4485. EBB to Julia Martin
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 26, 288–292.
Villa Alberti. Siena.
[9] Sep. [1859] [1]
My dearest Mrs Martin, as you talk of palpitations & the newspapers, and then tell me or imply that you are confined for light and air on the Italian question, to The Times, I am moved with sympathy & compassion for you, and anxious not to lose a post in answering your letter. — My dear dear friends, I beseech you to believe nothing which you have read, are reading or are likely to read in the Times newspaper <unless it contradicts all that went before–> [2] The criminal conduct of that paper from first to last, and the immense amount of injury it has occasioned in the world, make me feel that the hanging of the Smethursts [3] and Ellen Rutters [4] would be irredeemable cruelty<, while these writers are protected by the Law.> [5] A mistaken line of politics is one thing, & of course compatible with the purest & highest intelligence: but the determinate line of lying, (backwards & forwards & crosswise) taken up by this newspaper, there can be no excuse for—and I do suggest to you whether as honest thinkers interested in the progress of the world, you should continue to take in this paper. Certainly I could not–
Of course you must feel perplexed. The paper takes up different sets of falsities, quite different & contradictory, & treats them as facts, & writes ‘leaders’ on them, as if they were facts. The reader, at last, falls into a state of confusion & sees nothing clearly except that somehow or other, for something that he has done or has’nt done, has intended or has’nt intended, Louis Napoleon is a rascal & we ought to hate him & his——.
Well—leave the Times:—though from the Times & the like base human movements in England & Germany resulted, more or less directly, that peace of Villafranca which threw us all here into so deep an anguish that I for one, have scarcely recovered from it even to this day.
Let me tell you– We were living in a glow of triumph & gratitude—& for me, it seemed to me as if I walked among the angels of a new-created world– All faces at Florence shone with one thought and one love– You can scarcely realize to yourself what it was at that time. Friends were more than friends, and strangers were friends. The rapture of the Italians—their gratitude to the French—the simple joy with which the French troops understood (down to the privates) that they had come to deliver their brothers and to go away with empty hands; all these things which have been calumniated & denied, but which I & my husband saw with our eyes, were wonderfully beautiful. Scarcely ever in my life was I so happy. I was happy, not only for Italy, but for the world—because I thought that this great deed would beat under its feet all enmities, & lift up England itself (at last) above its selfish and base policy– Then, on a sudden, came the peace– It was as if a thunderbolt fell. For one day, every picture & bust of the Emperor vanished—& the men who would have died for him before that sun, half articulated a curse on his head. But the next day we were no longer mad—and as the days past, we took up hope again, & the more thoughtful among our politicians began to understand the situation. There was however a painful change– Before, difference of opinion was unknown—and there was no sort of anxiety. (A doubt of the result of the war never crossing any one’s mind–) Napoleon in the thickest of the fire, with one epaulette shot off, [6] was a symbol intelligible to the whole population. But when he disappeared from the field and entered the region of spirits and diplomats .. when he walked under the earth instead of on the surface, .. though he walked with equal loyalty & uprightness .. then people were sanguine or fearful according to their temperament .. and the English & Austrian newspapers attributing the worst motives & designs, troubled the thoughts of many– Still, both the masses (with their blind noble faith) and the leaders with their intelligence, held fast their hopes—& the consequence has been the magnificent spectacle which this nation now offers to Europe, & which for dignity, calm & unanimous determination may seek in vain for its parallel in history. Now we are very happy again, full of hope & faith—.
Still as you ask about me, dearest Mrs Martin,—the shock of the peace, & the whirlpool of discussion & difference into which I fell afterward as a matter of course, the agitation of mind & exhaustion by over-talking & under-sleeping, all this occurring when my body was rendered more than usually susceptible by the extraordinary heat, brought on a serious attack on the chest, and I have been very ill & am only now convalescent. Never have I been so ill in Italy, & if it had happened in any other place or season, I should have sunk, I think– As it was, I only cried ‘Wolf’ once more. Nobody will believe me you know (certainly not Mr Martin!) till I am fairly swallowed & digested. At present, ‘L’amour et la fluxion de poitrine’ [7] have not, between them, produced this happy effect. A Prussian physician in Florence, [8] (he & I sympathized by mutually abusing our respective countries) took me up & blistered me till I could breathe, & sent me to Siena when only half alive .. so ill, that at the hotel where we stayed till Robert could select a villa, they prophecied I should survive three days & no more– But the air & the quiet were too much for wolf & prophet,—and by God’s will & blessing I am well again if still weak rather– We have been here five weeks & I have begun to drive out in the lanes & explore the pretty country. Asses’ milk and the Italian newspapers .. not to name the supply of books from Florence .. keep me improving & satisfied. It began with palpitations, & a sort of anguish more like angina pectoris than anything I have heard described, .. ending in one of my attacks of quite the old pattern–
But really I am ashamed to say so much of myself– The only consequence will be that we shall probably go to Rome again for the winter, as Florence is considered too cold. There will be disturbances, that way, in all probability—but we are bold as to such things– The pope is hard to manage even for the Emperor. It is hard to cut up a feather bed into sandwiches, with the finest Damascus blade—but the end will be attained somehow. I wish I could see clearly about Venetia– There are intelligent & thoughtful Italians, who are hopeful even for Venetia—& certainly the Emperor of Austria’s offer to Tuscany (not made to the Assembly, as the Times said, but murmured about by certain agents) implies a consciousness on his part of holding Venetia .. with a broken wrist at least. [9]
As to the Duchies, never for a moment did I believe in armed intervention. Napoleon distinctly with his own lips promised our delegates, after the peace & before he left Italy, that he wd neither do it nor permit it. And afterwards, in Paris, again & again. [10] He accepted the Austrian proposition under the condition simply that the Dukes were recalled by the people .. not in defiance of the popular will. He has been loyal throughout both to Austria & to Italy & to his own original programme which did not contemplate dispossessing sovereigns [11] but freeing peoples.
