3310. EBB to Henrietta Cook
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 20, 41–47.
Rome. Via Bocca di Leone. 43.
Dec 30– [1853] [1]
I cant let the old year go without sending you a letter, my ever dearest Henrietta, though you will have heard of me through Arabel– We had a melancholy entrance into our Roman life but we are living past it, thank God, and I am beginning to revive & lift up my head .. which figure means .. get into good spirits again. All the invalids are convalescent (.. those who survived poor little Joe ..) and Edith has been told of her brother’s death & borne it well—too well, to tell you the truth, to please me. Penini felt it twice as deeply. Think of that child persisting to add to his prayers until quite a day or two ago, .. “Tate tare of Joe and put him wiz y angels, and mate y angels tate tare of him.” Not very strictly orthodox, you may say, but nobody would find it in heart or head to bid him not pray so– I forgot to tell Arabel that. He often goes to spend the day with poor Edith. The other morning he said to me “I wont say poor Edith no more, betause Edith better now.’[’] “Ah, but” I answered, “she has lost Joe.” “Yes,” said he again, “but still” (shaking his golden ringlets with an air of profound conviction) “Joe so much more glad to be wit God!” Once when he was playing with Edith she was opening the drawer & examining poor Joe’s old toys. Penini stood by in grave disapprobation—at last he said, “If you dont tate tare, Edith, you’ll have the angels tome to you”.
You may fancy how these four simultaneous cases of fever frightened me for Penini—but I dare say Rome is getting more healthy as the season advances & it grows colder. We are rather overwhelmed by visitors. I suppose they will drain off. We cant help people calling. Mr Thackeray on the other hand complains of dulness .. he is disabled from work by the dulness. He “cant write in the morning without his good dinner & two parties over night.” From such a soil spring the Vanity Fairs! He is an amusing man-mountain enough [2] & very courteous to us .. but I never should get on with him much, I think—he is not sympathetical to me. Mr & Mrs Walpole [3] have called since I wrote to Arabel—he is quite blind, carrying about a radiant face. (A brother of Lord Walpole’s.) Mr & Mrs Silsbee, Americans—have a daughter, a medium. [4] Mr & Mrs Thompson, Americans, .. have a child eight years old, a medium. [5] And others, whose names I cant recollect at this moment– Oh—there’s a house of what I call emancipated women—a young sculptress, American, Miss Hosmer, [6] a pupil of Gibson’s, very clever & very strange—and Miss Hayes [7] the translator of George Sand, who “dresses like a man down to the waist” (so the accusation runs)– Certainly there’s the waistcoat which I like .. and the collar & neckcloth, & jacket made with a sort of wag tail behind, which I dont like. She is a peculiar person altogether, decided, direct, truthful, it seems to me. They are both coming to us tonight, with Miss Blagden who occupies the apartment under theirs. [8] You do not know the last, but Arabel does, as a very affectionate friend of mine & very loveable on her own account. She devotes herself to a poor little invalid friend [9] whom she brought from England, & gave a grand soirée on the occasion of her birthday last monday. It was made a point of that Penini & I should go– Louisa was to “cry” if either of us refused. So very foolishly we both went. Penini was put to sleep at four to prepare him to wake at seven– Think of that child—the only child in a crowd of quadrillers. The dancing was as strange to me as to him, seeing that I have not been present at such an exhibition since some day in my teens beyond the memory of woman. Penini thought it “velly funny! just lite playing!” which, considering that the play-fellows were many of them greybearded men of the greyest order might have struck him as “velly funny” indeed. There were fire-works from the window, and a hornpipe danced by a man’s two fingers dressed up for the occasion– Some forty people present & not a child but Penini– He, as blithe as a bird till twelve oclock at night, & attracting everybody by his sweetness & grace. As I was putting on my shawl in the ante-room, prepared to go away, he ran back to our infinite amusement, into the crowd, & cried out at the top of his voice “Dood night–” He could’nt omit such an act of courtesy, not he. Really he did look lovely & was properly appreciated—wore his black velvet frock with blue satin rosettes on the shoulders & shoes .. his long ringlets shining like gold. Robert & I were very proud of him. Wilson was in the house, for fear of accidents which did’nt occur. Isabella Blagden is passionately fond of him & has him to dinner twice a week in general. Then he had another grand piece of dissipation on Christmas Eve when he was invited to a children’s party by daylight, from three p.m. to five, at Mrs Sartoris’s .. (late Adelaide Kemble). Wilson went with him .. but he entered the room by himself—oh, he has lost all his shyness, that child!– There were some forty children present, & a sprinkling of Papas & Mamas—(we did’nt go because we were going to the midnight mass & I was afraid of the fatigue) and there was a Christmas tree .. & when the time came for coming away Penini did’nt quite like it, Wilson says. Fanny Kemble devoted herself to him & danced round the tree with him, & he brought home bonbons & a ball as his share of the spoil– He was set up on a table to see—& Wilson who was admitted to a sight of the famous tree, heard one lady say to another, “How lovely that child does look!” The prettiest child there, Wilson swears.
