SD2277. William Wetmore Story to Charles Eliot Norton
As published in The Brownings’ Correspondence, 26, 360–361 (in part).
Villa Belvedere, Siena
August 6, 1859.
My dear Charles,
I have just written a long chapter on the Jews in the Ghetto at Rome in which I have given …
Walter Savage Landor has been staying with us here in our Villa for the last three weeks. The poor old man, you may remember, after that most unfortunate trial in the Yescombe affair, gave to his family all his property to save it from being subjected to pay the £1000 adjudged by the court as damages—left England, and made a reconciliation with his wife after a rupture of 23 years. Then at his villa with them he has been staying for a twelvemonth. It has been the curse of King Lear over again. Wife & children alike to whom he had given up his all, maltreated him in the basest way—and he was finally forced to leave the villa & take refuge in an Inn in Florence. There Browning found him and brought him to Siena—he having expressed a wish to find a little cheap apartment here. Having previously written to me for information as to the villas & houses on lease here, he came at once to me and I persuaded him to stay—so shocked was I at the whole story of ingratitude which he told me and Browning fully confirmed. He looked very much broken down when he came, into a cheerful life with nobody to irritate him, plenty of fresh air has made a new man of him & he has taken a villa in the neighborhood where he will remain until we leave for Rome. It is a noble structure of a mind—capacious and perfect still in all its main parts—here & there are cracks and flaws—& the gigantic memory has begun to crumble away—but the great imposing edifice shows a grand front still—the old man is still strong, though he has completed 84 years, and looks back on a long space. Up early in the morning, he reads & sometimes writes Latin alcaics & since he has been here he has fired several Latin bombs into Louis Nap’s camp. He is as stout for liberty as ever—a great friend to Garibaldi and a real lover of Italy. We hope still to have imaginary conversations from his pen as we have real conversations from his mouth. We have found him most amiable & interesting with certain streaks of madness running through his opinions, but frank & earnest of nature & a hater of injustice. He tells us stories of past times, past men & past actions—which are very amusing—and we are sorry to lose him at last—after the long discourse looking before & after that we have had. He is now publishing a new volume containing his Hellenics and additional new Poems. His mind is as active as ever.
Browning too is at a stone’s throw from us, and every evening we sit on our lawn under the ilexes & cypresses and take our tea, & talk until the moon has made the circuit of the quarter of the sky. He is well and full of life as ever, but poor Mrs. B. is sadly weak & ill. She is intensely interested in Italian affairs, & as you know believes in Louis Napoleon. When the news of the Peace of Villafranca came she was very much overcome by it, & having unfortunately taken cold by some imprudent exposure, she has been utterly prostrated. We think she has passed the dangerous crisis & is slowly moving on towards health—but still she is terribly weak, so weak that she cannot walk across the room—and is afflicted by a racking cough which often robs her of sleep by night. I have only once seen her since she left Florence—for she cannot talk, & every excitement must be avoided. When she came up, she was carried in arms to the carriage & thence to the house, & looked like a dark shadow. Browning is in good spirits about her—& has no fears now. Penny is well & as I write I hear him laughing & playing with my boys & Edie on the terrace below my window. The children are growing up almost too fast—and thank God we are all well. I have never known Emelyn better either in health or looks. Wild is staying with us, & painting some beautiful pictures. I am writing every day something or other—& think of publishing a new volume of Poems very soon—better than anything I have yet done. One long Italian story I think is by far my best. Maybe in time you will see it. You see I have still hope—though I feel pretty sore about my American success. Still if the American public thought it was written by an Englishman perhaps they might find it good. …
Publication: Henry James, William Wetmore Story and His Friends (London, 1903), II, 14–16 (in part).
Manuscript: Harvard University.
___________________
