4169. EBB to Henrietta Cook
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 25, 103–108.
Florence.
Saturday– [24 April 1858] [1]
Eyes or no eyes, my beloved Henrietta, I cant let you think of me as you may well be thinking—who knows? To explain my alternative set above, I will tell you that I finished my last letter to Arabel, intending to begin one to you in two days, because I felt painfully conscious of owing you thanks & tender words of various kinds. But while writing that letter (written by bits) I was suffering a little (though I did not name it) with a strange malady for me, namely inflammation in one eye, .. caught from a draught at a window, & neglected at the commencement. I thought nothing of it, .. a mere bloodshot eye .. but no sooner had I sent my letter to the post, than the inflammation increased, .. “making the white, one red”, [2] and the irritation & pain by night & day grew so keen, that I had to be shut up in the dark, with lotions instead of literature, not able to read a word, .. quite a trial to me, as you may suppose .. especially as just now, I want air & vivification of all kinds to put down my weakness–. Ah well—now its all not worth talking of. I am able to write as you observe, & to read again, and I have been out three times in the carriage [3] —& the windows are wide open to the sun– I tell you, because otherwise you should not have waited the last fortnight at least, for this letter. For indeed, dearest dearest Henrietta, though I have seemed to miss you out of my correspondence lately, Arabel’s late anxieties in Delamere Terrace drawing me to her, [4] dear thing, I have thought much of you, & felt very gratefully all the confidence you showed me, my dearest Henrietta, in your last welcome letter. That was a letter which gratified me very much. It made me easy for you, dear, dear, .. & it was kind & considerate of you to know that it would be welcome on that account. I am so glad that your money is invested so satisfactorily—quite with as good returns as ours, except that we escape the income-tax. On the other hand you have the sort of assurance which English people dont often acknowledge out of England; & Tuscan stocks dont sound as well, I agree, as English government securities, even in the ears of ‘vagabonds,’ .. as Arabel calls us. I wish we could deal with our funded English property however, [5] as we have done with the rest—we should be too glad– And you have taken another servant? You have four, have you not? [6] We keep to our two—but then, alas, we keep also to our one child, & have not your necessity therefore. Besides, the way of life on the continent does not require the appliances of an English establishment: two servants are enough for us.
And now for the precious children– You did not tell me that dear Storm had given a poney to Altham. [7] What a good dear thought that was in him! I am so glad. You forgot to tell me,—& so I confess I did wonder a good deal over the “leather gaiters,” which seemed to me “un peu fort” [8] for donkey riding. What sort of poney is it? what height? very quiet, I hope. Peni accounts Altham a most enviable person,—but you are to understand that we wont be altogether outdone, for that Robert has spoken to the master of the riding-school here in Florence, [9] who lets out horses; & who when he has found a small enough small poney, is to teach Peni to ride on it at his school, & then to let it out for him to ride with Robert– Of course Robert might teach the child as well, I think,—but he always fancies that things should be done fundamentally, or scientifically, [10] .. & so Pen’s to be regularly instructed. The Sardinian ponies are as celebrated as the Shetland, but we dont feel tempted to buy, moving about so much—vagabonds without a caravan! .. & the expense would be unnecessary otherwise, of stabling &c.
Then Altham & Mary are in advance of us, I hear, in dancing!– You are quite right in having them taught, it seems to me. They will learn better, learning early. I have been waiting in vain for a family of children with whom Pen might take lessons,—because there wd be small use, I fancy, in employing a master for him alone. This expense would be greater than is worth while, for he would catch up the accomplishment very easily & at slight cost if two or three families combined,—& in this way he wd learn quadrille figures &c– Altham & Mary are two, observe. Pray tell me if you have a good master, & if the children get on. Little Mary, I should fancy, carries away the laurel. Then the music—what of the music?– Does’nt it worry you considerably, having to teach two beginners? Indeed I should think so. But if Altham should not take to it, you wont persist with him, will you? Music depends so entirely on organization.
