1888-1889
"On the earth the broken arcs; in the heaven, a perfect round."
"O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
And with God be the rest!"
"ASOLANDO"--LAST DAYS IN DEVERE GARDENS--LETTERS OF BROWNING AND
TENNYSON--VENETIAN LINGERINGS AND FRIENDS--MRS. BRONSON'S CHOICE
CIRCLE--BROWNING'S LETTERS TO MRS. BRONSON--ASOLO--"IN RUBY, EMERALD,
CHRYSOPRAS"--LAST MEETING OF BROWNING AND STORY--IN PALAZZO
REZZONICO--LAST MEETING WITH DR. CORSON--HONORED BY WESTMINSTER
ABBEY--A CROSS OF VIOLETS--CHORAL MUSIC TO MRS. BROWNING'S POEM, "THE
SLEEP"--"AND WITH GOD BE THE REST."
In the winter of 1887-1888 Mr. Browning wrote "Rosny," which follows the
"Prologue" in "Asolando," and soon after the "Beatrice Signorini" and
"Flute Music." He also completely revised his poems for the new edition
which his publishers were issuing in monthly volumes, the works completed
in July. "Parleyings," which had appeared in 1887, had, gloriously or
perilously as may be, apparently taken all the provinces of learning, if
not all the kingdoms of earth, for its own; for its themes ranged over
Philosophy, Politics, Love, and Art, as well as Alchemy, and one knows not
what; but its power and vigor reveal that there had been no fading of the
divine fire. The poet made a few minor changes in "The Inn Album," but
with that exception he agreed with his friend and publisher, that no
further alterations of any importance were required. Mr. Browning's
relations with his publishers were always harmonious and mutually
gratifying. Such a relation is, to any author, certainly not the least
among the factors of his happiness or of his power of work, and to
Browning, George Murray Smith was his highly prized friend and counselor,
as well as publisher, whose generous courtesies and admirable judgment had
more than once even served him in ways quite outside those of literature.
In the late summer of 1888 Browning and his sister fared forth for
Primiero, to join the Barrett Brownings, with whom the poet concurred in
regarding this little hill-town as one of the most beautiful of places,
his favorite Asolo always excepted. "Primiero is far more beautiful than
Gressoney, far more than Saint-Pierre de Chartreuse," he wrote to a
friend: "with the magnificence of the mountains that, morning and evening,
are literally transmuted to gold." In letters or conversation, as well as
in his verse, Browning's love of color was always in evidence. "He dazzles
us with scarlet, and crimson, and rubies, and the poppy's 'red
effrontery,'" said an English critic; "with topaz, amethyst, and the glory
of gold, and makes the sonnet ache with the luster of blue." When, in the
haunting imagery of memory pictures, after leaving Florence, he reverted
to the gardens of Isa Blagden, on Bellosguardo, the vision before him was
of "the herbs in red flower, and the butterflies on the wall under the
olive trees." For Browning was the poet of every thrill and intensity of
life--the poet and prophet of the dawn, not of the dark; the herald who
announced the force of the positive truth and ultimate greatness; never
the interpreter of the mere negations of life. The splendor of color
particularly appealed to him, thrilling every nerve; and when driving with
Mrs. Bronson in Asolo he would beg that the coachman would hasten, if
there were fear of missing the sunset pageant from the loggia of "La
Mura." In "Pippa Passes," how he painted the splendor of sunrise
pouring into her chamber, and in numberless other of his poems is this
fascination of color for him revealed.
[Illustration: PORTRAIT OF ROBERT BROWNING IN 1865.
Painted by George Frederick Watts, R.A.
In the possession of the National Portrait Gallery, London.]
Under the date of August, 1888, the poet writes to Mrs. Bronson:
DEAREST,--We have at last, only yesterday, fully determined on joining
the couple at Primiero, and, when the heats abate, going on to Venice
for a short stay. May the stay be with you as heretofore? I don't feel
as if I could go elsewhere, or do otherwise, although in case of any
arrangements having been made that stand in the way, there is the
obvious Hotel Suisse. I suppose at need there could be found a
messenger to poor Guiseppina, whose misfortunes I commiserate. You
know exactly how much and how little we want. But if I am to get any
good out of my visit I must lead the quietest of lives....
We propose setting out next Monday, the 13th,--Basle, Milan, Padua,
Treviso, Primiero, by the week's end.
I have been nearly eleven weeks in town, with an exceptional four
days' visit to Oxford; and hard social work all the time, indeed, up
to the latest, when, three weeks ago, I found it impossible to keep
going. Don't think that the kindness which sometimes oppresses me
while in town, forgets me afterward; I have pouring invitations to the
most attractive places in England, Ireland, Scotland,--but "c'est
admirable, mais ce n'est pas la paix." May I count on the "paix" where
I so much enjoyed it? I hear with delight that Edith will be with you
again,--that completes the otherwise incompleteness. Yes, the
Rezzonico is what you Americans call a "big thing."... But the
interest I take in its acquisition is different altogether from what
accompanied the earlier attempt. At most, I look on approvingly, as by
all accounts I am warranted in doing, but there an end....
... So, dearest friend, "a rivederci!" Give my love to Edith and tell
her I hope in her keeping her kindness for me, spite of the claims on
it of all the others. And my sister, not one word of her? Somehow you
must know her more thoroughly than poor, battered me, tugged at and
torn to pieces, metaphorically, by so many sympathizers, real or
pretended. She wants change, probably more than I do. And, but for
her, I believe I should continue here, with the gardens for my place
of healing. How she will enjoy the sight of you, if it may be! Tell me
what is to be hoped, or feared, or despaired of, at Pen's address,
whatever it may be. And remember me as ever most affectionately yours,
ROBERT BROWNING.
The succeeding letter, written from Albergo Gille, Primiero, tells the
story of a rather trying journey, what with the heat and his
indisposition, but on finding himself bestowed at Primiero he is
"absolutely well again," and anticipating his Venice: "what a Venice it
would be," he says, "if I went elsewhere than to the beloved friend who
calls me so kindly!" And he adds:
"My stay will be short, but sweet in every sense of the word if I find
her in good health, and in all other respects just as I left her; 'no
change' meaning what it does to me who remember her goodness so well.
It will be delightful to meet Edith again, if only it may be that she
arrives while we are yet with you, even before, perhaps.
"Can I tell you anything about my journey except that it was so
agreeable an one? On the first evening as I stepped outside our
carriage for a moment, I caught sight of a well-known face. 'Dr.
Butler, surely.' You have heard of his marriage the other day to a
learnedest of young ladies, who beat all the men last year at Greek.
He insisted on introducing me to her; I had seen her once before
without undergoing that formality and willingly I shook hands with a
sprightly young person ... pretty, and grand-daughterly, she is,
however, only twenty-six years his junior. Then, this happened; the
little train from Montebelluna to Feltre was crowded--we could find no
room except in a smoking carriage--wherein I observed a good-natured,
elderly gentleman, an Italian, I took for granted. Presently he said,
'Can I offer you an English paper?' 'What, are you English?' 'Oh, yes,
and I know you,--who are going to see your son at Primiero.' 'Why,
who can you be?' 'One who has seen you often.' 'Not surely, Mr.
Malcolm?' 'Well, nobody else.' So ensued an affectionate greeting, he
having been the guardian angel of Pen in all his chafferings about the
purchase of the palazzo. He gave me abundance of information, and
satisfied me on many points. I had been anxious to write and thank him
as he deserved, but this provided an earlier and more graceful way,
for a beginning at least.
"Pen is at work on a pretty picture, a peasant girl whom he picked up
in the neighborhood, and his literal treatment stands him in good
stead; he is reproducing her cleverly, at any rate, he takes pains
enough."
Towards the end of September they joined in Venice the "beloved friend,"
whose genius for friendship only made each sojourn with her more beautiful
than the preceding, if that which was perfect could receive an added
degree. "It was curious to see," wrote Mrs. Bronson, "how on each of his
arrivals in Venice he took up his life precisely as he had left it."
Browning and his sister frequently went on Sundays to the Waldensian
chapel, where in this autumn there was a preacher of great eloquence.
Every morning, after their early coffee, the poet was off for a brisk
walk, and after returning he busied himself with his letters and
newspapers, his mail always containing more or less letters from strangers
and admirers, some of whom solicited autographs, which, so far as
possible, he always granted. Mrs. Bronson has somewhere noted that when
asked, _viva voce_, for an autograph, he would look puzzled, and say "I
don't like to always write the same verse, but I can only remember one,"
and he would then proceed to copy "All that I know of a certain star,"
which, however it "dartles red and blue," he knew nothing of save that it
had "opened its soul" to him. Arthur Rogers, delivering the Bohlen
lectures for 1909, compared Browning with Isaiah, in his lecture on
"Poetry and Prophecy," and he instanced this "star" which "opened its
soul" to the poet, as attesting that Browning, like Isaiah, could do no
more than search depths of life.
