3923. EBB to Henrietta Cook
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 23, 126–129.
Florence.
Nov. 18 [1856] [1]
My very dearest Henrietta, I am waiting day after day for a letter from London. George wrote to me very kindly– From Arabel I have not had a word since her return,—& I am forced to hang by the comfort that she did write to you. Well—I suppose I must go on so—& that while I am in Italy, I shall have the fewest words possible from London.–
Dearest Henrietta, let me say to you one word first– You are very, very generous to forgive me for having given away your gift [2] —but the truth is, I never thought of doing such a thing—no, never. I struggled against you for a time, & wished Arabel to have the portraits of your children because it seemed to me, that she, dear thing, had the best claim—but when you insisted, & I accepted, I was quite incapable of receiving with one hand & consigning even to Arabel, with the other. So provoked I am therefore—oh, more than provoked, & so very anxious to explain to you. Dear, when I had brought the picture safely to London, my first wish was that Minny should see it—and finding myself too unwell to go out & take it to her, at last I said to Wilson, “I want you to carry that picture for Minny to see, when you go to Wimpole Street.” Conceive Wilson’s stupidity in imagining by that, that I meant to give it away to Minny–!! Wilson said to me, on my return, that “Minny thought the likeness to Altham very good” .. which satisfied me—and of course it never once entered my mind that this valuable gift of yours was not packed up duly, (in the middle of one of our boxes, as I had directed Wilson to carry it) until we arrived here & I found myself denuded– To say how really angry I was, & mortified, there is no use. Dearest Henrietta you could’nt imagine surely that I could act so by you with any consciousness of what I was doing?– Well—but it is done. You see it was intended, in spite of both of us, that our dearest Arabel should have that picture, & that I was right at first in wanting to give it up to her. So, she must keep it—and I must keep what is as good as any Daguer[r]eotype, my impression of your darlings– I am not likely to forget a feature of one of them, be certain, and it is a real, lasting pleasure to me to have seen & known them as we did at Taunton. So very glad I am that little Mary is better. Keep her safe this winter, & dont let the treasure go out in a cold wind or a too moist air.
Our best love & best thanks to dear Surtees for his affectionate letter– How too good you both are to us.
As you ask about my cough I will tell you at once not to think of it again– It dropped off somewhere on the road & has not returned, though we have had very cold weather, & the tops of our mountains are now white with snow. We found our house in excellent order—we are more fortunate in tenants than you are—and I cant imagine how it is that our carpets never wear out. Since our return, we have been furnishing our large extra-drawing room, which Robert uses & has used uncomfortably hitherto as a dressing-room, & which he may use now besides as a working-room & be at his ease– [3] So that afterwards (when we let the house) there is a large bedroom in addition, to enable us to raise the rent. We have carpeted the floor with thick drugget, such as is made in Florence (thicker than drugget proper), and bought chairs, sofa, &c &c. Robert will [be] in prosperous circumstances– It was not pleasant in winter to dress on the bare stone floor. Also, we have bought a new little bed for Penini (placed in our room) & a large glass, & a new wardrobe for me. It’s very pleasant, even after Mr Kenyon’s house, to find ourselves here,—though the place is duller, & quieter than Paris & London, & we seem to ourselves to have dropped suddenly down a well out of the world. I have scarcely been in the open air (not after the first week) so afraid I am of the bitter tramontana wind,—but people have come here of course, and I have heard quantities upon the Hume question, & everything confirmatory. [4] It is curious how persons who agree in nothing else except in disliking Hume (for the foolish young man has succeeded in making himself universally disagreeable) all agree in considering the phenomena above nature. Count Cottrell turned his back on Hume at Lord Normanby’s as a “worthless fellow”, but told me at the same time, .. he would swear to having seen an arm come out of the ground veiled in white, but displaying a beautiful female hand—that the hand professed to be the hand of Mrs Powers’s mother [5] .. that the