3757. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 22, 166–170.
3 Rue du Colysée.
April 1. [1856] [1]
My ever dearest Arabel I do hesitate whether to send this letter to you or Henrietta– I am thinking much of her just now—but she wont be thinking as much of me as you are .. (with the two absorbing) babies, & one coming,) [2] .. & I know you’ll be wondering what has become of me. Then its much the same thing,—as you send my letters. Dearest dearest Arabel, I’ve been in tribulation since I wrote last, & this kept me from writing again sooner. I told you of Robert’s being unwell. He grew more & more unwell—& then Penini caught it (the ulcerated throat) & we were in fear .. I, in terror .. about Penini. He scarcely complained of his throat,—but one morning he came in to me while I was dressing, & told me he “felt pale all over,” & “intlined to shate.” Which was followed by decided fever .. cheeks like scarlet .. rapid pulse &c. At first we did’nt mind much—gave castor oil .. which he could’nt retain .. a grey powder at night .. equally unsuccessful .. but succeeded the next morning with his usual senna & manna. The fever however went on—& although it was intermittent & he had not bad nights, .. still it told upon him .. he did’nt care for Leocadie .. put away his soldiers’ hat .. & let Harriet carry him about the house like a baby, .. lying curled up by me on the sofa nearly all day .. with a decided taste for literature, which is a mortal symptom with Penini. I sent out to borrow books for him, it was so developped. At last he complained of his head, & then I gave up all equanimity,—& Robert rushed out for a medical man. We had a Frenchman .. who immediately examined the throat & found an ulcer—which was the cause of all. He told us afterwards that if it had gone on it would have ended in croup in so young a child, & that this made him fearful. But all passed off safely, & he paid us only two visits—most considerately leaving ample directions. Such a relief it was. Thank God. That child, when he is ill, is so frightfully angelic that it breaks one’s heart– “O dearest mama, dont loot so unhappy! its only lite the head of a pin. [3] I tant bear to see you loot so! I shall be tuite well tomorrow—you’ll see now.” Taking everything we gave him—only asking for “tisses”.! Our doctor said he had caught the malady from Robert—‘it was very infectious.’ Of course. And he could’nt be kept from hanging about Robert’s neck at all hours– As to poor Robert his attack was worse in reality, complicated too with bilious disorder, although he would have no advice, & he threw the general house into less agitation. Even up to this day he is not strong as he was,—but the convalescence is decided, & satisfactory for the last two days—& last friday he was able to recommence his reading of Keats for Lady Elgin. I assure you she came up in her chair again & again to see after him—but for three weeks he could’nt get down to her at night—the risk would have been too great. You may be sure he is not ill now– As a proof, he breaks his vow against dinners in favour of Lady Monson, [4] who invites him to meet Monc[k]ton Milnes, Mrs Sartoris, Cavour [5] (the Sardinian minister) and … George Sand!! who could resist such a temptation? This is for today. Penini who had fallen off dreadfully those four days, has recovered himself quite, & looks as round & rosy as ever .. & went to the Champs de Mars today with Ferdinando to see the review, [6] —& comes back triumphantly having had sight of Napoleon & eaten two oranges. Ferdinando expresses an opinion that the French people are mad in a body .. that for miles, as they walked, there was nothing but eating & drinking and waiting for “l’empereur” on both sides of the road. In fact, says Robert, “Paris is one huge fair.” There’s satisfaction about the peace, [7] and in the “baby” [8] .. & the weather is splendid—only an undercurrent of sharp wind through the brilliant sunshine, which makes me wary of going out. But everybody else goes out—& I dare say they like it. Oh—how I should like for you to see Paris. It is so southern in character & habits, & so strangely beautiful. Next to Venice it comes, to my mind.– Well—so you dont believe in the “baby” as well as in the spirits. Perhaps you think, as certain anti-imperialists swear, that twenty women in pangs of maternity were screeching at once in the cellars of the Tuileries—first come, first served!—an admirable way, as Robert says, to keep a secret! twenty women,—and nineteen of them under provocation to speak!