3295. EBB to Sarah Blake Shaw
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 20, 12–13.
Rome. Via Bocca di Leone 43.
3mo [1] piano.
[early December 1853] [2]
My dear Mrs Shaw
I write to you from your Rome which is not your Rome, nor my Rome, & least of all, the Rome of our dear poor friends– Our first step here is into an abyss of sorrow. What agonies are permitted by the ever loving God in this world where the purposes of His love are worked out! It is hard sometimes for us to hold on & be sure of Him, while the winds blow us to & fro, from the best of ourselves!–
Edith is better– She will recover, dearest Mrs Shaw—that last apprehended stroke will be spared– The fever will take its course, & will fluctuate, Pantaleone says, but I am sanguine of the result—he seems to have no fears– The gastric fever is not in itself dangerous, but it is apt to be complicated with nervous & brain fever .. as happened in dear Joe’s case, & was apprehended in Edith’s—but the tendency in her is easily combatted & the vital forces are strong. The English nurse [3] too who has been in great danger, is better again—there seems a little light in the darkness–
But oh, what a dreary sort of light! You who are a mother, & know besides how poor Emelyn doated on that boy, will understand the sort of dungeon-light it is!– This is the uttermost stroke of grief which could have fallen upon her .. poor Emelyn!—and yet her gentle, soft expansive nature, grieving “after its kind,” [4] has been able to talk out & weep out all the acrid anguish from her poor heart, so that none of the poison will stay behind to concentrate itself & fester. She is not like me who under affliction am like a wild beast in a cave tearing at my own entrails. She spoke out all the grief– The tears ran like fountains—and now she is calm, composed .. she surprises me by her sweetness & composure. God is good to us, dear Mrs Shaw. He carries the lambs in His arms. [5]
I was more afraid for Mr Story. There was more struggle & strife with him—& he looked horribly harrassed & nervously excited. But he too is better– You may think more comfortably of both of them. They seem to say that they shall not hate Rome after this—love it more perhaps.
What is worst is—Edith talks of Joe. She asked ‘if he was better’, and the mother had to say, ‘yes,—he is better’. Better indeed!—how much better! Lifted up above these unspeakable bitternesses—never to have to say to another under such circumstances, “he is better”.
The weather has been congenially miserable since we arrived, until today when there is a little sun– Of course I have not stirred out .. except to Joe’s deathbed– Robert went to his grave. I cannot fancy that I shall escape having the taste of these aloes always on my lips in this Rome. The impression has been profoundly saddening. I do not make out that it can be Rome at all–
Thank you for your goodness about the letter .. which is lost, just as I thought it was. Give me some day something else to do for you as a proof that you have forgiven me the sin of it–
You have heard from Mrs Page everything I have omitted to tell you. We shall like our rooms, I think .. & none the less that Mr Page lives below us. I do wish you were here for every reason– May God bless you & yours– Believe in the affectionate regard of
Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Harvard University.
1. Sic, for 3zo, an abbreviation of terzo (“third”).
2. Dated approximately by EBB’s reference to the death of Joe Story, which occurred on 23 November 1853.
4. Cf., for example, Genesis 1:11, 12, 21, 24, and 25.
5. Cf. Isaiah 40:11.
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