766. EBB to George Goodin Moulton-Barrett
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 4, 286–288.
Torquay.
Wednesday. [17 June 1840] [1]
My ever dearest Georgie,
When you are measuring the length & breadth of my ingratitude, do make allowances for the time during which ‘Glencoe’ [2] lingered upon the seas. It never reached me until last week—& every day since has found me on the edge of a letter to you– Thank you my dearest Georgie!– If you think as stedfastly of the rights of your clients as of my pleasures, you will be sacked [3] in no time. It was, as you well knew it wd be, a great pleasure to me to look into Glencoe—and yet the play is to my mind, a failure, even without thinking of Ion. The newspapers seemed however to speak well of its reception [4] —the consequence perhaps of some melodramatic capability. Otherwise the feebleness & want of concentrative power wd be as obvious, I shd suppose, upon the stage as elsewhere. High & tender thoughts there are, gracefully & harmoniously expressed—which is not being tragic! Thank you my dearest Georgie. Your part is more perfect than the Serjeant’s.
Thank you too for two notes—are there not two?—& for the advices in both. Bro is of opinion that I “move my legs & arms” (which was in yr prescription) “quite enough for anything”—and in regard to other movements, be patient & you shall hear of them. In the meantime deduct from your fancies about me that I am lying in bed, from fear of the exertion of getting up. When a medical man stands by saying,—“Dont do it—you will throw yourself back again—it always does you harm—” it is rather difficult to take the other side of the question. Nevertheless, Papa being evidently anxious about it, I urged a repetition of the experiment upon Dr Scully yesterday,—& he agrees to its being made tomorrow or next day, when the wind subsides. At the same time his reluctance was tolerably evident,—& his words to Crow when he left the house were—“If Miss Barrett does’nt take care, she will make herself ill again”. When I was up last, there was not merely fainting,—the consequences were agitation of the pulse for some days, & tendency to fever. Dr Scully says “I am as anxious as anybody can be for you to be able to move—but I do wish you to gain a little strength, (which you are doing slowly) before too much is attempted– The case is of such a nature, that it is far easier to make you much worse than at all better.”– So now pray acquit me. I am afraid of nothing except of not seeing you this summer—& it is’nt altogether as agreeable to lie here half in the dark as you might possibly fancy– The real truth is that the fever in April induced a degree of weakness from which it is only surprising, considering my previous debility, that I shd have rallied so far. I never was so ill or weak at anytime in my life, to my own remembrance—& now all is past, by divine mercy, I may tell you that I myself did not suppose it humanly possible for me to be better anymore. Indeed Dr Scully told me at the time, that if I were an older person he shd despond, but that he trusted to the elasticity remaining in the constitution. This accounts for my not reviving as quickly with the present summer as with the former one,—& since the strength is really & gradually though slowly coming, it shd do so satisfactorily to all of you—even to you, my dearest learnedest George with your latent genius for MD-city.
You have heard of Arabel’s & Brozie’s separate romances. [5] The latter has discarded his green blind, & indeed ventures to show his whole face out of doors by twilight instead of waiting for the very pitch dark. As to Arabel, was’nt it an adventure? Poor dearest Bella! With the scolding after the perils!—& after that ideal drowning & assassination, the real thorough fatigue of half running nearly eight miles! But two days stiffness was all the harm done—& she & the Mackintoshes continue great friends, & I encourage her being with them as much as possible because their happy spirits & love of fresh air & country excursions are both exhilarating & advantageous to her—forming breaks upon the monotony & gloom which her kindness to me necessarily produces– She was so kind when I was ill– <…> [6] It was all Dr Scully cd do to keep her from sitting up night after night—which wd never have done. They were all of them very very kind.
I wish we cd hear more of what you all do. Has Henry made up his mind to some occupation which is not insurmountably objectionable to Papa? I am sure he is too kind, & I hope he is too wise, to cleave any longer to military or naval fancies, the fulfilment of which wd entail such anxiety & pain upon many of us– And to anything else, there is a plain way– Why does’nt he think hard about it?– Affecte love to him. Dearest Joc’s [7] first vol. of Napoleon shall go back in a better state than it came here. I like it very much. You know Mr Horne is editor. He sent me a ballad yesterday—& we continue fast-sworn friends. Did you see any extracts from Gregory? I have the tragedy.– Very fine—but not as overwhelming as the Cosmo. Set writes nothing but business. My best love to dearest Trippy who ought to write to me. Make her stay in for a good deal. Bummy writes very seldom, always talks of coming when she does– But she wont come. Poor little Mary [Hunter] has terrible sick headaches—but the rest of us are well enough to administer the emetics. Her father left Cork yesterday for Dublin & Liverpool whence he goes to Leicester on his way homewards. It seems almost certain that he will enter into a temporary engagement with the Kingsbridge people. God bless you all. I long to see you beyond all things—feeling it hard to be patient. God bless you my beloved George.
Your own Ba.
Love to my dearest Minny, whose kind letters I shall soon reply to. I am ordered to be raised to “an angle of 45” today with pillows. Will that please you? My thoughts day & night wander round about you– Oh you dont know how I love you all. Everybody’s best love.
Address: George Goodin Barrett Esqr / 50. Wimpole Street/ London.
Publication: B-GB, pp. 46–50.
Manuscript: Pierpont Morgan Library.
1. Dated by postmark, 18 June 1840. 17 June fell on Wednesday.
2. Thomas Noon Talfourd’s new play (1840). George sent EBB a copy of the second edition (see Reconstruction, A2242).
3. A play on words, the Woolsack being the Lord Chancellor’s seat in the House of Lords.
4. The Morning Chronicle of 25 May, reviewing the play’s première on 23 May, said “not till the third act did general attention seem fairly seized, and then, through the fourth and fifth acts, there was one decisive triumph. The curtain fell to successive bursts of genuine applause.” The Times of 25 May said “the last two acts were triumphant … we have little doubt that it will prove attractive.”
5. No specific details of these romances survive. Obviously, parental opposition was involved—EBB later recounted to RB (letter of 12 December 1845) that she wished to assist Bro by making over to him her financial interests, but that her “hands were seized & tied.”
6. About half a line obliterated, apparently by EBB.
7. i.e., Octavius.
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