Caroline Crane Marsh Diaries, 1864

Why has society chosen to make the opening of the new year such a weariness and a burthen Carrie managed to get her drawing lesson this morning while Mr Marsh and I spent the time in making out lists of cards to be left. She too, hurried off to pay visits as soon as the Carriage was ready. While some other visitors were with me de Bunsen came in, stayed them out, and then we had a long hour’s talk about what he has just seen in France, Germany and the Danubian provinces. France, he says, is stirred to her inmost centre with a firm purpose of obtaining more individual rights, more personal liberty, & he believes the Emperor will be wise in time, and grant with a good grace what is demanded. Therefore in France he looks for no internal disturbance that shall amount to violence. Of the Danish question I am sorry to see that he takes merely a German’s view, but he thinks it may lead to a general war, though he looks to Hungary and the Danubian provinces as the points where the flame is most sure to burst out. He declares that the fact that all the sovereigns in Europe are surrounded by military influence, and advised almost exclusively by military men explains why Europe is always in a state of warfare, or on the eve of becoming so. Beside political matters we spoke of the great religious movements of the day with much hopefulness. Indeed, if I can judge from conversation with the most enlightened men and women, whether strangers or Turinese, that I see here, nothing can be more unfounded than the accusation, so frequently brought against our age, of indifference as to the great question of a future life. Mr de Bunsen gives even the Italian statesmen and men of letters credit for something far more like faith in Christianity as they understand it, than most persons have done. Of Cavour he says he knows this to be a fact: that in 1854 when he was about to press the passage of a law for the suppression of a considerable number of convents he sent for Padre Giaccamo, explained to him clearly what he was about to do, and his reasons for so doing, and ended by saying: You see my object is not to injure the Catholic Church, but to purify it, to remove only what is unnecessary and defacing, and consequently a weakness. Now, can you after this conscienciously give me absolution at my last hour. Father Giaccomo’s reply was ‘that he knew him to be a faithful son of the church, that though he might misjudge as to her interests he would never intentionally do her wrong, that he should therefore unhesitatingly give him absolution whenever he should be in circumstances to require it.’ Mr de Bunsen added, that an acquaintance of his own, an attaché of the French Legation hearing, the night before Cavour’s death, that the last rites of the church were about to be administered to him, went into the sacristy of the chapel, took a torch from the hand of a servant, joined in the procession, and with it entered into the room of the dying man. Cavour, he says, was sitting pillowed up nearly erect in his bed, the collar of his night-gown open, and the same friendly smile on his face that he wore in the days of health and activity. As the priest approached he covered his face with his hand as if to concentrate every mental faculty, then responded to the questions of his confessor distinctly and coherently - received the sacrament with the greatest apparent devotion, and when all was over leaned back on his pillow with the same tranquil, benevolent smile he had laid aside for a moment. This was at seven in the evening, and at seven in the morning he passed away. This story Mr de Bunsen declares he had from the lips of the attaché himself, and he fully believes it. As to the facts with regard to Cavour I suppose there can be no reason to question them as they are the same as stated by the Countess Alfieri, but I confess myself a little sceptical as to the part the attaché professes to have played. However one may almost say here that nothing is impossible / Mrs Tottenham made rather a significant remark here today. Speaking of a young English girl supposed to be about to marry a Piedmontese officer, she said: ‘I wonder any English girl should be willing to marry an Italian officer now, it would be so unpleasant in case Italy should make war upon Austria to have her husband’s country on one side and her own on the other.’

Mr Marsh came out about four o’clock from his Library into the drawing-room, and I said: ‘I would not have believed that so much as a dog would have come out visiting in this dismal snow-storm! ’And did a dog really come?’ he said with such a serious air as was beyond all comedy. ‘No dogs,’ I said ‘but two or three very nice countesses, - the Bernes, the Della Rocca, and the third whose name had escaped the servants.’ We had been sitting for half an hour trying to make up our minds whether it wouldn’t be best after all to go back to the old system of receiving once a week rather than to be so constantly interrupted, when the door-bell rang again. Mr Marsh started. I said - ‘don’t go - the lamps are already lighted, it is just dinner-time, no visitor would come now.’ ‘It’s another of your countesses, I dare say,’ he said as he slipped quietly through the dining-room door, and at the same moment the Marchesa Mari was ushered in from the other side. She is one of my es-special favorites, but I don’t know how it is, all these Piedmontese ladies bewitch me with their indescribable grace and delicacy.

