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In May, shortly after the outbreak of war, the Brownings returned to Florence, whither a division of French troops had been sent, under the command of Prince Napoleon.  The Grand Duke had already retired before the storm, and a provisional government had been formed.  It was here that they heard the news of Magenta (June 4) and Solferino (June 24), with their wholly unexpected sequel, the armistice and the meeting of the two Emperors at Villafranca.  The latter blow staggered even Mrs. Browning for the moment, but though her frail health suffered from the shock, her faith in Louis Napoleon was proof against all attack.  She could not have known the good military reasons he had for not risking a reversal of the successes which he had won more through his enemy’s defects than through the excellence of his own army or dispositions; but she found an explanation in the supposed intrigues of England and Germany, which frustrated his good intentions.

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To Miss Browning

Florence:  [about May 1859].

My dearest Sarianna,—­You will like to hear, if only by a scratch, that we are back in Tuscany with all safety, after a very pleasant journey through an almost absolute solitude.  Florence is perfectly tranquil and at the same time most unusually animated, what with the French troops and the passionate gratitude of the people.  We have two great flags on our terrace, the French flag and the Italian, and Peni keeps a moveable little flag between them, which (as he says) ’he can take out in the carriage sometimes.’  Pen is enchanted with the state of things in general, and the French camp in particular, which he came home from only in the dusk last night, having ’enjoyed himself so very much in seeing those dear French soldiers play at blindman’s buff.’  They won’t, however, remain long here, unless the Austrians threaten to come down on us, which, I trust, they will be too much absorbed to do.  The melancholy point in all this is the dirt eaten and digested with a calm face by England and the English.  Now that I have exhausted myself with indignation and protestation, Robert has taken up the same note, which is a comfort.  I would rather hear my own heart in his voice.  Certainly it must be still more bitter for him than for me, seeing that he has more national predilections than I have, and has struggled longer to see differently.  Not only the prestige, but the very respectability of England is utterly lost here—­and nothing less is expected than her ultimate and open siding with Austria in the war.  If she does, we shall wash our hands like so many Pilates, which will save us but not England.

We are intending to remain here as long as we can bear the heat, which is not just now too oppressive, though it threatens to be so.  We must be somewhere near, to see after our property in the case of an Austrian approach, which is too probable, we some of us think; and I just hear that a body of the French will remain to meet the contingency.  Our Italians are fighting as well as soldiers can.