3017. EBB to Henrietta Cook
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 18, 51–54.
138 Avenue des Ch. E.
March 3. [1852] [1]
My ever dearest Henrietta, God’s blessing be with you & brighten the whole year to you & many years beyond this. [2] I feel as if I had not acted after my heart in not writing to you long since, but you will have heard of me & how I have been anxious about Wiedeman, and you will have felt that my love for you was incapable of slackening or growing cold, whether I wrote or was silent. I congratulate you, dearest Henrietta .. and Surtees .. I congratulate both of you on the good piece of news you sent me. [3] I [4] wont condole with either of you, whatever long faces you may pretend to get up for the occasion. Not I. Not for financial reasons nor for any others, I assure you. Only I do hope you wont be sick of the world, Henrietta, for six months together, because that indeed would be terrible—and Arabel gives me some hope by seeming to say that you are a little better than you used to be. If I were you I would rather encourage the inclination towards animal food—as long as it is not of extreme pretensions, I have no doubt that the result is more useful than the tendency to fruit & vegetables. Only I would take very little wine– See how busy I am as privy-counsellor without being called to the office. It delights me that your darling should have borne his first reverse of fortune, .. the weaning .. with so much fortitude. Arabel is to write to me a full description of him .. & of you, & that will be the next best thing to seeing you, dear things!
Now I am sure you will care to hear about Wiedeman. He is a great deal better—has seen no more angels .. though he said yesterday that he should probably see another today .. (“Domani, [5] Peninni, less” .. yes) and has been so very slightly affected the two last nights that it would not arrest your attention if you were not bent on attending. Now there is no more laughing .. it is a slight convulsive thrill through the body, so slight as to be scarcely observable. Just as it seemed coming on yesterday morning, a mouse jumped off the bed with a crust of bread he had laid on his pillow, & this mouse created a most happy diversion from supernatural visions. He had no sort of return afterwards. If you were to see the child, you would agree that it would be foolish to make oneself unhappy about him. He looks rather better than usual, I think, since he has been an “invalid,” .. with spirits it’s impossible to put down, do what we can, & rosy mottled cheeks & clear eyes. The teeth are not through yet. I made a mistake in telling Arabel that the corner of one was through—neither tooth is through, but you feel the sharpness of one under the finger. When both are fairly emancipated, the system will lose a motive of irritation, of course. He cut all his other teeth with no affection of the kind, .. the only symptom formerly being a slight cold in the head for two or three days. This time there has been nothing of the sort, & I dare say he is the worse for it. Also when the spring has set in fairly & firmly I am sure he is likely to be benefitted by that, like most of us. Throughout this winter he has scarcely missed a day in going out to walk .. not more than three or four times in all .. & generally he has gone twice a day—because Robert has a great idea of the “hardening process,” & a just idea of the efficacy of the open air. After all, however, the child has an Italian constitution .. was nursed by a Tuscan nurse .. & used to a Tuscan climate during his life. He hates the cold, & never can be persuaded to walk when it is over cold. Dr Macarthy said accordingly that when the air is sharp we had better not send him out, as cold air was “likely to bring on the attack.” He said, “Italy is very good for children—he has had great advantages.” At the same time an Italian summer is too much of a good thing & always made him pale,—that’s certain—though Florence is perfect except for three months. Well—when the spring weather quite sets in, it will be good for him—and, for the rest, he never looked so well in his life, poor darling, as he has done since our residence in Paris. Wilson says that he can keep up with children seven years old in running, & that all the nurses, of whom there is a colony in these Champs Elysées, wonder at his activity & strength. Also his appetite is excellent, & his sleep tranquil– There cant be much harm, I think. Sometimes he is brimful of mischief– The other day, to Desirées extreme indignation, he upset the salt-cellar upon the turnips, and Robert told him he was “molto cattivo”. [6] Upon which his lips began to quiver directly, .. & I interfered & insisted on it that he meant to be “very good” on the contrary– “Go and kiss Papa,” said I—and off he ran, & kissed his coat, .. as high up as he could reach. The child is too susceptible—the least word overcomes him—though he thought it good fun to teaze Desirée. I really dont know a fault in his temper & disposition. Wilson always says he is perfect. There’s the spoiling system, Henrietta!