4290. EBB to Henrietta Cook

As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 25, 298–303.

Rome. 43. Bocca di Leone.

Dec. 8. [1858] [1]

My beloved Henrietta, I feel very naughty indeed when I think how I have not written to you since my Paris days: but then again, it has been rather appearance than reality,—for writing to Arabel was much the same thing as to you, & I knew you would cede some rights to her on account of her solitude. As for you, I cant help thinking of you as having too much to do to read my letters except in the greatest haste, between pauses in general conversation or interruptions in particular instructions of the children. For instance, by this writing I cost Altham a whole five minutes from that French lesson—dont I, Altham?—or is it from the music? While I write, Peni is at his, practising vehemently: you would wonder to hear how those small fingers can draw out such a great noise, .. & how they can run, & leap .. as if for their lives. He makes progress in his music, & one of these days will be somebody in music. It would have been a real wrong against faculty if we had not let him learn. Of Rosellen’s twentyfour ‘Studies,’ [2] .. of “medium difficulty” .. (that is, very difficult) he plays nineteen quite superiorly—besides, of course, plenty of ‘pieces,’ which Robert & M. del Bene care less about– Here he has no master: there is a German whom he might have—but Peni hates to replace his friend Del Bene, & has promised to play two hours with Robert instead of one & so make up for the advantage lost. In fact, Robert is an excellent master—far better than most of the professional people. Peni is good at his lessons in general now. I brought away from Florence a heap of lesson-books by way of teaching him something useful. Did Arabel tell you how she laughed when I talked of the “necessity of teaching Peni something useful” .... and so I “meant to teach him some mythology.” She was much amused by my idea of what is useful– But this time, I brought with me quantities of general-knowledge books—the ‘child’s History of Rome’, [3] “Little Mary’s Grammar.” [4] (I recommend it to you)—Mrs Marcet’s history of England, [5] and plenty of those catechisms, out of which one can get something,—though not by setting them to be learnt by heart– In French he is finishing “Les petits artistes” [6] .. which he likes– In German, having read Grimm’s stories & Bechstein’s, [7] I have set him to a tale of Hoffman’s– [8] And, in Italian, he is reading a translation of ‘Monte Cristo’ .. Alexandre Dumas’ novel at full length. [9] People may wonder a little; but it is very difficult to meet with Italian books, & I brought one from Florence so dull, that Peni fairly rebelled: the books “made him mad with anger,” he said. And this Monte Cristo Ferdinando was reading, and Peni has taken a great fancy to it, as the “most beautiful book he ever did read” & so I let him have his way– What he can understand of it wont hurt him, I believe—though Arabel will think it early for an initiation into French novels. The people here who knew Peni before, think him perfectly unaltered, except in his height, & he keeps up his popularity otherwise, I am glad to see, by being frank & sweet in his ways & manners– Of course, the child’s being used to society all his little peculiar life, gives him the advantage of a want of the usual childish shyness: & as he is not pert, this is pretty in its effect. I should have liked to send you the pattern of the trowsers he wears out of doors,—only I heard that Altham was regularly invested with male toga-trowsers. Peni’s are as short as his white ones,—half way down the legs, .. but very full (done in folds round the hips)––opening in front, not at the sides, like the white trowsers. He has one pair in fine black lady’s-cloth, and one pair in black velvet: both are trimmed up the sides with braid & buttons, & both are very becoming & much admired. He wears them only out of doors. But he is having white ones of piqué made like them for the house & the warm weather. The embroidery is to be kept for the collars & sleeves from henceforth, & I was extravagant in these things for him before we left Florence. Also, I had for him a new black velvet hat & feather, to do honor to the Pope’s festa-days.

