At the same time his treatment in England affects him naturally—and for my part I set it down as an infamy of that public—no other word. He says he has told you some things you had not heard, and which, I acknowledge, I always try to prevent him from repeating to anyone. I wonder if he has told you besides (no, I fancy not) that an English lady of rank, an acquaintance of ours (observe that!), asked, the other day, the American Minister whether 'Robert was not an American.' The Minister answered 'Is it possible that you ask me this? Why, there is not so poor a village in the United States where they would not tell you that Robert Browning was an Englishman, and that they were very sorry he was not an American.' Very pretty of the American Minister—was it not?—and literally true besides.

I have been meditating, Sarianna, dear, whether we might not make our summer out at Fontainebleau in the picturesque part of the forest. It would be quiet, and not very dear. And we might dine together and take hands as at Havre—for we will all insist on Robert's doing the hospitality. I confess to shrinking a good deal about the noise of Paris—we might try Paris later. What do you say? The sea is so very far—it is such a journey—it looks so to me just now. And the south of France is very hot—as hot as Italy—besides making you pay greatly 'for your whistle.' Switzerland would increase both expenses and journey for everybody. Fontainebleau is said to be delicious in the summer, and if you don't mind losing your sea bathing, it might answer. Arabel wants me to go to England, but as I did not last year my heart and nerves revolt from it now. Besides, we belong to the nonno and you this summer. Arabel can and, I dare say, will join us. And Milsand? You say 'once in three years.' Not quite so, I think. In any case, it has been far worse with some of mine. All the days of the three times of meeting in fourteen years, can only be multiplied together into three weeks; and this after a life of close union! Also, it was not her fault—she had not pecuniary means. I am bitter against myself for not having gone to England for a week or two in the Havre year. I could have done it, Robert would have let me. But now, no more. It was the war the year before last, and my unsteadiness of health last year, which kept us from our usual visit to you. This time we shall come.

Only we shall avoid the Alps, coming and going, out of prudence. Then, for next winter, we return to Rome....

Why do you believe all the small gossip set in movement by the Emperor's enemies, in Paris, against his friends, as in foreign countries against himself? It's a league of lies against him and his. 'Intriguing lacqueys.' That's a sweeping phrase for all persons of distinction in France, except members of the Opposition. That men like De Morny and Walewski may speculate unduly I don't doubt, but even the 'Times' says now that these things have been probably exaggerated. I have heard great good of both these men. As to Prince Napoleon, he has spoken like a man and a prince. We are at his feet here in Italy. Tell our dear friend Milsand that I read the seventeen columns of the speech in the 'Moniteur.' Robert said 'magnificent.' I had tears in my eyes. There may have been fault in the P.'s private life—and may be still. Where is a clean man? But for the rest, he has done and spoken worthily—and what is better, we have reason to believe here that the Emperor sympathises with him wholly. Odo Russell knows the Prince—says that he is 'petillant d'esprit' and has great weight with the Emperor.

[The remainder of this letter is missing]

* * * * *

To Mrs. Martin

[Rome,] 126 Via Felice: [April 1861].

[My] very dear friends, how am I to thank [you] both? I receive the photograph with a heart running over. It is perfect. Never could a likeness be more satisfactory. It is himself. Form, expression, the whole man and soul, on which years cannot leave the least dint of a tooth. The youthfulness is extraordinary. We are all crying out against our 'black lines' (laying them all to the sun of course!) and even pretty women of our acquaintance in Rome come out with some twenty years additional on their heads, to their great dissatisfaction. But my dear Mr. Martin is my dear Mr. Martin still, unblacked, unchanged, as when I knew him in the sun long ago, when suns were content to make funny places, instead of drawing pictures! How good of dearest Mrs. Martin (it was she, I think!) to send this to me! I wish she (or he) had sent me hers besides. (How grasping some of us are!)

Then she sent me a short time since a book for my Peni, which he seized on with blazing eyes and an exclamation, 'Oh, what fun!' A work by his great author, Mayne Reid, who outshines all other authors, unless it's Robinson Crusoe, who, of course, wrote his own life. It was so very very good of you. Robert had repeatedly tried in Rome to buy a new volume of Mayne Reid for the child, and never could get one. Our drawback in Rome relates to books. We subscribe to a French library (not good) and snatch at accidental 'waifs,' and then the newspapers (which I intrigue about, and get smuggled through the courteous hands of French generals) are absorbing enough.

I had a letter from George yesterday with good news of dearest Mrs. Martin. May it be true. But I can't understand whether you have spent this winter in Devonshire or Worcestershire, or where. The thick gloom of it is over now, yet I find myself full of regrets. It's so hard to have to get out into the workday world, daylight, open air and all, and there's a duty on me to go to France, that Robert may see his father. You would pity me if you could see how I dread it. Arabel will meet me, and spend at least the summer with us, probably in the neighbourhood of Paris, and after just the first, we—even I—may be the happier. Don't tell anyone that I feel so. I should like to go into a cave for the year. Not that I haven't taken to work again, and to my old interests in politics. One doesn't quite rot in one's selfishness, after all. In fact, I think of myself as little as possible; it's the only way to bear life, to throw oneself out of the personal.

And my Italy goes on well in spite of some Neapolitan troubles, which are exaggerated, I can certify to you. Rome, according to my information as well as my instincts, approaches the crisis we desire. In respect to Venetia, we may (perhaps must) have a struggle for it, which might have been unnecessary if England had frankly accepted co-action with France, instead of doing a little liberalism and a great deal of suspicion on her own account. As it is, there's an impression in Europe that considerations about the East (to say nothing of the Ionian Islands) will be stronger than Vattel, and forbid our throwing over our 'natural ally' for the sake of our 'natural enemy.'

I am sure you must have been anxious lately on account of America. There seems to be a good deal of weakness, even on the part of Lincoln, who, if he had not the means of defending Fort Sumter and maintaining the Union, should not have spoken as he did. Not that it may not be as well to let the Southern States secede. Perhaps better so. What I feared most was that the North would compromise; and I fear still that they are not heroically strong on their legs on the moral question. I fear it much. If they can but hold up it will be noble.

We remain here (where we have had the mildest of winters) till somewhat late in May, when we go to Florence for a week or two on our way to Paris.

You see my Emperor is 'crowning the edifice';[99] it is the beginning. Sir John Bowring says that the more liberty he can give, the better he will like it. He told Sir John so.

Is it right and loyal meanwhile of Guizot and his party to oppose the Empire by upholding the enemies of Italy? I ask you. Such things I hear from Paris! Guizot corrected Keller's speech with his own hand.

May God bless you! Pen's love and gratitude. If Robert were here he would be named. Love me and think of me a little.

Your ever affectionate and grateful BA.

* * * * *

To Miss Browning

[Rome]: May 11, 1861 (postmark).

Your account of the dearest nonno was very pleasant on the whole, only, of course, you will be very careful with him. And then, dearest Sarianna, you yourself have not been well. The grippe seems to have been bitter against you. This is the time of year when it generally rages, and even Pen has had a small cough, which makes me austere about hours. In fact, the weather in the north has reverberated here, and we have paid for our mild winter by a considerable lingering of cold wind, from snow on the mountains, they say. As for me, it's much to my disadvantage in getting air and strength. I hope you are quite well again, as is Pen, and that the loved nonno is as strong as he ever was. Do you get good wine for him? The vintages are said to have suffered (which grieves me for poor dear Milsand) from the frost. We hear of travellers in snowstorms through England, where the cold has been great, and that in Paris, too, there has been snow. I do hope the opening summer will not copy the last.