hand drew a chair by the back towards the table, & then took a sheet of paper & a pencil from the table, .. & wrote in the sight of them all, what they all read, .. the name written four or five times over in the very handwriting of the deceased person. Sophia Cottrell had her dead baby [6] on her knees for a quarter of an hour—& said, “Darling, wont you give your hand to papa?” On which, her husband swears that he felt and held a baby’s hand in his, & drew his fingers down every separate finger. If you knew Count Cottrell, what a matter-of-fact man he is! Robert went to see an unbelieving friend of his, who used to talk with him of the absurdity of people holding by such delusions– To his surprise he found the whole house turned round. They had used various precautions .. had tied Hume’s legs & arms– The spirit-hands came & undid the knots before their eyes. They introduced (unknown to Hume) under the table, a man whom they could trust,—& the phenomena took place the same. On one occasion, the whole room shook as in an earthquake, .. & to such a degree, that everybody in it was sick. Under these circumstances, scepticism was impossible. Everybody would be delighted to disbelieve in Hume—but they cant. They hate him, & believe the facts. Mrs Kinney the American ex-minister’s wife (at Turin) thanked Robert vehemently for his violence to Hume—& then mentioned a little fact of her own– Once when the table was raised, lifted sideways, & a pencil rolled off to the edge, she put out her hand to prevent its falling, .. when lo, there it remained .. & she could not, with all her force, separate it from the table. The last news of Hume is, that he is dying or dead in Paris of congestion of the lungs. The spirits said two years ago (as Arabel will remember) that two years would be the term of his life. Not that they are always right in such prophecies. No– Mr Ruxton’s poem under spiritual influence, did not reach me. Probably he did not choose to confront Robert with it, and, if so, he was wise.
Penini is much more good at his lessons, & is looking really lovely in his new blouses. He was getting too mature for the sashes tied behind. Altham can wear them a little longer. You cant think how learned Peni is already in all the gossip of Florence (he gets among the Italians & listens with erect ears) and how he translates to us most horrible stories of wicked monks, and unfortunate children baked as brown as bread in secret ovens. He would make Mary open her blue eyes with fear, if she could hear him. What a pity that she did’nt come with us after all– Peni has taken to lecture me so I propose calling him ‘grandpapa’. He said at dinner the other day, “Papa is about thirty, I think—but mama tant be more than twenty, & so she tant know as much as papa– When we are younger” (condescending to include himself in the proposition) “we dont know everysing.” The child gives himself wonderful airs, certainly. He is fond of talking of Altham & Mary.
Sophia’s is a very lovely boy. [7]
I heard today that Algiers is dear—so it is well we did’nt go.
We have beautiful flowers on the table, though Peni has just brought me in a piece of ice, which he likes better than a flower. I am afraid of this weather. Still, in change for any sun, I would have a good letter from Arabel. Oh, it is so far away to have to wait long– God bless you all.
Dont be too ashamed of me when you hear me called hard names for my new poem. Certainly dearest Henrietta.
I have just had a message from a Sicilian princess [8] to beg me to let Peni come & see her & her children– I say ‘Yes.’
Address: Angleterre viâ France. / Mrs Surtees Cook / Wilton / Taunton.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 261–264 (in part).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. EBB refers to a daguerreotype of Altham and Mary Cook. It (or one similar) is reproduced facing p. 48.
3. This room was not part of the Brownings’ original lease of Casa Guidi but was added in May 1850; see the third paragraph in letter 2848.
4. The incidents EBB relates took place within three months of the arrival in Florence of Daniel Dunglas Home (she habitually spells his last name as it was pronounced) on 20 September 1855. By the latter part of December, he had succeeded in alienating most of the Brownings’ friends, including the Kinneys, Trollopes, Cottrells, Powerses, and Jarveses.
5. Margaret Ann Gibson (née Reilley, 1792–1854).
6. Probably Clement Cottrell, who died on 17 March 1855, three weeks after his birth.
7. Henry (“Hal”) Edward Plantagenet Cottrell (1851–1938).
8. Unidentified.
___________________
