2992. EBB to Henrietta Cook
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 17, 225–231.
[Paris]
Jany 5 [1852] [1]
My beloved Henrietta, I cant let the year pass from its first days without saying a word of love to you & sending a token of the affectionate wishes which are warm at my heart for you & yours. God bless all three of you, & bring us together in joy, often in the course of the beginning year. God bless the darling from his silver head to his dimpled feet, & bless you both in him, with the sight of his budding life more & more from day to day & month to month. And how have you all spent this Christmas?
As to Paris, I give you up Henrietta! I have no longer the least bit of hope in you. You take in the Times and believe in St Bartholomew massacres, bloody despotisms, & various dreadful things of that sort. [2] I say nothing against anything. After all you may like London better,—& really it is on my conscience to be the means of diminishing my poor darling Arabel’s few holiday hours .. the brightest of which might be spent in your society. Oh no—I say nothing. It is best perhaps on the whole that you should go to London.
The Parisians meanwhile are thinking chiefly it seems to me, of Te Deums, & less solemn fêtes in the street for the “jour de l’an”. [3] Robert could scarcely get along the boulevards the day before yesterday, for the fair-booths and the crowd of gazers & gala-keepers. But we have had some bitterly cold weather, & I have not enjoyed my Christmas as much as my neighbours I must candidly confess– For two days & a half we had fog again last week, mixed up with frost,—& although it was a bright fleecy fog, not like the yellow London monster, I felt it very much indeed. Fogs are rare things in Paris—but the cold, altogether this year, has been perfectly unusual, every one tells us. Uncle Richard has lived here eight years & felt nothing of the kind, he says—& all witnesses unite in the same asseveration. Unfortunate, we have really been. Still, I was out on the tenth of December—out walking:—so you may understand how mild it was then & afterwards. Now, too, the weather is brilliant, quite lovely– I must draw the curtains to prevent the sun’s putting out the fire, & then open both doors for air– This house is peculiarly warm, & on the least temptation is apt to grow over-warm. But I cant venture to leave it, let the weather be ever so mild, just at present– I must take care of myself & get back my voice, for I have suffered a rude ‘coup de pistolet’ [4] in the cold we have escaped from. The comfort is, that my darling Wiedeman is flourishing like a rose, overflowing with spirits like a fountain—Mrs Butler (Tom’s wife) said the other day that “it was a pleasure to see a child looking so well.” And Henrietta, you never will call him a “spoilt child”—I mean in the bad sense of being spoilt .. when you come to know him. Never was a sweeter temper, a more sunny fragrant little soul, in the world!– Once in his life he was “punished” by being put into a room by himself—oh, I [5] did’nt do it, Henrietta .. you are not to praise me .. Wilson did it out of her own head when I was out of the way, two months ago. She put him into the dining room by himself—& half a moment afterwards he was exclaiming, “O Lili, Lili! Peninni, buono.” [6] Then she opened the door & he was as good as possible. Ever since .. talk of putting him into a room by himself, .. & it’s quite enough to produce a fit of repentance. Indeed he cant bear to be called naughty .. a “naughty boy .. at all– He always cries out, & generally with sobs, “no, boy .. no boy! Peninni buono, buono.”—kissing you to convince you.
Poor Peninni, however, vexed me very much by an unseasonable paroxysm of shyness on new year’s eve .. when he was invited to a Christmas tree at Miss Fitton’s——did I tell you that, I wonder? Robert yielded the point to me against his own sensible convictions, & we were at ever so much expense in buying him a black velvet frock, & broad blue satin ribbons for the sleeves, shoes with blue rosettes &c &c—& he looked perfectly lovely, & went away at half past seven with Wilson, to spend half an hour. Directly the drawing room door was thrown open .. there was an end!– A sudden terror siezed him. The brilliant lights & crowd of people .. for it was a mixed party of grown up people & children, (which I had not understood) .. seemed to strike him back, & he sobbed his little heart out with cries to go to “Mama”. Wilson had to bring him back on the spot, & he & I had to suffer our disgrace as we best might, Robert being very generous, I must confess, & forbearing to overwhelm me with his “I said so”. After all the velvet frock will be useful. I always meant to get one for him, & it is made large & long-waisted,—very long-waisted. When the spring comes he can walk out in it with a polka to match.
Henrietta, I have kept an account this last year of Wiedeman’s & my expenses in dress, & I am surprised to find how much has been spent. I ask myself if you would be likely to think it unreasonable. Seventeen pounds (English) for myself, and seven for Baby. [7] It includes of course the making of gowns &c &c—: and then I should tell you that as, when I married, my wardrobe was of the smallest, I had completely worn it out, & had to refit altogether this year:—underlinen, stockings, petticoats, gowns[,] collars .. everything bought new:—and I may say the same for Wiedeman. We have been reclothed from head to foot, both of us.
