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The Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Volume II by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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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
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