13 Dorset Street: Tuesday, [July-August 1855].

My dearest Mona Nina,--I write to you in the midst of so much fatigue
and unsatisfactory turmoil, that I feel I shall scarcely be articulate
in what I say. Still, it must be tried, for I can't have you think that
I have come to London to forget you, much less to be callous to the
influence of this dear affectionate letter of yours. May God bless you!
How sorry I am that you should have vexation on the top of more serious
hurts to depress you. Indeed, if it were not for the _other side of the
tapestry_, it would seem not at all worth while for us to stand putting
in more weary Gobelin stitches (till we turn into goblins) day after
day, year after year, in this sad world. For my part, I am ready at
melancholy with anybody. The air, mentally or physically considered, is
very heavy for me here, and I long for the quiet of my Florence, where
somehow it always has gone best with my life. As to England, it affects
me so, in body, soul, and circumstances, that if I could not get away
soon, I should be provoked, I think, into turning monster and _hating_
the whole island, which shocks you so to hear, that you will be provoked
into not loving me, perhaps, and _that_ would really be too hard, after
all.

The best news I can give you is that Robert has printed the first half
volume of his poems, and that the work looks better than ever in print,
as all true work does brought into the light. He has read these proofs
to Mr. Fox (of Oldham), who gives an opinion that the poems are at the
top of art in their kind. I don't know whether you care for Mr. Fox's
opinion, but it's worth more than mine, of course, on the ground of
_impartiality_, to say no otherwise, and it will disappoint me much if
you don't confirm both of us presently. The poems, for variety,
vitality, and intensity, are quite worthy of the writer, it seems to me,
and a clear advance in certain respects on his previous productions.

Has 'Maud' penetrated to you? The winding up is magnificent, full of
power, and there are beautiful thrilling bits before you get so far.
Still, there is an appearance of labour in the early part; the language
is rather encrusted by skill than spontaneously blossoming, and the
rhythm is not always happy. The poet seems to aim at more breadth and
freedom, which he attains, but at the expense of his characteristic
delicious music. People in general appear very unfavourably impressed by
this poem, _very unjustly_, Robert and I think. On some points it is
even an advance. The sale is great, _nearly five thousand copies
already_.

Let me see what London news I have to tell you. We spent an evening with
Mr. Ruskin, who was gracious and generous, and strengthened all my good
impressions. Robert took our friend young Leighton to see him
afterwards, and was as kindly received. We met Carlyle at Mr. Forster's,
and found him in great force, particularly in the damnatory clauses. Mr.
Kinglake we saw twice at the Procters', and once here.... The Procters
are very well. How I like Adelaide's face! that's a face worth a drove
of beauties! Dear Mrs. Sartoris has just left London, I grieve to say;
and so has Mrs. Kemble, who (let me say it quick in a parenthesis) is
looking quite magnificent just now, with those gorgeous eyes of hers.
Mr. Kenyon, too, has vanished--gone with his brother to the Isle of
Wight. The weather has been very uncertain, cloudy, misty, and rainy,
with heavy air, ever since we came. Ferdinando keeps saying, 'Povera
gente, che deve vivere in questo posto,' and Penini catches it up, and
gives himself immense airs, discoursing about Florentine skies and the
glories of the Cascine to anyone who will listen. The child is well,
thank God, and in great spirits, which is my comfort. I found my dear
sister Arabel, too, well, and it is deep yet sad joy to me to look in
her precious loving eyes, which never failed me, nor could. Henrietta
will be hindered, perhaps, from coming to see me by want of means, poor
darling; and the same cause will keep me from going to Taunton. We have
a quantity of invitations to go into the country, to the Custs, to the
Martins, &c. &c., and (one which rather tempts _me_) to Knebworth, Sir
Edward Lytton having written us the kindest of possible invitations; but
none of these things are for us, I see.

Dearest friend, I do hope you won't go to Rome this winter. When you
have been to Vienna, come back, and let us have you in Paris. I am glad
Lady Elgin liked the book. The history of it was that she asked Robert
to get it for her, and he _presented_ it instead.

Our M. Milsand likes you much, he says, and I like you to hear it....

Oh, we read your graceful, spirited letter in the 'Athenaeum.' By the
way, did you see the absurd exposition of 'Maud' as an allegory? What
pure madness, instead of Maudness!