4511. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 27, 14–19.
Casa Guidi.
Oct 31– [1859] [1]
My beloved Arabel, I have your letter & thank you for the comfort about your darling self at least– But what is it that makes George so persistently unwell in his head? Why was Harrowgate considered good for him? [2] Has he been working too hard? And in regard to homœopathy, why does he not try another doctor. There are homœopathists & homœopathists, observe. Nothing has done Robert so much good—& now for nearly two years he has taken no other medecine. A determined sceptic too, like Robert! Faith has had nothing to do with it, assuredly. Oh—if it were not for my contradictory drug which I cant do without!– [3] I have a profound disbelief in the power & knowledge of medical men in the general acceptation—yes, even in Prussian liberals, [4] though the most generous & accomplished of their kind otherwise. Such heaps of new drugs & old, as I took when I was ill. Drops here, pills there—& so many bread crumbs in effect, as Robert observed. The medical art is the merest blind guessing, I am certain. Homœopathy is a road broken in the right direction, though one cant always travel by it, when under previous obligations as I am. Tell me of George– Do persuade him against overwork, & get him to travel for a time, & break through the habit of pain, by a complete change of air & association– His profession is not necessary to him now, & he can resume it after a while–
My poor darling Arabel! what a shock to you, the sight of that accident! [5] For the elopement & criminal sequestration, I entirely sympathize with you & applaud you– Really, you seem to have been rich in tragic incidents since your return home. Dearest, dont let one of them presently be your getting unwell with overwork or exposure to the weather. The cold seems to have begun in England, & even here it is what we call “fresco” and the rains are falling. Every morning I wish I was at Rome– We must stay till Robert sees Mr Landor settled in his new rooms, which we cant get at to furnish until the third of November– [6] He does’nt know, poor old man, that we are going, & there will be a dreadful vexation, I fear, when he does– A melancholy old age, you remark. True in the most important sense, for as to an hereafter he is thoroughly sceptical– Mr Kirkup cant get him to believe in a spirit even. As to revelation … it’s a blank—or the pope (whom he wishes hanged) represents Christianity. But he is not unhappy– His health is as good as if he were twenty. He is active & interested in literature– No boy more amused in a novel! (We send him books—) and he writes verses in Latin & English by sheetfulls– An[n]unciata said once she should like to take care of him, he has such an innocent face. And he is innocent in a sort of fashion– In spite of his bursts of rage against people who irritate him, it is rather child’s passion than man’s passion—impulsive– He has never led a dissipated life, never taken wine over much, &, with regard to women, has had numerous flirtations & love-makings, but always in the spiritual & sentimental way. Never but once in his life he told Robert, had he sinned otherwise. I am afraid this is very peculiar among men of his time & stamp– The consequence is, a sort of healthfulness of the senses & of the mind—innocent tastes, as for the society of young children, and for animals,––& a power of enjoying life in quiet & solitude. I trust Wilson will succeed in pleasing him– I do trust so.
You are not to think that I charge her with ingratitude– That is going too far. But perhaps (or at least I have the impression) she may have expected more of us. It has run in my head that what I did for Crowe may run in her’s. [7] Dont repeat this to anyone. I may be wrong perhaps. Robert has done much for her, & is doing much,—for even if Mr Landor died tomorrow or left her by a caprice, the fact would remain of the money advanced to her as a loan, & the new house placed in her hands– She will be in receipt soon of nearly a hundred a year I reckon, [8] if she continues tolerably successful in letting her old apartment, about which she has had hitherto such good luck– Orestes is still in England. Now she has room for him– The difficulty is to get the child here– You are quite wrong if you do not give her credit for good principles & many high qualities– I consider her perfectly reliable– But she is weak & not energetic of mood. There’s a sort of grudge against poor Annunziata, both on her side & Ferdinando’s– One of his charges is that she eats too much– W’s jealousy, as his wife, is quite over, but there’s a quantity of unreasonable contempt in the place of it– The more I know of Annunciata, the better I think of her– She sends nearly all her money to her family, & works for it like three– No men come near the house: she has’nt a male visitor—& certainly she goes out as little as is desireable. Her zeal