5443. RB to Emelyn Story
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 31, 113–116.
Cambo, près Bayonne, Basses Pyrénées.
[22 August 1864] [1]
Dear Mrs Story,
This writing has indeed been good of you– I was just meaning to tell you about our doings, which are not come to an end yet. We had a fancy to try a new place, Arcachon by Bordeaux, and reached it in two days’ easy journeying—only to find, what was a few years ago a beautiful pine-forest, turned into a toy-town with boulevards traced through the sand-hills, tirs-au-pistolet, [2] a Casino and other French institutions, and the whole full to the edge of strangers—there was nothing to be had, though I spent a couple of days in trying my luck: we looked at an adjoining old town of a different sort, La Teste,—nothing to let there;—so we determined to go on to Bayonne, and did so, hoping for rest to the foot sole [3] at St Jean-de Luz: this is really an exquisite little place, with a delicious sea, and great mountains in the back-ground—every house taken, every one of not a few: I regretted it the more, that Pen had one good swim and enjoyed every thing, sands and water: last we braved the awful Biarritz—but liked the noise and crowd of it still less than Arcachon,—the prices, moreover, were calculated for Diplomatists, ambitious senators, and so on: there seemed no course open to us—pushed up at the very end of France as we were—but to “lie by” in some quiet place till the bathers should begin to leave St Jean,—they never stay long, in France, but come & go in a crowd: and here we are at Cambo, a village in the Pyrénées fifteen or sixteen miles from Bayonne, in repute for its mineral waters, but out of the season now, we thankfully find: the country is exceedingly beautiful, the mountains just like the Tuscan ranges, with plenty of oak & chesnut woods, and everywhere the greenest of meadows—the great characteristic of the place—the little fresh river that winds in and out the hills & vales, the Nive, comes from Spain, which is three hours’ walk off: this is the Basque country, moreover, the people talk French with difficulty, and charming girl-faces abound; there is no lack of necessaries or even something over, and we have some fifty visitors—but after a few yards striding one is alone to all intents and purposes: I went two days ago to see a famous mountain-pass, le pas de Roland, so called because that Paladin kicked a hole in a rock, which blocks the way, to allow Charlemagne’s army to pass: very striking and picturesque it was, while the meadows by the river-side were delightful. But it is strangely hot, in spite of the greenness, though this morning there is Scirocco and approaching rain: the wind being so many puffs from a blast-furnace. Well, our plan is to stay here three weeks longer—till the 13th and then spend the rest of our holiday at St Jean—say three weeks,—bathing assiduously to make up for lost time: there will be room and to spare, and we may recover our position—for the last two years in that dear rough old St Marie,—stark-naked as she was of all comfort, to the British mind,—put this smug little village in unpleasant relief; I don’t see the sea all day long. On the other hand, my sister, who never was so far South, is delighted with everything—for we have cicale, and other unusualities. Moreover, there is a certain temptation which we may be unable to withstand,—and if so, farewell to St Jean! We are within an easy day’s journey of Madrid, and Pen’s ears prick up like unto one of these Spanish mule’s at his mates on a hill-top: after all, one would sacrifice something for a sight of the Titians and Velasquez: still, I hold for the original scheme, till forced to strike my flag. Be where we may, we return to Paris in the first week of October, and if you are really to be found there,—how good it will be, you know well enough. I shall content myself with saying that nobody used to the quantities of you, which I can boast to have been, could bear the miserable London allowance with such superhuman equanimity as I think you appreciate in myself, spite of a mock reproach or two. Now in earnest,—I am grieved to hear that Story has been ill,—I supposed that the quiet days and perfect friendliness at Walton would set all wrong right. You see, you need to keep trimming the family boat, which don’t make way unless every member of the crew is in his exact place, well and merry. Why should Story work and worry and spoil everything? This is a great shame, of which you tell me—surely whoever knows, and has an opportunity of telling the story properly will be glad to do so. What can Newton mean by holding his tongue? [4] And why not do at once, what will have to be done at some time?
See what a letter I have scribbled before breakfast time, to save the post which starts early! I know nothing whatever of London news, never letting my letters find me out here—they lie in a heap till my return: of course, I take care that any news from Landor shall come straight, as it has just done. I get one or two weekly newspapers, that’s all. If you do incline to write again, before the 13th Sept., it will wipe out many sins, I moderately say. Of course I talk no nonsense about your coming here, thirty miles perhaps from the sea! If you have a passion for adventure, and want to peep into Spain,—why,—of course, there’s our St Jean-de Luz, and of course other delights; but I’m past illusions. Let us catch a week of you at Paris,—that may be done.
Pen—here in the room—“sends his very kindest love to all and to Edith”: I subscribe my name. Give my truest regard & affectionate remembrance to Mr & Mrs Sturgis. All kindest congratulations to Ly W. on her amended health: I don’t forget her injunction, and shall write soon. My own party is quite well, my father perceptibly younger than last year—he walks, draws and reads all day.
Ever yours affectionately
Robert Browning.
Publication: BAF, pp. 145–148.
Manuscript: University of Texas.
1. Date provided by RB’s mention of going “two days ago to see … le pas de Roland.” In the 20 August part of letter 5442, he writes that he visited the site “this morning.”
2. “Shooting galleries for pistols.”
3. Cf. Genesis 8:9.
4. Story had acted as agent for Charles Thomas Newton (1816–94), keeper of Greek and Roman Antiquities at the British Museum, in the acquisition of ancient sculptures from the Farnese Collection, which were in the possession of the former King of Naples Francis II and housed at Rome in the Farnese Palace. In a report of the transaction, The Morning Post of 12 August 1864 mentioned Newton but not Story: “I am now happy … to announce that the greater part of this collection is on its way to England, having been purchased, through Mr. Newton’s agency, for the British Museum” (p. 5). Story later received credit for his contribution. An editorial in The Times of 20 October 1864 (p. 7), commenting on the “valuable accession to the national collection,” noted: “We are bound to mention that this acquisition is mainly due to the friendly intervention of Mr. William Storey [sic] … To Mr. Storey the first overtures respecting this purchase were made, and it was by his untiring zeal and patience that the long and tedious negotiation which ensued was brought to a satisfactory termination.”
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