2993. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 17, 231–236.
138. Avenue des Ch. Elysées–
Jany 13– [1852] [1]
Ever beloved Arabel, I dont hear from you, & it would relieve me to hear. I cant imagine why you dont write. Not a word about Jamaica ever so long, & I see in Galignani that the cholera is there– [2] Why dont you mention Storm? Perhaps everything goes black in my eyes just now, for something which I have heard lately & which has given me grievous pain. Two or three days ago, Miss Watkyns Wynn told Robert of a rumour that Philaret Chasles [3] (one of the paid government professors) was lecturing or about to lecture on the English poets at the Collége de France, & among others, on Tennyson, Browning, & EBB, “the veil of whose private life has been lately raised by Miss Mitford.”!! [4] This made me very anxious & uncomfortable: you may well suppose it. Robert went down to the Collége de France yesterday, & heard a lecture, but only an opening lecture—& it wont be continued till next tuesday. The place was thronged—well, but that’s nothing. Yesterday evening, just as I had gone to bed, in came a writer of the Revue des deux mondes– He was engaged on a paper upon my poetry, & the people belonging to the review had sent him an Athenæum of the 4th of January which contained the full passage from Miss Mitford’s book, & desiring him to make use of the biographical details. He, however, could not help feeling (think of a stranger, a frenchman .. a man .. feeling what a woman & my English friend did not!!) that the repetition of certain details might be “very painful to Mrs Browning,” .. he came therefore to consult Robert about it– I shall be grateful to that man while I live, for his sympathy & sensibility. [5]
Robert just intimated to me the sort of references which she has made, & altogether I am quite upset & unhappy– Good Heavens—how obtuse of feeling, how unconscious of the existence of such a thing as delicacy, some people are. How absolutely ignorant of your heart & habits, some friends are. “If it had been mine enemy who had done it ..”! But that she in pure kindness of intention, should run a knife up to the hilt in me, as a proof of friendship, .. and that I should not be able to say in return, even so much as “you are a cruel woman for this.”
O Arabel—you who know me! You who know that not even in my poetry where I have written what was deepest in me, could I utter one word of that subject—one direct reference, .. think of what I must be feeling to have it all said quietly like any other “compliment” .. good Heavens!—in the face of the whole world .. to be extracted here, & translated there, & talked & gossipped about here & there indiscriminately– Also, the pain to you all—dear things! The vexation to Papa .. who I dare say wishes me & my books to be all dead & buried out of his sight & hearing! Forgive me, you– I bring you nothing but vexation in one shape or another. Even the Athenæum people, you see, had not the least instinct of delicate apprehension about it—though Mr Chorley, I acquit of the thing– I am sure he is incapable of such an act– He never could have done it—I am sure. [6]
We have read nothing .. observe .. yet– What vexes me so that I could “rend my garments” like the orientalists, [7] is, that if it ever had crossed my mind in the shape of an imagination, I might have written in time to her, & entreated her to suppress all personality as far as I was concerned. But it never crossed my mind once– I understood that the book chiefly consisted of a republication of certain criticisms of her’s which appeared in the Lady’s companion when Mr Chorley was it’s editor [8] .. one of which I knew related to my poetry, & another to Robert’s. [9] It never crossed my mind that there could be a personality in either, & I was so much at ease about the papers altogether that I did not think it worth while to examine the old [‘]‘Lady’s companions” when I was in England, concluding that I should read them in the book– The title of the book, she told me, did not in the least express the character of it, & was in fact a mere fancy of the publisher’s who wanted to attract the public. I imagined, from what she said, that the book consisted of a mere series of literary papers, principally re-printed too–
I hear that among other ridiculous things, there’s a story about my having bound up a Plato like a novel, not to be taken for a “Blue”– [10] What a touching trait of modesty! & how like me, to be sure!!– Did you ever hear of it before, Arabel?
But let what is simply ridiculous pass—though I cant even smile at such things. She has pulled out the very heart from me, to hold it up to the world, with its roots still bleeding!—— For you know, Arabel, that I never can forget——never while the night follows the morning– Anything else she might have told. I wd rather for instance (to show to you how I feel) rather, a hundred times, that she had written pitiful scandals about my marriage–
Yet all was done “kindly”– What am I to say? What, do?