The Palazzo Giustiniani-Recanti was a fitting haunt for a poet. Casa
Alvisi, adjoining, in which Mrs. Bronson lived, looked out, as has been
noted, on Santa Maria della Salute, which was on the opposite side of the
Grand Canal; but the Giustiniani palace, dating to the fifteenth century,
had its outlook through Gothic windows to the south, on a court and garden
of romantic loveliness. The perfect tact of their hostess left the poet
and his sister entirely free to come and go as they pleased, and at midday
they took their dejeuner together, ordering by preference Italian dishes,
as rissotto, macaroni, and fruits, especially figs and grapes. They
enjoyed these _tete-a-tete_ repasts, talking and laughing all the while,
and then, about three every afternoon they joined Mrs. Bronson and her
daughter for the gondola trip. The hostess records that the poet's
invariable response to the question as to where they should go would be:
"Anywhere, all is beautiful, only let it be toward the Lido." While both
the poet and his sister were scrupulously prompt in returning all calls of
ceremony, they were glad to evade formal visits so far as possible; and
the absolute freedom with which their hostess surrounded them was grateful
beyond words. "The thought deeply impressed me," said Mrs. Bronson, "that
one who had lifted so many souls above the mere necessity for living in a
troublesome world deserved from those permitted to approach him their best
efforts to brighten his personal life.... The little studies for his
comfort, the small cares entailed upon me during the too brief days and
weeks when his precious life was partly entrusted to my care, might seem
to count for little in an existence far removed from that of an ordinary
man; yet, as a fact, he was glad and grateful for the smallest attention.
He was appreciative of all things. He never regarded gratitude as a
burden, as less generous minds are apt to do," continued Mrs. Bronson.
[Illustration: MRS. ARTHUR BRONSON
From a painting by Ellen Montalba, in Asolo
In the possession of Editta, Contessa Rucellai (_nee_ Bronson),
Palazzo Rucellai, Florence.]
One of his greatest enjoyments in Venice was to wander with Edith Bronson
through the Venetian _calli_. "Edith is the best cicerone in the world,"
he would remark; "she knows everything and teaches me all she knows. There
never was such a guide." The young girl indeed knew her Venice as a
devotee knows his illuminated missal, and her lovely vivacity and
sweetness must have invested her presence with the same charm that is felt
to-day in the Contessa Rucellai, in her Florentine palace, for Miss
Bronson, it may be said _en passant_, became the wife of one of the most
eminent Italian nobles, the Rucellai holding peculiar claim to distinction
even among the princely houses of Florence.
From these gondola excursions they always returned about five, and
sometimes the poet would join the group around Mrs. Bronson's tea-table,
conversing with equal facility in French, German, or Italian, and to their
delight would say, "Edith, dear, you may give me a cup of tea." But as a
rule he considered this beverage as too unhygienic at that hour, and
whenever with an "Excuse me, please," he sought his own apartments, he was
never questioned for his reasons. "It was enough that he wished it," said
his hostess. He and Miss Browning always appeared promptly for dinner,
which was at half-past seven in Casa Alvisi. The poet was scrupulous about
his evening dress; and Miss Browning, Mrs. Bronson relates, was habitually
clad "in rich gowns of a somber tint, with quaint, antique jewels, and
each day with a different French cap of daintiest make."
The evenings seem to have been idyllic. Browning would often read aloud,
and he loved to improvise on an old spinnet standing in a dim recess in
one of the salons. The great Venetian families were usually in
_villeggiatura_ at the time when Browning was in Venice, so that he met
comparatively few of them; it was this freedom from social obligations
that contributed so much to the restful character of his sojourns, and
enabled him to give himself up to that ineffable enchantment of Venice. He
made a few friends, however, among Mrs. Bronson's brilliant circle, and
one of the notable figures among these was the old Russian noble and
diplomat, Prince Gagarin, who, born in Rome, had been educated in his own
country, and had represented Russia at the courts of Athens,
Constantinople, and Turin. Mrs. Bronson has told the story of one evening
when the poet and the old diplomat indulged in a mutual tournament of
music; "first one would sing, and then the other," Browning recalling
folk-songs of Russia which he had caught up in his visit to that country
fifty years before.
Another of Mrs. Bronson's inner circle, which included the Principessa
Montenegro, the mother of Queen Elena, and other notable figures, was the
Contessa Marcello, whom both the poet and his sister greatly liked; and
one radiant day they all accepted an invitation to visit the Contessa at
her villa at Mogliano, a short railway trip from Venice. The poet seemed
to much enjoy the brief journey, and at the station was the Contessa with
her landau, in which Mrs. Bronson, the poet, and his sister were seated,
while Miss Bronson rode one of the ponies on which some of the young
people had come down to greet the guests. After luncheon the Contessa,
with her young daughter, the Contessina, led their guests out in the
grounds to a pergola where coffee was served, and which commanded a vista
of a magnificent avenue of copper beeches, whose great branches met and
interlaced overhead. The Contessa was the favorite lady of honor at the
court of Queen Margherita, and she interested Mr. Browning very much by
speaking of her beloved royal mistress, and showing him some of the
handwriting of the Queen, which he thought characteristically graceful
and forcible. The Contessina and Miss Bronson, with others of the younger
people, seated themselves in rustic chairs to listen to every word from
the poet; and a Venetian sculptor, who was there, concealed himself in the
shrubbery and made a sketch of Browning. The Contessina, who, like all the
young Italian girls of high breeding and culture, kept an album of foreign
poetry, brought hers, and pleadingly asked Mr. Browning if he would write
in it for her. As usual, for the reasons already given, he (perforce)
wrote "My Star," and when the girl looked at it she exclaimed that it was
one of her old favorites, and showed him where she had already copied it
into the book.
At the station, when they drove down again to take the returning train,
one of the young _literati_ of Italy was there, and the Contessa
introduced him to Browning, saying that the young man had already achieved
distinction in letters. Mr. Browning talked with him most cordially, and
after they were on their way he said that the young writer "seemed to be a
youth of promise, and that he hoped he should meet him again." But when
they did hear of him again it was as the lecturer of a series of talks on
Zola, "which, as may be supposed," notes Mrs. Bronson, "the poet expressed
no desire to attend." The marvelous days of that unearthly loveliness of
Venice in the early autumn flew by, and Mrs. Bronson's guest returned to
DeVere Gardens. To his hostess the poet wrote, under date of DeVere
Gardens, December 15, 1888:
DEAREST FRIEND,--I may just say that and no more; for what can I say?
I shall never have your kindness out of my thoughts,--and you never
will forget me, I know. We shall please you by telling you our journey
was quite prosperous, and wonderfully fine weather, till it ended in
grim London, and its fog and cold. (At Basle there was cold, but the
sun made up for everything.) We altered our plans so far as to sleep
and to stay through a long day at Basle, visiting the museum,
cathedral, etc., and went on by night train in a sleeping-car, of
which we were the sole occupants, to Calais, directly. At Dover the
officials were prepared for us, would not look at the luggage, and
were very helpful as well as courteous; and at London orders had been
given to treat us with all possible good nature. They wouldn't let us
open any box but that where the lamp was packed; offered to take our
word for its weight, and finally asked me, "since there were the three
portions, would I accept the weight of the little vessel at bottom as
that of the other two?" "Rather," as Pen says, so they declined to
weigh the whole lamp, charging less than a quarter of what it does
weigh, and even then requiring assurance that I was "quite satisfied."
We were to be looked after first of all the passengers, and so got
away early enough to find things at home in excellent order.... I send
a hasty line to try to express the impossible,--how much I love you,
and how deeply I feel all your great kindness. Every hour of the day I
miss you, and wish I were with you and dear Edith again, in beloved
Casa Alvisi.
These letters to Mrs. Bronson reveal Browning the man as do no other
records in literature. The consciousness of being perfectly understood,
and the realization of the delicacy and beauty of the character of Mrs.
Bronson made this choice companionship one of the greatest joys in
Browning's life. It may, perhaps, as well be interpolated here that a
large package of the fascinating letters from Robert Browning to Mrs.
Bronson, from which these extracts are made, were placed at the disposal
of the writer of this volume by the generous kindness of Mrs. Bronson's
daughter, the Contessa Rucellai, and with the slight exception of a few
paragraphs used by Mrs. Bronson herself (in two charming papers that she
wrote on Browning), they have never before been drawn upon for
publication.
Under the date of January 4, 1889, the poet writes to Mrs. Bronson:
No, dearest friend, I can well believe you think of me sometimes, even
oft-times, for in what place, or hour, or hour of the day, can you
fail to be reminded of some piece of kindness done by you and received
by me during those memorable three months when you cared for me and my
sister constantly, and were so successful in your endeavor to make us
perfectly happy. Depend on it, neither I nor she move about this house
(which has got to be less familiar to us through our intimate
acquaintance with yours),--neither of us forget you for a moment, nor
are we without your name on our lips much longer, when we sit quietly
down at home of an evening, and talk over the pleasantest of pleasant
days....
