703. EBB to Arabella Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 4, 173–178.
[Torquay]
[13 July 1839] [1]
My ever very dearest Arabel,
But I am sure you dont believe it quite—you cant, after the abominable manner in which I have behaved to you about your birthday! My very very dearest Arabel! Can you forgive me after all? Or have you & Minny (I am sure Minny has, at any rate) put me away in spirits & a corked bottle, as a moral monster of ingratitude? Your birthday is the fourth of July. Dont imagine that I forgot that. I thought of it in April & May & June. This morning I was sending away my packet to Miss Mitford, & in the process asked Crow the day of the month– “The 13th of July.” “The thirteenth of July! [2] so impossible!”. She thought I was mad—& if remorse ever made anybody mad, I ought to have been so in all conscience! Do, do forgive me! and dont fancy, because I am away from you, that I forgot you, & because you had no letter from me on the right day, that I do not love you! I remember & love you more than if you were always before my eyes—a great deal more—and I am so very very sorry (for my own sake) that this has happened. I pray for you always, but I shd like to have done it upon that day in reference to it. But God remembered you upon it—& I scarcely needed this to prove to me how much better we are in the arms of His all rememb[e]ring & embracing Love, that is the tenderest care we can put out one towards another. According to His love, not to mine, may He bless you in earthly & spiritual things. Indeed I am humbled.
If it had not been for this, my thoughts had tended towards my own beloved Papa– I had half meant to write to him today. Do tell him how deeply I felt the kindness of his solicitude in begging me off, from the overwork. [3] Neither that nor any other proof of his love cd come to me as less than a pleasantness—altho’ the fear of some anxiety on his part having preceded the proof-giving, must cause me to regret my own part in producing it. Indeed I am sure Bummy & others imagine me to have groaned sundry superfluities in Henrietta’s letter—& I suspect myself that I wrote by no means like a hero. So you must not believe me for the future, should I happen ever again under such or similar circumstances, to be too demonstrative. One hero in a family is as much as can be expected—& we have Henry!!—and besides I am not the first poet who left his shield upon the battlefield. [4] —& besides I am apt, in writing to you, to leave the ohs & ahs sprinkled about, rather in the course of nature than of oratory! Do be sure of one thing, beloved Papa & all, that I am taken care of, in the extreme sense of the words,—“this side upper most” being as strictly adhered to, as if I were made of Venetian glass. As to fatigue, you know that I cd not but be expected—& when I am fatigued the effect in regard to sleeping, is always the same. My difficulty in regard to sleeping ordinarily, is from a want of calmness in the nervous system & circulation—therefore it stands to reason that whatever is of a disturbing character to body or mind, must increase the difficulty a little– But use will remove the obstacle––(i.e. the irritation from moving––) and in the process of doing this, my dearest Papa’s wishes shall be attended to. There has been a week’s rest in consequence of the weather, for me,—so that I ought to be fit for sailing round the world by today; and I expect Dr Barry every moment to come & say so. He does not coersce [sic], as it used to be his gracious pleasure to do once—and indeed Crow observed to me yesterday, “I am sure Ma’am you are a much greater favorite of Dr Barry’s, than you used to be”. “How do you mean, Crow?” [‘]‘Why, I observe now that he does not seem to like to press you to do anything disagreeable to you. He gives up in a minute when he sees that you dont like what he proposes,—he seems so much more goodnatured altogether.” He is very kind, & I have nothing to complain of––& certainly if he does (as he does) treat me like a child, it is now like a very good child indeed—(“it shall have its sugar plum! that it shall![”]) and not like a naughty perverse child that looks best with its face in the corner. Oh no! Mr Squeers is put off—the Squeers discipline is at an end!– [5] And yet I was a little frightened two days ago when the ballad came to light—and it was, I think, a struggle with Dr Barry as to whether he wd be sublime or beautiful upon the occasion. He came into my room & found me dressed lying on the bed & thinking of the whole creation rather than of him. “I was ware” [6] of the tableau near me, besides a writing case a half written letter & a pen guilty of ink. “In the very act, Miss Barrett! In the very act! Now what can you say for yourself?” “Only writing a letter Dr Barry––!” which was true, but I felt remorseful notwithstanding– I did not want to make a mystery of the business longer than was absolutely necessary & was not sorry when Henrietta placed the tableau in his hands, with the explanation that Miss Mitford had sent it for me to illustrate. “Put it into the fire! Take it away & burn it. Oh no, I cant indeed suffer such a thing.”– She observed with an accent quite stone-melting, that the mischief was done. And then he looked vacillating between wrath & benignancy; & after a minutes mute horror on my part, I made out that I might as well throw away my medecines, for that nothing in the pharmacopœa cd reach a case of such unmitigatable perversity—and a great deal besides that sounded very awful about [“]inexhaustible fuel & internal fires!” I appealed to him whether it was not much better to disobey him than to be perjured—and by degrees, between sundry quakes & shakes of the head, the smiles came back again—and we even grew calm enough to discuss the subject of the drawing. Dr Barry would have it to mean the dedication of a garland to the sepulchre of the lady’s lover, upon which I quite made him laugh by assuring him that he was much too romantic for me, & that such a thing had never occurred to me before—so that it all ended very well. I made him understand too that the perpetration had taken place during his absence—at least for the most part—which sounded less like authority defied, altho’ he took advantage of that communication to declare that he was not quite satisfied how it happened that I was not so well (as to expectoration) when he returned as when he left me! The ballad has not done me the very least degree of harm. I maintain that on the point of my sword. But medical opinions must be consistently maintained too, I suppose; & I am content in the cost to me being so little! And now there is nothing to be afraid of.
