2968. EBB to Henrietta Cook
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 17, 143–147.
<138 Avenue des Champs Elysées
Paris.
Oct. [20]. 1851– [1]
My beloved Henrietta,
May God bless you and comfort you both, and set your feet in the sunniest of straight ways.
And now for Paris. What you object to is very reasonable, and dear as the joy would be of having you in this house with me, I will urge nothing at all. You know best and will decide best. The view from the windows (and there is a balcony) is most beautiful, and would light up your spirits, I do think. A drawing room, dining room, two bed-rooms, an excellent kitchen,> [2] & a room for a servant. Of course you would require another servant to cook & wait on you—& you might get one good enough for 20 francs a month (we give 22 francs to ours)—& twenty francs are fifteen shillings. Meat of all sorts .. & the meat is excellent .. is 6d (12 sous) a pound—& the pound is a little larger than the English. Butter .. admirable butter .. at a shilling, halfpenny. We had a good turkey the day before yesterday, for which we paid four francs & a half .. three shillings & nine pence. It lasted our establishment two days. Coffee, the best, at 1s 8d Sugar is the dearest of everything .. dearer than in England, much,—& we pay for our lump sugar, eight pence a pound!– Bread, 3 sous .. three half pence .. the pound .. Do these prices exceed your Somersetshire ones? They are far below London certainly. I will tell you the amount of our expenses for the week we have kept house—including, observe, wine, candles (wax) & fuel for the kitchen:—two pounds, five or six– It is more I think, than we ought to pay, considering the prices of things—but then a beginning week is always more expensive, because there is everything to provide. We live very simply—have soup & one dish everyday—& the servants dine after us. Our situation is as good as can be, in a worldly sense—for instance, we have the prince of Capua [3] & his family next door. And though your apartment wd be high up, the staircase is very good & easy, and you are to understand that by many people it is considered rather an advantage than otherwise in Paris, to live up high. Well—you & Surtees must think it all over in your minds. Your apartment will be engaged for three weeks (probably from the end of this week) by Robert’s father & sister who come to pay us a visit. If you come the healthfulness of the position will be advantageous to your baby– Ours gets more appetite & a deeper red in his cheeks every day.
Shall I tell you why Altham was feverish? Simply because you were agitated in your sympathy with Surtees. Altham, in his turn, sympathized, as in duty bound, with you.
Now I shall surprise you by telling you with whom we were talking of you in this room yesterday– Guess.
With aunt Jane, uncle Hedley, & Ibbit– Oh—they astounded me so & made my heart turn round in its place, by the sudden sight of them!– They had heard from Arlette (whom by the way I have not yet seen) of our address, & came to us straight. They had been three weeks in Paris, & somebody had told them we had gone to Versailles!—some inventive person! Yes—and they have come to live in Paris—in their old apartment in the Faubourg St Honorè .. which they are furnishing at leisure—for they have brought their furniture from Tours & given it up for ever, to aunt Jane’s immense delight. Of course I am very glad indeed. Ibbit looks as if she were just born out of roses,—so fresh & lovely & innocent. She told me that she would have liked to go to England, but accepts Paris joyfully in exchange for Tours. Aunt Jane looks well but much older than when I saw her last, I think– You know that was six years ago—a long while. Still as everybody in England looked to me rather younger than when I left them, six years cant mean much after all– And she had preserved her beauty so wonderfully up to six years ago. Yet she looks well, with that sweet smile!
Where do you think we are going tonight? To a “reception” at Lady Elgin’s. There’s a beginning for you. You see I shant be able to go out at night much later in the year; we would not neglect this opportunity. Aunt Jane tells us it is one of the “best houses” in Paris—she knows her well—& that we are likely to meet various of the french ‘celebritès’ there. Which was just our reason for wishing to go. We had a letter of introduction to her from a friend of Robert’s, and she wrote me the kindest note .. nothing could be kinder .. asking us to “her Mondays,” & to this Monday in particular. She receives from eight to twelve. We shall go at half past nine & stay an hour perhaps. One dresses up to the throat, as in Italy, but with the head bare, they tell me.
Oh, I forgot to tell you! the washing is moderate– Robert pays twopence halfpenny for a shirt, for instance. Our washing bill this week is five shillings & sixpence. Also, if you come, you must bring your own household linen & silver. We had worn out what we had in Italy, so left the remains behind us—so we had to buy in London some five pounds worth of everything—but we bought two pairs of cotton sheets for the servant here, & gave a nothing for them. Perhaps enough of the sort might have been bought cheaper here. We bought also knives & forks for kitchen uses here, very cheaply, & we might lend you some of them. Our plate, we feared the custom house, à bout, [4] & left behind, but they are to be sent to us through the Rothchilds, somehow.
Wiedeman says ‘diner’ already instead of “dinner” which he learnt in England. He will add french, I suppose, to other of his Babelisms, poor darling. For the rest, he improves in talking very much—& all his latent Italian seems to be coming out into articulation– For instance, he was looking at the picture of a little boat the other day, & I asked him what it was– He answered, “dondola” .. gondola .. directly– He had remembered from the Venice time. He can write “ti amo” [5] now, & made a picture of me the other day, holding a parasol, which really had a human semblance in it. The balloons go up close to this house to his ineffable joy. Yesterday as one was floating upwards over his head, he turned round to Wilson with great gravity, & observed to her that it was “going to God.” I heard him crying tremendously just now, & rushed into his room to know if leg or arm were broken. No—he only wanted … a pocket made in his frock!– There’s a child for you. But he is good & sweet! Not a touch of malice or obstinacy in his whole nature.
