But I am too weak for this
task, the last I had set myself; it is death that stops my pen, you
see, and not the pension.
God bless you, Sir, and prosper all your measures for the benefit of
my beloved country.
ROBERT BROWNING
1812-1889
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
1806-1861
To LEIGH HUNT
_A joint epistle_
Bagni di Lucca, 6 _Oct_. 1857.
DEAR LEIGH HUNT,
(It is hard to write, but you bade me do so; yet I had better say
'Master Hunt', as they used to call Webster or Ford.) A nine months'
silence after such a letter as yours seems too strange even to you
perhaps. So understand that you gave us more delight at once than we
could bear, that was the beginning of the waiting to recover spirit
and try and do one's feeling a little less injustice. But soon
followed unexpected sorrows to us and to you, and the expression of
even gratitude grew hard again. Certainly all this while your letter
has been laid before our very eyes, and we have waited for a brighter
day than ever came till we left Florence two months ago and more, then
we brought it to 'answer' among the chestnut trees; but immediately
on our arrival a friend was attacked by fever, and we were kept in
anxiety about him for six weeks. At last he recovered sufficiently to
leave for Florence, and (just think) our little boy became ill,
for the first time in his life, and gave us solicitude enough for a
fortnight: it is nothing now that it is over; he is going about now
almost as well as before, and we go away to-morrow, as I said.
Pages:
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419
420