Neither Mr Marsh or I went out this morning, Carrie going to church with Giacchino for decorum. I felt almost too unwell to listen to reading at first, but one of Vincent’s admirable Méditations soon made me forget my bodily aches. What a glorious thing it is to have left behind such thoughts - thoughts that can lift other poor mortals on their divine wings to such heavenly heights. Mr Clay interrupted our reading by coming in to say to Mr Marsh that he wished to return to America for a time at least as soon as he could get leave from the Department. Poor fellow! His family news is sad enough. A brother reported killed fighting against his country, and a sister losing her only son by illness. His mother’s family nearly all ruined in Kentucky, and part of them fled to Texas. In the afternoon Mr Marsh and Carrie went to the Vaudois church. I stayed at home feeling so ill as earnestly to hope that the Baroness Hochschild would not make her proposed visit, which fortunately for me she did not.

No visits except from the Tottenhams and Mme Giletta. - note from the Countess Maggiolini. In the evening Mr Marsh read some articles from the Revue Crétienne. Among others a short biographical sketch of the great Italian reformer Pallissario, including those grand words of his - ‘this is no time for a christian to die in his bed.’ He also read a short notice of Saisset, the great Frenchman who died last week - a sad loss for philosophy and religion. We half expected to hear tonight that a collision had actually taken place between Denmark and Germany, but no such news came, and we are now inclined to adhere to our first opinion that magnanimous England will compel Denmark, by the

                   Piobesi Torinese il 1 genio  [gennaio] 1864
                   Stimatissimi Signori
Oggi comincia il 1864 che ve lo auguro
felice, e pieno di buone venture.
La mia madre ed io tutta la nostra
famiglia sono tutti in perfetta salute
e vi maudiamo tutti i piu sinceri augu-
ri gli fo i dovuti rispetti e mi congratulo
con le Signorie vostre, e vi auguro feliceme-
nte un buon capo d’anno e salutate i
Signori vostri il Ministro la Signora
e Signorina, Gaetano tutti indistintamen-
te
Accettate i miei saluti favoritenu delle
vostreno notizje desidero di vedervi presto
e mi protesto vostra umile serva devota


Vardiero Maria Benedetta

most disinterested advice of course, to submit to every outrage on the part of Germany, and that she will say to Italy in case she dares assert her rights to Venice: ‘we can’t allow you to make war upon Austria.’ The conduct of England towards Austria can be explained only by the determination of the English aristocracy to sustain Austrian aristocracy, even if it is necessary to sacrifice every other principle she has ever professed.

C. went out to leave cards as soon as the carriage was ready - returned quite chilled, the thermometer being little above 20 Fehrenheit. The Gajanis brought in their soldier-brother to see us in the evening - Mr Marsh, Mr Artoni & C. went to the Teatro Reggio soon after eight - heard Goudot’s [Gounod’s] Faust, and saw the much-to-be-pitied Doria.

This morning the papers are warlike again. England is said to have spoken out to Germany and to have ordered a part of her fleet to the Baltic - we are incredulous still. I was called from the dancing-room to see Miss Avezzana who brought a lady whose name had evidently been blundered by the servant. I thought it might be Mme Mancini and used all my diplomacy to find out in the course of the conversation, but could not. She was a great liberalist, talked of notre chère Duchesse de Bevilocqua, but still I could not quite make out, or rather admit to myself, that this was the great Sicilian poet. When she left I asked Mme Rothan who had come in during the visit, if she thought this could possibly be Mme Mancini. She thought a moment, and then said with a little hesitation: ’cela se peut, cela se peut; en vérité elle a bien parlé,” but on cross-questioning Gaetano afterwards I found the lady was indeed a Sicilian, but not Madame Mancini - only Mme Del Careti, wife of the sufficiently conspicuous General.

I had sent my chair to the chapel where we go on Sunday intending to join Mr Meille’s congregation there at three o’clock, when Mme de Hochschild sent me word that she wished to pay me a visit at half past three. It was difficult not to chafe a little under this, as it was the first time I have tried to go out for two weeks, but there was no help for it. Poor old Captain Crowther came in first. I have not seen him before since the death of his daughter six weeks after her marriage. His wife, he tells me, has never left their son-in-law since, always following him from garrison to garrison. Mme de Hochschild was followed almost immediately by Madame Elliot, whom she came to present. To my simplicity it seems very absurd that Mrs Elliot, after the cards that have passed between us, the many enquiries and answers about the sick child, the messages through Mrs Tottenham, &c&c - that after all these Mrs Elliot could not come to see me without having a lady to present her, but I ought not to forget that we Americans are but Hurons, and by no means competent to judge of the proprieties of truly civilized life - On the whole I like Mrs Elliot, for, when once presented, she behaved very much as any quiet American lady would have done. Mme Arconati has just sent me a note asking me to manage a meeting for her with Mme Rothan in my drawing-room. Here is another instance of etiquette which puzzles my semi-civilized head not a little. The Marquise Arconati, who stands as one of the foremost leaders of Italian society, a lady whose acquaintance any person in Europe might be proud to make, does not think it sufficient to send her card to Mme Rothan, or to signify through a friend that she would like to make her acquaintance; (or perhaps she thinks this too much of an advance on her part) nor does she propose to me to present Mme de Rothan to her through some friend who should take Mme R__ to pay her a visit, but she prefers to arrange a meeting in my salon. I have no doubt at all that this is quite in accordance with the nicest etiquette, but it puzzles me. Miss Arbesser spent the evening with us

