4278. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 25, 285–290.
[Rome]
[25 November 1858] [1]
The first letter I write with my new pen .. (for Robert has given me a new one, my beloved Arabel, silver gilt in the same way, & with a stick which I had from the same little tortoise-shell box, you remember) shall be to you, darling—and this first letter is the first written from Rome. I owe a letter to dearest Henrietta & doubted whether to write it or not—but London is nearer than Bryngwyn, & it is best that the news of our first arrival should go through you to Wales—& besides you are alone. I always think that.
We arrived here yesterday after a delightful journey of seven days, only two of them with rain, & no cold, thank God, anywhere. The extraordinary prematurity of the winter which buried all Italy in snow, & which for some days threw us off all expectation of being able to leave Florence this year (.. I had given it up quite, at one moment ..) was arrested as if by a miracle, & after a deluge of rain the sun came as only in our Italy it can come, gracious, glorious, making the heavens large & the hearts of men & women large too– So the day was fixed for last thursday & we had to go– Both of us felt regret in leaving Florence I think– I, most, I decidedly—& little Pen fell into melancholy spirits, & gravely observed when everything was fixed .. “I must say it’s the only stupid thing I ever did know you & papa to do.” That was his opinion– We came away notwithstanding, leaving poor Wilson in tears, & I not keeping the same very well out of my eyes– Why, I wonder?–
Well—it was a delightful journey. I told you that we were to have the Eckleys carriage & the carriage horses (belonging to the man from whom they bought it),—they travelling by their German barouche & their own horses– We travelled from thirty to forty miles a day, stopping for two hours at noon,—the scenery exquisite the whole way—the carriage very easy, & with all appliances of cushions– I seldom felt uncomfortably tired by these arrangements, & went to bed directly after we came in for the night & had dined, .. so that there was no over-talking. As to the Eckleys, I really cant tell you what they have been & are .. which is a pity, because I do want you to know it, for the sake of my gratitude & your knowledge of human nature. Such a woman & such a man are however exceptions among men & women– I myself did not before I knew them, believe that such things & such people could be. I told you of her a little—& of him, I think, that his love for her moved & raised him as God’s love should move us all– Literally, what she loves he loves .. with a sort of child’s devotion—a desire to give away everything out of his pockets to prove what his feeling is—with tears in his eyes & a trembling in his voice—well, it is strange. His wife having fallen in love with me, as I told you .. exaggerated me with a blind passion in all sorts of ways, .. he lays his head under our feet & begs us to walk over him– Not because she tells him to do it, observe, but because she feels so herself– It is strange. They did their uttermost, of course, to persuade us to be brought to Rome without paying a sou—but as we were imperative on this head, the next thing was to push things into our hands at every turn—mine especially, I being more easy to deal with. As an instance, .. she brought in her bag a beautiful, I dare say most expensive pair of fur cuffs, to force upon my hands the moment she had an opportunity of saying “Your hands are cold.” Heaps of things in the same way. And when at last, I said seriously, “now, Sophie, I want you to be different in this” .. she made it as if I wanted her to be different & not love me so much– No, I cant make you understand– And there is a delicacy with it all, which makes you feel it deeper– Sophie has kept her family for weeks in an hotel in Florence, waiting to see whether we went to Rome or not, because if we did’nt go to Rome they would’nt: in fact they preferred staying in Florence– Now they have taken a splendid apartment here [2] for which they pay forty pounds a month, for six months certain– Robert happened to mention that we might only stay four, on which Mr Eckley said quietly that in that case he would throw up his rooms & not mind paying the difference– Only rich people could do such things—but what rich people would? I seriously told him yesterday that he was “mad with goodness & generosity.” Also I told his wife that in Rome I should have to increase our establishment by three black slaves, in order to make amends for the want of her attentions on the road. They have both been here this morning, & in the course of conversation, he said .. “You know, Mrs Browning, the carriage will be with you everyday to take you out to drive” .. just as if he said, “the postoffice is round the corner.” I did not take it quite so, though.
We had incidents on our journey– The horses, spirited horses not used to long journeys, rebelled the second day, & one of them dragged the other into a ditch, the carriage just escaping. Mr Eckley rushed back from the other carriage which was in front, & opened the door– The coachman had jumped down & Annunziata who sate on the coachbox by him, was dragging wildly at the reins & shrieking at the top of her voice. After a time, when all was right, Sophie wanted me to change carriages with her, which of course I steadily refused, though Peni helped her rather. “Why,” said I, “Peni are you frightened?” “No, Mama, not frightened! but if I must tell the truth, I would as soon ride a wild lion as get into that carriage again.” “Then you must not put your friends into it,” said I– And we got in & went on better– But the next morning the same thing happened for the second time. It was on the descent of a mountain too, the precipitous sweep on one side, & the horses turned & plunged. Robert opened the door next him, but the horses were there kicking, & he had to shut it, while Peni & Annunziata (who had tumbled herself down from the coachbox in a miraculously quick time) got the other door opened, & we were all out in a moment– If the carriage had gone over, with us in it, we should have been lost—but even the empty carriage did’nt—the horses were quieted, & led down to the neighbouring town, while we walked– I was very much frightened, I confess, this time—trembling all over: & from that moment it was arranged that the Eckleys should take Annunciata to their carriage & place their courier at the side of our coachman whom we distrusted a little, to avoid also the necessity of leaving the horses for the purpose of arranging the drag &c– After which change we had no more trouble. I distrust the coachman much.
Another adventure was .. the quarrel of the drivers of the oxen-teams who came to take the two carriages up a mountain. They began to fight, & one of them pulled out a knife & prepared to stab– Robert rushed in between them & was thrown down– Peni who saw it all from the window of the carriage began to shriek in an agony of fear .. “Oh, papa, papa!—come away papa!– Oh, that naughty man is killing papa—”—and I, catching a glance, I did not shriek, but did the next best & fainted, or all but fainted– It really was frightful.
