4478. EBB to Sophia Eckley
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 26, 272–274.
Villa Alberti– Siena.
August 30– [1859] [1]
In spite of being satisfactorily better, dearest Sophie, & making progress in strength (the asses ministering unto me .. in cups of milk) I yet remain so languid as to be unwilling & indolent about writing,—I, who am by nature an active correspondent. [2] You will forgive therefore these gaps of silence .. even after all your kind words & wishes about miraculous or impossible services. Thank you!
I have desired especially to speak to you about your book [3] —need I say, dear, what blessings in it I would pull down? Is it to be really published, or printed for your friends?– I would have pressed to see it more at Rome than I did .. but I do habitually shrink a little from the responsibility of giving advice upon mss,—and then, let me confess, my tender solicitude for you & the impression I was under, at that time, of your being peculiarly susceptible to the popguns of society, made me afraid of your being exposed to the real guns––so that under ordinary circumstances I should have been very averse to advising publication– But if you determine on it, you will make up your mind to bear the sort of roughnesses, the pushings & kickings, & various bad smells, which come with a crowd, .. from which no dear Mr Eckley, no dear ‘Fanny’ can save you– No indeed.
For my part I would gladly serve you & the book in some poor manner. But I can do absolutely nothing, you know—and even an introduction from us to Chapman & Hall would have no sort of weight, except as it might lead to the reading of your mss. Booksellers, at least in England, have a wholesome distrust of letters of introduction– Well—it is wise, I think, that you should use your own country in the matter. Tell me if you really mean to publish, or simply to print.
Dear, dear little Do– So he thinks I am a plagiarist from my Peni– Tell him I consider his idea a very great compliment—especially as coming from him. Tell him, too, that Pen sends him his true love and will write in time—but Pen has great engagements just now. After all his lessons (which he does with that poor devoted victim, Robert .. & does well) and after his two hours of music .. (& he is learning a symphony of Beethoven’s ..) [4] he goes out to ride for the evening on a very pretty pony, the colour of his own curls, and trots & gallops to his immense contentment–
And whoever speaks evil of Siena speaks wrong. That it is less cool than your Baths at night & in the evenings & mornings, I dont doubt, & that the scenery is less romantic is obvious– Still, we have plenty of stirring refreshing air, free from damps & mists—and the country, in its sweeps of vintages & purple hills, is beautiful, as it is to be seen from these windows– Then there is the quiet, the shutting out of civilization– That, too, is an advantage,—in my condition at least–
For the future—ah no, you must not calculate on us this winter. We are more than usually uncertain, in the first place, (—you may put Rome out of the question—) & it is possible that after staying till the verge of time at Florence, we may make a rush to Palermo or the coast of Spain, or Leghorn or Pisa simply .. anything is on the cards–
And then I am changed in my mind, Sophie. What I have for the loss of golden time, which I must make up for hereafter,—and everything, in this state of the world, tends to making us earnest & sincere towards high aims. Grief & doubt shook & overwhelmed me, but the receding wave leaves stronger ground. You ask me what I think about Italy– Thank God I think great things about Italy– I think that the Italians have acted magnificently, .. worthily of the admiration of all men .. and that the Emperor Napoleon has been loyal to the cause from first to last—but that there will be disturbances, before all is done, in the south of the peninsula, we must be prepared for—and these would have been equally, had there been no peace at Villafranca.
If I could see my way clear about Venetia, I should be consoled for the peace, let me say, and more than consoled.
You are very, very kind as ever to those who need it—but I am sorry that Miss Massy Dawson needs it so much– [5] No, we are not acquainted with her or with any part of her family except Madame Pantaleone, [6] the wife of one of the ablest men in Italy– I liked her too–
Now I am tired out– Yes, dearest Sophie– I said God bless you. I have often said God bless you .. if you felt it or not. When I said I loved you, I mean it and felt it, .. I was “faithful” [7] .. though the spirits never called me so—who am only
Ba—
Our truest love to dear Mr Eckley & Fanny, & to Do– Does he get on with his music? and does he swim?——
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. Year provided by EBB’s reference to Villafranca.
2. This seemingly innocent remark may be the first indication that EBB’s feelings for Sophia Eckley have changed. The poetess had in fact been an active correspondent since her last letter to Mrs. Eckley, writing four letters to Isa Blagden alone. Moreover, below, EBB makes a point of saying that Rome for the winter is “out of the question,” but in letter 4485, she speaks of Rome as a probability for the winter.
3. The Oldest of the Old World, a travel book that chronicled the Eckleys’ trip to Egypt and the Holy Land. It was published in London by Richard Bentley on 1 May 1860.
4. In subsequent letters EBB refers to Pen’s learning and playing a “sonata of Beethoven,” Piano Sonata No. 4, Opus 7, in E-flat major.
5. Mary Agnes Massy-Dawson (1830–59), eldest daughter of Francis Dennis Massy-Dawson (1803–70) and his wife, Susan Agnes (née St. Clair, 1806–56), died at Pisa on 18 October.
6. Jane Isabella Pantaleoni (née Massy-Dawson, 1832–1904).
7. Underscored six times.
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