This morning, it being bitter cold for Turin still, I ventured out to take Mme Gajani to hear Ruscalla’s Lecture on what constitutes nationality. Mr Marsh presented us to the lecturer before he began. We heard much better than I expected, and really lost little except proper names, which he spoke hurriedly and of course with a pronunciation odd to us, and occasional words and phrases from the Sclavish languages, the various forms of which he ran through as they were found in other tongues. There were also certain slaps at the Jesuits which amused his audience generally, but the point of which we lost. He is an animated speaker, and we were much pleased on the whole. After the lecture was over I asked him to present his daughter to me which he did. She is an intellectual looking girl, and also writes herself for the Rèvista Contemporanea. Dr. Monnet came in this evening just as we were setting out for the first lecture of a series to be given at the Liceo, somewhat on the principle of English and American lectures. We were not particularly attracted by the subject announced for the first Lecture but decided to go for the sake of helping to make up an audience which we supposed would be scanty at best. The Dr. joined us, and on arriving at the Hall to our surprise we found it well filled with the very élite of the Turinese society. My first glance showed me half a dozen Marchese and Contesse whom I would have sworn were at the Teatro Regio at that moment. The ladies occupied the inner circles, the gentlemen the more elevated ones behind. Every person in the room was well dressed, and the whole appearance of the assembly was rather that of a fashionable private concert than a popular lecture. The orator of the evening came forward, made a short, but rather graceful preface in a subdued, drawing-room-tone of voice, & then began his reading. To a person accustomed to the stirring manner and matter of our Good American lecturers, such as Giles, Holland, Beecher, etc - the whole effect of this reading was really ridiculous. The subject, if it can be said to have a subject, [illegible] was certain sketches of individuals composing the Monelli family (an imaginary family of course) and then a narrative of certain domestic events and scenes, ending after the manner of the feuilletons of the day, in the betrayal of a husband by his wife, and the promise of the further history of the wife in a future Lecture!! - and careful mammas had brought their young daughters of from twelve to eighteen to be edified by this Lecture! It was really too absurd. I must however do the writer the justice to say that his style was admirable, his descriptions very pictorial, and a delicate vein of irony pervaded the whole composition. As the beginning of a novel of this particular genre it would have been most creditable, - as a Lecture it was below criticism. As I threw myself upon my bed after my return, and wrapped up my aching side with flannels I could not help feeling very silly at the sacrifice I had made to so little purpose. I was certainly not needed to swell the audience, and for the rest I had certainly really paid very dear

Miss Todros came rather early to see Carrie, and was soon followed by her aunt the Countess - a Venitian. The Countess Castellani [illegible] Santoni came in during this visit and remained till after Madame Todros left. As soon as she was gone the Castellani asked her name. I gave it, looking at the same time significantly towards the niece, hoping I should be understood. “Todros,” repeated the lady with a semi-grimace: alors “c’est une Juive alors?.” I looked again at the niece who was luckily chatting away with Carrie, and said in a very low tone “Voilà la nièce!” Mme Castellani put on the most comic expression between a little mortification and a good deal of mischief - then went on to compliment the rare intelligence the Countess Todros had shown in her conversation. This was certainly no more than justice, for the countess had talked well, but the compliments were probably intended for the benefit of the niece. I like this pretty Castellani though she is, I fancy, not a little malicious, in the French sense. It is settled that I am to take her to Mr Matteucci’s Lecture. By the way, the Todros says that the ladies who went to the Lecture Friday night and took their daughters came home furious at the character of the Lecture. I am rather glad to hear this for I was really afraid that most of the audience would think it all right. The Baroness Todros came to take away her daughter while Mme Castellani was still with me - so that she had an opportunity of seeing another of my Hebrew acquaintances. It amuses me greatly when these things happen. During the course of the day Mr Marsh had a message from the foreign office from which it appears they are in great distress about the Re d’Italia reported coulé au fond on her trial trip. He went directly over, took them some charts etc. Carrie went off with Mme de Hochschild at half past nine to a ball at the Menabrea’s, and I went quietly to bed.

