ing to be
prompted by a public verdict. As the poet described her to me as she
moved through her exquisite apartments, surrounded by all the luxuries
that naturally connect themselves with one of her commanding position in
literature and art, her radiant and exceptional beauty of person, her
frank and cordial manners, the wit, wisdom, and grace of her speech, I
thought of the fair Giovanna of Naples as painted in "Bianca
Visconti":--

"Gods! what a light enveloped her!
.... Her beauty
Was of that order that the universe
Seemed governed by her motion.....
The pomp, the music, the bright sun in heaven,
Seemed glorious by her leave."

One of the most agreeable men in London literary society during
Procter's time was the companionable and ever kind-hearted John Kenyon.
He was a man compacted of all the best qualities of an incomparable
good-nature. His friends used to call him "the apostle of cheerfulness."
He could not endure a long face under his roof, and declined to see the
dark side of anything. He wrote verses almost like a poet, but no one
surpassed him in genuine admiration for whatever was excellent in
others. No happiness was so great to him as the conferring of happiness
on others, and I am glad to write myself his eternal debtor for much of
my enjoyment in England, for he introduced me to many lifelong
friendships, and he inaugurated for me much of that felicity which
springs from intercourse with men and women whose books are the solace
of our lifelong existence.

Kenyon was Mrs. Browning's cousin, and in 1856 she dedicates "Aurora
Leigh" to him in these affectionate terms:--

"The words 'cousin' and 'friend' are constantly recurring in this
poem, the last pages of which have been finished under the
hospitality of your roof, my own dearest cousin and friend;--cousin
and friend, in a sense of less equality and greater
disinterestedness than Romney's.... I venture to leave in your hands
this book, the most mature of my works, and the one into which my
highest convictions upon Life and Art have entered; that as, through
my various efforts in literature and steps in life, you have
believed in me, borne with me, and been generous to me, far beyond
the common uses of mere relationship or sympathy of mind, so you may
kindly accept, in sight of the public, this poor sign of esteem,
gratitude, and affection from your unforge