5276. RB to Isa Blagden
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 30, 293–295.
Ste Marie, Pornic.
Sept. 19. ’63.
Dearest Isa,
I got your first letter the day after my own was sent: you meant all for the best & kindest. I was much interested in hearing about Pelago [1] —knowing it well: I remember the room in the Inn, to the left of the door as you enter,—and how I took luncheon there sixteen years ago. Oh, those days—I think of little else: but never mind. You don’t tell me if you went to Leghorn, met Hatty and the rest: I suppose you are settled till next year. Then, I expect to see you: Cottrell has probably told you of his arrangements, [2] and I shall go to Florence at the very end. Isa, may I ask you one favour? Will you, whenever those dreadful preliminaries, the provisional removement &c [3] —when they are proceeded with,—will you do,—all you can,—suggest every regard to decency and proper feeling to the persons concerned? I have a horror of that man of the graveyard, and needless publicity and exposure– I rely on you, dearest friend of ours, to at least lend us your influence when the time shall come: a word then may be invaluable. If there is any show made, or gratification of strangers’ curiosity, far better that I had left the turf untouched. These things occur through sheer thoughtlessness—carelessness—not anything worse, but the effect is irreparable. I won’t think any more of it—now, at least.
We have nearly done with this place—shall probably stay ten days longer—till the end of the month, indeed, and then—not “home” (God knows!) but to Paris & London. The weather, though not so exceptionally fine as last year, has yet been very favorable: my father walks and enjoys himself. Pen was joined, the day after I wrote, by Willy Bracken—and the two have kept up the ball of amusement pretty fairly till now: they swim capitally, both of them—keeping in the water for twenty minutes and more. I find bathing agree[s] with me also—and this morning enjoyed it for the fortieth time. In the evenings, Mrs Bracken, my sister & I walk on the low cliffs and let the sea-wind blow us about. They stay a little longer than we do,—then go to London,—Willy being about to enter the London University School: [4] he is a nice, clever, handsome boy, and will do well. Poor dear F. T. [5] and his “mediumship”! I can quite fancy how it all comes about, and how he grows tractable under it. His verses are meant for fun. Those of mine, by the way, which you inquire about, shall be printed with my new things. [6] The criticisms on poetry in the “Ath:” are beneath contempt: I read one on Sea-songs the other day as full of stupidity as an egg is of meat, [7] —going on the notion that as sailors drive their trade and get their bread by means of the sea, they must like it and know more of its poetry than other men—just as omnibus-drivers or cab men are the true expositors of the mystery of London: Sailors, who call the depths of ocean “Davy Jones’ Locker,”—the stormy petrel, “Mother Carey’s Chickens”,—an early rainbow “Fly-away Jack,” & so on. Poetry in a Sailor’s life, there is—but the beginning of it is the contempt he has for its dangers, the longing to get out of its reach and be with “Poll” &c. I want you to read a novel by Paul Féval now publishing in the “Opinion Nationale”, and sure to be reprinted—“Annette Laïs” [8] —so far, it seems delicious: I did not think anything so delicate and witty had been in the man. It is the second of a series. I must see the first story—if I don’t forget!
For I do forget many things, and feel tired, and think of going to London with “ribrezzo” [9] —I could live here, so far as myself am concerned, for many a year to come. But the years go—two are gone, you see,—and the end of me, if I can so manage it, shall be spent, I know where: meanwhile, pazienza! [10]
Tell me more gossip about people: you never mention the Kinneys, Mrs Baker & her Sister & Mother, [11] the Tassinaris. Poor Powers—I don’t remember Florence, but pity them heartily. [12] The Fauveaus, too—do they thrive and expect as of old? Lytton was in Paris the other day—has been in London, I believe, on a hurried visit—I don’t know. Any news of dear Kate Field? You will have A. Trollope, who has been very kind in carrying something for me, I find—but they all are full of kindness. Good night, and goodbye, dearest Isa! Pen has been asleep long ago—I write latish—but he loves you, I know: so do all here—and how does, your ever affectionate
R Browning.
Publication: DI, pp. 175–178.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library.
1. A village on the road to Vallombrosa; see letter 2686.
2. Concerning EBB’s monument.
3. In order to lay the monument’s foundation.
4. The register for University College School, London (1831–91), lists William E. Bracken in attendance from 1863 to 1866.
5. Frederick Tennyson (1807–98). Charles Tennyson notes in his biography Alfred Tennyson (1949) that by the summer of 1862 Frederick was “an enthusiastic believer in spiritualism” (p. 341).
6. Dramatis Personæ. Perhaps, Miss Blagden had asked RB about his poem on Daniel Dunglas Home, “Mesmerism.”
7. RB refers to a review of Sea Songs and Ballads (1863) in The Athenæum of 29 August (no. 1870, pp. 263–264). The “Poll” mentioned below occurs in the first song, “Poor Jack” (1789), by Charles Dibdin (bap. 1745–1814), actor and composer.
8. Annette Laïs by Paul Féval (1816–87) was issued in book form the following year. A brief notice in The Saturday Review of 1 October 1864 described the novel as “a touching story intended to show the power of true love. The heroine, an actress, marries a young nobleman contrary to the wishes of his parents. A quarrel ensues, but Annette Laïs, who has managed by some stratagem to introduce herself amongst the relatives of her husband as a servant or companion, so thoroughly disarms them by her gentleness and her sterling qualities that all difficulties are removed, and reconciliation is effected” (pp. 433–434). The “first story” in the series is La Drame de la jeunesse (1861).
9. “Disgust.”
10. “Patience.”
11. Anne Crossman (née Oakes, b. 1789) and her two daughters, Georgina Baker (née Crossman) and Anne Crossman (see letter 3711, note 4).
12. Florence Powers (1846–63) was the third daughter and fifth child of Hiram Powers and his wife, Elizabeth (née Gibson). She died in Florence on 30 July.
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