Carrie came home at half past two, but was still ready and bright for a nine o’clock breakfast. I was not expected at the ball of course, and somebody graciously apologized for my husband with: “mais que voulez vous? c’est toujours ainsi avec les hommes serentipiques.” Rustem Bey said his mother’s physicians prescribed the Teatro Regio as the best medicine for her morale, - that she had been carried there from her bed two or three times, but that the last time she had taken so bad a cold that so far they had not been able to get her up again! C. and I went to church and I was glad to find that old father Brown’s christian charity was strong enough to make him seem to forget my sharp talk with him the other day. After such a hearty hand-shaking all must be right I am sure, besides, Miss Nora presented her brother to me just as I was stepping into the carriage, and begged permission to bring him to see me. Mr Tottenham gave us a good sermon, but I had a better one still from

Samuel Vincent after we came back. The Kossuths made their usual Sunday visit, and were full of lively talk. They gave a droll account of the behaviour of a mamma who had taken her daughters to the Lecture, and at whose house they paid a visit the same evening. They declare she actually cried with vexation - called poor Torelli un brigand &c. The application of this epithet quite upset Mr Marsh’s gravity. I have seldom heard him laugh so. We have a telegram that the Re d’Italia is safe, at which we really rejoice.

I tried to hurry off a little piece of work this morning, which has been waiting for me three weeks, before it was time to dress to receive the Marchesa Arconati, and had scarcely finished it when a note was handed me saying she wished to come an hour earlier than had been settled, in order to bring Mr Castillia, who would have to go to the Senate at two. To notify Mme Rothan of the change and to get the drawing-room warm this bitter cold day took every moment till the hour arrived. Fortunately every thing went off smoothly. We were delighted to see Mr Castillia, and the two ladies seemed to take to each other at once. After a little while Mr Marsh took Mr Castillia to his cabinet, leaving us three ladies to ourselves for a good hour’s chat. The Marchesa was quite enthusiastic about a manuscript she had just received from Mr Senior, containing many of his late conversations with distinguished French Statesmen, both those connected with the court, and those in the opposition. I could not help expressing my surprise that Mr Senior felt himself justified in circulating his notes taken in this way, but the ladies me that this habit of his was perfectly well-known, and that therefore there was nothing unfair in it. I confess this judgment was rather consolatory to me, who have often had misgivings as to whether I was justified in writing down so much of what is said in the freedom of conversation, even though what I write is intended for no eye but mine. The possibility that by some accident my journal might fall into other hands than mine, has frequently made me hesitate to write down many things that I knew I should wish myself to remember hereafter, but this gentleman, it seems, is thought to be fully justified in his course, which is, not only to take careful notes, but to put these notes into the hands of his friends. Our conversation was interrupted by a visit from Madame Malaret, a French woman in almost every respect the exact opposite of Mme Rothan - very plain, very free and easy but without the least dignity, with a volubility upon the most trifling subjects, which would be in the highest degree oppressive if it were not accompanied by a feeling of relief that there was no opportunity given for a reply. The announcement of another visitor gave those already with me a good excuse for taking their leave, and I was sure the Marchesa Arconati wished to get

away from the very first moment that the stormy French Baroness made her appearance. Later in the day the Baroness Visconti brought the Countess Maggiolini, a very lady-like English woman, married to an Italian codino - one of those nine-hundred-year-old pretenders whose sun is fast setting. I was so thoroughly tired out by dinner-time that I shrunk from the idea of going to the Lecture in the evening, but dinner and a cup of tea after refreshed me a little, and we hurried the abbé off just in time to get one of the last seats in the hall, There was a formidable array of man and monkey skeletons and Professor des Filippi did his best to make us believe that we were all descended from monkeys, and that we ought to be satisfied with so respectable an ancestry. The Lecture was certainly more befitting the occasion than was Torelli’s, but to me it was dull and unconvincing. He gave us no new facts, and failed to answer the most important of Quatrefage’s objections to this theory. Mr Marsh was too far off to hear him with anything like distinctness, but in my judgment he lost little. I had a word with Mme Arconati, both before and after the Lecture. Speaking of the two ladies she had met in the morning she said - “Est-il possible - d’imaginer deux personnes de type plus opposé - !”

We had a wonderfully quiet day today, owing no doubt in part to the extreme cold. The thermometer at the Observatory being it is said at zero Fahr. this morning. There must be terrible suffering among the poor, for here even, with all our comforts, the whole household is complaining. The arrest of the three 4 Italians at Paris confessing the intention to have murdered the Emperor excites profound regret among all the friends of Italy, or rather I should say it is not their arrest, but the fact of the conspiracy that distresses them. Mazzini must be the maddest of madmen, and I cannot see how England if he continues to go on in this way, can fail to treat him as a madman, and shut him up where he can no longer put in jeopardy the lines of others in this way. It is dreadful to see this noble nature so distorted and ruined. This evening we read Ewald’s terribly severe criticism on Renan’s Life of Christ. It will no doubt do much to injure the popularity of this book.

