4085. EBB to Henrietta Cook
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 24, 196–200.
Florence–
Saturday & Sunday– [24–25 October 1857] [1]
My ever dearest Henrietta I have an unanswered letter from Arabel as from yourself—(no, Arabel’s is not quite to me!– Peni has the joy of it.) but I cant hesitate about writing to you when I know you are or have been (I pray God!) anxious about your darling baby. Those teeth are terrible disturbers of the public peace,—and one suffers horrible sympathy with the little speechless patient who only cries to one his description of pain. Have you had the gums lanced?– That generally relieves– Take courage– These evils pass quickly when they do pass,—& the child is so healthy that I am hopeful of this evil being already passed. As to Peni he is quite himself, & we have difficulty in remembering sometimes that we ought to be more careful for him than we used to be. As for over-working him … your counsel is quite wise: only indeed & indeed we never do such a thing. The list of his lessons sounds as if we did it—but you keep your children much closer to work, let me seriously assure you, Henrietta, than we have kept Peni at all. An hour & a half with me covers all,—apart from the music .. and music he has such a passion for, that, now the dryest part is over, it never seems to tire him– Robert hears him practice for generally an hour, and Signor Del Bene for nearly an hour every day—and I should put an end to it in a moment if it were as it used to be when there was uphill-work—but now I hear Peni say, “Oh, let me play this again—it is so very pretty,—it really wont let me go”– The music is quite one of his pleasures, he who cant bear lessons: and he & Robert get on in perfect smoothness of mutual contentment. The child told me that M. Del Bene had suggested the desireableness of his “practising six hours a day,” (a joke, of course!) and when I exclaimed, Peni said gravely, .. “well, I should like it indeed. I never am tired with music.” He is very quick at reading the notes, & plays new music with remarkable apprehension for so young a child, who has learnt six months. When he learnt before, he only knew the treble notes & those not very well,—& he had forgotten absolutely everything, .. everything. I should like you to hear him play a duet with Robert now .. a certain duet we are very proud of, his part consisting of four pages, .. Bellini’s music– His cheeks & eyes lighting up, & the little hands trying hard for the octaves—with so much spirit, he plays. You ought to hear him talk of “Beethoven” too, & how people who play very well are able to play him. Signor del Bene came to see us the other day & praised the child’s faculty much,—& observed that the way to get attention from him was to say, “Now, you have played that excellently,—but the next piece is more difficult & I bet (io scommetto) that you will never do it.” That nettles him & stirs him up. But Peni’s great advantage is having Robert’s instruction at home. Now patience is not so much wanted, Robert is admirable as a master– For German, Peni learns just three phrases a day, repeating the three of the day before—says an auxiliary verb (learnt long ago)—and reads & translates half a page– It is not work for Peni—he who learns his lessons by reading them twice over– I dont admit of a single mistake, mind. For the rest his mind is more fixed on play than anything else. And Annunciata is a capital playfellow– I find her running about all the rooms of the house with her eyes blindfolded, & the other day she appeared in the drawingroom attended by Peni with shouts of laughter in a complete male costume, trowsers & all!!! Combine with this the most zealous activity as to all sorts of work, (& put away for a moment your English ideas of decency, do you add?) and you will understand how satisfied we should be with her. Goodhumoured, gay, affectionate, & such prodigious activity. I only hope we shant stumble upon some enormous fault one of these days, .. much greater than Ferdinando discovers when he remarks that “she eats & drinks well.” Wilson tells me too that she is perfectly contented with us—which is satisfactory. I find her renovating my under-clothes, working out secret speculations into hooped petticoats & bows for the hair, .. all without the least suggestion on my part. It’s very pleasant, so far– I do hope you will soon get out of your most uncomfortable state of mind & household– Oh yes!—that is wretched. I know how it tells on one’s whole comfort. The man, the man, .. Henrietta! [2]
I must tell you that Ferdinando is a most tender husband to Wilson, & well conducted to a high degree. His first fault was not complicated with other faults. She is here everyday, but increasingly difficult to move,—& the house is not let I am sorry to add, in spite of the number of applicants. Did I tell you that Robert paid the rent for the first eleven months .. up to next May,—and that has helped them a little, of course–
Dearest Henrietta, I do hope you wont bind yourselves down to the disadvantages attending the deposit of money in the English funds– I cant see why trust-money is not as well in any safe place of deposit as in the English funds. It’s a mere prejudice, at which monied men like the Roth[s]childs laugh. Observe .. we get exactly double from these Tuscan funds what we should get in the English, with the attached income-tax. If dear Storm could know the exact state of the case, & the difference it would make to you, he would not agree with Surtees that trust-money should remain precisely where you get the least advantage from it. [3] You buy in here at sixty, & they pay you three percent,––there being no sort of risk; the government lands being in themselves more than enough to pay the government debt– Does Surtees understand?– For ourselves, we shall take the very first opportunity of taking out our trust-money which remains in the English funds– At this moment we cant without too great loss– We shall not mind losing a little presently– So ground down we have been all these years by these detestable English funds which are so proud of paying just nothing to anybody!–
Now you ask me about Peni’s trowsers, and I will answer you categorically. The first time he rode a donkey at the Baths of Lucca, through wild places in a wild manner, he came back with his embroidery all in rags, .. such of it as was visible at all: and when Wilson & I exclaimed, he said consolingly, .. “Oh, but I have it still! I have taken great care of it” .. & straightway pulled the fragments out of his pocket. He had rescued the torn pieces from the rocks & briars as he went on, & pocketed them carefully.
