2924. EBB to Eliza Anne Ogilvy
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 17, 55–60.
Paris.
July 2. [1851] [1]
My dear friend, if indignation at my silence has not turned away your kind thoughts from me altogether, you, yet, will not have been thinking certainly that I should write (at last) to you from Paris. Listen to the explanation of the silence, & understand how it was not an ungrateful, or unfeeling one– Both your letters were most welcome, of course, .. (& we made use of your information & carried the ms∙s. in a pocket of Murray, [2] side by side with the map) but I did not answer the first, intending to be in time with a letter to meet you in London, .. and when the second came, we were in such a confusion of a plan, that I could not tell you where to write back to me, & waited & waited till I could. Dear bewitching Venice, which charmed me to the last, agreed very ill with Robert & worse with Wilson. He lay awake night after night, suffering nervous pains in the face & head,—and she could eat nothing without agonies of indigestion, & grew so thin & looked so ill & haggard till it would have been homicide to have kept her there. She says now that if she had stayed a month longer she should have died– Venice is as bilious as it is beautiful. Also our rooms proved, as I feared they would, very oppressive when the heat set in—not tenable by any manner of means. Yet I was savage enough to grow fatter & fatter while we remained—& others were perishing—the place agreed with me in body & soul– More’s the pity—for I had to lean down an immense height in order to sympathize with Robert, & be glad when we went away. And, do you know, the first day at Padua restored everybody– Robert began to sleep again, & Wilson to eat, .. while Wiedeman & I continued to sleep & eat .. and so there was nothing more to be complained of .... except leaving Venice.
After you went away, we found out that Murray was right about the gondolas & that the universal charge (apart from imposition) is, a swanziger the first hour, & half a swanziger for every hour after– [3] So we “swam in gondolas” [4] to our heart’s content—yes, and we went to the Lido, and we went to Chioggia, (and we were kept out till two in the morning & frightened Wilson) and we went a second time to the opera; & twice to the play, and twice, besides, to the Malibran day-theatre [5] —and, once, I teazed Robert into taking Wiedeman, (as we paid eightpence for our whole box, & the performance was over at eight oclock) and we repented it afterwards, both of us. The play turned out to be an heroic melodrama, in verse, in five acts, tremendously tedious to us all—and I assure you it was only in the fifth that Wiedeman gave signs of being a little tired, by putting up his small heels on the edge of the box & singing his favorite song about ‘Papa & Mama’ a thought too loud. What pleased him most was the music, the drawing up & down of the curtain, & the clapping of hands– He shouted out “Heigh” to the audience, & clapped his own hands to show how they were to do it again. But he did’nt much like the putting into chains of Odolinda’s father, [6] .. (was on the point of a roaring cry after some excruciating sensibility on the part of the prisoner—) and Robert said rightly that it was quite wrong to expose a young child to the shows of grief, before he could possibly discern the meaning of the imitation of art– So, I wont take him to see Madlle Rachel—you need not apprehend it.
Well—we left Venice, .. Wilson & the gods crying out .. on a friday; the natural consequence of which was a series of misfortunes. In the first place, we were too late for the train by five minutes & had to wait some three hours in the cafè before we could get on—secondly, we ar[r]ived at Padua just as St Anthony’s feast [7] had raised all the prices, & paid, for two poor bedrooms, fourteen swanzigers, after being asked sixteen!– Had it been only for Giotto (noble as Giotto is at Padua) we should have proceeded to Vicenza, so scared were we by these prices, but we had both set our hearts on doing pilgrimage to Arqua & seeing Petrarch’s house; & I tenaciously clung to this purpose. So, leaving Wilson & Wiedeman at the inn, we set off in a caleche, .. and misfortune the third was, that our driver turned out a ‘birbone’ [8] & set us down a mile from Arqua in the burning sun, protesting the inability of his horses to drag us up the hill. As ignorant victims we groaned & resigned ourselves .. when lo, & behold, the road proved excellent, the mountain not more than a gentle slope, & the villagers lifted up their hands & eyes in astonishment at the iniquity of the Paduan. To reach the carriage again, I had to be set on a donkey, and, even so, I arrived as exhausted as a pilgrim might. But oh, how worth everything was the sight of Arqua!—and Petrarch’s tomb & his house .. & the little, little room, out of which the great soul issued into its spiritual sphere. We were both moved to tears .. even Robert was .. by the homely look of that little room. There are depths which a small pebble dropping down, gives notice of. It was very affecting—but then, you know, we have great organs of reverence & a taste for old slippers & such gear. Yet we never saw Titian’s house at Venice– Titian is not Petrarch!– And then you beat us to pieces in the ordinary energies of sight seeing, &, do you know, after you left us disconsolate at Venice, we fell into a sort of enchanted somnolence & went to see scarcely anything more.