Dearest Sarianna, try to find out if Fontainebleau is damp, because I was assured the other day that it was, besides being subject to intense heats. Also, will you see if there is a completed railroad to Trouville? Robert denies that sea-air ever disagrees with him (sea-bathing does), and it may be good for you and for Pen, to say nothing of Arabel, who is coming in the course of the summer. The objection is the journey, but if the railroad is there, it would not prolong the journey (in relation to Fontainebleau) more than two or three hours, if so much, would it? We ought to inquire a little beforehand. We shall get to you as early as we can. The weather is against us everywhere. We shall cut Florence quite short. By the way, we have the satisfaction of seeing a precipitation of the Tuscan funds down, down, which only makes Robert wish for more power of 'buying in,' causing the eyes of a Florentine Frescobaldi to open in wonder at so much audacity. But Robert, generally so timid in such things, has caught a flush of my rashness, and is alarmed by neither sinking funds nor rising loans. We have a strong faith in Italy—Italia fatta—particularly since that grand child, Garibaldi, has turned good again. The troubles in the Neapolitan States are exaggerated, are perilous even so, and I dare say Milsand thinks we are all going to pieces, but we shall not; there are great men here, and there will be a great nation presently. An Australian Englishman, very acute, and free from the political faults (as I see them) of England, did all he could to prepare me for failure in Italy, 'to save my heart from breaking,' as he said. And we have had drawbacks since then, yet my hope remains as strong.

The Duchesse de Grammont (French Embassy) sent us a card for Penini—'matinee d'enfants'—and he went, and was rather proud of being received under a full-length portrait of Napoleon, who is as dear as ever to him. It was a very splendid affair, quite royal. Pen wore a crimson velvet blouse, and was presented to various small Italian princes, Colonnas, Dorias, Piombinos, and had the honor of talking ponies and lessons and playing leap-frog with them. The ambassador's own boy, the little Grammont, has a pony 'tale quale' like Pen's, only superannuated rather, which gives us the advantage....

I wonder if he will confide to you his tender admiration for the young queen of Naples, whom, between you and me, he pursues, and receives in return ever so many smiles from that sad lovely face. When charged with a love affair, Pen answered gravely, that he 'did feel a kind of interest.' He told us that two days since she stood up in her carriage three times to smile at him. Something, it may be for the pony's sake; but also, Pen confessed, to an impression that his new jacket attracted! Fancy little Pen! Robert says she is very pretty, and for Pen (who makes it a point of conscience to consider the whole 'razza' of Bourbons and Papalini as 'questi infami birboni') to be so drawn, there must be a charm. After all, poor little creature, she acted heroically from her point of sight, and if the king had minded her, he would have made liberal concessions in time perhaps. The wretched queen-mother and herself were at daggers drawn from the beginning.

I hear that Jessie Mario and her husband have been taken up at Ferrara. They were only going to begin the war with Austria on their own account. Mazzini deserves what I should be sorry to inflict. He is a man without conscience. And that's no reason why Jessie and her party should use him for theirs. Mario is only the husband of his wife.

Robert has brought me home a most perfect copy of a small torso of Venus—from the Greek—in the clay. It is wonderfully done, say the learned. He says 'all his happiness lies in clay now'; that was his speech to me this morning. Not a compliment, but said so sincerely and fervently, that I could not but sympathise and wish him a life-load of clay to riot in. It's the mixture of physical and intellectual effort which makes the attraction, I imagine. Certainly he is very well and very gay.

I am happy to see that the 'North British Quarterly' has an article on him. That gives hope for England. Thackeray has turned me out of the 'Cornhill' for indecency, but did it so prettily and kindly that I, who am forgiving, sent him another poem. He says that plain words permitted on Sundays must not be spoken on Mondays in England, and also that his 'Magazine is for babes and sucklings.' (I thought it was for the volunteers.)

May God bless you, dearest Sarianna and nonno! Pen's love.

* * * * *

The incident alluded to in the last paragraph deserves fuller mention, for the credit it does to both parties concerned in it. The letters that passed between Thackeray and Mrs. Browning on the subject have been given by Mrs. Richmond Ritchie in the 'Cornhill Magazine' for July 1896, from which I am allowed to quote them. Mrs. Browning, in reply to a request from Thackeray for contributions to the then newly established 'Cornhill,' had sent him, among other poems, 'Lord Walter's Wife,'[100] of which, though the moral is unimpeachable, the subject is not absolutely virginibus puerisque. The editor, in this difficulty, wrote the following admirable letter:—

* * * * *

W.M. Thackeray to Mrs. Browning.

36 Onslow Square: April 2, 1861.

My dear, kind Mrs. Browning,—Has Browning ever had an aching tooth which must come out (I don't say Mrs. Browning, for women are much more courageous)—a tooth which must come out, and which he has kept for months and months away from the dentist? I have had such a tooth a long time, and have sate down in this chair, and never had the courage to undergo the pull.

This tooth is an allegory (I mean this one). It's your poem that you sent me months ago, and who am I to refuse the poems of Elizabeth Browning and set myself up as a judge over her? I can't tell you how often I have been going to write and have failed. You see that our Magazine is written not only for men and women but for boys, girls, infants, sucklings almost; and one of the best wives, mothers, women in the world writes some verses which I feel certain would be objected to by many of our readers. Not that the writer is not pure, and the moral most pure, chaste, and right, but there are things my squeamish public will not hear on Monday, though on Sundays they listen to them without scruple. In your poem, you know, there is an account of unlawful passion, felt by a man for a woman, and though you write pure doctrine, and real modesty, and pure ethics, I am sure our readers would make an outcry, and so I have not published this poem.

To have to say no to my betters is one of the hardest duties I have, but I'm sure we must not publish your verses, and I go down on my knees before cutting my victim's head off, and say, 'Madam, you know how I respect and regard you, Browning's wife and Penini's mother; and for what I am going to do I most humbly ask your pardon.'

My girls send their very best regards and remembrances, and I am, dear Mrs. Browning,

Always yours,

W.M. THACKERAY.

* * * * *

Mrs. Browning's answer follows.

* * * * *

To W.M. Thackeray

Rome, 126 Via Felice: April 21, [1861].

Dear Mr. Thackeray,—Pray consider the famous 'tooth' (a wise tooth!) as extracted under chloroform, and no pain suffered by anybody.

To prove that I am not sulky, I send another contribution, which may prove too much, perhaps—and, if you think so, dispose of the supererogatory virtue by burning the manuscript, as I am sure I may rely on your having done with the last.

I confess it, dear Mr. Thackeray, never was anyone turned out of a room for indecent behaviour in a more gracious and conciliatory manner! Also, I confess that from your 'Cornhill' standpoint (paterfamilias looking on) you are probably right ten times over. From mine, however, I may not be wrong, and I appeal to you as the deep man you are, whether it is not the higher mood, which on Sunday bears with the 'plain word,' so offensive on Monday, during the cheating across the counter? I am not a 'fast woman.' I don't like coarse subjects, or the coarse treatment of any subject. But I am deeply convinced that the corruption of our society requires not shut doors and windows, but light and air: and that it is exactly because pure and prosperous women choose to ignore vice, that miserable women suffer wrong by it everywhere. Has paterfamilias, with his Oriental traditions and veiled female faces, very successfully dealt with a certain class of evil? What if materfamilias, with her quick sure instincts and honest innocent eyes, do more towards their expulsion by simply looking at them and calling them by their names? See what insolence you put me up to by your kind way of naming my dignities—'Browning's wife and Penini's mother.'

And I, being vain (turn some people out of a room and you don't humble them properly), retort with—'materfamilias!'

Our friend Mr. Story has just finished a really grand statue of the 'African Sybil.' It will place him very high.

Where are you all, Annie, Minnie?—Why don't you come and see us in Rome?

My husband bids me give you his kind regards, and I shall send Pen's love with mine to your dear girls.

Most truly yours, ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

We go to Florence in the latter part of May.

* * * * *

Before leaving Florence, however, the following letter was written to Mr. Thackeray, which I quote from the same article by Mrs. Ritchie. The poem alluded to must, however, be 'The North and the South,'[101] Mrs. Browning's last poem, written with reference to Hans Andersen's visit to Rome; not 'A Musical Instrument,' as Mrs. Ritchie suggests, which had been written some time previously.

