3482. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 20, 331–338.
Florence.
October 21– [1854] [1]
My ever dearest Arabel I seem to have paused too long in writing to you. Then there’s a letter to Henrietta to write. I must write to her in a few days. Will it find her out, I wonder, if addressed to the post office at Plymouth? I will run the chance at least, for I dread her setting me down as unkind & forgetting. If it had not been for the sad affair at Wimpole Street I should have given her one or two of these last letters, but I must write directly to you under the circumstances. Dearest Arabel, I cant help with all that you say, being down-hearted about the lameness. I can not help a misgiving as to the ability of the surgical treatment if such are really to be the results. I hear of people having their legs broken in two or three places &, at all ages, & being free of lameness afterwards– There was Miss Fitton for instance at Paris, & she must be older than Papa, who was laid up for months with a frightful fracture, & now is not in the slightest degree lame. Well. I vex you & perturb you & grumble you into sadness by all this. What is, is for the best, of course. Is poor Papa himself depressed by the fact, or quite aware of it? You are wrong in quoting Miss Blagden’s as a worse case. I am happy to tell you that she is getting rapidly better. She was going on ill– Both legs were a good deal out of their place—& walking twice across the floor was beginning to exhaust her. She said nothing could help her—it was plain the bones were softening & the general health failing .. she would go to England & see what the English surgeons could do for her, as a matter of duty, & then come back & settle herself in Florence for the remainder of her life. Well– I interfered, at that. I am far from having an English faith in English surgeons exclusively. And I entreated her (having reasoned with her in vain) for my love’s sake to call in Zanetti who is a celebrated man here, & has indeed a European reputation. She said, “I will do it for you .. but I know what the result will be.” Zanetti came, pronounced the whole evil to be a relaxation of the muscular system, brought to a crisis by the accident to the knee, & suggested remedies which in a week produced the most marvellous results, & restored the patient to hope & cheerfulness. In a fortnight she walked up stairs to see me .. when you may suppose how I scolded. The lower part of the back is rubbed with phosphorous, & there’s a cold bath with an infusion of iron .. something of that kind—and the curious thing is that the bones themselves are straining back into their places. Her English physician in Rome had completely mistaken everything– You never saw any person so wonderfully revived as she is. You see it wd have been bad for her if she had had to go to England in the winter when she is apt to suffer from the climate; & who knows whether the surgeons there wd have been successful after all? Their directions by letter, were failures. Anyhow it is better to be cured at once—is’nt it? I am sure you will be glad. She was cheerfully in despair .. if you know what that is. Convinced all was over, & resigned about it. Zanetti is very clever & an excellent man otherwise, lavishing his powers among the poor in a most disinterested way.
Dearest dear Arabel, that is what you have been doing by me, exactly. With admiration & gratitude Robert & I went through your excellent abstracts of our correspondence. I should have been still more grateful if it had not encroached on your letter to me– I missed you, dearest, out of your own letter. The divine young ladies inheritors of the manly virtue of the paternal & patriarchal dentist, [2] have never appeared—but most curiously Robert has seen their portraits—where do you think? On the table of an American dentist [3] who is not yet patriarchal but deserves to be so, & who is practising at Rome & who practised here en route to Rome. He is cousin to those Graces, & brought them in on the ground of “admiring readers” &c. Names being asked, the identity became evident. Dentist himself deserves recognition—I mean the unpatriarchal dentist. He examined Wilson’s teeth, & Penini’s,—gave Robert four sittings of more than an hour each .. (what he could have been doing I cant tell you—stopping teeth, I believe, & drawing one)—gave me a sitting of half an hour, in which he cleaned mine & he drew five!! Open your eyes, Arabel. I had a headache for a week from it after,—& resisted a little at first seeing that they were roots very far back in the head which caused me no sort of inconvenience .. but he represented so forcibly the advantage & glory .. in relation to the gums & things in general .. of having no imperfect tooth at all, that I was heroic as usual & submitted. Well, for all this work in the family, this angel of a dentist (who by the way is very extravagant in his charges—as high as in England) would take no other pay than about two pounds or guineas English. Indeed, he scrupled at receiving anything, from us! he “did’nt like it”!! That’s fame, Arabel,! To have all one’s teeth pulled out for nothing! I was considerably affected by it, I assure you, I for one.
