SD2458. Kate Field to Cordelia Riddle Sanford
Published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 29, 289.
Florence
July 1, 1861.
Dearest Aunt,—I have been completely upset for the last three days,—the death of Mrs. Browning has unfitted me for doing anything. We have just returned from her funeral. We have seen all that is mortal of her buried in the beautiful Protestant burial-ground outside of Florence’s walls, where lies Theodore Parker. The service was according to the Episcopal form. No discourse. Her life had been a sermon; she needed no other. It was agonizing to look on Mr. Browning—he seemed as though he could hardly stand, and his face expressed the most terrible grief. The poor boy stood beside him with tears in his eyes, and when I glanced from them to the pall where their loved one’s remains lay, it seemed as though the sorrow was too much to bear. I yearned to go to Mr. Browning and weep with him that wept. The scene was made impressive in spite of the minister; it was very short, and we were hurried away by Mr. Trollope. A lovely wreath of white flowers and a laurel wreath were placed upon the coffin. The funeral was managed by a friend of the Brownings, and so managed that no one knew anything about anything. Orders were given in the greatest confusion during the three days, and up to this morning I was told that no ladies were to be at the grave. However, Mr. Browning expressed a wish that Miss Blagden should be present and all other friends that desired to; therefore at the last moment I sent word to those whom I knew would wish to attend, and in this way there were sorrowing women to mourn for a great woman. The funeral would have been meagre without them. I thought that Mr. Landor ought to have been there, and had I known that the service would have been so short would have gone for him. The Storys came up from Leghorn; young Lytton, Mr. Trollope, the Powers, and others paid the last tribute to her memory. There were very few Italians; they were invited to attend, but with their usual indifferences abstained from doing so, indifferent to one who loved Italy with her whole soul and labored for it with her whole intellect! England and America will mourn if Italy does not. Mr. Browning is almost heartbroken; last night he did nothing but rush through the house. He says that he will sell everything, settle up everything, and leave Italy forever,—only return to be buried beside his wife. He will probably go almost immediately to Paris, where his father and sisters [sic] live. God be with him! My hold upon Italy has gone. The Brownings were dear to me; she was a guiding light, and will ever remain so, wherever I may be. <***>
Text: Lilian Whiting, Kate Field: a Record (Boston, 1899), pp. 137–138.
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