4017. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 24, 95–99.
Florence–
23d July– [1857] [1]
My beloved Arabel, I hesitated whether to write to my dearest Henrietta or to you– But one does as well as another– I like to think of you as there, together. I have your letter, darling Arabel, to answer & thank you for. It was such a comfort to have it, & with it, not such bad news on the whole, of Henrietta & yourself—such decidedly good news, too, of the sweet children. Now, Arabel, I shall disapprove of you & begin to scold again at my crossest if you dont stay where you are quietly … Certainly my worst thoughts of your London house will be justified, if it begins already to cry for you & drag you back from what you want, fresh air & tranquility. Do you know Robert’s idea? That your wisest plan would now be to let it at once. (I think the same. Said aside.) I sigh deeply to think of poor Storm. He wants to find you & to keep you together all of you, just as I supposed. If I were you, after the necessary residence at the seaside, I would join to take for a few months some house near Taunton where you could receive Storm, & where he would have access to Henrietta. I would take this house for a few months—and if our brothers could once catch a liking to that neighbourhood, which is one of the cheapest & prettiest in England, they might hold to it as to a sort of pied-a-terre from whence to make excursions as they pleased; avoiding, so, that family disrupture & loss of domestic advantage, which you must see, Arabel, is so full of risk to them .. so undesireable from every motive. If you would agree to this, you open the door to Storm’s remaining in England. If not, why should he stay, when not one of you will remain with him?
Well—you wont let your London house—I see that plainly. Still, you should try to use your suggestions with dearest Henry & the rest (tell Henry so) that they should’nt abandon Storm– Nothing prevents their making excursions now & then to the end of the world– They need not be tied. But let them not throw in his face when he comes, poor fellow, a determination of not staying with him when they are at home. I feel this way very strongly—very—and you must all forgive me, if I use too much liberty in saying it. Oh, I know you set me down as detestable & a teazer. At any rate, there’s the suggestion about the neighbourhood of Taunton– You say you mean to meet Storm in some country-house– Now would’nt it be wise that it should be taken near Henrietta? Think–
Dearest Arabel, it pleases me to think of you all driving in that pretty carriage through the Devonshire lanes– It will do you great good be sure—in fact it is a necessity for you, whether you are aware of it or not; dear, dear. I almost wonder, as you had half fixed on Sidmouth, you did not keep to your scheme of transplantation—but of course you had good reasons. Do the children bathe? I remember Henrietta had those attacks of giddiness once before, .. & they ended .. as I hope these will end. Such a gigantic boy could scarcely be nursed with impunity– It does not surprise me that he should be so handsome. The children are very forward, .. yes, indeed– I only hope Henrietta does not overwork herself in pulling & pushing them on .. on—since that is neither good for her nor for them. Mrs Jameson told me last night it was the general impression in England that I overworked Penini, but she sees it is not so. Well she may say so. He can get all his lessons through with me (all but his music, that is.) in an hour & a half– The multiplication table is not of them– Oh—how Altham would triumph over him in the matter of arithmetic. Sometimes he calls thirteen (when he meets the figure accidentally) thirty one– Think of that, Altham. But its very pretty to hear him read—French, Italian, German, English .. all the foreign languages very well, as to pronunciation. Of course, as to Italian, he is like an Italian child– (The Italians who mean to praise him, wonder at his fluency in … English!) But French, & even German he pronounces very well. I mean to take Grimm’s stories into the country, & get him on. He knows & can say all the changes on the German three auxiliary verbs, & has a good many words at his fingers ends– The German was more uphill work than the French—but now he is working into it & growing proud of it– As to the music, really we are pleased with reason– Since I wrote last to you he went with Isa Blagden to spend the day at the Tassinari’s villa. Alice Tassinari (a year older than Peni) was bidden to play on the piano– She played a few notes, & left off through shyness– On which, some one asked Peni to play—and to Isa’s surprise, she says, though he had no music-book, he sate down with the utmost unconcern and played a ‘Hungarian gallop’ from memory– In fact the child is as vain as possible on the subject of his music, & too delighted when he has an opportunity of showing off– You would be surprised at the spirit with which he plays, too. Mr Del Bene attributes to him “un talento straordinario,” & with reason, Robert thinks. Yes, Robert is quite satisfied that he should have begun to have lessons. It is now only the beginning of the fourth month since he began, & he plays things from Bellini, [2] Donizetti, airs, duets &c. The difficulty is that he learns by heart too fast, & then neglects looking at the notes, .. which makes Robert storm at him sometimes, poor child– He is very well .. fat & rosy, in spite of the intense heat, .. which forces me to sit in my under petticoat & short white bedgown– I cant dress till six—it has been impossible. Peni has a cold bath every morning; & every evening he goes out to drive for two hours either with me or with Isa, often with both together,—and this is excellent for him as it prevents his walking this weather which is too exhausting. He never keeps still in the house for a moment, & that’s walking-exercise enough. And tell Altham, that he sits on the coachbox & drives .. yes, really drives, & has a real long whip .. & is immensely stared at, at the Cascine, by people who of course think us mad for permitting it. But the coachman sits by, you know .. & the horses (a pair of horses) are very quiet—and if you were to see the effect of Peni’s long curls (which curl stiffer than ever in the heat) as he sits seriously in ecstatic dignity, & drives!–
Its a great comfort to me, Arabel, to have a carriage everyday, I assure you, (with my Peni on the coach box too!) and I never was so well off in this respect, since I was a woman.
