3537. EBB to Sarianna Browning
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 21, 116–123.
[Florence]
[ca. 25–28] [March 1855] [1]
If I am brief my dearest Sarianna, set it down to Robert who rushes into the room with a quarter of an hour’s leave to write. I thought he was hard at his poetry & did not imagine he was meaning to send you a letter by this post. It’s all right though, since in your kindness you wanted to hear quickly. None of your fears are realized, dear– We have had not a touch of cold. Wet weather almost unintermittently for more than a month .. with happy prospects of being washed away by the Arno .. and now the spring!!– Robert proposed my going out yesterday, but really I am nervous about it, & too well just now not to wish to “leave well alone” as we say in England. If I had had no attack I might have gone out this week past & enjoyed it much. Bright sunshine (constraining to the use of parasols) and the violets sprouting everywhere to Penini’s delight.
Dont let me forget to tell you of Penini. Said I to him .. “Sarianna says in her letter that she is afraid you will forget her & Nonno.” —“Then really that is quite silly of Sarianna! When I am always sinting about lem.”
Ought I to enforce the “aunt Sarianna”—ought I? The child calls me “Ba” as often as not. He does’nt understand our dignities. And then ‘aunt Sarianna’ has a long, formal sound to my ears, rather. He talks of “Allibel” in a like indecorous manner—& I cant find it in my heart to stop him.
The poem we send you was written in January, [2] & Robert & I are enchanted with it– “Really,” said I, “it’s rather like Heine”! “And Tiney,” .. added Robert. He will tell you of the music which was composed at the same time. The child is almost too perfect—he frightens me with his loveliness, & cleverness, & goodness.
Nonno’s beautiful snow-sketch which we all admire together, Penini will write a letter of thanks for very soon.
Be comforted, dearest Sarianna about England. England wont go down either in the sea or in the world’s appreciation for these late disasters by which she will learn so much, I hope, as to stand, in the result, still higher than before. The “revolutionary Times” is doing an immense deal of good, from whatever motive—— I dont believe, you know, in the seraphic justice & truth & purity of motive of the Times,—& I should have set down many things as exaggerated, long ago, if it had not been for the private sources of information. [3]
By the way .. I am sceptical of the story about prince Napoleon. [4] In the first place if he had refused, the sin against military discipline wd never have been endured by the French military authorities. He would not have dared to refuse, I think. But what is conclusive with me is the consideration .. that if there had been any delay beyond what was obviously necessary, from any cause, or in consequence of anybody’s fault in the coming up of the French, we should have heard of it from the English. Now in the various accounts we have read both public & private, both printed & in manuscript, of the battle of Inkermann, we have never heard a syllable of this, breathed. There was one letter in particular from Lieutenant Colonel Harding (Dr Harding’s son,) praised for his activity as a commandant, to which rank he has just been raised, in the newspapers. [5] I remember the grateful admiration he expressed towards the French on that very occasion. “Three hours” sounds a long time to unlearned ears—but the distance is considerable between the French & English headquarters—. Do you imagine for a moment that if the help of the allies had not arrived as quickly as our people judged materially possible, such men as De Lacy Evans [6] for instance, would use the unmeasured language they are using everyday? Why, delay at such a moment would have been atrocious.
Robert has been very bitter with both the Duke of Cambridge [7] & prince Napoleon about their retreat—but really, I dont see that there would have been much good done, by their dying of fever before Sebastopol. “They should have died however”, says Robert.
Penini, hearing by chance of those French being blown up by the countermine the other day, [8] .. was a good deal moved—and after a thoughtful pause observed,—“If I were a French general there, I would leave off fighting.” “You would’nt be of much use then,[”] said I. “But mama,[”] he argued, .. “I think that it might be a good thing if the French all left off fighting—because then, the Russians might think ‘Perhaps the French love us,’ .. and they might come & kiss.”
If there’s a heavenly Cobden, [9] of such a colour is he–
I must end—— Interrupted by Robert imperiously——
With tender love to both of you,
your Ba–
I cant read over even.
