3491. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 21, 16–21.
Florence.
Novr 26. [1854] [1]
My dearest, dearest Arabel, I cant rest upon anything till I have answered your letter. It has made me very sad of course, and I shall wait with the utmost anxiety the next accounts you give me. I need not beseech you to write constantly– Your own goodness will make you write, even though your fatigues in every way must be great—but three lines, three words!– I feel grieved that I did not write to dearest Trippy—why did I put it off? Always it seems to me that writing to you must cover all, & that a message means everything. Oh—if she is able to hear & care, tell her how I have loved her always, & never, never forgotten her, my dear, dear Trippy—tell her how painfully anxious I am about this illness. I will try to hope as you bid me, for the very best—& she may, as you say, rally, as she has done on former occasions, particularly as the desease <has> ceased to be active, & as she is able to take nourishment. Still .. oh, I am very uneasy– It is only reasonable to be uneasy, under the circumstances.
Penini says in the sweetest way—“I am velly solly. She is one of my ladies—one of my gleat fliends. She gave me my tup & spoon, & I remember the parrot. But, dear mama,” (turning to me) “dont you mate yourself uneasy! smile again, and dont have the sorrowful things– Come & talk to me about my doll– Do you usterstand about babies?” Penini has not been quite well,—&, if he has had the meazles, Wilson & I shall not be surprised to be told so– There was a slight rash for some three days .. like a nettle-rash .. without headache or fever– On the fourth day one eye became inflamed & watered a good deal. The child was so unaffected otherwise, we had no advice for him, & satisfied ourselves with keeping him in his room & attending to his diet– On the fourth day we gave him medecine, grey powder, & senna, & now he is perfectly well, though a little paler & thinner for the few days adversity– Can it be meazles, I wonder– Ask dear Minny her opinion. The complaint is curiously slight in Italy, & we have heard of received cases here affecting the patient much the same. Still, I cant trust to it much. He was good, & bore his little deprivations so beautifully, that Robert promised him a present—and he chose a doll!! Rather a change upon the military occupations in which he usually delights, and really, on the whole, a more sensible amusement. It is one of the new-fashioned infantine dolls, and rolls about it’s head & arms & legs in the most lifelike way, & squeaks if you touch its stomach. Such a piece of work there is about the frocks & chemises—and everything is to be made to “button,” because Penini cant tie a string—he has’nt arrived at that degree of accomplishment. He says he can make a “knot”—but it scarcely answers, when you come to want to untie it, as you do sometimes.
Isa Blagden was here today when your letter came—(she is all but well—it is the most wonderful cure of an apparently hopeless malady that ever came under my notice.) I tore open the letter just to see how things were going—read that dear Trippy had been ill & was out of all danger .. read about Papa .. & then shut up everything, supposing that I knew the worst & best, & should enjoy the rest afterwards– Little did I fancy what was on the last two pages– Ah—here is the terrible thing in being away– Here it is!
As to the spirits, do you really (knowing me, Arabel)
<…> [2]
have had the visible manifestations– The mythical hand was distinctly seen, & felt, & shook hands with them all .. the feeling being of something cold & soft .. elastic—a perfect hand. As to your jest about “amputations”, Arabel, .. now, do be just, & consider! What was the hand which wrote at Balthazar’s feast? [3] These manifestations throw a curious light upon that. The hand was seen .. the fingers of a hand .. is it not the very expression? And the reason for no more than a hand being seen, is probably identical, then & now. To enable us to see, something of our
<…>
As to Sebastopol there will be reinforcements & an end of it all presently. It’s horrible in the meanwhile—but war must be horrible—as sin is, & the consequences of sin. If we could surround the city so as to prevent the pouring in of the reinforcing enemy on the open side, it would not be so like emptying a fountain with a bucket. But there are heroic virtues—fortitude, self-abnegation in active exercise—& God defends the right after all. We held off as long as we could in this war—we are not bound to sit still & be tomahawked, even by the Christian law I think.
What you say of Surtees being sent to the Mediterranean moves me much– [4] Something in the Times about the militia had frightened me more than I dared say to any of you [5] —and I do hope & trust he may be left in England quietly. Is dearest Henrietta very anxious about it? Do you know I heard of her (tell her from me) in the ‘Illustrated News’ the other day! [6] & how she helped Lady Morley [7] to give away the colours– There was the “stand” in black & white, but Robert, who brought me the news from the reading-room, could not find Henrietta’s portrait—only Mrs Surtees Cook’s name. I have no heart to make fun of it all, as I could yesterday. Was Altham there, I wonder?
