4489. EBB to Henrietta Cook
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 26, 298–302.
Villa Alberti. Siena.
Sept. 13. [1859] [1]
My ever dearest Henrietta I must answer your two dear little notes, one in Arabel’s letter & one with Mrs Martin’s. If you knew what joy it is to me to get a sign of life from you, dear, & from Arabel, you would write oftener:—only because I know how your time is swallowed up & digested by those children of yours, I dont expect a word more than I get. As to Arabel, the best thing I have heard lately has been her going to Lynton with George. [2] Sea air is necessary for her: she has been told so,—and she goes to the sea … for how long, was it? .. a month, or so. Now there will be a breath or two in addition, through dear George’s aid & abetment. Dont you think, Henrietta, that Arabel is a very unfit person to live by herself? Now if it were I I should have gone straight to the sea, (if ordered there) crept into a cave somewhere, & turned my back on the rest of the world, with unlimited supplies from Mudie [3] on my right hand side– But that darling Arabel must be pulled & pushed & held, & kept company with .. or back she runs to London, which is just the worst place in the world for her. (I mean this piece of impertinence for her especial meditation, understand.) Of course the influence of sea air & water requires time—she should have spent the whole summer on the coast, but we must take what we can get,—and I am grateful to George for the unhoped for supplement. George too, not well! Pray keep me informed all of you about his headaches, which he ought not to have. I felt shy of pressing him to keep his promise in respect to Italy .. partly through these headaches & the uncertain effects of this climate, as well as partly on account of political affairs, in consequence of which I knew he would consider it madness to bring Arabel here just now– That darling Arabel “wished she could come to me when I was ill” … if she could have done it in relation to expence &c. The word “expence” always makes me ferocious, (as to Arabel) justifying my bad words on the London arrangements to the latter,—but I would not have had her here when I was ill, .. to torment her, dear darling, .. but now, that wish of her’s comes back & rankles in me. How I should like to have her here, and George!– Our villa is really enjoyable—great rooms, with beautiful views– Sunsets red as blood, seen every evening over deep purple hills, with intermediate tracts of green vineyards. And the silence, the repose– I drink them from this full “beaker of the warm south”. [4] The temperature has changed from heat to freshness– Last night, for the first time, we had a counterpane over us, as well as a sheet,—and I who for two months had not worn a corset, put mine on this morning, yes, and a flannel petticoat for prudence sake.
We go out every day to drive, having made an arrangement at Siena—and little Pen has a poney for two or three hours, and a boy to preside—& you cant think how well & boldly the child gallops through these lanes, riding for two or three hours daily. Robert says he would buy the poney if we could stay at Florence this winter—which we cant do—my doctor having expressed his opinion that I must go to a warmer climate for the cold weather. We thought of Palermo—but there’s a rough sea to pass, & a risk of being made revolutionary mince-meat of at the end– The probabilities being all in favor of hot work throughout the Neapolitan territories, besides the south of Italy. We know the Italians, & should not fear at Rome—but Sicily is a different matter,—& I should feel nervous there in spite of “the English fleet” [5] in the offing as Robert suggests it. Then to pass a winter without civilisation is not tempting to one always—so I think we shall probably have another Roman winter, which we shall all rather like than otherwise. Meanwhile my strength has come back very fairly, & every day seems to increase it– Cough gone .. “to all intents & purposes”– Robert wont let me teach Peni yet though—but that proves rather his goodness than my badness. He had rather a fright, you see, & I have grown precious accordingly, far above my just value. It’s too much that the same victim should undertake the music, & other lessons besides: music for two hours, Henrietta! Pen does his teacher infinite credit, I must say,—whatever may be said of his own faculty. He makes great progress– He is just now learning a sonata of Beethoven (the one in E flat) [6] & will play it well. In fact, he is in the habit of playing modern German music which is harder & requires much more execution .. more mobility of hand– Everybody who hears him is struck by it– Mr Russell, Lord John’s nephew, the quasi-minister at Rome, called it “quite amazing”—& he knows something of music. He has just been here on a visit of two days to us. We had a letter from him from Florence—he calling himself “broken-hearted” at not finding Robert at Casa Guidi,—& asking if he might not come over for a few hours on his way back to Rome. So Robert offered a bed and rough fare, and the offer was accepted instantly– Mr Russell has the merit of being very appreciative of Robert, besides being, on his own part, acute and liberal, (liberal as the English can be) and extremely refined & amiable in manners. He had been taking his mother to England .. where the government would let him stay only three days. I could’nt help flying at once at my guest like an exhausted blood-hound .. “Oh Mr Russell! how ill you have all behaved!” “Well, but now, we are really not doing much harm .. are we? You must remember how little we have it in our power to do.”– I answered that I was not referring particularly to the members of the present government—(though I might have added, that when out of office they were as mischievous as any—and worse, because acting against their own principles)—but to England generally– He said it was “too true that England was perfectly without feeling for foreign nations”– On which I was silent– We were agreed. But the difference is, that he admits it with a smooth accent & countenance, while I revolt against the fact & call it intolerably hideous, a national sin crying out for judgment. There now! I shall not teaze you any more about politics. Robert gave me a lecture about it the other day. Also, being in improved spirits for Italy, & finding the right & the truth coming out everywhere, I am more able to rule my tongue & be still.
