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....