The sole invitation I can but accept this morning is to the Farewell
dinner about to be given by the Lord Mayor to Mr. Phelps; that I am
bound to attend. I have not seen him or Mrs. Phelps yet; but they
receive this afternoon, and if I am able I shall go. You will wish to
know that all our articles have arrived safely, and more expeditiously
than we had expected. The tables, lanterns, etc., are very decidedly
approved of, and fit into the proper corners very comfortably; so that
everywhere will be an object reminding us, however unnecessarily, of
Venice. Your ink-stand brightens the table by my hand; the lamp will
probably stand beside it; while Tassini tempts me to dip into him
every time I pass the book-case. I may never see the loved city again,
but where in the house will not some little incident of the then
unparalleled months, wake up memories of the gondola, and the
stopping, here and there, and the fun at Morchio's; the festive return
home, behind broad-backed Luigi; then the tea, and the dinner, and
Gargarin's crusty old port flavor, and the Dyers, and Ralph Curtis,
and O, the delightful times! Of Edith I say nothing because she has
herself, the darling! written to me, the surprise and joy of that! And
I mean to have a talk with her on paper, alas! my very self, and
induce her not to let me have the last word. Oh, my two beloveds I
must see Venice again; it would be heart-breaking to believe
otherwise. Of course I entered into all your doings, the pretty things
you got, and prettier, I am sure, you gave. And I was sorry, so sorry,
to hear that naughty Edith, no darling, for half a second, now I think
of it,--did not figure in the tableaux. I hope and believe, however,
she did dance in the New Year. Bid her avoid this cold-catching and
consequent headache. Do write, dearest friend, keep me _au courant_ of
everything. No minutest of your doings but is full of interest to me
and Sarianna. But I am at the paper's extreme edge. Were it elephant
folio (is there such a size?) it would not hold all I have in my
heart, and head, too, of love for you and "our Edie;" so, simply, God
bless you, my beloveds!
ROBERT BROWNING.
Princess Montenegro sent me by way of a New Year's card,--what do you
think? A pretty photograph of the Rezzonico. The young lady was
equally mindful of Sarianna.
R. B.
To Miss Edith Bronson the poet wrote, as follows:
DEAREST EDIE,--I did not reply to your letter at once for this reason;
an immediate answer might seem to imply I expected such a delightful
surprise every day, or week, or even month; and it was wise economy to
let you know that I can go on without a second piece of kindness till
you again have such a good impulse and yield to it--by no means
binding yourself to give me regularly such a pleasure. You shall owe
me nothing, but be as generous as is consistent with justice to other
people.... I did not go out except to the complimentary farewell
dinner our Lord Mayor gave to Mr. Phelps which nobody could be excused
from attending. We all grieved at the loss, especially of Mrs. Phelps,
who endeared herself to everybody. Both of them were sorry to go from
us....
The next letter reveals anew Browning's always thoughtful courtesy in
bespeaking kindness for mutual friends, as he writes:
"There is arranged to be a sort of expedition [to Venice] of young
Toynbee Hall men, headed by Alberto Ball, the son of our common
friend, for the purpose of studying, not merely amusing, themselves
with,--the beloved city. Well as the Balls are entitled to say that
they know you, still, the young and clever Ball chooses to wish me to
beg your kind notice; and I suppose that his companions are to be
noticed also,--of what really appears to be a praiseworthy effort
after self-instruction. Will you smile on him when he calls on you?
for his father's sake, who is anxious about the scheme's success? I
have bespoken Pen's assistance, and he will do the honors of the
Rezzonico with alacrity, I have no doubt."
[Illustration: MISS EDITH BRONSON,
(NOW CONTESSA RUCELLAI)
From a Water-Color by Passini, Venice, 1883.]
In almost every life that is strongly individualized those who look back
after it has passed from visible sight cannot but recognize how rhythmic
are the sequences that have characterized its last months on earth. If the
person in question had actually known the day on which he should be called
away, he would hardly have done other than he did. It is as if the spirit
had some prescience, not realized by the ordinary consciousness, but still
controlling its conduct of the last time allotted here. With this last
year of Robert Browning's life, this unseen leading is especially obvious.
In the spring he had revised his poetic work; he had passed Commemoration
week at Oxford, as he loved to do; he had passed much of the time with his
friend, the Master of Balliol, and among his last expressions on leaving
Oxford was "Jowett knows how I love him." He was also in Cambridge, and
Edmund Gosse has charmingly recalled the way in which he dwelt,
retrospectively, on his old Italian days.
In June, also, he paid his usual visit to Lord Albemarle (the last
survivor of those who fought at Waterloo), and in that month he wrote to
Professor Knight, who was about to exchange the Chair of Philosophy at the
University of Glasgow for that of Literature at St. Andrews, saying: "It
is the right order; Philosophy first, and Poetry, which is its highest
outcome, afterward, and much harm has been done by reversing the usual
process."
The letters to Mrs. Bronson tell much of the story of these days. In one,
dated June 10, 1899, he gives this reminiscence of Asolo:
DEAREST FRIEND,--It was indeed a joy to get your letter. I know that a
change of place would be desirable for you, darling Edie told me so,
but I fancied you would not leave Venice so soon....
... One thing is certain, that if I do go to Venice, and abide at the
Rezzonico, every day during the visit I shall pass over to the beloved
Alvisi and entirely beloved friends there, who are to me in Venice
what San Marco is to the Piazza. Enough of this now, and something
about Asolo.
When I first found out Asolo, I lodged at the main hotel in the
Square,--an old, large inn of the most primitive kind. The ceiling of
my bed-room was traversed by a huge crack, or rather cleft, caused by
the earthquake last year; the sky was as blue as blue could be, and we
were all praying in the fields, expecting the town to tumble in. On
the morning after my arrival, I walked up to the Rocca; and on
returning to breakfast I mentioned it to the land-lady, wherein a
respectable middle-aged man, sitting by, said: "You have done what I,
born here, never thought of doing." I took long walks every day, and
carried away a lively recollection of the general beauty, but I did
not write a word of 'Pippa Passes'--that idea struck me when walking
in an English wood, and I made use of Italian memories.
I used to dream of seeing Asolo in the distance and making vain
attempts to reach it--repeatedly dreamed this for many a year. And
when I found myself once more in Italy, with Sarianna, I went there
straight from Venice. We found the old inn lying in ruins, a new one
(being) built, to take its place,--I suppose that which you see now.
We went to a much inferior albergo, the best then existing, and were
roughly, but pleasantly, entertained for a week, as I say. People told
me the number of inhabitants had greatly increased, and things seemed
generally more ordinary and life-like. I am happy that you like it so
much. When I got my impression, Italy was new to me....
... I shall go to Oxford for Commemoration, and stay a week for
another affair,--a "gaudy" dinner given to the magnates of Eton.
To the forthcoming collection, entitled "Asolando," the group of poems
dedicated to Mrs. Bronson, the poet alludes as follows:
... By the way the new little book of poems that was to associate your
name with mine, remains unprinted. For why? The publishers think its
announcement might panic-strike the purchasers of the new edition, who
have nearly enough of me for some time to come! Never mind. We shall
have our innings.
Bless you ever and your Edith; keep me in mind as your very own always
affectionate
R. B.
The poet's love for Asolo is revealed in the following letter to Mrs.
Bronson:
29, DEVERE GARDENS, W.
July 17,'89.
DEAREST FRIEND,--I shall delight in fancying your life at Asolo, my
very own of all Italian towns; your house built into the wall, and the
neighboring castle ruins, and the wonderful outlook; on a clear day
you can see much further than Venice. I mentioned some of the dear
spots pointed out to my faith as ruins, while what wants no faith at
all,--the green hills surrounding you, Posagno close by,--how you will
enjoy it! And do go there and get all the good out of the beautiful
place I used to dream about so often in old days, till at last I saw
it again, and the dreams stopped,--to begin, again, I trust, with a
figure there never associated with Asolo before. Shall I ever see you
there in no dream? I cannot say; I feel inclined to leave England this
next autumn that is so soon to overtake us....
Pen stays a few days longer in Paris to complete his picture. He had
declined to compete at the Exposition, but has been awarded a Medal
(3rd), which, however, enables him to dispense with the permission of
the Salon that his works shall be received. Julian Story gets also a
medal of the same class. Pen reports stupendously of the Paris
show....
... Well, you know we have been entertaining and entertained by the
Shah. I met him at Lord Roseberry's, and before dinner was presented
to him, when he asked me in French: _"Etes-vous poete?" "On s'est
permis de le dire quelquefois." "Et vous avez fait des livres?"
"Plusieurs livres?" "Trop de livres." "Voulez-vous m'en faire le
cadeau d'un de vos livres afin que je puisse me ressouvenir de vous?"
"Avec plaisir."_ Accordingly I went next day to a shop where they keep
them ready bound, and chose a brightly covered "selection."...
All the outing I have accomplished was a week at Oxford, which was a
quiet one,--Jowett's health, I fear, not allowing the usual invitation
of guests to Balliol. I had all the more of him, to my great
satisfaction.
