SD2169. Ada Shepard to Henry Clay Badger
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 25, 353–354 (in part).
[Florence]
Wednesday eve, June 9th. [1858]
Wednesday is to be a holiday for us, in which we are to go to the galleries of painting and sculpture. …
Yet the Tuscans are far better than the Romans with respect to energy and activity. They seem a more honorable, respectable race, too. Mr. Browning speaks in the highest terms of them. He greatly prefers Florence to Rome. And we know, from Aurora Leigh, how Mrs. Browning likes Florence. She told me, last evening, that she so loved Florence that it was painful to her to think of going to England again. Her little Robert (who has called himself by the strange name of Penny, which they always give him now) is nine years old and has lived here all his life. Mrs. Browning said, last evening, that he was very proud of his Italian birth, and that he sometimes said to her: “Mamma, you are a foreigner. You cannot understand Italy, as I can.” How I wish you could see this wonderful child. Of course one takes it for granted beforehand, that a child of Robert and Elizabeth Browning must be remarkable, and certainly no one could be disappointed in Penny, however high his expectations might have been. He is decidedly the most interesting-looking child I ever saw. His face is not merely beautiful; it has something more than human in its expression, something so deep and tender and high that you feel it a privilege to look upon him, but involuntarily shrink from making advances towards him as you might to common children. Mrs. Hawthorne bent over and kissed him, but I could only shake hands with him, and felt hardly worthy to do that. It seemed almost as if one of Fra Angelico’s angels had stepped down from some old picture and was moving about under this form of a child.
He looks exceedingly delicate, and has long, fair hair, parted on his forehead, like a girl’s, and hanging in waves around his head. His eyes are even more beautiful than his father’s or his mother’s, both of which are remarkably beautiful.
But I must not weary you with my talk about this angelic child. I shall surely remember that face as long as I live, if I never see it again, and I will describe it to you when I can talk with you.
The Bryants have been in Florence, for two or three days, and I have seen Mr. Bryant several times. They left, this morning, for Venice. Mr. and Miss Bryant were there last evening.
Wasn’t it almost too much, dear Clay, to see the Brownings, Mr. Bryant and Mr. Hawthorne all together?
I never saw anything … more beautiful than the look of pride and love with which Mr. B. regarded his wife, from time to time, as she moved about among her guests or sat in a group whom she made happy by her conversation. There was mingled with this pride and love an expression of anxiety, too, lest she should fatigue herself too much, so that I almost felt selfishly sorry that I am so remarkably well and strong, and shall never see that look of tender concern for my health in your dear face. … [Editors’ note: text from transcript at Yale.]
Publication: None traced.
Manuscript: Concord Free Public Library.
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