Do you write to me, Arabel, meanwhile, .. for I am fancying all sorts of things about you all. There seems a weight in the air–
My cough is much better. The weather is very warm,—too warm almost,—& in time, I dare say, it will give me back my voice. We have had a week’s warm weather—but I am not very strong—only not ill, I may solemnly assure you– I have written this letter at full speed, for relief of heart as much as anything else– Poor darling Robert is so vexed for me! You know how he is my other heart–
So this is not a very amusing letter. God bless you my own beloved sister– God love & bless you, & keep you as much as may be, from the vexations which come from this as well as from other quarters– Do write to me, dearest!–
Your tenderly attached & grateful Ba
Wiedeman is quite well—& cutting two double teeth. Tom Butler brought his child here yesterday. The boy is very like his mother,—but I did’nt say that– The Hedleys we have not seen for ten days.
Darling Arabel, thank you, thank you! your dear welcome letter comes in like a ray of sunshine. I am relieved about Storm,—for one blackness had wrapt me in close from every other brightness, until you come as usual, my comforter, & break it to let through a little light– Half sorry I am in return to send you such a sad letter—but I cant help it .. I must speak to you, my own friend & sister!–
The falsifications of the Times are not to be accepted, I for[e]warned you long ago, as verities. No revolution has been accomplished with more moderation, I still believe, than the late French one—and history, from the height of even fifty years, will take a different view of things from what is taken in England through the “insular fog” which is characteristic of the foreign-policy-views of that country. [11] “Without trial”—no. Of course in a transition-period of this kind, the ordinary tribunals are not employed in the examination of political offences—neither are, nor ever were– But every offence has come before tribunals, be sure. Infinitely more rigour was used by Cavaignac, at the time of the June riots, [12] than ever has been used by Louis Napoleon. I persist in respecting the will of the people in France as elsewhere. I am not for “intelligent minorities” in France or elsewhere. And I have hope for the future, in spite of the shameful misrepresentations of agonized parties, & narrow English newspaper-writers, in France as elsewhere.
Remember—it is on the ground of democracy, that I set my foot, & on no other ground. Louis Napoleon may show himself worthy of all our curses in three months more– I dont enter into sureties for Louis Napoleon—he may be worthy presently of our curses. But up to this moment, in the name of justice, no. In pure justice, I cry no. He has not done ill up to this moment– And France does not think so.
Every revolution brings with it certain stringent necessities. It did, under Lamartine—it did under Cavaignac– Cavaignac’s name is hated by the people of Paris, because he was considered universally, unnecessarily severe. An honest upright man, nevertheless, he is, & a true republican.
Say how you are! As to the cold, the Te Deum day, [13] there was a frosty fog, the worst of all things .. also the day after—but we have had no fog since, & the cold has quite gone away, as I told you. It is so warm that Wilson “would not willingly have a fire in her room” she was saying this morning. We have had only a pretence of one indeed for some days, & keep all the doors open. My voice will come back in time, but, dearest Arabel, you know how it is that a few days of severe weather, off & on, are enough to undo me– My chest is made of paper, I believe– The comfort is, that a little warm weather is enough to make me well again, .. & I dare say the spring will set in early here. Wilson wants me to go out very much, but really I am afraid, with my voice in this state, to run any risks. My first letter to Mrs Martin was lost .. & I, hearing indirectly that she was complaining at Pau of not hearing from me, wrote a second letter, which surely she must have received by this time. The first letter was very long, & full of politics .. written by return of post after receiving hers. Oh– I dont think the Hedleys are very “gay”—they were only “beginning to be rather so.” Perhaps it may be my fancy about the gravity—it was Ibbit’s & Robin’s that struck me. Now, do write soon again–
Your own Ba–
Dearest George! How like his generosity! He could not have pleased me better than by doing just so. As to Papa & the books, why it is inconceivable. [14]
Robert’s best love—& mine, to all of you—dear Trippy & all, be it understood–
Address: Angleterre / Miss Barrett / 50. Wimpole Street / London.
