SD2784. Sarianna Browning to Joseph Milsand
Ste. Marie.
près Pornic.
Loire Inférieure.
Aug. 16th [1865] [1]
My dear Mr Milsand,
Your letter reached me yesterday the 15th and I reply to it at once, though I doubt whether I shall be able to despatch my epistle to-day. Our post-office is distant, and the weather is uncertain. What a day yesterday was! I thought of you and your excursion to Cherbourg, and could only hope you were better off than we. Here, it was a stormy, wet day. I just managed to get a bath, and was wet through going and returning. The rain came down in torrents—and the sea was tempestuous. It is unfortunate that this year the weather has been uncertain,—hitherto, we have been so much favoured by sun and air in our holiday hours—but I hope it will soon improve—at present one might fancy it was the end of Sept Robert’s love for the sea increases—he bathes every day in a small nook not far from our house where there are only about ten cabins—it is not a pleasant place for bathing, being narrow and rocky, but he prefers it because it is quiet and near. I go, and the boys also, to the principal establishment not quite half-an-hour’s walk distant, where the bathing is more to my liking than any other I have ever met with. The boys swim out to sea, even in very rough weather, followed by a boat and accompanied generally by the baigneur, though he is now of no use. I heard Pen loftily explaining to a stranger that he only took the baigneur as a friend; because he liked his company. In fact the boys are the lions of the place, and get all sorts of compliments. Pen is always very popular, being quite willing to fraternize with any bare-footed peasant who will admire his wonderful knives. He is a good boy, and really knows a great deal. I daresay he will do very well, as he really wishes to go to Oxford– Robt himself is well, and in good spirits—he says, his own powers of working increase daily to a degree he could not have believed himself capable of—he had intended to rest while here, but cannot keep idle– He is finishing his poem, writes every day, and reposes himself by reading Greek. Willy is a tall boy—the thing in which I find him most changed is that his eyebrows are grown so much darker. Mrs Bracken is rather fatter in the face than formerly. I am rather surprised that she prefers London life to Paris: finds it cheaper and more comfortable: she sends her very kind regards to you. I hope it is unnecessary to say that we should be truly delighted if you were with us. Robert would be enchanted—he who sees you so seldom—and I will say nothing of myself—but I will not urge you because it is a long way to come expressly, and you have other ties: there is no inn at Ste Marie—but I daresay a room might be found in the village.
Robert’s head must have been wandering when he spoke about the knives—he now recollects that he gave them to you. I will send with this some Pall Malls and an Ath: to be followed by many others when I can rescue them from Mrs Bracken. Can you tell me precisely which number of the Moxon selection I sent you, on the Sunday that Robt was with us in Paris. He brought me two nos & I ought to have sent them to you– I fear I only sent one—or has one been lost? In any case it ought to have been more than No. 3. We have not got them down with us. I am again on the point of forgetting the Quarterly; it is a very kind and flattering article, Robt is not quite sure by whom it is written. I will keep it till I see you—when will that be? I miss our long gossips, and feel as if I had so many things to say to you. I suppose you will go early into Burgundy this season, as they say the grapes are nearly ripe.
I hear nothing from the Corkrans, and fear all is not flourishing. I shall write—though I have not much time for writing—by the bye—I hope you will tell me if you have anything to pay for the journals. I never know what the precise weight is, and the woman at the Post Office has not the faintest idea of weighing them. I am sorry to find they are going to pull down the old church at Pornic, built on the rock,—the one containing “Gold Hair”s tomb: the people here really seem very much behind the age. I have not seen a French newspaper since I left Paris, though we are well off for English ones: you are nearer a town, and probably some rumour of what is going on in the world reaches you. How did you like Cherbourg? How did Claire like the ships and the fleet? I have no doubt you make a good instructor, and that she will make great progress. Give my love to the dear child. Did I tell you Robt brought you some ink? this bad stuff reminds me of it. Have you heard from Gurney? I ought to have called on him before I left, but some reasons prevented me. His article has been noticed in almost all our papers—so your name has gone far and wide.
Pen particularly begs me to send his love, and he hopes you will send us an account of the fleet at Cherbourg. I told him you were going there, but he seemed dreadfully put out when I told him that, to the best of my belief, you were only going to spend one day there. Why didn’t you spend a fortnight? He can’t comprehend such insensibility to naval charms. Robert’s truest love.
Ever yours,
S.B.
Address: Monsieur Milsand, / Maison Francois Meriel, / St Aubin sur Mer. / par Caen. / Calvados.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library, Joseph Milsand Archive.
1. Year provided by postmark.
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