Life and Letters of Robert Browning [59]
circumstances of that life:
among them, his wife's probable incitement to, and certain sympathy with,
the proceeding.
The projected winter in Rome had been given up, I believe against
the doctor's advice, on the strength of the greater attractions of Florence.
Our next extract is dated from thence, Dec. 8, 1847.
==
`. . . Think what we have done since I last wrote to you. Taken two houses,
that is, two apartments, each for six months, presigning the contract.
You will set it down to excellent poet's work in the way of domestic economy,
but the fault was altogether mine, as usual. My husband, to please me,
took rooms which I could not be pleased with three days
through the absence of sunshine and warmth. The consequence was that
we had to pay heaps of guineas away, for leave to go away ourselves --
any alternative being preferable to a return of illness --
and I am sure I should have been ill if we had persisted in staying there.
You can scarcely fancy the wonderful difference which the sun makes in Italy.
So away we came into the blaze of him in the Piazza Pitti;
precisely opposite the Grand Duke's palace; I with my remorse,
and poor Robert without a single reproach. Any other man,
a little lower than the angels, would have stamped and sworn a little
for the mere relief of the thing -- but as to HIS being angry with ME
for any cause except not eating enough dinner, the said sun
would turn the wrong way first. So here we are in the Pitti till April,
in small rooms yellow with sunshine from morning till evening,
and most days I am able to get out into the piazza and walk up and down
for twenty minutes without feeling a breath of the actual winter . . .
and Miss Boyle, ever and anon, comes at night, at nine o'clock,
to catch us at hot chestnuts and mulled wine, and warm her feet at our fire --
and a kinder, more cordial little creature, full of talent and accomplishment
never had the world's polish on it. Very amusing she is too, and original;
and a good deal of laughing she and Robert make between them.
And this is nearly all we see of the Face Divine -- I can't make Robert go out
a single evening. . . .'
==
We have five extracts for 1848. One of these, not otherwise dated,
describes an attack of sore-throat which was fortunately Mr. Browning's last;
and the letter containing it must have been written
in the course of the summer.
==
`. . . My husband was laid up for nearly a month with fever
and relaxed sore-throat. Quite unhappy I have been over those burning hands
and languid eyes -- the only unhappiness I ever had by him.
And then he wouldn't see a physician, and if it had not been
that just at the right moment Mr. Mahoney, the celebrated Jesuit,
and "Father Prout" of Fraser, knowing everything as those Jesuits
are apt to do, came in to us on his way to Rome, pointed out to us
that the fever got ahead through weakness, and mixed up with his own kind hand
a potion of eggs and port wine; to the horror of our Italian servant,
who lifted up his eyes at such a prescription for fever,
crying, "O Inglesi! Inglesi!" the case would have been far worse,
I have no kind of doubt, for the eccentric prescription
gave the power of sleeping, and the pulse grew quieter directly.
I shall always be grateful to Father Prout -- always.'*
--
* It had not been merely a case of relaxed sore-throat.
There was an abscess, which burst during this first night of sleep.
--
==
==
May 28.
`. . . And now I must tell you what we have done since I wrote last,
little thinking of doing so. You see our problem was, to get to England
as much in summer as possible, the expense of the intermediate journeys
making it difficult of solution. On examination of the whole case,
it appeared manifest that we were throwing money into the Arno, by our way
of taking furnished rooms, while to take an apartment and furnish it
would leave us a clear return of the furniture at the end of the first year
in exchange for our outlay, and all but a
among them, his wife's probable incitement to, and certain sympathy with,
the proceeding.
The projected winter in Rome had been given up, I believe against
the doctor's advice, on the strength of the greater attractions of Florence.
Our next extract is dated from thence, Dec. 8, 1847.
==
`. . . Think what we have done since I last wrote to you. Taken two houses,
that is, two apartments, each for six months, presigning the contract.
You will set it down to excellent poet's work in the way of domestic economy,
but the fault was altogether mine, as usual. My husband, to please me,
took rooms which I could not be pleased with three days
through the absence of sunshine and warmth. The consequence was that
we had to pay heaps of guineas away, for leave to go away ourselves --
any alternative being preferable to a return of illness --
and I am sure I should have been ill if we had persisted in staying there.
You can scarcely fancy the wonderful difference which the sun makes in Italy.
So away we came into the blaze of him in the Piazza Pitti;
precisely opposite the Grand Duke's palace; I with my remorse,
and poor Robert without a single reproach. Any other man,
a little lower than the angels, would have stamped and sworn a little
for the mere relief of the thing -- but as to HIS being angry with ME
for any cause except not eating enough dinner, the said sun
would turn the wrong way first. So here we are in the Pitti till April,
in small rooms yellow with sunshine from morning till evening,
and most days I am able to get out into the piazza and walk up and down
for twenty minutes without feeling a breath of the actual winter . . .
and Miss Boyle, ever and anon, comes at night, at nine o'clock,
to catch us at hot chestnuts and mulled wine, and warm her feet at our fire --
and a kinder, more cordial little creature, full of talent and accomplishment
never had the world's polish on it. Very amusing she is too, and original;
and a good deal of laughing she and Robert make between them.
And this is nearly all we see of the Face Divine -- I can't make Robert go out
a single evening. . . .'
==
We have five extracts for 1848. One of these, not otherwise dated,
describes an attack of sore-throat which was fortunately Mr. Browning's last;
and the letter containing it must have been written
in the course of the summer.
==
`. . . My husband was laid up for nearly a month with fever
and relaxed sore-throat. Quite unhappy I have been over those burning hands
and languid eyes -- the only unhappiness I ever had by him.
And then he wouldn't see a physician, and if it had not been
that just at the right moment Mr. Mahoney, the celebrated Jesuit,
and "Father Prout" of Fraser, knowing everything as those Jesuits
are apt to do, came in to us on his way to Rome, pointed out to us
that the fever got ahead through weakness, and mixed up with his own kind hand
a potion of eggs and port wine; to the horror of our Italian servant,
who lifted up his eyes at such a prescription for fever,
crying, "O Inglesi! Inglesi!" the case would have been far worse,
I have no kind of doubt, for the eccentric prescription
gave the power of sleeping, and the pulse grew quieter directly.
I shall always be grateful to Father Prout -- always.'*
--
* It had not been merely a case of relaxed sore-throat.
There was an abscess, which burst during this first night of sleep.
--
==
==
May 28.
`. . . And now I must tell you what we have done since I wrote last,
little thinking of doing so. You see our problem was, to get to England
as much in summer as possible, the expense of the intermediate journeys
making it difficult of solution. On examination of the whole case,
it appeared manifest that we were throwing money into the Arno, by our way
of taking furnished rooms, while to take an apartment and furnish it
would leave us a clear return of the furniture at the end of the first year
in exchange for our outlay, and all but a