[Rome]: 43 Bocca di Leone: March 27, [1859].

My ever dearest Isa,--You don't write, not you! I wrote last, remember,
and though you may not have liked all the politics of the same, you
might have responded to some of the love, you naughty Isa; so I think I
shall get up a 'cause celebre' for myself (it shall be my turn now), and
I shall prove (or try) that nobody has loved me (or can) up to this date
of the 26th of March, 1859. Dearest Isa, seriously speaking, you must
write, for I am anxious to know that you are recovering your good looks
and proper bodily presence as to weight. Just now I am scarcely of sane
mind about Italy. It even puts down the spirit-subject. I pass through
cold stages of anxiety, and white heats of rage. Robert accuses me of
being 'glad' that the new 'Times' correspondent has been suddenly seized
with Roman fever. It is I who have the true fever--in my brain and
heart. I am chiefly frightened lest Austria yield on unimportant points
to secure the vital ones; and Louis Napoleon, with Germany and England
against him, is in a very hard position. God save us all!

Massimo d' Azeglio[62] has done us the real honor of coming to see us,
and seldom have I, for one, been more gratified. A noble chivalrous
head, and that largeness of the political _morale_ which I find nowhere
among statesmen, except in the head of the French Government. Azeglio
spoke bitterly of English policy, stigmatised it as belonging to a past
age, the rags of old traditions. He said that Louis Napoleon had made
himself great simply by comprehending the march of civilisation (the
true Christianity, said Azeglio) and by leading it. Exactly what I have
always thought. Azeglio disbelieves in any aim of territorial
aggrandisement on the part of France. He is full of hope for Italy. It
is '48 over again, said he, but with matured actors. He finds a unity of
determination among the Italians wherever he goes.

Well, Azeglio is a man. Seldom have I seen a man whom I felt more
sympathy towards. He has a large, clear, attractive 'sphere,' as we
Swedenborgians say.

The pamphlet Collegno never reached us. The Papal Government has
snatched it on the way. Farini's is very good. Thank you for all your
kindness as to pamphlets (not letters, Isa! I distinguish in my
gratitude). We lent Mr. Trollope's to Odo Russell,[63] the English
plenipotentiary, and to Azeglio, so that it has produced fruit in our
hands.

Did I write since Robert dined with the Prince of Wales? Col. Bruce
called here and told me that though the budding royalty was not to be
exposed to the influences of mixed society, the society of the most
eminent men in Rome was desired for him, and he (Col. Bruce) knew it
would 'gratify the Queen that the Prince should make the acquaintance of
Mr. Browning.' Afterwards came the invitation, or 'command.' I told
Robert to set them all right on Italian affairs, and to eschew
compliments, which, you know, is his weak point. (He said the other day
to Mrs. Story: 'I had a delightful evening yesterday at your house. I
_never spoke to you once_,' and encouraged an artist, who was 'quite
dissatisfied with his works,' as he said humbly, by an
encouraging--'But, my dear fellow, if you were satisfied, you would be
so _very easily_ satisfied!' Happy! wasn't it?) Well, so I exhorted my
Robert to eschew compliments and keep to Italian politics, and we both
laughed, as at a jest. But really he had an opportunity, the subject was
permitted, admitted, encouraged, and Robert swears that he talked on it
higher than his breath. But, oh, the English, the English! I am
unpatriotic and disloyal to a _crime_, Isa, just now. Besides which, as
a matter of principle, I never put my trust in princes, except in the
parvenus.

Not that the little prince here talked politics. But some of his suite
did, and he listened. He is a gentle, refined boy, Robert says....

May God bless you, dearest Isa. I am, your very loving

BA.