– No, Arabel—I dont think it “suspicious.” The baby’s a baby .. “genuine,” as the Americans accent it. Also the poor Empress suffered intensely .. through being violently affected by the intrusion round her bed of the necessary male witnesses. This produced such an effect on her [9] .. that she lost all self-command & shrieked repeatedly ‘tuez moi, tuez moi’ [10] … we know this from a reliable source. What is stranger is the bearing of the emperor. The cold, reserved man, (so considered) was so absorbed in anxiety about his wife as a woman, that, for four & twenty hours, a crumb of food did not pass his lips—nothing .. except one glass of madeira which a medical attendant held to them, & forced him to take. At the time of her great suffering he completely lost his head .. He never thought of the baby—(so they swear)—he was in such anguish on her account—& when they told him the child was a boy, he said quite wanderingly .. “Then you must fire the twenty one guns” .. meaning “the hundred and one”– [11] For herself, when the child was given to her, she clasped it to her breast in an agony of joy, & could scarcely be brought to loose her hold. The reaction was too great, poor thing. The emperor had to speak to her to prevail on her to give it up. Penini has written a poem on the “baby” .. called “The baby of Napoleon” .. & he wears a medal, (of which he is immensely proud) which commemorates the event. You shall see one of his poems one of these days—but I always grudge the room for my gossip. You know you shall have his copy-book to examine soon. The two last are ‘my squirrel,’ and [‘]‘the baby” &c. He develops very fast mentally. I assure you his French is extraordinary, considering the time he has given to it. He is reading a play of Berquin’s [12] which I had fancied would have been beyond him, but he enters into the whole spirit of it, reading it dramatically,—till I quite wonder at the child. But his heart has been in this matter of learning French, & he has put out his powers. I never learnt French with that rapidity .. looking back at myself. And he has a good accent too .. better than mine is now, I am well aware. Then he is in the fourth volume of Miss Edgeworth in Italian [13] .. has read Frank in Italian, & Rosamond—& is reading the second part of Harry & Lucy. I fancied it would be dry & was inclined to keep it from him—but as he heard it was for children ten years old, that was quite enough to make him ambitious of reading it—and he takes it all in quite comprehendingly, & is very learned & interested about “thermometers.” [14] He has done a portrait of Napoleon for you .. but it is on a great sheet of paper & beyond the post [15] —wonderfully done—really like .. copied from a sou. People are amazed at it, looking at the child and the drawing together! I assure you Peni is rather a celebrated person at Paris .. what with drawings, poems, & curls. And I’m fairly proud of him when he has read his French, Italian, & English .. all so well! Of course his familiarity with the Italian has helped him in French—we must acknowledge that.
I have had another letter from Florence on the spirit-question. Here it is said that Hume’s quarrel with certain coteries there, proved an advantage to him by removing him to others more cultivated & intelligent,—from many of which he has received valuable testimonials. A Polish count [16] of wealth & respectability received him into his suite, allowing him the advantage of his son’s tutors, & carrying him away with him to Naples. He was forced to leave Florence, I think I told you, through a notification from the government—the spiritual movement extending further than could be tolerated, papistically. [17] The manifestations had remained wonderful—the “hands” writing in sight, & autographs of deceased persons being so produced .. one, for instance, of Madme Orsini’s father [18] —she recognized it. Baron French, [19] the banker, desired (as a test) that the spirit of his father, [20] who announced himself, should prove his identity by playing on the accordion an air which the said spirit had in life composed, .. which had been executed years ago on Baron French’s wedding-day, [21] .. which had never existed out of manuscript, or been known to any person in Florence except himself. The air was played instantly, & most beautifully. My correspondent (Mr Jarves) has been grievously offended himself by Hume, [22] & considers that on the whole he has behaved very ill in Florence saying things which he should not, &c &c– He is weak, & had his head turned by attentions. There is nothing much worse– But the quarrelling in Florence about him & in consequence of him is to an extent which is quite curious. Mr Jarves says that in America the manifestations extend—& that though there are many aberrations of doctrine conveyed, the impulse of the majority, the general conclusion, is towards a cleaner & simpler acceptation of Christian doctrine as Christ gave it, .. to the neglect of all subsequent & modern dogmas & forms .. with a development towards the future to suit these times. Robert is “meek as maid” [23] upon the subject now. Not that he believes. Oh no—but he is ready to speak reason & hear it. I have hope he will be a medium one of these days, for he has taken to rain fire out of his hair! Think of that. He combs it in the dark, & out come the sparks like fire-flies, to Peni’s awe, & my admiration. [24] Robert says I never appreciated him so much in my life. We have excellent news of the poems from America—& Mr Fields sends to him for his photograph. [25] I am hard at work & write from thirty to fifty lines a day—so that I shall certainly have done in time ..–
Wednesday–
The dinner went off most agreeably last night. The Sartoris[e]s, Cavour (Sardinian minister), Lord Holland, Mignet, (the French historian), [26] Monckton Milnes, & George Sand .. who smoked five cigarettes .. though no man smoked besides, & Mrs Sartoris & Lady Monson were present. She was dressed becomingly .. had an ivy wreath round her hair .. femininely, notwithstanding,—& looked, Robert says, very handsome.
