5770. RB to Robert Barrett Browning
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 32, 92–93.
[Paris]
Thursday, June 14. ’66
Dearest Pen,– This morning at 8.25. dearest Nonno died. You will have been expecting this from the letter I sent yesterday. I feared the worst, you know, but might have been led to hope from the opinion of Milsand as well as the Doctor,—who said there was no sign of approaching death,—on his afternoon visit. But the loss of blood was very great, and could not be stopped: it would have overcome a man of thirty in just the same way, I think: and Nonno was simply overcome by death, in that manner,—there was no sort of weakness in any of his vital parts,—I almost wish there had been, for he suffered sadly indeed: he was, you see, twenty-four hours exactly in passing out of the world,—the beginning being that attack under which I found him labouring when I arrived at a little past eight yesterday. He was entirely conscious the whole time,—up to the very last, understanding and answering to whatever I said,—so that I was able to do little things for his relief, without fear of mistake. At night he asked to see Milsand, “just to shake hands with him”—and he said to Sarianna & me—“If we do not meet again, I hope we shall meet in Heaven.” I made Sarianna go to bed—she was worn out with sitting up the last two nights, besides the previous anxiety—and I and Made Louis kept watch: he got worse and worse,—retaining his consciousness, as I have said,—and about 2½ began to breathe with difficulty: Sarianna got up then—and it all ended about six hours after—to my infinite joy, for the suffering was terrible to see. All the time he kept up that divine gentleness and care for others that made him by far the finest gentleman I have ever known:—“Shall I fan you?” I said—“If you please, dear”—“I’m only afraid of tiring you”—and so on: this, in the very agonies of death. It is over at last, and he is with God. I am most thankful that you were not here to be distressed by the useless sight of pain you could not relieve: I persuaded Sarianna, even, not to witness the last struggle: dear Made Louis did all that was possible. Milsand came this morning of course. We expect that the Funeral will take place on Saturday, at Montmartre. I will write to you to-morrow: and you must write to me. I can’t tell you how pleased I am with your letter, and the learning that you have been so good and diligent. Sarianna bears her loss, as I expected of her goodness and sense: when anybody has been so perfect and dutiful as she always was to Nonno,—there is a comfort ever afterward. I hope to return early in the week,—and expect that I shall induce Sarianna to follow me at no great interval: but all this, when we can think of it: I will then talk about Wilson’s note.
Now, will you take the paper I enclose to Whibley [1] and bid him get it inserted in the next “Times”?– [2] Tell him to charge it to my account. God bless you, my own Pen,
RB.
Publication: LRB, pp. 95–96.
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Thomas Edward Whibley (1828–75), stationer and bookseller, with premises at 2 Westbourne Place, Paddington.
2. RB, Sr.’s death notice was published in The Times of 18 June 1866, p. 1. It read simply: “On the 14th inst., at Paris, Robert Browning, Esq., aged 84.”
___________________