Sarianna is quite in her ordinary health, but tired as we cannot but
be. She is away from the house, but I know how much she would have me
put in of love in what I would say for her.... Did you get a little
book by Michael Field? "Long Ago," a number of poems written to
_innestare_ what fragmentary lines and words we have left of Sappho's
poetry. I want to know particularly how they strike you.
To Tennyson for his eightieth birthday Mr. Browning writes:
To-morrow is your birthday, indeed a memorable one. Let me say I
associate myself with the universal pride of our country in your
glory, and in its hope that for many and many a year we may have your
very self among us; secure that your poetry will be a wonder and
delight to all those appointed to come after; and for my own part let
me further say, I have loved you dearly. May God bless you and yours!
I have had disastrous experience.... Admiringly and Affectionately
yours,
ROBERT BROWNING.[17]
To this letter Lord Tennyson replied:
ALDWORTH, August, 1889.
MY DEAR BROWNING,--I thank you with my whole heart and being for your
noble and affectionate letter, and with my whole heart and being I
return your friendship. To be loved and appreciated by so great and
powerful a nature as yours will be a solace to me, and lighten my dark
hours during the short time of life that is left to us.
Ever Yours,
A. TENNYSON.
The poet found himself again longing for his Italy. To Mrs. Bronson, under
date of August 8, he wrote, referring to a letter of hers received two
days before, crowned with "the magical stamp of Asolo":
"... So a fancy springs up which shall have utterance as just a fancy.
The time has come for determining on some change of place, if change
is ever to be, and, I repeat, just a fancy, if I were inclined to join
you at Asolo, say a fortnight hence, could good rooms be procurable
for Sarianna and myself? Now as you value--I won't say my love, but my
respect and esteem--understand me literally, and give me only the
precise information I want--not one half-syllable about accommodation
in your house!
"I ask because when I and Sarianna went there years ago, the old
Locanda on the Square lay in ruins, and we put up at a rougher inn in
the town's self. I dare say the principal hotel is rebuilt by this
time, or rather has grown somewhat old. Probably you are there indeed.
Just tell us exactly. Pen is trying his best to entice us his way,
which means to Primiero and Venice; but the laziness of age is
subduing me, and how I shrink from the 'middle passage,'--all that day
and night whirling from London to Basle, with the eleven or twelve
hours to Milan. Milan opens on Paradise, but the getting to Milan!
Perhaps I shall turn northward and go to Scotland after all. Still,
dear and good one, tell me what I ask. After the requisite information
you will please tell me accurately how you are, how that wicked
gad-a-bout, Edith, is, and where; and what else you can generously
afford of news,--news Venetian, I mean...."
Later the poet writes:
"... I trust that as few clouds as may be may trouble the blue of our
month at Asolo; I shall bring your book full of verses for a final
overhauling on the spot where, when I first saw it, inspiration seemed
to steam up from the very ground.
"And so Edith is (I conjecture, I hope, rightly) to be with you; won't
I show her the little ridge in the ruin where one talks to the echo to
greatest advantage."
From Milan Browning wrote to Mrs. Bronson:
DEAREST FRIEND,--It is indeed a delight to expect a meeting so soon.
Be good and mindful of how simple our tastes and wants are, and how
they have been far more than satisfied by the half of what you
provided to content them. I shall have nothing to do but to enjoy your
company, not even the little business of improving my health since
that seems perfect. I hear you do not walk as in the old days. I count
upon setting that right again. O Venezia, benedetta!
It was with greater enjoyment, apparently, than ever before even, that Mr.
Browning turned to the Asolo of his "Pippa Passes" and "Sordello." Mrs.
Bronson, in her brilliant and sympathetic picturing of the poet, speaks of
his project "to raise a tower like Pippa's near a certain property in
Asolo, where he and Miss Browning might pass at least a part of every
year." The "certain property," to which Mrs. Bronson so modestly alludes,
was her own place, "La Mura." The tower has since been erected by the
poet's son, and the dream is thus fulfilled, though the elder Browning did
not live to see it. Mrs. Bronson describes his enjoyment of nature in this
lovely little hill-town,--"the ever-changing cloud shadows on the plain,
the ranges of many-tinted mountains in the distance, and the fairy-like
outline of the blue Euganean Hills, which form in part the southern
boundary of the vast Campagna." Browning would speak of the associations
which these hills bear with the names of Shelley and Byron.
Across the deep ravine from La Mura a ruined tower was all that remained
of the villa of Queen Catarina Cornaro, who, when she lost Cyprus, retired
to Asolo; and in Browning's dedication to Mrs. Bronson of his "Asolando,"
he ascribes the title to Cardinal Bembo, the secretary of Queen Catarina.
Mr. Browning loved to recall the traditions of that poetic little court,
which for two decades was held within those walls, whose decay was fairly
hidden by the wealth of flowers that embowered them. Of his own project he
would talk, declaring that he would call it "Pippa's Tower," and that it
should be so built that from it he could see Venice every day. He
playfully described the flag-signals that should aid communication between
"Pippa's Tower" and Casa Alvisi. "A telephone is too modern," he said; and
explained that when he asked his friend to dine the flag should be
blue,--her favorite color; and if her answer was yes, her flag should be
the same color; or if no, her flag should be red. This last visit of the
poet to his city of dream and vision seemed to Mrs. Bronson one of
unalloyed pleasure. "To think that I should be here again!" he more than
once exclaimed, as if with an unconscious recognition that these weeks
were to complete the cycle of his life on earth. Asolo is thirty-four
miles from Venice, and it is within easy driving distance of Possagno, the
native place of Canova, in whose memory the town has a museum filled with
his works and casts. "Pen must see this," remarked Mr. Browning, as he
lingered over the statues and groups and tombs. Mrs. Bronson records that
one day on returning from a drive to Bassano the poet was strangely
silent, and no one spoke; finally he announced that he had written a poem
since they left Bassano. In response to an exclamation of surprise he
said: "Oh, it's all in my head, but I shall write it out presently." His
hostess asked if he would not even say what inspired it, to which he
returned:
"Well, the birds twittering in the trees suggested it. You know I don't
like women to wear those things in their bonnets." The poem in question
proved to be "The Lady and the Painter."
Mr. Browning took the greatest enjoyment in the view from Mrs. Bronson's
loggia. "Here," he would say, "we can enjoy beauty without fatigue, and be
protected from sun, wind, and rain." His hostess has related that its
charm made him often break his abstemious habit of refusing the usual five
o'clock refreshment, and that he "loved to hear the hissing urn," and when
occasionally accepting a cup of tea and a biscuit would say, "I think I am
the better for this delicious tea, after all."
Every afternoon at three they all went to drive, exploring the region in
all directions. The driving in Asolo seemed to charm him as did the
gondola excursions in Venice. "He observed everything," said Mrs. Bronson,
"hedges, trees, the fascination of the little river Musone, the great
_carri_ piled high with white and purple grapes. He removed his hat in
returning the salutation of a priest, and touched his hat in returning the
salutation of the poorest peasant, who, after the manner of the country,
lifted his own to greet the passing stranger. 'I always salute the
church,' Mr. Browning would say; 'I respect it.'"
All his life Browning was an early riser. In Asolo, as elsewhere, he began
his day with a cold bath at seven, and at eight he and his sister sat down
to their simple breakfast, their hostess keeping no such heroic hours.
Mrs. Bronson had adopted the foreign fashion of having her light breakfast
served in her room, and her mornings were given to her wide correspondence
and her own reading and study. She was a most accomplished and scholarly
woman, whose goodness of heart and charm of manner were paralleled by her
range of intellectual interests and her grasp of affairs.
After breakfasting Browning and his sister, inseparable companions always,
would start off on their wanderings over the hills. The poet was keenly
interested in searching out the points of interest of his early years in
Asolo; the "echo," the remembered views, the vista whose fascination still
remained for him. From the ruined _rocca_ that crowned the hill, the view
comprised all the violet-hued plain, stretching away to Padua, Vicenzo,
Bassano; the entire atmosphere filled with historic and poetic
associations. How the poet mirrored the panorama in his stanzas:
"How many a year, my Asolo,
Since--one step just from sea to land--
I found you, loved yet feared you so--
For natural objects seemed to stand
Palpably fire-clothed! No--"
The "lambent flame," and "Italia's rare, o'er-running beauty," enchanted
his vision.
Returning from their saunterings, the brother and sister took up their
morning reading of English and French newspapers, Italian books, with the
poet's interludes always of his beloved Greek dramatists.
In these October days the Storys arrived to visit Mrs. Bronson in her
picturesque abode. An ancient wall, mostly in ruins, with eighteen towers,
still surrounds Asolo, and partly in one of these towers, and partly in
the arch of the old portal, "La Mura" was half discovered and half
constructed. Its loggia had one wall composed entirely of sliding glass,
which could be a shelter from the storm with no obstruction of the view,
or be thrown open to all the bloom and beauty of the radiant summer. Just
across the street was the apartment in which Mrs. Bronson bestowed her
guests.
