SD2385. Sarianna Browning to Joseph Milsand
Published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 28, 353–354 (in part).
151, rue de Grenelle.
Tuesday [Postmark: 29 May 1860]
My dear M. Milsand,
I began a letter to you yesterday morning and had written four pages of gossip when a series of interruptions prevented my finishing it in time for the post, so I tore it up, and adjourned my talk till to-day. The first interruption was the arrival of my new German mistress,—a young lady whom Mrs Bracken recommended, and in fact engaged too far for me to recede, but I have no doubt she will suit me very well. It was the first time in my life I had ever uttered a German sound, and I seemed to myself in a strange land. Henriette is rather disgusted with my want of taste in not preferring Miss Blackwell’s Prussian friend, whom she declares to be a remarkably handsome young man,—she often meets him at Made O’Connell’s. Next I wanted to call on Lady Augusta Bruce with a message, and she kept me longer than I intended,—and lastly, to my great pleasure, Miss Blackwell came in to dinner. Her brother is coming on Thursday, will stay here about a week, she will go back to London with him, and make her tour in Italy later in the summer. From her I heard the fullest and most authentic particulars of the marriage of Barbara Smith, of which Miss Blackwell was the original cause,—for when Mr Smith and his three daughters went to Algiers, she gave them a letter of introduction to a friend of hers resident there, and a great friendship sprang up between the parties. This lady was always expatiating to the Smiths on the Virtues and oddities of her very old friend Dr Bodichon, whom she asked leave to introduce, and whom, of course, the father said he should be happy to see. The Doctor, however, being an untamed savage, was at first reluctant to visit them, in spite of his friend’s praises of the beauty and virtues of the young ladies, but at last relented, and was persuaded into calling on them, which he did twice, when unluckily they were not at home. This enraged him so much, that he vowed he would never take the trouble again, but the persevering friend contrived an accidental meeting, of which we know the results. That is the plain history—of course, French romance always insists that an English girl throws herself at the head of the first foreigner she meets. This reminds me that I have read M. de Wailly’s new novel. Kindly intentioned, I admit it to be, and I thank him for his good will towards England, but as a whole it breaks down. I protest against his revision of an English girl, and his ignorance of English society. In what class of English families are young girls allowed to absent themselves for hours, and return home, leaning on the arm of a young man?—or to go to balls without a chaperone, or to receive visitors alone? It is perfectly absurd. He is totally unaware of the undercurrent of social opinion, so despotic with us. His heroine is a vulgar, flirting, impudent girl, whom I repudiate as a country woman. I am glad you like ‘Adam Bede’. I have read the ‘Mill on the Floss’,—very powerful, but more painful than the other, and not quite so original, I think.
I have no Saturday bulletin to issue—the weather was stormy, and my usual set stayed away. I had declined an invitation for that evening, from Lady Goring, to meet the Bishop of Ripon and Prebendary Burgess, who are just passing (or have passed) through Paris on a confirmation tour; so I missed what might have been edifying conversation of these Church dignitaries, and had nothing to counterbalance the loss. Mr Corkran and Henriette called the next evening. Alice is rather better, they say,—but a Dr Pénard, of Versailles has installed himself as her medical director, and has commenced by forbidding her to walk much. The poor child’s teeth are crumbling away like dust, in a few months not one will remain, her nails are in the same state, though that is of less importance.
I am very sorry that neither you nor your mother are as well as could be wished, but the weather is so cold and changeable that I am not surprised at your feeling it. Even I, who am not much under the influence of the weather, have a bad cough.
I have been reading Mgr de Ségur’s causeries, and ‘Mes Tentations’, and thought them remarkably weak, as well as ludicrously false. I have also re-read Miss Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, and still think it clever though not equal to Emma. Certainly women have a vocation for novel-writing, at all events. I have read too, the greater part of Miss Nightingale’s ‘Notes on Nursing’, which are very shrewd. It is rather startling, though I am afraid quite true, the way in which she asserts that only a very few have the power of observing any thing that takes place under their eyes—that doctors would do more wisely never to ask questions of friends and nurses, whose answers generally mislead,—concurrent testimony has not more weight with her,—she declares she has known thirteen well-meaning persons concur in stating that a patient went every morning to a distant chapel, who had in fact, never quitted his bed. Is it not frightful to think how little human testimony is to be relied on?
I am by no means sure that the absurd story about the spirits and my sister came from the fertile brain of Mrs Colmache, though I had two or three reasons for suspecting it.
I shall be glad to hear our Italians have left Rome,—every thing is in such a dreadfully unsettled state.
I promised Miss Blackwell not to forget to send her kindest regards to you,—she hopes to have a glimpse of you before she and her brother take their departure. Made de Charnacé is afraid she will be obliged to leave her house, and is looking out for another. I went to ask Lady Augusta if Lady Elgin’s house was to let, but it is not. Mrs Corkran seems dissatisfied with her apartment in the rue Blanche– As soon as the weather is warmer, and my cold better, I shall pay a visit to Versailles. The people we were with last year have written to ask us to come again, but I remember the noise in the yard, and my sleepless nights. My father is excellently well, & sends his best remembrance.
Ever yours,
S.B.
Address: Monsieur / Milsand / Dijon.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library, Joseph Milsand Archive.
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