Page’s portrait is sent to the Exhibition, & I shall be anxious about it. We talk of going to Rome next winter, but who knows? If we do, we shall come back to Paris probably for the succeeding winter– Only let us get money by our books—& we shall, I hope. Do write at once,
Your own Ba.
Robert’s best love–
Address: Angleterre / Miss Barrett / 50. Wimpole Street / London.
Publication: EBB-AB, II, 220–225.
Manuscript: Gordon E. Moulton-Barrett.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. Placement of parentheses is EBB’s.
3. Cf. OED definition of “pin’s head”: “as a type of something very small, or of very slight value or significance.”
5. Camillo di (or Camille de) Cavour (1810–61), prime minister of Piedmont and one of the chief builders of a unified Italy, was in Paris for the peace conference. He was hoping to obtain French and English influence to secure, and perhaps increase, Piedmont’s interests. Cavour recorded this dinner in his diary for “1 avril, mardi,” noting the presence of “Monckton Milnes. Mme Sand. Mignet. – Mme de Vatry,” but omitting any mention of RB (Camillo Cavour, Diari (1833–1856), ed. Alfonso Bogge, Rome, 1991, II, 719).
6. The Times of 3 April 1856 carried an account of the review, filed by its Paris correspondent on the 1st: “A grand review of all the corps stationed in the first military division took place to-day in the Champ de Mars. This seemed to be regarded as in some measure the confirmation of the treaty of peace signed on Sunday. … From an early hour in the morning various bodies of every arm of the service were put in motion, and at intervals of 10 minutes or a quarter of an hour the bursts of martial music announced the passing of the troops to the place of general rendezvous. Thousands upon thousands of spectators, never more excited than on such an occasion, accompanied the army in regular time to the sound of the bugle or the beat of the drum. Men, women, and children were all abroad. An immense crowd filled the terraces of the Tuileries. … At a quarter to 1 a squadron of the Cent Gardes issued from the gate of the Tuileries, which opens on the Place de la Concorde. The Emperor followed at some distance. His Majesty … had Count Orloff on his right hand, and Prince Napoleon on his left; and they were followed by a numerous and brilliant staff. The cortége proceeded along the Quai deBilly to the Pont de Jena, by which he [the Emperor] entered the Champ de Mars. His appearance was the signal for all the bands to strike up, and he was hailed by the acclamations of the multitude” (p. 7).
7. The Treaty of Paris (1856), signed on 30 March, officially ended the Crimean War.
9. Here, EBB interpolated the phrase “(& terrifying the Emperor),” but then deleted it.
10. “Kill me, kill me.”
13. Prime Lezioni (4 vols., Milan, 1833); see letter 3525, note 2.
14. “Harry and Lucy” was first published in Maria Edgeworth’s Early Lessons (1801), with sequels in 1813 and 1815. A lesson about thermometers occurs in the second part of “Harry and Lucy.”
15. As indicated in letters 3759 and 3768, Pen would draw a different portrait of Napoleon III for Arabella.
17. In January the Tuscan government had “informed Lord Normanby [the British minister] that no Tuscan subjects must be permitted to attend séances, and soon afterwards Monsignor Ferdinando Minucci, Archbishop of Florence—backed up it seems by Counsellor Giovanni Bologna, the Minister of Ecclesiastical Affairs—required that séances themselves be discontinued immediately. In conveying these instructions to [Major] Gregorie, Normanby even intimated that Home’s life could be in danger if they were not observed” (Waddington, p. 340).
18. Antonia Grigor’evna Orsini (née Orlov, b. 1816), illegitimate daughter of Count Grigory Fedorovich Orlov (1790–1853), major-general in the Russian army, was the third wife of Gioacchino Maria Innocente Orsini, Conte di Rivalta ed Orbassano (see Waddington, p. 337). Contessa Orsini is listed at “Casa Stiozzi, via Valfonda” (Florence) in the Brownings’ second joint address book (AB-4).
19. Anthony French (d. 1876, aged 74), a partner in the banking firm of Plowden and French in Florence (see letter 3451, note 3).
20. Anthony French (d. 1831), of Prospect Hill, Galway.
21. On 30 July 1829 French was married to Catherine Amelia Josephine (d. 1894), eldest daughter of the composer Joseph Mazzinghi (1765–1844) and his second wife, Catherine (née Hodges).
23. Cf. Chaucer, The Canterbury Tales, Prologue, line 69.
24. Cf. Aurora Leigh, V, 1131–32.
26. According to Richard Monckton Milnes, the dinner, given jointly by himself and Lady Monson, “was not as pleasant as it ought to have been” (see SD1916).
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