* * * * *

To W.M. Thackeray

Rome, 126 Via Felice: [May 21, 1861].

Dear Mr. Thackeray,—I hope you received my note and last poem. I hope still more earnestly that you won't think I am putting my spite against your chastening hand into a presumptuous and troublesome fluency.

But Hans Christian Andersen is here, charming us all, and not least the children. So I wrote these verses—not for 'Cornhill' this month, of course—though I send them now that they may lie over at your service (if you are so pleased) for some other month of the summer.

We go to Florence on the first of June, and lo! here is the twenty-first of May.

With love to dear Annie and Minny,

I remain, most truly yours, ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

* * * * *

To Miss I. Blagden

Rome: Saturday, [about May 1861].

Ever dearest Isa,—Now that Robert's letter is gone, I am able for shame to write. His waiting did not mean a slackness of kindness, but a tightness of entanglement in other things; and then absolutely he has got to the point of doing without reading. Nothing but clay does he care for, poor lost soul. But you will see, I hope, from what he has written (to judge by what he speaks), that he is not so lost as to be untouched by Agnes.[102]...

I send you, dear, two more translations for Dall' Ongaro. You will have given him my former message. I began that letter to him, and was interrupted; and then, considering the shortness of our time here, would not begin another. You will have explained, and will make him thoroughly understand, that in sending him a verbal and literal translation I never thought of exacting such a thing from him, but simply of letting him have the advantage of seeing the raw, naked poetry as it stands. In fact, my translation is scarcely Italian, I know very well. I mean it for English rather. Conventional and idiomatical Italian forms have been expressly avoided. I have used the Italian as a net to catch the English in for the use of an Italian poet! Let him understand.

We shall be soon in our Florence now. I am rather stronger, but so weak still that my eyes dazzle to think of it. Povera me!

Tell Dall' Ongaro that his friend M. Carl Gruen had enough of me in one visit. He never came again, though I prayed him to come. I have not been equal to receiving in the evening, and perhaps he expected an invitation. I go to bed at eight on most nights. I'm the rag of a Ba. Yet I am stronger, and look much so, it seems to me. Mr. Story is doing Robert's bust, which is likely to be a success.[103] Hatty brought us a most charming design for a fountain for Lady Marion Alford. The imagination is unfolding its wings in Hatty. She is quite of a mind to spend the summer with you at Florence or elsewhere. The Storys talk of Switzerland....

Andersen (the Dane) came to see me yesterday—kissed my hand, and seemed in a general verve for embracing. He is very earnest, very simple, very childlike. I like him. Pen says of him, 'He is not really pretty. He is rather like his own ugly duck, but his mind has developed into a swan.'

That wasn't bad of Pen, was it? He gets on with his Latin too. And, Isa, he has fastened a half-franc to his button-hole, for the sake of the beloved image, and no power on earth can persuade him out of being so ridiculous. I was base enough to say that it wouldn't please the Queen of Spain! And he responded, he 'chose her to know that he did love Napoleon'!

Isa, I send these two last poems that Dall' Ongaro may be aware of my sympathy's comprehending more sides than one of Italian experience.

We have taken no apartment yet!!!

* * * * *

To Miss Browning

Florence: June 7, 1861 [postmark].

I can't let Robert's disagreeable letter go alone, dearest Sarianna, though my word will be as heavy as a stone at the bottom of it. I am deeply sorry you should have had the vain hope of seeing Robert and Pen. As for me, I know my place; I am only good for a drag chain. But, dear, don't fancy it has been the fault of my will. In fact, I said almost too much at Rome to Robert, till he fancied I had set my selfwill on tossing myself up as a halfpenny, and coming down on the wrong side. Now, in fact, it was not at all (nearly) for Arabel that I wished to go, only I did really wish and do my best to go. He, on the other hand, before we left Rome, had made up his mind (helped by a stray physician of mine, whom he met in the street) that it would be a great risk to carry me north. He (Robert) always a little exaggerates the difficulties of travelling, and there's no denying that I have less strength than is usual to me even at the present time. I touched the line of vexing him, with my resistance to the decision, but he is so convinced that repose is necessary for me, and that the lions in the path will be all asleep by this time next year, that I yielded. Certainly he has a right to command me away from giving him unnecessary anxieties. What does vex me is that the dearest nonno should not see his Peni this year, and that you, dear, should be disappointed, on my account again. That's hard on us all. We came home into a cloud here. I can scarcely command voice or hand to name Cavour.[104] That great soul, which meditated and made Italy, has gone to the Diviner country. If tears or blood could have saved him to us, he should have had mine. I feel yet as if I could scarcely comprehend the greatness of the vacancy. A hundred Garibaldis for such a man. There is a hope that certain solutions had been prepared between him and the Emperor, and that events will slide into their grooves. May God save Italy! Dear M. Milsand had pleased me so by his appreciation, but there are great difficulties. The French press, tell him, has, on the whole, done great service, except that part of it under the influence of the ultramontane and dynastic opposition parties. And as to exaggerated statements, it is hard, even here, to get at the truth (with regard to the state of the south), and many Italian liberals have had hours of anxiety and even of despondency. English friends of ours, very candid and liberal, have gone to Naples full of hope, and returned hoping nothing—yet they are wrong, unless this bitter loss makes them right—

Your loving BA—

Robert tears me away—

* * * * *

With this letter the correspondence of Mrs. Browning, so far, at least, as it is extant or accessible, comes to an end. The journey to Paris had been abandoned, but it does not appear that there was any cause to apprehend that her life could now be reckoned only by days. Yet so it was. For the past three years, it is evident, her strength had been giving way. Attacks of physical illness weakened her, without being followed by any adequate rally; but more than all, the continuous stress and strain of mental anxiety wore her strength away. The war of 1859, the liberation of Sicily and Naples, the intense irritation of feeling in connection with English opinion of Louis Napoleon and his policy, the continual ebb and flow of rumours concerning Venetia and the Papal States, the illness and death of her sister Henrietta—all these sources of anxiety told terribly on her sensitive, emotional mind, and thereby on her enfeebled body. The fragility of her appearance had always struck strangers. So far back as 1851, Bayard Taylor remarked that 'her frame seemed to be altogether disproportionate to her soul.' Her 'fiery soul' did, indeed, with a far more literal truth than can often be the case, fret her 'puny body to decay, and o'er-informed its tenement of clay.' Her last illness—or, it may more truly be said, the last phase of that illness which had been present with her for years—was neither long nor severe; but she had no more strength left to resist it. Shortly after her return to Casa Guidi another bronchial attack developed itself, to all appearance just like many others that she had had before; but this time there was no recovery.

Of the last scene no other account need be asked or wished for than that given by Mr. Browning himself in a letter to Miss Haworth, dated July 20, 1861.[105]

My dear Friend,—I well know you feel, as you say, for her once and for me now. Isa Blagden, perfect in all kindness to me, will have told you something, perhaps, and one day I shall see you and be able to tell you myself as much as I can. The main comfort is that she suffered very little pain, none beside that ordinarily attending the simple attacks of cold and cough she was subject to, had no presentiment of the result whatever, and was consequently spared the misery of knowing she was about to leave us: she was smilingly assuring me that she was 'better,' 'quite comfortable, if I would but come to bed,' to within a few minutes of the last. I think I foreboded evil at Rome, certainly from the beginning of the week's illness, but when I reasoned about it, there was no justifying fear. She said on the last evening 'It is merely the old attack, not so severe a one as that of two years ago; there is no doubt I shall soon recover,' and we talked over plans for the summer and next year. I sent the servants away and her maid to bed, so little reason for disquietude did there seem. Through the night she slept heavily and brokenly—that was the bad sign; but then she would sit up, take her medicine, say unrepeatable things to me, and sleep again. At four o'clock there were symptoms that alarmed me; I called the maid and sent for the doctor. She smiled as I proposed to bathe her feet, 'Well, you are determined to make an exaggerated case of it!' Then came what my heart will keep till I see her again and longer—the most perfect expression of her love to me within my whole knowledge of her. Always smilingly, happily, and with a face like a girl's, and in a few minutes she died in my arms, her head on my cheek. These incidents so sustain me that I tell them to her beloved ones as their right: there was no lingering, nor acute pain, nor consciousness of separation, but God took her to Himself as you would lift a sleeping child from a dark uneasy bed into your arms and the light. Thank God! Annunziata thought, by her earnest ways with me, happy and smiling as they were, that she must have been aware of our parting's approach, but she was quite conscious, had words at command, and yet did not even speak of Peni, who was in the next room. The last word was, when I asked, 'How do you feel?' 'Beautiful.'...