Ah—if she has courage to do that, Arabel, she may as well go to Sebastopol. It might answer—or it might not. For my part, I never could do it, simply because it would be risking too much. If she gained her point we should all say ‘well done’ & praise her for bravery. If she did’nt, we should say “ill done” & blame her for imprudence. But there may be such a thing as a magnificent imprudence .. only the risk of this seems to me excessive. If I failed I should never recover it, I think. Still, I would not advise her against the act, supposing she were thoroughly set upon it. I confine myself to being glad rather of not being in London at the time. I should feel the vibrations more, if I were. [8]
Dearest Arabel, a card surprised me the other morning. Mr & Mrs John Stratten’s. [9] In they came, with Miss Hope. Robert returned the visit, & did’nt find them at home, so no more was seen of them, as they were in Florence for only six days. Do you know her? She is deaf, & not pretty, but young & gentle-looking. He is inferior in picturesqueness of appearance & manner to his father– I never saw him before. They seemed to be struck & delighted with everything, & I wished that we could have been more useful to them than the opportunity admitted of our being.
If you want a book, try to get George Sand’s “Maîtres Sonneurs”. [10] You know I dont often ask you to read her books, but I should like you to read this for the excessive beauty & purity of it. Robert thinks it rather heavy—it has no brilliant situations: it is a pastoral romance,—all about the country & country people .. and for my part & in its particular line, I hold it to be absolutely perfect. In a woman, after such a life, to be morally capable of writing such a book, proves how exceptional she is.
Dear Mr Kenyon wrote a pretty kind little note to Penini, & praised his letter in an affectionate way which touched me to the quick. So did you, my darling Arabel, write him a letter—but you are you, & we are yours! I did’nt think Mr Kenyon could have put himself so out of the way to be kind to a little child. He said today, after he had read your two notes, with great satisfaction—“I sint evellybody lites my letters.” Poor little Pen. He has rather a sublime idea of his own qualifications & merits, though you are very amiable people, all of you, he admits willingly.
He has been hankering after this doll for some time, having resisted the inclination at first, on the ground of an idea he had, that it was infra dig: for a “general” to have a doll. At last the desire overcame the sense of dignity, & nothing can be more enchanting than the doll is, now she has come. There, he has put her to bed by the side of him after various tender kisses, & Lily is to make her a new frock tomorrow morning.
Oh– Arabel—how very, very kind you are about the books for Penini! Dearest, you are too good, too kind, and if it were possible I would have out those books of yours at any rate– People must be coming into Italy at this time of year. Ask Mr Kenyon if he knows of anyone coming. I am so sorry—because Chapman & Hall had a parcel to send to us, which is on its way, I fear, with the rest of Frank & Rosamond [11] we were forced to have out, as Penini cant be kept without books. He has read a part of ‘Frank’—(the part which has arrived) he reads it with great facility & likes it better than I do. I cant tell you, Arabel, how disappointed I am with ‘Frank’—my memories praised it too much. It’s cold & low—just “sensible,” in the commonest meaning of that word. I am surprised to find how much the public mind has risen, as measured by the present character of children’s books, since the days of ‘Frank’. Mrs Barbauld, too, does not please me– We have passed these things. When Penini was unwell the other day I sent to ask Mrs Powers, who has an immense family, to lend us some books suited to him—& she sent us some very nice little books .. nothing of a very high order, but pretty, & simple .. some printed by the Religious Tract Society [12] .. (I rather hoped, Arabel, she would have sent me a little Swedenborgianism, but she did’nt)—& Penini has been reading them ever since. I will remember your recommendations. What was Miss Jewsbury’s book? [13] The one you have—the one you sent me? You said it was a child’s book. A child of what age?. Do you remember the book Mrs McIntosh [14] gave him about animals. That’s a great resource to him as a book of reference, though rather difficult in length of words both for reading & understanding. Where are the McIntoshes? In London? Tell me something of the Jagos. Really I should like to know of them.
Dearest Arabel, you never said a word to me about Routledge, [15] & therefore you are perfectly mistaken in your notion of my having forgotten, or omitted to notice. Now, I am rather afraid—Robert is, at least, .. lest anything should be even talked of which Chapman might consider unhandsome on our parts. Certainly we could do nothing without his adhesion—and moreover all that ever I contemplated was republishing a few of the old ballads, together with a few new ones which I have by me– [16] I should be afraid that the general re-publication might injure the sale at Chapman’s. At any rate, &, as there seems to be difficulty, ask George to tell Routledge that we will conclude nothing till we go to England next spring. Time enough then to hear what can be said on both sides. Thank dear George, with my tender love, for what he has done & said already–
Dearest, I have been writing these sheets against the grain a good deal, but I could’nt be so unkind as to send you nothing but groans, as my inclination was. Take care of your precious self, I beseech you—take rest when you can—ah, my advice is too slow in going! If you are well now, for which I do thank God, all this watching is a thing you are not fit for .. and yet of course you must do what you do, & I would not have it otherwise– Only how I yearn to be with you & take turns with you! May God bless you in your work & give us all joy after it. Penini prayed for dearest Trippy last night– May He who hears prayer answer all ours’!