Madame Pétrof spent an hour with me while the girls were dancing, and told me again the sad story of her sister’s death from the diphtheria on the fortieth day after her marriage. No other visitors except the Countess Giletta who came for her daughter

Mr Clay came in rather early this morning. He looks worn and anxious, but I hope he will not resign and leave us at Mr Seward’s mercy once more for a successor. Still it is most natural that a Kentuckian should be unhappy away from his home at this time. This evening, notwithstanding the bitter cold - the thermometer almost at zero, - the Count and Countess Gigliucci came in to pass the evening with us. We enjoyed their visit not a little. The Countess is full of pleasant reminiscences of Charles and Mary Lamb, of Leigh Hunt etc. besides her own abundant stock of original remark. Mr Marsh says she is a ‘real live woman’, which means a great deal with him. We asked the Countess, when she was speaking of her long residence in Nice, if she knew the d’Abbadys. She said she was one evening presented to Madame, and sat by her on the sofa nearly the whole evening, during which time the lady entertained her with an account of a most melancholy affliction that had lately befallen her - the death of a lap-dog! Madame G__ . listened patiently and sympathetically as long as she could, but at last finding there was likely to be no change of topic she ventured to hint that for her own part she did not much like lap-dogs - Madame d’A__ . replied with some spirit - “moi, je les adore.” - “Et moi, je les déteste” was the rejoinder, which proved a settler, for the ladies said no more. Some years after the Countess Gigliucci was on her way from Lyons to Marseilles by rail. The day was very hot, and the compartment already contained six persons when a gentlemen and lady, the latter holding a small basket, entered the carriage. The previous occupants had expanded themselves and their shawls as well as they could to prevent this addition to their numbers, but it was no use - there were no other first class seats, and they were admitted of necessity. No sooner however were they seated then the Countess G__ . exclaimed “Mon Dieu, je sens un chien! Est-ce-qu’il y a un chien ici?” and she looked fiercely at the little basket The intruding lady looked deprecatingly, and then said coaxingly - “Mais, madame, c’est un tout petit, c’est un rien!”Mais, Mon Dieu, cé-serait impossible d’y rester avec un chien dans une telle chaleur!” and she called to the guard. The poor fellow, who had received his fee, and slunk away, was deaf as long as possible, but Madame Gigliucci’s repeated demand ‘Est-ce-qu’il est permis de porter des chiens dans les premières classes’ had to be attended to at last, and the man was obliged to tell the lady that she must give up her dog, offering to take good care of it himself - “Non,” said the lady decidedly, “s’il faut faire sortir mon chien, moi, je sors aussi!” and she left the compartment in high indignation - “Guess my astonishment,” says Madame Gigliucci “when the lady threw up her veil as she stepped out, and I recognized Mme d’Abbady of Nice.! And, hadn’t I unconsciously taken a most delightful revenge for that dreadful evening on the sofa!” If I could write as fast as Mme Gigluicci talks I should not content myself with recording only this one of the many nice little things she told this evening. Speaking of music we asked her opinion of Schoppin [Chopin] - “He was the first musical genius of his age” was her decision. “There is only one thing worse than French immorality - that is French morality.” I am not sure whether Madame G__. originated or quoted, this aphorism.

We went, with Mrs Gajani, to hear Veggezzi-Ruscalla lecture at one; Though we lost a good deal I still found the Lecture most interesting & I could not help telling Ruscalla at the end how much I was delighted with his appreciation of Kalawala. The Lecturer kindled with enthusiasm, and said he should have more to write on that exquisite poem before his Lectures were finished. We settled that his daughter, Miss Ida, should come and see me some Saturday. We tried to read one of her stories in the Rivista the other evening, but couldn’t get through with it. The young lady is said to be highly gifted, and I have no doubt she is, but either her genius does not lie in the direction of romance, or she is very inexperienced as a writer. As I took Mme Gajani home, I stopped to inquire after the dear old Baron Plana, who is ill, and has been bled, the papers say, this morning. The Baroness did not send an unfavourable report of him, and I hope he may live in spite of these Turinese butchers: The idea of bleeding an old man upwards of eighty because he has taken cold! Mr Fogg - our minister from Switzerland to Berne, dined with us. He seems a sensible man, and sound in his politics. I wish he might do some good in Rome where he is going, but it seems now as if that miserable Hooker would have everything his own way, and succeed in ousting Stillman at last. Perhaps, now that Hughes is dead, and (an event which seems to give great satisfaction) it is possible that Mr Seward may be induced to adopt a different policy in Italy, but I fear there is little chance of it. We were obliged to excuse ourselves to our guest at an early hour, on account of Matteucci’s Lecture. We picked up the Countess Castellani and were at the Hall at least twenty minutes before the hour, and yet all the best seats for gentlemen were already taken. The Countess explained to us that her family connexions generally would be dreadfully shocked at her going to such a place. It seems that my note to her in the morning had been taken to her sister-in law by mistake, and in this way, the startling fact of what she was about to do had got out to the great dismay of the family. “Ma Belle-soeur se ferait écorcher vive peu tôt que de se trouver a un tel cours!” She told Mr Marsh in the livliest way how arrierée all her family were, and said she had to thank God for a twelve year residence in Lombardy or she should be no better than the rest. When she ventures to criticise their illiberality a little, and tells them that the world must and will go on in spite of the efforts of the Piedmontese nobility to hold it back, they cry out: “Pour charité, Clotilde, pour charité, ne dites pas ces choses - là devant mes filles!” Among themselves they say, “Pauvre Clotilde, comme elle a la tête chaude! Dieu! Qu’ est ce qu’ella va devenir?” The beautiful, lively creature gave me such a funny account of her reception of a dozen persons, most of them gentlemen, in her bed-room last evening. She was suffering from

