5797. RB to Isa Blagden
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 32, 120–121.
Le Croisic, Loire Inférieure.
Sept. 24. ’66. and not the 19th
Dearest Isa, this time, because I have been waiting fruitlessly for above a week the letter which I am sure is written—and I wanted so much to know about you and let you know that I did know it. You said in your last “I may not be in Florence by the 12th but will write from wherever I am.” Perhaps the letter waits me at London: anyhow, for the future I will keep to my day—and this time it was the very day—how many years ago! [1] At all events, you got my last month’s answer at Stone House. [2] The time here is drawing fast to a close: I feel a real attachment to the place—tested attachment, too, for the weather has been abominable these three full weeks,—rain and rain again. This, and the earlier report of cholera kept all visitors away, and the little peninsula was wholly our own. Miss Egerton Smith [3] arrived a month ago,—I liked her always, and as much now. She is lodged at the Bathing Establishment, where they have sometimes a hundred and fifty inmates,—and, this season, a dozen or two: these also are all but gone; and, out of the pale, ourselves and Mrs Bracken are the famous “last roses.” Pen and Willy have bathed regularly and led long days in the open air—shooting, alas! But the health is helped, if somewhat at the expense of the “morale.” We go to Guerande to-gether,—the delicious little town,—dine there at an inn “Les Guérandaises” (where two pretty sisters do the waiting[)], and return early,—generally catching a wedding-dance at some one of the intermediate villages—Saillié or Batz. Had the weather resembled that of last year at Pornic—when we had two months of golden days—the leaving all this, as we shall early next week, would have been difficult. I see Guérande—from this room—hardly farther, if at all, than Fiesole from Bellosguardo: but the sea is between, and the road goes round it, doubling the distance. I should suppose this is the last of our holidays of the kind: if Pen goes to Oxford next Michaelmas, it must be,—and he is summoned there, by the official letter: we should go somewhere and somehow, but not exactly after this careless way: so end good things! I was resolute not to return to Pornic, full of my poor dear Papa—as I never broke the habit of calling him: I wonder whether Pen will long come and kiss me, morning and night, as he now does. I don’t in the least know how he will turn out eventually: he is still, to all intents, growing,—a boy: he seems to me able to do many things for which at present he has little or no inclination,—and that inclination may arrive at any moment: but the bases of a strong and good character, on the other hand, are more than indicated,—they are laid: he is good, kind, cautious, self-respecting, and true: I ought to be satisfied with these qualities which are valuable enough. I want him to be what I think he may be: next year or two will decide perhaps if I shall be disappointed or no. Well, Isa—write to me next time—tho’ you have not forgotten me now, I well know. I wish I had seen more of you,—that rushing way of yours,—unavoidable under the circumstances of a short stay,—drives the thoughts in instead of out: I have said nothing. How did your bargain conclude? Did you get the sum you asked? It will not come out (the book) till the winter, of course. [4] Goodbye and God bless you– Sarianna and Pen send their true love with mine—ever affectionately yours
Robt Browning.
Publication: DI, pp. 246–248.
Manuscript: British Library.
1. Twenty years before, on 19 September 1846, the newly married Brownings left London for Italy.
2. The Alexander residence at Broadstairs, Kent.
3. Annie Egerton Smith (1821–77); see letter 5036, note 2.
4. Isa Blagden’s Nora and Archibald Lee was published on 23 February 1867. See the Chapman and Hall advertisement in The Athenæum of that date (no. 2052, p. 265).
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