SD1023. Arabella Moulton-Barrett to Samuel Moulton-Barrett (brother)
Published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 4, 356 (in part).
Wimpole Street
Augst 15th [1839]
Taking your “delicate hint” my beloved Sam, I am going to write to you by this packet, as my last letter & the few lines crossing Papa’s letter were directed to dearest Stormie—& therefore it is only in common justice, that you should have the opening of the letter this time. If my eyes were sufficiently penetrating to see through all the obstructions that come between us & Torquay—& having done that, if I shd find Henrietta engaged in writing to you, I am not at all sure that this letter shd be written—but I do not like to trust to uncertainties, so get under some shade tree, with a fan in yr hand & a pine apple beside you, & read with great patience all I am now going to say to you. And then where is Stormie all this time whilst you are so profitably & so agreeably engaged? Wherever it may happen that he may be, I mean to fancy him not far from you—some where within reach of my voice—walking about dressed in his blouse, enjoying the heat of the sun as much as he used to do on the leads at Gloucester place, & looking rather contemptuously on your shady tree, & yr fan &c—but waiting most impatiently until you shd have come to the last word of my letter. So listen to me both of you!– And what have you to say for yourselves for treating us so shamefully as you have done? Can you ever expect forgiveness? I for one, have almost come to a determination never to grant my pardon to either one of you! To be for four days at Madeira & never to condescend to write one line to us, is quite unpardonable—& you deserve, as a punishment, not to hear from us for four months in consequence. If a Russian ship had not chanced to meet a boat of ours in the channel, we shd have heard nothing of your arrival at Madeira, & we shd therefore have thought it proper to make ourselves very uneasy about you, as having such perfect confidence in your fraternal consideration, we never could have supposed it possible that you cd have gone to Madeira without writing to us, after all your promises! But so it is! I persisted that if the Russian vessel had not brought us a letter, some other vessel would—until the day before yesterday, when Papa told us at dinner of a bill that you had drawn upon him for £35 through Anderson. Do you know, Sam, he was a good deal annoyed about it. Why did you not send it direct here to Papa himself—or write to him to explain about it—what it was for &c.? It is a great pity you did not– Papa supposes this Madeira is for speculation– Why did you not write to tell him? but it is a great blessing to know you have arrived thus far safely. I wish we knew how you both were. We may be thankful for what we do already know & wait patiently until we can know more. We were talking of you last night, & Papa says you must be, before this, in Jamaica. What a happiness it will be to us to receive the first letter from you there– May God answer all the prayers that are offered up by us for you– But now to tell you of our dearest Ba. She is going on very nicely, & she speaks most confidently of the certainty in her own mind, of her being much better than she was last summer in London. She acknowledges that she is weaker, but that the disease is very much reduced—& that is the great thing after all. The disease being once overcome, her strength wd soon return. And this will be in God’s time. Although we cannot pray together now for her, let our prayers meet together for her at the throne of grace– There is no distance that can separate us there– I am going almost immediately to Torquay, & I am as pleased in consequence, as I can be—& I shd be completely happy if we were all going together. Yesterday I wrote to desire Bro to meet me at Southampton, & now I am only waiting to know when he can be there. I am to travel so far by the railroad, & the rest of the way by sea. If it be at all amongst the possibilities, I <medi>tate going to Merry Oak, to take a peep at Jane & Uncle Hedley—their house being only two miles & a half from Southampton– Georgie is still at Torquay, & he wrote out & sent to me the other day, Ba’s ballad, unknown to her—& by doing so, Papa says he has committed a breach of morality & he refuses to read it until Ba knows & has given him permission to read it– I, not being quite so strict, have read it, & I am quite overflowing with gratitude to George for being so very immoral! [1] – It is most beautiful, very superior to the “Romaunt of the Page”—but so horrible. I was prepared in some way for the horrors there, having been told by Ba “that no one cd read it by candlelight, far less by sun light”—but in spite of this preparation & my natural bravery, my hair felt inclined to turn upward as I read it!