In a Winter City

by Ouida

This work has been selected by scholars as being culturally important, and is part of the knowledge base of civilization as we know it. This work was reproduced from the original artifact, and remains as true to the original work as possible. Therefore, you will see the original copyright references, library stamps (as most of these works have been housed in our most important libraries around the world), and other notations in the work.

This work is in the public domain in the United States of America, and possibly other nations. Within the United States, you may freely copy and distribute this work, as no entity (individual or corporate) has a copyright on the body of the work.

As a reproduction of a historical artifact, this work may contain missing or blurred pages, poor pictures, errant marks, etc. Scholars believe, and we concur, that this work is important enough to be preserved, reproduced, and made generally available to the public. We appreciate your support of the preservation process, and thank you for being an important part of keeping this knowledge alive and relevant.

258 pages, novel

First published January 1, 1876

About the author

Ouida was the pen name of the English novelist Maria Louise Ramé (although she preferred to be known as Marie Louise de la Ramée).

During her career, she wrote more than 40 novels, children's books and collections of short stories and essays. She was an animal rights activist and animal rescuer, and at times owned as many as thirty dogs. For many years she lived in London, but about 1874 she went to Italy, where she died.

Ouida's work went through several phases during her career. In her early period, her novels were a hybrid of the sensationalism of the 1860s and the proto-adventure novels dubbed "muscular fiction" that were emerging in part as a romanticization of imperial expansion. Later her work was more along the lines of historical romance, though she never stopped comment on contemporary society. She also wrote several stories for children. One of her most famous novels, Under Two Flags, described the British in Algeria in the most extravagant of terms, while nonetheless also expressing sympathy for the French—with whom Ouida deeply identified—and, to some extent, the Arabs. This book went on to be staged in plays, and subsequently to be turned into at least three movies, transitioning Ouida in the 20th century.

Jack London cites her novel Signa, which describes an unschooled Italian peasant child who achieves fame as an opera composer, and which he read at age eight, as one of the eight reasons for his literary success.

Reviews

[Jesse · Rating 5 out of 5]

Misty rainbows glittering off morning dew reflected; that is how I would like to encapsulate the feel of this book. In it we find yet another tale of the boy born with everything, having nothing; this time, however, he meets the girl who has it all, that is, except that thing she desires most. This charming, albeit somewhat truncated Ouida novel is set in a fictional place called Floralia. Much like the ancient Roman festival devoted to the goddess Flora that shared its name (coincidentally, or perhaps intentionally?) Ouida’s depiction of the urban scenes evokes vivid mental brushstrokes of Florence and Rome in wintered hues. The story centers on a plot hatched by a cosmopolitan supporting character named Duc de St. Louis. This French gentleman import to fashionable Italian society basically wishes to secure a marriage of advantage for his good friend, the Duc della Rocca. In typical Ouida style, the Della Rocca is portrayed as being a rare balance of handsomeness and charm, as sensitive as he is cultured. Much to the delight of the Duc de St. Louis, Della Rocca soon becomes acquainted with the most popular of the Great Ladies in Floralia, Lady Hilda Vorarlberg. The breathtakingly beautiful and insanely wealthy widow, Lady Hilda, is the talk of the town in Floralia. With her original accents to her Worth dresses, she is the envy of all the “Penal Settlement” —the name she has given to all those outside of her acquaintance. In terms of looks and chemistry the two are match made in heaven, and a perfectly sanctioned friendship rapidly beckons what would normally have been considered a well suited marriage. Della Rocca, however, entertains certain hang-ups about his lack of personal wealth, despite being debtless and of noble name and rank. Moreover, the dilemma of Lady Hilda’s disproportionate wealth and assets is also a problem for Lady Hilda’s squelchy, old-fashioned brother Lord Clairvaux. What is worse is that Lady Hilda is hiding a dreadful secret that could have potentially serious consequences if it was suddenly brought to light.

The novel has just enough substance to anchor it without weighing down the flowing pace of the storyline. I believe that the book’s substance, however, is vital to understanding the author’s development as a writer and a thinker on a holistic level. Most of the substance of the novel runs throughout the narrative as a thematic subtext that take the form of a dialectical undercurrent. It is an undercurrent which deals directly with the perpetual contest between what Ouida refers to as the Femme Galante, or her caricaturing of her ideas on the perversion of womanhood, and the feminine ideal in the image of the Grand Dame. Note how Ouida opens her long description of the Femme Galante as the archetype takes on various permutations throughout history:

The Femme Galante has passed through many various changes, in many countries. The dames of the Decamerone were unlike the fair athlete-seekers of the days of Horace; and the powdered coquettes of the years of Moliere common vice to the frivolous and fragile fagot of impulses that is called Frou-frou. The Femme Galante has always been a feature in every age. Poets, from Juvenal to Musset, have railed at her; artists, from Titian to Winterhalter, have painted her; dramatists, from Aristophanes to Congreve and Beaumarchais and Dumas Fils, have pointed their arrows at her; caricaturists, from Archilochus and Simonides to Hogarth and Gavarni, have poured out their aqua-fortis for her. But the real Femme Galante of to-day has been missed hitherto. (Lippincott 1887, 57)

In In A Winter City, the Femme Galante is embodied in the character of Madame Mila, Countess de Caviare, Lady Hilda’s cousin. Of course Mila smokes, drinks, and gambles without scruples, but she is still a lady, and therefore maintains the necessary appearances. Appearances aside, she nevertheless manages to continue to complicate Lady Hilda’s own sense of serenity with her obnoxious lifestyle and attitude (not mention the toll she takes on Hilda’s bank account!). The verbal back and forth that transpires between them in their various disputes serve to flesh out some of Ouida’s more interesting ideas on an unformulated model of a feminine typology for nineteenth century women. It moves her other sovereign stories forward developmentally—that is those novels which feature some kind of autonomous female protagonist at their core (e.g. Idalia and Wanda). More tellingly, however, is that Lady Hilda clearly anticipates Nadine Napraxine from Princess Napraxine (1884), one of Ouida’s most intriguing works.

All together you’ll get a good ride with this Ouida novel, light—and one that will satisfy your fix for her gorgeous style. This book goes wonderfully with mild winter weather, hot-house flowers, and a warm cup of tea. Cozy up with In A Winter City, and I hope you’ll enjoy it as much I did.

[Mia · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was one of the most beautifully written books I have ever read. It is such a shame that it has been lost in time. I found its themes still somewhat relevant to the modern day and it touched my heart. I highly, highly recommend it to anyone who can get their hands on a copy.

[Natalie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderfully romantic and witty! I loved it! It's a shame that it's so little-known. I happened upon it by accident myself.