That Browning and Story should thus be brought together again for their
last meeting on earth, however undreamed of to them, prefigures itself now
as another of those mosaic-like events that combined in beauty and
loveliness to make all his last months on earth a poetic sequence. The
Storys afterward spoke of Mr. Browning as being "well, and in such force,
brilliant, and delightful as ever"; and the last words that passed between
the poet and the sculptor were these of Browning's: "We have been friends
for forty years, forty years without a break!"
On the first day of November this perfect and final visit to Asolo ended,
and yielding to the entreaties of his son, Browning and his sister bade
farewell to Mrs. Bronson and her daughter, who were soon to follow them to
Venice, where the poet and Miss Browning were to be the guests of the
Barrett Brownings in Palazzo Rezzonico.
The events of all these weeks seem divinely appointed to complete with
stately symmetry this noble life. As one of them he found in Venice his
old friend, and (as has before been said) the greatest interpreter of his
poetry, Dr. Hiram Corson. The Cornell professor was taking his University
Sabbatical year, and with Mrs. Corson had arrived in Venice just before
the poet came down from Asolo. "I called on him the next day," Dr. Corson
said of this meeting. "He seemed in his usual vigor, and expressed great
pleasure in the restorations his son was making in the palace. 'It's a
grand edifice,' he said, 'but too vast.'"
Dr. Corson continued:
"He was then engaged in reading the proofs of his 'Asolando.' He
usually walked two hours every day; went frequently in his gondola
with his sister to his beloved Lido, and one day when I walked with
him
'Where St. Mark's is, where the Doges used to wed the sea with
rings,'
I had to quicken my steps to keep pace with him. He called my
attention to an interesting feature of this world-renowned place, and
told me much of their strange history. He knew the city literally _par
coeur_."
[Illustration: PROFESSOR HIRAM CORSON
From a painting by J. Colin Forbes, R.A., in the possession of Eugene
Rollin Corson.]
Mr. Browning passed with Dr. and Mrs. Corson the last morning they were in
Venice. Of the parting Dr. Corson has since written in a personal letter
to a friend:
"He told us much about himself; about Asolo, which he had first
visited more than fifty years before, during his visit to Italy in
1838, when, as he says in the Prologue to 'Asolando,' alluding to 'the
burning bush,'
'Natural objects seemed to stand
Palpably fire-clothed.'
"A servant announcing that the gondola had come to take us to the
railway station, he rose from his chair, and said, 'Now be sure to
visit me next May, in London. You'll remember where my little house is
in De Vere Gardens'; and bidding us a cordial good-bye, with a 'God
bless you both,' he hastened away. We little thought, full of life as
he then was, that we should see him no more in this world."
To a letter from Miss Browning to their hostess, Browning added:
DEAREST MRS. BRONSON,--I am away from you in one sense, never to be
away from the thought of you, and your inexpressible kindness. I trust
you will see your way to returning soon. Venice is not herself without
you, in my eyes--I dare say this is a customary phrase, but you well
know what reason I have to use it, with a freshness as if it were
inspired for the first time. Come, bringing news of Edith, and the
doings in the house, and above all of your own health and spirits and
so rejoice
Ever your affectionate
ROBERT BROWNING.
With another letter of his sister's to their beloved friend and hostess,
Mr. Browning sent the following note,--perhaps the last lines that he ever
wrote to Mrs. Bronson, as she returned almost immediately to Casa Alvisi,
and the daily personal intercourse renewed itself to be broken only by
his illness and death. The poet wrote:
PALAZZO REZZONICO, Nov. 5th, 1889.
DEAREST FRIEND,--A word to slip into the letter of Sarianna, which I
cannot see go without a scrap of mine. (Come and see Pen and you will
easily concert things with him.) I have all confidence in his
knowledge and power.
I delight in hearing how comfortably all is proceeding with you at La
Mura. I want to say that having finished the first two volumes of
Gozzi, I brought the third with me to finish at my leisure and return
to you; and particularly I may mention that the edition is very rare
and valuable. It appears that Symmonds has just thought it worth while
to translate the work, and he was six months finding a copy to
translate from!
... I have got--since three or four days--the whole of my new volume
in type, and expect to send it back, corrected, by to-morrow at
latest. But I must continue at my work lest interruptions occur, so,
bless you and good-bye in the truest sense, dear one!
Ever Your Affectionately
ROBERT BROWNING.
The "new volume in type" to which he referred was his collection entitled
"Asolando," all of which, with the exception of one poem, had been written
within the last two years of his life.
Mr. Barrett Browning relates that while his father was reading aloud these
last proofs to himself and his wife, the poet paused over the "Epilogue,"
at the stanza--
"One who never turned his back but marched breast forward,
Never doubted clouds would break,
Never dreamed, though right were worsted, wrong would triumph,
Held we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better,
Sleep to wake."
and remarked: "It almost seems like praising myself to say this, and yet
it is true, the simple truth, and so I shall not cancel it."
November, often lovely in Venice, was singularly summer-like that year. On
one day Mr. Browning found the heat on the Lido "scarcely endurable,"
indeed, but "snow-tipped Alps" revealed themselves in the distance,
offering a strange contrast to the brilliant sunshine and the soft blue
skies. Still November is not June, after all, however perfect the
imitation of some of its days. One day there was a heavy fog on his
favorite Lido, and the poet, who refused to be deprived of his walk,
became thoroughly chilled and illness followed. The following note from
Mr. Barrett Browning to Mrs. Bronson indicates the anxiety that prevailed
in Palazzo Rezzonico, where the tenderest care of his son and
daughter-in-law ministered to the poet. The note is undated, save by the
day of the week.
PALAZZO REZZONICO,
9 o'clock, Monday Evening.
DEAREST MRS. BRONSON,--The improvement of last night is scarcely
maintained this morning,--the action of the heart being weaker at
moments. He is quite clear-headed, and is never tired of saving he
feels better, "immensely better,--I don't suppose I could get up and
walk about, in fact I know I could not, but I have no aches or
pains,--quite comfortable, could not be more so,"--this is what he
said a moment ago.
I will let you know if there is any change as the day goes on.
My love to you.
Yours, PEN.
The delightful relations that had always prevailed between the poet and
his publishers were touchingly completed when, just before he breathed his
last, came a telegram from George Murray Smith with its tidings of the
interest with which "Asolando" was being received in England. And then
this little note written on that memorable date of December 12, 1889, from
Barrett Browning to Mrs. Bronson, tells the story of the poet's entrance
on the new life.
PALAZZO REZZONICO,
10.30 P.M.
DEAREST FRIEND,--Our Beloved breathed his last as San Marco's clock
struck ten,--without pain--unconsciously.
I was able to make him happy a little before he became unconscious by
a telegram from Smith saying, "Reviews in all this day's papers most
favorable, edition nearly exhausted."
He just murmured, "How gratifying."
Those were his last intelligible words.
Yours, PEN.
In that hour how could the son and the daughter who so loved him remember
aught save the exquisite lines with which the poet had anticipated the
reunion with his "Lyric Love":
"Then a light, then thy breast,
O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again,
And with God be the rest!"
In the grand _sala_ with its floor of black Italian marble and its lofty
ceiling with exquisite fresco decoration, the simple and impressive
service was held in Palazzo Rezzonico, and a fleet of gondolas, filled
with friends and accompanied by the entire Venetian Syndic, bore the
casket to its temporary resting-place in the chapel of San Michele, in the
campo santo. The gondola that carried the casket had an angel, carved in
wood, at the prow, and a lion at the stern. Dean Bradley, on behalf of
Westminster Abbey, had telegraphed to Robert Barrett Browning, asking that
the body of the poet might be laid within those honored walls; and as the
cemetery in Florence wherein is Mrs. Browning's tomb had long been closed,
this honor from England was accepted. The same honor of a final
resting-place in Westminster Abbey was also extended for the removal of
the body of Mrs. Browning, but their son rightly felt that he must yield
to the wishes of Florence that her tomb be undisturbed, and it is
fitting that it should remain in the Italy she so loved.
[Illustration: PALAZZO REZZONICO, VENICE
Owned by Robert Browning from 1888 to 1906. In the upper room, at the
left-hand corner, the poet died.]
So associated with her brother's life was Miss Sarianna Browning that the
story would be incomplete not to add that she survived him many years,--a
gracious and beloved presence. In the January following the poet's death,
she said in a letter to Mrs. Bronson:
"I have already let a day pass without thanking you for the most
beautiful locket, which I love even more for your sake than his. I
shall always think of you, so good, so near, and so dearly loved by
him. All your watchfulness over our smallest comfort,--how he felt
it!... Bless you forever for all the joy you gave him at Asolo,--how
happy he was! And how you were entwined in all our plans for the happy
future we were to enjoy there! Think of him when you go back, as
loving the whole place, and yourself, the embodiment of its
sweetness."
Miss Browning died in her nephew's home, La Torre All' Antella, near
Florence, in the spring of 1903, in her ninetieth year.
