TO HIS FAMILY.
To-day I must give you an account of my first eight days in Rome, how I have arranged my life here, what my prospects are for the winter, and how these divine places affected me at first; to describe all which is hard. I seem to myself to have changed since my arrival; before that I tried to repress my impatience to move forwards and push on fast with the journey, putting it down simply to my own natural hastiness, but here I recognise clearly that it was only the keen desire to reach this great centre of things that made me so. Now I have attained it, and my feeling has grown quiet and glad and earnest in a way I cannot describe, nor can I define what it is that produces this effect; the awful Colosseum and the brilliant Vatican alike contribute to it, so does the soft spring weather and the kindly people, my pleasant room, and everything. Things somehow are different. I feel happy and well as I have not been for ages, and have such a pleasure in work and desire of it that I hope to accomplish far more here than ever I proposed. I have made some way already. If Heaven will only grant me an endurance of this good fortune I look forward to a splendidly fruitful winter.
