by Henry James
2. Constance Fletcher (1858–1938), an American writer who lived in Italy. Using the pseudonym “George Fleming” she published stories and novels, among which was Kismet, A Nile Novel (1877), which was a great success. Fletcher was not liked by the Anglo-American society living in Italy. Neither the Gurtises nor Miss Woolson liked her. James, however, must have liked her, and also Gertrude Stein later, who met her at Villa Curonia, at Mabel Dodge’s. The reason why Fletcher was not appreciated was partly linked to her mother’s initially “irregular” position: “When Constance was 12 years old her mother fell in love with the English tutor of Constance’s younger brother. Constance knew that her mother was about to leave her home. For a week Constance lay on her bed and wept and then she accompanied her mother and her future stepfather to Italy.” “When Constance was 18 years old she wrote a bestseller called Kismet and was engaged to be married to Lord Lovelace the descendant of Byron. She did not marry him and thereafter lived always in Italy”, see Gertrude Stein, The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas (1933), in Selected Writings, edited by C. Van Vechten, New York, Vintage, 1962, p.122. Eugene Benson (1839–1908), Constance’s stepfather, was a painter who often participated in the Biennial Expositions of Venice, where he lived, in Ca’ Cappello.
XXVIII
To Jessie Allen1
Monday June 24th 1907
(Edel IV)
Palazzo Barbaro,
Canal Grande Venezia
Dear brave and ever-prized Goody.
You will wonder what has been “becoming” of me—but not more, with my prolonged absence, than I have wondered what has been becoming of myself. I am at last on the near “home stretch,” and I yearn for that goal—but though I shall thus see you the sooner I feel that I shan’t be able to meet you with any clearness of conscience unless I shall have made you a sign from these ever adorable (never more so!) marble halls and sent you some echo of our inimitable Barbarites—who are quite as inimitable as ever. I came here five days ago—from a week in Florence and previous month, almost, in Rome and Naples—all of which time Ariana was pulling awfully hard at one end of my scant tether. I am now the only guest—the full-blown summer is divine (even if pretty torrid), D. and A. are kindness and hospitality unlimited (or limited only by my condemnation to sneaking relations with everyone else—it would never be possible, on this ground, for me to stay here again); and in short Venice is really (thanks to the glow and large ease of the season) more characteristically exquisite and loveable than I’ve ever known it. I have this vast cool upper floor—all scirocco draughts and easy undressedness quite to myself; I go out with Ariana at 5, in the cool (comparative), and then again by moonlight; so that if I’m not madly in love with her what influence is wanting? Dan’l visits the matutinal Lido in the torrid A.M. hours—just as of yore—but if he yearns, yearns in vain for my society. Angelo the everlasting has his white-gloved forefinger (as of yore) on almost every morsel that goes down my throat, and Angelino, worthy offshoot of such a scion, gets my hat off my head and my stick out of my fond clutch almost before I’m half up the grand staircase. So you see the dear old Barbarism is an element undefiled and uncorrupted—and that every note strikes true from the cool dim dawn, when the canal is a great curly floor of dark green marble, to the still cooler blue night when I go forth with my Lady to be cradled by the plash outside the Giudecca. But of all this I must tell you—and of the new heartbreak it is just only to feel this enchantress (I allude now to the terrible old Venice herself!) weave her spell just again supremely to lose her. One dreams again so of some clutched perch of one’s own here. But it’s the most drivelling of dreams. Our friends leave for England on the 29th and I the day before—next Friday. I go to Milan and Lausanne (by the Simplon orifice) and then to Paris—Dover—Rye. I come up to town for three or four days about July 12th. Then for a jaw! Such a fine old feast as it will be to see you—and I allude neither to lunch nor to dinner. You will probably even see D. and A. first. That is best! Forgive this mere scrap of a hand-wag from your faithful old
Henry James
NOTE
1. Elisabeth Jessie Allen (1845–1918), of a noble British family, was introduced to James by the Curtises at Palazzo Barbaro in 1899. James made friends with the lively lady, who was a brilliant talker and letter writer, and would send him excessively wonderful presents for Christmas. After the gift of two bear skins, which James did not want to accept, the two friends made a deal: James accepted the gift, on the condition that he would call her “Goody-Two-Shoes” for the rest of his life. The name was that of an XVIII century story, attributed to Oliver Goldsmith, which told about a poor orphan girl who owned one shoe only and was given another shoe (see also, Letters IV, p.153; The Master, pp.151–156). See also H. James, Letters to Miss Allen, Rosella Mamoli Zorzi ed., Milan, Archinto, 1993.
