were his last days at Casa Guidi. It was four years
before he definitely began the work. The idea of converting the story
into a poem cannot even have occurred to him for some little time, since
he offered it for prose treatment to Miss Ogle, the author of 'A Lost
Love'; and for poetic use, I am almost certain, to one of his leading
contemporaries. It was this slow process of incubation which gave
so much force and distinctness to his ultimate presentment of the
characters; though it infused a large measure of personal imagination,
and, as we shall see, of personal reminiscence, into their historical
truth.

Before 'The Ring and the Book' was actually begun, 'Dramatis Personae'
and 'In a Balcony' were to be completed. Their production had been
delayed during Mrs. Browning's lifetime, and necessarily interrupted by
her death; but we hear of the work as progressing steadily during this
summer of 1862.

A painful subject of correspondence had been also for some time engaging
Mr. Browning's thoughts and pen. A letter to Miss Blagden written
January 19, '63, is so expressive of his continued attitude towards the
questions involved that, in spite of its strong language, his family
advise its publication. The name of the person referred to will alone be
omitted.

'. . . Ever since I set foot in England I have been pestered with
applications for leave to write the Life of my wife--I have refused--and
there an end. I have last week received two communications from friends,
enclosing the letters of a certain . . . of . . ., asking them for
details of life and letters, for a biography he is engaged in--adding,
that he "has secured the correspondence with her old friend . . ." Think
of this beast working away at this, not deeming my feelings or those of
her family worthy of notice--and meaning to print letters written years
and years ago, on the most intimate and personal subjects to an "old
friend"--which, at the poor . . . [friend's] death fell into the hands
of a complete stranger, who, at once wanted to print them, but desisted
through Ba's earnest expostulation enforced by my own threat to take
law proceedings--as fortunately letters are copyright. I find this woman
died last year, and her son writes to me this morning that . . . got
them from him as autographs merely--he will try and get them back. . . ,
evidently a blackguard, got my letter, which gave him his deserts, on
Saturday--no answer yet,--if none comes, I shall