SD2601. Sarianna Browning to Joseph Milsand
Published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 30, 351–352 (in part).
Chez M. Laraison.
Maire de Ste Marie
près Pornic.
Loire Inférieure.
Sept. 16th [1862] [1]
My dear Mr Milsand,
I am sure you feel that I sympathize with you in your domestic losses, which are not less painful because, in a measure, anticipated. How impossible to make a home of this perishable world! Men of the Gravenhorst school would, I suppose, try to persuade us that the beautiful result of losing those we love, is to make us value more dearly those who remain,—whereas the exact opposite is the case– The insecurity of what we possess embitters its sweetness. The joy of youth is caused by its virtually believing all its pleasures will last for ever: the only joy worth having is the Christian’s hope, and the only good to be found in sorrows is that God often makes use of it to bring us nearer to Himself—and even then the virtue is not in the sorrow, but in the hand that guides it. I believe afflictions, in themselves, so far from making us turn to God, make the natural heart hate Him—but you know these truths better than I do, who seem to myself precisely one of those described by the apostle as “ever learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth.” Our stay here is very pleasant on the whole: the weather has been very fine—about a fortnight ago it was cloudy and inclined [to] be showery, but the last week has been magnificent. Since we came, we have had only one wet evening, and not one completely wet day. We walk a great deal. There is a source of ferruginous water, called the Source de Préfailles, five kilos distant along the coast, and I have been there once or twice to drink the water which is strongly mixed with iron, to judge by the taste. Then the grand discovery was made by my father of the remains in perfect preservation, of a Druidical temple near Pornic, well-known to antiquarians but rather despised by the villagers. It is very curious, and Robert was so delighted that he said he would have gone twenty miles to see it. Pen is making a sketch of it, though, in general, he has not drawn much—he and Willy do little except catch fish, and push each other into the sea. The days pass away very rapidly. Robert walks and reads—and has brought his pet ducks to such a degree of tameness, that they come to the window and take food from his fingers, setting up a loud quacking when they see him, and even following him into the salon: another object of his affections is a large pig. The term for which we took this house expires on the 24th of this month—if this beautiful weather continues we shall probably stay another week, but if it breaks up there will be less to tempt us. We shall have three days’ journey before we reach Paris. Robt will stay a few days in Paris, and then return to London. We are all in a very satisfactory state of health, with very brown faces, and very good appetites. Pen is a capital swimmer, and Robt also takes a dip in the sea every morning.
I am grieved to hear that Miss Henrietta Darley is no better, as I hoped on the contrary that there was a decided amelioration. I fear this protracted indisposition will at last affect her general health,—her patience makes her state still more touching to those who know her. I know nothing of the poor Corkrans, but shall go to see them directly on my return. We all unite in best love. I sent an Ath: the other day, and will forward another in a few days. Mrs Bracken receives a daily paper from Liverpool which is a comfort to us all in this far off spot.
Always yours truly & affectionately,
S.B.
Address: Monsieur / Milsand. / Dijon. / Côte d’Or.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library, Joseph Milsand Archive.
1. Year provided by postmark.
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