GE to Mary, Eleanor, and Florence Cross, Venice, 13 June 1880
Title
GE to Mary, Eleanor, and Florence Cross, Venice, 13 June 1880
Title
GE to Mary, Eleanor, and Florence Cross, Venice, 13 June 1880
Sender
George Eliot
Recipient
Mary, Eleanor and Florence Cross
Date(s)
- 1880-06-13
Place
Venice
Letter Content
GE to Mary, Eleanor, and Florence Cross, Venice, 13 June 1880
MS: Yale. Envelope: Miss Cross | Weybridge Heath | London | England. Postmarks: VENEZIA | 13 | 6 80 | 8s; WEYBRIDGE STATION | B | JU 16 | 80. Hitherto unpublished.
Venice June 13. 1880.
Beloved Sisters three
I am rather disgusted with myself that I have been so long without finding time to write to you, but please take this omission as a proof that people do not always find time to do what they like, at least when they have many things they like to do and some which they must do. I have been obliged to write to Charlie and some other friends to whom I was in debt. Then our delightful occupations have a largo which spreads them over all the large spaces of the day, and in the smaller spaces I have often been ignobly obliged to put stitches into my dresses and bonnets.
We have had nothing that we call heat yet -- only a delicious sense of sun and a mild breeziness. But we seem to be almost the only persons in our hotel of the foresti'e8re species, and the Porter opines that everybody is now going to Switzerland. Still we see an occasional group of English or Americans in the churches or on the landing places of other hotels, but we shall not be ashamed if they all leave us behind. There is a little trouble on our minds about Eleanor's letter sent to Milan, which Johnnie has twice written after in vain. But he has lately hit on the ingenious supposition that the landlord of the Gran Bretagne, who at once politely wrote to say that he had forwarded the letter to Verona, may have addressed "Due Torri" instead of "Torre di Londra," and he has written to the "Due Torri" accordingly. We cannot reconcile ourselves to losing one of your dear letters. The other day, through an indication of Ruskin's where his books might be got in Venice, we made the acquaintance of Mr. Bunney, 445 an excellent painter and an interesting man, who has been of service to us in pointing out several things which we should not have seen without his aid. He is making an exact portrait of the fa'e7ade of St. Mark's which will serve as a record to those who come after us, as Gentile Bellini's taken 400 years ago serves to us. 446 Then, he has made endless sketches of the various moods of sea and sky as seen from his window on a second floor of the Riva de' Schiavoni. And we are going this afternoon to look through his drawings again that we may choose one to have at home either at Chelsea or Witley. We shall be indebted to this good Mr. Bunney for a sight of the picture which is one of several that Ruskin calls by turns the finest or most precious in the world. It is in the Correr Museum, but because of a removal which is going forward the public generally is not admitted for the present and we were in despair of seeing said picture (by Carpaccio) 447 until Mr. Bunney volunteered to use his privilege on our behalf and take us with him to the Museum tomorrow.
These civilities, which cost him time are some compensation to us for his having found out, through a young lady artist who saw us at the Accad'e8mia, that I am the criminal usually known under the name of George Eliot. There is not much harm in this betrayal since we live in deep retirement, partly in our rooms and partly in our gondola, never going to sit in the Piazza in the evening -- the only place and time when there would be danger of greetings. -- We have not yet had the longed-for solemnity of floating in the sunset glory of the lagoon. This we hope to do one evening soon by going to dine on the Lido and coming back just at the right moment. Mr. Bunney's drawings give the most wonderful sky effects in the depths of winter, chiefly in January, and I fear we shall not see the best in this way. But the most modest sunset sends a wondrous light over the watery scene, and every evening we see from our window the white church of S. Giorgio Maggiore and its red tower looking like ivory and coral. This place seems sometimes to me very toy-like with all its costly magnificence of old -- as if the doges and grandees had been rich children who pleased themselves with making strange, pretty things on a mimic land in a safe, shallow lake. One gets a new sensation on reaching the other side of the Lido and sitting to watch the line of tidal waves. This is an excellent spot for getting a sea bath and Johnnie rather longs to have a swim there. But though the temperature is agreeable it has not the sort of heat that makes a plunge in cold water as good as a drink to the thirsty.
We are always greedy after fresh letters from you, and the last unsettling of all former hopes about a good locality for the desired house keeps us in wonder as to what we shall hear next. Our address must still be Poste Restante, Venice, for even if we leave before the arrival of a letter, it will be sent after us to our next place of sojourn. And we have not yet begun to say when we shall go away from our present enjoyments, all other foreign places seeming like a declension from this noiseless, dustless beatification of a sea-side city. Johnnie has entered with great interest into the art of all the wondrous towns from Milan to Venice, and to me the journey has been a precious revival of memories fifteen or sixteen years old, for it is all that length of time since I was last in North Italy.
We hope that Emily and the children are getting robust or have already become so at Chateau Buggins, and we wonder whether the love we send to Henry and Berthe will have to travel to Six Mile. Please believe in all sorts of tender thoughts about you in the heart of your loving
Sister.