Robert has kept his letter back a day or so, till Penini should have finished his, dearest Sarianna, & I am the more glad to send Penini’s as I have to tell you that the darling has been ill .. in bed two days! Oh—you & nonno will be very angry with me I fear—for indeed it was much my fault that he was ill, only, as Dr Harding said, “it seemed quite rational to do what I did.” I will tell you– Penini who has been blossoming like a rose, received on his birthday a fatal gift of bon bons– One day, he took too many .. or they were bad– He complained in the evening of head ache, & we gave him the usual grey powder, which agrees with him & was recommended by Harding. Next morning the headache was gone—but he was very sick .. apparently from the medecine not acting as it always does—and I rashly, instead of being patient & waiting, gave him senna– The consequence was diarrhea followed by dysenteric symptoms .. the latter very slight but frightening us out of our wits. Robert went at once for Dr Harding, who pronounced that it was not at all dangerous .. would be nothing, .. but was clearly the result of irritation of the mucous membrane of the stomach, through a too active medecine. He gave only an emulsion of oil of almonds, & recommended quiet. Our angel Penini could only be quiet– He lay in bed in a way that terrified us .. looking too seraphical, with overpink cheeks, & over bright eyes, (there was fever all day) never speaking, nor seeming much to wake– When, at night, Ferdinando came to his bedside & the child cheered up at the sight of him & began to talk Italian & to say how he would take him to see the elephants in Paris, I could have kissed Ferdinando I was so grateful– Our precious little Penini! For two days he scarcely tasted a thing. On the third, he was well & in the drawing-room—much pulled down of course—much thinner .. he who was so round. This was a fortnight ago—we have half forgotten our tribulations .. only that we are so thankful for the dear red cheeks, & that I believe I shall be frightened to ever give him medecine again. Think of his saying to Wilson .. “Dear Lily. I’m sure I’m going to die!” Oh—I did’nt hear that at the time, or it would have been hard to bear. He had a good deal of pain off & on, &, when it passed, he used to say—“Sant Dod, lat pain is more better.” Sometimes he is too divine, really.
Peni’s illness cured me of my convalescence. I had not stirred from these two rooms, enjoying priviledges of post invalidship—but (in the manner of the famous Unfortunate whose eyes were “scratched in again” by “another hedge”) [10] suddenly I forgot the fear of draughts & was made free of the whole house. Of course Robert & I were always with him—besides dear good Wilson—& that good Ferdinando who is as tender as a woman. The child is perfectly well, you are to understand– If you & nonno were to sit down & wish, you could not wish him better– He recovers flesh, & is quite as strong as ever—with a supererogatory appetite. You must forgive me for what proved a mistake about the medecine– He seldom takes medecine, & it was therefore, I suppose, he felt it more–
Miss White [11] has arrived & gone to Rome– I liked her– She is earnest, I think. What a beautiful album you sent by her! The drawings are full of character, & we are all in admiration before them, besides Penini– Miss White is so charmed with Florence that she talks of coming back to live here. [12]
Dearest Sarianna, Robert & I cant make out what M. Milsand means about the tone of the English papers .. which I dont see, though Robert does—at Vieussieux’s [sic], where, I believe, there’s every paper in the world taken in, the Chinese inclusive. Why, the most popular man in England just now, is Louis Napoleon– The reaction even runs into the absurd of enthusiasm, for the people can scarcely elect a member of parliament, without giving “three cheers for the emperor of the French.” Even the Examiner has gone over bodily– [13]
I must admit however that there’s an exception in the Athenæum [14] —& Robert & I (I mention him as being ‘above suspicion’) [15] have groaned for a long while over it’s infamous taste in certain implications & little niggling insinuations– It’s the worse of the Athenæum, because the profession of the paper is to be non-political. Always, the Athenæum is ungenerous (& ill informed) .. whatever the motive .. towards France—as to literature, & as to art– You were struck, for instance, by the temper of the article on George Sand .. which disgusted me as much as it did you. The want of reverence, the want of justice, .. the petty spite, were absolutely intolerable to me. [16]
Perhaps as M. Milsand mentions Douglas Jer[r]old, he may refer to such a paper as the ‘Leader,’ .. which may, for aught we know .. (it’s a paper of so little authority that Vieussieux does’nt take it in) adopt its own old ruts for travelling in. [17]
How the months go!—how soon we shall be on you! I wish I could draw April out into other three months for the sake of my work—& Robert’s would be the better, also, for three– Still, we are using the present time– Robert doubts whether he shall not have to split his great heap of poems into two volumes,—& I, whether anybody will get through such a thick volume as I am making! Between five & six thousand lines already– To be seven or eight!– And Robert will have at least seven thousand, he declares. [18]
Dearest Sarianna, I hope you will prepare to go with us to England– I shall insist on carrying you away … remember. It will be sad to leave the dear Nonno, but we shall come back to him soon, & he wont mind when he has us within reach. Miss White told us fabulous tales of cheap apartments in Paris, which she has hunted through, she says.
