4217. EBB to Euphrasia Fanny Haworth
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 25, 180–183.
Maison Versigny– 2, Rue de Perry
Le Havre.
July 23. [1858] [1]
My dearest Fanny I have your letter and am quite concerned that you have not mine which I wrote to you from Paris long ago [2] .. in fact, immediately on our arrival,—directing it as you bade me, to Casa Pepi, Via Pepi—perhaps I should have mentioned the name ‘Tassinari’– Write again, & tell me where for the future you are to be hit upon– So sorry I am that you should have had a thought of a shade of care about me, who have’nt deserved it, inasmuch as I have been well, gaining strength & improving in looks, they say– It sounds pathetical, that Wilson should be called your only friend in Florence—and I do wonder at the Villa incivility– [3] Are you sure there was no mistake? nothing which forbade a note explanatory of a previous engagement, reaching you in time. Because you know there are delays, particularly at villas, when letters are irregularly sent for– I have a letter from Isa by this same post, & she speaks of having missed you & asked you to come instead on the next monday–
You dont say how you pass your time at the villa– [4] With merely headache, poor dearest Fanny?– How sorry I am that you should suffer so– Was it ennui, do you think? Mdme Tassinari is admirable in her music– Keep her to that point. When Frederick Tennyson had his concerts at Florence, she required no practice & preparation to take the piano-part in the most learned pieces of Beethoven &c, & did it to the wonder of the Tuscan artists– Also, she’s clever, I believe, about cows—which is’nt exactly in my way, or in yours—except that we both like living in clover & chewing the cud in green meadows afterwards, if you please. But even that’s rather sympathy with the cows than with her, now I consider it deeply– I gave you an account of our journey to Paris which I wont write over again, especially as you may have read some things like it– In Paris we remained a fortnight except a day, & I liked it as I always like Paris for which I have a decided fancy—and yet I did nothing, except in one shop, and in a fiacre driving round & round—and sometimes at a restaurant, dining round & round. But Paris is so full of life, murmurs so of the fountain of intellectual youth for ever & ever, that rolling up the rue de Rivoli (much more the Boulevards) suggests a quicker beat of the fancy’s heart,—and I like it, I like it– The architectural beauty is wonderful. Give me Venice on water, Paris on land—each in its way is a dream-city– If one had but the sun there, such a sun as one has in Italy– Or if one had no lungs here,—such lungs as are in me!– But no. Under actual circumstances, something different from Paris must satisfy me– Also, when all’s said & sighed, I love Italy, I love my Florence! I should, even if I had no other friend there but dear Wilson!– I love that “hole of a place” as Father Prout called it lately—with all its dust, its cobwebs, its spiders even, I love it—& with somewhat of the kind of blind stupid respectable obstinate love which people feel when they talk of “beloved native lands”– I feel this for Italy, by mistake for England: Florence is my chimney-corner where I can sulk in & be happy– But you have’nt come to that yet– In spite of which, you will like the Baths of Lucca, just as you like Florence, for certain advantages, for the exquisite beauty, & the sense of abstraction from the vulgarities & vexations of the age, which is the secret of the strange charm of the south perhaps—who knows.? And yet there are vulgarities & vexations even in Tuscany, if one digs for them—or does’nt dig, sometimes.
Dearest Fanny, tell me if you have better letters from England, & are more easy in your own mind–
I saw Miss Blackwell who was in London lately, & talked marvelling of the spiritual developments there– She said that at Dr Wilkinson’s [5] she just missed a spiritual soirée, at which seventy persons met, the room being scattered over with small tables where the operations took place—writing & drawing seemed the commoner manifestations,—spirits drawing, by the medium’s hand, portraits of other spirits, which were recognized by persons who had lost friends—speaking likenesses– Hair of male spirits usually divided in the middle, but otherwise identical– She heard that Mrs Milner Gibson had seen & touched the hand of her father, [6] so tender in benediction that she had lost some painful sense of alienation from him.