Publication: EBB-AB, I, 448–452.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. The supplement to the 27 December 1851 issue of Galignani’s Messenger reported that “cholera … was still committing its awful ravages in various parts of the island. It prevails principally in the parish of St. James, on the bank of the Great River, Westmoreland and Saint Elizabeth, the town of Montego Bay, and Hanover. The deaths average two a day in Montego Bay.” Charles John resided at Retreat Pen in St. Ann’s Parish, well to the east of St. James’s Parish, the nearest point of outbreak.
3. Victor Euphémien Philarète Chasles (1798–1873), French critic and writer, was, since 1851, professor of comparative literature at the Collège de France. He had written several books on comparative literature, including Études sur la littérature et les mœurs de l’Angleterre au XIXe siècle (Paris, 1852), which contains a section on RB’s Paracelsus (pp. 425–435). Charlotte Williams-Wynn attended the first of Chasles’s lectures and described it as “superficial and flippant to a painful degree” (Memorials of Charlotte Williams-Wynn, ed. [Harriot Hester Lindesay], 1877, p. 156).
4. Mary Russell Mitford’s Recollections of a Literary Life, or Books, Places, and People (1852) includes a chapter entitled “Married Poets: Elizabeth Barrett Browning—Robert Browning” (I, 266–291). A review of the book appeared in The Athenæum of 3 January 1852, with an extract from the section on EBB. It contained the entirety of Miss Mitford’s full, but inaccurate, account of the death by drowning of EBB’s brother Edward (“Bro”) and his companions in the summer of 1840. One of the passages quoted was particularly grim: “In a few minutes after their embarkation, and in sight of their very windows, just as they were crossing the bar, the boat went down and all who were in her perished. Even the bodies were never found. I was told by a party who were travelling that year in Devonshire and Cornwall, that it was most affecting to see on the corner houses of every village street, on every church-door and almost on every cliff for miles and miles along the coast handbills, offering large rewards for linen cast ashore marked with the initials of the beloved dead. … This tragedy nearly killed Elizabeth Barrett” (no. 1262, p. 10). For more reliable summaries of the details of Bro’s death, see our volume 1, p. 289, and volume 4, p. 366.
5. Joseph Milsand’s review of EBB’s Poems (1850) and Casa Guidi Windows appeared in the Revue des Deux Mondes on 15 January 1852 (pp. 348–361); for the complete text of this review, see pp. 358–363. The manuscript of the review clearly shows that Milsand had included direct references to Bro’s death (ms at ABL/JMA). However, doubtless owing to the consultation with RB, they did not appear in print. Two pages of Milsand’s manuscript are reproduced facing p. 241.
6. Recollections of a Literary Life was dedicated to Chorley. The reviewer has been identified as Daniel Owen Maddyn in the marked file copy of The Athenæum now at City University (London).
7. Cf. Ezra 9:3.
9. Miss Mitford published a series of critical essays, “Readings of Poetry, Old and New,” in The Ladies’ Companion from 6 July 1850 to 31 May 1851. However, none of the articles “related” to either EBB’s or RB’s poetry.
10. In Recollections of a Literary Life, Miss Mitford reported that following the death of EBB’s brother Edward, the poetess “clung to literature and to Greek; in all probability she would have died without that wholesome diversion to her thoughts. Her medical attendant did not always understand this. To prevent the remonstrances of her friendly physician, Dr. Barry, she caused a small edition of Plato to be so bound as to resemble a novel. He did not know, skilful and kind though he were, that to her such books were not an arduous and painful study, but a consolation and a delight” (I, 270–271). This passage also appeared in The Athenæum of 3 January 1852 (p. 10).
11. EBB probably has in mind the passage from Cousin she refers to in letter 2997 (see note 4).
13. On 1 January 1852, a thanksgiving service for Louis Napoleon’s election was held at Notre Dame. “A solemn ‘Te Deum d’actions de grace’ was performed at the same hour in every cathedral church of France. … The coup d’œil presented on entering the Cathedral of Notre Dame was somewhat deteriorated by the effect of a dense fog, which, throwing a veil of mist over all that passed outside, penetrated to the innermost recesses of the building, and mocked the dazzling brilliancy of nearly a thousand waxlights, suspended in clusters from the roof” (The Times, 3 January 1852, p. 5.)
14. We are unable to elucidate these remarks.
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