3041. EBB to George Goodin Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 18, 122–128.
138. Avenue des Ch. Elysées–
May 15. & 14. [1852] [1]
My dearest George, since I wrote last to Arabel we have all been ill. La grippe (commonly called influenza) griped Robert to begin with, and then Wiedeman, & then Wilson .. and I think I have had a pinch from it myself, although the three dampish coldish days which occurred about a fortnight ago may be accountable chiefly in my case for having revived my cough in a vexatious way. I am getting better however in this magnificent weather, & the trace will soon be worn out. All the sooner that my darling Wiedeman has turned the corner of his attack, for I could’nt help being very sympathetical with him. For eight nights he had fever, with a state of oppression in the eyes & head which quenched all his spirits & unmade him from what he was– I never saw him half so unwell before. Now he has cough, but the fever has left him, & he has recovered his vivacity .. though pale & thin, much pulled down in every respect. We called in no medical advice– I had cried “wolf” so often, that Robert was incredulous about the necessity for rifles .. and I did not like to press it this time: certainly the treatment for common influenza is obvious enough. Still Wilson & I are perfectly persuaded in our own minds that the child has the hooping cough– So much the better perhaps, now that the worst is over. He has hooped again & again, and the previous symptoms, the state of the eyes especially, & the obstinate feverishness were not characteristic of an ordinary attack of cold. Mrs Ogilvy who has just come from Florence, thinks the cough just like hooping cough & keeps away her children. Whatever it is, however, he is a great deal better, & my anxiety is almost at an end. Soon we shall take him to Fontain[e]bleau for a day or two, which will set him up I hope before the time comes for London, as I should not like to take him into your thick atmosphere till he is strong. Then, the change will do good– So bright & rosy he was looking before this! The Ogilvys thought him greatly improved, & with much more appearance of strength than he had last year– Robert too has been extremely unwell & looking like a ghost—only not as unwell as Wiedeman nor in the same way, Wilson & I maintain obstinately. Never mind. Both of them are convalescent now. Peninni is in ecstasies this morning over a kitten which he is nursing tenderly in his pinafore– Desirée offers to buy it– He refuses with decision– She says she will give him “quâtre sous”– “Oh no, Detitée.” “cinq sous”– “No.” “Dix sous”– ‘No.’ “Cent sous”– “No, Detitée, puis pas.” (meaning “je ne puis pas”)– [2] He understands French perfectly, and English—besides his Italian—and the other day when Wilson was complaining of not knowing the french for a donkey, he suggested [‘]‘ane, Lili,” with all which, his own manner of talking is most hard to make out—it’s the most Babylonish of Baby-tongues–
I had a letter from Mrs Martin this morning. The Martins are to be here on saturday if the rooms they have written for are attainable, but the difficulty of getting a closet even in Paris just now is great. The Selwyns [3] will tell you how they fared & paid– I was glad & surprised when they walked in to us the evening before last, having come from Rome in five days– We both liked him extremely—he seems to have both kindness, & cleverness & cultivation,—& Berry is radiant with happiness in spite of the dust of the journey.
Do you know, George, I went to the Champ de Mars & saw the military fête .. the giving of eagles? I had been anxious to go in proportion to the difficulty of getting tickets– Seven pounds were given for a ticket, & many persons failed in procuring them at whatever cost– We had tickets for an atelier from which you had a bird’s eye view of the whole, but till the very morning there seemed no hope of admission to any tribune on the Champ de Mars .. when at half past eight oclock Lady Easthope [4] had the great kindness to send us two tickets .. one for Mrs Jameson & one for me. It was courageous to go without a gentleman, but we none of us had the least idea of what the crowd would be, and Robert, after consigning us to a citadine, [5] went off to the Ogilvys with his atelier tickets without the least anxiety. You may imagine the crush when I tell you that on an ordinary day one might drive from this house to the Champs de Mars in ten minutes, & that we actually accomplished it in about three hours & a half. Mrs Jameson was a little afraid, because she “had promised Robert,” as she said, to “bring me back safe,” and was’nt sure how she should be able to accomplish it. She was loud in reprobation of the “want of management,” and of the “absence of police” .. which I told her was the consequence of our excess of republican liberty– Not a policeman anywhere scarcely, the people having it quite their own way in the thoroughfares, & men in blouses assisting us to our places in the tribune. For my part I was’nt at all afraid, & was extremely amused—only the fête itself disappointed me, grand as it was, because our places were not good, & we could not see the president nor hear the music satisfactorily, nor feel the heart of the great show therefore. You see, the size of the Champ de Mars is enormous .. three miles round .. & I should not have been quite satisfied with anything less than the position of the ambassadresses– Lady Augusta Bruce & her sister [6] wandered into the tribune of Louis Napoleon & were turned out of course ignominiously. We have heard of all sorts of misfortunes on all sides. The heat was extreme, yet there was a breath of breeze now & then to keep one alive, & the canvass tops of the tribunes warded off the sun. Before the ceremony concluded Mrs Jameson & I crept away with the hope of escaping the crowd & getting a carriage– Not a carriage anywhere!