A Trip to Paris and Belgium<lb/> [Travel Sonnets] Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1 Digital images used with permission of the Duke University Rare Book, Manuscript, and Special Collections Library. [A Trip to Paris and Belgium / Travel Sonnets] Dante Gabriel Rossetti 1849 October fair copy The manuscript consists of two holograph leaves plus a small leaf attached later with a note by WMR. One of the holograph leaves is twice the size of the other, which has been torn in order to make both into a small letter packet. The larger leaf is folded twice, once vertically and then again horizontally. The smaller leaf is folded horizontally. Thus folded, DGR was able to address the packet to George Tupper and enclose the whole thing for posting (Geo. Tupper/25 Clemont Lane/Lombard Street). The note by WMR was added much later when he was editing his brother's poems. DGR DGR Duke U. Library In Baum's Analytical List of Manuscripts in the Duke University Library this is indexed as No.XX. light blue, 8 13/16 x 7 3/16 in. (large leaf); 8 13/16 x 3 5/3 in (smaller leaf) BACKHOUSE & CO/1849 This is the same paper DGR used for the Duke Library's manuscript of <xref doc="a.9p-1850.s121.raw">“St. Agnes of Intercession”</xref> . Commentary
Introduction

This selection of poems that DGR wrote during his 1849 trip to the continent represents a kind of epitome of the trip as DGR reflected on it at its conclusion. He sent the packet to his friend George Tupper, whose name and address appears on the first side (Geo. Tupper/25 Clemont Lane/Lombard Street). The texts (including prose notes) are on two sides of two folded blue leaves that make up six sides altogether.

DGR sent the packet to Tupper either from Bruges or (what is more likely) from London after he had returned from his trip to the continent in the fall of 1849. It includes <xref doc="a.16-1849.raw">“On a Handful of French Money”</xref> , <xref doc="a.38-1849.raw">“For an Allegorical Dance of Women”</xref> , <xref doc="a.34-1849.raw">“At the Station of the Versailles Railway”</xref> , <xref doc="a.18-1849.raw">“In the Train, and at Versailles”</xref> , <xref doc="a.36-1849.raw">“Sir Peter Paul Rubens”</xref> , <xref doc="a.29-1849.raw">“Antwerp to Ghent”</xref> , and <xref doc="a.37-1849.raw">“Between Ghent and Bruges”</xref> .

Textual History: Composition

The document was probably sent to Tupper sometime late in October.

Textual History: Revision

Production History

Reception History

Iconographic

Printing History

Pictorial

Historical

Literary

Translation

Autobiographical

Bibliographic

Baum, <hi rend="i">Analytical List of Manuscripts in the Duke University Library With Hitherto Unpublished Verse and Prose</hi> 12-14

This cover note by WMR references the second poem in the sequence gathered in this group.

This sonnet commencing“Scarcely I think” wasprinted in “The Germ”p. 181.

 On a handful of French money These coins that jostle on my hand do own No single image: each name here & date Marks? Denoting in man's consciousness & in his state New change. In some, the face is clearly known,— In others marred. The badge of some that old throne Of Kings is on the obverse; or that this sign Which says, “I France am all—ah wholly mine/ [?] lo, I am mine!” Or else the eagle that dared soar alone. Even as these coins, so are these lives & years Mixed and bewildered; yet hath each of them No less its part in what is come to be For France. Empire, Republic, Monarchy,— Each beast—more or less strongly but the ? clamours or keeps silence in her name, Has life—even in And lives within the pulse that now is hers. ---- On an allegorical Dance of Nymphs, <lb/>by Andrea Mantegna; in the Louvre Scarcely, I think; yet it indeed may be The meaning reached him, when this music rang Sharp through his brain, a distinct rapid pang, And he beheld these rocks and that ridged sea. But I believe he just leaned passively, And felt their hair carried across his face As each nymph passed him; nor gave ear to trace How many feet; nor bent assuredly His eyes from the vague fixedness of thought To see the dancers. It is bitter glad Even unto tears. Its meaning filleth it, A portion of most secret life: to wit:— Each human pulse shall keep the sense it had For all, though the mind's labour run to nought. At the Station of the Versailles Railway I waited for the train unto Versailles. I hung with bonnes and gamins on the bridge Watching the gravelled road where, ridge with ridge, Under black arches gleam the iron rails Clear in the darkness, till the darkness fails And they press on to light again—again To reach the dark. I waited for the train Unto Versailles; I leaned over the bridge, And wondered, cold and drowsy, why the knave Claude is in worship; and why (sense apart) Rubens preferred a mustard vehicle. The wind veered short. I turned upon my heel Saying, “Correggio was a toad”; then gave Three dizzy yawns, and knew not of the Art. ----- In the Train, and at Versailles In a dull swiftness we are carried by With bodies left at sway and shaking knees. The wind has ceased, or is a feeble breeze Warm in the sun. The leaves are not yet dry From yesterday's dense rain. All, low and high, A strong green country; but, among its trees, Ruddy and thin with Autumn. After these There is the city still before the sky. x x x Versailles is reached. Pass we the galleries And seek the gardens. A great silence here, Thro the long planted alleys, to the long Distance of water. More than tune or song, Silence shall grow to awe within thine eyes, Till thy thought swim with the blue turning sphere. ------ DGR's prose note here refer to the sonnet, “For an Allegorical Dance of Women by Andrea Mantegna (In the Louvre” drafted on page [1r].