– As soon as the book comes out, it will be sent to you & Stormie. Bro & Georgie, with the other bachelors at Torquay were to give a picnic to the Ladies at Torquay, at their particular request– A great deal was said about this party, & it arose very high in ideal, crowning with champagne rosée & the bachelors in consequence of all they said concerning it, gave the ladies an unshaken belief in their wonderful liberality. But who wd believe it? They found at last that the champagne & the other things necessary for a picnic wd be rather expensive, & they gave it up. Whether they were candid or not, to confess the real reason for doing so, to the ladies, I don’t know—but I hear that Georgie when the subject is alluded to makes a point of being absent. I hear Georgie has been making himself useful at Torquay in his professional character. Lady Bolingbroke begged an interview of him for two hours (but wh lasted three hours) to consult him on legal matter– He gave his advice satisfactorily wh has put Lady Bolingbroke in an agony of excitement. She has pressed his fee upon him again & again, & now talks of taking other measures to force him to take it. She thinks he is a charming person, and his only fault is, too much “youthful generosity”– Bro paints most assiduously & they talk of his “picture gallery”– There is no more news to tell you of the Torquayites, & as to us– Why, we are going on as quietly & as discreetly as ever– Mr Mansfield or Mr Edward O’Brien (who is in town) occasionally dining with us– That is the height of our gaiety– George Nuttall leaves us on Saturday after a visit of three weeks. He, Sette & Occy are just set off on an excursion to the tunnel. The last words that Occy said as he went away were “Give my love to Sam & Stormie” & although the love of the rest is not officially sent to you, yet I know I may take it upon myself to give it to you. Then here is Treppy sitting by me, who does really send her love you– Henry still sighs for & talks of the wrong—& appears privately to have given up all idea of engineering, although he has not openly declared his dislike to it– Nothing more is said of Sir John Rennie—indeed, Papa says he wd not force him to go to him & has left it entirely to himself so that I suppose long before this, that the chance there is lost. He goes very regularly to Mr Staines. A new french master is coming today to teach Daisy Set & Occy. To my surprise yesterday, Mr Newdick walked in. He had come the day before by sea with all his children, whom he had been dispersing in different directions—some to Epson, & some to Bayshore, where they were to remain until the packing was over—& he was to return to Mrs Newdick at Sidmouth today– In a fortnight or three weeks, they will again be in London on their way to Germany[.] Their house (as you will see in the paper) is to be sold at the end of this month!– Papa asked him to dine with us yesterday, but he was already engaged to dine with Mr Wright. What dreadful accounts of Jamaica. Pray do effect a revolution immediately, or there will be nothing but starvation for us all. We hope every thing from yours & Stormie’s exertions & presence there[.] Only pray dont, for our sakes, expose yourselves too much. Remember, dearest Sam, it was too much exercise that brought on your attack of ague, & so I do beg of you to be careful—& then you, dearest Stormie, remember that you are unused to the climate, & therefore you shd be particularly careful– May God preserve you both– How I wish I cd occasionally take a peep at you both. How does Stormie like Jamaica? Oh, we do want so much to hear about you both– Pray write regularly & tell us everything[.] There is nothing left for me to say to you, except to remind you how much you are both thought of & loved & prayed for by us– You shall hear very regularly about Ba– May God bless you my beloved Sam & Stormie[.] Ever your fondly attached Arabel.
Tell Stormie O’Connell’s head is quite safe in a corner of Daisy & Occy’s room[.] As for your heads, Mr Lough had not sent them to us yet & I am very impatient & very anxious at this long delay. I hope Stormie will forgive me, but they are much more valuable in my eyes, than twenty of O’Connell’s heads wd be. Can you read this? I doubt much the possibility[.]
Address, on integral page: S. M. Barrett Esqr / Cinnamon Hill / Little River / St. Jame’s / Jamaica.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Eton College Library.
1. Underscored three times.
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