We have had a very grand business lately with Peni– As I told Arabel, M. Del Bene his master, was to give a great musical party, & Pen was to be one of the performers. It’s over at last,—happily for all of us, seeing that Pen thought of nothing else, .. the pair of white gloves he was to have for the occasion, the new chandelier to be put up, & the “quantities of people” to be present, .. a ‘hundred,’ said Pen– For my part I was, .. what Peni was’nt, for a moment .. fairly frightened. Two days before the time, M. Del Bene sent a part of a quartett, quite new, for the child to learn: and although certainly the music was not hard, as there was a knack necessary in catching the time,—it was to be played very fast, Robert gave his opinion that the thing was utterly impossible, & the Professor very inconsiderate– However, the effort was made, & Pen being bent on doing it, did it. In fact he told us that he “must do it—for M. Del Bene had said that if he did’nt, there was no use in his coming to the concert.” So the thing was done. Not to go to the concert was an awful thought!
When the great day arrived, Pen desired to be called at six o’clock, & he went straight to the piano: after breakfast, more practising,—at eleven a.m. he went to Mr Del Bene to the rehearsel [sic]; after three, more practising; and at five, to M. Del Bene again to practise before the concert began. He was the youngest performer of course,—& next to him came the master’s son, Emilio, a boy of twelve & upwards, [11] educated for a professional artist– With him, Pen played a duet—then a part in the famous quartett, he & Emilio at one piano, & M. Del Bene and a girl of fifteen at another– ‘Oh, it went so beautiful,’—cried Pen in a rapture– ‘Beethoven might have heard it—the pianos wide open, with sticks to hold them up,—& the pedals down–’ [“]Such a fine noise it was!” Then Penini performed a solo—written & dedicated to him by M. Del Bene. [12] Not one mistake did he make, he says– Quite a success– Ferdinando brought him home at eleven oclock, in a triumph– He had been “molto bravo”, [13] & the people had clapped their hands for him. Fancy Peni. He had the music ringing in his ears, he declared, all night & the next day.
He has two very pretty blouses of raw silk (the colour of nankeen) embroidered (not braided, but regularly embroidered, observe) one of them with white thread, & another with blue wool– The weather persuades to lighter dressing, for it has been unseasonably splendid throughout March & April—and now the heat is like a fine July or August in England. Of course we have had green peas & young potatoes this month—though we never have either till they are at the most accessible prices. I am well in my chest,—& not ill, otherwise, .. only weak more than ought to be, & suffering from an ‘ebranlement de nerfs,’ [14] which gives every little thing power to shake me,—& of course the eye business threw me back a good deal. But with such weather, & a restored power of getting out, I dare say I shall make progress soon. What we shall do afterwards I have not a notion– Robert holds me by an oath to Ægypt in the winter,—but there’s the summer in the meantime!– As to Ægypt, it’s all water-travelling, which to me is not hard,—if Robert likes to brave it for himself,—& we must get a piano on board our boat, for Peni, at Alexandria. Altogether, it will be an immense expense .. only, just possible .. which Jerusalem is’nt for me, we have ascertained from our friends. [15] Certainly, if I had gone, I should have been buried in the sand somewhere—that’s clear. But I must not cross Robert about Ægypt—only its a long time off, to talk of—& as for me I have’nt breath even for the plans of this summer. I should like you to see Pen just now, .. he looks so pretty & rosy, .. his new little brown straw hat with a long black feather on the top of his golden head. Oh, I should like too to see your darlings—and you.
Do you know I rather like the little things Arabel has told me of Emma. She may turn out a comfort to Arabel, after all– She is so fond of children. Only, if I were she, I would get her made over to me regularly as my own child, so as not to vex herself about ‘responsibilities’ .. except to God.
Arabel has just sent me a long letter .. tell her, a long letter!! to communicate the date of dear Henry’s marriage. I had the news too late to “remember it on wednesday,” [16] but when we knew, we drank to his health, dear fellow, & her’s– I think I shall like her very much. I shall write to him—but where to address the letter is a difficulty.