On the facade of the Palazzo Rezzonico the City of Venice placed this
inscription to the memory of the poet:
A
ROBERTO BROWNING
MORTO IN QUESTO PALAZZO
IL 12 DICEMBRE, 1889
VENEZIA
POSE
"Open my heart and you will see
Graved inside of it,--'Italy'"
It was on the last day of 1889 that the impressive rites were held in
Westminster Abbey for Robert Browning. The Archbishop of Canterbury, the
Dean of Windsor, an aid-de-camp representing Queen Victoria, Dean Bradley,
the sub-dean, and many eminent canons, and Sir Frederick Bridge, of the
Abbey choir, all were present among the officiating clergy. The casket
under its purple pall, with a massive cross of violets, and wreaths of
lilies-of-the valley, and white roses (Mrs. Browning's favorite flower),
was followed by the honorary pall-bearers including Hallam Tennyson,
representing the Poet Laureate (whose health did not permit him to be
present), Archdeacon Farrar, the Master of Balliol (representing Oxford),
the Master of Trinity (representing Cambridge), Professor Masson
(representing the University of Edinburgh), and George Murray Smith. The
committal service was entirely choral, and Mrs. Browning's poem with its
touching refrain,
"He giveth His beloved sleep!"
was chanted by the full vested choir of the Abbey, to music composed for
the occasion by Sir Frederick Bridge. Preceding the Benediction, the
entire vast concourse of people united in singing the hymn,
"O God, our help in ages past!"
As that great assemblage turned away from the last rites in commemoration
of the poet who produced the largest body of poetry, and the most valuable
as a spiritual message, of any English poet, was there not wafted in the
air the choral strains from some unseen angelic choir, that thrilled the
venerable Abbey with celestial triumph:
"'Glory to God--to God!' he saith:
Knowledge by suffering entereth,
And Life is perfected by Death."
INDEX
Abinger, Lord, 18
"Abt Vogler," 205
"Andrea del Sarto," 152, 170
"Any Wife to Any Husband," 152
"Apprehension, An," 47
Arnold, Matthew, 112
Arnould, Joseph, friendship for Browning, 14, 39, 40, 129;
letters to Domett, 69, 94, 99, 103
Ashburton, Lady Louisa, 222
"Asolando," 5, 282, 292
"Aurora Leigh," 50, 52, 76, 127, 134, 143, 148, 158, 160, 164,
167, 171, 174-176, 210
"Balaustion's Adventure," 229
Barrett, Alfred, 16, 164
----, Arabel, 16, 50, 129, 137, 164, 202, 212
----, Edward (brother), 16, 22, 59;
death of, 18, 62, 135
----, Edward (father) legal name, 17;
marriage, 18;
character, 20, 21, 121, 164;
death, 178
----, Elizabeth. _See_ Moulton-Barrett, Elizabeth
----, George, 16, 50
----, Henrietta (Mrs. Surtees Cook), 16, 50;
marriage, 121;
affection for sister, 129;
137, 164, 192
----, Mrs. (mother), 18, 21
"Battle of Marathon," 20
"Beatrice Signorini," 237, 267
"Bells and Pomegranates," 14, 39, 67, 68
"Ben Karshook's Wisdom," 158
Berdoe, Dr., commentary on "Paracelsus," 37
"Bertha in the Lane," 46, 71
"Bishop Blougram's Apology," 205
Blagden, Isabella, friendship with Brownings, 111, 112, 178, 182,
184, 190, 191, 197, 200, 201, 207, 225;
death, 229
Blessington, Lady, 33, 113, 138
"Blot in the 'Scutcheon, A," 69
"Book of the Poets, The," 64, 206
Boyd, Hugh Stuart, tutor, 22;
letters from Elizabeth Barrett, 25, 45, 53, 55, 63, 64, 68, 73, 89
Bronson, Mrs. Arthur (Katherine DeKay), friendship with Browning, 242,
273;
letters from Browning, 243, 248, 249, 252-260, 265, 271, 272, 277-286,
291, 292;
hospitality, 242, 274-276;
entertains Browning in Asolo, 286, 287, 290;
letters from Robert Barrett Browning, 293-294;
letter from Sarianna Browning, 295
Bronson, Edith (Contessa Rucellai), 275, 280
Brooks, Rev. Dr. Phillips, 211, 212
Browning, Mrs. (mother), 4-6, 38
----, Elizabeth Barrett, birth, 16;
childhood, 17, 19;
ancestry, 17, 18;
first literary work, 20;
accident to, 21;
studies, 22;
tastes, 23, 24;
removal to Sidmouth, 24;
translation of "Prometheus Bound," 44;
removal to London, 45;
fugitive poems, 46-48, 53;
Hebrew Bible, 49;
definite periods in her life, 50;
change of residence, 54, 56;
notable friends, 58, 59;
publication of "The Seraphim," 56;
literary criticisms, 60, 61, 67, 68;
goes to Torquay, 59;
personal appearance, 58;
death of brother, 62;
returns to England, 63;
translations from Greek, 64;
description of her room, 65;
refusal to meet Browning, 65;
publication of two volumes of poems, 71;
literary reputation established, 71, 72;
first letter from Browning, 73, 74;
correspondence of poets, 74-89;
meets Browning, 80;
lyrics, 83, 84;
marriage, 87, 89;
will, 93;
lyrics, 100, 101;
mentioned for Laureateship, 121, 122;
books read by, 143;
genius for friendship, 148;
comment on dress, 151;
description of, 153, 179;
souvenir locket, 153;
views on life, 159;
appreciation of Tennyson, 166;
success of "Aurora Leigh," 174-176;
American appreciation, 187;
ill health, 193, 195;
closing days, 196;
last words, 197;
burial, 197;
tomb, 200;
tablet on Casa Guidi to her memory, 218, 264;
Tauchnitz edition of poems, 227
Browning, Reuben (uncle), 8
----, Robert (father), character and qualities, 4-6;
removal to Paris, 132;
talent for caricature, 137;
death, 210
----, Robert (grandfather), 4
----, Robert, ancestry of, 4-6;
birth, 4;
childhood and early tastes, 6-8;
first literary work, 7;
home atmosphere, 10, 11;
school, 12;
influenced by Byron and Shelley, 13, 14;
juvenile verses, 14;
publication of "Pauline," 14;
visit to Russia, 27, 28;
meets Wordsworth, Landor, Dickens, and Leigh Hunt, 30, 32;
personal appearance, 31;
writes play for Macready, 33;
visit to Venice, 35, 36;
removal to Hatcham, 38;
English friends and social life, 38-41;
hears of Elizabeth Barrett, 41;
visit to Italy, 70, 71;
return to England, 71;
correspondence of the poets, 74-89;
first meeting with Miss Barrett, 80;
marriage, 87, 89;
sees "Sonnets from the Portuguese," 109;
lyrics, 120, 121, 152;
keynote of his art, 122-125;
interpretation of Shelley, 133, 134;
Fisher's portrait of, 153;
Page's portrait of, 155;
literary standing, 172;
finds "Old Yellow Book," 181;
homage to Landor, 183;
leaves Florence forever, 200;
returns to London, 200;
takes London house, 202;
literary work, 203-207;
extension of social activities, 206, 207;
friendship with Jowett, 209;
meeting with Tennyson, 210;
death of father, 210;
Oxford conferred degree of M.A., 211;
made Honorary Fellow of Balliol College, 211;
new six-volume edition of poems, 213;
dedication to Tennyson, 213;
success of "The Ring and the Book," 214-215;
comparison of character of Pompilia to that of his wife, 219;
visits Scotland with the Storys, 221-222;
conversation and personal charm, 222-224;
with Milsand in "Red Cotton Night-cap Country," 224-226;
prepares Tauchnitz edition of Mrs. Browning's poems, 227;
friendship with Domett, 228;
relations with Tennyson, 230-232;
facility for rhyming, 231;
visit to Oxford and Cambridge, 232;
sojourn at "La Saisiaz," 233-234;
revisits Italy, 235, 239-240;
doctrine of life, 237;
Oxford conferred degree of D.C.L., 241;
son's portrait of, 242;
friendship with Mrs. Bronson, 242;
gift from Browning Societies, 243;
letters to Mrs. Bronson, 243, 248, 249, 252-260, 265, 271, 272,
277-286, 291;
Italian recognition, 245;
honored at Edinburgh, 249;
letters to Professor Masson, 249, 250;
removal to DeVere Gardens, 260;
Foreign Correspondent to Royal Academy, 266;
poet of intensity, 270;
last year in London, 281;
