3235. EBB to Henrietta Cook
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 19, 190–196.
Casa Tolomei
(Alla Villa)
Bagni di Lucca– Italia
July 26– [1853] [1]
My beloved Henrietta,
It seems to me that my chief occupation is writing letters. I am the most virtuous of my sex in that respect, & though you complain, Henrietta, for your part, yet I know, for mine, that you have all the news just as if it always went to you directly. Nevertheless & notwithstanding the long letter I sent to George only a few days ago, I feel myself drawn to write to you– I owe you a letter, & you are so gentle in your reproaches that they have all the sharper edges. Oh Henrietta, I wish you & yours were here. How Altham might ride about on the donkeys with Penini! How you would enjoy the mountains, the exquisite scenery!—so wild, that even the grand Ducal court, to say nothing of the Duke of Parma’s & the King of Saxony’s [2] cant tame it down! By the way, think of the Grand Duke’s being domiciled in our old house at the top of the mountain, [3] and of Penini’s nursery being one of the drawing rooms. The rooms of that house were very small even for us—we are much more at large here! I understand that the court has to go to another house to dine. They take it very rustically. And I commend their taste in the matter of the house because of the magnificent situation which of course constitutes the whole attraction. “I did not think the old man had so much blood in him.” [4] One need’nt alter the quotation to make it apply, though he is’nt an old man in years exactly—but care & fear & the sense of treason have blanched every hair in his head & cut his face up into furrows. So best.
I am not easy about our dearest Arabel– She sent me the smallest of notes in a letter of Mr Kenyon’s, & it seemed to me that she was much out of spirits in writing it. Oh– I do earnestly hope & entreat that George or Henry will speak & manage to get her out of town this summer. I am convinced it is necessary for her to go. The sort of life she leads is most injurious to mind & body, & the fact of her not desiring a change only masks the more her great need of it– Entreat them from me to get her away. The more anxious I am, because next summer we shall be in London, if we are alive, & then, neither she nor I shall like her going away. Whatever can be done, should be done now, therefore. She should go to the sea, not into the country. The sea would be excellent for her, & to the sea she ought to go—anywhere to the sea—it would not be dearer than any other place, surely. I think she must have written at length to me before now—but not a letter has been sent after us from the Florence post office, & I am a little in despair about it. These Italian post offices are untrustworthy. Robert is writing however to Mr Lytton to get him to enquire into the matter—also to tell him that we have a bedroom at his service if he likes to come down to us for a breath of mountain air. It was agreed on in Florence that he should come, if we could find room for him. I only wish we could spend our advantages on nearer & dearer persons. He is a great favorite of ours—but we would rather have … George, for instance! A few days after our arrival, Mr & Mrs Story (he is the son of Judge Story) old American friends of ours whom we knew before Penini was born, [5] & whom we took to be in Rome, rushed into the room to our great astonishment. They have two children .. a boy, six years old, & a girl eight. [6] Penini had them as guests last week “in mine garden,” in the arbour, where tea & cake & fruit were properly prepared. When everybody had taken a seat, he came with a nosegay, & out of his own head laid a flower by everybody’s plate. Was’nt it pretty of the child? The hospitality was returned yesterday evening,—& Penini travelled on a donkey, on a spanish saddle, to the Bagni Caldi, where the Storys live, & returned between nine & ten in the dark & in the extremest state of joyous excitement. We could’nt get him to cease talking. “I felt a little aflaid at the Storys, when I went first,—but after, not a bit—oh no!” Edith had given him a book & he must write in it “Penini, from Edith”, before he could go to bed. I said I could’nt attend to him .. I had to pour out Papa’s tea. “Nemmer mind!” he (Penini) would do it by himself. I was only to help him in the spelling while I had tea. When that was accomplished we had a long history about Edith’s silkworms & Joe’s toys .. everything described in detail .. and how the donkey went “velly fast,” and how, the next time, he must have “a man’s saddle,” and how he would “lite to lide a dontey wiz a man’s sallel evelly day.” That was the last audible sentiment as he dropped off asleep—but alas, this morning, even the spanish saddle has left certain undignified effects,—& he finds it more convenient to sit on “Lily’s knee” than on the chairs. You see it was a two miles ride,—& going up & down steep hills is more fatiguing than to ride on a flat road. He is the happiest of children here. In the first place, our new servant, Ferdinando, is his bosom-friend & it seems to be a mutual passion. “Ferdinando, dove voi?” [7] makes the house ring at all hours of the day. Then there’s a boy called Carlino[,] the son of our landlord, [8] who helps Ferdinando to fish with a net in the river, & to whom Penini carries his books down, & other treasures. This boy is another friend. It’s pretty to hear Penini chattering Italian, using his opportunities. To talk Italian or English is much the same to him—he does’nt stop for a word in either language & is equally ungrammatical everywhere. He & Ferdinando & Wilson go down to the river every morning to make Flush swim, & these baths are doing Flush an infinite deal of good already, besides the pleasure they give to the spectators. It’s a riotous little river, as clear as chrystal, leaping & singing among the rocks—rather a mountain-stream, indeed, than a river at all! Penini wants sometimes to go in after Flush. He is’nt easily frightened, that child! I heard a tustle [sic] between him & Wilson this morning, &, on enquiring the reason of it, found that he was trying to get her to throw him out of the window into Ferdinando’s arms below. It was only a first floor, to be sure!—but just think of the child!– “He’s frightened of nothing & nobody,” said Wilson, who was in a fright herself at the idea of such a thing!
Our house turns away its face from the rest of the village & looks up the mountain, through plane-trees & garden. Its a very convenient house Illus. thus, the first floor—down stairs, kitchen, scullery, servants sitting & dining rooms. Everything as complete as possible for comfort. Less than eleven pounds for more than thirteen weeks. We have had an offer too for our house at Florence, but Robert wdnt accept the terms proposed. We like our new servant very much—though he has not been accustomed to have everything in his hands as our custom is to leave it– Mrs Peyton was constantly in the kitchen, giving directions, he says—& that’s by no means a way of mine, you know. Still we get on—he is an excellent cook—makes soups & creams & iced puddings & pastry to our uttermost satisfaction, & is’nt expensive, I hope .. to judge by the beginning. Then he is a respectable-looking servant, & most good-natured (which weighs much with me) to Penini .. carrying him about & helping to spoil him. Nobody can help liking Penini, .. that’s true. You can’t think how here as elsewhere he is admired .. people stopping to ask whose child he is. His sweep of golden ringlets & his infantine grace catch the eyes of people—& no wonder. If his hair is out of curl, Henrietta, it’s a sign that he is not well—otherwise, neither heat nor damp will uncurl it, & it grows thicker, which is satisfactory. It is washed once a week—not oftener because of the drying taking so much time—but as he is in a bath every morning there will be of course a little damping of the hair in the process. I like to hear that Altham says ‘dear mama,’ ‘dear papa’—for Penini nearly always says it .. only when he means to be most affectionate, he says “mine darling.” He never forgets his benediction at night .. “I hope Dod will tate tare of mama & papa.” We would’nt miss it for the world.
Now, Henrietta, I do hope your little Mary will be like you & not like Altham. Because Altham is like Surtees & not you & it’s only fair that the other side of the house should have its turn. Then, although I do all honour to Altham’s attractions, Ii [9] dont want a duplicate Altham. Pray let us have a little variety. Ah yes—it’s a great blessing to a child to have another child to love—& it must be sweet & lovely to see those two children together playing & loving at the open door of life. Do you know what Penini said to Robert about a month ago?– “Dear papa .. I want a baby velly mush. Evelly body asks Lily if I dot no boy to play wiz, and Lily obliged to say no.” It was a very serious representation of disadvantages.