Always I begin to talk to you of Peni, & then never do I leave off. It is that unconsciously or consciously I want you to do the same by me, & to let me have every little detail about your darlings, that I may see them to the end of a ribbon or a shoe. I shut my eyes & fancy them & you, & my dearest Storm & all the rest of you—oh, I wish I could open my eyes & see you! Well, well—the time is coming. Meanwhile we are well off here: we have a very pleasant apartment, three rooms of it, including our bedroom & sittingroom flooded with sunshine, so that on most days since we came, a fire has been impossible,—& I could wear nothing warmer than silk, in spite of the warm pretty costumes I brought from Paris. Just now, the fire burns, & I have my grey flannel jacket on—but there is, even now, no cold to complain of. I was out yesterday in the carriage, & have never yet been shut up. What I do complain of rather, is the quantity of visits … I for[e]see I shall be forced to shut myself up & fix a day for being victimized. Who do you think came yesterday? That Miss Kindersley, [10] from Wimpole Street. She brought a sort of introduction from Mrs Jameson. Then, a Mr & Mrs Marshall [11] called on us in the name of Alfred Tennyson .. whom therefore we were very glad to receive– She was Miss Spring Rice– A very refined person, apparently in very bad health. Rome is filling fast & will overflow this winter, it seems, in spite of the prices which are most extravagant,—ten pounds a week, for not a large family, being no extreme charge. It is wonderful that we should pay only ten pounds a month, two pounds ten a week, for our rooms, which are in an excellent situation & most comfortable, though not very large. Observe how conveniently arranged: and carpeted everywhere, even throughout the passages. Illus. And we have plenty of furniture, armchairs & sofas .. & a little table for my books & papers at the corner of the fire—just as I like it! We always have Peni to sleep in our room, but Annunciata takes him away to hers in the morning to dress him,—& as hers is rather a large room, he sometimes overflows into it in the day, if he happens to be de trop [12] —for us. We have taken this apartment for four months certain, & then we may pay a visit to Naples,—to return here however on our way back to Florence. I am sorry to say I have fallen into a trap already & am sitting for my portrait to Miss Fox, who prayed me to let her come & “do it.” [13] As I refused her once in London, I had not the heart to say a second ‘no,’—but I groaned inarticulately instead. It is only in chalks– And I made a condition that I should not be asked to sit beyond an hour at a time, & at other times than during Pen’s music-lesson. One of the worst things at Rome is, that people have a phrenzy here for taking portraits .. in marble or paints. It comes next to the fleas! Robert is to submit to Mr Leighton [14] —but this is a secret. O Henrietta, so beautiful my Peni’s bust is! Really exquisite it is. The only adverse criticism I have heard, was from Wilson, who thought it “too melancholy” for Pen,—but that effect comes from the blank marble eyes, for there is a half smile on the lips. I do hope Mr Munro will get it advanced enough for Arabel to see it before she leaves London. That dearest Arabel is suffering, I see from her last letter,—suffering from a cause which began in Paris– A spirit told me she was, before I heard it from herself. Dearest dear Henrietta, dont press her to go to Wales till she is quite right again, because any exposure while the glands are in this delicate state must be injurious to her, poor darling. I shall be anxious till she writes again. If she could have come here it would have been very good for her—but there’s no use in eating one’s heart about it—& indeed what is against one’s mind seldom does one’s body good: and she seemed to think decidedly on the subject.

I suppose you are all shooting & hunting all day long, & that Altham is in at the death each way. Yes, I do wonder you suffer it, Henrietta: I would’nt, I assure you, .. but then I’m not “English,” you know, & am full of fancies. I should ask Storm for a poney or donkey,—or a light cart (still better) and wander about the hills to listen to the silence & catch the picturesque points—& should have nothing to do with the game .i.i.i. except helping to eat it!—neither I nor Robert would, .. nor Peni should, Henrietta– Such barbarians are we!——

The most delightful journey we had from Florence,—seven days of it. So strange it is, living on the road in that way. We had books in the carriage, and I read through Heine’s poems in German, & translated two or three of them– [15] It was a luxurious sort of life,—so completely out of and in the world, at once!– We stopped in the middle of the day for two hours & had a kind of second breakfast, eggs & tea & coffee, .. & then in the evening we dined– It was too late for me, but I managed it, & generally speaking our beds were clean & comfortable enough,—& the fatigue was never up to the point of pain with me.