rheumatic pains in her shoulders, ordered her bed to be warmed, and went to bed, forgetting to give orders to say she was not well. She sprang into bed without making any change in her hair, waiting for her maid to come with brushes and night-cap, but scarcely had her head touched the pillow when the servant announced two gentlemen. “Of course” said the Countess in telling the story, “it was too late to decline their visit then, and as I had received these I was obliged to receive all others who came.”Et enfin, voilà ma petite chambre remplie de douze personnes, et mon mari, voyez vous, n’aime pas que je recoive dans ma chambre à coucher!” I record this as a specimen of Piedmontese habits, very puzzling to us. Perhaps I ought to put down as equally characteristic some of the gentlemen’s remarks to her. When she explained to them that she was really indisposed, and had not intended to receive, they said “Mais, Madame, vous voilà toute coiffie, et reposant dans votre lit comme une jolie petite poupée - il n’y a de quoi doutes - vous l’avez fait exprès!”

A light snow-storm, and few visitors today. Rustem Bey confirms Carrie’s account of the Doctor’s prescription for his mamma, who does not come round at all he says. I talked with him a good while about Turkish matters, and he declares the Empire to be rapidly strengthening itself under Fouad Pascha’s Pacha’s guidance, and making the best progress every way. He gave an interesting account of the father of Fouad, Isec Moolah, who was executed under Sultan Mahmoud. The Countess Beltrami was my only lady-visitor. Just as we were about sending to the station to meet brother Charles by the nine train, he made his appearance, having anticipated us by taking the slow two o’clock line. We are delighted to have him here at last. He looks very thin, but otherwise seems well.

It was so cold this morning that I gave up going to church as I had intended. We talked over home-friends with Charles, - Carrie wrote a letter for me - & almost as soon as we were ready to sit down in the drawing room, the widely-famed Beatrice Mancini was shown in. When I have such visitors as this it makes me regret my own inability to go out and do my share in keeping up the intercourse Madame Mancini has such a large circle of acquaintance that it must be very difficult for her to make even return-visits, much less to go often to see those who never visit and can of course set up no claims. This charming woman did not disappoint me. She is still very handsome, with an expression such as you might expect from one who thinks as she can think and writes as she can write. She promises to come to me often and to bring her daughters for Carrie’s sake, but I know it will be difficult for her to keep her promise. The venerable Castillia came to give Mr Marsh some information which Mr Norton of Cambridge has asked for. As I listened to him and watched his almost more than humanly benign countenance I could not help saying to myself “were there every confessors such as Italy’s confessors?” Here was a man condemned to death in the very glory of his youth by an accursed [illegible] tyranny, the sentence remitted for a fourteen years’ imprisonment in the Spielberg, then released only on condition of a distant exile, and yet this man stands before us without one line of dark and passionate resentment traceable in his countenance, without one drop of bitterness in his heart. One feels almost like falling on one’s knees before such grandeur of soul.

The papers say dear old Plana is worse this morning; I shall send at once to see. The post brought me a charming letter from the Baroness Gautier, as graceful and affectionate as she is herself. The cold is bitter this morning - the thermometer under the portici indicating [illegible] nine below zero of Fahrenheit. The news from Plana is that he is not expected to live through the night. His words when he came in to see me that last time seem to be about to prove prophetic. - ‘I have come to take leave of you before I go up there’ I believe these murderous doctors have killed him. Husband went to the Court-Ball this evening. We had no visitors except Mr Artoni who came in for a few minutes before going to the Mancini. He says the whole story about the late conspiracy against the life of the Emperor is a sheer fabrication so far as it relates to Mazzini. Mazzini’s letter of denial might by many be regarded as inconclusive, but the whole story of his agency in the matter is so monstrously improbable that few are found to give any faith to it. Indeed, the general opinion is that the whole thing has been got up in Paris to give the Emperor the benefit of a temporary diversion of the public attention from one quarter to another.

