to come away as we went, and get the better as we could of our disappointment, and really it was a disappointment not to be able to stay our two months out in the wilderness as we had planned it, to say nothing of the heat of Florence, to which at the moment it was not pleasant to return.  But we got new lodgings in the shade and comforted ourselves as well as we could.  ’Comforted’—­there’s a word for Florence—­that ingratitude was a slip of the pen, believe me.  Only we had set our hearts upon a two months’ seclusion in the deep of the pine forests (which have such a strange dialect in the silence they speak with), and the mountains were divine, and it was provoking to be crossed in our ambitions by that little holy abbot with the red face, and to be driven out of Eden, even to Florence.  It is said, observe, that Milton took his description of Paradise from Vallombrosa—­so driven out of Eden we were, literally.  To Florence, though! and what Florence is, the tongue of man or poet may easily fail to describe.  The most beautiful of cities, with the golden Arno shot through the breast of her like an arrow, and ‘non dolet’ all the same.  For what helps to charm here is the innocent gaiety of the people, who, for ever at feast day and holiday celebrations, come and go along the streets, the women in elegant dresses and with glittering fans, shining away every thought of Northern cares and taxes, such as make people grave in England.  No little orphan on a house step but seems to inherit, naturally his slice of water-melon and bunch of purple grapes, and the rich fraternise with the poor as we are unaccustomed to see them, listening to the same music and walking in the same gardens, and looking at the same Raphaels even!  Also we were glad to be here just now, when there is new animation and energy given to Italy by this new wonderful Pope, who is a great man and doing greatly.  I hope you give him your sympathies.  Think how seldom the liberation of a people begins from the throne, a fortiori from a papal throne, which is so high and straight.[165] And the spark spreads! here is even our Grand Duke conceding the civic guard,[166] and forgetting his Austrian prejudices.  The world learns, it is pleasant to observe....

So well I am, dear Mr. Westwood, and so happy after a year’s trial of the stuff of marriage, happier than ever, perhaps, and the revolution is so complete that one has to learn to stand up straight and steadily (like a landsman in a sailing ship) before one can do any work with one’s hand and brain.

We have had a delightful letter from Carlyle, who loves my husband, I am proud to say.

[Footnote 165:’This country saving is a glorious thing:  And if a common man achieved it? well.  Say, a rich man did? excellent.  A king?  That grows sublime.  A priest?  Improbable.  A pope?  Ah, there we stop, and cannot bring Our faith up to the leap, with history’s bell

  So heavy round the neck of it—­albeit
  We fain would grant the possibility
  For thy sake, Pio Nono!’