I am sorry, & so is Penini, & so is Robert (a little) that nonno has been unwell– Take care of yourselves—& particularly with reference to Mr Byrne! Love to dear Mrs Corkran—I will write.
Miss White brought me a bouquet (like a large parasol) of Florence flowers .. (I could scarcely with both arms lift it from the table,) composed of white camel[l]ias & white hyacinths! The flowers are exquisite here—to say nothing of her kindness!
They cant sow the wheat for wet, & there are bitter winds—north winds besides. Vegetation is rotting– Well—in the matter of the piano, I should’nt mind Mrs Thomas, [19] if I were you– And as to the people overhead, unless you have the conscience of Mr Carlyle’s next door neighbours, [20] I cant imagine why you think of them– Do you not go to Galignani’s sometimes? where on payment of half a franc, you see all the English papers & periodicals? Women always go there. [21] It is one of the great conveniences of Paris in my opinion. My poor Arabel is most uncomfortably situated by a complication of discomforts—but bears up bravely enough. She is anxious, with the rest, about Lizzy– My brother who is going into the gazette, thinks it a good opportunity of being married to Lizzy? [22] What do you think? Meanwhile Lizzy behaves abominably to Arabel! She is the martyr of our family, dear darling. Always she mentions you & sends her love to you. God bless you dearest Sarianna, & keep your heart up in the light & hope. I think we shall have some bright days in Paris after all, together.
I cant help laughing at your cod’s liver oil, which is to do some good after six months taking. It’s something like being cut up in Medæa’s cauldron, as a remedy! [23]
But I am well, & decidedly fatter. So much to the sun, so much to the cod’s liver!
Love—your ever affectionate sister Ba–
Best love to your father.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Fitzwilliam Museum and Lilly Library.
1. Dating suggested by EBB’s reference to Pen’s illness, which occurred “a fortnight ago” (see the 16 March section of letter 3533), and by her mention of RB’s letter being kept back “a day or so.”
2. “The Poem of Lucy Lee.” The copy sent to Sarianna is missing.
3. EBB alludes to the many editorials critical of the government’s management of the war that appeared in The Times over the past several months. An editorial in the issue of 21 March 1855 contained the following remarks: “Now, it is a plain and undisputed matter of fact that the worst enemy, the real enemy … is the vicious system of our army, and of the departments concerned in the conduct of the war. We have been beaten, massacred, paralyzed, and disgraced, not by the Russians, but by persons placed where they are in spite of their known unfitness to meet the requirements of a corrupt system” (p. 9). Although a special committee was created the following year to investigate the “corrupt system,” it remained in place until its abolition in 1871.
