695. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 4, 154–160.
[Torquay]
[Postmark: 4 June 1839]
Ever dearest Arabel,
This is your own due sheet—and yet I have been on the very point of transferring it to Papa. His letter called aloud for an answer—indeed I thought it would be answered, & even began, upon impulse, a letter in answer to it. But that wd have been right down cheating—I know it would[.] I have your sheet upon sheet of letters, & you will be sure to expect one from me by Wednesday’s post—and therefore to you this shall go—& my beloved Papa must believe how thankfully & tenderly all his kindnesses were read & that I mean to write to him very soon indeed.
Bummy has just interrupted me by bringing in a “water colour drawing, left as a gift by Mr Weale to me” [1] But no, no Bummy! you can t take me in quite so adroitly. It is a copy of a drawing of Mr Weale’s, & very well executed by Brozie—excellently well considering that he never tried water-colours before, & I shall praise him for it up to the tops of the hills. In the meantime I am to tell you all about our late visitors. You may remember that I had the privilege of Mrs W’s acquaintance only once before & for a very few minutes—& having forgotten the little I saw of her, I cant agree or disagree with Bro’s opinion that she looks much older, or with Henrietta’s that she is much quieter. I saw her last week only upon two days & but for a short time on either day,—& my impressions at either time (but for the bygones) wd have been light enough to rub out with India rubber. She really seemed to me quite a commonplace very neatly dressed—talking quietly, & properly & amiably about the pretty hills & warm weather & pleasant walks. I shd never have thought that she cd do anything worse than forget to mend her husband’s stockings from looking too long out of the window. She embraced Henrietta—but I escaped with what Ibbit calls a “shake hands”, by virtue of my very solemn determination that it shd not be otherwise. We talked however together most amicably—& when Bro threw himself down at the company side of my bed in the evening, to confide to me in a torrent of a logical & liberal philosophy that nobody with a disagreeable voice cd have any good in them, that Mrs W had the most disagreeable voice he ever heard, saying that there could be no good in her––I was able to find justice enough to take the part of the lady’s voice against the gentleman’s prejudices[.] Mr Boyd couldn’t have been more outrageous now could he? And as to the voice, though it might as Bro declares it did, have spoken in fainter tones before me, by favour of my invalidness, I declare that I never heard one of the harsh shrill tones in it deprecated by Bro’s ears––tuned to their peculiar nicety by the “most sweet voices” [2] of the Torquay dames. By the way, Agnes Walrond went away weeping like a Naiad [3] —& Henrietta has heard from Monti Garden (who is very uneasy I am sorry to say, about me! & begs Henrietta to write to her instantly) that she & Henrietta Garden her cousin, [4] sobbed themselves to sleep at Honiton at the thought of having left Torquay behind them. “Hydraulic exercises” Monti calls them—& very difficult to abstain from, when the Gardens dont come back before October! Well! but “come weal, come woe” [5] I must not diverge from the Weales to another subject, whatever may be its pathos, until I have done with them. And really Mr Weale is worth talking of—& much & deeply as I always long for you my dear dear, Arabel, I did so in an especial manner while he was here in looking over the beautiful drawings which he brought & executed in the course of his visit. So rapidly executed too! And such character, & imagination, & painter’s fire in them all! Not merely clever drawings! but beautiful & suggestive. I was delighted with them—& even was moved to wonder before the artist why he did not embrace the art as a profession instead of giving half a heart to medecine. He seemed to shrink from the uncertainty of success. But a divided heart never will do in anything; and Mr Weale’s faculty in art is too like genius to admit of the possibility of his not using it– And then his medical prospects are anything but bright I shd think. He has the practice only in a naval hospital, & indeed, is not permitted by the rules, to extend it. And he is eccentric & wild, “half mad” Bro declares, & I shd rather trust to his high imaginations in painting, than to his sober judgments in physic. Yet I must not despise his medical judgment upon me, nor fail to tell you of it. I saw him twice, for an hour & an hour & a half at a time. When I went from the room the first day, he said to Bummy & Henrietta as they told me afterwards, that my cough was like a spinal cough—& on the next day when he & I were alone together, he told me that it was like a nervous cough, & asked what other symptoms I had. I mentioned one or two—& besides, that I feared there was no room for doubt, as to the nature of the complaint which was said to be perfectly clear & simple—& that in fact, the chest had been examined & found wanting—“with the stethoscope?” he asked “because no examination is worth anything without that.” “Yes”—I answered—“with the stethoscope”. “Well” he said, “Miss Barrett—dont you despond! What I mean to say is this—there may be desease upon the lungs, but it is not beyond the reach of remedies, or you could scarcely have that countenance which buoys me up with hope everytime I look at you.” I told him that I believed the physician who then attended