Tom Butler has arrived with his boy, as during the child’s holidays, the father & mother manage to endure one another’s society. Tom has been very ill in England, & looked to my eyes ten years older than when I saw him last summer, alarmingly altered, & thin, though the worst is over, he told me, & now he is ordered animal food three times a day, to recover strength. It has been an attack on the chest—a bad thing, considering the constitutional tendencies of the Butlers. He arrived in Paris on one of the very worst of our cold days—but he said that he left London just as cold, only with the addition of a fog which made it necessary to light the lamps in the public offices.
Aunt Jane & Ibbit were at Miss Fitton’s that evening, besides the governess & little girls. For the first time, Robert admired Ibbit—thought her looking very handsome. She & aunt Jane were the only two women in the room dressed low .. decolletées. I suppose they keep to the English fashion—& it is becoming to Ibbit, as her complexion is her chief beauty. Aunt Jane had been dining out at some English house. I have not seen much of Ibbit, but I cant think her comparable to Arabel Bevan, though an undeniably lovely creature. You will think it strange—but none of the Hedleys do seem to me in great spirits:—they are grave, & this strikes me in Ibbit, because I knew her so different. Aunt Jane was here yesterday & told me that they had not been at all “gay” but were about to be so:—were to begin by going to “two balls this week”– Robert has not met her once at Lady Elgin’s– That sort of society may not be considered ‘good for much’ as far as Ibbit is concerned, & I dare say aunt Jane thinks chiefly of her– She told me that uncle Hedley “had at last forgiven her for forcing him to leave Tours”—an act of resolution on which she more & more congratulates herself, as Paris agrees with him infinitely better: he required, she says, lighter air & more society. He is well, & appears perfectly consoled. Also, they are delighted with their apartment. Robin has gone back to Dublin.
Jany. 6.
Dearest dear Henrietta, how glad I am that I was too late for the post with this letter yesterday. Now I have yours, & can answer it, not crosswise. Thank you!
Dearest Henrietta, I dont accuse you of “cowardice” .. only of .. timidity. I dont think by any means that you are afraid of Louis Napoleon’s swallowing Altham at a mouthful—you are simply, as you say, afraid of having to run away, .. or of being sent away, which would be “an enormous expense.” Well—I cant answer for Mrs Robert Martin’s [8] “friends,” .. or what they may have done to be “treated roughly” .. or what being “treated roughly,” means .. whether it refers to the exact verification of their passports, or the search to the bottom of their portmanteaus for cigars. I cant pretend to guess the head & front of this mystery. But I may assure you solemnly, that knowing far too much of the English society here, & having heard from every quarter, every evil invention & exaggeration against the present state of things, I have not yet heard that the most timid woman thought it, fancied it, or dreamt it, in the possibilities of “the cards,” that she should have to run away, or be sent away, or any other tremendous contingency of the kind. Why, my dearest Henrietta, at the time you talked of coming here then was the time of uncertainty. Then, we all knew, that something must happen, quietly or unquietly. But now, .. for the next year or two at least, affairs are settled. The funds are at a hundred & four [9] —& commerce improving on all sides. As to Paris, it’s a city of fairs just now—brilliant with sunshine & gaiety.– I just state these facts, .. but not to persuade you to change your mind by any means. Indeed I do think, that Mrs Cook has the first claim, & Arabel the second, and though one must sigh to give you up, it is far better that I should have to sigh than either of those two– So,—delighted I shall be to hear of you settled in London. As to Taunton, I shall wonder if you go back there for the summer. You gain nothing there, it seems to me, except on the point of cheapness, which might be conciliated with more agreeable conditions of life elsewhere. But summer is a long way off– We shall meet somehow I dare say—perhaps in England– Only not in January, Henrietta, thank you–
I think I am a little better—the cough vexes me less certainly. As to the voice, with patience, it will make way again. The weather is splendid. I wish we were rich enough to go south every winter for a few months—but one might as well wish for “black puddings,” [10] & perhaps as wisely. How do you mean that we are “much richer” than you? We have a less income than yours, as a regular income,—only money comes in to us unawares sometimes from books. Robert has received his fifty pounds, for instance, from Moxon, [11] which are extremely welcome, I can assure you.
Oh no, no, Henrietta. I never thought of sending Wiedeman to that Christmas jubilee “by himself.” Why how could you fancy such a thing? That baby!– No– Wilson went with him, as well as Robert, in the carriage,—& Wilson was to have gone with him into the drawingroom & stayed while he stayed. But she & he lingered in the anti [sic] room, she combing out his curls, while Robert went in. And he did not catch sight of Robert in the crowd when the door opened. “Papa, no,” was one of his exclamations between sobs– Poor little angel. His shyness is capricious. He is not afraid of the soldiers for instance, & shouted out “Viva Peone” [12] in at the president’s carriage-window the other day.
Also, I must explain that on the aforesaid dreadful thursday, .. the fighting thursday … Wilson took him out, meaning to keep close to this house– But by degrees, everything being apparently tranquil, they walked towards the end of the Champs Elysées,—& it was there that a frightened man, (not a soldier) begged Wilson to turn back for fear of what might happen. Because, you see, the streets of Paris are very open, and the cannons come in a sweep. Oh, I am not so mad as to send my child into danger, I can assure you. It was safe enough.