While I am in the midst of this letter, comes one to me from Mr Lytton, from Florence. “As a proof of friendship” he encloses to me one from his father on the subject of the spirit-manifestations, which has affected him so deeply that he writes briefly on other subjects. I am forbidden to shew the letter .. I must not tell the contents. Nothing can be more curious. The communications refer to very private circumstances & touching circumstances, in which the idea of “trickery” is absolutely out of the question– But, after all, Sir Edward does not conclude absolutely on the agency being that of deceased persons .. he doubts whether the spirits may not be “analogous to genii or fairies”—he has even a theory about clairvoyance. He concludes nothing absolutely on the character of the agency, but he excludes all notion of imposture .. which indeed is perfectly impossible, whatever else may be possible. To my mind, the communications of all these spirits appear strictly of a human character, & I see no sufficient reason for doubting that they are spirits who have lived in the flesh. The manifestations are deepening & widening however, day by day, & we shall know more presently. Mr Lytton says he “hopes he may live to see the great day which is opening on the world”—he does not question the character of the agency as much as his father does. Neither do I, as I said before. We read of a prophecy concerning “angels ascending & descending upon the son of man”. [10] What if this spiritual influx & afflux is beginning? It seems to me probable—but we have to wait quietly & see. Mr Story told us some curious things which had happened at Rome. He himself can move tables, he says, yes, & men—but I shall see tomorrow, when he & his wife come to drink tea with us. At Rome there has been a good deal of the mystical handwriting—only I cant tell you in this letter. I dare say you all, in Wimpole street generally & in Taunton particularly, set me down as raving mad, while I consider myself more rational than any of you. Certainly the evidence has come to me closer, & therefore stronger than it has to you—still, it ought to have force with you also, because I have been accurate in my relations though unable of course to say everything. When we left Florence people were talking about a fact which I could’nt get at the root of, &, on that account, do not send to you as strictly historical. There was a scientific man in Florence some ten years ago, a Greek called Segato [11] who made a valuable discovery of a mode of preserving anatomical preparations by petrifaction. The government was in treaty with him for the purchase of this secret, but before the treaty cd be concluded, he died suddenly, & the knowledge was lost. The story in Florence is now that an American lady, a medium, has communicated with the spirit of Segato & obtained the secret from him. We were just going, & I could not learn the name of the lady or the confirmatory particulars .. &, till I do, of course you are not asked to believe anything about it– It passes with me for nothing, till I hear more. I begged Mr Lytton to ascertain for me what he could—meanwhile that’s the story! If there’s anything in it, it will come out. We had it from Mr Kirkup who had it from his physician, [12] a scientific & sceptical man who considered it a fact. It’s a curious state of the public mind when such stories can be told by grave men as facts, with or without foundation. That’s all I conclude on it.
You will take some comfort, Henrietta, respecting my mental position, when I tell you that we have just been paying nearly two pounds English for seats in the English church here during the next two months—for ourselves & Wilson– [13] The fact is there is no other place of protestant worship, &, as it is close by, we did not like to stay away. Wilson goes in the morning, and Robert & I in the evening. The clergyman [14] is, what is usually called, evangelical—& a very good man, I believe. He gave us a sermon last sunday which Arabel would have liked & which Robert liked extremely for the doctrine of it, & which I liked in part– The Christian sympathy & communion is good always–
July 27. You remember Mrs Stisted’s name as a visitor to the Knowles’s [15] years ago. She knew aunt Jane very well in Italy, & she lives here,—has a pretty villa, and is called by friends & enemies, the ‘queen of Lucca.’ A dreadful woman for lions & lionesses, .. whom we are frightened of—at least I am—& wish myself away from at the top of the mountain. I have escaped driving in her carriage tonight, I hope .. but she is coming to us to take coffee– Oh, an excellent person, I believe, at bottom—that is, at the bottom of the heart.
