4929. RB to Sarianna Browning
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 29, 179–181.
Florence,
Saturday. July 13. ’61.
My dearest,
You will be anxious to hear from me: I am very much better than I could have supposed possible,—and Peni is entirely well & good. I sleep up at Isa’s Villa every night, returning here to breakfast. I am engaged all day in preparations for departure—it is far best to get done with them now & leave nothing on my mind—in fact, once away I don’t choose to return. I wrote to you the other day & told you what I was proposing to do—& can add nothing to the little I said. I suppose I shall be ready to leave by next week’s end—say on Monday week, 22d,—and shall go to Paris directly,—stay a day or two only,—go to Arabel for a few days & then return—we can then all go quietly into the country together—if such a thing were possible, to the seaside: I hope it won’t be too late for you– I should be able to be back again certainly by the 1st August; the autumn remains. Perhaps this arrangement may be changed so far as the visit to London by circumstances mentioned this mg in a letter from Arabel & George. She goes to him in Devonshire, & both of them want me to go there—which I can hardly do: she insists, should I not agree to this, on returning to meet me—it may thus happen that my visit will take place later: in any case, it will be only for a few days at any time for the present– I can’t see friends &c and I spend a year with you: (look out for an airy two-bedrooms & sitting room in your neighbourhood, high up, and where I can get simple attendance– I shall want nothing more: I don’t mean, do this now—I shall not want it till we return from the country,—but, in your walks & among acquaintances enquire, so as to have such a place in your eye– I can always get rooms in an Hôtel provisionally. I should much like some quiet place wherein to arrange my thoughts, and attend to Pen: however it will be quite time enough to talk of this when we meet. Isa goes with me to Paris—which will be a great comfort: she is one of the warmest hearted persons I ever knew—she has been invaluable to me & Pen (who stays with her always). She throws up Florence at once after this loss. Pen is changed and so good: the loss cannot be to him what it is for me. On the other hand, he could not get the comfort out of it that I do: he will have new objects, desires &c every week & day. Well, dearest, I see that all has been for the best for her in this—in the painless end, absolute ignorance of the parting that was to be and of anxiety about, in the immunity from the sad dark days that must have followed very soon, if her health had continued to decline without this abrupt close: everything would have been miserable in that case. I have for my part, besides the consideration of this, the knowledge that my life will be easier in many important points than it might have been by never so little a variation in the circumstances of it. Pen’s being just of this age, a boy, & just the kind of boy he is, will help immensely: and, in my case, writing being the only thing I have always been used to do absolutely by myself. However I am not too sure I shall be able to do all the wise things I profess—only, I will try—and I have done some hard things already, for which I feel the better—so now, enough of me. I have had, and continue to have, extraordinary kindness shown me—people write with the deepest sympathy from England; Forster, Procter, Hedley &c[.] Here the feeling is remarkable. Yesterday Peruzzi [1] called & said he & all the Italians were hoping I should not leave Florence—& that Peni would be brought up as a Tuscan—every career would be open to him, even if he went away for a year or two—they wished that those who had been their friends in evil days might share in the coming good fortune—he said this with real emotion & I believe I should not be deceived in taking it for simple truth:—of course, the answer is, we are English and the beauty of Ba’s effort was in its being utterly disinterested and the just zeal of a stranger for right and truth: let Pen continue it. I don’t see the English Papers, nor go out except to the Villa at evenings– I hear there are great regrets, great praise,—right for those who offer them. Arabel has been much affected of course, & the brothers, she says. I have just seen Wilson (Made Romagnoli) for the first time—she repeats that she saw nothing but improvement on that last night, cheerfulness, desire to get away to Siena; she went away sure that all was well.
Truest love to Dearest Papa: I shall be able to assist you a little in devoting yourself to him now. Thank dear Milsand from my heart—his friendship remains a most precious treasure to me. I will write again & tell you exactly when I shall arrive, how, & all about it. What will be a good Hôtel near you, to arrive at? I shall however take all care of Isa, who would cut her hand off to serve Pen or myself for her sake. She had been expecting a happy summer with one of the dearest of her friends [2] who was to visit her, but she throws up every thing. God bless you, dearest Papa, dearest Sis. I sent you two (Ital) newspapers—not Athenæums—which I think I will bring.
Ever yours affectionately,
R Browning.
I shall tell Friends to write to your address for me.
Address: France. / Mademoiselle Browning, / 151. Rue de Grenelle, Faubg St Germn / Paris.
Publication: NL, pp. 134–136.
Manuscript: Lilly Library.
1. Simone Luigi Peruzzi (1792–1870).
2. Hatty Hosmer (see the fifth paragraph in letter 4896).
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