Life and Letters of Robert Browning [62]
suffering beyond what one could shut one's eyes to,
in consequence of the great mental shock of last March --
loss of appetite, loss of sleep -- looks quite worn and altered.
His spirits never rallied except with an effort, and every letter
from New Cross threw him back into deep depression. I was very anxious,
and feared much that the end of it all would be (the intense heat
of Florence assisting) nervous fever or something similar;
and I had the greatest difficulty in persuading him to leave Florence
for a month or two. He who generally delights in travelling,
had no mind for change or movement. I had to say and swear
that Baby and I couldn't bear the heat, and that we must and would go away.
"Ce que femme veut, HOMME veut," if the latter is at all amiable,
or the former persevering. At last I gained the victory. It was agreed
that we two should go on an exploring journey, to find out where we could have
most shadow at least expense; and we left our child with his nurse and Wilson,
while we were absent. We went along the coast to Spezzia,
saw Carrara with the white marble mountains, passed through
the olive-forests and the vineyards, avenues of acacia trees,
chestnut woods, glorious surprises of the most exquisite scenery.
I say olive-forests advisedly -- the olive grows like a forest-tree
in those regions, shading the ground with tints of silvery network.
The olive near Florence is but a shrub in comparison,
and I have learnt to despise a little too the Florentine vine,
which does not swing such portcullises of massive dewy green
from one tree to another as along the whole road where we travelled.
Beautiful indeed it was. Spezzia wheels the blue sea
into the arms of the wooded mountains; and we had a glance
at Shelley's house at Lerici. It was melancholy to me, of course.
I was not sorry that the lodgings we inquired about were far above our means.
We returned on our steps (after two days in the dirtiest of possible inns),
saw Seravezza, a village in the mountains, where rock river and wood
enticed us to stay, and the inhabitants drove us off
by their unreasonable prices. It is curious -- but just in proportion
to the want of civilization the prices rise in Italy.
If you haven't cups and saucers, you are made to pay for plate.
Well -- so finding no rest for the soles of our feet,
I persuaded Robert to go to the Baths of Lucca, only to see them.
We were to proceed afterwards to San Marcello, or some safer wilderness.
We had both of us, but he chiefly, the strongest prejudice
against the Baths of Lucca; taking them for a sort of wasp's nest
of scandal and gaming, and expecting to find everything trodden flat
by the continental English -- yet, I wanted to see the place,
because it is a place to see, after all. So we came, and were so charmed
by the exquisite beauty of the scenery, by the coolness of the climate,
and the absence of our countrymen -- political troubles serving admirably
our private requirements, that we made an offer for rooms on the spot,
and returned to Florence for Baby and the rest of our establishment
without further delay. Here we are then. We have been here
more than a fortnight. We have taken an apartment for the season --
four months, paying twelve pounds for the whole term, and hoping to be able
to stay till the end of October. The living is cheaper than even in Florence,
so that there has been no extravagance in coming here.
In fact Florence is scarcely tenable during the summer from the excessive heat
by day and night, even if there were no particular motive for leaving it.
We have taken a sort of eagle's nest in this place -- the highest house
of the highest of the three villages which are called the Bagni di Lucca,
and which lie at the heart of a hundred mountains sung to continually
by a rushing mountain stream. The sound of the river and of the cicale
is all the noise we hear. Austrian drums and carriage-wheels cannot vex us,
God be thanked for it! The silence is full of joy and consolation.
I think my husband's spirits
in consequence of the great mental shock of last March --
loss of appetite, loss of sleep -- looks quite worn and altered.
His spirits never rallied except with an effort, and every letter
from New Cross threw him back into deep depression. I was very anxious,
and feared much that the end of it all would be (the intense heat
of Florence assisting) nervous fever or something similar;
and I had the greatest difficulty in persuading him to leave Florence
for a month or two. He who generally delights in travelling,
had no mind for change or movement. I had to say and swear
that Baby and I couldn't bear the heat, and that we must and would go away.
"Ce que femme veut, HOMME veut," if the latter is at all amiable,
or the former persevering. At last I gained the victory. It was agreed
that we two should go on an exploring journey, to find out where we could have
most shadow at least expense; and we left our child with his nurse and Wilson,
while we were absent. We went along the coast to Spezzia,
saw Carrara with the white marble mountains, passed through
the olive-forests and the vineyards, avenues of acacia trees,
chestnut woods, glorious surprises of the most exquisite scenery.
I say olive-forests advisedly -- the olive grows like a forest-tree
in those regions, shading the ground with tints of silvery network.
The olive near Florence is but a shrub in comparison,
and I have learnt to despise a little too the Florentine vine,
which does not swing such portcullises of massive dewy green
from one tree to another as along the whole road where we travelled.
Beautiful indeed it was. Spezzia wheels the blue sea
into the arms of the wooded mountains; and we had a glance
at Shelley's house at Lerici. It was melancholy to me, of course.
I was not sorry that the lodgings we inquired about were far above our means.
We returned on our steps (after two days in the dirtiest of possible inns),
saw Seravezza, a village in the mountains, where rock river and wood
enticed us to stay, and the inhabitants drove us off
by their unreasonable prices. It is curious -- but just in proportion
to the want of civilization the prices rise in Italy.
If you haven't cups and saucers, you are made to pay for plate.
Well -- so finding no rest for the soles of our feet,
I persuaded Robert to go to the Baths of Lucca, only to see them.
We were to proceed afterwards to San Marcello, or some safer wilderness.
We had both of us, but he chiefly, the strongest prejudice
against the Baths of Lucca; taking them for a sort of wasp's nest
of scandal and gaming, and expecting to find everything trodden flat
by the continental English -- yet, I wanted to see the place,
because it is a place to see, after all. So we came, and were so charmed
by the exquisite beauty of the scenery, by the coolness of the climate,
and the absence of our countrymen -- political troubles serving admirably
our private requirements, that we made an offer for rooms on the spot,
and returned to Florence for Baby and the rest of our establishment
without further delay. Here we are then. We have been here
more than a fortnight. We have taken an apartment for the season --
four months, paying twelve pounds for the whole term, and hoping to be able
to stay till the end of October. The living is cheaper than even in Florence,
so that there has been no extravagance in coming here.
In fact Florence is scarcely tenable during the summer from the excessive heat
by day and night, even if there were no particular motive for leaving it.
We have taken a sort of eagle's nest in this place -- the highest house
of the highest of the three villages which are called the Bagni di Lucca,
and which lie at the heart of a hundred mountains sung to continually
by a rushing mountain stream. The sound of the river and of the cicale
is all the noise we hear. Austrian drums and carriage-wheels cannot vex us,
God be thanked for it! The silence is full of joy and consolation.
I think my husband's spirits