666. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett & Mary Hunter
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 4, 91–96.
[Torquay]
Thursday. [27 September 1838] [1]
My beloved Arabel do pray write, & dont wait for me to do it. I have not paid “five shillings for letters” one day since I went away from you, and all last week you kept your words to throw to Resolute [2] I suppose without any compassion for other poor dogs at a greater distance. Henry’s Austrian officer never waited so impatiently under the German lady’s window as I do for a letter from home [3] .. and if you could but imagine to yourself how it is with me here, with the disconsolate kind of feeling which the consciousness of distance from you all fastens upon me, you wd not let three days pass without writing. And now dearest Brozie & dearest Georgie are going away—& tomorrow—I scarcely dare to think of it! These partings are dyings. But I shd not be ungrateful for the longer than hoped for pleasure they have kept near us here—and you will feel glad in having them back with you again, & I do indeed too dearly love you, not to be glad in any possible gladness of yours!——
They will if they speak the truth give you a very hopeful account of my health—notwithstanding the leeches & blister I have been visited by within the last few days, & other threatenings of the same kind. Dr Barry said to me yesterday unasked—“I think that your chest is certainly better”—and the expectoration (tho’ I could not rely too much on anything which has proved itself to be so fluctuating) continues diminished down to very little indeed. The pulse is much lower—I am not stronger. And as I am still taking digitalis (it was a mistake to say in my letter to Papa that I had left it off) the only wonder is that I am not very very much weaker than is actually the case. As far as I can judge, Dr Chambers’s medecines have been continued with but little variation—only the digitalis is given more continuously—& the blister &c applied without any particular call for it. Now mind!—you are not to fancy that I am in the least worse if you hear any more of blisters. Dr Barry made up his mind from the first I believe that he wd give me plenty of them—& the better I declare myself, the firmer becomes his resolve. He provokes me sometimes into a fever notwithstanding his digitalis. And yet it may be ungrateful & foolish of me—for really he does take most incessant pains, & everybody says with a corresponding ability, to do me good—and doing good does not always mean in this world, giving pleasure. You see I had made up a hope of my own, encouraged by Dr C’s permission, to manage here without medical visits, & to trust simply to God’s sun & air as the means of accomplishing whatever mercy He intended for me. So that I had the less ready patience for certain persecutions—& for not being allowed to write or read or eat or drink or go out or stay in, or put on my stockings, without a certificate from Dr Barry. And really it has come to this.
Now fancy—on the occasion of my writing case being accidentally visible—“Have you been writing today Miss Barrett”. “No”– “Did you write yesterday?” “Yes”. “You will be so good as not to do so any more”.!!—— And again— “You have observed my directions & been idle lately Miss Barrett?” “Yes”. “And within these last three weeks you have never written any poetry?” The remembrance of Mr T K Hervey kept me silent. [4] “Well then! I may as well take my leave! I have told you the consequence. You must do as you please; but if you please to do this, neither I nor anyone else can do anything for you”. And then there are flannel waistcoats up to the throat—& next the skin—& most of the most disagreeable things you can think of besides .. provided that you happen to be particularly imaginative while you think!——
Thank you my own dearest Arabel for writing that Papa might consent to Bro’s staying. He did consent—but plainly against his own wish—and as dear Bro’s individual opinion was that he would do better in returning to London, I had not the bravery to urge him to stay—indeed I should have had no happiness in keeping him when he evidently would please dearest Papa better by going. And so much, so very much has been granted to me that I felt myself wrong in writing for another sacrifice to my bare convenience, & Papa felt it too even while ready to oblige me. At the same time it is a worse pain to part with Brozie now, from there being a possibility of keeping him. I almost wish there had been a downright no!—but this is ungrateful of me!——
They will tell you that Henrietta, Crowe & I go next week to Beacon Terrace. [5] I wish you wd write every morning, so that you may seem to be there too before your turn comes. From Bummy I heard this morning—and she will not be able to join us before the second or third week in October—so that we & Dr Barry of course!!! will be there many days by ourselves. Now do remember every one of you. There is room!! Dear Jane means to keep us here until Thursday; but we certainly shall not wait longer before leaving this hospitable house—on account of the nearness of winter. I had a fourth letter from Miss Mitford two days ago, begging for a word of answer which has gone at last! and one day ago Mr Hunter wrote to Bro praying for the same. So you will understand how abominably I have behaved lately even to those whom I most care for—& will give up your very foolish scheme of expecting letter for letter. The truth is, that for the most part—the halves of my days have been wearying ones thro’ getting up—& the other halves, with going out—and then lately this dreary digitalis makes one far more inclined to cry than to write. Yesterday I began to inhale something––what, Dr Barry wont [6] tell me for I asked him twice & was answered each time by an evasion. Nothing to strengthen me!–