You are to understand, besides, that the American dentists are sovereign in their art by the consent of all nations, & that this dentist is very able indeed. He did nothing to Penini’s teeth, I should tell you. He said, as everybody does, that the loss of the two under ones (in whose places two new ones are coming) was premature by at least a year & a half, but he did not think it of consequence—“the child might be forward generally.”
Which he is, you know—only infantine in the manner: not an old fashioned, precise child, I am happy to say. So you did’nt believe in Wimpole Street that he wrote his letter!! He can do anything he pleases, that child! He is near upon finishing his second copy-book, & when it is done we are going to send them both to Paris; & I shall tell Sarianna to let you have them to keep for us when she & ‘nonno’ have examined them. I hold they are curiosities. The first book contains the names of all his friends—it’s his first writing, & between lines, of course. The second book is written throughout on a single line, & consists of compositions on all sorts of subjects by Penini .. stories & essays, every word his own. This book lies on our table & everybody takes it up & wonders over it. Really it is funny, what with it’s babyism & it’s intelligence. There’s an article upon “Angels”—and another on “Hearts” .. and another on the “Coliseum,” & another on “Rabbits”– The table of contents would amuse you in itself. I help in nothing except the spelling—(the very punctuation he does himself) only I confess to interfering the other day & refusing the licence with regard to an expression about the rabbits. “There was a man rabbit & a lady—and this lady had six little ones in her stomat.” “Oh”—said I—“you had better not write that.” “What—you shocked, dear Mama?” By the way he has really six little rabbits. He came running, in an ecstasy—“I am in such pleasure.” He expected eggs, & is of opinion that they did come out of the white rabbit’s ears, & that this remarkable “lady” immediately ate up the shells, which accounts for their disappearance. Penini is profound in his physiology. But it’s inconvenient sometimes that he should have a rage just now for going round among all the proprietors of dogs, horses, & other living creatures, & enquiring, “Is it a man or a woman?” and “why does’nt it mate some little ones”? Wilson is in a permanent state of agony.
What a horrible time of anxiety this is for so many. I feel deeply for poor dearest aunt Jane—but the first lists, which of course we searched with anxiety, will relieve her mind. There seems to be a delay about Sebastapol [sic]. Robert has been in a frenzy of excitement about it. For my part, I think the union between the French & English, & the chivalrous justice done by each to each, a sublime thing. May God defend the right, we may all say. Tell me what John Hedley’s regiment [4] is. Dr Harding has a son in the 2d Division, under Pennefeather. [5] By the way, while doing justice to the liberality of American dentists, I should’nt forget English physicians .. and Dr Harding with the utmost delicacy & generosity has forced his advice upon us all the summer for Penini without payment of any kind. Robert made a fuss about these visits, when he replied .. “Surely you will let me go & see Mrs Browning”. He has set Penini quite up again from the evils of Rome. He told me the other day that he had considered the child “far from well,” on his arrival here, though he made light of it for my sake:—in fact, the thinness & paleness were obvious enough for uneasiness– Rome had weakened the digestion &c, & promoted a tendency to worms .. which is constitutional perhaps in Penini .. though never before developped. Dr Harding made him take a desertspoonful of camomile tea twice a day, & gave him one or two powders which freed him from the evil at once. I did’nt tell you this at the time. Now, he is quite well & strong—continuing the camomile tea though, because the effect cannot be otherwise than salutary. I never knew him to have so much appetite, and, for rosy cheeks, I will show him against a pippin at any time, in your English apple-shows. Mrs Irving (the Irvings are here just now) is delighted with him, & calls him a true “poet’s child.” He went to see her & won her heart by telling her what seems to have been the whole history of his life—all about “poor Joe”—and “poor Flush,” & how he loved him. Penini is’nt in the least shy, & is so social & fond of paying visits, that I get a little alarmed sometimes at this appetite for dissipation. He knows everybody’s name in Florence—and a curious way he has, (for a child) about names. I remember when I was shy at calling people by their names. He has christian & surname for everyone, & startles you by evoking your visitors as ‘Hatty Hosmer’ ‘James Irving’ &c &c .. or “the