It is necessary to state that mention that this picture app would appear to have been in the artist's mind, an allegory, which it must now baffle the modern spectatorto interpret may now seek vainly to interpret.

In the picture, two cavaliers and a naked woman are seated in the grass with musical instruments, while another woman, also naked, dips a vase into a well hard by for water.

 George Tupper's address is written upside-down in the upper half of the page. Below it, a faint drawing of an indoor scene marked with perspective lines is faintly visible. One part is marked “12 ft.”, with some lettering above, “P.D. ?”.

Geo. Tupper [?]25 Clemont LaneLombard Street

 Sir Peter Paul Rubens<lb/>(Antwerp) “Messieurs, le Dieu des peintres” . We felt odd;— 'Twas Rubens, sculptured. A mean florid church Was the next thing we saw,—from vane to porch His drivel. The Museum: as we trod Its steps, his bust held us at bay. The clod Has slosh by miles along the wall within. Poor ass!(“I say, I somehow feel my gorge begin To rise.”) His chair in a glass case, by God! . . . To the Cathedral! Here too the vile snob Has fouled in every corner. (“Wherefore brave Our fate? Let's bolt go.”) There is a monument We pass. “Messieurs, you tread upon the grave Of the great Rubens.” “Well, that's one good job! What time to-morrow this evening is the train for Ghent?” ----- From Antwerp to Ghent We are upon the Scheldt. We know we move Because there is a floating at our eyes Whatso they seek; and because all the things Which at on our outset were distinct and large Are smaller and much weaker, and quite grey, And at last gone from us. No motion else. We are upon the road. The thin swift moon Runs with the running clouds that are the sky, And with the running water runs—at whiles Weak 'neath the film and heavy growth of reeds. The country swims with motion. Time itself Is consciously beside us, and perceived. Our speed is such, the sparks our engine leaves Are burning after the whole train has passed. The darkness is a tumult. We tear on, The roll behind us and the cry before, Constantly, in a lull of intense speed And thunder. Any other sound is known Merely by sight. The shrubs, the trees your eye Scans for their growth, are far along in haze. The sky has lost its clouds, and lies away Oppressively at calm: the moon has failed: Our speed has set the wind against us. Now Our engine's heat is fiercer, and flings up Great glares alongside. Wind, and steam, & speed, And clamour, and the night. We are in Ghent. ------------ From Ghent to Bruges Ah yes, exactly so: but when a man Has trundled out of England into France And half through Belgium, always in this prance Of steam, and still has stuck to his first plan Blank verse or sonnets; and as he began Would end:—why, even the blankest verse may chance To falter in default of circumstance, And even the sonnet lack its mystic span. Trees will be trees, grass grass, pools merely pools, Unto the end of time and Belgium. Points Of fact which Poets (very abject fools) Get scent of—once their epithets grown tame And scarce. Even to these foreign rails—my joints Begin to find their jolting much the same. ------