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