3724. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 22, 95–100.
3 Rue du Colysée
Tuesday. Wednesday. [29–30 January 1856] [1]
My dearest dearest Arabel how uncomfortable I cant help being about you. Dearest, I am sure you must have been very very unwell, to put a blister on—& if your maladies arise simply from weakness I dont see exactly how it was to do you much good. Well—it has done you good you say—and you are taking iron, which is certainly likely to do the swelling good. As to affecting the head, iron always will affect the head more or less, even where it most agrees—and I have hope from it certainly. Still it gives me great pain that you should be driven on any of these expedients, & I shall be very anxious as long as you have anything to say against yourself—I beseech you to write, and to write frankly—for half words as [sic, for are] as bad as most bad whole ones– I am full of bad news just now. Your letter is bad—both for yourself & Papa .. who has been ill too—though Dr El[l]iotson’s report is highly satisfactory. Besides which I have had a distressing note from Miss Bayley who writes from Devonshire Place where she is established as nurse to dear Mr Kenyon, only going home at night to sleep. He has been very ill with a tendency to water on the chest .. Dr Southey [2] & another medical man attending him twice a day. He is better, thank God, & insisting on going to Cowes before the doctors are willing to let him—but he will probably be relieved in a freer air. Miss Bayley wrote to tell us of his state—simply for that .. assuring us that the symptoms have ameliorated & that she considers him likely to get through it. Still the thought & apprehension make me sad. If he had’nt been seriously ill she would never have written, I think. You have heard, I dare say, of his illness—and yet you may not, perhaps. And poor Arlette! How sorry I am for Arlette! [3]
Well—there’s no use in howling or even sighing– Things will not be the better for it. Arabel darling, mind you write as often as you can, & remember I am at your mercy in the whole matter, & that if you dont write to me it will be hard. I cannot say how it touched me that dearest Storm should have written as he did, and I do hope you will tell him, with my tender unforgetting love, that I thank him for it. He does’nt write to me—but Penini & I often talk of him, & I of course think much oftener. Peni holds him in high esteem as his “uncle among the parrots,” & every now & then he wants to “send him a letter” to ask him for something alive & tropical .. either parrot or monkey– Oh—of course what Storm said was perfectly unavailing– For my part I have come to have no hope. Alfred’s marriage locked the door on probabilities—for he cant forgive one without a universal act of oblivion [4] of course. Poor Papa– may he be well at any rate. Do, do tell me of him. If he would pass the winters out of London he would probably be infinitely better—& I cant think why he should’nt go for a few months to Hastings or Brighton.
Dearest Arabel, do persuade Henrietta to stay where she is till after her confinement, if Surtees goes or stays. [5] I know it will be very sad. At the same time it is her duty to think of her children .. I mean the new baby & Altham. If she is confined at Plymouth she cant give Altham the proper attention, under circumstances unfavorable to the child, to say nothing of her own condition in barracks & with a medical man unknown to her. Surtees might come to see her occasionally—but I am of opinion that she ought decidedly to stay. So sorry I am—so very, very sorry. It is deplorable that it should happen so—if it does happen—but after all there is hope perhaps.
Darling, how ‘testa dura’ [6] you are, as the Italians say, about the spiritual theory. So often as I have tried to make you understand what I believe in it & what others believe, & you will persist in attributing to me ideas which never entered my head, nor need, being so absurd. A spirit at Hume’s beck & call! or at my beck & call, if I communicate with one through Hume! Who thought of such a thing? Hume is used precisely as the electric wire is used .. by which I may speak to you in less than a moment. What association have you or I with the electric wire on that account? How are we at the call of the electric wire? or how interested in the fact of how the wire is composed, as long as it answers our purposes? Observe—it is simply Hume’s physique which is used—something in the nervous element & effluence. Many of these mediums are altogether worthless as men– Hume’s character was blameless, as far as testimony goes, up to the time he went to Florence– He was discharged from a congregational church in America, but it was simply on the ground of the raps following him into church & disturbing the congregation– [7] He was well known to Dr Grey of New York– [8] I thought him very commonplace & a little affected .. but apparently amiable & affectionate. Well—he goes to Florence– He is flattered & surrounded on all sides, & his weakness succumbs– He gets into a family half in & half out of society, [9] of which there are many at Florence, .. &, as far as I can make out, falls into the clutches of some woman