Well, as this was not quite satisfactory, & as besides he complained of the donkey saddle rubbing against his poor little bare legs, I had a pair of long white jean trowsers made for him to ride in, which were kept for riding-trowsers. I know he had “straps” sewn to them, & that his pride in them was excessive– But these were simply riding-trowsers—& I would not for the world have them used on other occasions. They are so ugly, Henrietta—so unnecessarily ugly at his age! even,—much more at Altham’s– Why, I have just had twelve pairs of short ones made—with new embroidery on each; six of them very pretty. How can they be cold? He wears flannel trowsers under them, & woollen socks; and we have the greatest difficulty in making him put on the long white woollen gaiters which are for cold days when he goes out, he complains so of heat. Altham who wears long stockings always, surely could’nt be cold in long woollen stockings above the knees, & flannel trowsers reaching below the knees. Can that be cold? But above all things, run no risks– I would not for any degree of prettiness. Peni wears black silk, or black velvet blouses—(orleans cloth last spring) & a black hat & feather—but he has never put off his embroidery, for the collar & the trowsers– I did not think it necessary at his age. Did Altham?– My sentiment is very strong against the deep-mourning-forms for young children—and for the rest, there are reasons into which I need not enter today, which make me generally very unsettled as to that subject even as it relates to others than children– Here are Mr & Mrs Powers who have lost their favorite child, [4] their prettiest, after three days illness. The stroke overpowered them, & she looks like a shadow!– So changed, so changed! But not an inch of crape does she wear—& the whole family go about in coloured dresses. That, I think, is a want of taste, in as far as it is exceptional to custom; but as a matter of feeling they are right, right, right, according to their own views & what they think they have learnt. I could tell you more of this– We know more than we used to know– But it shall be for another time.
The weather here is lovely,—& if I talked of Peni’s flannels & woollen socks, it is in relation to his fever, you know, & because we are more than usually careful of him. When he got out of bed he began with flannels directly—very much against his inclination. Peni is always “as hot as fire” if you would believe him!–
I hope you will go to Bryngwyn before Arabel leaves it that you may have some precious days together. From her description it must be a beautiful place! oh, and I do hope Storm wont think of going off to Jamaica this winter again. I do hope he wont– Why, he will have the sense of home nowhere .. except perhaps on the sea!–
Our plan is to go to Rome at the end of next month. Mrs Jameson has rooms in this Casa Guidi–
May God bless you, dear!
If you were to see the splendid Datura on our terrace—trees covered with great white lilies, almost like the Victoria lily and a lemon-tree with two ripening lemons—which Peni threatens to take for lemonade.
Can you have the heart to take little Mary from Arabel? Dont you agree with Mrs Cook that she had better keep her till Altham goes to school? I am going to write to my dear Arabel whose letter to Peni charmed him.
May God bless you dearest!– Our love to Surtees, & our kisses to the darlings.
Your ever
loving Ba
Address: Angleterre viâ France. / Mrs Surtees Cook / Wilton / Taunton / Somersetshire.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 284–286 (in part, as 28 October 1857).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. This letter is postmarked 25 October 1857, a Sunday.
2. EBB refers to William Hutchings (see letter 4070, note 7).
4. Frances Austin Powers (1849–57).
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