So ended on earth the most perfect example of wedded happiness in the history of literature—perfect in the inner life and perfect in its poetical expression. It was on June 29, 1861, that Mrs. Browning died. She was buried at Florence, where her body rests in a sarcophagus designed by her friend and her husband's friend, Frederic Leighton, the future President of the Royal Academy. At a later date, when her husband was laid to rest in Westminster Abbey, her remains might have been transferred to England, to lie with his among the great company of English poets in which they had earned their places. But it was thought better, on the whole, to leave them undisturbed in the land and in the city which she had loved so well, and which had been her home so long. In life and in death she had been made welcome in Florence. The Italians, as her husband said, seemed to have understood her by an instinct; and upon the walls of Casa Guidi is a marble slab, placed there by the municipality of Florence, and bearing an inscription from the pen of the Italian poet, Tommaseo:—

QUI SCRISSE E MORI ELISABETTA BARRETT BROWNING CHE IN CUORE DI DONNA CONCILIAVA SCIENZA DI DOTTO E SPIRITO DI POETA E FECE DEL SUO VERSO AUREO ANELLO FRA ITALIA E INGHILTERRA. PONE QUESTA LAPIDE FIRENZE GRATA 1861.

It is with words adapted from this memorial that her husband, seven years later, closed his own great poem, praying that the 'ring,' to which he likens it, might but—

'Lie outside thine, Lyric Love, Thy rare gold ring of verse (the poet praised), Linking our England to his Italy.'

FOOTNOTES:

[77] This refers to the 'Curse for a Nation.'

[78] See note on p. 387. [Transcriber's note: Reference is to Footnote [87].]

[79] Mrs. Jameson died on March 17, 1860.

[80] The surrender to France of Savoy and Nice, which, though propounded by Napoleon to Cavour before the war, was only definitely demanded at the end of February 1860.

[81] Rome, it will be remembered, was still under Papal government.

[82] The French general appointed by the Pope in April, 1860, to command the Papal army.

[83] The Italian poet.

[84] So in the original, but probably a slip for 'goes abroad.'

[85] The Cornhill Magazine, the first number of which was published, under Thackeray's editorship, in December 1859. Mrs. Browning's poem, 'A Musical Instrument' (Poetical Works, v. 10), was published in the number for July 1860.

[86] His 'Framley Parsonage' was then appearing in the Cornhill.

[87] The championship trophy of the prize ring. The great fight between Sayers and Heenan had just taken place (April 17, 1860), and had engrossed the interest of all England, to say nothing of America.

[88] It is not clear what this can be. Browning published nothing between 1855 ('Men and Women') and 1864 ('Dramatis Personae'), and there is no long poem in the latter, unless 'A Death in the Desert' and 'Sludge the Medium' may be so described. The latter is not unlikely to have been written now, when Home's performances were rampant. His next really long poem was 'The Ring and the Book,' which certainly had not yet been begun.

[89] A novel by Miss Blagden.

[90] Garibaldi was now engaged in his Neapolitan campaign. Sicily (except Messina) had been cleared of the Neapolitan troops by the end of July, and on August 19 Garibaldi had landed in Calabria.

[91] Now in the National Portrait Gallery. A reproduction of it is given as the frontispiece to vol. v. of the Poetical Works.

[92] 'A Musical Instrument'; see p. 377, above.

[93] Gaeta, the last remaining stronghold of the Neapolitan Government, was besieged by the Italian forces from November to January. During the first two months of the siege the French fleet prevented the Italians from operating against it by sea, and it was ultimately through the intervention of the English Government that Napoleon was persuaded to withdraw his ships.

[94] Viterbo had declared for the Italian government, but had been occupied by French troops on behalf of the Pope. Many of the inhabitants left it, and a body of Italian volunteers entered the country in support of them. It is presumably to this movement that the passage in the text refers.

[95] Poetical Works, v. 3. The poem evidently refers to the loss of her brother Edward, but might be supposed (being published at this moment) to refer to the death of her sister Henrietta, shortly after which this letter was evidently written.

[96] Gaeta fell on January 15, 1861.

[97] Mr. Val Prinsep, R.A.

[98] Mrs. Orr's Life shows that this was only a temporary phase. In later life, especially, he was very regular in his hours of poetical work.

[99] It is curious that these are the very words which (as a translation from the Greek) Robert Browning used ten years later as the motto of his study of Louis Napoleon in 'Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau'; but the 'crowning' was of a very different kind then.

'Attempting one more labour, in a trice, Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.'

[100] Poetical Works, iv. 252.

[101] Poetical Works, v. 6

[102] 'Agnes Tremorne,' Miss Blagden's novel.

[103] After Mrs. Browning's death, Mr. Story made a companion bust of her, and both busts were subsequently executed in marble on the commission of Mr. George Barrett, who presented them to Mr. R. Barrett Browning, in whose possession they have since remained.

[104] Cavour died on June 6, 1861.

[105] Mrs. Orr's Life and Letters of Robert Browning, p. 249.



INDEX

Abd-el-Kader, i. 388

Aberdeen, Lord, ii. 109

About, E., ii. 226

AEschylus, i. 118, 168, 210; Translation of his 'Prometheus Bound,' i. 244

Agassiz, Miss, i. 458, 467, 468

Alexander, Sir William, i, 106

America, literary piracy in, i. 451; appreciation of Mrs. Browning's poetry, i. 118, 120, 131, 177, 178, 218, ii. 253, 364, 387; of Robert Browning, ii. 436; the slavery question, ii. 111, 411, 417, 419, 439

Anacreon, translation from, i. 263

Ancona, i. 381

Andersen, Hans Christian, ii. 446, 448

Andrea del Sarto, i. 121

Appleton, Mr., ii. 133

Apuleius, translations from, i. 249, 250

Arnold, Dr. Thomas, i. 206, 207

Arnold, Matthew, i. 429

Arnould, Mr., ii. 16

Arqua, ii. 9

'Athenaeum,' the, i. 37, 64, 69, 71, 91, 93, 95, 117, 120, 133, 180, 193, 207, 227, 256, 446, 469, ii. 171, 242, 243, 334, 366

'Atlas,' the, i. 64, 69, 181, 194, 199, ii. 370

Austen, Jane, ii. 217

Austria, war with France and Italy, ii. 305 ff.

Azeglio, Massimo d', ii. 308, 312, 389

Baillie, Joanna, i. 230

Balzac, H. de, i. 319, 363, 375, 428, 442, 462, ii. 71

Barnes, William, i. 223

Barrett, Alfred, brother of E.B.B., i. 2, 20, 121, ii. 18; marriage, ii. 207

Barrett, Arabel, sister of E.B.B., i. 2, 10, 19, 20, 39, 52, 70, 71, 76, 77, 81, 82, 124, 242, 270, 294, ii. 12, 18, 172, 180, 210, 235, 237, 264, 292

Barrett, Charles John ('Stormie'), brother of E.B.B., i. 2, 29, 86, 121, 151, 152, 189, 242, 251

Barrett, Edward ('Bro'), brother of E.B.B., i. 2, 11, 14, 29, 42, 47, 53, 55, 74, 76, 77; his death, 83

Barrett, Edward Moulton, father of E.B.B., i. 1, 2, 11, 27, 76, 82, 86, 179, 291, 407, 435, 438, 439, ii. 18, 20, 178, 180, 237; death, 263 ff.