– One man was bribed to go & fetch one, but he came back with a hopeless countenance .. “Not for a thousand francs could we get a carriage, if we went all over Paris for it.” Every likeness of a vehicle was engaged. I said in despair .. “my strength is at an end ..” (for we had been wandering about, observe) “it is absolutely impossible for me to walk much farther. If we can reach where the shops are, you shall go home & send me the first carriage you can.” Well—we got onto the Boulevard des Invalides .. but the whole place was crowded with tables & people eating & drinking .. & Mrs Jameson cried, “I never can go back to Browning & tell him I have left you among all these men .. we must sit here together & wait.” A byestander observed that in two or three hours perhaps we might attain to a carriage, so it was rather hopeful altogether. But what a thing it is, O Louis Napoleon, to have a glorious destiny! After ten minutes, up came a cocher [7] .. “he would desert two ladies for us, if we would be quick & get into his carriage & give him three francs for a ‘pour boire’ [8] —the said ladies had left him for a moment, & we might be off before they returned.” I am ashamed to confess our baseness– We concluded the compact & tumbled into the fiacre without a moment’s hesitation– What two ladies could be as distressed as we? Off we drove as if pursued by Conscience & a legion of devils– But at the bridge ([“]de la Concorde”) there was a dead stop. The bridge was densely packed with the people .. no possibility of passing. “Vous pouvez voir,” said our coachman looking over his shoulder—“c’est tout à fait impossible. Donnez moi deux francs de plus et je vous prendrai par Chaillot–” [9] So we agreed, & were driven the full circuit round by Chaillot, & arrived at home in a condition of thankfulness & exhaustion we shall not very soon forget, I think. But I am glad I went—though Robert wd not have let me if he had had an idea of the state of things. It is considered miraculous that we fared as well as we did– Mrs Streatfield for instance, paid fifteen francs for being conveyed to her tribune by a citadine, and had to walk the whole way home though extremely unwell & unfit for it.
And now do you look at one another & wonder whether I was bent (being of this adventurous metal just now) on getting a ticket for the President’s ball? No– Arabel—dont open your eyes with horror at me! No, George .. I eschewed the ball really,——balls are not at all in my way, except when I play at them with Peninni. You might observe that a review might seem as alien to me at the first glance—but it was’nt the review itself .. it was the significance of the whole event that I cared to study & try to understand– And, after all, I saw nothing but the mere military pomp .. which is nothing to me. I liked the crowded streets better.
But the fireworks .. oh, I would have certainly gone to see the fireworks, if it had not been for this horrible cold & cough, which would not even let me go up to Mrs Jameson’s rooms last night where she had assembled some friends for the purpose of seeing what was to be seen. Not much could be seen there—not much more than our own terrace commanded. I could see the rockets, & the tops of the fire-glories even from these windows, and I stood here watching them through the trees opposite. Most glorious. I could hardly help going to wake Peninni .. though Wilson declared it would frighten him. Desirée was highly poetical in her enthusiasm—“Cela me fait un effit [sic, for effet] extraordinaire! C’est comme un coup d’estomac quand je vois cela–” [10]
Paris is running over with population, & as tranquil as possible, .. Louis Napoleon’s government stronger than ever, & more likely to stand. We have a personal friend of his in this house, Admiral Askew, [11] with his wife & daughter .. an English sailor of the antiquest type .. who is a personal friend of Peninni’s as well as the president’s, & pays him the utmost attention .. sending up strawberries to the child when he is unwell & doing all sorts of kind things. Peninni is very popular in general. Admiral Askew calls him “my boy,” & gives him his cocked hat to set on his curls, & swears at him familiarly– “You are a little devil. Are’nt you a little devil?” “No. Peninni no debil. Peninni, Peninni–” Wilson says that he sits in an armchair opposite the admiral, & talks Italian to him in his way, most imperturbably–
Oh—dont let me forget to tell Arabel. We were out one evening .. & at the soirée (where by the bye we heard Telephsen [12] play Chopin’s music beautifully) was Madame Hahnemann, the wife of the original homœopathist– [13] She is a most peculiar looking woman. The face is striking .. and the hair, as white as snow, & perfectly uncovered, was dressed in a profusion of ringlets, with plaits behind. Altogether it looked like snowflakes .. drawing one’s attention very much, & forcing one to quite admire the peculiarity. She prescribed for Robert who was suffering from influenza at the time, & he took home with him globules & drops enough to complete his cure. She used to prescribe for her husband’s patients during his life– Well—the effect was just nothing—that is, just what Robert expected. By the way there was a Polish princess [14] who desired to be introduced to me that evening, & was full of M. Philarête Chasles’ lectures– She was intelligent & agreeable though, and talked well of literature. Of course I told her that there was scarcely a word of truth in what she had heard of me.