To continue this confession, Juliet’s tomb was not once enquired after .. it was through infidelity, that want of curiosity. [9] But I am really afraid of your scorn, when I add that we passed through Brescia at night, & so tired that I was scarcely alive enough to enjoy the vision of the town glorified in the brightest moonlight possible, beautiful as the vision was– We took the diligence in sixteen hours from Verona to Milan, arriving there at nine I think, in the morning, & stopping at Brescia one hour at midnight .. Wiedeman in the highest spirits & the most soup-devouring mood. Think of that child! He has adapted himself to every circumstance, & satisfied even Robert’s exeginces with his perfection of goodness. Again, we were four & twenty hours in diligences from Strasbourg to Paris, the railroad intermissions being nought, (as the carriage was only placed on the rail) and he slept at night & laughed in the day while we were all groaning round. I was very afraid for him & rather for myself—but, without sacrificing the coupè, & indeed the security of places altogether, there was no way of escaping that last four & twenty hours of continuous fatigue. And now, though charmed with the Paris shops, he is apt to talk longingly of the ‘cavalli’ and the ‘vapore’ [10] —he does’nt like to be done with travelling. How I wander. My story has broken its own back– We stayed two days at Milan, & I climbed to the topmost pinnacle of the cathedral– That cathedral is almost worthy of standing face to face, as it does, with the snow Alps: it impressed me deeply– Milan, indeed, delighted us altogether– The pictures, exquisite—and the famous Leonardo [11] keeping its promises to the full. At Como, I was suffering rather from the cathedral, & was not fit the morning after our arrival, to go to Colico as we meant .. so we slept at Cadenabbia, opposite Bellaggio, & took a caleche from Menaggio to Porlezza, & a boat across that beautiful lake to Lugano– Slept at Lugano, & went by vettura next morning to Bellinzona– Slept there, &, leaving Wilson & Wiedeman to take care of themselves, spent the next day on the Lago maggiore. So we did a good deal, you see, in spite of some omissions,—and you will agree that we could’nt have done much more when I add that Robert had an overplus of exactly ten francs on his arrival at Lucerne. As to the passage of St Goathard I say nothing of it. Only I thank God for having seen such a sight. It thrills me to the soul even now, to look back & think. There was more snow than usual, we heard, & the cold was intense, but I wrapt a double shawl over my head & only let out my eyes, & so escaped any injury. Lucerne is surpassingly lovely, certainly surpassing the lovely Italian lakes, & the air seemed like wine, & Wiedeman’s cheeks flushed in two days as if they were drinking it deep– Oh, I should have liked to stay in Switzerland for him .. and also for me .. I enjoyed it so! but we found dreadful financial news at the post about the ship-money, and Robert fell into a despondence about the bread we should get to eat for the next six months, and there was nothing for it but to give up lakes & mountains & come straight to Paris. So here I am at the end of my story & journey. We went to Mr Stuart’s hotel, but really such rooms as were vacant, were so miserably black & small, that Robert (not I, mind! I only agreed) proposed trying our fortunes elsewhere at once. I dare say it is a very cheap hotel. We came off to our own old hotêl de la ville de Paris near the Madeleine, and by a strange mistake, were brought to another at the other end of the same boulevard, & did not find out the difference till we had taken our rooms for a week. I am sorry. Still, we are excellently off here, in a centrical situation & a quiet, comfortable, clean house au premier [12] .. a salon (very good indeed) a small dining room & antichamber, a bedroom for Wilson & the babe, with two dressingrooms attached, and a bedroom for ourselves, .. all for six francs the four & twenty hours. Nothing so cheap (observe) is to be had in Italy—not in an hotel, I mean—and the prices at hotels must be a fair guage [sic] of the expensiveness of a place. We dined (Robert & I did) at our old restaurant’s the first day, and were magnificently served upon gilt silver plate .. only we paid seven francs for our dinner which was de trop. [13] Yesterday we went a step lower in the scale, & paid five francs .. the dinner being immensely too large—but by degrees we shall understand. The worst is that it rained during our first two days here,—which, with other causes, depressed Robert, & he was “sure that he should hate Paris”, & all that sort of thing .. but here is the sun, on this third day, and I hope & trust we shall be in better spirits & take heart to look round us & count our advantages.
