3738. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 22, 129–133.
3. Rue du Colysée
Wednesday– [27–28 February 1856] [1]
My ever beloved Arabel I have hesitated between you & Henrietta today—for she has written to me, & I have a leaning out of the thoughts to her much, poor darling, “all alone” there, [2] as Penini says! I should’nt like it, for my part. Still I do want to stir you up to writing to me again, Arabel. Oh, if you knew the good your last letter did me. I had such a fright that day about you. Think of their bringing us in a letter from somebody else .. none from you! I threw myself back on the sofa to be miserable for the day. Penini who was going out stood stock still at the door– ‘What do you wait there for,’ said Robert. ‘Oh,’ he answered, “I must dive poor dearlest mama some tisses”. And so he rushed back to kiss away the fear & sorrow .. but he could’nt! not even he. An hour afterwards up comes your letter. I cant make out how the letters come here. We get them three times a day, & sometimes oftener. How I thanked God for the deep relief your letter gave me—how I thanked you & forgave you, you naughty cruel Arabel. I do entreat you for the future not to keep me without letters. Never mind writing long letters when you are not inclined, but write something, something. Four pence are not worth the cost of œconomies. Three letters for a shilling! Let us have the advantage of being neighbours this winter, do, .. instead of the intercourse between us being slacker than ever? Then I am by no means satisfied about you, in spite of what you say—& I think its a pity you did not use the homœpathist who did you so much good before. As to expences, the expences, in the end, of allopathic attendance & medecines must necessarily be greater—so that’s quite absurd. Ah—but if you had minded the advice given to you last summer about the cod-liver oil, none of it would probably have been necessary. I believe that the codliver oil, if persisted in, would be sovereign with you, & I know something of the effect of it– I who am recommencing after the rest of a week. I have taken it regularly throughout the winter, & when people tell me that I dont look ill & thin, I lay the whole credit to the oil. But I am very fairly well now—there’s nothing to complain of. You have had occasional mildness of weather it seems .. but you have not had persistent mild weather, like ours .. comparing the notes on all sides. Dickens who has been backwards & forwards to London for the printing of ‘Little Dorrit,’ [3] told Robert there was no sort of comparison. In Sarianna’s garden, there’s an apricot tree in full-blossom. Oh—if it had’nt been for being knocked down & nearly murdered at the beginning, [4] I should have been walking in & out triumphantly all the winter. As it is, I survive, & you wont see me a bit the worse, if it please God. As to being tired with going out that day in the carriage, I was out above two hours, observe—& then being shut up in these small close rooms for months will tell upon anybody. Strength very soon comes. I assure you I am well– In spite, though, of being nearly frightened to death about Penini, .. who .. what do you think? .. all but fainted on the floor the day before yesterday. I did not see him fall .. but on hearing a sort of feeble wail, & running out, there, he was lying in Harriet’s arms, who had picked him up, quite pale & cold. He did not lose consciousness—he was frightened .. ‘did’nt know what it was,’ as he said afterwards, & so cried feebly .. I behaved very well & did’nt faint too, as you might suppose from my characteristic intrepidity, .. but ran for the Hygienic vinegar, & rubbed his hands, & kept up his courage, though I was trembling all over. It was just the consequence of a dose of senna & manna which he had taken in the morning on account of a slight cold– He had been standing in the hot Kitchen too, which he does’nt often do now. But think of a little child like Peni, fainting! We laid him on the sofa, Robert & I, .. & I read to him till dinner, & by that time the senna had produced its secondary effect of inspiring him with an alarming appetite. Afterwards his roses came into blow again– Indeed I never saw him looking better, if so well, as he does now—he’s quite radiant!—but not a robust child .. never will be. You cant think how well that child reads & translates french. We have only the phrase book to read—but by covering up the English, it does for the present .. & today he read two pages, in a way quite to surprise me. He’s proud of his French (and so am I) & is not the least shy about using it on occasions. He never would play with the children in the Tuileries though they asked him repeatedly, till he knew something of French—& then he said one day to Harriet, [‘]‘I wonder if it would make those little boys very happy if I went to play with them ..” & complied with the first invitation. He talks too to Leocadie the concierge’s child—who is “twite a darling! with such bright eyes and beautiful turls!” It’s a passion, I assure you. Tomorrow he’s going to a public ball .. the children’s day-ball in the Jardin d’Hiver, [5] .. Isa Blagden having provided herself with tickets for him & her. So kind. Of course he’s charmed about it– There are to be a hundred musicians—& the children (infantine crême de la crême of Paris) are often dressed most absurdly .. artificial flowers on their heads & ball-dresses. I shall venture to send Peni however, in his velvet frock, with the new arrangement of the body, & cut buttons &c. He’ll look as pretty as any of them, I think. The Jardin d’hiver is a gigantic conservatory-kind of building in the Champs Elysées,—& presents, on such festivals, quite a fairy scene, people say. Before I leave Peni let me tell you that this morning he was musing on your Daguer[r]eotype [6] ——“Oh, how very pretty! how it is very lite! Oh—if this picture was mine, I would teep it for ever” .. (very emphatically.) “I would teep it till I died.”——
I get on with the poem, & have finished the fifth book—altogether more than six thousand lines written & transcribed. Still I hope to have it contained in one thick volume. There will be two or three more books. [7] Robert praises it magnificently—thinks it “out & out” the best thing I ever did—which certainly it ought to be—& says it is interesting as a story. Its quite unlike anything of mine .. &, I hope, of anybody’s else. As to Swedenborgianism, spiritualism &c. the advantage for me is that though I write myself out with a good deal of frankness, neither you nor Robert will find much, if anything in me objectionable .. —the poetry will wrap me up & make me acceptable. Why? just because I express myself better, more intensely, in poetry .. & then you see the truth of me .. understand me .. which you dont, in poor conversational prose. It’s so with Robert, at any rate. And as for you, I dont feel the least afraid that you will excommunicate me, or be vexed, after reading what is written– Think of that darling Robert being moved really to tears when he told me his opinion of the poem– Twice he broke into tears– Dont mention it when you write—but I must tell you, for his sake.
