2962. EBB to Henrietta Cook

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 17, 125–129.

Paris–

Monday– [6 October 1851] [1]

My very dearest Henrietta, At last I begin to do my duty to you. Duty and pleasure,—for I long to get nearer to you, indeed, than I have been, anyhow except in love, for ever so many weeks. But Arabel has written all to you, & your goodness has understood the sort of dismal confusion I have been whirled about in all this time, scarcely knowing whether head or foot was uppermost, or pain or pleasure stronger. When Wilson came back & relieved me of Wiedeman, darling child, (who stuck to me like a little old man of the mountain [2] every moment of her absence) the accumulated engagements attendant on this long engagement at home, broke on me– I had to go here & there in all directions, & see & write & talk till I was out of breath– Robert & I put above twenty letters in the post the day before we left London. Then there were the Wimpole Street troubles—some of them ending happily as in dear George’s case .. who was very good & kind & feeling to me at last—it has made me really happier. For the rest, we need not speak of it, it is so very disastrous & hopeless– I could never tell you, if I tried, what I felt when those letters came back to me, nine or ten of them, all with their unbroken seals testifying to the sealed up heart which refused to be opened by me– Oh, if my child were cast out of society for the most hideous of possible crimes, could I keep my heart so sealed up towards him? Not while a pulse of life stirred in it. If God & man cried aloud to me not to open, I should yet open—I could not help it. Think of the black unbroken seals, Henrietta, & the black-edged paper– How did he know that I might not have been widowed & childless & calling out to him in my desolation?– But he let the letters lie on there, whatever they were. He fulfilled what he considered (he said, writing to Robert) “his duty to himself, his family & society.” May God pardon what we call our virtues! For my part, I look upon it all with profound pity & sorrow, & now with little hope. Why should I write of it anymore?

Of the two last of our evenings in London, we spent one with Mr Fox, and one with Mr Rogers– I confess I grudged both away from my dearest Arabel—even the one with Rogers, who is confined to his armchair from the consequences of his accident a year ago [3] & is besides nearly ninety. He wished to see me, & we could’nt refuse, of course, his age & position generally, being so precarious. His countenance & manner were most benign, & we brought away with us very pleasant impressions.

But the very last melancholy packing-up evening, Arabel stayed with us, & so did Trippy– I was glad when all that was over. The next morning was bad enough, to drive through Wimpole Street & look up at the house. —Ah yes, Henrietta, you think me “bold” .. brazen-faced, now is’nt the word better so? .. to have dared to send Wiedeman every day, & to have gone myself several times to that house! Did Arabel tell you how once, lately, she kept me in her room while she dressed, & how I heard Papa come up stairs, go down again, talk & laugh .. I, in a sort of horror of fright & mixed feelings? and how I walked home with Bonser while they were at dinner, past the diningroom door? But it made me very sad all the evening after, & Robert was not pleased & called it “imprudent to excess”– Arabel’s room is very comfortable—the most cheerful in the house, I think. As to the drawing-rooms, they seemed to me smaller & darker, somehow, & the furniture wanted fitness & convenience, & bachelor-looking the general effect was. So grieved I am at their not going out of town for Arabel’s sake, to whom change of air is really necessary once a year. And a universal cleansing seemed as necessary for the house—only there’s no chance of their going now, I much fear.

Did she tell you that Carlyle travelled with us to Paris? he put off his journey a day that he might do so, and we had a delightful journey, except the sea-part which was horrible. Eight hours in such a stormy rolling sea, we had, & everybody was ill, even I and Wiedeman & Flush who was ordered off the deck on purpose, poor dog. As to Wiedeman, he rather liked it, & rose in conscious dignity when he had used the basin—never cried once, the whole day, though he might well have been frightened at the roaring wind & waters, & lay still just as I “advised” him, for seven hours together. He is certainly the most reasonable of children. Poor Wilson suffered dreadfully, & so did Robert in a less degree. But my illness & Baby’s was of the slightest kind. It was disgrace enough for me to have been affected at all, I think.

Paris is very full, pressed down & running over, and we have had great difficulty about apartments, because you see, in order to please Mr Kenyon, & to be near his hotel, we did our utmost to get them near the Madeleine, where they are the fewest in number & dearest on account of that paucity. Then our own requirements are not few—we wanted a sunny south aspect, and a third sitting room for Robert to write in, & two good bedrooms for ourselves & Wiedeman, besides one for a servant—and we did not wish to go up too high in a house for these things, although fourth & fifth floors are considered rather desireable in Paris: my chest is not fit for daily exertions of the kind. So, at last we had to give up the Madeleine, & go off to the Champs Elysèes, which is expensive too in its way but somewhat less so—there are more apartments to let there, which makes it cheaper in spite of the excellence of the situation. We found a very nice apartment on a second floor to suit us exactly, bathed in the sun & comfortably furnished, with a large terrace, & beautiful view upon the great avenue, and for this we pay two pounds a week—more than we wished—but what could we do? Paris is full, and the six months we take it for, constitute “the season.” We shall œconomize in other things, I dare say. I hear that the best pieces of meat are to be had at six pence a pound (the French pound—larger than the English) [4] & rump steaks (which are the dearest) at sevenpence,—& that in every respect we can live here cheaply. In London we used to pay fifteen pence halfpenny—the prices were enormous. Henrietta, there is an apartment above ours in the same house, .. a sitting room & three bedrooms, or a sitting room & diningroom & two bedrooms (I forget which) with a kitchen, .. very small, but pretty, & with a magnificent view from the windows, to be let for one pound a week– What do you think,

