Life and Letters of Robert Browning [65]
loyally as in duty bound
considering the southern aspect, and we are glad to find ourselves
settled for six months. We have had lovely weather, and have seen a fire
only yesterday for the first time since we left England. . . .
We have seen nothing in Paris, except the shell of it. Yet, two evenings ago
we hazarded going to a reception at Lady Elgin's, in the Faubourg St. Germain,
and saw some French, but nobody of distinction.
`It is a good house, I believe, and she has an earnest face
which must mean something. We were invited to go every Monday
between eight and twelve. We go on Friday to Madame Mohl's,
where we are to have some of the "celebrites". . . .
Carlyle, for instance, I liked infinitely more in his personality
than I expected to like him, and I saw a great deal of him,
for he travelled with us to Paris, and spent several evenings with us,
we three together. He is one of the most interesting men I could imagine,
even deeply interesting to me; and you come to understand perfectly
when you know him, that his bitterness is only melancholy,
and his scorn, sensibility. Highly picturesque, too, he is in conversation;
the talk of writing men is very seldom so good.
`And, do you know, I was much taken, in London, with a young authoress,
Geraldine Jewsbury. You have read her books. . . . She herself
is quiet and simple, and drew my heart out of me a good deal.
I felt inclined to love her in our half-hour's intercourse. . . .'
==
==
138, Avenue des Champs Elysees: (Nov. 12).
`. . . Robert's father and sister have been paying us a visit
during the last three weeks. They are very affectionate to me,
and I love them for his sake and their own, and am very sorry
at the thought of losing them, as we are on the point of doing.
We hope, however, to establish them in Paris, if we can stay,
and if no other obstacle should arise before the spring,
when they must leave Hatcham. Little Wiedemann `draws',
as you may suppose. . . . he is adored by his grandfather,
and then, Robert! They are an affectionate family, and not easy
when removed one from another. . . .'
==
On their journey from London to Paris, Mr. and Mrs. Browning had been
joined by Carlyle; and it afterwards struck Mr. Browning as strange that,
in the `Life' of Carlyle, their companionship on this occasion
should be spoken of as the result of a chance meeting. Carlyle not only
went to Paris with the Brownings, but had begged permission to do so;
and Mrs. Browning had hesitated to grant this because she was afraid
her little boy would be tiresome to him. Her fear, however, proved mistaken.
The child's prattle amused the philosopher, and led him on one occasion
to say: `Why, sir, you have as many aspirations as Napoleon!'
At Paris he would have been miserable without Mr. Browning's help,
in his ignorance of the language, and impatience of the discomforts
which this created for him. He couldn't ask for anything, he complained,
but they brought him the opposite.
On one occasion Mr. Carlyle made a singular remark. He was walking
with Mr. Browning, either in Paris or the neighbouring country,
when they passed an image of the Crucifixion; and glancing towards
the figure of Christ, he said, with his deliberate Scotch utterance,
`Ah, poor fellow, YOUR part is played out!'
Two especially interesting letters are dated from the same address,
February 15 and April 7, 1852.
==
`. . . Beranger lives close to us, and Robert has seen him
in his white hat, wandering along the asphalte. I had a notion,
somehow, that he was very old, but he is only elderly --
not much above sixty (which is the prime of life, nowadays)
and he lives quietly and keeps out of scrapes poetical and political,
and if Robert and I had a little less modesty we are assured
that we should find access to him easy. But we can't make up our minds
to go to his door and introduce ourselves as vagrant minstrels,
when he may probably not know our names. We could never follow
the fashion of
considering the southern aspect, and we are glad to find ourselves
settled for six months. We have had lovely weather, and have seen a fire
only yesterday for the first time since we left England. . . .
We have seen nothing in Paris, except the shell of it. Yet, two evenings ago
we hazarded going to a reception at Lady Elgin's, in the Faubourg St. Germain,
and saw some French, but nobody of distinction.
`It is a good house, I believe, and she has an earnest face
which must mean something. We were invited to go every Monday
between eight and twelve. We go on Friday to Madame Mohl's,
where we are to have some of the "celebrites". . . .
Carlyle, for instance, I liked infinitely more in his personality
than I expected to like him, and I saw a great deal of him,
for he travelled with us to Paris, and spent several evenings with us,
we three together. He is one of the most interesting men I could imagine,
even deeply interesting to me; and you come to understand perfectly
when you know him, that his bitterness is only melancholy,
and his scorn, sensibility. Highly picturesque, too, he is in conversation;
the talk of writing men is very seldom so good.
`And, do you know, I was much taken, in London, with a young authoress,
Geraldine Jewsbury. You have read her books. . . . She herself
is quiet and simple, and drew my heart out of me a good deal.
I felt inclined to love her in our half-hour's intercourse. . . .'
==
==
138, Avenue des Champs Elysees: (Nov. 12).
`. . . Robert's father and sister have been paying us a visit
during the last three weeks. They are very affectionate to me,
and I love them for his sake and their own, and am very sorry
at the thought of losing them, as we are on the point of doing.
We hope, however, to establish them in Paris, if we can stay,
and if no other obstacle should arise before the spring,
when they must leave Hatcham. Little Wiedemann `draws',
as you may suppose. . . . he is adored by his grandfather,
and then, Robert! They are an affectionate family, and not easy
when removed one from another. . . .'
==
On their journey from London to Paris, Mr. and Mrs. Browning had been
joined by Carlyle; and it afterwards struck Mr. Browning as strange that,
in the `Life' of Carlyle, their companionship on this occasion
should be spoken of as the result of a chance meeting. Carlyle not only
went to Paris with the Brownings, but had begged permission to do so;
and Mrs. Browning had hesitated to grant this because she was afraid
her little boy would be tiresome to him. Her fear, however, proved mistaken.
The child's prattle amused the philosopher, and led him on one occasion
to say: `Why, sir, you have as many aspirations as Napoleon!'
At Paris he would have been miserable without Mr. Browning's help,
in his ignorance of the language, and impatience of the discomforts
which this created for him. He couldn't ask for anything, he complained,
but they brought him the opposite.
On one occasion Mr. Carlyle made a singular remark. He was walking
with Mr. Browning, either in Paris or the neighbouring country,
when they passed an image of the Crucifixion; and glancing towards
the figure of Christ, he said, with his deliberate Scotch utterance,
`Ah, poor fellow, YOUR part is played out!'
Two especially interesting letters are dated from the same address,
February 15 and April 7, 1852.
==
`. . . Beranger lives close to us, and Robert has seen him
in his white hat, wandering along the asphalte. I had a notion,
somehow, that he was very old, but he is only elderly --
not much above sixty (which is the prime of life, nowadays)
and he lives quietly and keeps out of scrapes poetical and political,
and if Robert and I had a little less modesty we are assured
that we should find access to him easy. But we can't make up our minds
to go to his door and introduce ourselves as vagrant minstrels,
when he may probably not know our names. We could never follow
the fashion of