Mr & Mrs Story are our neighbours about a mile off here, and Mr Landor lives in a house nearer. Otherwise, the solitude is absolute—quite the country, in the most countrified sense. We take in two Italian papers, and Mr Story lends us everyday the Galignani, and every other day a stray number of the Times .. and books from Florence are sent from the library. Altogether I shall be sorry when the repose breaks up. Perhaps we may stay a week deep into October—that depends on the weather. Wilson has spent three weeks with us, with Pilade, & her maid Teresa. She seemed quite well & has gone back to arrange about a new apartment in which she is to receive & undertake Mr Landor. Poor Landor after having been treated in a monstrous way by his family (to whose arms he returned after thirty years absence) eloped from them to us at Casa Guidi one morning, swearing that he never would return. This was before I was ill. Robert did what he could, went up with Mr Kirkup to the Fiesole villa, & used all his eloquence towards a peace– In vain. Mrs Landor indeed came down to our door & was announced. “Let her come in” cried her attached husband, “and I throw myself out of the window.” “The best thing he could do,” rejoined the tender wife when she heard of it– His daughter told Robert that “to save her father’s life, she would’nt give him a glass of water.” The sons are savage uneducated men—to whom he has given up his villa & English property, on whom therefore he is dependent, & who treat him thus at eightyfive. Poor old man .. he wept as he spoke of it. Robert wrote to Mr Forster. He applied to Landor’s brothers & niece—who have generously & kindly made an allowance to him of two hundred a year, which Robert is to dispense—for Mr Landor is like Peni, as to matters of money, & was prepared, in fact, to give one hundred pounds to Garibaldi, as soon as he received two. The plan is, to settle him under Wilson’s care, who is to take an apartment & furnish it, & live there with her children, she having the full charge of Mr Landor,—even undertaking the cooking & general attendance– She has a maid of her own, so that she wont be overworked & will be very well paid. It will be an excellent thing for her. He is irritable & full of fancies—but Robert has much influence with him & he likes Wilson’s gentle voice, & I dare say it will answer well .. Robert explained to Landor’s English relatives that we were not always at Florence & while we are away Mr Kirkup will be responsible.
We have wonderful letters from Mr Kirkup, by the bye .. about the spirits. Rings carried out of the window & brought back again. The particulars would be too long. I believe.
Are you really Henrietta, going to send Altham to school? [7] Well—you can judge best, of course, and as I am certain you have too much on your hands in the way of teaching, it may be desireable for more reasons than one. Will the darling like it? or not? I know my little Mary wont, whoever does. It will be a loss to her—even though the saturdays bring joy– Tell me how you manage it & how it seems to answer. Will he have to give up the piano? That would be a pity. Arabel sent me a nice account of his & Mary’s playing– Peni’s Latin is not begun yet .. though we mean to make him a good Latin & Greek scholar, later if not sooner.
I envy your dancing,—& we mean to have Pen taught by a famous man at Rome [8] who is to teach the Storys’ children this winter.
Tell me—is dearest Bummy with you still? My best love, if she is– And you, tell me, Henrietta, how you think she is, & whether she recovers strength & the power of walking,—& how her spirits are– I want to know really.
And Arabel will be with you on her way back to London– Tell her to write & to speak of herself with detail,—for I am anxious about her, & cant bear to think of that suffering in the face continuing, dear precious thing. Robert’s & my true love to you all .. meaning Henrietta, Surtees, and the babies. May God bless you, beloved Henrietta—prays
your Ba——
Isa Blagden comes from Florence to spend a few days with us on Saturday–
I am not to have a thought broken on me, mind. I have taken again to eating & sleeping perfectly & look quite myself– Do you see the Hedleys much? Our love when you do–
On our wedding day, Robert went to Siena & bought me a most beautiful & peculiar fan. [9] Its an essential piece of furniture with me.
Address: Angleterre– / Mrs Surtees Cook / Stoke Court / Taunton / Somersetshire.
Publication: Huxley, pp. 320–323 (in part).
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library, Altham Archive; and British Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. Lynton is situated on the north coast of Devonshire. Arabella had been staying at Dawlish (see letter 4462, note 4).
3. Charles Edward Mudie (1818–90), bookseller and publisher, founded Mudie’s Lending Library in 1840 at 28 Upper King Street (now Southampton Row), Bloomsbury. In 1852 he changed the name to Mudie’s Select Library and relocated in New Oxford Street. He advertised extensively and ordered large quantities of the most popular books, which subscribers could borrow—a volume at a time—for the price of one guinea per year. Mudie, who was a chapel preacher, was known for his piety and the influence it played in his selection of books.
4. Cf. Keats, “Ode to a Nightingale” (1819), line 15.
5. As previously mentioned (see letter 4425, note 10), the British fleet patrolled the Tyrrhenian and Adriatic coasts during the Italian crisis of 1859–60, and their ships regularly called at “ports where there were British consuls or vice-consuls, especially Palermo, Naples, Civita Vecchia, Livorno (Leghorn), and Genoa” (C.T. McIntire, England against the papacy 1858–1861, Cambridge, 1983, p. 58).
6. Piano Sonata No. 4, Opus 7, in E-flat major.
7. Many years later, Henrietta’s daughter, Mary, recalled that Altham may have attended “Taunton Grammar school” (“I Remember: Recollections of Mary Altham,” ms in private collection).
8. Probably Angelo Costa, a dancing instructor at “57, Via di Pontifici” in Rome (Murray’s A Handbook for Travellers in Central Italy, 1856, part II, p. xvi). Later correspondence indicates that Pen did not take dancing lessons in Rome.
9. Perhaps the fan seen on the folding armchair in Mignaty’s 1861 painting of the drawing room at Casa Guidi (see Reconstruction, H18). The fan is dark muslin with gold border on fifteen wooden braces and is inscribed by EBB with her initials and dated “1859. Rome.” It sold in an unspecified lot in Browning Collections and is now at ABL. A photograph of the fan is reproduced facing p. 305.
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