Life and Letters of Robert Browning [60]
free residence afterwards,
the cheapness of furniture being quite fabulous at the present crisis. . . .
In fact we have really done it magnificently, and planted ourselves
in the Guidi Palace in the favourite suite of the last Count
(his arms are in scagliola on the floor of my bedroom).
Though we have six beautiful rooms and a kitchen, three of them
quite palace rooms and opening on a terrace, and though such furniture
as comes by slow degrees into them is antique and worthy of the place,
we yet shall have saved money by the end of this year. . . .
Now I tell you all this lest you should hear dreadful rumours
of our having forsaken our native land, venerable institutions and all,
whereas we remember it so well (it's a dear land in many senses),
that we have done this thing chiefly in order to make sure
of getting back comfortably, . . . a stone's throw, too,
it is from the Pitti, and really in my present mind
I would hardly exchange with the Grand Duke himself.
By the bye, as to street, we have no spectators in windows
in just the grey wall of a church called San Felice for good omen.
`Now, have you heard enough of us? What I claimed first, in way of privilege,
was a spring-sofa to loll upon, and a supply of rain water to wash in,
and you shall see what a picturesque oil-jar they have given us
for the latter purpose; it would just hold the Captain of the Forty Thieves.
As for the chairs and tables, I yield the more especial interest in them
to Robert; only you would laugh to hear us correct one another sometimes.
"Dear, you get too many drawers, and not enough washing-stands.
Pray don't let us have any more drawers when we've nothing more
to put in them." There was no division on the necessity of having six spoons
-- some questions passed themselves. . . .'
==
==
July.
`. . . I am quite well again and strong. Robert and I go out often after tea
in a wandering walk to sit in the Loggia and look at the Perseus,
or, better still, at the divine sunsets on the Arno, turning it to pure gold
under the bridges. After more than twenty months of marriage,
we are happier than ever. . . .'
==
==
Aug.
`. . . As for ourselves we have hardly done so well -- yet well --
having enjoyed a great deal in spite of drawbacks. Murray, the traitor,
sent us to Fano as "a delightful summer residence for an English family,"
and we found it uninhabitable from the heat, vegetation scorched
into paleness, the very air swooning in the sun, and the gloomy looks
of the inhabitants sufficiently corroborative of their words
that no drop of rain or dew ever falls there during the summer.
A "circulating library" which "does not give out books,"
and "a refined and intellectual Italian society" (I quote Murray
for that phrase) which "never reads a book through" (I quote Mrs. Wiseman,
Dr. Wiseman's mother, who has lived in Fano seven years)
complete the advantages of the place. Yet the churches are very beautiful,
and a divine picture of Guercino's is worth going all that way to see. . . .
We fled from Fano after three days, and finding ourselves
cheated out of our dream of summer coolness, resolved on substituting for it
what the Italians call "un bel giro". So we went to Ancona --
a striking sea city, holding up against the brown rocks,
and elbowing out the purple tides -- beautiful to look upon.
An exfoliation of the rock itself you would call the houses
that seem to grow there -- so identical is the colour and character.
I should like to visit Ancona again when there is a little air and shadow.
We stayed a week, as it was, living upon fish and cold water. . . .'
==
The one dated Florence, December 16, is interesting with reference to
Mr. Browning's attitude when he wrote the letters to Mr. Frank Hill
which I have recently quoted.
==
`We have been, at least I have been, a little anxious lately
about the fate of the `Blot in the 'Scutcheon' which Mr. Phelps
applied for my husband's permission to revive
the cheapness of furniture being quite fabulous at the present crisis. . . .
In fact we have really done it magnificently, and planted ourselves
in the Guidi Palace in the favourite suite of the last Count
(his arms are in scagliola on the floor of my bedroom).
Though we have six beautiful rooms and a kitchen, three of them
quite palace rooms and opening on a terrace, and though such furniture
as comes by slow degrees into them is antique and worthy of the place,
we yet shall have saved money by the end of this year. . . .
Now I tell you all this lest you should hear dreadful rumours
of our having forsaken our native land, venerable institutions and all,
whereas we remember it so well (it's a dear land in many senses),
that we have done this thing chiefly in order to make sure
of getting back comfortably, . . . a stone's throw, too,
it is from the Pitti, and really in my present mind
I would hardly exchange with the Grand Duke himself.
By the bye, as to street, we have no spectators in windows
in just the grey wall of a church called San Felice for good omen.
`Now, have you heard enough of us? What I claimed first, in way of privilege,
was a spring-sofa to loll upon, and a supply of rain water to wash in,
and you shall see what a picturesque oil-jar they have given us
for the latter purpose; it would just hold the Captain of the Forty Thieves.
As for the chairs and tables, I yield the more especial interest in them
to Robert; only you would laugh to hear us correct one another sometimes.
"Dear, you get too many drawers, and not enough washing-stands.
Pray don't let us have any more drawers when we've nothing more
to put in them." There was no division on the necessity of having six spoons
-- some questions passed themselves. . . .'
==
==
July.
`. . . I am quite well again and strong. Robert and I go out often after tea
in a wandering walk to sit in the Loggia and look at the Perseus,
or, better still, at the divine sunsets on the Arno, turning it to pure gold
under the bridges. After more than twenty months of marriage,
we are happier than ever. . . .'
==
==
Aug.
`. . . As for ourselves we have hardly done so well -- yet well --
having enjoyed a great deal in spite of drawbacks. Murray, the traitor,
sent us to Fano as "a delightful summer residence for an English family,"
and we found it uninhabitable from the heat, vegetation scorched
into paleness, the very air swooning in the sun, and the gloomy looks
of the inhabitants sufficiently corroborative of their words
that no drop of rain or dew ever falls there during the summer.
A "circulating library" which "does not give out books,"
and "a refined and intellectual Italian society" (I quote Murray
for that phrase) which "never reads a book through" (I quote Mrs. Wiseman,
Dr. Wiseman's mother, who has lived in Fano seven years)
complete the advantages of the place. Yet the churches are very beautiful,
and a divine picture of Guercino's is worth going all that way to see. . . .
We fled from Fano after three days, and finding ourselves
cheated out of our dream of summer coolness, resolved on substituting for it
what the Italians call "un bel giro". So we went to Ancona --
a striking sea city, holding up against the brown rocks,
and elbowing out the purple tides -- beautiful to look upon.
An exfoliation of the rock itself you would call the houses
that seem to grow there -- so identical is the colour and character.
I should like to visit Ancona again when there is a little air and shadow.
We stayed a week, as it was, living upon fish and cold water. . . .'
==
The one dated Florence, December 16, is interesting with reference to
Mr. Browning's attitude when he wrote the letters to Mr. Frank Hill
which I have recently quoted.
==
`We have been, at least I have been, a little anxious lately
about the fate of the `Blot in the 'Scutcheon' which Mr. Phelps
applied for my husband's permission to revive