4061. EBB to Euphrasia Fanny Haworth
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 24, 153–156.
[Bagni di Lucca]
Monday– Sept 28– [1857] [1]
You will understand too well why I have waited some days before answering your letter, dearest Fanny, though you bade me write at once, when I tell you that my own precious Penini has been ill with gastric fever & is even now confined to his bed– Eleven days ago, when he was looking like a live rose & in an exaggeration of spirits, he proposed to go with me to run by my portantina [2] in which I went to pay a visit some mile & a half away– The portantini men walked too fast for him, & he was tired & heated. Then while I paid my visit, he played by the river with a child of the house, & returned with me in the dark. He complained of being tired during the return & I took him up into my portantina for ten minutes– He was overtired however, overheated, overchilled, & the next day had fever & complained of his head. We did not think much of it,—and the morning after he seemed so recovered that we took him with us to dine in the mountains with some American friends (the Eckleys—did you hear of them in Rome?)—twenty miles in the carriage, & ten miles on donkey-back. He was in high spirits, & came home at night singing at the top of his voice—probably to keep off the creeping sense of illness, for he has confessed since that he felt unwell even then. The next day the fever set in. The medical man doubted whether it was measles, scarlatina, or what, .. but soon the symptoms took the decisive aspect. He has been in bed, strictly confined to bed since last sunday week night—strictly confined, except for one four hours, after which exertion he had a relapse. It is the same fever as Mr Lytton’s—only not as severe I thank God—the attacks coming on at night chiefly, & terrifying us, as you may suppose– The child’s sweetness & goodness too, his patience & gentleness, have been very trying– He said to me, .. “You pet! dont be unhappy for me. Think it’s a poor little boy in the street, and be just only a little sorry, and not unhappy at all.”– Well, we may thank God that the bad time seems passed. He is still in bed, but it is matter of precaution chiefly. The fever is quite in abeyance,—has been for two days, and we have all to be grateful for two most tranquil nights. He amuses himself in putting maps together, & cutting out paper, and packing up his desk to go to Florence, which is the idée fixe just now. In fact when he can be moved we shall not wait here a day, for the rains have set in, & the dry elastic air of Florence will be excellent for him. The medical man (an Italian) promises us almost that we may be able to go in a week from this time,—but we wont hurry, we will run no risks. For some days he has been allowed no other sort of nourishment but ten des[s]ert spoonfuls of thin broth twice a day—literally nothing; not a morsel of bread, not a drop of tea, .. nothing– Even now the only change is, a few more spoonfuls of the same broth. It is hard,—for his appetite cries out loud,—& he has agonizing visions of beefstake pies & buttered toast, seen in mirage. Still his spirits dont fail on the whole—and now that the fever is all but gone, they rise, till we have to beg him to be quiet & not to talk so much. He had the flowergirl in by his bedside yesterday, & it was quite impossible to help laughing, so many Florentine airs, did he show off. “Per Baccho, ho un fame terribile, e non voglio aver piu pazienza con questo Dottore.” [3] The doctor however seems skilful. Altogether we were distressed– Dr Trotman, the only capable English physician here had returned to Florence, & we were thrown on the natives– Then Wilson had to leave us in the midst, [4] which she did, poor thing, with many tears, .. but she could do nothing & there was danger to her in her staying; and we were thrown on a new maid’s services, an Italian who had come to me the day before– Think what a complication– But the mercy was that Penini, in spite of all his previous prejudices against a stranger, took an immediate fancy to Annunciata, and that she turns out to be one of those enchanted new brooms which runs of itself to wells for water & is never idle a moment– [5] She really is a wonder of a woman, to judge by these days & nights, never tired, always cheerful, .. rather accomplished too as a maid in hair-dressing & dress-making,—& “tells novelle,” says Peni, “quite finely! stories of the devil, & how he rides on a golden saddle & with a silver bridle!–” par Bacco!
But you may think how worn out I have been in body & soul & how under these circumstances we think little of Jerusalem or of any other place but our home at Florence. Still, we shall probably pass the winter either at Rome or Naples, but I know no more than a swaddled baby, which. Also we shant know, probably, till the end of november when we take out our passports– Doubt is our element.
Did’nt I mention Annette Bracken? We saw much of her however– She rode with Robert, & escaped to this house from the nursing in the house opposite, [6] a good deal. There is a great deal of good in her, & I liked her myself better, through knowing her better.
As to “cooling about the spirits”! I [7] cool about the spirits! Oh no. On the contrary. The hot spring in me grows hotter. But there is a chasm between believing that there are spirits .. and believing that these spirits are infallible .. or even authentic. I have heard much on the subject this summer, and I believe as strongly as I can believe on any subject, that the manifestations are spiritual– Only, .. to take my “creed,” theological or moral, from Dr Ressinger’s table, [8] is a sort of fanaticism to which I have the smallest possible temptation. My interest grows deeper & deeper, however, in the general subject, the more I hear,—so tell me more. But observe, I do not wonder at the result of the meeting you speak of, because very few unbelievers (& those not the deepest thinkers) can be converted, I should think, by the species of manifestations current at Geneva. [9] The external manifestations are the things to convince unbelievers. But I have said this, over & over–
I sympathize with all your misadventures. How vexatious about those boxes–
I am sure that when we sit face to face you will have a great deal to tell me– Be as wise as you can, meanwhile. I shall be glad when you have left Geneva for one reason. [10] Dont go to Rome too early, on account of the fever– For the rest, you will do well in following your instincts.
Poor Romano! [11] After all however, Italy is not favorable to dogs—& travelling with dogs is not favorable to human travellers–
I must go to my Peni. I am almost happy about him now. And yet– Oh, his lovely rosy cheeks, his round fat little shoulders, his strength & spring of a month ago!—at the best, we must lose our joy & pride in these for a time– May God bless you. I know you will feel for me, & that makes me so egotistical.
Your ever affectionate Ba
Publication: LEBB, II, 273–275 (in part).
Manuscript: Fitzwilliam Museum.
1. Year provided by EBB’s references to Pen’s illness.
2. “Sedan chair.”
3. “By Bacchus, I’m awfully hungry, and I don’t want to have any more patience with this Doctor.”
4. Wilson, seven months pregnant, had been ill (see letter 4043) and had returned to Florence on Saturday, 26 September (see RB’s part of letter 4063).
5. An allusion to Goethe’s poem “Der Zauberlehrling” (1797), (“The Sorcerer’s Apprentice”).
6. i.e., the Pelicano hotel.
7. Underscored twice.
10. Perhaps a reference to another suitor.
11. We have been unable to trace any further reference to Romano, evidently Fanny Haworth’s pet dog.
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