for work is great– Of her own accord she proposed the other day that to make a saving at Rome we should put out only the washing, & that she wd do the ironing at home, as she did at Siena– She waits at table when any one is here, and I find she has an excellent art of arranging it– We have adopted since our return to Italy this time the continental way of having only the fruit & flowers on the table, and the dishes carved on the side table & handed round. I like it so much better & Robert hates carving– The objection is that one requires servants for it,—but while we dine alone, Ferdinando is sufficient for us. The Storys & Mr Wilde spending a few days in Florence we had to ask them to dinner twice—they had been very attentive to us at Siena. Annunciata arranged the table, & waited—and I assure you the dinner was as nice & even elegant as possible. Ferdinando who cooks well, has so little idea of arrangement, that Robert used to be disgusted at the notion of our asking anyone to dinner– This time, he was satisfied wholly. The piles of fruit were quite picturesque,—& nobody had to wait for anything a moment. We have been forced to take another servant (to attend to Pen’s poney & go out with him sometimes) who comes for the day & has fifteen francs a month. In fact he has long been in the habit of coming to help Ferdinando, (unexpressed in an open way) being a cousin of his, Lazzari,—& it makes little difference in the actual expense, I think, except in the wages. A mirror of honesty, but scarcely presentable, though active & useful. Ferdinando wants us to take him to Rome—on which point nothing is yet decided. Someone we shall have to employ at Rome on account of the poney—and service of all sorts is very dear there– Miss Cushman has the goodness to offer us poney-room in her stable .. which will be very convenient– Robert has bought a beautiful saddle & bridle & whip for Pen, .. just doubling the price of the poney .. which, by the way, is extremely admired here by the learned & unlearned.
All this time I have not answered your question about myself– Dearest, I am well again—& you are wrong in fancying that Robert carries me about. I sometimes escape the stairs by being carried on the queen’s cushion [9] by Robert & Ferdinando, (or Annunziata) because the stairs are not good for me—but even the stairs I generally walk up. Observe– I have been much weaker than I was in this illness at the worst of it, .. though for the real suffering I never, I think, suffered so much. But its past, I thank God—and I do trust in his goodness that I may not have it in quite that form again. Any pain seems better than an iron bar crushing the chest & forbidding the breath– I think of going into a convent at Rome where I need’nt talk– The Trappists would suit me exactly. I hear of Dr Grisanowsky saying that if I stay here & get excited with talking, I shall be sure to be ill again—I believe from experience this is true– So true
<…> [10]
that straight of Villafranca <… ob>ligations to Austria in return for certain concessions, which leave him “dolentissimo” [11] as he said to our delegates the other day—and ‘dolentissimi’ we all are in proportion. As long as he keeps off an armed intervention however, as he promises, the country here is safe. [12] I am uneasy about the pope—lest he should yield to the pressure, & grant reforms, which now it is too late for. In the Romagna at least. [13] I understand that Garibaldi is so sanguine that he even overlooks the patent dangers. Well! I am sanguine too– But I cant overlook the dangers. England, at last, takes the right view of the Italian part of the situation—only I doubt much whether Italy may not lose by her persistency in certain respects … I mean, as to the terms of joining the Congress. [14] Austria never will accept a Congress on such terms which imply the carrying of the question against her. Now if the Congress is held without England, Italy loses a vote .. and is just or much the worse. England is always thinking of her own dignity—cant be disinterested
<…>
Still, I trust few—and if a Congress could be prevented altogether, by England’s keeping out of it I should not object to her keeping out. What I fear is, that a congress will be held (with or without England) & that her absence will simply leave Italy with one defence the less. Russia is nearly reliable: Prussia, not at all so– Very anxious I am. People wonder at us for going to Rome on account of possible disturbances– If a revolution in a good sense would happen there, it would be welcome to me. I understand however that few English will be of the same mind, & that apartments will be at low prices therefore. We shall make Odo Russell receive our Italian papers for us—and Galignanis penetrate even at Rome. I generally read through three newspapers a day. This is not a newspaper story, but absolutely true– The emperor informed the King of Piedmont of the peace at Villafranca when they were both at dinner– [15] The King in rage & grief, swore like a trooper—(his majesty can swear—) & added that if the Emperor in behalf of the interests of France found himself unable to carry on the war, “he and his troops would do it alone.” Napoleon bore it all in patience & calm—“Caro mio,” [16] said he, laying his hand on the King’s shoulder, “if you act so you will only put France & myself in the wrong”– The King told it himself to a friend of the Marchesa Laiatico (whose son & daughter the Duke & Duchess of Casigliano we know here) and, telling the story, he had the tears in his eyes– “I am sorry,” said he “I spoke so. I am afraid it was ungrateful.”