Italy for the Italians—and so it will be. For prince Napoleon, when he was in Florence he might have remained there & delighted everybody. I know even, that a person high in office, felt the way towards a proposal of the kind, & that he answered in a manner considered too ‘tranchant,’ [12] “No, no—that would suit neither the Emperor nor England,—et pour moi je ne le voudrais-pas.” [13] He used every opportunity at that time of advising the fusion—about which people were much less unanimous than they are now–
But calumny never dies—(like me?) Mr Russell, Lord John’s nephew, the quasi minister at Rome, very acute, and liberal too (by the English standard) being on his road to Rome from London last week, proposed paying us a visit & we had him here two days (in a valuable spare room!–) He told me that .. “Napoleon had been too fin [14] for the English government– He had induced them to acknowledge the Tuscan vote” (observe that fact, dearest friends) “induced them to acknowledge the Tuscan vote,”—and now here was his game. He had forbidden Piedmont to accept the fusion, & therefore Piedmont must refuse– The consequence of which would be, that there must be another vote in Tuscany, which would favor prince Napoleon, and that we, having accepted the first vote, must accept the second, .. the Emperor throwing up his hands & crying, [“]Who would have thought it?”
We told him that he & the English government were so far out in their conclusions, that Piedmont, instead of refusing, would accept conditionally—but he sighed, “hoped it might be so,” in the way in which preposterous opinions are civilly put away.
Scarcely was he gone, when the conditional acceptance was known. [15]
How much more I could tell you– But one cant write all. The first battle in the north of Italy freed Italy potentially from north to south. Our political life here in the centre, is a proof of this– The conduct of the Italians is admirable, but last year they could not have assumed this attitude– They were a bound people. And even now, if the Emperor removed his hand from Austria, we should have the foreign intervention & no hope.
We are ready & willing to fight, observe. The Times may take back its words. But to oppose the whole Austrian empire with our unorganized, however heroic, forces, is impossible– We might die, indeed.
Little Penini, whom Robert in his kindness has taken off my hands till I am stronger, does his lessons, & is considered of remarkable prowess in music– Then he rides a poney just the colour of his curls, & gallops through the English-looking lanes we have here, with an unfortunate contadino running at his heels to take care of him– Wilson is here now. We made her bring her child from Florence, to get some of the good we get from this good fresh air. Do you know Siena? The country is pretty, though not romantic like Lucca—but the climate is drier & more open. Do write & tell me where you go—leave England by all means.
Read La foi des Traitès: it is from the hand of Louis Napoleon– So that I was prepared for the amnesty & for what followed. [16]
Do be prudent, in order not to be unwell either of you. Ah yes, yes– I should like too, to see dear Mr Martin fencing again with my husband– May it be before long. May God bless both of you always. I have pretty good letters from home. Home– What’s home?–
Your ever affectionate & grateful Ba
Address: Angleterre / Mrs Martin / Colwall / Malvern / Worcestershire.
Publication: LEBB, II, 329–333 (in part).
Manuscript: Wellesley College.
1. Year provided by postmark of 10 September 1859. Day suggested by Wilson’s presence in Siena (see the third to last paragraph). In letter 4486 RB writes that she and “her tribe go away to-morrow.”
2. Passage in angle brackets interpolated as an afterthought.
3. The previous month, Thomas Smethurst (1805–73), a surgeon living in the London suburb of Richmond, was tried for the murder by poison of his wife Isabella (née Bankes, d. 1859, aged 42), whom he had married bigamously in December 1858. The prosecution alleged that Smethurst was motivated by the income the deceased brought to the marriage. In spite of irregularities in the medical evidence, he was convicted and sentenced to death on 19 August, but a short time before his execution the government granted a “respite” and later, on 15 November, a free pardon. The Home Secretary, G.C. Lewis, summed up the government’s reasons for setting aside the verdict: “The necessity which I have felt for advising her Majesty to grant a free pardon in this case has not, as it appears to me, arisen from any defect in the constitution or proceedings of our criminal tribunals. It has arisen from the imperfection of medical science, and from the fallibility of judgment, in an obscure malady, even of skilful and experienced medical practitioners” (The Morning Chronicle, 18 November 1859, p. 8). At the end of November 1859, Smethurst was convicted of bigamy and sentenced to one year at hard labor.
4. On 13 August 1859, Ellen Rutter (née Cummins, b. 1826) was tried at Oxford for the murder of her husband, Thomas Rutter (1823–59), a blacksmith, of Dursley, Gloucestershire. Several witnesses testified to the victim’s repeated physical abuse of Mrs. Rutter and also to her admission of cutting her husband’s throat. The jury returned a verdict of guilty, “but they recommended her to mercy, on account of her husband’s cruelty to her” (The Times, 15 August 1859, p. 12). Nevertheless, the presiding judge sentenced her to be hanged for “murder in its most aggravated form” (p. 12). Later that month, Mrs. Rutter’s sentence was commuted to “penal servitude for life” (The Morning Post, 29 August 1859, p. 3).
5. Passage in angle brackets interpolated as an afterthought.
6. Rumored to have happened at the battle of Solferino (see letter 4442, note 4).
7. “Love and pneumonia.”
8. Dr. Gryzanowski (see letter 4445, note 10).
9. The only Austrian offer to Tuscany regarding Venetia that we have traced was the one made through the former Grand Duke’s eldest son (see letter 4481, note 5).
12. “Sharp.”
13. “And for me I would not want it.”
14. “Shrewd,” or “clever.”
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