Scirocco by Ralph Curtis
LETTERS BY THE CURTISES
I
Ariana Curtis to Mary Curtis1
October 27th [1883]
(Marciana Ms.)
Venice, Palazzo Barbaro
My dear Mary.
Now you must be back in Boston—and I daresay you are glad to be at home, after so long battling with the foe in the shape of hotel keepers, etc. I am sorry you are so far off. Nothing especial here—The weather celestial, and no thought of winter—fires only in the evening, for cheerfulness’ sake. The vendemmia is over at the Vendramin2. The grapes all cut, only a lingering few still left for the table. We are now about to make plantations of rhododendrons, mahonias, and such, in place of the cabbages of this year. The old days of Chest[nut] Hill planting seem renewed—and I hold trees while the earth is shovelled over their roots—rien n’est changé que le nom du jardinier—Domenico D’Este instead of Nelson Stevens, or Otis P. Norcross. The certainty of success with young trees is also a comfortable change—we shall not see our darlings wizzle in the icy Northwest blast. You must have arrived in time to drink Johnny Lowell’s health on his wedding day3. Much love and congrat[ulation]s to dear Lucy, and to Johnny when you see him. We have seen a good deal of the Brownings since they have been here. Now they are going to Greece with Mrs. Bronson4.
There were beautiful tableaux the other night at Mrs. B[ronson]’s, arranged by Duveneck, who appeared himself as the Bravo of Venice5—in four tableaux—wrapped in his cloak, sharpening his sword, giving the blow—and lastly wiping the fatal weapon. It was tremendous—and made real blood run cold. Afety was in powder and satin—18th century—very pretty—and also as an “Incroyable”. The best was perhaps Laura Mocenigo, a beautiful blonde, as Titian’s daughter—holding the basket of fruit over her head—pearls in her blonde hair, and a nice old brocade gown. Even poor little I was dragged off at a minute’s notice, and made to appear as a Vandyke, with a great fraise pinned onto my gown, which luckily was black satin with a square neck. Miss Ker as her grandmother by Romney6 was beautiful. They were far better than any I ever saw, although got up with hardly any preparation—Duveneck is a great hand at them.
I never got any Spanish books, nor the “Queen” nor Journal des Modes; did get A. Peto7. I therefore owe you the following enclosed list. I had a note from Sara G[reenough]8. She has gone back to Rome. Nina keeps on well. She says they are anxious about Alfred who has not been heard of since May—and has drawn no money. Is that true? No Americans here now; but many English. A very nice Miss Barbara Lyall seems to make a friend of me. Last Saturday we had a roomfull, and but two Am[erican]s. We don’t know yet where we shall go for winter
Ariana
NOTES
1. Mary Curtis, born on March 15, 1827, was the sister of Daniel Sargent Curtis (Mass. Vital Records, Boston, Births 1810–1849, vol. VIII, microfiche 62, Oxford, Mass., Holbrook Research Institute, 1985).
2. The Curtises had the garden of the Vendramin on the Giudecca, where they went in their gondola.
3. Perhaps one of the brothers of Percival Lowell, the famous astronomer, who was a friend of Ralph Curtis with whom he trav
elled to Japan in 1891 and to Algeria in 1895.
4. The project was not carried out.
5. The Bravo of Venice was a very popular subject in nineteenth century historical novels and paintings, including James Fenimore Cooper’s The Bravo (1831), and Meissonnier’s The Two Bravos.
6. Mrs. Ker, see H. Ward and W. Roberts, Romney, London, Agnew, 1904, vol. II, p.88.
7. Ariana is referring to the novel Altiora Peto, by Laurence Oliphant (1829–1888). Oliphant was a British diplomat, traveller and author of many travel books (on Jordan, China, Japan, Palestine, Nepal, Egypt etc.). He was Secretary to Lord Elgin in Washington, D.C. (1854) and in China (1857–1859) and Japan. The Curtises, themselves great travellers to the East, must have enjoyed his works.