Barrett, afterwards Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, birth, i. 1; childhood and youth at Hope End, 3-6; removal to Sidmouth, 10; to London (74 Gloucester Place), 31; failure of health, ib.; removal to 50 Wimpole Street, 56; publication of 'The Seraphim,' ib. 63; breaking of a blood-vessel, ib.; removal to Torquay, 74; death of her brother Edward, 83; return to London, 91; publication of the 'Poems' of 1844, 180-188, 193 ff.; proposed journey to Italy in 1845, 266 ff.; love and marriage, 280 ff.; departure from England, ib.; at Pisa, 302 ff.; Florence, 325; expedition to Vallombrosa, 332 ff.; settlement at Casa Guidi, 365, 372; birth of a son, 395; her name suggested for the Laureateship, 449, 452; illness, 456, 458; travels, ii. 1 ff.; publication of 'Casa Guidi Windows,' 2; visit to England, 13 ff.; residence in Paris, 22 ff.; the Coup d'etat in France, 30 ff.; second visit to London, 76; verses by, 81; return to Paris, 89; to Florence, 91; first visit to Rome, 146; severe illness, 202; visit to England, 205 ff.; to Paris, 215 ff.; last visit to England, 235 ff.; publication of 'Aurora Leigh,' 240; carnival in Florence, 256 ff.; visit to Bagni di Lucca, 267 ff.; last visit to France, 280 ff.; winter in Rome, 292 ff.; the war with Austria, 305 ff.; summer at Siena, 319 ff.; severe illness, 325; winter in Rome, 352 ff.; publication of 'Poems before Congress,' 363; last summer at Siena, 400; last winter in Rome, 408 ff.; death, 450 ff. Portraits: by Reade, ii. 144; by Miss Fox, ii. 151; by Leighton, ii. 310; by Field Talfourd, ii. 404; bust by Story, ii. 448 note. Her knowledge of Greek literature, i. 101, 102, 242; opinions on religion, i. 115, 127, 159, 247, ii. 156, 420 ff.; on Roman Catholicism, ii. 5; on versification, i. 140, 156, 183; on female poets, i. 229-233; on Greek scholarship, i. 260; on mesmerism, i. 255-259; on marriage, i. 339, ii. 72, 73, 222 ff.; on communism, i. 363; on socialism, i. 467; protest against publication of juvenile performances, i. 454, 455, ii. 139; views on spiritualism, ii. 92, 104, 117, 125, 157 ff. (and see s.v.); on women's work and position, ii. 189, 254, 255; on poetry and the public, ii. 200; on slavery, ii. 220; on growing old, ii. 140; on death, ii. 177, 289, 291; on English self-satisfaction, ii. 351. Works: 'Aurora Leigh,' ii. 91, 195, 205, 228, 229, 240 ff., 302; 'Battle of Marathon,' i. 3, 5; 'Bertha in the Lane,' i. 247; 'Casa Guidi Windows,' i. 348, ii. 1-3, 5, 7, 12, 13; 'Catarina to Camoens,' ii. 200; 'Chaucer Modernised,' i. 84, 88; 'Child's Death at Florence,' i. 437; 'Crowned and Buried,' i. 82, 161, 222; 'Cry of the Children,' i. 153, 156; 'Cry of the Human,' i. 120, 125; 'Curse for a Nation,' ii. 364, 366, 378 ff.; 'Dead Pan,' i. 109, 127-131, 136, 177; 'De Profundis,' ii. 414; 'Drama of Exile,' i. 164, 168, 170, 171, 177, 181, 185, 186; 'English Poets,' i. 97, 105-107; 'Essay on Mind,' i. 4, 5, 70, 94, 187; 'Flush,' i. 153; 'Greek Christian Poets,' i. 96-105; 'Hector in the Garden,' i. 123; 'House of Clouds,' i. 89, 153, 462; 'The Island,' i. 49; 'Isobel's Child,' i. 73, 200; 'Lady Geraldine's Courtship,' i. 177, 181, 199, 201, 204, 211; 'Lay of the Brown Rosary,' i. 149, 150, 161; 'Lay of the Rose,' i. 82; 'Lord Walter's Wife,' ii. 443; 'Lost Bower,' i. 124, 195, 200; 'A Musical Instrument,' ii. 377, 406; 'My Doves,' i. 461; 'New Spirit of the Age,' i. 163; 'North and the South,' ii. 446; 'Poems,' of 1844, i. 164, 165, 180; 'Poems,' collected edition, i. 427, 436; 'Poems before Congress,' ii. 356, 361, 362, 363 ff., 368, 374, 399; 'Poet's Vow,' i. 36-39, 43, 49; 'A Portrait,' i. 190; 'Prometheus Bound,' i. 16, 18, 21, 135, 188; 'Psyche Apocalypte,' i. 84; 'Rhyme of the Duchess May,' i. 186, 247; 'Romance of the Ganges,' i. 52; 'Romaunt of Margret,' i. 36, 49, 64; 'Romaunt of the Page,' i. 61, 62; 'Runaway Slave,' i. 315, 462; 'Seamew,' i. 38, 461; 'The Seraphim,' i. 38, 39, 44, 45, 49, 56, 62-73, 110, 185, 188, 193; 'Song for the Ragged Schools,' ii. 185; 'Sonnets from the Portuguese,' i. 316, 317; 'Sounds,' i. 73; 'Stanzas on Mrs. Hemans,' i. 33; 'Tale of Villafranca,' ii. 333 ff.; 'Vision of Poets,' i. 157; 'Wine of Cyprus,' i. 178, 183

Barrett, George, brother of E.B.B., i. 2, 29, 32, 33, 35, 37, 78, 151, 166, 242, ii. 19, 263, 264

Barrett, afterwards Cook, Henrietta, sister of E.B.B., i. 2, 15, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 28, 33, 41, 46, 52, 53, 55, 75, 76, 77, 242, 294, 338, 443 ff., ii. 18, 207, 210, 239, 376, 400; illness and death, ii. 401, 405, 414 ff.

Barrett, Henry, brother of E.B.B., i. 2, 27, 55, 189, 242, ii. 18

Barrett, Octavius, brother of E.B.B., i. 2, 8, 15, 20, 173, 271, 275, ii. 18

Barrett, Septimus ('Sette'), brother of E.B.B., i. 2, 11, 14, 20, ii. 18

Bate, Miss Gerardine (Mrs. Macpherson), i. 285, 310

Bayley, Miss, i. 262, 362, ii. 232, 233, 240

Bellosguardo, ii. 125, 259

Beranger, ii. 49, 230, 231

'Blackwood's Magazine,' i. 181, 210, 213, ii. 253, 255, 387; poems by Mrs. Browning in, i. 304, 307, 314

Blagden, Miss Isa, i. 456, ii. 266, 267; letters to, i. 456, 467, ii. 3, 98, 124, 144, 243, 283, 290, 302, 308, 320, 339, 365, 371, 373, 375, 389, 411, 414, 418, 428, 431, 447

Bowring, Sir John, ii. 410, 412, 440

Boyd, Hugh Stuart, i. 9, 17, 20; death, i. 368; letters to, i. 23, 24, 29, 32, 37, 38, 39, 44, 45, 57, 60, 61, 68, 69, 70, 72, 73, 77, 79, 81, 88, 89, 91, 93, 95-107, 109, 114-120, 124, 125, 138-142, 152, 154, 171, 173, 175, 176, 179, 183, 184, 192, 200, 225, 242, 246, 250, 264, 270, 279, 314, 330

Boyd, Mrs. H.S., letter to, i. 8; death, i. 29

Boyle, Miss, i. 347, 352

Bracken, Miss A., ii. 267, 271

Braun, Dr., ii. 195

Braun, Mdme., see Thomson

Brizieux, Auguste, ii. 101

Bronte, Charlotte, her 'Jane Eyre,' i. 360, 384, 432, 435; 'Shirley,' i. 429, 430, 442; 'Villette,' ii. 139, 142

Brotherton, Mrs., medium, ii. 157

Browning, Miss, ii. 121; letters to i. 321, 369, 396, 397, 402, 408, 432, 477, ii. 93, 142, 161, 167, 179, 202, 239, 241, 250, 256, 267, 268, 294, 295, 297, 307, 310, 313, 317, 319, 341, 352, 368, 396, 433, 440, 448

Browning, Mrs., senior, her death, i. 396 ff.

