“So much more I could write ... about Villafranca, but I won’t.  The Emperor, great man as he is, could not precisely anticipate the high qualities given proof of in the late development of Italian nationality.  He made the best terms he could, having had his hand forced.  In consequence of this treaty he has carried out his engagement to Austria in certain official forms, knowing well that the free will and choice of the Italians are hindered by none of them; and knowing besides that every apparent coldness and reserve of his towards the peninsula removes a jealousy from England, and instigates her to a more liberal and human bearing than formerly.

“Forgive me for all these words.  I am much better, but still not as strong as I was before my attack; only getting strength, I hope.

“Miss Blagden and Miss Field are staying still with us, and are gone to Siena to-day to see certain pictures (which has helped to expose you to this attack).  We talk of returning to Florence by the first of October, or soon after, in spite of the revival of fine weather.  Mr. Landor is surprisingly improved by the good air here and the repose of mind; walks two miles, and writes alcaics and pentameters on most days ... on his domestic circumstances, and ...  I am sorry to say ...  Louis Napoleon.  But I tell him that I mean him to write an ode on my side of the question before we have done.

“I honour you and your husband for the good work you have both done on behalf of this great cause.  But his book[1] we only know yet by the extracts in the Athenaeum, which brings us your excellent articles.  May I not thank you for them?  And when does Mr. Trollope come back?” [from a flying visit to England].  “We hope not to miss him out of Florence long.

[Footnote 1:  Tuscany in 1849 and 1859.]

“Peni’s love to Bice.[1] He has been very happy here, galloping through the lanes on a pony the colour of his curls.  Then he helps to work in the vineyards and to keep the sheep, having made close friends with the contadini to whom he reads and explains Dall’ Ongaro’s poems with great applause.  By the way, the poet paid us a visit lately, and we liked him much.

[Footnote 1:  Browning’s boy and my girl.]

“And let me tell Bice’s mother another story of Penini.  He keeps a journal, be it whispered; I ventured to peep through the leaves the other morning, and came to the following notice:  ’This is the happiest day of my hole (sic) life, because dearest Vittorio Emanuele is really nostro re!’

“There’s a true Italian for you!  But his weak point is spelling.

“Believe me, with my husband’s regards,

“Ever truly and affectionately yours,

“ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.”

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