8. Sara Greenough: the Greenoughs were related to the Curtises because Daniel Sargent Curtis’s father had married Laura Greenough (1815–1851), as a second bride. Laura was the sister of the sculptor Horatio Greenough (1807–1883)
II
Daniel Sargent Curtis to Mary Curtis
October 31st 1883
(Marciana Ms.)
Venice
Dear Mary.
We suppose you arrived, and that after all you will find Osborne there. We hope you ’scaped certain storms reported on the way and due here now—but only manifest in cirrhus. We go on thus far in lovely weather and still wear summer clothes. We may have had four or five cloudy days only since you left us; and as the garden testifies, no rain except insignificant showers. At evening now we have a little wood fire for brightness, and dine on the large round table in Ralph’s salon, which is very cheery. The sun is bright and warm all day in front and as we won’t shut it out, have to turn over the carpets and cover chairs with newspapers. Duveneck is painting Ralph again and we hope may succeed. Ariana has been ‘at home’ every Saturday, and many visitors, but this year few Americans and many English. Last Sat[urday] of a room full, only Americans were Mrs. Bronson and Duveneck. There are nice French consul and wife lately from Gibraltar where eleven years and speak English perfectly. Young people and their apartment furnished with Spanish and Moorish things. You didn’t see Mme de Pilat, wife of Austrian Consul and sister of Baron Huebner, who is very nice. Brownings, of course, we have much of. They and Bronsons arranged to go to Greece next week. But tout est rompu. He greatly wished to go—but Miss B[rowning] hates sea and Mrs. Bronson very hard to move. So they gave it up. We had capital tableaux vivants arranged by Duveneck at Mrs. Bronson’s. He insisted on A[riana] being a Vandyck, much approved. The great Blumenthal musical composer was there, clever handsome Jew. Also Mundellas1. Brownings walk every a.m. to Pub[lic] Garden and feed the Elephant. They say pomegranates made him drunk. I must take him a lot from our garden. There is a Miss Lyall of London, very […] and knows all the nice folk, stays with Tennyson. She is here with Sir Alex[ander] Gordon and daughter invalid. They came on Sat[urday] evening. Live in Palace below Rialto opposite picturesque but noisy herb market, and wonderful view of Grand Canal as centre of a crescent at that point. We went for the first time to Pal[azzo] Morosini2, close by us, inhabited by the family and permit required. Quite the best thing here, i.e. the ancient abode of ancient family, connected with most great events in history. We have letter from O[sborne] S[argent] C[urtis] today from West. So you will be sure to meet. Also from Sara G[reenough], who had letter from you. Best love to all. Affectionately ever yours
D.S.C.
NOTES
1. The family of Anthony Mundella (1825–1897), a British Member of Parliament.
2. Palazzo Morosini at Santo Stefano, quite close to Palazzo Barbaro, formerly belonging to Francesco I il Peloponnesiaco. Its sumptuous furnishing was at the time still intact. There lived in it Loredana Gatterburg Morosini, the last descendant of the Doge. On her death (1884) the grandiose collections were dispersed in an auction by the Gatterburg heirs.
III
Ariana Curtis to Mary Curtis
November 8th [1885]
(Marciana Ms.)
Venice, Palazzo Barbaro
My dear Mary –
I have your of October 9th […] I must tell you a secret, as I know it will interest you—and I wish you to know it before anybody else. We have bought the Barbaro. But the papers have not yet been signed, and so we say nothing about it—as there are two rich people here each looking about for a palazzo, and if the Jew1 who now owns it had a superior offer, I think he is capable of throwing us over. We shall have the whole palace, except Countess Pisani’s mezzanine—and pay 70.000 francs—about $13.500 at present rate of exchange. This part please keep quite to yourself—as if we should sell it again—we should ask a great deal more. The common Italians are not at all aware of the artistic value of such a unique specimen of decoration of 17th century as our gran sala. They consider the value as based upon the number of rooms, and the vicinity to the Piazza. A marble-floor maker told Angelo, it would cost 15.000 francs to make the dining room floor now—the one with sunflowers and mother o’ pearl. We have been much exercised in our minds for a year as to whether we should give it up when our lease expires—but I confess to feeling somewhat like the Arab to his horse, at the thought of turning my back on the dear old place. We, however, do not intend to be tied to it—regarding it as a good investment, for there is a ‘boom’ in Venetian palaces, and the price will rapidly rise, if rich foreigners begin to set the fashion of buying them. We are now conducting the negotiations for a friend for one, which will make the third bought by foreigners this year.