– The simplicity & straightforwardness of the king, joined to an heroic energy & generosity, make him the man he is to Italy, at once a symbol and an idol. I am anxious I have said—but still more I am hopeful. The state of the country is beautiful,—& the representations of the Times with regard to men & finances, are infamously untrue. We know something of one of the correspondents– [17] The Italians represented to Mr Trollope the other day that if he received this man at his house, they must renounce it, with every regret. For our own parts we have given orders never to admit him here–
Pen shall write to you– The truth is that he has so much on his hands here in the way of amusement, after lessons, writing letters grows burdensome. As to drawing, that phase has passed. In music he makes excellent progress—and he is now studying [‘]‘Emily’s” capo d’opera, [18] … Schul[h]off’s Carnival de Venise [19] .. do you remember? .. which she liked to play because of its difficulty. —Poor Emily– Did I ever tell you that Peni broke her ring on his finger at Rome last winter? You know it was a tortoise-shell ring– He was very sad about it, though Edith Story gave him a gold one (the pure Etruscan gold) to replace it, .. inscribed “Roma”– Do you ever hear from Emily now?– She did not answer my letter– I have not seen any one of her standing, to please me nearly as well since I lost sight of her–
Ah my poor dear little Altham!—and dearest Henrietta besides!– I feel a tingling pain all through me to think of it– A child of that age going to any sort of school. [20] Well—it may be best; but I thank God to be spared such a trial of faith. When I saw Peni’s little bed fastened by a string to our bedpost, & heard from Annunciata that he did it just before he went asleep in order to be “tied tight to mama,” I could’nt help thinking what it would be to let him go out of the house from me. But she has two other comforters .. which makes a great difference. As for ourselves, in time we shall have a master—so as to save our leisure.
Here I must end– Isa Blagden has come in & will stay to dine. Dearest Minny must be glad indeed to have you back– Give her my love– And write to me, dear darling. And love me half as much as I love you– If you can, that is– Direct to me at Florence as usual, though we shall probably be gone—we ought–
Ever in tender love from Robert & Peni.
Your own Ba.
I cant read it over.
Publication: EBB-AB, II, 427–432.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. Year provided by EBB’s reference to Landor’s “new rooms” (see letter 4505, note 7).
2. Harrogate, Yorkshire, a spa town about 16 miles north of Leeds.
3. Morphine.
4. A reference to Ernst Gryzanowski.
5. We have been unable to trace the “accident” or the “elopement & criminal sequestration.”
7. We have been unable to clarify this remark concerning Elizabeth Treherne (née Crow, 1817–86), EBB’s former lady’s maid.
8. In letter 4533 EBB writes that Wilson was receiving “thirty pounds a year” to take care of Landor and “four pounds ten” a month for his rent. As indicated in letter 4502, Wilson would take and furnish “a ground-floor and first floor apartment,” Landor occupying the upper and Wilson, “with her children & maid,” the lower.
9. “A seat (for a girl) made by the crossed hands of two persons” (OED).
10. A portion of the sheet, containing three or four lines, has been cut away, affecting text here and below.
11. “Very sorry.”
15. On 14 July 1859 at Milan.
16. “My dear.”
17. We take this to be a reference to Antonio Carlo Gallenga (1810–95). In letter 4595 EBB writes of him: “He uses his eyes, hands, experience, to shuffle the cards & cheat the fortunes of his country, at the invitation of a foreign newspaper, the Times.”
18. “Masterpiece.” Emily refers to Emilie von Eisendecker (1838–1903), whom the Brownings met at Le Havre the year before; see letter 4245, note 7.
19. Pen’s copy of “Le carnaval de Venise, arrangé pour piano par Jules Schulhoff, op. 22” is at ABL. Julius Schulhoff (1825–98), Prague-born pianist and composer; his arrangement of “Carnival of Venice” was one of the better-known piano variations of an air popularised by Paganini in the early nineteenth century.
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