The Storys were here last night– He did not try the tables—moved a book, very unsatisfactorily, because a push wd have done the same .. “wrote” .. what he “thought might be out of his own mind”. Said I to him, “I cant believe you, if you dont believe yourself.” The arm was not numb– To my mind, he has not the faculty at all,—though probably he is a good mesmerist–
Penini prayed yesterday morning that God might “mate him dood anoller day, and tate him on a dontey!” .. a synopsis of spiritual & worldly prosperity according to his best aspirations. Poor child! the donkey did not come at the hour it was ordered, after all, & he had the mortification of meeting the royal children riding on it– [16] “Dear Mama, what you sint? The Lan Dute tate mind dontey!” .. Very impertinent of the Grand Duke indeed! But as he took the people’s constitution first, one cant wonder much.
Penini is to have the donkey today. He is the happiest of children here–
Dearest Henrietta, tell me all about the darlings. Robert’s best love to both of you.
How are you doing in respect to the nursing? Dont hurt yourself, mind!
I wish Arabel wd send me Mary Ruskin’s [17] address, as I want to write to her about prices in Florence &c– You know she is coming to Italy for the winter. Write to me, dearest dear Henrietta! I want to hear from you– It seems to me that I write nearly all the letters– God bless you & Surtees & the treasures! If Susan is with you still, my love to her.
Your ever attached Ba–
I was on a donkey yesterday .. no, the day before .. Think of me in a straw Swiss hat after that fashion– Illus. People wear them so here—& Robert & Wilson made me have it– Price 3. shillings.
Address: Angleterre viâ France / Mrs Surtees Cook / Wilton / Taunton / Somersetshire.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 187–191 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. Friedrich August II (1797–1854), King of Saxony (1836–54), eldest son of Maximilian, Crown Prince of Saxony, and his wife Carolina (1770–1804). As RB indicated earlier, the former Duke of Parma was expected at Bagni di Lucca; see letter 3227, note 25.
3. Casa Valeri in Bagni Caldi, where the Brownings stayed from 30 June to 17 October 1849.
4. Cf. Macbeth, V, 1, 39–40.
5. The Storys and Brownings had met in Florence during the winter of 1848–49; see letters 2761 and 2767.
6. Edith Marion (1844–1917) and Joseph (1847–53).
7. “Ferdinando, where are you going?”
8. Pietro Tolomei (b. 1799), landowner and teacher of Italian to the English in Bagni di Lucca. According to an 1853 church census in Bagni di Lucca, he and his second wife Apollonia (née Tognini), had two children: Paolina (b. 1839) and Carlo (b. 1842).
9. Underscored twice.
10. Cf. John 1:51.
11. Girolamo Segato (1792–1836), naturalist, cartographer, archaeologist, and inventor, was a native Italian, born in Sospirolo, near Belluno, and died at Florence. His method of preservation, described by EBB, remains largely a mystery to this day. Some of his specimens can be seen in Florence at the Museo Anatomico Fiorentino.
12. Unidentified.
13. The subscription book of the English Church at Bagni di Lucca for 1853 lists “Robt. Browning, Casa Tolomei; 26 July / 2 months; 2 adults, 1 servant.”
14. Henry Greene (1808–76), son of Jonas Greene (1767–1828), Recorder of Dublin, and his wife Mary (née Hitchcock), was British Chaplain at Pisa and Bagni di Lucca from 1846 to 1875.
15. Charles Henry Knowles (1754–1831), 2nd Baronet, and his wife Charlotte (née Johnstone, 1782–1867) were acquaintances from Hope End days who lived in Malvern (see letter 250, note 4). Clotilda Stisted dedicated her Letters from the Bye-Ways of Italy (1845) to Lady Knowles “in memory of our long friendship.”
16. Grand Duke Leopold II and his second wife, Maria Antonia, had ten children together, six of whom survived to adulthood. The youngest of these were Maria Louisa (1845–1917), Louis Salvator (1847–1915), and Johann Salvator (b. 1852).
17. Sic, for Ruxton’s.
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