And this was the last of our adventures– Only we might have had another. For we had the satisfaction of hearing at Civita Castellana [3] that a carriage containing a gentleman & his wife with her maid, was stopped by banditti the day before on the same road & robbed—. So that there was some sensation for us,—without the experience, happily.
On arriving in Rome yesterday, we went to the hotel, [4] not to decide too precipitately on the list of apartments. The dearness is excessive, & we think ourselves most happy in finding our old rooms disengaged, [5] the landlady enchanted to get us & swearing to us that for the sake of having Penini with her she diminished ten scudi of the rent, .. so that we pay fifty instead of the sixty she asked—(last time it was forty!) fifty scudi, about eleven pounds, the month. The rooms rather small, & up high .. a third story .. but the stairs are easy, for stairs, & the higher you are in Rome the more safe. Also, the situation is one of the most healthy, bathed in sunshine .. (could’nt bear a fire this morning) and there is absolute quiet & silence,—yet in the midst of the civilization of Rome, I have ......
What I was going to say remains a doubt, or a “grand peutetre,” [6] —for in the midst, Robert comes in with Mr Story. Poor Mr Story—he was very kind,—very affectionate rather—& I felt glad to see him. Robert went to see Mr Page– The new wife [7] said he was ill in bed—but as soon as he heard of Robert’s coming, he got up & dressed & came to throw himself into Robert’s arms.
Now I begin to write again after dinner, & my letter goes tomorrow instead of today: we dine late. Dearest Arabel, how I wish for you! On the journey I wore your gown, & flattered my vanity by taking myself for Arabel. That made me wish for you ten times more– All today I have had all the windows open, two in this room & two in the next, .. & no fire. Now if you were here, sitting in that chair, .. how good it would be for you … and for me!
But there has been dreadful weather in Italy for some ten days or more, there’s no denying: & I had fires even in my bedroom of necessity then in Florence, and I hear it was bitterly cold here too at that time. In these southern countries there are transitions which are trying if one does not take care of oneself.
The spirits made signs several times to Sophie & me on the journey—and the day before we left Florence Mr Jarves called on me. He told me as he entered (finding me alone) that he had been very tired, felt very indolent & disinclined to walk out, but that the spirits had insisted on his coming– “‘Go, go,’ had been repeated—so he came.” “And I am going away tomorrow morning” I returned. He had not had an idea of it. (We determined all of a sudden on our journey)– “Well,” I added, “then perhaps they will help us to write as they are so kind as to send you to see me.” Mr Jarves does not generally write, but he sate down with me, & we wrote directly .. & some curious things, .. to substantiate which he will write to America. Arabel, I want you (will you for me?) to buy a book written by an American, called “Foregleams of immortality.” [8] I see it advertised in the Athenæum for two shillings & sixpence. It was sent to me from America [9] & I am very much pleased with it: it represents my views on many points. Some Unitarian society or committee seems to have invited persons of any Christian opinions to give their opinions on the soul & the future state—& this writer who is not a unitarian gives his in response to the liberals call .. I want you to read the book & to get Mr Stratten to read it. I dont agree with everything in it, but with the general views I fully do.
Sophia Cottrell is not yet confined—& at the end of this month it will be a year. She may well be anxious, poor thing. I shall write to Henrietta very soon. May God bless all of you. Oh how far you seem off Darling Arabel, write to me, write often, often. Say how you are with detail, & take care of your dear self, and dont overwork yourself, dear dearest, if you love me at all. Ah, if you had but come with me– We found Ferdinando here: he brought the luggage by sea, & had a storm & narrowly escaped a concussion with another vessel.
Your own Ba.
I must write the address largely here that you may know it–
Bocca di Leone
Roma
Peni’s & Robert’s true love. And mine to Minny.
Address: Angleterre viâ France / Miss Moulton Barrett / 7. Delamere Terrace / Harrow Road / London.
Publication: EBB-AB, II, 377–381.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. Date provided by EBB’s remark in the ninth paragraph, “my letter goes tomorrow,” and by the postmark of 26 November 1858.
2. In the Palazzo Sarazani at 57 Porta Pinciana.
3. North of Rome, the final stopping place on their journey. According to Murray’s A Handbook for Travellers in Central Italy (1857), “with the exception of its Etruscan antiquities, there is little in the town to detain the traveller” (part I, p. 272).
4. At the corner of Via Bocca di Leone and Via Condotti, the Hôtel de l’Angleterre is described in Murray’s A Handbook for Travellers in Central Italy (1856) as “a large and comfortable hotel, well conducted in every respect, in a good situation, with a very good table-d’hôte, and excellent accommodation for families and bachelors” (part II, p. vi).
5. At 43 Via Bocca di Leone, where the Brownings stayed from November 1853 to May 1854.
6. “Great perhaps.” Cf. “Je m’en vais chercher un grand peut-être” (“I go to seek a great perhaps”). Attributed to François Rabelais on his death-bed.
7. Sophia Candace Page (see letter 4156, note 6).
8. Foregleams of Immortality (1859) by Edmund Hamilton Sears (1810–76), Unitarian minister, was first published in Boston as Athanasia: or, Foregleams of Immortality (1858) by the American Unitarian Association. The advertisement EBB mentions appeared in The Athenæum of 6 November 1858 (no. 1619, p. 594). The English edition was issued by “Allman & Son, 42, Holborn-hill.”
9. By Sarah Blake Shaw, as indicated in EBB’s letter to her of 16 February [1859] (ms at Harvard).
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