On Christmas day we went to the Storeys– I did not like it, but, poor things, we had agreed that it should be so, to keep off some of the shadow of the day– We dined at five—Penini & Edith dining with us—by the way he fell sound asleep with his head on the table, between the turkey & the plum pudding– “Here’s the pudding Penini,—wake up!” .. woke to eat the pudding & fell prostrate again & was carried home in a state of unconsciousness which lasted till morning– Now he & I have finished our night dissipations for the season. I shall go no more out at night till the spring. I did not profit much by going to Isabella Blagden’s, & I dont mean to “spend myself for naught,” [10] so people who want to see me must come here where we are hospitable in black tea & cakes, & the sofa turned round to the fire– I could’nt even go to Mrs Sartoris’s last night, where there was exquisite music– Robert went, and I stayed at home with Mr Page the American artist, to talk spiritualism. He is a great favorite with both of us.
Dearest, dearest Henrietta, I do wish you were within face-sight & voice-hearing. May God bless you & Surtees & the darlings in this new turn of the years! I love & pray for you. May God’s love answer my prayer!
Wont you write a long letter to me. Write as usual—on thin paper only [11] —the new postal arrangement is more favorable to us than the old one, & envelopes are allowed. So dont mind the form of the letter. Send me plenty of news of the children. I want to know about Altham. Has he cut nearly all his teeth? Is he much thinner? Is he active & strong? Dont teaze him about his lessons for Heaven’s sake. Teach him only if he likes it– Is he full of play? And the little ‘Marybud’—does she “’gin to wink her golden eyes”? [12] I want a whole child-history, so sit down & write it. I hear of your giving dinner parties & being prodigiously hospitable. Oh Henrietta! Rome is enough to ruin us with its dearness! In the first place we pay rather above two pounds a week for our rooms– Then, we are reduced to live upon woodcocks, snipes, hares & turkies, because of beef & mutton being so high in price. That is’nt so bad,—but bread & butter & milk & eggs are dear—dearer than in England sometimes .. fifteen pence an English pound for butter .. the wine Robert drinks 1s– 8d a bottle. We set ourselves down as ruined with such prices. For the rest we are very well. Penini looks as bright as he was in Florence, and I have been out most days since I came. I was at St Peter’s on Christmas morning, & having the ‘costume de rigueur’ .. black gown, no bonnet, & a black veil on my head .. was admitted to the reserve seats, & saw pope & cardinals & all the pomp of it. The music was sublime, which, with the influence of the place & the sight of the crowding multitudes carried me over everything I could otherwise have been schismatical upon– I was very much impressed & affected. Penini was present, in the body of the church, held up over the people in Ferdinando’s arms, & Wilson by his side. Penini must see the sights, I can assure you, or there would be no peace for us.
Within the last three weeks, Henrietta, I have begun to teach him to write, which he has an especial taste for. You know he taught himself to print long ago—but now we have come to manuscript– There was no reason why he should’nt learn it. His progress is really astonishing—& on the seventh page of his copybook, various of the letters are better & “more bold” as he says himself that [sic, for than] what I had written for the example. “Isabella Blagden” he chose to write on this seventh page. Capital letters, joinings & all—wonderfully written. He reads everyday, & there never is a word about it. After the crisis at Lucca .. before and after, .. not a breath has disturbed the water .. & he is very proud of what he can do. Only, the printing is better than the reading, I must say—better of its kind, I mean. Its like the writing of a child ten years old already—quite remarkable. I let him write three lines a day .. not more for fear of tiring him. He writes in pencil, you are to understand! But think! Just three weeks since he began– Do you remember Miss Reece at Sidmouth? She married a Mr Brotherton an artist two years ago, & is settled at Rome, after doing a little literature in the Athenæum & elsewhere. I have been to see her—but she remembers you chiefly she says. Rather an interesting woman certainly. People will have it that she is unhappily married because her husband is spirituously rather than spiritually inclined—that is, he has had habits of intoxication, which return at times. People mean that she ought to feel unhappily married. I only know she told me that she had never known happiness except in her marriage, and I must receive her testimony on the subject after all. By the way Isabella Blagden has just sent me a note to read from her– She, Mrs Brotherton, has been a great sceptic about the turning tables &c. She writes to Isabella that on the evening of her soirée, the Miss Thackerays (girls from thirteen to sixteen) went to her house & that they tried the tables—that the tables responded with intelligence, informed them of various things .. among the rest as to the number of persons assembled at Miss Blagden’s at that time .. “forty—17 men & 23 women.” Mrs Brotherton doubts whether this can be true & wants