5951. RB to Isa Blagden
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 32, 239–241.
Au Croisic,
Loire Inférieure, France.
Aug: 19. ’67
Dearest Isa,
Here we all are, just as last year: the weather is delightful, the sea air delicious, of course,—there can hardly be anything better in summer heats than this little promontory with abundance of Atlantic all round. We arrived on the 1st Miss Smith followed about a week ago. I swam, this morning before breakfast, for half an hour and over without touching ground or even turning on my back, and came out not a bit more tired than when I went in: nothing agrees with me better. This house is the most delightful old place I ever wholly occupied:—therefore,—I wish you were here, Isa.
Tell me something,—(mind, this,—and all, except the plainly otherwise intended,—is, according to our compact, private:) the day before I left London, I met T. Trollope in the street—I was delighted to be able to give him the Aurist’s [1] address, which I had sent you: he had heard of the man as a quack—but will reconsider the matter. I was hurried, but said a few words about my pleasure at seeing him, displeasure at seeing no more of him, and .. not seeing his wife,—for politeness sake: he smiled and said nothing: I thought him looking out of sorts and worn,—but attributed it to the journey. A few minutes after, I met at the “Athenæum” a common friend who began “Have you heard this about T.?”—seemed surprised that I had not,—then said there had been a great quarrel, revelation of the past misfortunes of which T. had been ignorant altogether, and a separation.” He said, “pray don’t quote me, however”—and mentioned a house where I am intimate where they would tell me all about it. As I was leaving the club, I met one of the members of that family, & asked him,—he said it was all true,—he had heard it from Anthony T.—I think, in Paris, Now, per regolarmi, [2] I should wish to know the facts—sparing you any comment on them of the many which occur. If things have gone so—if the wife really did enlighten poor T. for the first time on the paternity of the child [3] & so on,—I hardly ever knew so deplorable a case. I take it, that peoples’ tongues, never very tight, were absolutely loosened by Theo’s death,—as if it didn’t matter holding them any longer. It cannot be that you don’t know the facts.
When I left London, I heard that Lytton had been very ill—erysipelas had followed the operation: however he was better,—I wrote begging him,—as he always had the pen of a ready writer, to give me a word of his news here, nothing however has come yet. It is a great pity for him, in the way of his profession, that he can’t be at his post,—as his Chef [4] is away, and the Chargé d’Affaires, which he would be, must be the Second Secretary [5] in the absence of him, the First,—and so till the Chef’s return, as it is etiquette that the Chef only should introduce his substitute—in person—which can’t be in this case. I told you he had new volumes [6] coming out, which I shall be interested to see. Unluckily, thro’ some blunder, no Athenæum nor literary journal has reached me this fortnight, and I know nothing of the doings of our penmen. I should like to know something about Arnold’s new volume: he told me he had reprinted therein “Enceladus on Etna” [7] —“with a pretty note saying that it was done thro’ my request.” I am really flattered at that—I like the man as much as his poems. Miss Ingelow sent me her poems just before I came away,—the new ones,—with a too modest note to the effect that her first volume had been so overpraised that she was ashamed of it, but this second seeming to be generally found fault with, she should give it me—I got the note & not the book. Did you see Emerson’s new poems? [8] with very fine & true things,—but not in any new key,—the old voice & tone. We are all well,—my sister bathes &c. We have not yet been to Guerande, but go to-morrow, all of us. The two boys went yesterday to see some races,—not to my taste. I am glad you understand the Bagni this time, [9] —get the cool side of the state of things. Do you make excursions? “The Trelawneys” are problematical to me,—he has so many wives and daughters,—the last he married, I fancied had been the Baronet’s wife, whose divorce he caused: [10] he was living last month in his house at Brompton, [11] —I called there. I met him at dinner at the Sartoris’s. He lives with a niece,—I suppose she is that, but won’t swear,—a light-haired girl. [12] He told me he had been three times drowned—& resuscitated,—after being hours in the water. I am going to write to Kirkup, of whose illness I had not heard. Write to this address next time, of course.
Ever yours affectionately
RB.
I happen to have a photograph [13] with me—& send it, wisely, to save you from a shock the next time you see me.—I think it pretty good. Love of course from Pen & Sarianna always.
Publication: DI, pp. 276–279.
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Alexander Turnbull (see letter 5944, note 1).
2. “So that I know”; or “to find my bearings.”
3. Beatrice (“Bice”) Trollope.
4. Augustus Berkeley Paget (1823–96) served as envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary to Portugal from June 1866 to September 1867. He had also been Lytton’s “chef” at Copenhagen (see letter 5246, note 5).
5. William P.W. Freeman (1834–84), appointed 2nd Secretary at Lisbon on 25 October 1865 (see The Foreign Office List, January 1872, p. 10).
7. Sic, for Empedocles; see letter 5947, note 23.
9. In letter 4236 EBB told Fanny Haworth that Isa “hates the place” because of her unpleasant previous stay there.
10. Augusta Trelawny (née Harvey, 1807–75), former wife of Harry Dent Goring (1801–59), baronet, married Trelawny in 1841 as his 3rd wife.
11. 7 Pelham Crescent, Brompton, as listed in RB’s address book of this period (AB-5).
12. Emma Taylor (1840–1926), daughter of William Taylor, of Brompton, and his wife, Emma.
13. Presumably one of two photographs taken by John Watkins and Charles Watkins in June 1867, which are reproduced facing p. 273.
___________________
