All through that summer the letters run on, daily, semi-daily. Of his work Browning writes that he shall be "prouder to begin one day,--may it be soon!--with your hand in mine from the beginning." Miss Barrett, referring to the Earl of Compton, who is reported from Rome as having achieved some prominence as a painter, proceeds to say:
"People in general would rather be Marquises than Roman artists, consulting their own wishes and inclination. I, for my part, ever since I could speak my mind and knew it, always openly and inwardly preferred the glory of those who live by their heads, to the opposite glory of those who carry other people's arms. So much for glory. Happiness goes the same way to my fancy. There is something fascinating to me in that Bohemian way of living.... All the conventions of society cut so close and thin, that the soul can see through.... Beyond, above. It is real life as you say ... whether at Rome or elsewhere. I am very glad that you like simplicity in habits of life--it has both reasonableness and sanctity.... I am glad that you--who have had temptation enough, more than enough, I am sure, in every form--have lived in the midst of this London of ours, close to the great social vortex, yet have kept so safe, and free, and calm, and pure from the besetting sins of our society."
Browning, in one letter, alluding to the prevailing stupidity of the idea that genius and domestic happiness are incompatible, says: "We will live the real answer, will we not?... A man of genius mistreats his wife; well, take away the genius,--does he so instantly improve?"
Of the attitude of his family toward their marriage he writes:
"My family all love you, dearest,--you cannot conceive my father's and mother's childlike faith in goodness--and my sister is very high-spirited, and quick of apprehension--so as to seize the true point of the case at once.... Last night I asked my father, who was absorbed over some old book, if he should not be glad to see his new daughter?--to which he, starting, replied, 'Indeed I shall'; with such a fervor as to make my mother laugh,--not abated by his adding: 'And how I should be glad of her seeing Sarianna!'"
"Shall we go to Greece, then, Robert? Let us, if you like it. When we have used a little the charm of your Italy,... I should like to see Athens with my living eyes.... Athens was in all the dreams I dreamed, before I knew you. Why should we not see Athens, and Egypt, too, and float down the mystical Nile, and stand in the shadow of the Pyramids? All of it is more possible now, than walking up the street seemed to me last year."