rigue about,
and get smuggled through the courteous hands of French generals) are
absorbing enough.

I had a letter from George yesterday with good news of dearest Mrs.
Martin. May it be true. But I can't understand whether you have spent
this winter in Devonshire or Worcestershire, or where. The thick gloom
of it is over now, yet I find myself full of regrets. It's so hard to
have to get out into the workday world, daylight, open air and all, and
there's a duty on me to go to France, that Robert may see his father.
You would pity me if you could see how I dread it. Arabel will meet me,
and spend at least the summer with us, probably in the neighbourhood of
Paris, and after just the first, we--even I--may be the happier. Don't
tell anyone that I feel so. I should like to go into a cave for the
year. Not that I haven't taken to work again, and to my old interests in
politics. One doesn't quite rot in one's selfishness, after all. In
fact, I think of myself as little as possible; it's the only way to bear
life, to throw oneself out of the personal.

And my Italy goes on well in spite of some Neapolitan troubles, which
are exaggerated, I can certify to you. Rome, according to my information
as well as my instincts, approaches the crisis we desire. In respect to
Venetia, we may (perhaps must) have a struggle for it, which might have
been unnecessary if England had frankly accepted co-action with France,
instead of doing a little liberalism and a great deal of suspicion on
her own account. As it is, there's an impression in Europe that
considerations about the East (to say nothing of the Ionian Islands)
will be stronger than Vattel, and forbid our throwing over our 'natural
ally' for the sake of our 'natural enemy.'

I am sure you must have been anxious lately on account of America. There
seems to be a good deal of weakness, even on the part of Lincoln, who,
if he had not the means of defending Fort Sumter and maintaining the
Union, should not have spoken as he did. Not that it may not be as well
to let the Southern States secede. Perhaps better so. What I feared most
was that the North would compromise; and I fear still that they are not
heroically strong on their legs on the _moral question_. I fear it much.
If they can but hold up it will be noble.

We remain here (where we have had the mildest of winters) till somewhat
late in May, when we go to Florence for a week or two on our way to
Paris.

You see my Emperor is