me, thought hopefully of me, besides. Upon which he exclaimed very ecstatically, waving his painter’s brush––“I knew it––I was sure of it––I am very glad of it”– Indeed, you never saw so ecstatic a person. He is likely to bleed a patient to death in a furor,—& shouldn’t be trusted, with such an idiosyncrasy, in juxta-position with mortal drugs & mortal men. As to talking, oh how he did make me talk! Not on medical subjects—but on poetical! [6] I could’nt help talking––he made me! and I do most earnestly believe that if I had stayed down stairs longer at a time, & if he had stayed here a very few days more, there wd have been a course of blistering successive to the course of talking. And unfortunately (or fortunately—for I really like & admire much in him) he took a great fancy to me & told Mrs Weale that as long as I was in the drawing room he certainly wd not think of going out of the house—and as long as he was in the house, I, being in the drawing room, was silent scarcely a moment. And it might have been worse, for he said besides—to some of them––“I am a sensitive person—& while I was conversing with Miss Barrett, it was only by the strongest effort I cd keep myself from bursting into tears.” Now in such a case,—it would have been only proper for me to have done the same––& if I had not happened to remember, just then, any particular reason for crying—how very unsymmetrical & embarrassing!! He is to send me a painting of Spenser’s residence in Ireland, & an illustration of something in the Seraphim which Bummy gave to him—& some drawings for Bro—whom he considers “a young man of fine abilities”—confiding to him in their out-of-door sketch-time moments of privacy, his tendencies (before he married) to be constantly falling in & out of love, and an addiction to commit suicide which was still apt to recur. “In fact” he said very gravely “I do hate sometimes, to be alive”—Dont repeat all this, except among yourselves or even to Bummy—it being between Bro & me—& it might make her uneasy– In spite of the wildnesses, I do consider Mrs Weale to have very full cause of thanking God for her lot in life. He seems to be a thoroughly amiable person, & not to be without some high excellences of disposition, both moral & mental. He is going to commence a series of graphic illustrations of English poetry—& I am to let him have some references to passages susceptible of such illustration. [7] There was a scene between Mrs Weale & Bummy—& I was glad to hear of the former shedding many tears & being “very sure that she was insane” in times past. Bummy told her she was less insane than under the influence of Satan—but she has been very kind to her, is delighted with Mr Weale, & is satisfied & in excellent spirits at their having both been here. There now! You are more than obeyed. I have told you everything. Oh! but I shdnt forget a parting party on Friday night. Dr & Mrs Barry & the Fortescues & Miss Mackenzie [8] came—& if I may judge from the laughing & singing, made themselves as agreeable as cd be. Dr Barry Mr Weale & Bro sang trio after trio most divinely—only Bro & Dr Barry stopped once or twice to beg Mr Weale to moderate his ardour a little, as really nobody cd hear them for him! Certainly he does “roar like a nightingale”. [9] But I kept my gravity admirably up stairs––having got over the first shock. Really that first night there did seem no prospect for me but to laugh on till dawn! And Crow’s imperative “Now indeed Ma’am, you must [10] read your Psalms”, did’nt do much good,—as you may suppose!——
I have forgotten the bulletin all this time—which is a proof that you need not be anxious about having one. Pray dont take fancies into your head, Arabel, that I ever am worse than you hear of. I have not for the last ten days felt regularly every day quite as comfortable as the ten days before– Now & then I have had a bad day & stayed up stairs– But I do assure you that the chief symptoms, the only ones worth caring for—the expectoration the pulsation, intermission of the heart & perspiration at night are all in a very subdued state—& this fact attests that I am better. I believe myself to be so. When we were at dear Treppy’s last spring, they were every one worse, much worse, than they are now—although I certainly have lost in strength a good deal, & a little in the tone of the stomach—but then after such a long continuance of illness, to say nothing of the terrible winter I have had, what else cd be expected? I asked Crow (in my usual spirit of curiosity) what Minny had said in her note. Among other things, Crow told me that she was afraid I was “only a little better”. I observed “She says so, because she did not see me in the Winter”,—& Crow … “Yes! everyone who saw you at one time in the winter, & sees you now, must think it wonderful! Nobody cd believe the difference without seeing it. I am sure I [11] could not.”———— You will never believe me when I talk about going out, I have talked so much in vain of it. I am sure to go this week if I am pretty well. It is “a pleasing dread” [12] to look forward to going—& sometimes I wonder how I shall bear the necessary chair-part of it. But I shall trust the arrangement to Dr Barry. He knows me thoroughly now, & is not likely to tax my strength beyond itself—indeed he is often far more cautious than I think it necessary to be. Jane [Hedley] need’nt laugh! When I complained last autumn of Dr B. it was not that I doubted his ability or knowledge of my case—but what I did doubt, & still believe that I had reason for doubting, was his knowledge of me & of my constitution & degree of strength.