Life and Letters of Robert Browning [64]
the gondolas -- I mix it all up together
and maintain that nothing is like it, nothing equal to it,
not a second Venice in the world.
`Do you know when I came first I felt as if I never could go away.
But now comes the earth-side.
`Robert, after sharing the ecstasy, grows uncomfortable and nervous,
unable to eat or sleep, and poor Wilson still worse, in a miserable condition
of sickness and headache. Alas for these mortal Venices,
so exquisite and so bilious. Therefore I am constrained away from my joys
by sympathy, and am forced to be glad that we are going away on Friday.
For myself, it did not affect me at all. Take the mild, soft,
relaxing climate -- even the scirocco does not touch me.
And the baby grows gloriously fatter in spite of everything. . . .
As for Venice, you can't get even a "Times", much less an "Athenaeum".
We comfort ourselves by taking a box at the opera (a whole box
on the grand tier, mind) for two shillings and eightpence, English. Also,
every evening at half-past eight, Robert and I are sitting under the moon
in the great piazza of St. Mark, taking excellent coffee
and reading the French papers.'
==
If it were possible to draw more largely on Mrs. Browning's correspondence
for this year, it would certainly supply the record of her intimacy,
and that of her husband, with Margaret Fuller Ossoli. A warm attachment
sprang up between them during that lady's residence in Florence.
Its last evenings were all spent at their house; and, soon after
she had bidden them farewell, she availed herself of a two days' delay
in the departure of the ship to return from Leghorn and be with them
one evening more. She had what seemed a prophetic dread
of the voyage to America, though she attached no superstitious importance
to the prediction once made to her husband that he would be drowned;
and learned when it was too late to change her plans that her presence there
was, after all, unnecessary. Mr. Browning was deeply affected
by the news of her death by shipwreck, which took place on July 16, 1850;
and wrote an account of his acquaintance with her, for publication
by her friends. This also, unfortunately, was lost.
Her son was of the same age as his, little more than a year old;
but she left a token of the friendship which might some day have united them,
in a small Bible inscribed to the baby Robert, `In memory of Angelo Ossoli.'
The intended journey to England was delayed for Mr. Browning
by the painful associations connected with his mother's death;
but in the summer of 1851 he found courage to go there:
and then, as on each succeeding visit paid to London with his wife,
he commemorated his marriage in a manner all his own. He went to the church
in which it had been solemnized, and kissed the paving-stones
in front of the door. It needed all this love to comfort Mrs. Browning
in the estrangement from her father which was henceforth to be accepted
as final. He had held no communication with her since her marriage,
and she knew that it was not forgiven; but she had cherished a hope
that he would so far relent towards her as to kiss her child,
even if he would not see her. Her prayer to this effect remained,
however, unanswered.
In the autumn they proceeded to Paris; whence Mrs. Browning wrote,
October 22 and November 12.
==
138, Avenue des Champs Elysees.
`. . . It was a long time before we could settle ourselves
in a private apartment. . . . At last we came off to these Champs Elysees,
to a very pleasant apartment, the window looking over a large terrace
(almost large enough to serve the purpose of a garden) to the great drive
and promenade of the Parisians when they come out of the streets
to sun and shade and show themselves off among the trees.
A pretty little dining-room, a writing and dressing-room for Robert beside it,
a drawing-room beyond that, with two excellent bedrooms,
and third bedroom for a "femme de menage", kitchen, &c. . . .
So this answers all requirements, and the sun suns us
and maintain that nothing is like it, nothing equal to it,
not a second Venice in the world.
`Do you know when I came first I felt as if I never could go away.
But now comes the earth-side.
`Robert, after sharing the ecstasy, grows uncomfortable and nervous,
unable to eat or sleep, and poor Wilson still worse, in a miserable condition
of sickness and headache. Alas for these mortal Venices,
so exquisite and so bilious. Therefore I am constrained away from my joys
by sympathy, and am forced to be glad that we are going away on Friday.
For myself, it did not affect me at all. Take the mild, soft,
relaxing climate -- even the scirocco does not touch me.
And the baby grows gloriously fatter in spite of everything. . . .
As for Venice, you can't get even a "Times", much less an "Athenaeum".
We comfort ourselves by taking a box at the opera (a whole box
on the grand tier, mind) for two shillings and eightpence, English. Also,
every evening at half-past eight, Robert and I are sitting under the moon
in the great piazza of St. Mark, taking excellent coffee
and reading the French papers.'
==
If it were possible to draw more largely on Mrs. Browning's correspondence
for this year, it would certainly supply the record of her intimacy,
and that of her husband, with Margaret Fuller Ossoli. A warm attachment
sprang up between them during that lady's residence in Florence.
Its last evenings were all spent at their house; and, soon after
she had bidden them farewell, she availed herself of a two days' delay
in the departure of the ship to return from Leghorn and be with them
one evening more. She had what seemed a prophetic dread
of the voyage to America, though she attached no superstitious importance
to the prediction once made to her husband that he would be drowned;
and learned when it was too late to change her plans that her presence there
was, after all, unnecessary. Mr. Browning was deeply affected
by the news of her death by shipwreck, which took place on July 16, 1850;
and wrote an account of his acquaintance with her, for publication
by her friends. This also, unfortunately, was lost.
Her son was of the same age as his, little more than a year old;
but she left a token of the friendship which might some day have united them,
in a small Bible inscribed to the baby Robert, `In memory of Angelo Ossoli.'
The intended journey to England was delayed for Mr. Browning
by the painful associations connected with his mother's death;
but in the summer of 1851 he found courage to go there:
and then, as on each succeeding visit paid to London with his wife,
he commemorated his marriage in a manner all his own. He went to the church
in which it had been solemnized, and kissed the paving-stones
in front of the door. It needed all this love to comfort Mrs. Browning
in the estrangement from her father which was henceforth to be accepted
as final. He had held no communication with her since her marriage,
and she knew that it was not forgiven; but she had cherished a hope
that he would so far relent towards her as to kiss her child,
even if he would not see her. Her prayer to this effect remained,
however, unanswered.
In the autumn they proceeded to Paris; whence Mrs. Browning wrote,
October 22 and November 12.
==
138, Avenue des Champs Elysees.
`. . . It was a long time before we could settle ourselves
in a private apartment. . . . At last we came off to these Champs Elysees,
to a very pleasant apartment, the window looking over a large terrace
(almost large enough to serve the purpose of a garden) to the great drive
and promenade of the Parisians when they come out of the streets
to sun and shade and show themselves off among the trees.
A pretty little dining-room, a writing and dressing-room for Robert beside it,
a drawing-room beyond that, with two excellent bedrooms,
and third bedroom for a "femme de menage", kitchen, &c. . . .
So this answers all requirements, and the sun suns us