The ballad went away this morning. Brozie encourages me about it very much—but my impression still is that Miss Mitford wont like it nearly as well as the last—without reference to the length, which is past all reason. Above three hundred & fifty lines, for the most part of fourteen syllables! A ballad in four parts. I have told her that as she cant see me blush through England she must take my word for it! When you once begin a story you cant bring it to an end all in a moment—and what with nuns & devils & angels & marriages & deaths & little boys, I could’nt get out of the mud without a great deal of splashing, which Brozie likes extremely but which may cause less gentle critics to take up their doublets. The title is “The Legend of the Brown Rosary”, & the heroine’s name is Lenora. [7]
[“]‘Lenora, Lenora!’ her mother is calling!–
She sits at the lattice & hears the dew falling–”
There are the first two lines—& the only ones you shall see until I show them to you myself either here or in London. [8] I have vowed upon my rosary that you shall not!——
Not a bit of my [“]poesisy” [9] was written to Mr Naylor—but a sufficiently civil note. I liked two sonnets & one rather longer poem & told him so, & told him besides that the gift of his book was the more gratifying to me as coming from a friend of Miss Mitford. [10] Praising the poetry of it generally, was quite out of the question. It is an excellent mimicry from le comique of Tennyson—Tennyson’s mannerism & peculiarities without his genius. I felt myself quite laughing while I was reading some things in it. Nor could’nt have done it better!—— As to writing “hypocritical letters” in exchange for books, pray beware how you attribute such a thing to me again– That being the only point upon which I am superior to Sir Walter Scott, I pique myself proportionally upon it.—— [11]
Brozie brought me such pretty blue two vases this morning .. made of blue glass, very high & slim, so slim as not to be able to contain more than two or three flowers each—& you cant think how pretty they look upon the chimney piece opposite the bed, & on either side of a blue flowerpot wherein groweth a most splendid geranium so scarlet & luminous as quite to flare through the room. Sette will tell you about the flowerpot: & in regard to the others was it not kind of Brozie? So very kind. I keep them upstairs, because I dont like to be deserted by all the flowers, & am half the day or more in my bedroom. Being always up at eleven in the morning, Dr Barry allows me to remain in peace until one or a little after––this on days when I dont go out;—but upon those days, I go straight to the boat & straight back again without touching at the drawing room at all. This room is twice as pleasant as the drawing room, where the balcony cuts the sea into little stars, besides the restraint upon visitors & sundry noises, which my presence takes with it. The sea view is beautiful & uninterrupted from these windows—indeed if I shd be at Torquay at all at regatta time (the beginning of August) my intention is to let out sittings up stairs. It wd answer quite as well as the house-buying. Dont you think so?–
Thank you my own dear Bella for your account of the sermon. [12] You are angry about something & with somebody. About what or with whom I do not know, but be sure of my sympathy of rage. I envied you all except the thunderstorm which if it lasted the whole of chapel time, (did it? I cant quite understand) must have distracted you a little. We had no storm that night—& I & my thoughts amused ourselves with drawing out the text to the best length we could reach, covetting every now & then our neighbours pew. We fancied rather that the first clause “Yet it pleased the Lord to bruise him,—to put him to grief” [13] would be the one selected for consideration—but in this it seems that we went astray. It is a full verse—no one can go astray in it from the great meaning of God which informs it—and oh may that meaning overflow into our hearts & before our footsteps with its excelling sweetness– “Ay so! Let the roses & the lilies go!”– [14] Do you intend me to understand that Mr Hunter was to go to Clapton last friday? & not to return to Wimpole Street?– How is this to be? I expect to hear a great deal about movements of all sorts by today’s post (I am finishing these corners on Sunday morning) and woe to you Arabel, if you pass me by with any of your very sublime silences. So Georgie wont come by sea! and my drama of waving pocket handkerchiefs at five in the morning is got up for nothing!—– Mr Orange the new minister at the chapel [15] left a luminous card upon me the day before yesterday. I was not down stairs—and he told Crow that he had not been quite aware how unwell I was until then, & that it wd give him great pleasure to come & see me whenever I was inclined to see him, & wd let him know. Was it not very kind? I think so, & feel quite pleased about it—my only difficulty being as to the time. I would prefer seeing him alone—and this it is difficult to do in the drawing room– I think I shall fix upon their dinner hour, some day when I cant go out, & write a note to him– Crow has heard him preach, & was very much pleased indeed, and assures me that his manner, particularly in prayer, reminded her of Mr Hunter. She says too that he looks just like a missionary—and when I prayed for an explanation, she insisted upon his complexion being brown & his hair white, as distinctive signs– His family are arrived, & two little boys in straw hats have added to our population. It will be a great privilege to me to have some intercourse with him—if I can but manage it without brushing against the shirts of uncle Richard Dr Barry & other dramatis personæ–
