Antonelli and his party are in desperation, gnashing their teeth at the Tuileries.

The position of the Emperor is most difficult, but his great brain will master it.

We are rather uneasy about the English Ministry--its work in Congress; it might go out for me (falling to pieces on the pitiful Suez question or otherwise), but we do want it at Congress.
* * * * * _To Mrs.Jameson_ 28 Via del Tritone, Rome: February 22 [1860].
Dearest, naughtiest Mona Nina,--Where is the place of your soul, your body abiding at Brighton, that never, no, never, do I hear from you?
It seems hard.

Last summer I was near to slipping out of the world, and then, except for a rap, you might have called on me in vain (and said rap you wouldn't have believed in).

Also, even this winter, even in this Rome, the city of refuge, I have had an attack, less long and sharp, indeed, but weakening, and, though I am well now, and have corrected the proofs of a very thin and wicked 'brochure' on Italian affairs (in verse, of course), yet still I am not too strong for cod-liver oil and the affectionateness of such friends as you (I speak as if I had a shoal of such friends--povera mi!).