Now, if you can forgive & understand, do write, & let us hear of you both & how you like England & the Exhibition, & dont forget to tell me of the dear children. Also, if there is anything we can do for you, by letter or otherwise in France or England, speak. This one thing you can do for me .. Alter with a pen, the word “rail” in the last line of my new poem (which I hope you received duly, as the publishers were instructed to send you a copy at Mr Bosworth’s) [14] the word “rail” to the word “Vail” [15] .. the allusion being of course to the vail of the Jewish temple, but ‘railed’ out pitilessly. There’s no meaning left at all. It’s the only error of any consequence in the book; a few wrong stops & the substitution of ‘heart & train’ for ‘heart & brain’, [16] being evident enough to the reader. Sarianna Browning has done her part admirably & most kindly indeed. We have caught sight of the book since we came here by an accident, or should know nothing of these things. I hear that the Literary Gazette in giving extracts, peppered them with misprints, [17] .. in high good humour however,—which I never expected from the Literary Gazette, both Robert & I having fancied ourselves in disgrace there.
Everything we have known yet of Paris, I have told you. Today we shall get out & see a little clearer by sunlight. It is warm, but not too warm.
Oh—let me remember to tell you that we saw Mr Reade two days before we left Venice. He asked after you earnestly. I never saw anybody looking so ill, or more ill, than when he took coffee with us in the piazza of St Mark the last evening. Venice had evidently siezed him by the throat. He was on his way to the German water cure. Also, in the course of those last days, we met in the streets M. de Goethe, [18] & spent a good deal of time together in gondola & out of gondola. Few persons have interested me as much as he does.
And so, here’s the end of my gossip! I hope you felt how sorry we were to part from you, & how we appreciated your delightful companionship while it was enjoyed. It is better to feel these things than to hear them.
God bless you both! Are you well? is Mr Ogilvy well? did you find Mrs Ogilvy quite well & in a glow of happiness at seeing you? and your sister? & your little niece? [19] Give my love (yes, & Robert’s) to dear Mrs Ogilvy .. & do you both of you believe its sincerity towards yourselves.
Your affectionate
E B Browning
Barry Cornwall is printing or has just printed a letter in verse to Robert [20] —we have news <of it here.>
no red [21]
Address, on integral page: Mrs David Ogilvy / Care of Mr Bosworth—Publisher / Regent’s Street / London.
Publication: EBB-EAHO, pp. 37–44.
Manuscript: Eton College Library.
1. Year provided by postmark.
2. Probably Murray’s Hand-Book for Travellers in Northern Italy (1847).
3. Hand-Book for Travellers, p. 312.
4. Cf. As You Like It, IV, 1, 38.
5. Near the Rialto Bridge, it is named for the opera singer, Maria Felicia Malibran (née Garcia, 1808–36).
6. We have been unable to identify this opera.
7. Celebrated on 13 June.
8. “Scoundrel,” or “rogue.”
9. What is known as the tomb of Juliet Capulet (Giulietta Capuleti or Cappelletti in Italian) is located in Verona at the site of a derelict Capuchin convent. The tomb is described in Hand-Book for Travellers: “It is of a reddish marble, and, before it was promoted to its present honour, was used as a washing trough” (p. 283). EBB refers to it at the beginning of Casa Guidi Windows: “Behold, instead, / Void at Verona, Juliet’s marble trough” (I, 41–42).
10. “Horses” and the “steamboat.”
11. “The Last Supper,” a fresco by Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519) in the convent of Santa Maria delle Grazie.
12. “On the first floor.” As indentifed in the following letter, the Brownings were staying at the Hôtel aux Armes de la Ville de Paris.
13. “Too much.”
14. Thomas Bosworth (1825–99), publisher and bookseller located on Regent Street, had recently issued Mrs. Ogilvy’s Traditions of Tuscany, in Verse (1851).
15. The last three lines of Casa Guidi Windows (1851) read: “Such cheer I gather from thy smiling, Sweet! / The self same cherub faces which emboss / The rail, lean inward to the mercy-seat.” EBB corrected the line when the poem appeared in Poems (1856).
16. Casa Guidi Windows, I, 416.
17. There were a number of printing errors in the extracts included in the notice of Casa Guidi Windows that appeared in The Literary Gazette for 31 May 1851 (p. 372), but most had to do with punctuation. Of the more substantive misprints were “also” for “all so” (Casa Guidi Windows, 1851, II, 707) and “but signify growth” for “signify but growth” (II, 766). Although the reviewer had reservations about Part I, he felt that in Part II there was “almost nothing to be wished away.” For the full text of this review, see pp. 301–303.
18. Wolfgang Maximilian von Goethe; see letter 2891, note 7.
19. We are unable to determine to which niece EBB refers. At this time Mrs. Ogilvy had two nieces: Florence Eliot Campbell (1840–1931) and Amy Campbell (b. 1842). They were the daughters of her older sister Charlotte Susan Campbell (née Dick, 1819–48) and her husband Archibald Lorne Campbell (1804–83). After their mother’s death the two girls, and their brother, were raised by their maternal grandparents. Mrs. Ogilvy’s sister, mentioned here, was Emily Maria Douglas Dick (later Macleod, 1837–82).
21. Written next to a black wax seal.
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