Meanwhile I am reading you in the "Independent," sent to me by Mr.
Tilton, with the greatest interest. Your new novel opens beautifully.
[Footnote: _The Pearl of Orr's Island_.]
Do write to me and tell me of yourself and the subjects which interest
us both. It seems to me that our Roman affairs may linger a little
(while the Papacy bleeds slowly to death in its finances) on account
of this violent clerical opposition in France. Otherwise we were
prepared for the fall of the house any morning. Prince Napoleon's
speech represents, with whatever slight discrepancy, the inner mind of
the emperor. It occupied seventeen columns of the "Moniteur" and was
magnificent. Victor Emmanuel wrote to thank him for it in the name of
Italy, and even the English papers praised it as "a masterly
exposition of the policy of France." It is settled that we shall wait
for Venice. It will not be for long. Hungary is _only_ waiting,
and even in the ashes of Poland there are flickering sparks. Is it the
beginning of the restitution of all things?
Here in Rome there are fewer English than usual, and more empty
houses. There is a new story every morning, and nobody to cut off the
head of the Scheherazade. Yesterday the Pope was going to Venice
directly, and, the day before, fixed the hour for Victor Emmanuel's
coming, and the day before _that_ brought a letter from Cavour to
Antonelli about sweeping the streets clean for the feet of the king.
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