—— He has been lending me his friend & patient’s Dr Cummings book, to read—“Wanderings in search of Health”– There is some account of it in the Athenæum. [13] Dr Cumming leaves the famous chest surgeon Mr Andral of Paris, [14] with instructions to go to the Pyrennees for the summer & to Italy for the winter—but goes instead, to Italy for the summer & to Ægypt to the winter. His adventures in wandering down the Nile in search of health inclined me to laugh as much as his confession that he was “a physician in search of it” vide the Ægyptian Pasha– He thinks Ægypt the place for chest-patients to winter in! & that if you dont die of the plague or the cholera prematurely you are sure to be much better in your general health—& he has a delightful plan of building a wooden hospital at Thebes for the reception of European travellers. For the meantime there seems to be every facility of passing from heat to cold, from rain to drought—& you have the opportunity of a good deal of agreeable exercise in giving the necessary castigation to the Arabian boatmen who otherwise wd be too happy to leave you to the crocodiles! I observed to Dr Barry that unless I were ambitious of being buried in a Pyramid, I shd be in no degree anxious to follow the steps of the Wanderer. Mr Andral must be flattered by Dr Cumming’s attention to his advice, which he gives at full length, in the original French, in the preface to his book!!—— [15]
The shoes fit admirably. As to the belt, Henrietta quite provoked me by sending for it—just because I happened to say that it would be a comfortable sort of cestus. [16] The sunday’s letter did delight me so– How kind of my own dearest Papa to write such a long crossed one! I was by myself—& smiled at finding myself exclaiming out loud—“Oh how very delightful”! A long letter (more legible than this) shall go to him before many days.——
What do you mean Arabel, by not drawing or painting? Scold her well, Mary [Hunter]! Indeed, I shall be seriously displeased (so you need’nt laugh) if I hear any more of such degeneracy!—— It is enough to be angry with other people! I have no convenience for being angry with you. I am very angry with some people just at this moment. Fanny [Butler] says that “the sweet smile & curtsey of the Queen, went to her heart”—and a little afterwards “Jane [Hedley] is looking quite well, but as usual is always complaining. She has a habit of it, & it is not likely to be broken”. Did you ever hear a more unprovoked unkindness—& at the same time a more manifest untruth? It is unfortunate when sisterly affection cannot go to the heart as a Queen’s curtsey!——
I am sure to be too late, Crowe says!—& there is so much more to say– May God in Christ Jesus bless you all! I am with you in thought & prayer!—& oh how much, in love!
Your own Ba.
Love to dear Trippy——
Tell Mary I am ashamed to hear of her laziness!——
God bless you dearest dearest Bella!—do write!——
Love to Minny.
Address, on integral page: Miss Arabel Barrett / 50. Wimpole Street / London.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. As EBB indicates later in this letter, Weale was a naval doctor, and had to confine himself to amateur art. Henrietta, in a letter to her brother Sam (SD1006), said “Bro & Mr. Weale went out with their sketch books immediately after breakfast– The latter is indefatigable, he went yesterday to Ansteys Cove & made two most beautiful drawings in watercolors of it—& as soon as ever he comes home, he set to work again & did a sepia drawing in the even[in]g of the boats in the bay– I imagine his object is to distinguish himself as an artist before he dies– … he has a great taste for the sister arts poetry & music but he speaks such broad Irish, you could not mistake him for a Paddy–” Mr. Weale and his wife were visiting Torquay from Plymouth, to which they had returned on 1 June.
2. Coriolanus, II, 3, 172.
3. In Greek mythology, the Naiades were the nymphs who presided over rivers, springs and fountains.
4. In SD1001, Henrietta speaks of Mr. and Mrs. Walrond as “our neighbours” and of Miss Walrond as being “Seppy’s friend.” The same letter talks of “an expedition to Dartmouth” with the Walronds and the Gardens.
5. “O’er the Water to Charlie” (The Jacobite Relics of Scotland, 1819–20), by James Hogg (1770–1835).
6. Weale gave EBB Coleridge’s Poetical Works (see Reconstruction, A678).
8. Nothing is known about Miss Mackenzie, other than that she belonged to a local family living at 8 Beacon Terrace. SD1059 speaks of EBB’s aunt inviting Miss Mackenzie to tea, and SD998 mentions Bro going fishing with Mr. Mackenzie.
9. Cf. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, I, 2, 83.
10. Underscored three times.
11. Underscored twice.
12. Cf. The Campaign (1704), V, 1, 10, by Joseph Addison (1672–1719).
13. The Athenæum of 25 May 1839 (no. 604, p. 393) reviewed Notes of a Wanderer in Search of Health, Through Italy, Egypt, Greece, Turkey; Up the Danube and Down the Rhine, by William Fullerton Cumming, M.D. (2 vols.). The review included this passage: “The tour, it seems, was undertaken to escape from the probable consequences of symptoms of consumption—and the Notes close with a page of cheerful resignation, which … ought to charm the critics into silence.”
14. Gabriel Andral (1797–1876), “whose reputation for a superior knowledge of thoracic diseases is well known throughout Europe” (Notes of a Wanderer, pp. viii–ix).
15. On pp. ix–x.
16. “Girdle.”
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