Still we cant bear it any more. We open all the windows & all the doors at night,—and we shut all the windows & the window shutters in the day .. but the heat remains insufferable– Also I want a little strengthening, though much better in myself .. my soul, I mean—and Robert who leaned to going to the sea (which is hot & expensive) has been good & kind as usual & agreed (just to please me,) to go instead to our old Bagni di Lucca where you must direct to us, though we have not fixed on our day of departure. Miss Stisted has taken us a house there, [3] at the Villa .. a line of Village houses, .. a delightful house she says, .. two sittingrooms, four best bedrooms, two servants rooms, linen & a piano, for eleven pounds the whole three months– There’s an entrance (not a stair) on a garden with a fountain & golden fish—and Peni has already a great scheme, tell Altham, of taking all the fish out of the river [4] (without hurting them) and putting them for company to the golden fish of the fountain. Poor little Pen is enchanted at the idea of going to the Bagni di Lucca (a paradisaic memory with him) & he told me seriously yesterday that he “never felt so happy before in all his life”– Oh Arabel. If I had you there! Tell Henry that if he will come, there’s a bedroom ready—& he would only have the expense of the journey. He might take a run & run back to meet Storm, if he could think that worth while, which perhaps it is’nt. As for you .. I am content dearest, to wait for you .. or even to miss you this year .. if it should come to that .. “I see as from a tower the end of all.” [5] And Robert says I must not be selfish—no. Only I keep my arms open wide, remember.
As to disturbances in Italy, & danger, financial or otherwise, never fear, Arabel. We could’nt help smiling at your enquiry– Poor dear Jessie– You mis-judge her—it is not notoriety which she desires– But that unscrupulous man Mazzini has drawn her by his mesmeric eyes into the vortex. It has pained & pains me much. Only, the Piedmontese government will not crush a poor girl, an English girl– Still, it is all sad, both for her sake & for poor Italy’s. [6]
Write dearest—& tell me of yourself (mind) & of dearest
<…> [7]
Peni eats even too much fruit. Henrietta wd stare. He comes to ask me “Mama, may I have a pear?” “Of course, darling.” Ferdinando following, “But he has already eaten eight.” Think of Altham doing such things! How I love you–
Publication: EBB-AB, II, 310–313.
Manuscript: Gordon E. Moulton-Barrett.
1. Year provided by EBB’s reference to the “Piedmontese government” and Jessie White (see note 6 below).
2. Vincenzo Bellini (1801–35), Italian composer of operas, is best known for Norma (1831).
3. Casa Betti in Alla Villa, one of the three villages that constitute Bagni di Lucca.
4. The Lima, which flows into the Serchio just west of Bagni di Lucca.
5. Shelley, The Cenci (1819), II, 2, 147.
6. An unsuccessful uprising, led by Mazzini’s supporters, took place at Genoa on 29 June 1857. Jessie White was arrested and ordered to leave the country by the Piedmontese authorities at Genoa on 3 July. Determined to stay and demanding a trial, she was taken to the prison of St. Andrea on 5 July and remained incarcerated there for four months. Owing to a lack of sufficient evidence, Miss White was released in November 1857. (See her letter to the editor, entitled “Despotic Treatment of an English Subject,” in Reynolds’s Newspaper of 6 December 1857 (p. 7).
7. The remainder of the letter, probably written on the flap of the envelope, is missing except for the following which was cross-written on the first page.
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