SD2913. Sarianna Browning to Joseph Milsand
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 32, 366 (in part).
19. Warwick Crescent.
June 15th [sic, for 14] [1867] [1]
My dear Friend,
I am quite well again now, many thanks for your kind enquiries. Certainly, I have been very unwell, but I don’t believe any doctor would have done me the slightest good—it was a violent cold on the chest, which coughed itself out till all its force was gone. I drank a large quantity of sour lemonade, and had patience till it got better. What more could a college of physicians do? To-day I am strong enough for a long gossip with you– Let me begin by saying how much I miss you. I long for you to talk to: there is no one to take your place. I have seen scarcely anyone since my return. I have discharged a round of calls in return for cards left during my absence, and am always delighted that the people are usually out, so that the thing is sooner over. I make an exception, however, in the case of my friends the Nixon, or Goold, family whom I really miss, and often long for their pleasant faces and merry voices. Miss Barrett is out of town for a few days—gone down to Occy’s country house. Our Refuge is to remain in the old house—and trust to Providence for funds. We have just taken in a most lamentable case. The little child of an infamous woman who gains her living in the streets, (somewhere down in Devonshire)—she has brought up her eldest daughter to the same life of sin & shame, and says openly that the youngest shall follow the same trade—but as the wretch added that anyone might have her that liked, a gentleman, the Member for the County, I believe, took her at her word, and packed off the little child who is only six years old, to our Refuge, by the railway. Whenever you come to London I must bring you to see our children. And that reminds me that poor Pen is in great distress of mind because he does not know if you are coming to London this summer, and he is afraid of not seeing you. Could you not come over? Our own plans are very uncertain, but I suppose after Robert has been to Oxford, the light will dawn upon him. He & Pen go to-morrow morning, and will stay till Monday night. Pen is working steadily—not enthusiastically—that he never does, yet he gets on satisfactorily—in other respects he is as good a lad as can be. As for Willy, I have no patience with him: he formed in Paris a connection with some woman who plundered him of every thing she could get hold of—even, I believe, to his watch, which he said was stolen. All his stories about going every night to the theatres, dinners &c are only excuses and falsehoods to hide from his mother the way in which the money really did go. He borrowed money in all directions, and spent about thirty pounds in a fortnight: his mother found it out the other day from a correspondence he keeps up with the woman, and in her sorrow told it all to Robt who, by the bye, has been very kind and gentle with her. At her request, he wrote a letter to Willy—very severe—it was the only thing that touched the boy who was furious at Robt’s knowing all about it—he wanted to justify himself to Rob. who would not enter into any discussion, merely telling him he was going to the Devil as fast as he could. So it remains. Willy is thick-skinned, and comes & goes just as usual. His mother is weak and will never have the courage to make him smart for his misdoings. Robt says this comes of young men having no imagination, and falling into the vulgarest temptations. Willy is not fit to be trusted at Oxford where running into debt is the besetting sin of the place. I shall be glad when he & Pen are divided. Did I tell you Pen & Robert went to Ascot with the Bensons, in grand state—carriage & four with postillions—ladies on the outside (English-fashion) and the servants inside. I have this morning had letters from Me Louis & Miss Ryan. The attempted assassination of the Emperor of Russia was indeed a sad thing—but I understand it, as I understand many other crimes which I deplore. If, as he states, the assassin’s father was exiled to Siberia, his mother killed by hardships, and his sister outraged by the Russian soldiers, you can comprehend an insane desire for vengeance. I saw in the Times that Mrs Archer Gurney has another son—this is the fourth—it is really too provoking. Lytton’s young wife has just brought him a daughter—his first born is a boy. I hear that Victor Emanuel being asked if he was going to the Paris Exhibition replied ‘no—he hadn’t money for a third-class ticket’– Here is an excellent pun for you—do you know what Eve’s religious opinions were?– In Paradise she was Eve-angelical but afterwards she took to Vestments.
By the way—or rather out of it—Robert was saying the other day that he cured his eyes, which were weak in his youth, but now are strong as stones, but [sic, for by] dipping his head every morning in cold water, and holding his eyes open in the water as long as he can bear it. He told it to Miss Hosmer who cured hers by the same process, and the other day Mr Benson [sic] recommended the plan to Pen, as one which he had adopted all his life with the best results. I am going to follow it myself, though it is late in life to begin.
How much I envy you your quiet sea-side! Yet I should like you to see this house in summer, the view is really pretty, and the rooms very pleasant with their north & south aspect.
My poor father! To-day he has been dead a year—yet what a happy death in faith and hope—spite of the physical pain. Would I were with him—as safe as he is.
Let me hear from you. Give my love and Owly’s to Claire. Owly’s love to Robert is really touching. Our Ath: & Illd News are on the road.
Ever your affte
S.B.
Robt’s & Pen’s best love. Is not to-day my obligation lottery drawing day? Tell me if 197,753 comes up gros lot. I won’t accept anything short of that.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Armstrong Browning Library, Joseph Milsand Archive.
1. Day and year provided by reference to the anniversary of RB, Sr.’s death on 14 June 1866.
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