2683. RB to Euphrasia Fanny Haworth
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 14, 239–240.
Florence,
June 29 1847.
Dear Miss Haworth–
I have let a long time go by since your letter reached me at Pisa—one reason was, that the parcel containing your book [1] ought to have arrived directly, but did not—and the gap of time once grown big, widens so insensibly! I wonder if you are in London,—at all events, I will thank you, and very sincerely, for both book and letter– I don’t know how the former may have “succeeded,” as people say—but the striking things ought to strike most where they are least expected,—which means, that I, who have known you long and prophesied about you loudly, am prepared for a good deal whenever you seriously address yourself to write or draw. But is it in you to take the trouble?—there my prophesyings dwindle into a mutter, or perhaps it is only said to bore you—for words are no use, you will do as you please. And I—(if you care to have such an illustration)—, I should not altogether wonder if I do something notable one of these days, all through a desperate virtue which determines out of gratitude—(not to man and the reading public by any means!)—to do, what I do not please .. I could, with an unutterably easy heart never write another line while I have my being—which would surely be very wrong considering how the lines fall to poets in the places of this world generally– So I mean to do my best whatever comes of it—meantime, (not a stone’s cast from the housetop under which I write) sleep, watch, and muse those surpassing statues of Michael Angelo, [2] —about the merits of which there are very various opinions, as you know–
What can I tell you about myself? I have been here some ten weeks,—gone like a day! The weather which threatened excessive heat, in May, has become quite cool and propitious, so that I hope to be able to stay even till the middle of July. My wife, who had an illness at Pisa, is quite well. We go about, sit on the bridge and see people pass, or take an ice inside Doney’s, after the vulgarest fashion– We know next to nobody,—Powers the Sculptor, we see every now and then, and have made a pleasant acquaintance with the Hoppners, the old friends of Byron– But what do you think we are setting our hearts upon? —A permission to go and stay at Vallombrosa—a real month or two month’s stay—but the Abbot-General is said to be savage on the subject, just now, and everything is to be feared– “Whether, if we wrote him a mollifying latin letter?” says my wife[.] “Rather a Greek one,” say I, “and so stifle the old fellow at once”– We do not despair, but that is all.
To day, being St. Peter’s feast, ends the time of feasts– We saw by a pure accident, on turning the edge of our street, the horse race,—but we took quite trouble enough to see the notable “Cocchi” or chariots, last Wednesday [3] —and I can warrant you that a better spectacle waits you every day that a man calls a cab and four leave the stand to dispute his custom—but the fireworks in the evening, with the illumination of the Arno, were magnificent–
July 4. We have got a kind of recommendation tantamount to a permission to go and stay at Vallombrosa, and there we hope to pass a few cool weeks accordingly at this month’s end: the weather is very bearable and we can easily stay till then– Whom do you know that I know in London? If you see Mrs Gibson you shall remember me to her. [4] How I thank you for the portrait of my sister—which may be more like the person you see in her, than my particular fancies—and yet it is not unlike even those—the features, understand, are clearly hers—only the expression strikes me as not the accustomed one. I have put it here, opposite me–
Good bye, dear Miss Haworth– I cannot write, out of the very fullness of matter—one day perhaps I sha<ll> see you and talk it all over—as you propose—but in any case I shall always keep your kindness and sympathy in my mind and heart– Meantime, I am glad you know the Arnoulds—my very dear friends too– Also you are good to like Sarianna—who would be angry if I simply said that she “liked” you! What good people there are in the world, and at London, when one is away at Florence! Will you write to me, not in return for this notable piece of penmanship, but for your own friendship’s sake?—which is, always of the old value, to yours ever faithfully
RB
My wife sends her truest regards—she continues very well.
Address, on integral page: Miss Haworth / London.
Publication: NL, pp. 42–45.
Manuscript: Yale University.
1. St. Sylvester’s Day, and Other Poems (1847) contained “illustrative designs by the author,” and RB’s remarks here may be explained by some of Fanny Haworth’s comments in the preface: “I send forth my little book into the world with such faint hope of what is called success, that I can scarcely be disappointed if it remain unknown and unnoticed by any but those few who are likely to be more partial than critical judges.”
2. The tombs of Lorenzo and Giuliano de’Medici, grandson and son of Lorenzo the Magnificent, in the New Sacristy of the Church of San Lorenzo. Lorenzo, deep in meditation, and Giuliano, watchfully active, face each other across the sacristy. Reclining at their feet are symbolic representations of Night, Day, Dawn and Twilight. These six Michaelangelo statues were well known to RB and EBB; EBB describes them passionately in Casa Guidi Windows, I, 73–97, as waiting the new dawn of Italian liberty.
4. Doubtless Mrs. Thomas Milner Gibson, with whom RB was acquainted in London (see letter 2517, note 2). Her name appears in RB’s address book (see vol. 9, p. 391).
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