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 Spluegen 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 most Romish version of the S.S.[1] The
differences between the Protestant version and the Papistical are not
certainly justifiable by the Greek original, on the side of the latter.
In fact, the Papistical version does not pretend to follow the Greek
text, but a Latin translation of the same--it's a translation from a
translation. Granting it, however, to be faithful, I must repeat that to
make out the Romish system from even _such_ a Romish version could not
be achieved. So little does Scripture (however represented) seem to me
to justify that system of ecclesiastical doctrine and discipline. I
answer your question because you bid me, but I am not a bit frightened
at the idea of your becoming a R.C., however you may try to frighten me.
You have too much intelligence and uprightness of intellect. We do hope
you have enjoyed Rome, and that dearest Miss Agassiz (give our kind love
to her) is better and looks better than we all thought her a little
while ago. I have a book coming out in England called 'Casa Guidi
Windows,' which will prevent everybody else (except you) from speaking
to me again. Do love me always, as I shall you. Forgive me, and _don't_
forget me. I shall try, after a space of calm, to behave better to you,
and more after my _heart_--for I am ever (as Robert is)

Your faithfully affectionate friend,
ELIZABETH B. BROWNING.