Write & tell me all your news. Robert scolds me for writing so much—but I consider my eye out of the House of bondage, [17] now.
So disappointed I am about Hume– He has passed on to Marseilles with his bride– A friend of ours, Major Gillom [18] of the Crimea (where he left a leg) sailed from Civita Vecchia with Hume & his Russian family, & their suite of about twenty persons,—secretaries, ladies’ maids &c &c &c– Hume was sea sick, but devoted to the lady. Certainly her taste must be extraordinary– She is rather good looking, & apparently five & twenty– How strange the fortunes of that young man are. And she! Think of the conjugal furniture floating about the room at night, Henrietta. My friend Mr Jerves spent a night with Hume once, (when enquiring into the subject,)—& a four posted bed was carried into the middle of the room—shadowy figures stood by the pillow—or lay down across the feet of those about to sleep—nothing threatening, everything kind, .. but, at best, extremely disturbing. [19]
Now I shall write no more– My best love, & Robert’s, to dear Surtees & heaps of kisses to the children–
Your ever loving Ba.
When can we hear from Jamaica– [20] I hope Arabel will let me know when you do.
Address: Angleterre viâ France. / Mrs Surtees Cook / Wilton– / Taunton / Somersetshire.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 291–293 (in part, as 28 April 1858).
Manuscript: British Library.
1. This letter is postmarked 26 April 1858, a Monday.
2. Cf. Macbeth II, 2, 60.
4. EBB alludes to the fever that attacked Emma Barrett and a “typhus fever” that took the life of a servant (see SD2150).
6. Earlier, Surtees recorded that the new cook, Sarah Perry, had recently arrived (see SD2136). The Cooks already had at least two servants before then, as indicated by Surtees in a journal entry of 21 January 1858. Presumably, these two servants consisted of a lady’s maid for Henrietta and a nurse for the children. Surtees mentions a nurse named Sarah in July 1857 and one named Emma in September 1858 (see Surtees, 2 July 1857 and 4 September 1858). The Cooks’ coachman, William Hutchings, had left their service the previous November (see letter 4070, note 7), but they had probably replaced him.
7. “This pony, called Bryngwyn after the uncle’s then house in North Wales, proved a great success, a marvellous little animal, and carried the donee and his brother Edward over many a stiff fence with hounds in Somerset, for years,—until they grew too heavy. Even now, 1876, she still canters and trots over the Quantock Hills with the youngest sister on her back. She was foaled in 1855 and was unbroken when presented by the kind uncle in 1858” (annotation by William Surtees Altham (né Cook) on his transcript of EBB’s Letters to Her Sister Henrietta, ms at ABL/Altham). The previous December, Surtees recorded that Charles John “gave Altham a beautiful pony” (see Surtees, 1 December 1857).
8. “A bit much.”
9. Possibly, “F. Mircoviz, Via dei Tossi, 4014, lets out horses and gives riding lessons to ladies” (Murray’s Handbook for Travellers in Northern Italy, 1858, part II, p. 518).
10. In July RB asks Edward Chapman to send him a “Horse-taming Book” (see letter 4213).
11. According to Emilio’s baptismal record, he was born in Florence on 31 December 1845, son of Giuseppe Del Bene and his wife, Luisa (née Lemmi).
13. “Very good.”
14. “Disturbance of the nerves.”
15. The Eckleys.
16. EBB refers to the marriage of Henry Barrett Moulton-Barrett and Sophia Amelia Morris (née Holland) on 21 April 1858, a Wednesday, at St. Mark’s Church, Torquay.
17. Cf. Exodus 20:2.
18. William Gillum (1827–1910); see letter 4034, note 2. Gillum had recently arrived in Florence from Rome. On 17 April he subscribed to Vieusseux’s reading rooms for a month, giving his address as Hotel Europe.
19. EBB had written of this episode some three years before (see letter 3551).
20. To learn of the safe arrival of Charles John, Septimus, and Octavius, who had sailed for Jamaica on 9 February.
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