4464. EBB to Isa Blagden
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 26, 245–247.
Villa Alberti
Siena–
Wednesday. [10 August 1859] [1]
My ever dearest, kindest Isa, I cant let another day go without writing just a word to you to say that I am alive enough to love you. In fact, dear, I am a great deal better—no longer ground to dust with cough,—able to sleep at nights, & preparing today to venture on a little minced chicken .. which I have resisted all the advances of hitherto. This proves my own opinion of myself, at least. I am extremely weak—reeling when I ought to walk, & glad of an arm to steer by. But the attack is over—the blister to the side, tell Dr Grisonowsky, conquered the uneasiness there, & did me general good, I think. Now I have only to keep still & quiet & do nothing useful or the contrary if possible, & not speak, & not vex myself more than is necessary on politics. I had a letter from Jessie Mario, dated Bologna, the other day, & feel a little uneasy at what she may be about there– It was a letter not written in very good taste—blowing the trumpet against all Napoleonists– Most absurd for the rest. Cavour had promised L N Tuscany for his cousin as the price of his intervention in Italy [2] —& prince Napoleon, finding on his arrival here that it “wouldn’t do,” the peace was made in a huff–
Absurd, certainly.
Robert advises me not to answer—& it may be as well, perhaps–
I dreamed lately that I followed a mystic woman down a long suite of palatial rooms– She was in white, with a white mask—on her head the likeness of a crown. I knew she was Italy—but I could’nt see through the mask– All through my illness, political dreams have repeated themselves, in inscrutable articles of peace & eternal provisional governments– Walking on the mountains of the moon hand in hand with a Dream more beautiful than them all, then falling suddenly on the hard earth-ground on one’s head, no wonder that one should suffer. Oh, Isa, the tears are even now in my eyes to think of it!
And yet I have hope, & the more I consider, the more I hope.
There will be no intervention to interfere with us in Tuscany—& there is something better behind, which we none of us see yet.
We read today of the Florence elections– [3] May God bless my Florence–
Dearest Isa, dont fancy that you will get off with a day & night here– No indeed– Also, I would rather you waited till I could talk & go out & enjoy you properly—and just now I am a mere rag of a Ba hung on a chair to be out of the way–
Robert is so very kind as to hear Pen’s lessons .. which keeps me easy about the child–
Heat we have had & have—but there’s a great quantity of air .. such blowings as you boast of at your villa—& I like this good open air, & the quiet. I have seen nobody yet–
Give my regards to Dr Grisanowsky & tell him how I am passing into convalescence—never forgetting, say, his kindness– Is he not generous & good, Isa? I have really been touched by it all.
Now, I will write no more– Is it true that Pilade has had the meazles? If so, he must not come till the time of the possibility of infection shall have passed—for Peni never had the complaint. When Wilson does come, let her bring me a few new books from Brecker– Is Mlle de Presles out yet? (Montepin’s) continuation of Marcel. [4]
Anything by Mdme Leonie d’Aunet .. except the Mariage de Province which I have read. [5] Wilson must bring also Peni’s collars, left in a drawer.
Or, Isa, do you think Mdme Brecker could send me books by railroad without much expense? Then I can return these.
Sometimes when you drive down into Florence, get me a number of the Corriere Mercantile [6] —not regularly .. but now & then .. just to see how the wind blows. Keep account, & we will settle afterwards– Once a week, let us say–
Dearest Isa, I miss you, I love you. How perfect you are to me always–
Robert’s true love, with Pen’s– And I may send my love to Miss Field, may I not?
Your’s in tender affection
Ba
Do write—& tell me everything–
Yes, England will do a little dabbling about constitutions & the like where there’s nothing to lose or risk .. & why does Mrs Trollope say “God bless them” for it? [7] I never will forgive England the most damnable part she has taken on Italian affairs—never. The pitiful cry of “invasion” is the continuation of that hound’s cry—observe. [8] Must we live and bear?
I mean to write a word to Sophia Cottrell when I am stronger–
Publication: B-IB, pp. 224–226.
Manuscript: Fitzwilliam Museum.
1. Dated by EBB’s mention of the Florentine elections, which occurred on 7 August 1859, a Sunday.
2. One of the terms of the agreement made the year before at Plombières between Cavour and Napoleon III (see letter 4472, note 8).
3. The Tuscan provisional government held parliamentary elections on 7 August 1859. The following telegraphic dispatch appeared in The Morning Chronicle for 9 August: “The elections for the National Assembly have taken place; great dignity was observed by the people, public order has not been in the least disturbed and perfect harmony prevailed through all classes” (p. 5).
4. Le Lieutenant Marcel (Brussels, 1859) and Blanche de Presles (Brussels, 1859) by Xavier de Montépin (1823–1902).
5. Un Mariage en province (1857) by Léonie d’Aunet (1820–79). Her most recent work was a collection of three novellas, Étiennette, Silvère – Le Secret (1859).
6. A Genoa newspaper.
7. In The Athenæum for 30 July 1859, Theodosia Trollope wrote: “No one seemed satisfied with the proposed peace, nor by any means sure of its terms. Better still, England (God bless her for it!) declared that she would only agree to the entire independence of Italy” (no. 1657, p. 147).
8. i.e., the groundless fear of a French invasion.
___________________