4. Joseph Charles Paul Bonaparte (1822–91), also known as Jerome Napoleon, Prince Napoleon, and “Plon-Plon,” was the emperor’s first cousin. He had gone to the Crimea in May 1854 and was in command of reserve troops during the battles of the Alma and of Inkerman. In his book on the latter, Alexander William Kinglake points out that during the battle Prince Napoleon was compelled to move his battalions in “the opposite direction” from Inkerman in order “to aid the repulse” of a Russian sortie (Inkerman, 1875, pp. 78–79). By the time he was able to march towards Inkerman, he was “too late to take part in the fight” (p. 79). In November 1855, not long after the battle of Inkerman, he left the front for Constantinople, claiming the need to recuperate from a bout of dysentery. He remained there for two months before returning to Paris, despite the advice and wishes to the contrary of everyone, including Napoleon III. Illness may have played a role, but according to Edgar Holt, “in the end there seems little doubt that Plon-Plon used his princely rank to escape from the hardships which others had to face” (Plon-Plon: The Life of Prince Napoleon, 1822–1891, 1973, p. 94). EBB is doubtless referring to his desertion of his duties, but she may also be alluding to further accusations against him. “In February an anonymous brochure entitled ‘The conduct of the war in the east’, by ‘A general officer’, was published in Brussels. It was a violent criticism of everything that had happened in the Crimea, and since it was almost exactly what Prince Napoleon had been saying, it was at first thought that he had written it” (Holt, p. 95). However, “the authorship of the booklet was eventually traced to the Hungarian General Klapka” (p. 96).
5. Francis Pym Harding, breveted a lieutenant colonel on 12 December 1854, was appointed commandant of Balaklava in January 1855. A report on the current situation there in The Daily News of 17 March 1855 contained the following: “Colonel Harding, who came forward at the eleventh hour to make good what the culpable neglect of his two predecessors had made bad, must surely be in constant communication with the Board of Health, for all his measures and arrangements savour of Whitehall rather than of the expedition to the east. He has come to the conclusion … that every inch of ground, each house, each stone, is pregnant with the germs of disease. Having settled this point in his mind, the present commandant did not, as is the custom in the army, sit down and leave the case alone as hopeless and irremediable, but he resolved to pull the town down … and to build up a new Balaklava in the place of the old one. This resolution is now being carried out” (p. 5).
6. George de Lacy Evans (1787–1870), army officer and M.P. for Westminster, had been in command of the 2nd division in the Crimea, leading “his forces with distinction” at the battle of the Alma (ODNB). Despite being wounded, suffering from illness and being thrown from a horse, he was present at the battle of Inkerman, but only in an advisory capacity. We have been unable to trace Evans’s comments about French participation at Inkerman.
7. Prince George, 2nd Duke of Cambridge (1819–1904), eldest son of Prince Adolphus Frederick, 1st Duke of Cambridge (1774–1850), and his wife Princess Augusta of Hessen-Kassel, was a grandson of George III. He commanded the 1st Division in the Crimea and saw action at the battles of the Alma and of Inkerman. During the latter engagement he had his horse shot out from under him. “Two days after Inkerman the duke was ordered to rest, as he had succumbed to dysentery and typhoid fever. … The duke left the Crimea on 25 November and a medical board invalided him home on 27 December” (ODNB). Following his return to England, he received the public thanks of Parliament and a number of honors and medals. In 1856 he succeeded Lord Hardinge as commander in chief of the British Army.
9. Richard Cobden (1804–65), an advocate for peace and non-intervention, had spoken many times in the House of Commons against war with Russia prior to its declaration.
11. Jessie Meriton White (afterwards Mario, 1832–1906), historian and biographer of Mazzini and Garibaldi, had studied radical philosophy in Paris while supporting herself by teaching and writing. She was a forceful crusader for Italian independence, though the Brownings felt her to be a misguided one because of her allegiance to Mazzini. In December 1857 she married fellow Mazzini supporter Alberto Mario (1825–83). Miss White had travelled to Florence in the company of Garibaldi’s fiancée Emma Roberts and one of the latter’s daughters. They had first stayed with Garibaldi at Nice in the autumn of 1854, then accompanied him to the island of Sardinia before going on to Florence (see Elizabeth Adams Daniels, Jessie White Mario: Risorgimento Revolutionary, Athens, Ohio, 1972, pp. 8–9).
