4295. EBB to Anna Brownell Jameson
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 25, 311–314.
43. Bocca di Leone. Rome.
17– Decr– [1858] [1]
My dearest friend, I cant think how it has happened. Certainly I wrote to you from Paris just before I left it, telling you when we were going & where– [2] I imagine it was among the letters I left to be posted, & possibly it may have slipped from the groove that way. Certainly I wrote it. In Florence we remained only three weeks, & then travelled on by the Perugia road to this Rome with our dear friends the Eckleys, spending seven delightful days en route. They took with them two carriages, & we conveyed one, at our expense of course; the great advantage being (besides their society), an easy carriage, with cushions & springs,—so that I suffered no fatigue to speak of.
But you, dearest Moña Nina, you!-- You have been wondering after me all this while,—in the thoughts spared from the precious Geddie! You have fancied (who knows?) that I could forget or neglect you? No indeed– I never could. Write down in your address-book that Ba’s mood capable of being really indifferent about you, lives no-where. Will you, my dear dear friend?
And now, next to that, let me thank you for these gifts brought by Miss Kindersley—gifts “of introduction,” as in the olden times. Penini is delighted with his namesake’s music [3] —& as for me, I thank you, I thank you. Here is the Hahn Hahn’s autograph, with yours!– And tell me,—the first novel in the book I recognize for Frederika Bremer’s, but what is this “Galathea”– [4] By whom? It is bound up without its title-page– I am glad to have a little German in this bookless Rome, where only Swedenborg has come to me yet—& he through the chinks of Mr Page–
Long before this you are easy about dear Geddie, who is going on well with her baby I understand, after her long perilous anguish– [5] I thank God for you & for her, dearest Monna Nina– I wish now, for myself in particular, that I had news of you, you—better than Miss Kindersley brought me when she spoke of your being tied up in England by an attack of .. rheumatic gout, is it really? Ah, and I had felt so sure that I should have you here so soon—that Mdme de Goethe (who does not like Florence) would expiate that sin in the parenthesis, by coming here instead of there, & bring you, bring you– But no—you stay in England—you stay at Brighton,—which you dont like, & which I dont like for you! (particularly when I am here!) and you may probably stay till March, says Miss Kindersley,—which is too bad!– I mean, too sad–
Prices are enormous in Rome, but we ran to ground directly in our old burrow of the Bocca di Leone,—its only fault being the height (a third story) and the small rooms– The healthiness of the situation is beyond reproach, & the sunshine pours through the windows like a flood, whenever it does not fairly rain. Then there is much comfort in the arrangement, & sufficient comfort in the furnishing—& we were fifteen in our little salon the evening before last, without much squeezing,—Heads were not absolutely knocked together, & there was a margin for crinolines. Mr & Mrs Eckley, Mr & Mrs Cartwright, Mr & Mrs Page, Mr De Vere, Mr Leighton, Hatty Hosmer, Miss Cushman &c– Mrs Page I have taken into kindness because of him, & because she really makes him happy. It appears that everybody has set it down as improper courage of him to marry a third time—but that plainly was his own affair & risk– Nobody was asked to get up a committee of Insurance for the occasion. She is not pretty, nor graceful, nor strikingly intelligent .. as far as I can see: but she is very gentle, very soft, with a low voice & quiet manner, & an adoration which leaves her on her knees before her husband from morning to night. It is, “will you teach me that?” .. “was it so that you taught me?” “will you teach me a little more.” Men like it, you are aware: and he was never used to it before: no wonder it should be a charm. She sits in his studio, that she may feel his shadow on her: lives in his studio, observe. I who have an admiring affection for him, am grateful to the woman who makes him happy.
Gibson has not been here. Dear Hatty has come several times– I went to her studio to see her works– The Puck is more charming in the marble than I should have supposed. The Will o’ the wisp I dont like, & shant when it is put into marble, I feel sure. The head strikes me as too large (I ventured to hint that to Hatty, but she told me Gibson called it “too small” .. after which one could’nt say a word!) and then the stride of the legs over the owl’s back is too inelegant & without the spring necessary to any riding, I fancy– The Zenobia is invisible still—but we went to see the monumental recumbant [sic] statue, [6] & really exquisite it is. I could’nt help kissing Hatty in the church. Never should I have thought that such true inspiration was in her—in the way of pathos– Something between life & death, it is, (is’nt it?) testifying to both in a sublime repose–
Do you know, I cant help feeling sure that the situation where dear Gerardine has her house, is unhealthy– [7] People say so loudly; and with the Tiber so close, how can it be otherwise? I do wish Mr Macpherson would see it so, but it is difficult to see the truth of such things with a great inconvenience between them & our eyes.
The Hogarth club has chosen Robert an honorary member– Or did I tell you that in my last letter?
I felt my soul liberated as I turned my face to the south from Paris,—& yet I had had the pain of parting from my dear Arabel a week before– But here in my Italy I breathe ideal air, .. am lifted, as my Swedenborg would say, to a “higher plane”– The vulgarisms of life into which one was born as a poor human being, are thrown behind one somehow. There may be something of wrong in all this—but it is true intensely of me. I feel a little as a spirit may, newly disembodied .. after Havre. Yet the sea-water & change of air did me good physically there, & I had the satisfaction of fulfilling some necessary duties towards Robert’s family.
Little Pen was so glad to get back to Florence that he hated coming away to Rome: but he has his joys here, never doubt–
Your friends Mr & Miss Sherwood [8] left cards on us the other day, & Robert goes to them on tuesday evening to hear music.
NB. Sophie Eckley came in while I was writing this & prayed me (understanding I was writing to you) to offer you her “affectionate regards.”
Arabel gives me wonderful news of Mdme Braun’s restoration by mesmerism—that she walked a mile to see her (Arabel) & looked perfectly well, & could “sing” with her old clear voice. When she left Brighton in what state was she? tell me. I am in an overjoyed astonishment to hear of this. And she is coming to Rome in February. I wish you were, & sooner! May God bless you– Think of me & love me as your Ba. May I be remembered to your sisters?
Address: Angleterre– / Mrs Jameson / 16. Chatham Place / Brighton.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
3. Perhaps, a piece by Charles Frederick Wiedeman (d. 1782), German-born flautist and composer, who spent most of his career in England.
4. Galathee (Stuttgart and Tübingen, 1836), a novel by Peter Alexander von Ungern-Sternberg (1806–68), who wrote under the name of Alexander von Sternberg. EBB later added to the half-title page: “By Sternberg author of ‘Herr von Mondshein’” (see Reconstruction, A2362). This copy was bound with Countess von Hahn-Hahn’s Die Kinder auf dem Abendberg (Berlin, 1843), which bears the author’s inscription to Mrs Jameson, and Fredrika Bremer’s Streit und Friede (Leipzig, 1841), which is inscribed to “Elizabeth B. Browning, from her affecte friend Anna Jameson. Brighton, Oct. 28, 1858.” All three books sold as lot 418 in Browning Collections (see Reconstruction, A301, A1117, and A2362).
5. Geraldine had evidently fallen ill after the recent birth of her baby. The latter was never strong and later correspondence indicates that it died sometime in late winter or early spring 1859.
7. The Macphersons resided at 192 Via di Ripetta.
8. Thomas Moulden Sherwood (1796–1871), of London, and his daughter, Anna (afterwards Hedley, 1831–93). They are listed in the Brownings’ address book of this period (AB-4) at Casa Dies, which was on Via Gregoriana in Rome.
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