Shall I spoil the effect of that when I tell you that he is about to get a letter of introduction to the famous Dupotet, & to take it to him in company with Mr Cartwright and Prince Frederick [8] .. (I think he’s a Wurt[t]emberg prince, .. but he is a great student & very simple—. Robert spends the evenings with him often at Mr Cartwright’s) & that they three are going to investigate about magnetism & spirits .. to see the most they can. Of course I am pleased– Only, people are so soon thrown off an investigation, .. and, as to Robert’s persisting, though he may begin in earnest .. I am incredulous. Mr Cartwrights [sic] believes to a certain extent .. but is quite uninstructed, I can see plainly, I who am learned in the matter in question. Mr Cartwright is going to have Alexis [9] at his house too. He can afford any sort of experiment. —Dearest Arabel, its shameful of me, but I cut this letter short just to enclose a note to Lady Eastlake because we dont know her address, & I am forced to write to her to get her to use her influence that Page’s picture (of Robert) may have a good place in the Academy. [10] Do find her address for me & direct the note & send it to the post with a stamp on it. Is dear Bummy going to you soon– When she does, remember to give my best love. How is Trippy? Has the winter told on her, do you consider? Do speak particularly about Papa– I pour out love over all of you. Oh Arabel—I cant trust myself to speak of your coming to Paris. How very, very hard! Mr Owen called one day, & hearing the usual answer given to visitors, went away. He shd have sent in his card. Ask Mary Hunter if she received my letter .. I’m so afraid I made a mistake in the address. Does Minny keep better? Write & tell me of yourself—my own dearest Arabel. Love me enough for that.
Your Ba.
Tell me true– Have you paid double for any of my letters. I want to know—for a reason.
Penini is just as fond of Ferdinando, but, between you & me, he is not spoilt so much. Ferdinando is considerably embittered by marriage cares. The other day, Penini came to us in very low spirits. “Ferdinando was very untind. Ferdinando had said that as Peni had been naughty to him he wd be naughty to Penini.” “I told him, said Penini, it was put in the Bible, if people were naughty to us we shd still be dood to them; but Ferdinando said he did’nt tare.” Poor Peni. His naughtiness really does’nt deserve great judgements.
Address: Angleterre. / Miss Barrett / 50. Wimpole Street / London.
Publication: EBB-AB, II, 212–216.
Manuscript: Gordon E. Moulton-Barrett.
1. This letter is postmarked 28 February 1856, a Thursday. EBB’s mention of “a note to Lady Eastlake” in the third to last paragraph indicates that she finished this letter on 28 February.
2. Surtees and his regiment had been posted to Aldershot (see letter 3724, note 5). Henrietta remained in Taunton with the children.
3. Little Dorrit appeared in monthly installments from December 1855 to June 1857. The last two numbers were released on 30 May 1857, and the book was published that day (see the Bradbury & Evans advertisement in The Athenæum, 30 May 1857, no. 1544, p. 703).
4. i.e., in the cold apartment at 102 Rue de Grenelle.
5. According to Galignani’s New Paris Guide (1855), “children’s balls are also given here occasionally; and on these occasions this charming spot presents what may truly be called a scene of enchantment; the fairy groups revelling in the joyous animation of the dance” (p. 503).
6. This likeness of Arabella has not been traced.
7. Aurora Leigh would eventually contain nine books. However, as of 21 April 1856, it still consisted of eight (see the second paragraph in letter 3766).
8. Friedrich Karl August, Prince of Württemberg (1808–70), second child and eldest son of Prince Paul of Württemberg and his wife, Princess Charlotte of Saxe-Hildburghausen.
9. The clairvoyant Alexis Didier (1826–86).
10. Elizabeth Eastlake (née Rigby, 1809–93) was the wife of Sir Charles Eastlake (1793–1865), president of the Royal Academy. EBB had first met her in London in 1851. Despite EBB’s efforts on Page’s behalf, the portrait was not accepted for the Royal Academy exhibition. The Eastlakes are listed in the Brownings’ address book of this period (AB-3) at 7 Fitzroy Square.
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