. Even the outside shell of the plan is but half given,
and the double action of the metaphysical intention entirely ignored. I
protest against it. Still, Robert thinks the article not likely to do
harm. Perhaps not. Only one hates to be misrepresented.

So glad I am that Robert was good last night. He told me he had been
defending Swedenborg and the spirits, which suggested to me some notion
of superhuman virtue on his part. Yes; love him. He is my right 'glory';
and the 'lute and harp' would go for nothing beside him, even if
'Athenaeums' spelled one out properly.

Dearest Isa, may God bless you! Let me hear by a word, when Ansuno
passes, how you are. Your loving

E.B.B.

* * * * *

The following letter was written almost immediately after the receipt of
the news of Mr. Kenyon's death. Mrs. Kinney, to whom it is addressed,
was the wife of the Hon. William Burnett Kinney, who was United States
Minister at the Court of Sardinia in 1851. After his term of office he
removed to Florence, for the purpose of producing an historical work,
but he did not live to accomplish it. Mrs. Kinney, who was herself a
poet, was also the mother of the well-known American poet and critic,
Mr. E.C. Stedman.[51]

* * * * *

_To Mrs. W.B. Kinney_

Casa Guidi: Friday evening [December 1856].

Your generous sympathy, my dear Mrs. Kinney, would have made me glad
yesterday, if I had not been so very, very sad with some news of the day
before, telling me of the loss of the loved friend to whom that book is
dedicated. So sad I was that I could not lift up my head to write and
express to you how gratefully I felt the recognition of your letter. You
are most generous--overflowingly generous. If I said I wished to deserve
it better, it would be like wishing you less generous; so I won't. I
will only thank you from my heart; _that_ shall be all I shall say.

Affectionately yours always,
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.

* * * * *

_To Mrs. Jameson_

Florence: December 26, 1856 [postmark].

My ever dear Friend,--To have three letters from you all unanswered
seems really to discredit me to myself, while it gives such proof of
your kindness and affection. No other excuse is to be offered but the
sort of interruption which sadness gives. I really had not the heart to
sit down and talk of my 'Aurora,' even in reference to the pleasure and
honour