There was a repetition yesterday of the going out—and it was managed pretty well. I should be so glad to have the Bella Donna (my yatch) brought to the side of the bed—or even (for I would not be extravagant in my expectations) to the house door! Henrietta & Crow have their share of the amusement agreeably interspersed with sensations of sickness so that altogether we have delightful parties. Oh! how I do wish you were part & parcel of the same!–
My best love to dearest Trippy. She is a very naughty person to think of sending me or Henrietta either these mantillas. Why wont she pack up herself to our direction, in a fit of generosity which we cd appreciate?——
There has been a letter from Jane announcing uncle Hedley’s safe arrival, & her own satisfaction with everything around her except with her own consciousness of having left us. [16] I do hope & trust they may be happy at Merry Oak—but my prophecy is that they wont stay there. In the meantime they are paying seven hundred a year upon a doubtful experiment. Walters, Jane’s maid, told us that the house was very pretty—but that she was already sensible of its being a cold one– How indeed can it be otherwise, without the shelter of a hill on any one side?——
Miss Garrow & Miss Fisher paid me an hour’s visit on friday—& thought me looking “much better” than when they saw me last, a month ago. I really think & believe I shd like Miss Garrow– Bro insists upon her exceeding affectation—to which I can only say that it is to me exceedingly innoxious. I perceive nothing of the sort—and I do perceive that she is in earnest in her love of poetry—which is always a pleasant & rare perception—at least in my experience–
You will pray for me today, my beloved Arabel—as I shall for you! May He in whom we are one, [17] in Jesus, bless us both!—bless all of you, my dearest dearest Papa & all of you!——
Your most attached Ba–
Henrietta desires me to wish you many happy returns of the day from her!—I am ashamed to write it either from her or myself.
My love to dear Minny– <…> [18]
I cant read this over again– So forgive the errata[.]
Think of Mrs Brydges Williams [19] sending me the first fruits of her grapery– Most splendid grapes—& a basket of Eden flowers besides! The people here are very kind. Delightful weather for the beloved upon the sea!——
Address, on integral page: Miss Arabel Barrett / 50 Wimpole Street / London–
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Berg Collection.
1. The year is provided by a partial postmark; internal references supply the day and month.
2. Underscored three times.
3. This is probably a reference to a passage in SD1018, in which Henrietta tells Sam that their father had written to Torquay asking that EBB be spared the exertion of going out daily, despite Dr. Barry’s wish for her not to miss benefitting from the fine weather.
4. Cf. The Æneid, bk. XII.
5. Wackford Squeers was the tyrannical master of Dotheboys Hall in Dickens’s Nicholas Nickleby.
6. Romeo and Juliet, II, 2, 103.
7. Changed to Onora when the poem was reprinted as “The Lay of the Brown Rosary” in Poems (1844).
8. In view of this, it is interesting to note that George made a copy of the poem and sent it to Wimpole Street without EBB’s knowledge. Mr. Moulton-Barrett called this “a breach of morality” and refused to read it until EBB gave her permission—but Arabella, “not being quite so strict,” had no such scruples (see SD1023).
9. An obsolete word for poetry, from the Greek and Latin poesis (OED).
10. Naylor presented EBB with a copy of his Ceracchi, a Drama and other Poems (see Reconstruction, A1722).
12. By G.B. Hunter. SD1018 tells how “Arabel walked through a violent thunderstorm to hear him, her admiration of his preaching could not have been evidenced in a stronger way than this.”
13. Isaiah, 53:10.
14. We have not traced the source of this quotation.
15. Mr. Orange had just become the incumbent at the Independent Chapel in Union Street; he and his family were living at Penton Villa, Victoria Place. EBB gave him a copy of The Seraphim, inscribed “to the Revd. J. Orange, with the author’s grateful remembrances, Torquay, October 1839” (see Reconstruction, C170).
16. As mentioned in the previous letter, the Hedleys had moved from Torquay to Southampton.
17. Cf. Galatians, 3:28.
18. Almost half a line obliterated, presumably by EBB.
19. Sarah Brydges Willyams (née da Costa) was the widow of Col. James Brydges Willyams, who had died in 1820. She lived at Mount Braddon, Torquay, and later became known for her close friendship with Disraeli. When she died in 1863 he was her residual legatee and inherited some £30,000 from her. She was buried at Disraeli’s estate at Hughenden.
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