Tell us everything about everybody—us meaning Henrietta & me. I never show your letters & so you may open your heart! My beloved Arabel, mine rejoices whenever I think of our darling Mary’s being with you, because I am sure you must be cheerful in her cheerfulness of which I am sure besides! Tell me more about her– Tell me whether you make her practice, as to music—and whether the drawing goes on—& whether you have taken her to the coliseum .. That reminds me of Westminster Abbey & Mr Boyd. Thank you for interposing your shadow between him & the Sunbeams! I would not have had such a letter written for the whole world! [7] —and although abundantly grateful for being shone upon so benignantly, the more silent the gratitude, the better! Miss Mitford says “not merely the truest review but the ablest”—which is not true. She is very much out of spirits, because Martha is going to be married!—to a gardener—& about to remove from her neighbourhood. Nevertheless she has time to think of little kindnesses & to propose sending some seeds cuttings &c to Jane’s garden that I might see the planting!– I shall not see it—but Jane is too pleased at the idea of having them, for me not to respond thankfully & acceptingly to the kind proposal.
Dearest Arabel, I am very glad that you know better & like the Bazelgettes [8] – Dont forget to take Mary to see Mr Stratten’s children when they return. Are the Strattens returned? Tell me. And if they are give my kind regards to Mr & Mrs Stratten when you next speak to either. It is a pleasant placed hope to me that I shall get out beside you in the chapel at Paddington & hear with you what we used to hear so delightedly—with the same words of prayer & gladness upon our lips: It is a pleasant hope—but an earthly one after all. And on such hopes we should lean lightly. The reed will pierce if it flower or not—for if the dew of heaven fall on it or not, its root being in the earth, it is a reed for piercing!——
How blessed it is to look up & know that as God’s sky is over the city & the fields, so is God’s love!– Pray for me my own dear Arabel!– I know you do & will––that I may feel more continually & distinctly the omnipresence of His love—& let us both remember that while you are praying for me, & I for you, we must still pray together!——
Thursday night.
Thank you my own ever dear Arabel for your letter. So I am forced to keep Bro! But Georgie wont be kept––will go tomorrow morning––& indeed I am half angry with him & whole disappointed! it is so very very kind of my beloved Papa to let Brozie stay—& his face is as bright to hear of it (almost) as mine—& that is as bright as can be. His presence is not necessary in the strict sense of that word; perhaps no happiness is; but besides the sorrow it will save me from,—between you & me the “officiating chairman” was only less disagreeable that [sic] the officiating Dr Barry wd have been, who did actually lament his being prevented by an engagement from taking Bro’s place on the day of his absence at Sidmouth!! There was a great fuss about the boat that day. I yielded to Jane’s entreaty to go—but it was so disagreeable,—tho’ less so than it might have been—that Bro’s going away looked more horrible than ever. And they wouldnt let me walk!–
Tell my dearest Minny & your dearest self not to be uneasy about digitalis or anything else––now Bro is going to stay!—without a joke do believe me to be better in essential things. As to your fancy about the pulse & pain in my side I do assure you that the perseverance has not been caused by an increase in either—but by a resolution to prevent that certain excitability which has you know from the first hung about the system. Therefore is it determined that I shd take digitalis & not write poetry. I might have deceived you if I had pleased by being silent—& in return for all this openness, you are bound [9] to believe my assurance that neither for digitalis (except occasionally) nor for leeches nor for blister has there been a necessity—but an advisability in Dr B’s opinion, in order to subdue the complaint––not any new or worse development of it. He has fixed upon the very spot upon the left side of the chest which Dr Chambers did, as the locality of the complaint—which appears as if he knew something. Everybody says he knows everything. Tell dear Minny that as to missing my medecine he wd as soon miss a day in coming here as let me do it. I have no chance. He not only asks “Have you taken your medecines today?” .. & “How often have you taken your medecine today?”—but he counts the bottles to see that they are regularly emptied. So that I shd be forced into a double iniquity—into upsetting them .. & telling him a story. Tell dear Minny the truth—that I did mean & do wish to write to her! but it is so late & I have told you everything & she will forgive me this time!
