5740. RB to Isa Blagden
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 32, 73–75.
19. Warwick Crescent,
Upper Westbourne Terrace, W.
19 April, ’66.
Kept on Apr. 22.
Dearest Isa,
It happened unaccountably that, for once, I forgot the day [1] —remembered it next day only, & then too late for writing—& yesterday I felt unwell and incapable, and so waited. I spent a fortnight in Paris, & did not find my father well,—far from it: however I left him better, and hear good news of him,—so trust that the fine weather will help him to regain strength: he has a peculiar complaint, an internal varicose vein,—very painful & debilitating at his age,—and from the want of his usual exercise his digestion suffers. I went no where,—did not make a single call in Paris lest I might be induced to spend an evening away. I shall tell you a sad piece of news. Yesterday Mrs Carlyle lunched with Mrs Forster,—was in particularly good spirits: she afterward went to drive in the Park: [2] when there, she stopped the carriage to put down her little dog for a run,—a dog bequeathed her by poor Mrs Chapman a few weeks ago: no sooner out in the road, than the little thing’s foot was run over by a carriage-wheel,—the creature screamed, & Mrs Carlyle got out and took it in again,—no doubt, much startled by the accident: the coachman continued his drive round the Park,—repeated it,—then began to wonder at getting no order, looked round, and could not see his mistress: he stopped, and asked a passerby to look in at the door,—the person, a lady, cried “Drive to St George’s Hospital!”– [3] He did so,—they took her out dead. [4] Forster was sent for,—and was at immense pains to get the body removed,—the authorities insisting that an inquest must be held: he put forth all his admirable energy and managed the matter—not before midnight. (I little guessed as I passed the Hospital at eleven, returning from Ld Belper’s [5] close by, who was lying there.) Carlyle is away in Scotland,—one hardly can venture to fancy the shock to him,—at the end of his pleasant little triumph there. [6] Forster, who had a deep affection for her, is in a paroxysm of grief,—yet, strange to see, I have had no message to prevent my dining with him to-day, as was arranged: he may want me for some purpose, to be sure: otherwise, what a “dinner!”– I met her the last time on the occasion of Carlyle’s completing his seventieth year—not very long ago. [7]
Well,—what shall I say next? I saw Fanny Haworth, looking particularly well. I thought I had written that Lytton’s complaint was much exaggerated—he was nervous, I suppose, and his friends made the most of a bad thing: but Julian Fane assured me there was nothing alarming in the matter,—and as I hear nothing new, I conclude there is nothing worse. I never hear from him,—which is wholly my fault: people say he and his wife are the happiest of pairs,—which is another good thing. Julian Fane is gone to Paris,—First Secretary there. [8] No,—I never saw that number of “All the Year Round”—I will certainly do so, and read your verses. [9] I am glad you have got your money from Chapman, [10] —he is of an unpardonable carelessness—to say the least of it: I am far from satisfied with his ways in my own case,—only I experience no worse than those vile scatter-brain ways I am as tired of as you can possibly be. Do you give him your new novel? [11] I am rejoiced that it is off your hands: and also, that you are settled: you had not mentioned the house by Porta Romana– [12] I remember the place,—pretty well. Poor Jarves finds that there is no being simple with impunity; how can he have more than the most superficial notion of the authentication of pictures? He may know what he likes,—but how know that it is by Raffaelle and Leonardo and all the other nonsensical names that used to dance thro’ his brain? I must write to the Storys– I don’t hear from them: they will be at London before the season ends, I engage, and obey their law of gravitation. Pen is quite well and sends his best love: I shall enclose you a photograph taken a fortnight ago [13] —if it will go in the letter. Good bye, dearest friend—you are never out of my thoughts for a day—how should you be? God bless you, ever– Affectionately yours
Robert Browning.
Publication: DI, pp. 234–237.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library.
1. i.e., the 19th of the month (see letter 5089, note 1).
2. Hyde Park.
3. Located at Hyde Park Corner.
4. Jane Welsh Carlyle (1801–66) died on 21 April in the circumstances described by RB. As no inquest was held nor autopsy performed, the exact cause of her death is unknown. It is generally understood that she died of a stroke.
5. Listed in RB’s address book of this period (AB-5) at 88 Eaton Square.
6. In November 1865, Carlyle was elected rector of the University of Edinburgh by the students. He delivered his inaugural address there on 2 April 1866 to great acclaim. At the time of his wife’s death, he was at his sister Jane’s in Dumfries, planning to take a train home on Monday.
7. At the Forsters’ on 4 December 1865, celebrating Carlyle’s 70th birthday (see SD2801).
8. Julian Fane was appointed Secretary of the British Embassy at Paris in December 1865 and took up his post in the first week of April 1866 (see The Morning Post, 4 April 1866, p. 6).
9. Isa’s unsigned poem “Gibson’s Studio” appeared in the issue of 10 March 1866, pp. 205–206.
10. If the money was for The Cost of a Secret, she had not received it yet (see letter 5728, note 12).
11. Nora and Archibald Lee (1867), published the following February by Chapman and Hall.
12. Villa Isetta, Alla Due Strade, Porta Romana, Florence.
13. As indicated in letter 5755, one of the four photographs of Pen taken recently in Paris at the studio of C.L. Leblanc; they are reproduced facing p. 176.
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