return to Asolo, 287-288;
last meeting with the Storys and Dr. Corson, 289-290;
death, 294;
memorial inscription, 295;
burial, 295
Browning, Robert Barrett ("Penini"), birth, 107;
anecdotes of, 126, 139, 144, 146, 147, 155;
studies of, 171, 178, 180, 185, 188, 192, 193;
love of novels, 181;
enjoyment of Siena, 184;
children's party at French Embassy, 194;
preparation for University, 202;
characteristics, 202, 265;
explanation of "The Ring and the Book," 218;
begins study of painting, 227;
picture in Royal Academy, 227;
success in art, 236, 241;
marriage to Miss Coddington, 260;
purchase of Palazzo Rezzonico, 262;
portrait of father, 217, 242;
portrait of Milsand, 263;
purchase of Casa Guidi, 265;
Florentine villa, 264-265, 267
----, Robert Jardine, 38
----, Sarianna, 4, 38;
letter from Browning, 71;
letters from Mrs. Browning, 195;
goes to live with brother, 211;
letter to Domett, 228;
travels with brother, 236;
letters to Mrs. Bronson, 248, 293;
death, 295
Brownings, The, life in Paris, 92, 93;
finances, 93;
journey to Italy, 95;
winter in Pisa, 95, 97;
home in Florence, 97;
visit to Vallombrosa, 98, 99;
apartments in Casa Guidi, 100, 101;
trip to Fano, 103, 104;
literary work, 106;
meet Story, 107;
summer at Bagni di Lucca, 107;
Florentine friends and life, 111-113, 118, 119;
visit to Siena, 125;
return to England, 129;
life and friends in Paris, 130-137;
return to England, 137;
social life in London, 137-141;
return to Casa Guidi, 142;
summer at Bagni di Lucca, 144-151;
winter in Rome, 152-157;
"Clasped Hands," 153;
pilgrimage to Albano, 156;
return to Florence, 157;
poetic work, 158;
Italian appreciation, 161;
return to London, 164;
Tennyson reads "Maud" to them, 165;
winter and social life in Paris, 167-172;
return to Florence, 176;
Florentine gayety, 176, 178;
summer in Normandy, 179;
another winter in Rome, 180;
return to Florence, 181;
summer in Siena, 184-185;
in Florence again, 185;
Roman winter, 185, 188-189;
journey to Florence, 189-190;
last summer in Siena, 191-192;
last winter in Rome, 192-193;
return to Casa Guidi, 195;
memorials in Palazzo Rezzonico, 262
"Browning Society, The," 240
Browning, William Shergold, 38
Brunton, Rev. Wm., poem, 91
"By the Fire-side," 170
Carducci, Contessa, 71
Carlyle, Thomas and Jane, 30, 38, 39, 41, 61, 68, 97, 129, 130, 131
Casa Alvisi, 242, 243, 274
"Casa Guidi Windows," 106, 115, 116
"Catarina to Camoens," 71, 83
Chaucer, project to modernize, 603
"Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came," 152, 261
"Child's Grave at Florence, A," 121
Chorley, Henry, 39, 40, 147
"Christmas Eve and Easter Day," 110, 119, 123, 124, 125
"Christopher Smart," 237
Clarke, Mary Graham. _See_ Barrett, Mrs.
"Clasped Hands, The," 153
Coddington, Fanny, 260
"Colombe's Birthday," 27, 38, 143
"Comfort," 47
"Conclusion," 72
"Confessions," 46, 83, 84
Cook, Mrs. Surtees. _See_ Barrett, Henrietta
Corson, Dr. Hiram, criticism of Browning's poetry, 29, 218;
visit to Browning, 35, 222, 244, 245-247, 290-291;
founder of Browning Society, 240-241;
letters from Browning, 247, 259;
215
Cosimo I, statue of, 114
"Cowper's Grave," 46, 57
Coxhoe Hall, 16
Cranch, Christopher Pearse, 111
Crosse, Andrew, 58, 59
"Crowned and Wedded," 46
"Cry of the Children, The," 46
"Curse for a Nation, A," 186
Curtis, George William, 118, 119
Cushman, Charlotte, 40, 141
"Dead Pan, The," 47, 68, 83
"Deaf and Dumb," 205
"Death in the Desert, A," 205, 237
"Denial, A," 84
"De Profundis," 18, 52, 136
"Development," 5
Dickens, Charles, 30, 33, 59, 61, 69
Dilke, Mr., 64
Domett, Alfred, friendship for Browning, 14, 39, 228;
Browning's letters to, 42, 43;
Arnould's letters to, 69, 94, 99, 103
Dowden, Dr. Edward, 97, 133
Dowson, Christopher, 39
"Drama of Exile, A," 46, 71-72
"Dramatic Idyls," 236
"Dramatis Personae," 203-205
"Dryope," statue of, 263
Dulwich Gallery, 11
Eastnor Castle, 22
Egerton-Smith, Miss, 233-234
Elgin, Lady, 131, 132, 167
Eliot, George, 190
"Englishman in Italy, The," 71
"Epistle of Karnish," 158
"Essay on Mind," 22
"Eurydice to Orpheus," 265
"Evelyn Hope," 120
"Face, A," 205
Faucit, Helen (Lady Martin), 70, 143
"Ferishtah's Fancies," 244
Field, Kate, Browning gives locket, 154;
visit to the Brownings, 182;
Browning's letters to, 183, 186, 208;
Mrs. Browning's letter to, 187
"Fifine," 237
"Flight of the Duchess, The," 80, 152
"Flute-Music," 267
Forster, John, criticism of "Paracelsus," 30;
friendship for Browning, 31, 32, 129;
33, 39, 69
Fox, Rev. William Johnson, 30, 140, 141
"Fra Lippo Lippi," 152, 169-170
Franceschini, tragedy of, 181
Fuller, Margaret. _See_ D'Ossoli, Marchesa
Furnivall, Dr., 240
"Futurity," 47
Garrow, Theodosia. _See_ Trollope
Giorgi, Signor, 217
"Gold Hair," 204
Gosse, Edmund, 97, 281
"Grammarian's Burial, A," 152
"Greek Christian Poets, The," 23, 65, 206
Griffin, Professor Hall, 27, 118, 134
"Guardian Angel, The," 103, 152
Gurney, Rev. Archer, 38
"Half Rome," 218
Haworth, Fanny, letter from Browning, 36;
40
Hawthorne, Nathaniel, 150, 178-179
"Hector in the Garden," 47
"Helen's Tower," 222
"Herve Riel," 211
Hillard, George Stillman, 106, 118
Hodell, Dr. Charles W., 215-216
Holmes, Dr. Oliver Wendell, 48
"Holy Cross Day," 158
Hope End, 16, 19, 22, 24
Horne, Richard Hengist, letter from Elizabeth Barrett, 19, 59;
friendship with Miss Barrett, 30, 53, 60, 61, 62, 65, 68
Hosmer, Harriet, takes cast of "Clasped Hands," 153;
excursion with Brownings, 156, 157;
letter from Browning, 168;
visits poets, 191, 194
"How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix," 35
"In a Balcony," 144, 158, 203
"In a Gondola," 36
"Inclusions," 84
"Incondita," 14, 140
"Inn Album," 232, 269
"Insufficiency," 47, 84
"In the Doorway," 207
"Isabel's Child," 46, 57
Italy, political conditions of, 105, 108, 115, 117, 121, 143, 180
"Ivan Ivanovitch," 27, 236
James, Henry, characterization of Browning, 224
"James Lee's Wife," 204, 261
Jameson, Mrs., friendship with Miss Barrett, 73, 92, 93, 94, 95,
96, 129;
letter from Browning, 108
Jerrold, Douglas, 41
Jowett, Dr., 209, 229, 281
Kemble, Mrs. Fanny, 129, 138, 153, 154, 155
Kenyon, John, 33;
meets Browning, 40;
offers an introduction to Miss Barrett, 41;
45;
visit to Rydal Mount, 56;
account of, 58, 59;
termed the "joy-giver," 65;
shows manuscript of "Dead Pan" to Browning, 68;
dedication of "Paracelsus" to, 69;
appreciation of, 74;
letters to the Brownings, 74, 97;
friendship, 112, 113, 129, 137;
dedication of "Aurora Leigh" to, 174;
death and legacy to Brownings, 176
Kingsley, Charles, 139
King Victor and King Charles, 69
Kinney, Mrs., 144, 145
"Lady and the Painter, The," 288
"Lady Geraldine's Courtship," 71, 72, 73
"Lament for Adonis," 23
Landor, Walter Savage, chirography of, 23;
meets Browning, 30;
courtesy of, 32;
meets Miss Barrett, 55, 59, 137;
quoted, 60;
intimacy with Leigh Hunt, 112, 113;
opinions, 138;
guest of Brownings, 182;
homage from Browning, 183;
guest of Storys, 183, 184, 190, 192
"La Saisiaz," 233-234
"Last Poems," 202
"La Torre all' Antella," 264, 295
"La Valliere," 33
Leighton, Sir Frederic, 200
"Les Charmettes," 238
"Lost Leader, The," 32
"Loved Once," 83, 84
Lowell, James Russell, 51, 74
"Luria," 69
Lytton, Bulwer, 33, 53, 60
----, Lord (Owen Meredith), 142;
entertains Mrs. Browning, 145-146;
visits the Brownings, 149, 150, 158
Macready, William, meeting with Browning, 30, 31;
suggests playwriting to Browning, 32;
sees "Strafford," 33;