For my beloved Papa, it is a relief to know that he has yielded on the point of taking carriage exercise—but I am not clear in my mind about his leg’s having been well treated. Do you trust absolutely that surgeon, [17] Arabel? The swelling, as well as the rest, makes it doubtful to me.
Have you heard of Stormie very lately? Isa Blagden & Mr Norton have taken apartments in Mr Tennyson’s house .. the magnificent Villa Torrigiani [18] —so almost all our friends will be together. Mr Norton came here the other morning & staid five hours! Still, .... I really like him more & more. He is very affectionate & very clever, with a great deal of high sentiment about him too. All these young men adore Robert! I dont know how he bewitches them.
Darling Arabel, this letter goes to you by return of post, but my love & anxious prayers have gone faster still.
Your own, own Ba–
Penini’s eye was only an affair of four & twenty <hours>. He is perfectly himself now, with a complexion like painted china.
Address: Angleterre viâ France. / Miss Barrett / 50. Wimpole Street / London.
Publication: EBB-AB, II, 107–112.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. Two thirds of a page has been excised, affecting text here and below.
3. EBB refers to Belshazzar, King of the Chaldeans, at whose feast Daniel interpreted the mysterious writing on the wall; see Daniel 5.
4. The lead editorial in The Times of 15 November 1854 reported that several regiments stationed in the Mediterranean were being reassigned to the Crimea. Referring to their replacements, the editorial continued: “There will be no difficulty, we understand, in obtaining the services of any amount of any militia that may be required to do garrison duty in the fortresses thus left ungarrisoned” (p. 6).
7. Harriet Sophia Parker (née Parker, formerly Coryton, 1809–97), Countess of Morley, a daughter of Montagu Edmund Parker and his wife Harriet (née Neucombe). She married in 1842, Edmund Parker, 2nd Earl of Morley.
8. Henrietta was considering an attempt to reconcile with their father. EBB refers to this subject again at the end of letter 3502. The attempt occurs during Henrietta’s visit to London in January; see letters 3518 and 3519.
9. John Remington Stratten, eldest son of James Stratten, had married in 1852 Augusta Hope (1826–72), daughter of Samuel and Rebekah Hope (née Bateman). We have been unable to determine which one of Augusta’s six sisters was travelling with the Strattens.
10. Les Maîtres sonneurs (1853); see letter 3480, note 6.
11. Children’s stories by Maria Edgeworth; see letter 3483, note 2.
12. The Religious Tract Society was founded in 1799 to publish and distribute tracts of an evangelical, nonsectarian nature. Not long after its founding, the Society began publishing books, as well as tracts, and “by the middle of the nineteenth century, the Society was circulating works in 110 languages and a total of 4,363 titles appeared on its lists” (Roger H. Martin, Evangelicals United: Ecumenical Stirrings in Pre-Victorian Britain, 1795–1830, Metuchen, New Jersey, 1983, p. 156).
13. The History of an Adopted Child (1853).
14. Frances McIntosh (née Watson, 1804?–59), widow of John McIntosh (d. 1843), of Paddington. Their daughter Charlotte (1829–61) married EBB’s brother, Octavius, in 1859. We have been unable to identify the book referred to here.
16. One of these was certainly “Bianca among the Nightingales” (see letter 3468, note 11).
17. Unidentified.
18. According to Murray’s Handbook for Travellers in Northern Italy (1856), “Villa Torrigiani … has one of the most extensive and agreeable private gardens of Florence, containing extensive conservatories. There are two villas in the gardens, which are now let to foreign families of distinction, and form the most agreeable residences within the walls. In the centre is a high tower, representing the armorial bearings of the family” (part II, p. 574). One of the villas, not far from Casa Guidi, was being leased by Frederick Tennyson. In a letter of 30 December 1855 to his brother Alfred, he wrote: “I have latterly been letting a moiety of the Villa Torrigiani finding it larger than we require and inconveniently expensive” (Hallam Tennyson, Materials for a Life of A.T., 1895, 2, 286).
___________________