Browning, R., senior, ii. 162, 314

Browning, Robert, i. 2, 5, 84, 104, 131, 133, 143, 150, 161, 163, 214, 236, 238, 246, 254, 275, 278 and passim thereafter; letters from, i. 334, 356, 379, 417, 423, 470, ii. 263, 267, 295, 302, 450; portrait, by Reade, ii. 143; by Fisher, ii. 160, 163; by Page, ii. 171, 233, 316; by Leighton, ii. 310; bust by Story, ii. 448; early engraving, i. 335; American appreciation of his work, ii. 436; want of appreciation in England, ii. 370. Works: 'Bells and Pomegranates,' i. 320; 'A Blot in the 'Scutcheon,' i. 391, 393; 'Christmas Eve and Easter Day,' i. 427, 432, 446, 449; 'Colombe's Birthday,' i. 264, ii. 91, 103, 112, 115, 116, 119; 'A Guardian Angel,' i. 380; 'In a Balcony,' ii. 121; Introduction to Shelley's 'Letters,' ii. 52; 'Men and Women,' ii. 205, 209, 218; 'Pippa Passes,' i. 264; 'Poems,' new edition, 1849, i. 361, 391; 'Sordello,' i. 264, ii. 228; 'Strafford,' ii. 436

Browning, Robert Wiedeman Barrett ('Penini'), i. 5, 395, and passim thereafter

Brunnyng, Robert, i. 371

Bulwer, Edward Lytton, afterwards first Lord Lytton, i. 16, 17, 36, 212, ii. 103, 145, 207

Burges, George, i. 102, 168

Byron, Lord, his poetry, i. 113, 115

Calvinism, thoughts on, i. 115

Carlyle, Thomas, i. 99, 136, 194, 199. 315, 338, ii. 16, 25, 27, 210

Carlyle, Mrs., ii. 78

Cartwright, W.C., ii. 346

Casa Guidi, i. 365, 372

Castellani, ii. 354

Cavour, ii. 360, 384; death, ii. 449

Chalmers, Dr., i. 53

Chambers, Dr., i. 57, 61, 68, 69, 71, 72, 269

Chasles, M. Philaret, ii. 43

Chaucer, Geoffrey, i. 128

Chorley, H.F., i. 71, 180, 187, 207, 307, 311, 320, 453-455, ii. 137, 173, 183; his 'Pomfret,' i. 271; 'Roccabella,' ii. 350; letters to, i. 191, 229, 230, 234, 255, 257, 271, 375, 393, 420, 432, 446, ii. 79, 127, 334, 350, 378, 380

Clive, Mrs. Archer, ii. 154

Clough, A.H., i. 426, 429

Cobbe, Miss, ii. 377, 398

Cobden, R., i. 223, 327, ii. 356, 387

Cocks, Lady Margaret, i. 43

Coleridge, S.T., i. 110, 141

Coleridge, Mrs., i. 145

Commeline, Miss, letters to, i. 7, 26, 53, 240

Como, ii. 9

Cook, Surtees, i. 338, 443

Cook, Mrs. Surtees, see Barrett, Henrietta

'Cornhill Magazine,' ii. 377, 423, 443 ff.

Corn Law League, i. 220, 223, 239, 240

Correggio, ii. 9

Crimea, war in the, ii. 179, 181, 183, 186, 189, 203

Crosse, Andrew, i. 72

Crystal Palace, the, ii. 24

Cumming, Dr., ii. 194

Cushman, Miss, i. 320, ii. 90, 128

Cyprus, wine of, i, 175, 179, 248, 250, 315

Dacre, Lady, i. 51, 68, 72

'Daily News,' the, i. 275

Dall' Ongaro, ii. 374, 375, 430, 447

Da Vinci, Leonardo, ii. 9

Dawson, Mr., ii. 429

De Quincey, i. 161

Dickens, Charles, i. 121, 123, 275, ii. 32, 229, 395

Dilke, C.W., editor of the 'Athenaeum,' i. 97, 107, 117, 134, 228, 446

Disraeli, Benjamin, his 'Coningsby,' i. 203, 205

Dryden, John, i. 107, 110

'Dublin Review,' the, i. 242

Dumas, Alexandre, i. 2, 319, 357, 419, 425, 462, ii. 40, 64, 86, 99, 182; his 'Monte Cristo,' ii. 301, 304

Dumas, A., fils, 'La Dame aux Camelias,' ii. 66, 106

Eagles, Mr., i. 201, 211

Eastlake, Lady, ii. 27

Eckley, Mrs., ii. 150, 296, 298

Elgin, Lady, ii. 24, 26, 221, 286, 290, 368

Eliot, George, ii. 338, 388, 400

England, politics in, ii. 278, 316

'Essays and Reviews,' ii. 427

Eugenie, Empress, ii. 101

'Examiner,' the, i. 64, 70, 180, 199, 204

Exhibition of 1851, the, i. 466

Fano, i. 380

Fanshawe, Miss, i. 464

Faraday, Professor, on spiritualism, ii. 122 ff., 128, 247

Faucit, Helen (Lady Martin), ii. 103, 119

Fauveau, Mdlle. de, i. 360, 378

Ferdinando IV., Duke of Tuscany, ii. 340

Ferucci, Professor, i. 303

'Finden's Tableaux,' i. 52, 61

Fisher, A., artist, ii. 160, 163

Flaubert, G., 'Madame Bovary,' ii. 151, 304

Florence, i. 326, 331, 343, ii. 96; the Tuscan National Guard, i. 344, 346; revolutions, i. 400 ff., 405

Flush, Miss Barrett's dog, i. 100, 105, 107, 149, 154, 155, 207, 224, 298, 307, 324, 342, 346, 357, 382

Forster, John, i. 180, 204, 329, ii. 16, 186, 286; letter to, ii. 383

Fox, Miss, ii. 151

France, the Coup d'etat, ii. 32 ff.; politics in, i. 363, 368, 374, 383, 386, 389, 400, ii. 42, 48, 61, 70, 230; war with Austria, 305 ff.

Fuller, Margaret (Mme. Ossoli), i. 428, 445; death, i. 459 ff.; her character, ii. 59

Gaeta, siege of, ii. 413, 418

Garibaldi, Giuseppe, ii. 318, 338, 398, 402, 416, 441

Gaskell, Mrs., ii. 259; her 'Mary Barton,' i. 471, 472; 'Ruth,' ii. 139, 141

Genoa, ii. 94, 95

Ghirlandaio, i. 448

Gibson, J., artist, ii. 148

Girardin, Emile de, ii. 30, 38

Goethe, i. 474

Graham-Clarke (afterwards Barrett), Mary, mother of E.B.B., i. 2, 6, 7

Gregory Nazianzen, i. 45, 92, 94, 97, 98, 100, 104, 146; his 'De Virginitate,' i. 78, 92

Gresonowsky, Dr., ii. 321, 326, 341, 355

'Guardian,' the, ii. 13

Guercino, i. 380, 441

Hanford, Mrs., i. 33, 87

Harding, Dr., i. 401, 458, 462, ii. 183

Havre, ii. 287 ff.