Tottles” .. (Cottrells) more simply. Talking of the Irvings, I sent her a copy of our “Two Poems” (we have a few copies out—and how perfectly, Arabel, you have seen to the printing!) and the next morning but one, Mr Irving came from her with five scudi (about a guinea) for the charity. [6] So you are to count on that sum when we can get it to you. Make some sort of acknowledgement. Our other readers have not shown the same degree of sensibility .. dropping tears of silver—not even such as “fell down Pluto’s cheek”, [7] in penny pieces. Let me be grateful too about the general poems. I have seen & examined the new edition, & nothing can be more accurate than the printing—only one misprint that I can find! You have done it as if you had all your life never done anything else– Oh, I mean to use you from henceforth, Arabel, in future editions, till your hardworked kindness shall cry out at last .. “Hold, enough.” [8]
I wish you would remember Penini, Arabel, when you are looking over books for your schools, & put the titles down of anything that strikes you as good & bright, & not too dogmatic. You know I am a little heterodox in certain ways. I dont like some things which are generally approved. For instance, though, as you are well aware, I am quite fond of many of Watts’ hymns sung in the chapels, yet most of the Infant Hymns (though he wrote them & you gave the book to Penini) I have quite a horror of .. they are so full of flames & eternal damnations. [9] As a child I suffered intensely myself from this way of addressing children, and as a christian I do hold it to be an erroneous mode of appeal altogether. Let us be afraid of sin, instead of the consequences of sin,—& love Christ instead of fearing hell fire. Then I am Swedenborgian in some things, & I dont believe in physical torments or in arbitrary punishment in the sense usually taught. Union with the Lord is happiness & holiness & light—disunion from Him is the contrary to these as a matter of course:—& the spiritual world only spiritualizes our state here. Penini said the other day—“I’m sure I [10] love gentle Jesus. I want to be good & to go to gentle Jesus. I dont like evil spirits, not a bit. They’re all naughty– I hate dark places–” “Then” said he, turning his head on one side & smiling to think of it .. “I’m sure there must be loads of children in heaven with gentle Jesus. It must be just like a festa.” He has been reading lately the “Peep of Day” [11] .. a very nice little book,—with certain drawbacks– There’s too much that tends to Arianism, or even Unitarianism in the separation of the persons of the Trinity—and there’s a whole chapter at the end about the general judgement & the burning up of the hills & mountains, which wd frighten Penini out of his wits, & which he shant read certainly. But he has enjoyed very much the account of Christ’s life, & would read the story of the ‘loaves & fishes’ twice over. Turning the water into wine did’nt strike him so much, because he said very coolly he had seen that done in Rome. (By a conjuror, at Mrs Sartoris’s.) I tried to persuade him that that was only in cheat, but I might as well have talked to the wall. He saw the water turn red with his own eyes—he “saw it!!” So there was nothing for it but to change the subject. Happily he requires no miracles to prove to him that Jesus is God. And now quite of his own accord, in consequence of an enlarged theological knowledge from this reading, he has begun to pray for “the Holy Spirit to make him good.” There’s a chapter on the Lord’s prayer, at the close of which it is pronounced “hard for children to understand.” [12] “Lat’s velly tlue!” said Penini—“it is velly hard for childlen to usterstand.” What he likes much is to answer the questions affixed to the chapters. [13] He remembers everything—scarcely ever makes a mistake. He reads, too, with great animation & expression—not like a dull, droning child. Robert has begun to teach him the piano—think of that! and you cant fancy how nicely those darling baby fingers run down the “stales” (scales) with both hands. It[’]s quite a curiosity to see him. He is taught at his own particular prayer, & is’nt satisfied with one lesson a day I assure you. Robert expects a great deal from his music. With all this, we dont overwork him. I seldom keep him more than half an hour– Then, there’s the music which he considers play & priveledge together. Yes indeed—the best of him is that he’s full of love. He makes regular love to me– “How I love you! Your face is like a light, with those curls hanging! I sint I must some day give you somesing pretty—a bloach .. or a beau—tiful dless!.” Then he calls me his “sweetest little mama”, his “darling little Ba.” In the morning, before his eyes are open, he will stretch out his hands, Wilson says, .. “Where’s my darling Lily?” The child’s made of love.