In Paris, we saw Father Prout who was in great force & kindness—& Charles Sumner, passing through the burning torture under the hands of French surgeons,—which was approved of by the brains of English surgeons. Do you remember the Jesuit’s agony, in the Juif Errant? [7] Precisely that. Exposed to the living coal for seven minutes,—& the burns taking six weeks to heal. Mr Sumner refused chloroform, .. from some foolish heroic principle, I imagine,—& suffered intensely. Of course he is not able to stir for some time after the operation, & cant read or sleep from the pain– Now, he is just “healed,” & is allowed to travel for two months, after which he is to return & be burned again– Is’nt it a true martyrdom, I ask? What is apprehended, is paralysis, or, at best, nervous infirmity for life, from the effect of the blows, (on the spine), of that savage– [8]
Then, just as we arrived in Paris, dear Lady Elgin had another ‘stroke,’ & was all but gone– She rallied however, with her wonderful vitality, & we left her sitting in her garden,—fixed to the chair of course, & not able to speak a word, nor even to gesticulate distinctly, but with the eloquent soul full & radiant, yes, & smiling in her face, alive to both worlds– Robert & I sate there, talking politics & on other subjects, & there she sate & let no word drop unanswered by her bright eyes & smile– It was a beautiful sight– Robert fed her with a spoon from her soup-plate—& she signed, as well as she could, that he should kiss her forehead before he went away. She was always so fond of Robert– As women are apt to be, you know– Even I,—a little.
Have you heard any more of the Dickens affair? [9] How terrible– She is living separated, on six hundred a year– I understand that certain friends absolutely deny the actress story, [10] and attribute the whole evil to Miss Hogarth’s usurpation of all power & respect in the family– Mrs Dickens submitted for a long time, & at last struck work. [11] She would have an opinion to give in the education of her own children, for instance– When she spoke, it was too late– Husband & children turned against her, and it was she who had to go– I who dont care for power, perfectly sympathize with her, if the case was as represented–
For the other scandal .. Lady Lytton has got out of the madhouse & gained her point– Debts are paid, & the allowance is doubled. And as to the madhouse, the imputation is rather upon him than upon her—though I do not at all doubt the excess of provocation on her part– [12]
And poor, poor Macready– It was Lily who died [13] —just sixteen,—lovely and sweet, says Forster, who doubts if Macready ever will get over it– The malady was scarlatina–
Forster wrote the other day, melancholy with the misfortunes of his friends .. though he does’nt name Dickens. Landor had just fled to his (Forster’s) house in London, for protection from an action for Libel–
See what a letter I have written– Write to me dearest Fanny, & love me– Oh, how glad I shall be to be back among you again in my Florence.
Your affectionate Ba–
Robert’s & Pen’s love–
Sarianna & her father are in an apartment in this house—& she will be glad of your remembrance when I meet her at dinner.
Address: <To>scane– / à Mademoiselle / Mademoiselle Fanny Haworth / aux soins de Madame Tassinari / Casa Pepi / Via Pepi / Florence.
Publication: LEBB, II, 285–287 (in part).
Manuscript: Fitzwilliam Museum.
1. Year provided by postmark.
3. As EBB indicates by mentioning Isa Blagden below, this remark concerns Villa Brichieri, not Villa Tassinari.
4. i.e., Villa Tassinari.
5. James John Garth Wilkinson (1812–99); see letter 3689, note 4.
6. Thomas Gery Cullum (1777–1855), 8th Baronet, of Hardwick House, Suffolk. Mrs. Milner-Gibson was his only child.
7. In Eugene Sue’s anti-Catholic novel, Le Juif errant (1844–45), the Jesuit M. Rodin was burned on the chest to treat a lung and circulation disorder, a treatment similar to Charles Sumner’s (see letter 4212, note 10).
8. Preston S. Brooks (1819–57); see letter 4212, note 10.
10. A rumor that Dickens and the actress Ellen Lawless (“Nelly”) Ternan (1839–1914) were romantically involved. He first met her in July 1857 when she was invited to join his production of Wilkie Collins’s The Frozen Deep to be performed at Manchester (see Dickens, 8, 433n).
11. Most of what is known of the Dickenses’ marriage problems comes from Dickens himself and is, therefore, unreliable. But it seems fair to say that both parties were unhappy: Dickens, because he had grown tired of his wife; Mrs. Dickens, because her husband had grown tired of her. His attachment for Miss Ternan provided him with the incentive to separate.
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