—mark how little harm it has done! I thought once he would be very passionate—but no, there is no sort of violence, with all that vivacity. And he is so grateful for anything you do for him– When I was warming a flannel for his feet the other night, he looked at me & said, “Mamma, buona” .. Mama’s good– Was’nt it sweet of him? And when Wilson puts him on a clean pinafore, he always says “Thank you Lili,” “Grazie, Lili”—he never forgets his “Grazie” for anything done or given to him, poor little precious darling!——
I have just received a letter from dear George– Thank him for me, when you see him on wednesday, as he says you will .. but no .. how stupid I am!—this is wednesday. I am too late. Oh Henrietta—you will never guess what I am going to do tonight– I am going (by invitation) with Robert to see the first representation of George Sand’s new play at the Gymnase. She wrote us the kindest note possible three days since—here’s a part of it which I shall write out particularly for Arabel, because Arabel thinks she is’nt kind–
“Je ferai mon possible pour vous envoyer une loge, mais on en donne tant aux journalistes et si peu à l’auteur, que je suis forcée de prevoir le cas ou je n’aurais que deux fauteuils à vous offrir. Vous en contenteriez vous? ou preferiez vous une loge pour la seconde representation? Un mot de réponse.
À vous de cœur, ainsi qu’à monsieur Browning. [7]
George Sand.”
Of course we had expected nothing of the sort, & the acceptance was not to be doubted of. I told her in my answer that though I had been nowhere out of the house during the winter, I could not resist the temptation she offered me, & that we would gladly accept the two chairs. Since then, however, Robert & I talked it over, & agreed that, if the day happened to be cold, I would’nt “offer myself in sacrifice to idols,” not even to George Sand—& that he should go & take a friend with him in my stead. Happily we have beautiful weather– Yesterday I was out driving on the boulevards for an hour & a half—& today there is such a sunshine in addition to the south wind, that I have let down the green curtains, let out the fire, and am sitting in this room with the thermometer at sixty six, notwithstanding. Also, we are to go to see her again next friday. Very soon, she leaves Paris.
Lady Elgin is unwell, which delays the introduction to Lamartine & Thierry the historian– [8] She wishes to take Robert herself, or we would not wait for her .. as we hear that Lamartine is “particularly interested about both of us, & desirous of seeing us.”
Dearest dear Henrietta, how I yearn to do all the kissing myself, instead of sending this letter to kiss you. I must send it however at once—for I have been interrupted, & shall be too late for the post– God bless you, dearest, for ever & ever–
Mind you write & tell me about Arabel– That’s your duty, remember—or your kindness at least–
Love to Surtees. Kisses to the darling.
Your own attached Ba——
I cant read over– I am in such haste.
Entreat Arabel to write to me about herself– [9]
Said to be very becoming. Illus. Not worn in church of course.
Address: Care of Miss Tripsack / (Mrs Surtees Cook) / 26 Welbeck Street / Cavendish Square / London.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 155–156 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. 4 March 1852 was Henrietta’s 43rd birthday.
3. That Henrietta was pregnant, as EBB discussed with Arabella in letter 3003.
4. Underscored twice.
5. “Tomorrow.”
6. “Very bad.”
7. For a translation, see letter 3014.
8. Jacques Nicolas Augustin Thierry (1795–1856), French historian, whose works included Histoire de la conquête de l’Angleterre par les Normands (1825), Lettres sur l’histoire de France (1827), and Récits des temps mérovingiens (1840). Thierry’s eyesight began to fail early in his career, and by 1830 he was completely blind.
9. Underscored three times.
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