Now ask Arabel to skip this paragraph. Guess what enormity I have committed lately George! We went to see “La Dame aux Camelias”, which you moral English are crying out against, & which we immoral French dont admit of “les demoiselles” going to see at all. I wont allow (I being neither French nor English but a mere citizeness of the world) I wont allow that it is immoral, or is in the least calculated to do harm by its influences. The acting was most exquisite—too exquisite—it really almost killed me out of my propriety– I sobbed so, I could scarcely keep my place—& had a splitting headache for four & twenty hours afterwards, the remembrance of which will avail to keep me away for the future from any like exhibition. The play is by Alexandre Dumas, fils .. & the success has been something prodigious. When people want their hearts broken, they have only to go & see. There is a caricature representing the whole pit with umbrellas up to defend themselves from the tears raining out of the boxes. It is too affecting—it passes the bounds of Art—and that’s the very worst of it to my mind. Mrs Jameson wants me to go again with her—but I say .. “oh no thank you– Take Robert if you like—but for my part I have had too much of it already.” Why, the tears ran down Robert’s cheeks—he could not resist it himself.
We had Lady Elgin here last saturday evening again, and the evening did not go off half as well as usual,—because of a decided dyspathy between her & Mrs Jameson. Lady Elgin is a great spiritualist, with a leaning to Irvingism & a belief in every sort of incredible thing. While she talked of a communion of souls, Mrs Jameson began to talk of private madhouses .. in a way which made my blood run cold. I really thought there would have been an explosion between the two women—& that Robert & I, who agree so admirably with Lady Elgin, (for whom I have quite an affection) would never carry the evening to an end safely. Lady Elgin did say .. “Perhaps you think me mad.”
Now I must finish– Will you, whoever of you writes to dearest Storm, give him my best love?
I feel sure that Wiedeman has the hooping cough,—but the worst seems to be over. Uncle Hedley goes to England, I hear, on monday–
What a scramble of a letter, George. I cant correct the press—there’s no time for reading.
When is Arabel going to write to me? Did she get my sesquipedalia sort of letter. God bless you all– I love you dearly, dearly.
Thank you, dearest George, for letting me hear of you. Oh—I do trust we shall be more together this summer than we were last. Love to Trippy always.
And Robert’s love to you–
I am your ever attached Ba.
Address: Angleterre / George G. M. Barrett Esqre / 50. Wimpole Street / London.
Publication: B-GB, pp. 175–183.
Manuscript: Pierpont Morgan Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. “Four sous” … “Five sous” … “Ten sous” … “A hundred sous” … “I cannot.”
3. Jasper Henry Selwyn and his wife Eliza Berry (née Peyton).
4. Elizabeth Easthope (née Skyring, 1802–65), translator of travel writings, was the second wife of John Easthope (1784–1865), a politician and journalist who had purchased The Morning Chronicle in 1834. He was made a baronet in 1841 by Lord Melbourne. Lady Easthope is listed in the Brownings’ address book for this period (AB-3) at 85 Faubourg St. Honoré.
5. A one-horse public carriage for two.
6. Lady Charlotte Christian Locker (née Bruce, 1817–72), eldest daughter of the 7th Earl of Elgin and his second wife, the current Lady Elgin, had married in July 1850 Frederick Locker (1821–95), afterwards (1885) Locker-Lampson.
7. “Driver.”
8. i.e., “pourboire,” “gratuity.”
9. “You can see” … “it is completely impossible. Give me two francs more and I will take you via Chaillot.” At this time Chaillot was the name of a hill and village across the Seine from the Champs de Mars. The hill was later renamed Trocodéro and is now the site of the Palais de Chaillot.
10. “That gives me an extraordinary sensation. It is like a blow to the stomach when I see that.”
11. John Ayscough (1775–1863), vice-admiral, R.N. and one-time Commissioner of the Jamaica and Bermuda Dockyards, was married to Anna Maria (née Parr, d. 1864), by whom he had one son and two daughters. The latter were Anna Maria Booth (née Ayscough, d. 1876, aged 59), who had married in 1843, and Mary Harcourt Ayscough (d. 1895, aged 63). Presumably Mary Harcourt, being unmarried, is the daughter mentioned by EBB.
12. Thomas Dyke Acland Tellefsen (1823–74), Norwegian pianist and composer, studied under Chopin (1844–47) and was considered at this time the best interpreter of his master’s music. He took on some of Chopin’s pupils after the latter’s death in 1849, including Jane Stirling (see The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, 2nd ed., 2001, 25, 244). Tellefsen made his Paris début in 1851.
13. Melanie Hahnemann (1800–78), daughter of Comte Joseph d’Hervilly, had married in the mid-1830’s at Köthen, Germany, Samuel Christian Friedrich Hahnemann (1755–1843), German physician who founded a system of homeopathy, which he described in Organon der Rationellen Heilkunde (Dresden, 1810). The last eight years of his life he resided and practiced in Paris. Melanie Hahnemann practiced homeopathy alongside her husband and after his death.
14. Unidentified.
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