3781. EBB to Henrietta Cook
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 22, 214–217.
[Paris]
May 7. [1856] [1]
My ever beloved Henrietta, How good of you to write this dear letter to me when I am sure you could have no strength to throw away. Not thrown away upon me though, as far as a grateful tenderness can deserve it. It was the greatest pleasure to see your writing—and Altham’s—and the new baby’s hair .. which when I lay it upon Penini’s, it loses itself, the colour is so like. If anything, Peni’s hair is still the lighter—but the golden shade is the same. Oh Henrietta, how I congratulate you! What a joy to have this baby!—what thankfulness to have gone through all the pain so well! Poor darling .. it was very bad, I dare say! And yet somehow, the worst of it seems to me a good thing. You were never tempted with the thoughts of chloroform, were you? It seems a very commonly used means of assisting the whole agony—quite commonly. Our friend Mrs Cust always uses it—so does Mrs Monkton Milnes—but I did’nt like suggesting it to you, through sheer nervousness,—also I think I myself should prefer having my senses about me. Indeed, dear, I have thanked God for you—you must know that of me! I have thanked Him for you & for myself, & for your children & Surtees & all of us. As to the name you mean to give the child; dear, I will not judge for you. I did not do it for mine, & so you may conclude that I had scruples—but really this whole subject is so beyond my experience & imagination, that you may be much more right than I am,—& there might be something pleasing in it (—who knows?) to the dear mysterious person in immediate question. [2] For my part, I dont much care to use beloved names over again, & to tell you the truth, I have a sort of regret for having called my child ‘Robert’– A name cant be too individual I think. For the rest I shall love your baby, be sure, as well as if I were ten godmothers rolled in one, & bound to teach them the church catechism & thirtynine articles [3] over & above. Oh. I do trust I shall have great joy in the sight & knowledge of you all this year!–
In the meantime I am not joyful except for your sake. We are very anxious about dear Mr Kenyon who is, I fear, in a dangerous state—directly from spasmodic asthma, but with an affection of the heart apprehended. Miss Bayley is with him, & tells us that he wanders much at times, & that his vision appears troubled—tho’ at intervals he is quite himself—aware of his precarious state, with occasional inbreaks of hope of rallying. There seem to be some good symptoms, but I am in great alarm & sadness about this dear kind generous friend, of course. Robert has twice offered himself as a nurse– The first time, there was a kind negative, but this second time we have not yet heard. Mrs Jameson wrote to press Robert to go—but you see, it is a very delicate position, & we wd not seem to Mr Kenyon himself or to others to push a line’s breadth, not for our lives– For my own part, I should really wish Robert to go– Miss Bayley is very devoted, & very sensible,—but I would rather that a believer were with him at this time, than an unbeliever, … oh, I would rather! Still, nothing is to be done without a permission. I have written to beg Mrs Jameson to tell me her reasons for pressing Robert’s presence, & I may hear today. Dear, dear Mr Kenyon! Of course we think of very little else. Mr Edward Kenyon is sent for from Vienna, but has not arrived yet—or had not,—up to two days ago.
Also I have been in a panic about Arabel, who has grown to me the worst correspondent that can be. You say I can! But then, Henrietta, do remember that I am aware of your having news of me under my hand always—whereas if nobody writes to me, nobody writes. Surtees did’nt give me London news, only Wilton news. A ton of lead is taken from the top of my brain by a letter of Arabel’s to Peni. She was only tired half to death with a bazaar. [4] Oh—if people wd but learn to write six words & send them by the post—(“I am only tired—not extinct!! Arabel.”) it would save one such horrible minutes of dread. I work myself up, you know. And Arabel works herself down—there’s the difference between us two. Certainly she will end by coming to some serious harm by positive over-working– As if there were not enough to do at the Refuge, without a bazaar!– At this moment, in comes a letter from her, dear darling! Oh, I reproach myself so for ever scolding her. But I was lashed up with fright into rage. She’s only too good for us mortals—too dear for one’s ease certainly. One cant take it quietly when one thinks perhaps that they are near to tolling the bells for her. I am really mad sometimes, I get so frightened by silences.
There’s a lesson for you, Henrietta! Write to me as often as you can. Dear Mr Kenyon seems to be scarcely better—very ill, I fear, I fear.
Altham’s letter quite surprised me, it was so well written & spelt– A sweet little letter! I dare say Peni cant spell better or as well, as he does—though Peni has improved lately. But he must have me at his elbow to help him to spell, always. Delighted he was with Altham’s letter—but the word “catechism” represented untold mysteries of learning to him, as he never heard of such a thing in his life– “What is a tatetism, mama?” Tell me—does Altham learn his lessons well? Peni reads over his once, & expects to say them– We have great difficulty in making him give a little serious attention. Dearest Henrietta, if the militia shd be deploid [sic], will there be a difference in your income? I fear there may. Tell me of Susan– I am so sorry to hear of <he>r illness. Give my love to Surtees when you write to him, & thank him much for his last kind letter. Dearest Henrietta, may God keep all your treasures for you—& all together for long!
Robert’s love with the tender thoughts of your Ba.
Address: Angleterre. / Mrs Surtees Cook / Wilton / Taunton / Somersetshire.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 245–247 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
Enclosure:
Paris. May.
My dearest Altham,
I’ll be your friend very willingly,—and I should like very much to see you and play with you. I have wanted some new friend so very often, and now I have got one and now I’m glad too that at present, when I cant see you or play with you, you can write letters to me and I can write letters to you. Soon I will send you a pretty poem, and perhaps I will send you a picture.
The very minute I am writing this,—most beautiful lilacs comes [sic] in, as a present to mama! I send my own love and my own kiss to your little sleeping brother, & Mary, and to my aunt Henrietta, and my uncle Surtees.
Goodbye, dearest Altham. I hope I will really see you in London when I get there!—not in fun, but in reality.
Penini.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. i.e., their father, Edward Moulton-Barrett. Henrietta’s baby was christened Edward Altham Cook.
3. The Thirty-Nine Articles of Faith that the Church of England requires its ordinands to swear to uphold.
4. The event was announced in The Morning Post of 30 April 1856: “A Fancy Sale will be held (D.V.) in the Hanover-Square Rooms, This Day the 30th of April, on behalf of the Grotto-Passage and Edward-Mews Ragged Schools, and the Lisson-Street Refuge for Girls, in the parish of Marylebone. The sale will commence at 12 o’clock. Admission 1s.; children, 6d.” ([p. 1]).
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