Very probably your child’s hair will curl, Henrietta. I used to think Wiedeman’s would not curl– You must wait till it gets a little longer. Now I am going to send you another piece of advice. Dont set him up to stand—it is dangerous. Leave him to pull himself up, & beware of throwing a premature weight upon the little legs which may bend in consequence. He is a heavy child, &, just for this reason, it is still more dangerous. Oh—be patient– I hope he will walk long enough on this earth, not to hasten the movement. Let him sit & lie & kick as much as he likes. We used to give Wiedeman soup at his age .. soup made out of the legs of chickens—he had it for a year, once or twice a day .. with vermicelli, which is very good for children. Wiedeman did’nt cut his eyeteeth till he was fifteen & sixteen months old. He had eight other teeth first, & I think one or two of his double teeth. The little Russian Princess who is his friend, & is one month younger than himself (though much taller & larger than he is) has only one double tooth yet. Think of that! Altham is very forward, if he says “Mama” meaning it. Wiedeman used to call everybody Mama, at his age– What a deep-sounding word! Yes, indeed—it has music– For months & months, my heart used to beat faster at hearing it—& even now, it thrills through me sometimes like the voice of an angel–
What am I to “sympathize” with Mr Bennett in? [13] in rebelling against his bishop, which, according to his own principles, was wrong? in leading numbers of persons, more logical than himself, straight into popery? or in getting another living, when he does’nt deserve it? No—really, Henrietta, .. I cant “sympathize” with Mr Bennett– ‘Not a jot, not a jot’! He may be a conscientious man, but he is inconsistent & dangerous,—and I wish with my whole heart that His Holiness the pope had made him a cardinal & kept him in the Roman states. That’s my new year’s wish for him.
I should have told you that Ibbit Jane did play at the Hedleys that night—but there was nothing in the way of music worth recording– She plays well, I hear—but not remarkably well in these musical times. We have no piano yet, but talk of having one. You can get one for ten francs .. 8s 4d .. a month, I understand.
I had heard nothing of the “partner”– What partner, do you mean? [14] Ah—yes—it is sad indeed. Poor dearest Papa–
How do you like the idea of Lizzy’s being stationary in Wimpole Street! For some reasons, it wd be an advantage to Arabel, but the <…> [15] we <…> course .. may <…> it’s society, not <…> Robert likes Paris very much <…>
God bless you all <…> in love & affectionate wishes .. & heaps of kisses to the darling.
Your ever attached
Ba–
This time I remember to <send> the autograph you ask for your friend. You wanted something from Casa Guidi, did’nt you?
Address: Angleterre. / Mrs Surtees Cook / Taunton / Somersetshire.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 151–154 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. An editorial in The Times of 8 December 1851 contained the following pronouncement: “Speaking within the limits of historical truth, and upon the evidence of many eyewitnesses of these events, we affirm that the bloody and treacherous deeds of the 4th of December will be remembered with horror in the annals even of that city which witnessed the massacre of St. Bartholomew and the Reign of Terror” (p. 4).
3. “New year’s day.”
4. “Pistol shot.”
5. Underscored twice.
6. “Good.”
7. EBB recorded these expenditures in the Brownings’ address book for this period (AB-3); see Appendix IV, p. 407.
8. Mary Anne Martin (1807–92), daughter of John Biddulph, London banker and prominent citizen of Ledbury, and his wife Augusta (née Roberts), had married in 1837 Robert Martin (1808–97), a nephew of EBB’s friend James Martin. During the Moulton-Barrett’s Hope End days, EBB, Bro, and Henrietta were often invited to the Biddulphs’ for dinners and other social occasions. Henrietta and Surtees had stayed a week with the Biddulphs in June 1850 (see letter 2854, note 5).
9. The Daily News of 7 January 1852 reported that the “French Five per Cent. Rentes [i.e., annuities, or funds],” were selling on the 6th for “104f. 50c. and 104f.” (p. 7).
10. An allusion to the English fairy tale “The Three Wishes,” in which a woodman wishes for a black pudding.
11. For RB’s introductory essay in the forthcoming edition of Shelley’s letters, which was published on 14 February 1852; see letter 2937, note 4.
12. “Long live Peone [i.e., Napoleon].”
13. William James Early Bennett (1804–86), first incumbent of St. Paul’s Knightsbridge in Wilton Place from 1840–50, was a strong advocate of Anglo-Catholic teachings and practices. In December 1850 he was forced to resign by the Bishop of London because of the protests of anti-ritualists. Soon thereafter, the Dowager Marchioness of Bath offered him the vicarage of Frome Selwood in Somerset, which he accepted, remaining there until his death.
14. We are unable to explain EBB’s remarks about a “partner.”
15. The letter is continued on the inside flap of the envelope, which has been damaged, resulting in loss of text here and below.
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