Another bitter cold morning - thermometer nine degrees below zero under the portici - two below at the Observatory a hundred feet higher. It is hard work to keep warm and we grumble sadly ourselves, and lament over those who are worse off still. A poor sentinel was found dead at his post sometime in the night. Mr Marsh came home from the Court-Ball soon after midnight, waiting only for the King to retire. It differed from other brilliant shows of the kind only in this - that the King talked to several ladies which he has never been known to do but once before on such an occasion. The observed of all observers were Rattazzi and his noted spouse. She occupied a conspicuous seat in the Ball-room and Rattazzi stood by her for the first hour or two, then sat down at her right hand. During the three hours and a half that Mr Marsh was in the room he saw but one person speak to them - a lady whom he did not know. If this is an example of the way in which this interesting couple are treated generally I do not wonder that they are said to make a triste figure everywhere.

[Image] This morning at half past nine a great light passed forever out of our human horizon. - Glorious old Plana has gone to his rest. Great men may arise to fill his place, but the like of him we cannot hope to see again. The city will do everything in her power to show that it is a grievous mourning to her. Another conspicuous person died yesterday the old Marchesa Barolo leaving a magnificent estate, it is said, to the King. It was with this lady that Silvio Pellico passed his last years, acting as her secretary, and it is with the servants of her family that he lies buried. I have taken much pains to ascertain whether this was really done at the earnest request of Pellico himself (as many declare) or whether it was merely the result of those sharp social distinctions which even ten years ago admitted of no modification. One thing is certain - the countess, though her early life was a life of pleasure, has devoted all her later years to the most extensive and noble charities. It is stated on what seems good authority that she has given yearly to the poor in house-rent along the sum of one hundred and forty thousand francs. The poor Marchesa Doria is once more in an almost dying condition - The Countess della Rocca and the Countess Radicati, speaking to us of her today said that she insisted that her sister, the Del Borgo, should go to the Court-Ball Monday evening because she wished to have the pleasure of seeing her toilette - that she hoped herself to be able to go to the next one, although her physicians gave her not the least hope of living through the week. And one of these ladies added - “Pauvre dame, naturellement elle a voulu profitter du peu de vie qui lui reste.” I could find no words to reply to his remark - I was struck dumb - I felt that there was something wider and deeper than the Atlantic between New England and Italy.

The Gajanis, who spent last evening with us say they get the most encouraging letters from home. It was delightful to hear Gajani and his brother talk their beautiful Italian. Vegezzi-Ruscalla brought in his daughter this morning. She talks better than she writes, and on the whole I liked her much. It is amusing to see how both her father and she are swallowed up in Wallachia, both mounted on the same hobby, but it is delightful to see people in earnest about anything. In the evening all went to the Opera except myself.

We went for Mme Gajani, then to Ruscalla’s lecture-room but found there would be no lecture on account of Plana’s funeral We could not see the connection, as this latter was to take place three hours later. After driving round the Piazza d’Armi we left Mme Gajani - and returned home - Gaetano went for his funeral-torch, and this is all we were expected to do by way of honouring the mighty dead. I had scarcely got home when Mme Matteucci came in. She is really a woman of far higher stamp than I had supposed - morally I knew her worth, but her intellect and her accomplishments I had greatly underrated. She keeps her light quite too much under a bushel - thereby losing the social influence she might have which would be invaluable in a place like this. Besides, by making herself purely her husbands drudge, copying for him by night and by day, yielding to all his caprices, and patiently bearing all his sudden outbreaks she has lost her influence in a great measure over him. Thank God, I have no occasion to speak from experience, but it is my firm conviction that those wives who sacrifice themselves in this way to the unreasonable whims of their husbands do a serious injury to the man they wish to benefit, forfeit his respect, and make their own lives useless to him and to themselves. Mme Matteucci is very proud of her husband, and has good reason to be. He is a great man, but he would have a fairer fame if she stood firmly by his side, than he now has when she crouches at his feet. She made me a long visit; we talked of the Brownings with whom she was very intimate - she says the last letter Mrs Browning ever wrote was to her. She also told me of her mother’s (Mrs Young’s) two volume-book on Paleario and his times, and she promises to send it me. The old lady, now eighty I think, made all the vast researches which these books show, herself, and wrote every line of it for the press with her own aged hand. She then went to Cambridge and supervised the printing herself. Cantù has spoken of it with high praise. The Count and Countess Maggiolini came as Mme Matteucci left. The Count is a hard dark-looking man, might be an Italian of Anne Radcliffe’s imagination. - The Countess I fancy has seen storms, but she is evidently a high-spirited woman with good sense enough not to quarrel about trifles, and yet courage enough not to allow her heart to be broken, even by the man who supposes he has established unlimited rights over her by giving her a five-hundred-year-old name, She asked many questions about America and our talk ended by her taking home Paris en Amérique. In the evening we went to hear Bon’ Compagni lecture on Constitutions &c. Everything that verged on the haute société stayed away this evening for fear of hearing something that might shock their nerves. Nothing however could be more calm, more dignified, more free from everything ultra, that was this lecture. He dwelt on the dangers of inconsiderate haste in all questions of reform civil and religious, he maintained the Christian Religion to be the surest guide that man has ever received, or ever could receive, for his course in this life. It had proclaimed the true principles of civil and religious liberty, and had pointed out the way by which these blessings were to be secured. He then went on to show that the parasite superstition was growing in Italy by the side of this glorious plant and sapping out its life, that it was the duty of all great thinkers, of all earnest men, of all true patriots, to try to separate the true from the false, and restore the heaven-descended vine to health and vigour. I have seldom seen a more striking-looking man - His dark piercing eye, his strong square jaw, his firm mouth, contrasted strangely with a trembling of the hand, and an agitation of the voice which indicated great nervous sensibility. He was not fluent, and nevertheless there was something about him which reminded me of Rufus Choate - perhaps it was the nervous manner more than anything else. He made on us the impression of a man who had studied carefully, thought profoundly, and who acted from the highest convictions of duty. Just before the Lecture began Matteucci came and shook hands with me saying with a most gracious smile “Ma femme vous donnera a que vous avez demandé - il y en a une expris pour vous” -. I understood in a moment what it meant. I had asked Mad. M. for an autograph of her husband for the benefit of the Fair for the Sanitary Commission to be held in [illegible] New York in March. He had given it, and one for me personally, Madame M. handed me the envelope, it contained 3 photographs with autograph signatures, 2 for the Fair, one of Massimo d’Azeglio the other of Matteucci, & a third of Matteucci for me. This is a good beginning of our quête and I hope we shall get treasures.

