4720. EBB to Henrietta Cook
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 28, 94–96.
[Siena]
[12 August 1860] [1]
My precious Henrietta your little scraps are in my heart—but dear, dear, dont write, so as to hurt yourself. I know that the least thought or feeling is too great an expense for you just now—and the best, kindest thing you can do for me as for all in sight of your dear face, is to keep still & calm & make no exertion for any of us. Meanwhile it is a blessing for which I thank our Lord, that you can be judged a little better .. & that for a day or two you have suffered something less. It is grievous to me beyond all to think of you as suffering pain. You are never for five minutes together out of my thoughts—& I cannot help being very sad in such thoughts– Robert blames me much, because he, who is a sort of prophet, will have it that I have no business not to look past the valley to the sunshine beyond, as he is “perfectly convinced of your being quite well very soon.” That’s Robert’s prophecy– Also, we hear, just as you do, of the commonness of this special malady & of its being overcome in most cases– The Countess de’ Gori [2] (in a villa a mile off) was so ill with a bad form of it three years ago that her medical man had little hope for her—yet she is in full health at this moment. Repose of body & mind .. no excitement, & good air & nourishment .. dear, you will see yourself, as far as you can, to these things, as part of your duty to Surtees & the children .. & to God– For the rest, your loving trust in Him, to whom we are all clinging in prayer, never will be disavowed by Him, we may be sure–
What a pleasure it must be to you through every suffering, to feel how your Altham has brought proofs to you of distinction in goodness & talent. Here is Arabel, who gives me a sketch of Mary’s prettiness– She was always a darling of mine, you know. And Edward is like Henrietta! That settles the question for Edward– But dont let Arabel take to teaching him—he’s too young for that. He’ll learn faster & remember better presently. They are children to be proud & thankful for,—& I dare say (I know that as a mother) you would rather pass through any personal suffering than be called, to see them suffer, as so many mothers have to do, watching by the sick beds of their soul’s darlings– May God hold you up, my beloved, & guard you from every kind of pain. My wish of being near you .. my yearning to being near you, is great—& yet I might perhaps be worse than nothing to you,—& to pray for you is my best. That guardian angel of all of us, that most darling Arabel, is with you—and dearest Surtees whom I feel for with a true sisterly tenderness, tell him– He has been & is everything to you–
Our weather here is most extraordinary—“mad weather,” the Italians say,—& certainly in my experience I never felt such weather in an Italian summer. For a fortnight we have had no heat—(at this time of year?) nothing but passionate rain at times, with thunder & lightning, & whirlwinds, rather than winds. The atmosphere is full of electricity—& my hair crackles like thorns. That is a new phase in my hair. Sparks are emitted in the dark—& so in a degree with Pen’s. Robert’s is very much so– I never observed the phenomenon in myself till within the last two or three years–
Little Pen has just ridden off to his Abbé. He is very much too much worked just now, I think, but the Abbé goes to Rome next month. The child rides to Mr Story’s house (a mile off) on his poney by himself, with a satchell full of books on his shoulder .. stays there four hours—(only half an hour in the middle for recreation) .. devotes two hours to music, & at least another hour to preparing his lessons for the Abbé. Poor Pen was never used to this sort of thing, & complains of his restricted playtime– May God love you my own Henrietta! Say to yourself whenever you please, “Ba is thinking of me now,” & be sure that you are right–
Yours in deep love–
Ba–
Address, cross-written on integral page: Mrs S. Cook.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: In private collection.
1. This letter was enclosed with letter 4719.
2. Giacinta de Gori Pannilini (née Orsini, 1825–86), daughter of Domenico Orsini, Duke of Gravina, Prince of Solofra, and his wife, Maria Luisa (née Torlonia). She married at Rome in 1842 Count Augusto de Gori Pannilini (1820–77), of Siena.
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