We went up to see the floors over us. They are very nice and have view over the laguna. We shall let them to bachelors, if any desirable ones turn up, and in that way make our purchase a paying investment. The banker Blumenthal says D.S.C. has got a very valuable piece of property. We are to have a winter apartment in Rome in the house just bought by a young man named Crawshay2, with whom Ralph has gone to Vienna. We shall not be able to have it before next winter however. It is opposite Barberini Palace. The Brownings are coming to dine today, as they often do. Mr. Browning reads his poetry to us—it is a very great pleasure. What would the Browning society people3 give to be present! I had an afternoon party one day to hear him. We have had a great deal of company this autumn—nice people—mostly English. My receptions have been quite full and gay—tapering off now, and I think I shall soon stop. I invited general Lee’s Italian fiancée last time. She is pleasing, modest, and speaks English, luckily for George who would be quite unable to declare his passion in Italian. I have had seven visitors in succession this afternoon, interrupting every time I sat down to this letter.
With much love, ever dear Mary, your affectionate sister,
Ariana
NOTES
1. Cav. Cesare Musatti, who then owned the palace thanks to his wife Sofia Cantoni, whose father, Israele Cantoni, had in turn bought it on July 7, 1875. The selling of the palace began in 1861 (April 6), when Elisa Basso, who had inherited it from Marc’Antonio Barbaro (who died September 24, 1858) sold it to Anselmo Clerlé, Isacco Jenna and Alberto Ehrenfreund. Part of the palace was sold in 1866 (24 March) to Victorine Roussel-Pardelli and her husband Giovanni Pardelli, part (two-thirds) was sold by Ehrenfreund to Lampronti and Jenna, and then to Israele Cantoni.
2. Robert Thompson Crawshay, a friend of Ralph Curtis.
3. The Browning Society was founded by F. J. Furnivall and Emily Hickey in 1881.
IV
Ariana Curtis to Mary Curtis
January 31st [1886]
(Marciana Ms.)
Rome, Hôtel Victoria
My dear Mary.
Daniel got your letter the other day—and we were very glad to hear—for it was such an immense time that we were afraid there was something the matter—and we were anxious to know how the Venice plan had struck you. There is no immediate need of coming to a decision—for, though we have already had several enquiries as to whether we should be willing to let the apartments upstairs, we have declined to give any answer until we have really
become acquainted with the place—and know what would be most suitable for you, if you decide to come. We should also be very particular indeed about tenants—no children—no pianos. A bride and bridegroom have applied—who are to be married in June—possibly we may let them have the other apartment—as they are nice young people […] We have been amused this week with an auction sale of a Spanish painter’s things in the Storys’ Studio building1. We authorised Waldo to bid for us, and strange to say, we got the very things we wanted! They are first a very curious old Spanish 1600 Cabinet called a “Bargueña”—and stand—covered outside with plaques of old iron-work—gilded—altogether a very curious and peculiar thing. Mr. Alvarez bought it out of a Convent at Oviedo. Secondly, a small Moorish Cabinet—bought in the Asturias—quite a beauty—old inlaying in Arab designs. Thirdly some pieces of old Cordovan leather, gold and silver and colours—very handsome indeed. We are to lend it to old Hébert2, the painter, Director of the Villa Medici, who was in despair at not getting it—for a background to a picture he is painting. Now the Barbaro is ours, there is some fun in beautifying it—and you will see many improvements. Angelo writes that they have just discovered a secret staircase, in the wall, bricked up—behind the small salon. Could this have been for spies? who used to be about the path and bed of all Venetians […].