Miss Haworth & Miss Heaton have agreed to take an apartment together at Rome, & they are coming from Florence soon. Rather either of them than me! I dont like such partnerships– But the doubled income gives more power of course to each. Isa Blagden is at Madrid, & I have had a tolerably cheerful letter from her. There are quantities of old acquaintances settled here—Storys, Westons, [16] Pages, Cartwrights &c &c &c—only too many!—and Hatty Hosmer is pleased to see us & we to see her. I wish I had a photograph of Bryngwyn & of your dining-table. May God bless you all. When does Lizzie go? [17] It is pleasant, to hear that she is so strong. True loves to Storm & all of you—never forgetting

<…> [18]

Ever your most a<ttach>ed

Address: Angleterre viâ France– / Mrs Surtees Cook / Bryngwyn / Oswestry / Salop.

Publication: Huxley, pp. 301–304 (in part).

Manuscript: British Library.

1. Year provided by postmark.

2. Henri Rosellen (1811–76), 25 études de moyenne force pour le piano, op. 133 (1852).

3. John Bonner (1828–99), A Child’s History of Rome (New York, 1856).

4. Jane Marcet (née Haldimand, 1769–1858), Mary’s Grammar; Interspersed with Stories, and Intended for the Use of Children (1835).

5. Jane Marcet, Conversations on the History of England, for the Use of Children (1842) and Conversations on the History of England, for the Use of Children, in Continuation (1844).

6. Eugénie Foa (née Rodrigues-Henriques, 1796–1852), Les petits artistes peintres et musiciens: contes historiques dédiés à la jeunesse (1853).

7. Ludwig Bechstein (1801–60), German writer and poet, published Deutsches Märchenbuch, a collection of German fairy tales, in 1845.

8. Doubtless, one of four books by Franz Hoffmann (1814–82), prolific German author of stories for children: Der böse Geist (Stuttgart, 1856), Die Schule der Leiden (Stuttgart, 1856), Die Sonne bringt es an den Tag (Stuttgart, 1857), and Arm und Reich (Stuttgart, 1856). These sold as part of lot 931 in Browning Collections. All four volumes are now at ABL.

9. Le Comte de Monte Cristo (1844–45) by Alexandre Dumas (père) was first translated into Italian by Giovanni Rossani (1846–47).

10. Caroline Georgiana Kindersley (1801–89), daughter of Nathaniel Edward Kindersley (1762–1831), of the Madras Civil Service and Sunninghill, Berks, and his wife, Hannah (née Butterworth), widow of Capt. William Wasey. A friend of Anna Jameson, Miss Kindersley resided at 51 Wimpole Street in the mid-1840’s.

11. Mary Alicia Pery Marshall (née Spring Rice, 1812–75), eldest daughter of Thomas Spring Rice (1790–1866), first Baron Monteagle of Brandon, was the wife of James Garth Marshall (1802–73), a wealthy linen manufacturer and M.P. for Leeds (1847–52). Mrs. Marshall was the sister of Stephen Spring Rice (1814–65), one of Alfred Tennyson’s friends at Trinity College, Cambridge.

12. “Too much.”

13. Eliza Fox’s portrait of EBB, executed in coloured chalk, was completed the following March. EBB had “refused” Miss Fox in the autumn of 1855 (see letter 3638).

14. Leighton’s portrait, signed and dated by RB, 28 March 1859; present whereabouts unknown (see Reconstruction, G18).

15. One of which EBB gave to Sophia Eckley (see letter 4260, note 1). EBB’s translations of six of Heinrich Heine’s poems were published posthumously in Last Poems (1862).

16. Lucia Weston (1822–61) and one or more of her sisters (see letter 3994, note 3).

17. i.e., go for her confinement (see letter 4215, note 15).

18. The conclusion of the letter was written on the flap of the envelope, most of which has been torn away.

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