<…> [5]

of coming over & settling in it? Think of this, you & Surtees.

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You will get something else in good time, before Altham’s education shall require it, be sure, and in the meanwhile, a “happy home” does not mean a “rich home,” as both you & I know well—and the true treasure is much rather in the cradle than in the purse. How is the dear babe now? Generally after the cutting of a pair of teeth there is repose to the system for awhile, but the feverishness which you spoke of in the last letter to Arabel (the last before I left London) seemed prophetic of another pair of teeth—in which case, he will do much faster than my Wiedeman did. I always quote Altham to everyone as the most splendid of children, which he is indeed. Does his hair grow perceptibly? And will you keep that little poor bare head uncovered by a cap all the winter? Give it a dozen kisses from me, little darling head, & tell it to put out its curls. Wiedeman is much improved since you saw him—looking infinitely stronger, with two fat rosy cheeks which it is a joy to look at. He mixes up English words with his Italian, adding a french word or two, & bidding fair to be a polyglot child after his long dumbness. I assure you he made good use of his two months in London, having learnt English perfectly in the course of them– Whatever you say to him now in either English or Italian he understands equally well, & that is something, at the age of two years & a half. George gave him a beautiful pelisse of blue merino & Arabel embroidered him a very very pretty scarlet merino frock, & altogether he is equipt splendidly for the Parisians. I shall buy him presently, when winter comes, a white felt hat & feather, & then he may set up for the presidency.

My dearest darling Arabel, how I miss her! Ah—you know that, Henrietta. Never was there diviner christian self abnegation than glorifies her inner & outward life! Robert loves her as she deserves—& I love her better than I ever did. Oh—that we could catch her away to live with us here. That’s what I should rejoice in above most joys.

Do write to me, beloved Henrietta, & tell me every little thing about yourself, Surtees, & the baby. Remember we are to write to one another now, & you are not to fail if I do not. I think still gratefully & gladly of the vision I had of you (through the supernaturalism of Surtees’s kindness) in London, & wish I had been worthier of it, more able to enjoy it at the time. My cough grew better after that, & then worse again, & then better & then worse again– I never lost it entirely, &, the last night, could’nt sleep for coughing. Now, it has almost vanished. The air here is quite different, clear as chrystal & glittering in sunshine for the most part. We have a most decided advantage over England as to climate certainly, & I do hope it may be found possible for me to live here without going farther south. As to England, I know I shd be as ill as ever if I stayed there—it’s a climate not tenable really.

Will you write? Will you believe that I love you dearly, dearly, dearly?

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God bless you & turn all to good as He can. Carlyle paid 22 shillings for his journey (first class) from London to Paris. Think of Paris—do. Robert’s best love to you both with that of

your dearly attached

We go on the tenth, friday next, to our new apartment, 138 Avenue des Champs Elysees. I dont believe that Mr Martin sent the anonymous letter. Oh no! Probably the result of it was rather favorable to you than unfavorable. Surtees’s first letter [8] was written in an admirable spirit & temper.

Publication: Huxley, pp. 140–143 (in part).

Manuscript: British Library.

1. Dated by EBB’s reference to “the tenth, friday next” as the day of the Brownings’ move to 138 Avenue des Champs Élysées.

2. EBB has in mind “the old man of the sea,” who, in “The Fifth Voyage of Sinbad the Sailor” in The Arabian Nights enslaves Sinbad and rides on his shoulders day and night without rest.

3. In 1850 Samuel Rogers “was hit by a carriage and his left leg was permanently damaged” (ODNB).

4. Although France had officially converted to the metric system in 1840, older forms of weights and measures remained in use. The French pound, or livre, was equivalent to about 1.08 English pounds.

5. One line has been obliterated after receipt.

6. A little over six lines have been obliterated after receipt, doubtless in regard to Surtees Cook’s bid for the Wilton post.

7. About three lines have been obliterated after receipt.

8. EBB’s comments here and in letter 2965 seem to refer to Surtees Cook’s candidacy for the governorship of Wilton Gaol and some communication concerning it between himself and Edward Moulton-Barrett. See letter 2965, note 10. Apparently an anonymous letter had been sent to 50 Wimpole Street on the same subject.

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