Portions of other letters from Browning to Mrs. Bronson are as follows. The first refers to the little daughter of Princess Mélanie Metternich.
“First and worst of all, dear friend, how truly grieved I am to hear of the sad end of the poor little girl I remember so well. Do you remember how she, with her sister, walked before us on our way homeward from the Piazza on nearly our last evening? And how prettily she asked me at her own house to write in her Birthday Book! All this sudden extinction of light in the gay Ca’ Bembo, where I saw the silks bespread before your knowledge and my ignorance!
“It is needless to say how much I pity the Princess, and her kindly husband, too, and I am sorry, very sorry, for you also, Dear Friend of mine, well knowing how you must have suffered in degree.”
Mrs. Bronson had a talent for the writing of drawing-room comedies, and to one of these the poet alludes:
“Dear Friend,—I kept your Comedietta by me a whole week that I might taste of it again and again; how clever it is, who can know better than I, who furnished the bare framework which your Virginia creeper has over-flourished so charmingly? It is all capitally done; quite as much elaborated as the little conception was worth; but its great value to me is the proof it really gives what really good work you might do on a larger scale....
“... I dined last evening at John Murray’s, in the room where used to meet Byron, Scott, Moore, all those famous men of old, whose portraits still adorn the walls. Murray told me he well remembered Byron and his ways; could still in fancy see him and Scott, and also hear them, as they stamped heavily (lame as both were) down the somewhat narrow stairs. Sociability may well come to the relief of people who cannot amuse themselves at home, for the weather, mild, and too mild, is gray, sunless and spiritless, altogether. To-day it rains, a rare occurrence....”
One of the very pleasant interludes in Mr. Browning’s life came about this time in the receipt of a letter from Professor Masson of the University of Edinburgh, inviting the poet to be his guest the week of the coming Tercentenary celebration of the University. It had been decided to confer on Mr. Browning an Honorary Degree, but by some misadventure the official letter announcing this had not reached him, and in reply to Professor Masson he wrote that he had not received “the invitation to Edinburgh which occasions this particularly kind one,” which he thankfully acknowledged, “but I should find it difficult if not impossible to leave London in April,” he continues, “as my son will then be with me; but had I seen my way in so doing it would delight me, indeed, could I spend the days in question with you and Mrs. Masson.” He added that if ever he was privileged “to see the as famous as beautiful City again,” he should call on the Massons the first thing of all, and he desired thanks to Mrs. Masson “for associating her goodness with yours.”
Apparently another letter appears from Professor Masson, but still Browning does not receive the official invitation of the University. “Should it follow,” he writes, “I will acknowledge the distinction as gratefully as I have done already when it was conferred by Oxford and Cambridge.” The Massons also invited Mr. Browning to bring his son with him, and he responded:
“... So, my dear Professor Masson, I provisionally accept your hospitality with thankfulness, and that of Mrs. Masson. For my son, who is away, I can only say that he shall be informed of your goodness, and I fully believe will be delighted to avail himself of it.... As to the ‘vagueness or intelligibility’ of your note, I can assure you that one thing was intelligible enough,—that you wished to help me most kindly and pleasantly to witness an extremely interesting ceremony, and I have written to my son and his answer you shall hear as soon as possible.... By the way, ought I to attend in the Oxford D.C.L. gown,—at any preliminary entertainment, for instance.”
The next letter tells its own story.