there, famous for spreading nets for all manner of young men– I cant make out the especial charge—for everybody swears & shrieks so high, one can make out clearly nothing at all—but as far as one can make out, its an intrigue with a woman. Also there’s more than this– Hume is apt to throw over old for new friends, to gossip unscrupulously, & to fetch & carry scandals against everybody. Thus, Mr Powers & Mrs Kinney are evidently frantic, [10] —furious against him. Mr Powers has written me a letter of which Robert himself says that the “personal feeling” is evident. [11] Mrs Kinney & he contradict themselves at every fifth line. After the great quarrel, the old “circle” held a séance, says Mrs Kinney, “with Memory for a medium” (very satisfactory of course!) & Mrs Kinney & Mr Powers came to the conclusion that some of the past wonders might have been produced by “trickery,” but that some were absolutely unaccountable on any such ground. Mrs Kinney writes me a dozen lines which begin by asserting broadly her conviction that these things are entirely supernatural, though of the devil, & ends logically by this sentence, “Perhaps Mr Browning was right after all.” The fact is she is in a state of mania, through some scandal directed against herself. And I cant feel at all clear that Hume is as bad as they would make him, even on the points which do not regard his mediumship. As to the mediumship it stands precisely as it did in my eyes– So, the whole question! Indeed, a general mental & moral weakness & facility to be influenced, are defects very likely to go with that physical susceptibility which makes a good medium. Lytton & I read over the letters together & came precisely to the same conclusions .. only he was more heated by the fury & injustice of the Florence people, than I myself was. And you are to understand that it is only certain members of the ‘old circle’ who have thrown him up—for he is astonishing the new & others more than ever .. Eight hands at once have been seen where he is now. Mr Scarlet[t] [12] came from Florence the other day & was full of it .. to Lytton. After he had seen Hume the raps & movements of furniture followed him to his own house & remained till he left Florence– How strange! I have seen a letter from Garth Wilkinson who says that Hume went to his house in London, quite alone, & that he had no one to meet him except his own (Dr W’s) immediate family. They had wonderful demonstrations of the ‘Hands’ .. and other things. The other day I saw a note of Wilkinson to Isa Blagden, who wrote to ask his opinion of Hume now, in reference to what had passed in Florence– He replies just as I should .. that the question of the mediumship is perfectly unaffected by the character of mediums whether bad or good—that his friend young Rymer had returned home (he is much in friendship with the Rymer family) & that the facts remain .. (the phenomena connected with Hume) not to be doubted of. Into the particular scandal offensive to the “pure people of Florence,” he has not thought it worth while to enquire very particularly. Perhaps you know how high Garth Wilkinson stands with all who associate with him either personally or in his books– In certain respects it is a first-rate intellect– And he is a religious man. Now, you asked me,—& I have told you. I thought it right to be quite true & frank in telling you of the explosion at Florence. I saw Mrs Pinson, [13] a lady who came from thence two or three days ago—& she told me that everybody was quarrelling with everybody on account of Hume .. whom she had not herself seen. Indeed the only pleasing news I have had from poor Florence for some time is that our house is let at last .. for five months .. at thirty scudi, about six pound ten .. a month—the first three months paid down– This is very convenient and will considerably more than cover our rent– For the rest, I am not sorry to be absent at present. Robert would probably enter into the schism, tooth & nail—though I dont know .. ! Mrs Kinney’s violent commination clauses are seldom to his taste, and formerly he used to lean to spiritualism immediately he began to talk to her. He might have taken up the Hume side of controversy perhaps, with her on the other. She is a truthful woman .. but very coarse & very violent .. & a little vicious when provoked to kick– Frederick Tennyson has seen none of the demonstrations, Mrs Pinson told me,—uniformly maintaining that the “spirits” are just devils & “frogs,” [14] & not to be treated with. It has been cold at Florence. The Arno, for the first time since 49, was frozen over– Since then the weather turned to heat, as it has done here. Think of Isa Blagden breakfasting here at the open window– I content myself with letting the fire out.
I am much better in my chest, keeping on with the oil religiously. Still that Rue de Grenelle (on the back of England) did me great harm, & it was some time before I got over the results of it– Even now I am afraid of myself, & more careful than usual, or I should have been out over & over again lately, in a carriage or walking even. We have had six weeks of miraculous mildness. Then our house is perfect, .. if I had but a table for my private papers.