Haworth, Miss E.F., i. 322, ii. 21, 242; letters to, ii. 21, 118, 135, 149, 222, 234, 266, 272, 273, 281, 285, 322, 348, 354, 386, 393, 405, 408, 420, 424, 450

Hawthorne, Nathaniel, ii. 132, 304, 307, 310

Haydon, B.R., i. 146; his portrait of Wordsworth, i. 112; suicide, i. 278, 279; biography, ii. 161

Hazard, Mr., ii. 355

Heaton, Miss, ii. 150, 151

Hedley, Mr., i. 359

Hemans, Mrs., i. 232, 234

Hesiod, translations from, i. 262

Hillard, Mr., i. 378

Homer, i. 118, 125

Hook, Theodore, i. 44, 161, 253

Hope End, home of Mrs. Browning, i. 3

Horne, R. II., i. 3, 5, 36, 74, 78, 80, 81, 84, 85, 104, 133, 153, 174, 182, 199, 214, 308, 339, 345, 353, 368, 431, 452, ii. 31; his 'Orion,' i. 145, 148, 150; 'The New Spirit of the Age,' i. 163

Hosmer, Miss, ii. 166, 168, 344, 388, 392

Howe, Mrs., ii. 166, 170

Howitt, Mary, i. 320

Howitt, William, i. 216, ii. 403, 406

Hugo, Victor, i. 123, ii. 90, 230, 260-262

Hume (al. Home), spiritualistic medium, ii. 196, 201, 226, 266, 280

Hunt, Leigh, i. 84, 216, 452, ii. 253

Italian Literature, i. 309, 312

Italy, politics in, i. 348, 357, 359, 373, 383, 386, 388, 400, 409, 416, 439, ii. 96, 114, 311, 326 ff., 340, 346, 361, 367, 372, 382, 389, 402, 413

Jameson, Mrs., i. 104, 194, 199, 216, 217, 226, 238, 239, 284, 285, 296, 298, 299, 301, 307, 326, 327, ii. 16, 196; her 'Legends of the Monastic Orders,' i. 440; death, ii. 365; letters to, i. 227, 273, 328, 354 376, 414, 421, 440, 448, ii. 32, 57, 65, 80, 107, 109, 146, 187, 208, 220, 227, 228, 232, 236, 245, 251, 258, 269, 270, 345, 360, 364

Jerrold, Douglas, i. 203, 239

Jewsbury, Miss, i. 465, ii. 27

John Mauropus, i. 103

John of Damascus, i. 97

John of Euchaita, i. 104

Keats, John, i. 188

Kemble, Fanny (Mrs. Butler), i. 466, ii. 16, 154, 158, 159, 167, 196

Kenyon, John, i. 2, 32, 51, 58, 67, 68, 102, 104, 112, 121, 153, 166, 172, 173, 202, 203, 205, 233, 265, 288, 290, 295, 297, 308, 310, 311, 353, 375, 420, 426, ii. 16, 77, 87, 197, 223, 224, 232, 233, 235, 238, 239; death, ii. 241, 245; legacy to Mr. and Mrs. Browning, ii. 241, 246, 248; letters to, i. 58, 59, 108, 127, 129, 136, 143, 145, 167-169, 187, 203, 207, 209, 211, 223, 239, 245, 248, 249, 361, ii. 7, 52, 89, 95, 115

Kinglake, A.W., ii. 186, 210, 429; his 'Eōthen,' i. 216

Kingsley, Charles, ii. 83, 85, 86, 134

Kinney, Mr. W.B., ii. 126

Kinney, Mrs. W.B., letter to, ii. 244

Kirkup, Mr., i. 440, 448, ii. 253, 395

Knowles, Sheridan, i. 43, 47, 48

Kossuth, ii. 115

Lamartine, i. 375, 425, ii. 30, 57, 64, 71, 133

Lamoriciere, General, ii. 368, 372, 377, 393

Landon, L.E., i. 232

Landor, Walter Savage, i. 43, 47, 55, 117, 137, ii. 78, 186, 286, 323, 324, 336, 343, 349, 353, 395, 397, 403; verses to Robert Browning, i. 275

Langland, W. (Piers Plowman), i. 105

Leighton, Frederic, ii. 197, 210, 233, 452

Lever, Charles, i. 413, 417, 465, 473

Lockhart, J.G., ii. 154, 159, 163

London, residence of the Barretts in, i. 31-56 (74 Gloucester Place), 56-74, 91-279 (50 Wimpole Street)

Longfellow, H.W., i. 454

Louis Philippe, King of the French, i. 203, 206

Lowell, J.R., i. 251

Lucca, Bagni di, ii. 121 ff., 267 ff., 411 ff.

Lucerne, ii. 10

Luther, ii. 426

Lynch, Miss, ii. 144

Lytton, Sir Edward, see Bulwer

Lytton, Robert, ii. 97, 99, 103, 113, 125, 126, 142, 145; illness, ii. 267 ff.

Macauley, T.B., i. 209, 408

Maclise, D., i. 119

Macpherson, James, and Ossian, i. 118, 126

Macready, W., ii. 229, 393

MacSwiney, Mr., i. 9, 73

Mahony, F., see Prout

Manning, Dr. (afterwards Cardinal), ii. 410

Mario, Jessie (nee White), ii. 277, 321, 338, 347, 442

Marlowe, Christopher, i. 107

Marsh, Mr., American Minister at Constantinople, ii. 102, 105

Martin, James, letters to, i. 122, 219. (See also Martin, Mrs., letters to)

Martin, Mrs. James, letters to, i. 6, 10, 13, 16, 18, 21, 27, 33, 41, 46, 50, 75, 85, 86, 110, 120, 137, 143, 147, 165, 189, 193, 196, 202, 205, 215, 216, 221, 236, 237, 251, 266, 267, 274, 276, 277, 286, 300, 325, 335, 371, 387, 404, 437, 475, ii. 13, 17, 19, 34, 41, 74, 83, 113, 140, 180, 184, 192, 211, 212, 225, 236, 248, 254, 263, 264, 277, 324, 357, 400, 415, 438

Martineau, Harriet, i. 59, 151, 161, 169, 194, 196, 199, 200, 202, 205, 212, 217, 219, 220, 225, 227, 256, 276, 352, 355, 387, ii. 403

Mathew, Mrs., i. 25

Mathews, Cornelius, letters to, i. 132, 198, 213

Maurice, F.D., ii. 177

Maynooth, the grant question, i. 252

Mazzini, G., ii. 78, 109, 115, 277, 279

Mesmerism, i. 196, 200, 202, 205, 212, 217, 219, 220, 236, 238, 255-259

'Metropolitan Magazine,' the, i. 243, 245, 248

Milan, ii. 9

Mill, John Stuart, i. 467

Milnes, Monckton, i. 217, 308, ii. 79, 84, 134, 230, 376

Milsand, M. Joseph, ii. 29, 43, 108, 173, 242, 250, 275, 284, 314, 399, 449

Mitford, Miss M.R., i. 32, 43, 46, 47, 50, 51, 52, 55, 66, 78, 83, 104, 108, 111, 131, 137, 153, 154, 161, 167, 205, 220, ii. 12; death, ii. 191; character and genius, ii. 216, 217; her 'Otto,' i. 47, 48; 'Recollections,' i. 453, 464, ii. 43, 45 ff., 58, 60; 'Atherton,' ii. 165, 171, 173, 175; dramas, ii. 175; letters to, i. 67, 297, 304, 311, 318, 339, 345, 349, 356, 358, 365, 373, 379, 384, 399, 410, 423, 427, 430, 434, 443, 450, 453, 458, 463, 470, ii. 5, 25, 28, 38, 45, 49, 62, 69, 76, 77, 84, 87, 100, 105, 122, 132, 152, 159, 164, 169, 171, 174, 176