Oh my darling Mary how I delight to hear of you & from you! Write yourself & make Bella write! Her observation about postages & purses, I do not reply to—not having a pistol by me. It is an insult. Of course the little dove which came on purpose for you, is yours!—— Always let me hear of the doves—& do take care of my ‘untidy’ room! Dont love Bella more than a mile more than me!—— Your father wrote a very angry kind letter to Bro to enquire if we were all alive—& I have written to him—& Georgie will see him tomorrow—& we are likely to see him very soon– At least I imagine that we are likely to do so!—— God bless you darling Mary!—— Make Bella laugh hard all day!——
Your ever affectionate
Ba.
Will Georgie really go today (Friday morng) I am sitting up in bed wondering & wishing perhaps vainly about it.
Send two chickens & the smallest tin case to Trippy—& one chicken to poor old Mrs Nuttall. [10] The other three & larger case of Devonshire cream is for you. I believe some of you like it (does not Stormie?) with apple tart—& I dont insist upon its commixture with your coffee!——
We shall not go, I think, to Beacon Terrace (called Beacon from Beacon Hill––the wooded one above it) until Thursday. I have heard at last from Bummy who cant come until the second or third week in Ocber & wont, in my opinion, until the very end of the month.
My own dearest Bella, I never forget your turn!—& you need not wait for Mr Kenyon you know, with escorts all round you. Do you think (because I some times dream it) that Papa will bring you himself? But then he is coming very soon—I dare say immediately on his return from the north. Almost his last words to me were a promise (unasked for) that he wd see me sooner than I expected—& in his letters since he has mentioned this journey to the north as something that must necessarily precede his coming here.
Do give Mr Boyd my love—& tell him that I will write soon to him.
Your own ever ever attached Ba.
<Is it not very wrong of Daisy? I am so …> [11]
Tell me of Mr Patch. Sette & Joc [12] why dont you write to me? And then there is dearest Stormie & Henry––why dont you write to me?– I think of you every one––one by one––all yr faces & kindnesses. I love you more than ever & pray God to bless you!——
The poor Russells——
Say how you are my dearest Arabel—& all of you. How are Minny’s legs?——
The blister was kept on 12 hours– It was covered with silver paper—& is not very sore, tho’ quite sufficiently so.
Pray beg Henry not to go to Boulogne or Botany bay while Papa is absent. Open the parcel containing the Amaranth. [13] It is for Papa.
Address, on integral page: Miss Arabel Barrett. / 50 Wimpole Street / London.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. Dated by the impending move to Beacon Terrace.
2. One of the dogs belonging to EBB’s brothers Henry and Charles John; EBB later described him as “an Alpine mastiff.”
3. We cannot explain this reference, beyond suggesting that it must deal with an incident that occurred during Henry Moulton-Barrett’s tour of Germany and Switzerland.
5. No. 3 Beacon Terrace had been leased from 1 October at £180 per annum (see SD943).
6. Underscored three times.
7. An extensive discussion of EBB’s works to date (An Essay on Mind, Prometheus Bound, and The Seraphim) appeared in five numbers of The Sunbeam (1 September 1838, p. 243; 8 September, pp. 254–255; 22 September, pp. 269–270; 6 October, p. 287; and 13 October, pp. 293–295; for the full text, see pp. 387–400). According to Mrs. Orme, the reviewer was a Mr. Frank, “a person of no celebrity” (see SD945). From the context, it seems that Boyd was ruffled by something in Frank’s remarks, and had contemplated writing to the magazine, but was dissuaded by Arabella.
8. The family of Louis Bazalgette, living at 1 Pembroke Terrace, St. John’s Wood.
9. Underscored three times.
10. The mother of George Ricketts Nuttall, the doctor who had attended EBB in London prior to Dr. Chambers. She had been very friendly with EBB’s paternal grandmother, the Nuttalls also having a Jamaican background.
11. Slightly more than one line scored over in an unidentified hand.
12. Octavius Moulton-Barrett. Mr. Patch is identified in SD993 as a tutor to Septimus and Octavius.
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