MS: Yale. Envelope: Miss Cross | Weybridge Heath | London | England. Postmarks: VENEZIA | 13 | 6 80 | 8s; WEYBRIDGE STATION | B | JU 16 | 80. Hitherto unpublished.
Venice June 13. 1880.
Beloved Sisters three
I am rather disgusted with myself that I have been so long without finding time to write to you, but please take this omission as a proof that people do not always find time to do what they like, at least when they have many things they like to do and some which they must do. I have been obliged to write to Charlie and some other friends to whom I was in debt. Then our delightful occupations have a largo which spreads them over all the large spaces of the day, and in the smaller spaces I have often been ignobly obliged to put stitches into my dresses and bonnets.
We have had nothing that we call heat yet -- only a delicious sense of sun and a mild breeziness. But we seem to be almost the only persons in our hotel of the foresti'e8re species, and the Porter opines that everybody is now going to Switzerland. Still we see an occasional group of English or Americans in the churches or on the landing places of other hotels, but we shall not be ashamed if they all leave us behind. There is a little trouble on our minds about Eleanor's letter sent to Milan, which Johnnie has twice written after in vain. But he has lately hit on the ingenious supposition that the landlord of the Gran Bretagne, who at once politely wrote to say that he had forwarded the letter to Verona, may have addressed "Due Torri" instead of "Torre di Londra," and he has written to the "Due Torri" accordingly. We cannot reconcile ourselves to losing one of your dear letters. The other day, through an indication of Ruskin's where his books might be got in Venice, we made the acquaintance of Mr. Bunney, 445 an excellent painter and an interesting man, who has been of service to us in pointing out several things which we should not have seen without his aid. He is making an exact portrait of the fa'e7ade of St. Mark's which will serve as a record to those who come after us, as Gentile Bellini's taken 400 years ago serves to us. 446 Then, he has made endless sketches of the various moods of sea and sky as seen from his window on a second floor of the Riva de' Schiavoni. And we are going this afternoon to look through his drawings again that we may choose one to have at home either at Chelsea or Witley. We shall be indebted to this good Mr. Bunney for a sight of the picture which is one of several that Ruskin calls by turns the finest or most precious in the world. It is in the Correr Museum, but because of a removal which is going forward the public generally is not admitted for the present and we were in despair of seeing said picture (by Carpaccio) 447 until Mr. Bunney volunteered to use his privilege on our behalf and take us with him to the Museum tomorrow.
These civilities, which cost him time are some compensation to us for his having found out, through a young lady artist who saw us at the Accad'e8mia, that I am the criminal usually known under the name of George Eliot. There is not much harm in this betrayal since we live in deep retirement, partly in our rooms and partly in our gondola, never going to sit in the Piazza in the evening -- the only place and time when there would be danger of greetings. -- We have not yet had the longed-for solemnity of floating in the sunset glory of the lagoon. This we hope to do one evening soon by going to dine on the Lido and coming back just at the right moment. Mr. Bunney's drawings give the most wonderful sky effects in the depths of winter, chiefly in January, and I fear we shall not see the best in this way. But the most modest sunset sends a wondrous light over the watery scene, and every evening we see from our window the white church of S. Giorgio Maggiore and its red tower looking like ivory and coral. This place seems sometimes to me very toy-like with all its costly magnificence of old -- as if the doges and grandees had been rich children who pleased themselves with making strange, pretty things on a mimic land in a safe, shallow lake. One gets a new sensation on reaching the other side of the Lido and sitting to watch the line of tidal waves. This is an excellent spot for getting a sea bath and Johnnie rather longs to have a swim there. But though the temperature is agreeable it has not the sort of heat that makes a plunge in cold water as good as a drink to the thirsty.
We are always greedy after fresh letters from you, and the last unsettling of all former hopes about a good locality for the desired house keeps us in wonder as to what we shall hear next. Our address must still be Poste Restante, Venice, for even if we leave before the arrival of a letter, it will be sent after us to our next place of sojourn. And we have not yet begun to say when we shall go away from our present enjoyments, all other foreign places seeming like a declension from this noiseless, dustless beatification of a sea-side city. Johnnie has entered with great interest into the art of all the wondrous towns from Milan to Venice, and to me the journey has been a precious revival of memories fifteen or sixteen years old, for it is all that length of time since I was last in North Italy.
We hope that Emily and the children are getting robust or have already become so at Chateau Buggins, and we wonder whether the love we send to Henry and Berthe will have to travel to Six Mile. Please believe in all sorts of tender thoughts about you in the heart of your loving
Sister.
Signature
Sister.
Citation
George Eliot, GE to Mary, Eleanor, and Florence Cross, Venice, 13 June 1880, Complete George Eliot Letters(2026), George Eliot Archive, edited by Beverley Park Rilett. https://GeorgeEliotArchive.org, Accessed September 7, 2026. https://www.georgeeliotarchive.org/items/show/92962