SD2532. Sarianna Browning to Joseph Milsand
Published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 29, 318 (in part).
151, rue de Grenelle.
Oct. 22d [1861] [1]
My dear Mr Milsand,
Thanks for your letter—it was good of you to write if you felt out of spirits. Winter is approaching, rapidly and surely, spite of all this bright weather, and so is life’s winter too,—though for some hearts the sunshine goes out earlier than for others. We shall never feel at rest till we thoroughly realize that here we had “no abiding city”—accept life as a passing moment and we may enjoy it,—but try to make a resting place of it, and we shall find it the bitterest of deceptions. It must be so to any mind higher than a brute’s.
Robert likes his apartments: he never intends again to “keep house”, or make any fixed home for himself. If he sends Pen to a public school, he will go and reside near him. He purposes, in his old age, to return to die in his beloved Italy, there to be buried,—but never to re-visit it till then. Poor fellow! how much happier her lot has been than his!
Octavius Barrett’s poor little infant died and was buried with its mother.
I am very glad to hear that Mr Stillman is appointed consul at Rome: I expect to see him make his appearance very soon. Miss Darley and Miss Henrietta Darley called here yesterday,—the latter is looking very well, less pale than usual; she seems likely to stay in Paris some time to come.
I have not seen Mrs Bracken, though she promised to call. I am rather in her black books, I believe, for not having written to her from St Enogat. If she knew how my time was taken up she would not be angry. She has told every body—at all events, she told Mr Gurney who told me—that you ran away from Paris on purpose to avoid meeting Robert: I defended you from the charge of such cowardice, though I acknowledged that it was painful to see him.
Poor Mrs Corkran is still in the same state of painful suspense: it is wonderful how she supports it! Mary’s throat seems to me much the same, but her general health is good.
You perceive that I have very little to say– You know how glad I shall be to have you back again– I am very much alone, but walk a great deal in this beautiful weather. I see more of Miss Church than any one else: there is a quiet tenacity of attachment in her nature that is peculiar, outwardly she is singularly reserved, and I believe that even inwardly she opens to very few.
Write me a line soon—just to say, how you are– My father is in excellent health, and will be very glad to see you in Paris once more.
Always truly yours,
S. Browning.
I sent an Ath: yesterday–
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library, Joseph Milsand Archive.
1. Year provided by reference to the death of Octavius Moulton-Barrett’s infant son, Francis Altham Harry, on 9 October 1861.
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