The Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Volume II | Page 2

a political subject raised
to a high level by the genuine enthusiasm and fire with which it is
inspired, and these give it a value which lasts far beyond the moment of
the events which gave it birth. The execution, too, shows an advance on
most of Mrs. Browning's previous work. The dangerous experiments in
rhyming which characterised many of the poems in the volumes of
1844 are abandoned; the licences of language are less frequent; the
verse runs smoothly and is more uniformly under command. It would
appear as if the heat of inspiration which produced the 'Sonnets from
the Portuguese' had left a permanent and purifying effect upon her style.
The poem has been neglected by those who take little interest in Italy
and its history, and adversely criticised by those who do not sympathise
with its political and religious opinions; but with those who look only
to its poetry and to its warm-hearted championship of a great cause, it
will always hold a high place of its own among Mrs. Browning's
writings.
* * * * *
_To Miss I. Blagden_

Florence: May 1, [1851].
I am writing to you, dearest Miss Blagden, at last, you see; though you
must have excommunicated me before now as the most ungrateful of
correspondents and friends. Do forgive what you can--and your
kindness is so great that I believe you can, and shall go on to write as if
you did. We have been in the extremity of confusion and indecision.
Remember how the fairy princes used to do when they arrived at the
meeting of three roads, and had to consider what choice to make. How
they used to shake their heads and ponder, and end sometimes by
drawing lots! Much in the like perplexity have we been. Everything
was ready for Rome--the day fixed, the packing begun, the vettura
bargained for. Suddenly, visions of obstacles rose up. We were late in
the season. We should be late for the festas. May would be hot in Rome
for Wiedeman. Then two journeys, north and south, to Rome and
Naples, besides Paris and England, pulled fearfully at the purse-strings.
Plainly we couldn't afford it. So everything was stopped and changed.
We gave up Rome and you, and are now actually on the point of setting
out for Venice; Venice is to console us for Rome. We go to-morrow,
indeed. The plan is to stay a fortnight at Venice (or more or less, as the
charm works), and then to strike across to Milan; across the Splügen
into Switzerland, and to linger there among the hills and lakes for a part
of the summer, so working out an intention of economy; then down the
Rhine; then by railroad to Brussels; so to Paris, settling there; after
which we pay our visit to England for a few weeks. Early next spring
we mean to go to Rome and return here, either for good (which is very
possible) or for the purpose of arranging our house affairs and packing
up books and furniture. As it is, we have our apartment for another year,
and shall let it if we can. It has been painted, cleaned, and improved in
all ways, till my head and Robert's ring again with the confusion of it
all. Oh that we were gone, since we are to go! When out of sight of
Florence, we shall begin to enjoy, I hope, the sight of other things, but
as it is the impression is only painful and dizzying. Our friends Mr. and
Mrs. Ogilvy go with us as far as Venice, and then leave us on a direct
course for England, having committed their children and nurses to the
care of her sister at the Baths of Lucca meantime. We take with us only
Wilson.

Do write to me at Venice, Poste Restante, that I may know you are
thinking of me and excusing me kindly. If you knew how uncertain and
tormented we have been. I won't even ask Robert to add a line to this,
he is so overwhelmed with a flood of businesses; but he bids me speak
to you of him as affectionately and faithfully (because affectionately)
as I have reason to do. So kind it was in you to think of taking the
trouble of finding us an apartment! So really sensible we are to all your
warm-hearted goodness, with fullness of heart on our side too. And,
after all, we are not parting! Either we shall find you in Italy again, or
you will find us in Paris. I have a presentimental assurance of finding
one another again before long. Remember us and love us meantime.
As to your spiritual visitor--why, it would be hard to make out a system
of Romish doctrine from the