SD2473. Annie S. Brown to Frances Davenport Perkins
Published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 29, 294–295 (in part).
Piazza Pitti, Florence
July 12th 1861.
I have received your letter my dear Mrs Perkins just long enough to read it and I hasten to give you all the information I possess with regard to the death of your friend, hoping my letter will be ready before the mail closes–
My daughter saw Mrs Browning at her own house about ten days previous to her death, she looked ill, and worn my daughter said, but did not complain of anything unusual. Three days after we heard that she had had a severe attack of bronchitis, from which she somewhat recovered, but four days before her death Dr Wilson was sent for, he was not alarmed, neither were those friends most accustomed to be about her[.] Miss Blagden and the Countess Cottrell, indeed Count C. who saw her at 10 o’clock on the night previous to her death told me that Mr Browning said to him “You see Cottrell she will rally, I have seen her just as bad many times,” but there was at the same time an expression on his face which told his friend that his words were braver than his heart—her breathing became more oppressed. She knew no one for several hours save her husband at the last she was very calm and quiet, and seemed to suffer but little, and at 4 o’clock her spirit passed from among us. I suspect there are few who have left so many to mourn them. Mr Browning was at times nearly frantic[.] Count Cottrell, Lytton & Miss Blagden were with him, not at the time of his wife’s death for he was alone, some mistake about the message which was sent to Count Cottrell and he heard of it only at 7 o’clock– Mrs Brownings death took place on the 29th of June at 4 o’clock, and she was buried on the first of July, all the ladies of her acquaintance, particularly the Americans followed to the grave, and my daughter said it was touching in the extreme to see the poor women that she had relieved, and cheered standing about in knots and clusters their eyes fixed on the poor little boy, who seemed to think only of his father– There were three magnificent wreaths one of laurel, one composed of Cape Jasmine, and another of the most fragrant white flowers, the first was lowered with her, the others were removed. The grave was prepared for two at Mr Browning’s request, or rather by his orders.
As to him, Mr Browning I mean, the light of his eyes, and the joy of his heart, has been taken from him, and at first I fear he feels himself harshly dealt with, but the time will come I have full faith to believe when he will recognize the hand which has provided him, that it is hard, Oh! how hard to feel as one should when our idols are taken from us, and this colossus of a man, in intellect and all that makes a man a colussus [sic] among his kind, how helpless, how powerless to keep this treasure, this one little ewe lamb that he has cherished in his bosom and in comparason [sic] with whom, I suspect all his fame was as nothing, one must indeed ask what is man.–
I do not think he has any plans formed for his future, his only desire seems to be to get away from Florence, he sleeps at Bellasguardo and goes to his house after breakfast where he is all the day, busy in arranging her papers, he says he shall return no more until his body is brought to be placed by her side– The little boy is very well, has had his curls cut off, and has devoted himself to his Father—the house is taken until May, by Mr Browning, the furniture, such pieces as have no particular value will be sold, such as have remain in the hands of Count Cotrell [sic] or Mr Trollope, all her ornaments Mr B has requested Countess Cottrell to take in charge until such time as he feels able to overlook and distribute them among her friends.
Now dear Mrs Perkins I think I have told you all I know with regard to Mr Brownings arrangements, up to the present time. I had not the pleasure to know Mrs Browning which I shall always regret, but my information has all been received from Count Cottrell, who manages all Mr B’s concerns for him, and who is with him some part of every day. My Son begs me to enclose with his kind regards, the notice which came out in the paper of July 1st the day on which Mrs Browning was buried– Also some of her own lines which you no doubt are familiar with, truly we may say in this case “He giveth his beloved sleep”–
My son desired me to say that he had enclosed a copy of this same notice to Miss Bruin [sic, for Bruen] through Mrs Eckley, which she has no doubt received–
We have been by no means distressed by the heat or by any insect vexations which I must confess I felt some fear of– I feel so glad that your [illegible words] is so pleasant and that the[y] have so much room to roam about; Will you give my kind regards to Mrs Bruin [sic, for Bruen] and Miss Mary– Your daughter may remember me if so, please give her my love, a kiss from yourself if you will allow me to ask the favor, will be more in the way of the comprehension of the young gentlemen of your family. Mr Perkins would be amused would be amused did he know how often he is recalled to our remembrance, by the pidgeon making a Butter boat of himself of himself not Mr Perkins– I have much more to tell you but if I retain this letter the post will have gone, and the day be lost.
I have a most kind message of love &c for youself, Mrs Bruin and your Sister from Miss McNab, from whom I hear frequently.– There seems nothing new at the Bagni[.] Mr Cook makes a great guy of himself wearing loose knee breecks, long stockings & half boots laced up in front, and a conical cap, by all accounts something one might worship without breaking any commandment.
Our news from home is bad enough. My Son had a letter yesterday from Mr Lawton, (from Newport)[.] He merely recapitulates what we have seen in the papers but cautions us emphatically against believing anything we see in the papers–
Allow me to say dear Mrs Perkins how much your letter has gratified me and to express a hope that you will give me the |likess Aubure| before very long–
believe me very sincerely your friend
Annie S. Brown
Tell Mr Perkins, as he is fond of music I wish I could give him the pleasure I am now enjoying in listening the the young Madmoiselle di Patterni, whose papa has taken the appartment occupied by Mrs Smythe I will venture to affirm that he has never heard anything like it–
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Pierpont Morgan Library.
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