4841. EBB to Sarianna Browning
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 29, 9–11.
[Rome]
[ca. 28 February] [1861] [1]
Ever dearest Sarianna, Robert loiters in his letters, and if you saw how his time filled up, you would not wonder. Six hours a day in clay, two for Pen’s lessons—then walking to & fro’, looking into a newspaper, dining & breakfasting, & winding up the day at somebody’s house, .. much time is not left, you see, even for conjugal quarrelling about the Tuilleries—not that we are inclined much to that just now. I hope you will like his photographs. They seem to me perfect, each in its way. The side face is very poetical—almost Hamlet-looking—the other with the sweet penetrating everyday expression,—& the great head combines all. [2] After all the best portrait never approached these “representative men”. [3] They are wonderful. We shall have Peni taken later– I am very extravagant about such things, & cry “Give, give” like that famous horse-leech. [4] Not that they are better than the Paris works—I think they are not–
Robert’s modelling proceeds magnificently I hear– I dont see yet– I have not been out,—though the weather would have certainly drawn me out any other winter—but one must shut one’s eyes & leap presently– Meanwhile its a very favorable mildness to me, & the repose is grateful to the spirits of me.
Penini has been performing in some tableaux. The lady of the house, Mrs Cholmondeley, [5] wrote to beg that he might be used—she wanted the curls for scenic decoration. He went willingly enough, but came back all tears—he was expected to play Ishmael in the desert, “en petite chemise”, [6] with bare legs & feet, & arms. He would’nt, could’nt, should’nt. She persuaded him at last– His rosy cheeks had to be powdered, I hear, to make him look desert-worn—but, as to the feet, the hostess kept him in countenance by showing her own bare feet and ankles, & a good deal besides. Annunziata who went to dress Peni, told me that the “bellezza” of the ‘signora’ was “stupenda,” [7] but that she wondered at her husband permitting it to be gazed at. In fact there’s considerable scandal in Rome about this display on her part & that of other English ladies—& some of the spectators now say that if they had known what was to be seen, they would not have gone to see it.
I tell you this gossip, which Robert was laughing at yesterday, because Pen was so very innocently, on his part, mixed up with it.
Robert has made his third bust, copied from the antique, besides several hands. He breaks them all up as they are finished: it’s only matter of education. When the power of execution is achieved, he will try at something original, he says—and his head is full of ideas which are to come out in clay & marble– It wont be for this winter though. Time treads too quickly. I yearn for the poems—but he leaves that to me, for the present—& I have not it in me to do much just now. I send now & then a lyric to the Americans who pay extravagantly in spite of their misfortunes– [8] Robert observes to me & I observe to Robert at close intervals how nearly all the attention we receive is from Americans. We are bound to do them grateful honor.
You will think Robert looking very well, unless he changes before you see him (& God forbid)—& indeed you may judge by the photographs meanwhile. You know, Sarianna, how I used to forbid the moustache– I resisted as long as I could. But all artists were against me—and I suppose that the bare upper lip did not harmonize well with the beard. He keeps the hair now closer, & the beard is pointed—which gives the head a more romantic character. I dont perceive that grey hair comes out more in these photographs. On the contrary. And last spring though I caught clear sight myself in the photograph-room of various white hairs of my own, the sun was good enough to ignore them. Robert’s greyness of head-hair scarcely shows at all, observe– As to the moony whiteness of the beard, it is beautiful, I think—but then I think him all beautiful & always–
I do hope poor Mrs Bracken is resigned. [9] If she believed at last that anything could have been done, that must have been despair to her, poor thing. I never pity people so profoundly as when their misfortunes come from their faults.
Did Willie make any progress with drawing? Penini has finished both Athalie & Esther, & is now reading ‘Phedre’. [10] Much he will understand of Phedre, poor innocent– He was translating the Yankee Doodle song to Annunciata the other day, & when he got to “And kiss the girls” he said “E dare un bacio alle bambine.” [11] That’s my Pen– Give his & my embrace to the dearest Nonno & love
your ever affectionate
Ba.
Love to dear M. Milsand.
I daresay the new fashion for the hair suits you well.
Address, in RB’s hand: À Mademoiselle / Madlle Browning / 151. Rue de Grenelle / Faubg St Germain, / Paris.
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Lilly Library.
1. Approximate dating based on EBB’s account of Pen’s playing the role of Ishmael. She includes a similar account in letter 4838.
2. These photographs are reproduced in vol. 28, facing p. 304.
4. Cf. Proverbs 30:15.
6. “In a small shift.”
7. “The ‘beauty’ of the ‘lady’ was ‘wonderful’.”
8. The Independent (New York) was paying EBB one hundred dollars per poem (see letter 4657, note 9).
9. To the death of her daughter Beppa (see letter 4809, note 8).
10. All plays by Jean Racine (1639–99). For Athalie (1691) and Esther (1689), see letter 4810, note 4. Phèdre, a tragedy of extreme passions, was first performed in 1677.
11. “And kiss the girls.”
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