The Complete Works of Robert Browning: Poems, Plays, Letters & Biographies in One Edition. Robert Browning
or not understood, how soon the promise concerning it must be fulfilled, and it was actually scribbled off while a messenger, sent by Signor Molmenti, waited for it.
* It was, I think, during this visit to Venice that he assisted at a no less interesting ceremony: the unveiling of a commemorative tablet to Baldassaro Galuppi, in his native island of Burano.
Goldoni, — good, gay, sunniest of souls, — Glassing half Venice in that verse of thine, — What though it just reflect the shade and shine Of common life, nor render, as it rolls Grandeur and gloom? Sufficient for thy shoals Was Carnival: Parini’s depths enshrine Secrets unsuited to that opaline Surface of things which laughs along thy scrolls. There throng the people: how they come and go Lisp the soft language, flaunt the bright garb, — see, — On Piazza, Calle, under Portico And over Bridge! Dear king of Comedy, Be honoured! Thou that didst love Venice so, Venice, and we who love her, all love thee!
Venice, Nov. 27, 1883.
A complete bibliography would take account of three other sonnets, ‘The Founder of the Feast’, 1884, ‘The Names’, 1884, and ‘Why I am a Liberal’, 1886, to which I shall have occasion to refer; but we decline insensibly from these on to the less important or more fugitive productions which such lists also include, and on which it is unnecessary or undesirable that any stress should be laid.
In 1885 he was joined in Venice by his son. It was ‘Penini’s’ first return to the country of his birth, his first experience of the city which he had only visited in his nurse’s arms; and his delight in it was so great that the plan shaped itself in his father’s mind of buying a house there, which should serve as ‘pied-a-terre’ for the family, but more especially as a home for him. Neither the health nor the energies of the younger Mr. Browning had ever withstood the influence of the London climate; a foreign element was undoubtedly present in his otherwise thoroughly English constitution. Everything now pointed to his settling in Italy, and pursuing his artist life there, only interrupting it by occasional visits to London and Paris. His father entered into negotiations for the Palazzo Manzoni, next door to the former Hotel de l’Univers; and the purchase was completed, so far as he was concerned, before he returned to England. The fact is related, and his own position towards it described in a letter to Mrs. Charles Skirrow, written from Venice.
Palazzo Giustiniani Recanati, S. Moise: Nov. 15, ‘85.
My two dear friends will have supposed, with plenty of reason, that I never got the kind letter some weeks ago. When it came, I was in the middle of an affair, conducted by letters of quite another kind, with people abroad: and as I fancied that every next day might bring me news very interesting to me and likely to be worth telling to the dear friends, I waited and waited — and only two days since did the matter come to a satisfactory conclusion — so, as the Irish song has it, ‘Open your eyes and die with surprise’ when I inform you that I have purchased the Manzoni Palace here, on the Canal Grande, of its owner, Marchese Montecucculi, an Austrian and an absentee — hence the delay of communication. I did this purely for Pen — who became at once simply infatuated with the city which won my whole heart long before he was born or thought of. I secure him a perfect domicile, every facility for his painting and sculpture, and a property fairly worth, even here and now, double what I gave for it — such is the virtue in these parts of ready money! I myself shall stick to London — which has been so eminently good and gracious to me — so long as God permits; only, when the inevitable outrage of Time gets the better of my body — (I shall not believe in his reaching my soul and proper self) — there will be a capital retreat provided: and meantime I shall be able to ‘take mine ease in mine own inn’ whenever so minded. There, my dear friends! I trust now to be able to leave very shortly; the main business cannot be formally concluded before two months at least — through the absence of the Marchese, — who left at once to return to his duties as commander of an Austrian ship; but the necessary engagement to sell and buy at a specified price is made in due legal form, and the papers will be sent to me in London for signature. I hope to get away the week after next at latest, — spite of the weather in England which to-day’s letters report as ‘atrocious’, — and ours, though variable, is in the main very tolerable and sometimes perfect; for all that, I yearn to be at home in poor Warwick Crescent, which must do its best to make me forget my new abode. I forget you don’t know Venice. Well then, the Palazzo Manzoni is situate on the Grand Canal, and is described by Ruskin, — to give no other authority, — as ‘a perfect and very rich example of Byzantine Renaissance: its warm yellow marbles are magnificent.’ And again — ’an exquisite example (of Byzantine Renaissance) as applied to domestic architecture.’ So testify the ‘Stones of Venice’. But we will talk about the place, over a photograph, when I am happy enough to be with you again.
Of Venetian gossip there is next to none. We had an admirable Venetian Company, — using the dialect, — at the Goldoni Theatre. The acting of Zago, in his various parts, and Zenon-Palladini, in her especial character of a Venetian piece of volubility and impulsiveness in the shape of a servant, were admirable indeed. The manager, Gallina, is a playwright of much reputation, and gave us some dozen of his own pieces, mostly good and clever. S. is very well, — much improved in health: we walk sufficiently in this city where walking is accounted impossible by those who never attempt it. Have I tired your good temper? No! you ever wished me well, and I love you both with my whole heart. S.’s love goes with mine — who am ever yours Robert Browning.
He never, however, owned the Manzoni Palace. The Austrian gentlemen* whose property it was, put forward, at the last moment, unexpected and to his mind unreasonable claims; and he was preparing to contest the position, when a timely warning induced him to withdraw from it altogether. The warning proceeded from his son, who had remained on the spot, and was now informed on competent authority that the foundations of the house were insecure.
* Two or three brothers.
In the early summer of 1884, and again in 1886, Miss Browning had a serious illness; and though she recovered, in each case completely, and in the first rapidly, it was considered desirable that she should not travel so far as usual from home. She and her brother therefore accepted for the August and September of 1884 the urgent invitation of an American friend, Mrs. Bloomfield Moore, to stay with her at a villa which she rented for some seasons at St. Moritz. Mr. Browning was delighted with the Engadine, where the circumstances of his abode, and the thoughtful kindness of his hostess, allowed him to enjoy the benefits of comparative civilization together with almost perfect repose. The weather that year was brilliant until the end of September, if not beyond it; and his letters tell the old pleasant story of long daily walks and a general sense of invigoration. One of these, written to Mr. and Mrs. Skirrow, also contains some pungent remarks on contemporary events, with an affectionate allusion to one of the chief actors in them.
‘Anyhow, I have the sincerest hope that Wolseley may get done as soon, and kill as few people, as possible, — keeping himself safe and sound — brave dear fellow — for the benefit of us all.’
He also speaks with great sympathy of the death of Mr. Charles Sartoris, which had just taken place at St.-Moritz.
In 1886, Miss Browning was not allowed to leave England; and she and Mr. Browning established themselves for the autumn at the Hand Hotel at Llangollen, where their old friends, Sir Theodore and Lady Martin, would be within easy reach. Mr. Browning missed the exhilarating effects of the Alpine air; but he enjoyed the peaceful beauty of the Welsh valley, and the quiet and comfort of the old-fashioned English inn. A new source of interest also presented itself to him in some aspects of the life of the English country gentleman. He was struck by the improvements effected by its actual owner* on a neighbouring estate, and by the provisions contained in them for the comfort of both the men and the animals under his care; and he afterwards made, in reference to them, what was for a professing Liberal, a very striking remark: ‘Talk of abolishing that class of men! They are the salt of the earth!’ Every Sunday afternoon he and his sister