4927. RB to Sophia Landor
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 29, 176–178.
Florence,
July 6. ’61.
My dear Miss Landor,
It is probable you have already in some way been apprised of the calamity that has befallen me: my wife died a week ago. I have been unable to see even your Uncle yet—your letter, however, reminds me of my duty to you—or rather of the apprehension that this news may cause you lest fresh trouble arise from this grave change in my life,—I shall endeavor therefore to say that I hope there needs follow no material inconvenience to you nor to your Uncle from my next step—which will be to leave Italy at once,—the object of my fifteen years stay being gone. I go in a few days to Paris and eventually to England, having to occupy myself with the education of my child. I shall best deserve all the confidence of your family by speaking as plainly and intelligibly as I can (for I have difficulty in speaking at all) and giving you the results of my two years’ experience of the best course to be taken with your Uncle—it would be affectation and unworthiness to pretend any uncertainty on my part—on the other hand, you will decide as you judge best and behave perfectly in every event. It will be for the best then that all my arrangements continue, that I communicate with my Banker [1] and Made Romagnoli, and occasionally with Mr Landor: he cannot be treated more advantageously than he is, nor do I believe that a person to replace Mad: R. could be found. I know no one here who would be able or willing to take my own place and superintend your Uncle—no one who has sufficient interest in him to go thro’ the preliminaries of obtaining his respect—for love’s sake, at least: I think I have enough influence to manage him from Paris as from Rome, in virtue of the habit of acquiescing in my arrangements which two years have induced. His family, I am told, are desirous of taking him back: I see none of them, and can only give you my confidential & honest advice never to allow it,—which is the same as saying, never to place his allowance in their hands and leave them to administrate it as they please: he would not stay with them a week, if escape were possible, and his violence would soon furnish them with excuse for making it impossible, without the allowance, they will undertake nothing, of course. I am far from guaranteeing the success of my own plan,—the serious responsibility and not inconsiderable increase of trouble to myself may all be in pure waste—but there is a chance of his continuing to be comfortable in the enjoyment of your bounty—and none of his doing so under any other conditions, I do believe. As to poor Mr L:—I suspect my knowledge of him is already in advance of yours, for you “feared he might have been painfully excited by the communication of his Brothers”: be assured he was quite amused and put in spirits by the notion of having nearly played a trick which might have been successful, and of its all ending in the schoolmaster’s mere reprimand—nor was there one particle of sincerity in his excuses to you or professions of contentment to me: he protested most earnestly that he wanted nothing, had wanted nothing, and should require nothing till I don’t know when—and, now he knew whence his money came exclusively, would behave to perfection—and yet, a week after, there was put into my hand a fresh and augmented letter and libel about the Yescombes which he had intreated a friend [2] to order to [be] printed in America at his expense—he requiring “only twenty copies”—now he knew that he had no means of his own of doing this, and that, once the publication effected,—all he cared about,—the money would have to come from his brother whose interests he was so chary of infringing upon—and through my help, whom he was all gratitude to and who would be infinitely annoyed by the success of his “ruse”: the lady friend brought the letter to me, fortunately—and will always take these fireworks out of his fingers when he will let her– So what should we gain by her moving her quarters as you seem to desiderate? Mr Landor must have some pretty girl to devote himself to and some luckless “ordinary” woman to teaze—that is his daily meat and drink: failing a good, conscientious person like the lady we refer to, he would cultivate the kitchen-wench,—fact, he was discovering undeveloped worlds of worth in the poor little “donna di faccenda” [3] and corresponding infamies in Made Romagnoli’s treatment of her, when this brighter vision engaged his thoughts. Don’t call me harsh this time—dear Miss Landor: the state of my mind permits me neither to gloss over the truth nor to feel anything but infinite pity for it, sincerest wish to be of use as long as I may: there is partly infirmity, senility to excuse this sad work—but I much fear there is a taking advantage of these for a pretext and excuse: I shall never mention the matter to him—for he would have “forgotten all about it”—about it’s being wrong, about his promising—in short, it would be all the tactics of a child employed by one of the rare and true men of genius! Still the end is—on the whole I can do far more with him than anybody else—shall I try and continue, even at a distance? There are horses who will stand quiet at the voice of the groom—when a stranger finds it hard to hold them by the bridle. I will enclose you the note he sent me two days ago, to show you how we “stand” up to nearly the last minute: very likely when my back is turned he may express himself less favorably; I have just the same earnest desire to serve him that I had two years ago. I have material interests in Tuscany, funded property &c and must continue my relations with the Banker & others but it is utterly out of the question that I should remain there a minute longer than I can help. You will write, if you please, to me care of “Miss Browning, 151. Rue de Grenelle, Faubourg St Germain, Paris”. I have no time to wait your answer, nor indeed is it necessary: you can approve (as I suppose you will) or not, and be equally sure of my assistance to the last. I cannot reread this letter, which must read as strangely as my feeling in writing it is strange. You will understand and sympathise with me I know: pray excuse me also to your uncles, if it is necessary to communicate with them.
Faithfully yours, dear Miss Landor,
Robert Browning.
Poor Mr Empson,—I am sorry for him, too.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Yale University.
1. Carlo Brini (1816–83).
2. Kate Field.
3. “Housemaid.”
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