produces "Strafford," 34;
dinner to Browning, 39;
produces "A Blot in the 'Scutcheon," 69, 70
Marcello, Contessa, 276
Martineau, Harriet, friendship with Brownings, 33, 35, 39, 60, 62, 68
Masson, Professor, Browning entertained by, 249-251
Mazzini, 13, 143
Medici, Marchesa Peruzzi di, birthday fete, 184;
reminiscences of, 188, 193;
visit to Scotland, 221;
villa of, 239;
translation of Dupre's Autobiography, 257;
Browning's letter to, 257;
Florentine palace of, 265
Medici, statue of Fernandino di, 173
"Meeting at Night," 120
"Men and Women," 106, 157, 164, 169, 172
Millais, Lady, 240
----, Sir John Everett, Browning's letter to, 227-228;
251
Milnes, Monckton (Lord Houghton), 30, 60, 61, 138;
christening party, 139
Milsand, Joseph, meeting with Browning, 134;
paper on Browning, 135;
letter from Browning, 152, 225;
friendship with Brownings, 159, 224, 225, 226;
criticism of "Aurora Leigh," 176;
death, 259;
portrait, 263
Mitford, Mary Russell, 32;
association with the Brownings, 32, 45, 55, 56, 58, 61, 65, 72;
letter from Mrs. Browning, 108, 118, 135, 136, 159;
death, 173
Mohl, Mme., 132, 167, 171
Moore, Mrs. Bloomfield, 252
Moulton-Barrett, Elizabeth (niece), 18
----. _See_ Barrett, explanation of name, 17
Nancioni, il Signor Dottore, 245
Nettleship, Mr., essays on Browning, 213
"New Spirit of the Age, The," 60, 68
Nightingale, Florence, 140
"Old Yellow Book, The," 215
"One Word More," 123, 168-169, 205
Ongaro, Dall', 194
"Only a Cure," 121
Ossoli, Marchesa d' (Margaret Fuller), 111, 112;
visits the Brownings, 118;
death, 112, 126
"Other Half Rome, The," 218
"Pacchiarotto," 232
Page, William, 152, 155, 181
Palazzo Giustiniani, 242
---- Peruzzi, 265
---- Pitti, 102, 105, 106
---- Rezzonico, 262-264, 290, 293, 295
"Paracelsus," 14, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 34, 36, 37, 39, 57, 69, 168, 237
"Parleyings," 269
"Parting at Morning," 120
Patmore, Coventry, 140
"Pauline," 12, 14, 15, 28, 34, 57, 169, 172, 267
"Penini." _See_ Browning, Robert Barrett
"Pippa Passes," 36, 65, 67, 69, 271, 286-287
Pius IX (Pio Nono), 105, 115, 117, 118, 121
Poe, Edgar Allan, 52
"Poems before Congress," 185
"Poet's Vow, The," 53, 55, 57
"Pompilia," 206, 218, 219
"Portrait, A," 18, 164
Powers, Hiram, 102, 112, 118, 142
Prince of Wales (Edward VII), 180-181
Proctor ("Barry Cornwall"), 30, 33, 40, 61, 69, 129
"Prometheus Bound," 23, 25, 44
"Proof and Disproof," 84
"Prospice," 123, 205
"Question and Answer," 84
"Rabbi Ben Ezra," 205
"Recollections of a Literary Life," 135
"Red Cotton Night-cap Country," 226, 230
"Return of the Druses, The," 69
"Rhapsody of Life's Progress, A," 47, 48, 83
"Rhyme of the Duchess May, The," 227
"Ring and the Book, The," 182, 203, 205, 214-220
Ripert-Monclar, Marquis Amedee de, 28, 38, 153
Ritchie, Lady, 153, 154, 226
Robertson, John, 35, 39
Rogers, Arthur, 273
"Romances and Lyrics," 67
"Romaunt of Margret, The," 53, 58
"Rosny," 267
Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, 139, 165, 166, 169, 174
Sand, George, 131, 136
"Saul," 120, 157
Scotti, Signor, 71
"Seraphim, The," 46, 56, 58, 110
Sharp, William, quoted, 6;
suggested origin of "Flight of the Duchess," 12;
quoted, 28;
description of Browning, 31;
43
Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 13, 133, 134
Silverthorne, Mrs., 14
"Sleep, The," 46, 83
Smith, Alexander, 151
Smith, George Murray, 247, 270, 296
"Sonnets from the Portuguese," 50, 71, 97, 108, 109, 110, 123, 168
"Sordello," 14, 27, 28, 35, 41-42, 69, 171, 207, 237
"Soul's Tragedy, A," 69
"Statue and the Bust, The," 152, 173
Stedman, Edmund Clarence, 90
Story, Edith. _See_ Medici, Marchessa Peruzzi di
----, William Wetmore and Emeline, Browning's first meeting, 107, 111;
characteristics, 118, 119;
associations with the Brownings, 148-152, 155, 184, 185, 192, 196,
197, 199, 221, 239;
entertain Landor, 183;
characterization of Hawthorne, 150;
last meeting with Browning, 289-290
"Strafford," 33, 34, 35, 57
Talfourd, Field, 39
Talfourd, Sergeant, 30, 32, 40, 60, 69
Taylor, Bayard, 129
Tennyson, Alfred, 15;
comment on "Sordello," 41;
60;
works, 56, 68;
Miss Barrett's comments on, 61, 67, 120;
becomes Laureate, 122;
letter to Mrs. Browning, 139, 140;
reads "Maud" to the poets, 165;
letters from Browning, 209, 230, 284;
friendship with Browning, 231;
dedication, 213;
regarding Browning's lines, 232
----, Frederick, 144, 158
----, Hallam, 296
"Tertium Quid," 218
Thackeray, Anne. _See_ Ritchie, Lady
Ticknor and Fields, 156
Tittle, Margaret, 4
"Toccata of Galuppi's, A," 120
Trollope, Thomas Adolphus and Theodosia, 59, 111, 112, 190, 229
"Two Poets of Croisic," 236
"Valediction, A," 84
Vallombrosa, 98, 99
Villari, Mme. Pasquale, 112
"Virgin Mary to the Child Jesus, The," 46
"Vision of Poets, A," 71
Wiedemann, Sarah Anna, 4-6
"Wine of Cyprus," 23, 86
"Woman's Last Word, A," 120
Wordsworth, William, 30, 32, 55, 56, 59, 68, 94
Zampini, Fanny (Contessa Salazar), 161
Footnotes:
[1] Letters of Robert Browning and Alfred Domett. New York: Dodd, Mead and
Co.
[2] Life of Robert Browning. London: Walter Scott, Limited.
[3] La Vie et l'oeuvre de Elizabeth Browning, par Germaine-Marie
Merlette; Licencie des lettres; Docteur de l'Universite de Paris.
[4] Red Letter Days of my Life. London: Richard Bentley and Son.
[5] "Letters of Robert Browning and Alfred Domett." New York: Dodd, Mead,
and Company.
[6] Robert Browning: Life and Letters. Boston: Houghton, Mifflin, and
Company.
[7] "La Vita e le Opere di Roberto et Elisabetta Barrett Browning. Rome:
Societa Typografico-Editrice Nazionale."
[8] William Wetmore Story and his Friends. Boston: The Houghton-Mifflin
Co.
[9] Life and Letters of Benjamin Jowett. London: John Murray.
[10] Alfred Lord Tennyson. London and New York: The Macmillan Co.
[11] Life of Phillips Brooks. New York: E. P. Dutton and Co.
[12] Records of Tennyson, Ruskin, and Browning. London: The Macmillan
Company.
[13] Life and Letters of Sir John Millais. London: Methuen and Co.
[14] What I Remember. New York: Harper and Brothers.
[15] Alfred Lord Tennyson. London and New York: The Macmillan Company.
[16] William Wetmore Story. Boston: The Houghton-Mifflin Company.
[17] Alfred Lord Tennyson. London and New York: The Macmillan Co.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Text in italics is enclosed between underscores (_italics_).
Additional spacing after some of the quotes is intentional to indicate
both the end of a quotation and the beginning of a new paragraph as
presented in the original text.
Images have been moved from the middle of a paragraph to the closest
paragraph break.
The original text includes Greek characters. For this text version these
letters have been replaced with transliterations.
The following misprints have been corrected:
"bythe" to "by the" (page 39)
"twentienth" to "twentieth" (page 142)
"Personae" corrected to "Personae" (page 203)
"to to" corrected to "to" (page 214)
"Personae" corrected to "Personae" (page 232)
"writen" corrected to "written" (page 272)
"Edinburg" corrected to "Edinburgh" (index)
"Fireside" corrected to "Fire-side" (index)
Some quotes are opened with marks but are not closed. Obvious errors
have been silently closed, while those requiring interpretation have
been left open.
Other than the corrections listed above, printer's inconsistencies in
spelling, punctuation, hyphenation, and ligature usage have been retained.