From H. E. Darwin to Emma Darwin 1 April [1866]

Dearst Mamy—

I was so glad of your long letter—one seems to get so much more out of it than ever so many little ones. I am so glad to hear of your poor head being better at last and of Papa being well enough to enjoy D^r H. I'm very sorry to have missed him but I hope he'll come & pay us a gooseberry visit this year. As Aunt Sue wants to hear of my news I will write this letter specially well that you mayn't be ashamed to send it on. I have some of Laura's pens so I ought to write a lovely hand. I am very glad to hear Aunt S. was up to enjoying Aunt Jessie's visit. Mary's day is getting very near—at least if it is the 12^th as I think. (Please do pay for the fan before I forget & my linen gown if a bill comes—that rascally Eff hasn't gone and got herself one as she promised she would, & her alpaca is much cheaper!) My poor sickies aren't much better— Miss Smith's cold is better, but now she has a cold in her eyes & I've had to get D^r Battersley again & to write her letters for her & read aloud just as it might be when you and Papa are both bad—and the wind is howling & the rain pelting down in the most disgustingly English manner. Elinor, I am very sorry to say, is very unwell—I am half afraid that she may not get the good she hoped—though as this is a cold I hope I am unreasonable—but it is very aggravating & dismal for her—shut up in dismal little rooms with nothing to do. I have the satisfaction of feeling that they w^d. be 10 times more dismal without me. I am very glad to hear that you haven't found my absence long— I daresay it seems much longer to me. Have I told you what our Pension consists of? A Roman Cat man—very ill & very weak in his mind much given to mild flirting with a very silly, consumptive looking, narrow chested girl with an impediment in her speech— Sprightly Miss Pocklington who is much given to rushing up into poor Miss Smith's bedroom is also sick, but a lady of great energy & so High in her opinions that her bosom friend's mother confides to me that ""she fears Miss P. is treading a very dangerous path."" Oh me the Church that has gone on today is something terrific! I can't think what all these weakly women are made of— It began at 8 (this is Pock's programme) ending at half past 9 then up she rushed to E.'s bedroom where I was quietly sitting trusting that an englishman's bedroom was his castle as much in Cannes as in England & informed me that if I wanted to go to church I must be there at least by $\frac{1}{2}$ past 10—which I knew perfectly & she knew that I knew. She went off to Church at 10 as amateur pew opener— service ended at 20 m. to 1—no not so soon—then service again at 3 and again amateur pew opening— I wasn't going to demean myself by following Pock.'s advice & so was rewarded by a nice cool seat in the Porch—church being crammed—& sat by a good little Buttons who hopped off to fetch his missises cloaks when he saw it was going to rain—and returned— I hopped off & didn't return thus saving my crepe. In the afternoon I went a sweet walk in the Villa garden close by. It belongs to M^r Woolfield who built the church & a very pretty house for him self & he allows all the English to come in who will leave a card on him— this is the 2^nd. lovely villa that is so liberal. It was so charming—the rain had stopped—but had brought out every perfume so that one felt intoxicated with the mixture. Oh! such a garden—mother—as neat as in England & yet such luxuriance—& such variety—great white climbing roses festooned up above & underneath all kinds of lovely flowers—& two trees in front of stone steps of the accacia (golden balled) that you see in Hot houses making such a blaze of colour you didn't want sun—salvias all flower & such fat flowers—wisterias mezembrianthemum as big as a little teacup—hedges of lavender & cypress & many charming & lovely shrubs utterly unknown to me—the ivy even is quite different to ours—leaves 3 or 4 times as big as ours & a lovely pale soft green making it look as if it had come up in a day— He has an orange garden just below his tangled mass of shrubs & flowers then a flower garden & row of Cypresses & a terrace & then the horrid wicked railway cuts him off from the sea. Climbing up some rocks under a stone pine you have the most lovely view of the Estrelles—but I'm going in too heavily for the pictureskew & will say goodnight— Elinor is better & has been taking up all my time laying on my bed, & I am sleepy. I am growing fat & have to unbutton my gown of an evening you'll be glad to hear. I certainly do feel wonderfully well—Isn't this well written? Won't you send a testimonial to Laura?

Monday morning— I am sorry to say I don't think Miss S. is the least bit better—in fact worse & goodness only knows when we shall leave Cannes which they both want to do as they have taken a hatred to it owing to having fallen sick here— I don't think it so enchanting as I was led to expect it wd be. I hope Elinor is a shade better—she looks more cheerful & is going to get up. It is a blessing I'm not sick too. I was very glad of yours & Lizzie's letters— What an old goose Brodie is—I shall write to her as if I had heard nothing of it all cos I really can't condole with her on our want of attention— It is not so very long since she has heard I am sureQQQQ poor old soul— About Mad^lle. Tourganeff E. says she won't the least mind asking about the Origin & will do it when she is better— I wish Miss Verney wd come & take me another walk—It is rather dismal walking alone in a strange land. I think I shall take a drive this afternoon. Elinor has just informed me that she means to go too but I don't know whether I can allow it— D^r. Battersley doctors Miss S. & I am E's Herr Doctor— I have just met all the High Church ladies after their debauch of church looking v washed out & wretched— I hope their consciences feel very comfortable to make up for their headaches & back aches & throataches— They've been to church again this morning tho'— Oh! dear me—it makes us laugh up here— Did I tell you how Pock came & impressed my umbrella & cloak into the service of getting the Easter bonnets safely home through the rain— I think it really is rather lucky having such a set for I can always make Miss S. & Elinor scream—& I think it is good to have nonsense to gossip about in a sick room. Tell Papa I haven't been very clever with my botany—genus is as easy as Bentham but Gillet & Magne's specific descriptions are so desperately short one requires to be very accurate—but I have not always got good enough specimens. We are reading aloud Ecce Homo which does very well—& suits us all—but as I feared & expected I do not find it suit me —at least I can't realise its explanation of difficulties—they are just as much difficulties—& I never can help feeling with the Bible as with Shakspere that they will distort such simple words into such abstract meanings—but it is very interesting—by the way it is ours so don't buy it—if you have bought it Elinor will take it off my hands. I feel very sticky in this letter and am writing off my very grounds— The weather—which is deeply interesting—Stormy, blustery, clouds & sunshine—not cold & not warm— You sound better off. I am sure we shant leave this for another week so write again here & they can forward it so it is better to write too often here than too soon to `"Poste Restante Menton France not Mentone— I shall go & call on M^rs Woolfields today & praise her lovely garden— tomorrow we expect to see Miss Verney. I think this letter has turned out too dull to be sent on to Aunt Sue.

Love to Papa & L. your dearest Mamy H. E. D.

Please send enclosed to Brodie