So very glad I am that Arabel is gone anywhere from London, though I would not choose Kinnersley for her or myself– It will be dull in many ways, & not highly sympathetical in one perhaps. Still, the change is good. Perhaps Bummy will come to Paris this winter—likely enough, that is. Think of poor Arlette having to pay at the custom house for two shawls which had been in her possession five years! It was a disadvantage to her to be in company with Mrs Davidson, [6] who travels, it is said, with a ‘splendid wardrobe’. You know that they are on their way to Florence.
Uncle Hedley said that Mr Adair [7] had lost the use of his legs, & was unfit for giving votes in public. Ah—Henrietta—I always despaired for you. Mr Fox seemed to think you had no chance—so much experience is considered desireable for a man in that situation. Robert says that the election will in any case have done the good of making Surtees extensively known, & that many will be naturally interested in him by his manly bearing under this severe disappointment, & anxious to help him to any future advantage which may occur. [8] Keep up your spirits, both of you—you for him, and he for himself, .. and God bless you both– Robert’s love to Surtees, with mine.
I have written you a letter “de menage” [9] this time, I think, .. but I wanted you to know the facts of the case. We get very good wine (what I call “good” & what Robert calls “by no means bad,”) for five pence or six pence a bottle. The wine is very little dearer than in Italy. We drink a bottle a day in our household. My cough I may speak of as vanished. The climate does beautifully so far, but a time of trial has not come. We have not had fires yet, so I cant tell you of the price—(they burn charcoal in the kitchen)—but we hear that by a judicious mixture of coal & wood, you have a warm fire at no great cost– Kiss Baby for me tenderly, & tell me all about him. Arabel Bevan still nurses her child [10] & gives him no other food. How do you get on? Love me my beloved Henrietta, & believe how I love you from the roots of my heart–
Your attached
Ba.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 143–144 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. The day is supplied by EBB’s reference to “a ‘reception’ at Lady Elgin’s,” which she attended on 20 October (see the second paragraph in letter 2971).
2. The manuscript of the first part of this letter has not been located. The source of the portion within angle brackets is a copybook made by Surtees Cook (ms at ABL/Altham). Examination of the extant letter indicates that two pages are missing and that Surtees copied only about a quarter of the text from these pages. Based on EBB’s comments in the penultimate paragraph, the missing section probably referred to Surtees’s unsuccessful bid for the office of Keeper of Wilton Gaol (see note 8 below).
3. Charles Ferdinand de Bourbon (1811–62), son of Francis I and brother of the Grand Duchess of Tuscany (see letter 2937, note 6). He married Penelope Caroline Smyth (1815–82) of Co. Waterford, Ireland, in 1836 at Gretna Green. They had two children: Francesco (1837–62) and Vittoria (1838–95).
4. “In the end.”
5. “I love you.”
6. Susan Hussey Elizabeth Davidson (1794–1877), youngest daughter of Henry James Jessup and his wife Anna Maria Bowes (daughter of the 9th Earl of Strathmore). In 1824 she married John Davidson (1797–1841) of West Otterburn, a gentleman of some wealth. Their seat was Ridley Hall, Northumberland.
7. Alexander William Adair (1791–1863) of Heatherton Park, near Taunton. He and his wife Harriet Eliza (née Atkinson, 1811–78) and their family, close friends of the Hedleys, are frequently mentioned in Surtees’s journal and the Cooks’ correspondence.
8. Surtees Cook had failed to obtain the office of Keeper of Wilton Gaol. The Taunton Courier of 15 October 1851 (p. 4) contained the following item:
“Keeper of Wilton Gaol—The appointment to this office, vacant by the death of Mr. James Gane, occupied a considerable portion of yesterday’s proceedings. A number of candidates offered themselves on this occasion, and, after much discussion, the following names were proposed and seconded—each of the magistrates, in so doing, stating the claims and qualifications of the individuals on whose behalf they came forward. The result of the poll was as follows:—
Oakley, 48; Kennedy Capt., 26; West Mr., 13; Cook Capt., 6; Mackenzie (Commander), 5; Forrest Capt., 2; Stevens Capt., 1
The list having been reduced by withdrawing the three last names, a second poll ensued, when the numbers were—Oakley, 56; Kennedy Capt., 39
Mr. Oakley was, accordingly, declared duly elected. The salary is to be henceforth reduced to £220. The unusual number of one hundred and thirteen magistrates were present.”
It was reported in The Bristol Mercury of 18 October 1851 that Surtees’s nomination was seconded by Andrew Crosse, a friend of John Kenyon’s. The election winner William Oakley (1818–80) had previously served as chief of police in Bath (see The Morning Chronicle, 20 October 1851, p. 1).
9. “About housekeeping.”
10. Reginald Johnstone Bevan; see letter 2909, note 5.
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