Florence: May 13, [1855].

My dearest Madame Braun,--You have classed me and ticketed me before
now, I think, as among the ungrateful of the world; yet I am grateful,
grateful, grateful! When your book[42] came (how very kind you were to
send it to me!) and when I had said so some five times running, in came
somebody who was _fanatico per Roma_, and reverential in proportion for
Dr. Braun, who with some sudden appeal to my sensibility--the softer
just then that I was only just recovering strength after a sharp winter
attack--swept the volume off the table and carried it off out of the
house to study the contents at leisure. I expected it back the next
week, but it lingered. And I really hadn't the audacity to write to you
and say, 'Thank you, but I have looked as yet simply at the title-page.'
Well, at last it comes home, and I turn the leaves, examine, read,
approve, like Ludovisi and the Belvedere, with a double pleasure of
association and become _qualified_ properly to thank you and Dr. Braun
from Robert and myself for this gift to us and valuable contribution to
archaeological literature. I am only sorry I did not get to Rome after
the book; it would have helped my pleasure so, holding up the lanthorn
in dark places. So much suggestiveness in combination with so much
specific information makes a book (or a man) worth knowing.

Of late, other hindrances have come to writing this, in the shape of
various labours of Hercules, which fall sometimes to Omphale as well. We
go to England in a week or two or three, and we take between us some
sixteen thousand lines, eight on one side, eight on the other, which
ought to be ready for publication. I have not finished my seventh
thousand yet; Robert is at his mark. Then, I have to see that we have
shoes and stockings to go in, and that Penini's little trousers are
creditably frilled and tucked. Then, about twenty letters lie by me
waiting to be answered in time, so as to save me from a mobbing in
England. Then there are visits to be paid all round in Florence, to make
amends for the sins of the winter; visiting, like almsgiving, being put
generally in the place of virtue, when the latter is found too
inconvenient. Altogether, my head swims and my heart ticks before the
day's done, with positive weariness. For there are Penini's lessons, you
are to understand, besides the rest. And 'between the intersections,'
cod liver oil to be taken judiciously, in order to appear before my
English friends with due decency of corporeal coverture.

Well, now, do tell me, _shall_ you go to England, _you_? You will see my
reasons for being very interested. Oh, I hope you won't be snatched away
to Naples, or nailed down at Rome. Railroads open from Marseilles; the
Exhibition open at Paris! Surely, surely Dr. Braun will go to Paris to
see the Exhibition. His conscience won't let him off. Tell him too,
_from me_, that in London he may _see a spirit_ if he will go for it. I
have a letter from a friend who swears to me he has shaken hands with
three or four--'softer, more thrilling than any woman's hand'--'tenderly
touching'--think of that! The American 'medium' Hume is turning the
world upside down in London with this spiritual influx.

Let me remember to tell you. Your paper _was in the_ '_Athenaeum_.'
Therefore, if you were not paid for it, it was the more abominable.
Robert saw it with his own eyes, printed. When I heard from you that you
had heard nothing, I mentioned the circumstance to Mrs. Jameson in a
letter I was writing to her, and I do hope she has not neglected since
to give you some information at least. You are aware probably of the
excellent effect with which that kind Mrs. Procter has managed a private
subscription in behalf of dear Mrs. Jameson, in consequence of which she
will be placed in circumstances of ease for the rest of her life. Fanny
Kemble nobly gave a hundred pounds towards this good purpose. Mrs.
Jameson spoke in her last letter of coming to Italy this summer, and I
dare say we shall have the ill luck to lose her, miss her, cross her _en
route_, perhaps.

We hear from dear Mr. Kenyon and from Miss Bayley; each very well and
full of animation. If it were not for them, and my dear sisters, and one
or two other hands I shall care to clasp (beside the spirits!) I would
give much not to go north. Oh, we Italians grow out of the English bark;
it won't hold us after a time. Such a happy year I have had this last! I
do love Florence so! When Penini says, 'Sono Italiano, voglio essere
Italiano,' I agree with him perfectly.

So we shall come back of course, if we live; indeed, we leave this house
ready to come back to, meaning, if we can, to let our rooms simply.

Little Penini looks like a rose, and has, besides, the understanding and
sweetness of a creature 'a little lower than the angels.' I don't care
any less for him than I did, upon the whole.

I hear the Sartoris's think of Paris for next winter, and mean to give
up Rome. She has been a good deal secluded, until quite lately, they
say, on account of her father's death and brother's worse than death,
which may account in part for any backwardness you may have observed. As
to her 'not liking Dr. Braun,' do _you_ believe in anybody's not liking
Dr. Braun? _I_ don't quite. It's more difficult for me to 'receive' than
the notion of the spiritual hand--'tenderly touching.'

Do you know young Leighton[43] of Rome? If so, you will be glad of this
wonderful success of his picture,[44] bought by the Queen, and applauded
by the Academicians, and he not twenty-five.

The lady who brought your book did not leave her name here, so of
course she did not _mean_ to be called on.

Our kindest regards for dear Dr. Braun, and repeated truest thanks to
both of you. Among his discoveries and inventions, he will invent some
day an Aladdin's lamp, and then you will be suddenly potentates, and
vanish in a clap of thunder.

Till then, think of me sometimes, dearest Madame Braun, as I do of
_you_, and of all your great kindness to me at Rome.

Ever your affectionate
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.