it verified– (Precisely true.) She adds that she is growing “very credulous on the subject”—which every human being who investigates for himself or herself must end by being, unless preconceived opinions are obstinately vehement. The spirits said on that occasion that three good spirits & one evil were present, and that the good were “not pleased.” Miss Blagden & Miss Hayes want to make experiments here some evening—but I am less indiscriminately eager about them than I used to be, because, in the first place, convinced of the facts .. &, in the second, convinced that, unless you bring reverent & harmonious spirits within you, the Disembodied who come to you are impious & discordant– I consider the fact of the manifestations a great gift & priviledge, which should be received with pure hands & uplifted hearts, & not with levity & curiosity. The clergy both in England & the continent seem to be making a stand against the movement. Let them take care that they be not found striving against God. The taking for granted that spiritual communications must mean Satanic, is simply absurd. Mr Stratten does not doubt that if we call the Devil, he will come. Well—and I [13] do not doubt that calling the Devil would be sin in itself. But who calls the Devil, I wonder? I ask it—who calls the Devil?? That’s just the point which is taken for granted most foolishly– Several bishops in France have done so in their charges—two bishops within these few last days– Very well for R. Catholic bishops—but very ill for New Testament ministers!–
Think of that dear generous Mr Kenyon– Just as we were beginning to despair upon our expenses & the difficulty of getting to England over their heads, .. the skies fall, & we catch larks!– [14] Dear Mr Kenyon gives us fifty pounds, (“to help Penini & me to see everything”) & the road becomes clearer at once. He is very good—too good—& we are bound to him by cords. Scarcely could we understand at first the meaning of his letter—we fancied he had simply anticipated the allowance [15] —but no! It’s an additional gift. Arabel will hear from you.
I am thoughtful & anxious sometimes about Papa in the foggy winter season in London—& also about Arabel—who does not name her health in her last letter. Tell her to speak of herself out of pity to me.
May God bless you dear Surtees, beloved Henrietta, sweet Altham & baby! I love you dearly. Do the same by your
Ba–
Address: Angleterre– / Mrs Surtees Cook / Wilton / Taunton / Somersetshire.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 195–198 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. William Makepeace Thackeray stood 6 feet 3 inches.
3. Cecilia Elizabeth Walpole (1813–87, née Macallister) and her husband Henry Walpole (1818–76), son of the 3rd Earl of Orford and brother of Horatio William Lord Walpole (1813–94), later 4th Earl of Orford.
4. Mary Crowninshield Silsbee (1840–1928); see letter 3286, note 10.
5. Anna Cora Thompson (1844–1905).
6. Harriet Goodhue Hosmer (1830–1908), American sculptor, was the second daughter and only surviving child of Hiram Hosmer (1798–1862), a physician in Watertown, Mass., and his wife Sarah Watson (née Grant, 1802–36). She arrived in Rome in November 1852 and subsequently joined the studio of John Gibson. In the winter of 1853–54, Miss Hosmer made a mould of the hands of EBB and RB, from which she created a master cast in plaster. In a speech given on 12 March 1896, to the Art and Literary Department of the Chicago South Side Club, she related how this came about: “The history is very brief. The winter of 1853 … was my first [sic] winter in Rome, and it was then that I made the personal acquaintance of Mr & Mrs Browning. I then conceived the idea of casting their hands and I asked Mrs Browning if she would consent. ‘Yes’ she said ‘provided you will cast them yourself but I will not sit for the Formatore’—consequently I did the casting myself and therefore can guarantee their genuineness” (Harriet Hosmer’s manuscript notes at the Radcliffe Institute). The first published reference to the cast, that the editors have been able to trace, occurs in chapter thirteen of Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Marble Faun (Boston, 1860) where it is compared to a marble sculpture of a young woman’s hand: “As good as Harriet Hosmer’s clasped hands of Browning and his wife, symbolizing the individuality and heroic union of two high, poetic lives” (p. 154). In her 1896 speech at Chicago, Miss Hosmer said that she had more than once refused to allow the hands to be cast in a substance harder than plaster, but eventually she permitted at least two editions in bronze. A photograph of the original master cast, now at the Radcliffe Institute, is reproduced facing p. 178.
7. Matilda Mary Hays; see letter 3139, note 5.
8. At 13 Via Gregoriana.
9. Louisa Alexander.
10. Cf. Isaiah 49:4.
11. In order to keep the weight under ¼ oz.; see letter 3286, note 26.
12. Cf. Cymbeline, II, 3, 24–25. In this and subsequent quotations from Shakespeare’s works, the line numbers correspond to those used in The Riverside Shakespeare (Boston, 1974).
13. Underscored twice.
14. From an English proverb: “If the sky falls we shall catch larks.”
15. John Kenyon had been providing the Brownings £100 a year (see letter 2905, note 3).
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