Volume I Part 35 (2/2)

”I am glad to get back to my old den, Casa Cap., where I write more at ease and am freer from intrusions than here. Pray let me have No. 2 'Tony' to look over again, and send me No. 3 in the _form and quant.i.ty_ it will appear in the Magazine. Above all, let your people be sure to send me 'Maga.'

”These Italians are making immense warlike preparations. This week the king reviews 360 pieces of artillery,--more than half the number rifled guns. By the end of the month the fleet--now a very respectable squadron--will manouvre before him. Whatever wars France may engage in these poor devils are sure to partake of. Nice and Savoy are only instalments of the price they are to pay for Solferino.”

_To Mr John Blackwood._

”Casa Capponi, Florence, _Oct_. 1, 1863.

”I was called here by telegraph too late to see my only son alive. He died of a ruptured bloodvessel on Wednesday last.

”I have for some years back had many misfortunes; this one fills the cup. I am as bereaved as one can be. My wife is dying, and this shock may be her last. I have no right to obtrude upon you with these, but I think you will pity me. Pity is indeed my portion, for one more broken there cannot be. If I had not begun with you, I would not now, in justice to you, continue. You will serve us both by drawing out what I have written to a fifth number if possible. If not, I will do my utmost to be ready; four parts there are.

”Pray forgive me in all this affliction that I mix you up with what should not touch you.

”My poor boy was twenty-six,--the finest, boldest, and cleverest fellow you ever saw, and one of the handsomest.”

_To Mr John Blackwood._

”Casa Capponi, Florence, _Oct_. 12,1863.

”I can never forget your kind and feeling note.* Broken and crushed as I am, I am not yet insensible to such kindness. If you only knew how we lived with our children, how much we mingled in their lives and they in ours! It was but the other day my poor boy came back from India after seven years' absence, and the feeling that we were all together again had but just dawned on us.

*_From Mr John Blackwood to Mr Charles Lever._

”Oct. 5,1868.

”I am truly distressed to hear of the sad affliction that has come upon you in the death of your only son. G.o.d comfort you, and grant that your poor wife may be supported under this heavy blow. Do not disturb yourself about your tale. I will make arrangements to suit a man suffering under sorrow such as yours. We can either shorten the parts or suspend publication at the end of the fourth part for a month if you are not ready. All the opinions I hear of the first part are highly favourable, and would, under other circ.u.mstances, be highly gratifying to you. If I see any comments in the press likely to interest you, I shall send them to you. All your novels bespeak the writer a warm-hearted man, and I think much of you in your affliction. I showed your affecting note to my wife, who, although like myself personally a stranger to you, joins me in warm sympathy.”

”My poor wife, too,--for two years a great sufferer from an internal inflammation,--was happier than I had seen her for many a day, and when I repined or complained about something, said to me, 'Well, never grumble about such disasters; remember all that we have to be thankful for, and that death has never come amongst us. .h.i.therto.' It was but one week after that we lost him.

”From my heart. I thank you for your sympathy, all the more, too, that you a.s.sociated your wife in your sorrow for us.

”P.S.--It will be better for me, I believe, that I must work, and work hard; the tired head may help the heavy heart after all.”

_To Mr Alexander Spencer._

”Casa Capponi, Florence, _Oct_. 17, 1863.

”Your kindest of notes was very dear to me at this, the saddest day of my life. My poor boy was taken away almost in a moment. Some internal rupture, followed by great haemorrhage, overcame him, and he sank at once and never rallied even to consciousness.

”The great struggle of my life was his advancement,--to place him in a high and honourable position; and to maintain him there was an effort for which I toiled and laboured till I had parted with the little my years of industry had gathered, sold my copyrights, and left myself penniless, even to the poverty that I could scarcely collect enough to pay the expenses of the churchyard where I laid him. So much for human foresight! All my love and all my tact to be under the small mound of the churchyard!

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