So busy I am—worked out of breath, to get on with the poem. I finished the second book, & gave it to Robert to read, & he lifted me up as high as his dear arms could go, with encouraging sayings of it. He thinks it exceeds anything I have done yet– Oh—I do hope & trust it’s a true judgement. I begin to be braver. Yes—I was horribly desponding about it, (& about most things besides, at one time)—but we get into light again, (in spite of Hume’s disgracing me, Arabel)—and I go on fagging, fagging. See what I do everyday. We breakfast at nine—& before I am out of bed I hear Peni say his two french verbs, (which he says beautifully) .. & Robert, before I am drest, hears him say his spelling. After breakfast I hear him [say] the rest of his lessons till the hour and a half are out. He never has more than an hour & a half, unless he is very naughty & keeps me a quarter of an hour longer. Afterwards, from a little after eleven I write sedulously, till half past three or four & we dine. After dinner I take a book over the fire & always fall asleep over it I am so tired. I never receive anybody in the morning—the doors are shut—unless Sarianna comes (which she does less now, seeing me so busy) until the evening—or after four .. which is late for morning-visiting at this time of year. In the evening, the Brownings are here often .. or others drop in. Sometimes Robert goes out– Which does’nt prevent visitors to me. I assure you I had two tête à tête evenings last week, one with Mr Lytton, when we had our spiritual confidences out—and one with Capt Aidé, .. who is scarcely as interesting, though cultivated & very good. Mr Ruskin has sent Robert his new book, an expensive present– [15] He is to mention him in the next volume which comes out in eight weeks for his “extraordinary knowledge of mediæval art,” [16] for which Ruskin considers him “unique among poets.” Then Robert had a letter yesterday from Carlyle who had been present at Lord Ashburton’s when two evenings were dedicated to the reading of Men & Women, Lady Ashburton being the reader. She is distinguished, it appears, for her skill as a reader. The audience were very intelligent & full of admiration & appreciation. Carlyle says he hears eve<ryw>here that the books are making way in England. I am discontented with the peace, having hoped too much perhaps from the war. [17] Poor Italy. Penini gets on surprisingly with his French. As to geography—he will analyse the world to you in no time. I never saw such an element of lightning as is in that child’s brain. He flashes & understands a thing: but is a baby as much as ever. Last night he was upbraiding Harriet—“Really I tant allow you to tall Mama ‘mum’. Its tuite dleadful.” “What am I to call her,” says Harriet. “Why, mama to be sure!” How glad I am our dear Minny is up at last. My love to her. Peni was enchanted with your letter. Write to me dearest. My best love to everybody—& Trippy in spite of compliments. So glad I am of Mr Hunter. Did Mary get my letter addressed to Mrs Owen.
Address: Angleterre. / Miss Barrett / 50. Wimpole Street / London.
Publication: EBB-AB, II, 203–208.
Manuscript: Gordon E. Moulton-Barrett.
1. This letter is postmarked 30 January 1856, a Wednesday.
2. Henry Herbert Southey (1784–1865), physician and younger brother of the poet Robert Southey, was a long-time friend of Kenyon and attended him in his last illness. In his will Kenyon bequeathed Southey a legacy of £8,000.
3. We have been unable to clarify this remark.
4. “An act or bill granting a general pardon for political offences” (OED).
5. Surtees Cook’s regiment, the 1st Somerset Militia, had been ordered to Aldershot camp in Hampshire. The regiment left Taunton by train on 7 February 1856 (see Surtees, 7 February 1856).
6. “Hard headed.”
7. This anecdote is unconfirmed. Home did attend a Congregationalist church while living with his aunt and uncle in Norwich, Conn. In Incidents in My Life (New York, 1863), Home recalls that his aunt invited the minister of the church (along with ministers from the Baptist and Methodist churches) “to consult with her, and to pray for me”; but “the congregationalist would not enter into the subject, saying that he saw no reason why a pure-minded boy should be persecuted for what he was not responsible to prevent or cause” (pp. 23–24).
8. John Franklin Gray (1804–82), American homœopathic physician, surgeon, and journalist. According to Jean Burton, Gray had “urged Home to take up this science [i.e., homœopathy] to supplement his occult healing powers” (Heyday of a Wizard, New York, 1944, p. 34).
9. The Crossmans; see letter 3711, note 4. The “some woman” she has in mind is probably Georgina Baker (née Crossman), who was separated from her husband and was “rumoured to be liberal of her affections” (Waddington, p. 320).
10. Mrs. Kinney’s journal for late 1855 contains numerous references to Home’s presence in Florence and to séances he conducted among a group of Anglo-Florentines, consisting of the Kinneys, the Powerses, the Cottrells, and the Trollopes, which Home labelled the “Circle of Love.” The entry for 20 December 1855 is the first record of the group’s disenchantment with Home, and by 3 January 1856, Mrs. Kinney wrote: “Not the least instructive of my practical lessons has been that received thro’ our experience with Mr Hume (or Home) this spiritual ‘Medium.’ He, who verily seemed of Christ’s fold, but has proved himself ‘a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’ Yes, we have fairly seen ‘the cloven foot’ in him, which sends me back to my first fear, that all these things called ‘Spiritualism’ are of ‘the Evil-One.’ … So ends my experience with this mysterious ‘Medium’ of diablerie” (ms at Columbia).
12. Peter Campbell Scarlett (1804–81), secretary of the British Legation in Tuscany.
13. Sic, for Penson; see letter 3583, note 2.
14. Cf. Revelation 16:13.
15. The Smith, Elder & Co. advertisement for Modern Painters, Vol. III (1856) in The Athenæum of 19 January 1856 includes the price: “38s.” (no. 1473, p. 84).
17. i.e., the Crimean War. After the allies had taken Sebastopol in September 1855, there had been no major offensives mounted by either side. An armistice was agreed to on 26 February 1856, and there followed the signing of a peace treaty in Paris on 30 March (EB). EBB hoped that Piedmontese involvement in the war (see letter 3525, note 10) would prompt France and England to pressure Austria to relinquish some of her territory in Italy. This did not happen.
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