Mohl, Mme., ii. 24, 42, 66, 221

Montgomery, Robert, i. 265

Moore, Thomas, ii. 102, 141

Mulock, Miss, letters to, ii. 44, 67, 72; ii. 79

Murray, Miss, i. 253

Musset, Alfred de, ii. 64, 100

Napoleon, Louis (Napoleon III.), i. 375, 386, 389, 400, 406, 419, 428, 429, ii. 22, 30, 33 ff., 51, 54, 90, 110, 114, 181, 219, 230, 276, 306, 307, 309, 317, 323, 326, 327, 331, 335, 339, 373, 383 ff., 393, 413, 429, 433, 440; letter to, ii. 261

Napoleon, Prince, ii. 437

Napoleon Buonaparte (Napoleon I.), i. 82

Newman, J.H., i. 210

'New Monthly Magazine,' i. 36, 37, 40, 44, 49

'New Quarterly,' the, i. 229

Nightingale, Florence, ii. 188

Nonnus, translations from, i. 261

'North American Review,' i. 109

Novara, battle of, i. 409

O'Connell, Daniel, i. 50, 195

Ogilvy, Mr. and Mrs., i. 440, 445, ii. 4

Orsay, Count d', i. 222

Orsini, his attempt on Napoleon III., ii. 276 ff.

Ossian, i. 117-120, 125, 126

Ossoli, Mme., see Fuller

Padua, ii. 9

Page, W., artist, ii. 128, 148, 155, 171, 307, 315, 388

Pantaleonie, Diomed, ii. 389, 432

Paris, i. 299, ii. 11, 23, 65, 281, 284, 285

Parker, Theodore, ii. 355, 388

Patmore, Coventry, ii. 112, 134, 138, 184, 255

Paulus Silentiarius, i. 103, 104

Petrarch, ii. 9

Phelps, S., i. 391, 393

Phillpotts, Henry, Bishop of Exeter, i. 50, 74

Pisa, i. 302, 330

Pisida, George, i. 103

Pius IX., Pope, i. 344, 391, 392, 420

Plato, i. 101, 119, 170

Poe, E.A., i. 249

Pope, Alexander, i. 107

Powers, Hiram, sculptor, i. 334, 347, 378, ii. 97, 120, 131

Procter, Mr. (Barry Cornwall), ii. 16

Prout, Father, i. 355, 385, 392, ii. 286

'Punch,' i. 203

'Quarterly Review,' i. 65

Quinet, Edgar, ii. 101

Ravenna, i. 381

Reade, Charles, ii. 271, 357

Reynolds, Mrs., i. 351

Ristori, Mme., ii. 228

Rogers, Samuel, i. 190, 221, 222, ii. 16

Romagnoli, Ferdinando, ii. 208, 251

Rome, ii. 154, 165, 352 ff.

Rossi, Count Pellegrino, i. 392

Rousseau, J.J., ii. 293

Ruskin, John, i. 384, 386, ii. 87, 169, 170, 210, 253, 268, 414; letters to, ii. 190, 198, 214, 216, 299, 302, 315

Russell, Lord John, ii. 109

Russell, Odo, ii. 309, 332, 339, 359, 376

Ste.-Beuve, C.A., ii. 101

Salvini, ii. 319

Sand, George, i. 233, 357, 363, 425, 428, ii. 26, 29, 39, 50, 51, 55-57, 59, 60, 63, 66, 70, 76, 222, 230

Sardinia, war with Austria, i. 374, 409

Sartoris, Mrs. (Adelaide Kemble), ii. 154, 159, 167, 179, 182

'Saturday Review,' ii. 365, 375, 387, 403

Sayers, Tom, ii. 365, 387, 400

Scott, Sir Walter, i. 126

Scully, Dr., i. 76, 86, 87, 90, 111

Seward, Anna, i. 231

Sewell, Miss, ii. 429, 430

Sidmouth, residence of the Barretts at, i. 10-30

Siena, i. 456 ff., ii. 319 ff., 342

Sigourney, Mrs., i. 251

Slavery, abolition of, in West Indies, i. 21, 23

Smith, Alexander, ii. 112, 120, 134, 138, 161

Soulie, Frederic, i. 387, 466; his 'Saturnin Fichet,' i. 318

Southey, Mrs., i. 138

Southey, Robert, i. 170

Spiritualism, ii. 92, 99, 102, 117, 120, 121, 122, 125, 133, 137, 149, 157, 158, 193, 247, 356, 395, 421 ff.

Stanhope, Lord, ii. 79

Story, Mr. and Mrs. W.W., ii. 130, 132, 143, 294, 334, 411, 446; death of their child, ii. 147, 152

Stowe, Mrs. Beecher, ii. 107, 110, 183, 258, 408, 409, 421, 424

Stuart, Mr., i. 416, 422, 441, 448

Sue, Eugene, ii. 31, 40, 41

Sumner, Charles, ii. 286

Swedenborg, ii. 21, 145, 156, 424

Synesius, i. 96, 100, 104

Talfourd, Serjeant, i. 133, 197, 393, ii. 31; his 'Ion,' i. 43, 47, 48

Tennyson, Alfred, i. 84, 150, 157, 160, 161, 215, 264, 324, 339, 345, 434, 456, ii. 15, 84, 86, 88, 205, 213, 419; his 'Poems,' of 1842, i. 108, 109; 'Locksley Hall,' i. 204; 'The Princess,' i. 361, 367, 429, 431; 'In Memoriam,' i. 453, 465, 471, 472; 'Maud,' ii. 209, 213

Tennyson, Frederick, ii. 99, 112, 113, 123, 125, 126

Terni, ii. 152, 295, 296

Teynham, Lord, i. 243

Thackeray, W.M., ii. 148, 154, 253, 377, 391, 408; his 'Vanity Fair,' i. 401; letters from, ii. 444, 446; letter to, ii. 445

Thierry, M., ii. 75

Thiers, M., ii. 33

Thomson, Miss (Mme. Braun) i. 58, 431; letters to, i. 260, 261, ii. 195, 288

'Times,' the, ii. 279, 317, 319, 329

Tommaseo, N., inscription in honour of Mrs. Browning, ii. 452

Torquay, Miss Barrett's residence at, i. 74-90

Trollope, Anthony, ii. 377, 391

Trollope, Mrs., i. 17, 476, ii. 173, 177, 226

Tyndal, Mrs. Acton, i. 351

Vallombrosa, i. 332 ff.

Vaucluse, i. 285, 323

Venice, ii. 6, 8

Ventnor, ii. 236, 239

Viardot, Mme., ii. 75, 76

Victoria, Queen, i. 222, 253

Villafranca, conference of, ii. 319, 320, 323, 324, 330

Wales, H.R.H. the Prince of, ii. 309, 312

Ware, Mr., i. 378

Webbe, General W., i. 451

Wellington, Duke of, ii. 163

'Westminster Review,' the, i. 194, 199, 215

Westwood, Thomas, i. 94, 473; letters to, i. 94, 114, 149, 150, 157. 159, 160, 162, 174, 175, 185, 190, 224, 244, 253, 264, 323, 342, 468, ii. 138, 155

Wetherell, Elizabeth, her 'Queechy,' ii. 134

Wilde, Mr., ii. 344

Wilson, Mrs. Browning's maid, i. 283, 319, &c.

Wiseman, Mrs., i. 380

Wordsworth, William, i. 43, 47, 55, 60, 84, 160, 161, 252, 253, 267; death, i. 449; letter from, i. 113; his poetry, i. 110, 113, 119, 138, 141, 201; his portrait by Haydon, i. 112, 113; Miss Barrett's sonnet on it, i. 113

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