Arabel, you didnt mention dearest Trippy. Tell me of her & give her kisses & love from me by wheelbarrows. I want another letter from you dreadfully– Oh– I do trust you will give me good news of my poor, beloved Papa– One reason why I did’nt write before was that I was horribly afraid he had sent back my letter. I heard of a letter, sent to Cutugliano [sic, for Cutigliano] .. which I had to wait for: but it turns out to be a letter from Mrs Ogilvy who is settled near London, at Peckham Rye, much against her inclination, for a whole year. I am happy now I wrote to Papa—and yet I dare say he did not read what I wrote.
I hear extraordinary things about the spirits constantly, but the accounts are too long to send you. Mr Jerves’s mother [14] & other members of his family, see them now– There are visible & tangible, hands & arms, & figures. The whole movement is making still stronger & deeper way in America. The other day I held in my hand & read with my eyes a writing made by the spirits themselves, without the mediation of any mortal fingers– It was written in pencil, & perfectly legible, & produced in the presence of thirteen witnesses in Mr Jerves’s family. He comes here nearly every week to read fresh letters.
I fear Routledge will not come to terms. Never mind. The Americans are really shabby & dishonest. Tell me of dear Minny? Have you heard of Maddox lately? Give dear Minny my best love. What of Mrs Orme? What of Mr Hunter? Tell me of everybody. I do hope dearest Henrietta will get to London this winter for both your sake & hers—yet she must come also next summer for mine. Mrs Sartoris has been spending another week here, singing exquisitely & talking brilliantly– Penini told a history, beginning with, “When my mama was mallied (married) I dined wiz her .. &c.” Everybody laughed, & May Sartoris cried out “Now, Penini, that must be a story!” Poor Peni!
Tenderest love among you all. Darling Arabel, take care of yourself for me! Love me enough for that—& do write–
Your own, own Ba.
I have heard from Miss Mitford. Really better. tho’ not sanguine of herself.
Address: Angleterre viâ France. / Miss Barrett / 50. Wimpole Street / London.
Publication: EBB-AB, II, 100–107.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. Eleazar Parmly (1797–1874), pioneering New York dentist whose brothers, son, and nephews were or would become prominent in the profession. He and his wife Anna (née Smith, 1802–57), adopted daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John M. Ehrick of Charleston, South Carolina, were travelling in Europe with their three unmarried daughters: Mary Montagu (afterwards Ward, 1831–1913), Julia Ann (afterwards Billings, 1835–1914), and Louisa Cotton (1845–69).
3. Levi Spear Burridge; see letter 3396, note 2.
5. John Lysaght Pennefather (1800–72). “In 1854 he was given command of the 1st brigade of the 2nd (Sir De Lacy Evans’s) division in the army sent to the Crimea, and on 20 June he was made major-general”; he directed his brigade “with great credit at the battle of the Alma” (ODNB). Francis Pym Harding (1820–75) had previously served under Pennefather in the 22nd Regiment and was at this time his aide-de-camp.
6. A copy of Two Poems inscribed by EBB to James Irving is at Yale; see Reconstruction, C592. The copy presented to Mrs. Irving has not been located.
7. Cf. Milton, Il Penseroso (1673), 105–107.
8. Macbeth, V, 8, 34.
9. Cf. Isaac Watts, “Heaven and Hell,” lines 5–8, in Divine Songs Attempted in Easy Language for the Use of Children (1715):
There is a dreadful Hell,
And everlasting Pains;
There Sinners must with Devils dwell
In Darkness, Fire, and Chains.
10. Underscored twice.
11. The Peep of Day (1836), by Favell Lee Mortimer (née Bevan, 1802–78), was her first and most popular work. It “passed through numerous English editions and was published by the Religious Tract Society in thirty-seven different dialects and languages” (ODNB). As indicated in letter 3485, EBB borrowed the book from Mary Read.
12. The Peep of Day (1873), p. 85.
13. For instance, at the end of the lesson entitled “The Lord’s Prayer,” one of the questions asked is “What are ‘trespasses’?” The answer is given immediately afterwards: “Trespasses are sins” (The Peep of Day, p. 85).
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