12. She spent the last ten years of her life in Florence as a teacher of English literature at the Normal School (Daniels, p. 115).
13. Following the coup d’état of 2 December 1851, The Examiner had been one of Louis Napoleon’s most determined critics, but it had become more and more conciliatory as the French-English alliance against Russia took hold (see letter 3343, note 7). In a 24 February 1855 editorial, The Examiner applauded Napoleon III’s resolve to visit the Crimea: “He is eager to go and see for himself the state of besieged and besieger, and so form upon the spot the decision of which generals appear incapable. It would be idle to suppose him impelled by any desire of military glory, by the mere love of excitement or ambition to command. If the war be successful, to him must now accrue the greatest portion of the merit” (p. 113). The editorial went on to compare the emperor’s commitment of men and finances to the war with England’s own inactivity: “We wish that we could point to the like. But whilst we have little to show beyond commissions of inquiry, and unseemly personal disputes, the ruler of France is actually doing all that we are talking about” (p. 113).
14. We are unable to substantiate this remark.
15. Plutarch, Life of Julius Cæsar, X, 8–9: “Cæsar’s wife must be above suspicion.”
16. A lengthy review of George Sand’s History of My Life, parts II and III, appeared in The Athenæum of 27 January 1855 (no. 1422, pp. 110–112). The reviewer, Henry Chorley (as given in the marked file copy of The Athenæum now at City University, London), could barely contain his contempt for the subject. Criticizing Madame Sand’s presentation of her ancestry, he wrote: “She wastes time and labour on details of no interest, on passages which it is useless to follow. … Page succeeds to page, paragraph to paragraph,—in order merely (it seems to us) that we may arrive at some such climax as this:—‘I am what I am; I have written what I have written, from having been born of gifted people, who—partly from circumstance, partly from temperament—despised the established ordinances and arrangements of morals and law. … Can you wonder, then, if I have inherited instincts and advocated principles of rebellion against the world’s established code of domestic obligation and duty?’” (p. 110). Chorley concluded his notice with the following: “The section which we have glanced at in the above is too prolix in its sentimentalities, and will be found tiresome by readers who have less patience with the acts and artifices of the Confessional than the Athenæum” (p. 112).
17. We are unable to explain EBB’s remarks here. She seems to imply that Jerrold wrote for The Leader; however, there is no evidence that he ever contributed to that periodical.
18. RB’s Men and Women (1855) consists of over 7,000 lines; EBB’s Aurora Leigh (1857), of nearly 11,000.
19. Unidentified.
20. EBB had evidently heard of Thomas Carlyle’s noisy and exasperating neighbors, particularly the Ronca family who lived at 6 Cheyne Row and raised poultry and kept parrots. During the summer and autumn of 1853 the sound of the roosters drove Carlyle to distraction. In December of that year Jane Carlyle was able to force the Roncas to sell the fowls (see Carlyle, 28, 350–351).
21. According to Galignani’s New Paris Guide for 1855, “the reading-room is spacious and handsome, well lighted and aired. The tables are covered with all the European newspapers and periodical publications worthy of notice. … The terms of subscription are—per day, 10 sous [i.e., 50 centimes or half a franc]. … Ladies are admitted” (p. 14). Located at 18 Rue Vivienne, the establishment also offered a circulating library by subscription.
22. Alfred and Lizzie were married in Paris on 1 August 1855. “Going into the gazette” (that is, the London Gazette) meant that he was about “to be published a bankrupt” (OED). However, we have been unable to trace any notice of his bankruptcy in that periodical.
23. Medea, to demonstrate her powers to the daughters of Pelias, cut up an old ram, boiled the pieces in a cauldron, and then produced from them a young lamb.
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