Like the morning of so many other days this passed till dressing-time I cannot say how. Mrs Colonel Mayhew came in almost as soon as I had taken my seat in the drawing-room. The young Countess Colegno, was my only other visitor till evening. This lady spoke affectionately of the Doria, said she did not go to Mrs Elliot’s on her account, &c. She gave me the first intelligible account I have had of the Marchesa’s illness - some having said she was dying of extinction - others of asphyxia. & Madame Colegno says her lungs are very seriously diseased, but water about the heart is the real malady of which she is dying. In the evening all but myself went to hear Ristori in Pia dei Tolomei. I was well repaid for staying at home by the most agreeable company of the Count and Countess Gigliucci. The latter had as much original remark and as much of interesting anecdote as usual. She is really delightful. Her frankness verges on bluntness sometimes, but her conversation is charming even when she expresses opinions very opposite one’s own. She describes herself as a warm immoveable catholic, but no papist. If she but knew it, what she has taken away from catholicism leaves nothing but Protestantism. When I told her where the rest of the family were she said ‘Ah I am sorry for them; - the Ristori of today is not the Ristori of ten years ago; - her acting has become so exaggerated that she who once made my tears flow uncontrolled now only provokes me to laughter - even in the most tragic of tragedies.’ Mr Marsh and Carrie came home with exactly the same impression. Carrie says she made even the death-scene comic. And this the Italians attribute to the influence of French bad-taste

We all went to Church this morning except Charles, but Mr Tottenham’s extempore sermon was by no means one of his best efforts. I was glad to see that Mrs Elliot was not knocked up by her party Friday evening, and was half tempted to give the promise she tried to get from me that I would come to one of the two following Friday-evening gatherings. Mr Marsh went to hear Mr Meille in the afternoon, and was nearly chilled through. They have no fire in the Vaudois church. The Duchess de la Force was announced about four o’clock. She came in a magnificent toilette which was becoming as well, and I have never seen her look so finely. She certainly is a most amiable person - kind to high and low, which makes one ready to forgive her much vanity and folly. She claims cousin-ship with the Malarets. In the evening we read a most interesting article on Vinet in the Revue des Deux Mondes written by a most liberal christian who nevertheless still calls himself a Catholic.

Mrs Tottenham dropped in after one of her morning rounds. She had a nice anecdote from Mad. Gigliucci. A lady caught a roieque rogue trying to pick her pocket in church - she resisted and used some vigorous language in rather audible tones. “Mais, madame” cried the thief, ’il ne faut pas faire tant de bruit dans la maison de Dieu!” While we were out driving the Countess Castellani came with her little daughter Inez, the juvenile poetess and we missed her of course. Early in the evening Baruffi called to talk over his irreparable loss in the death of Plana. Poor man, he feels it deeply and seems to find his best consolation in telling what his friend was. Plana, he says, paid little attention in general to his classes, but once a month perhaps he would call them together for a lecture. At such times he was actually sublime, would take up an idea from the lowest & most hidden depth of man’s nature and draw it out link after link in unbroken sequence till it reached the heavens, and all this in such a fiery heat that the perspiration would stand thick on his forehead, and not unfrequently he would throw off his coat and fling it behind his chair, never pausing however for a moment in the lava-tide of his eloquence. Sometimes his duties as Professor obliged him to examine students and of this he was very impatient. On one of these occasions, a student, who had already been examined by three professors and shown himself utterly incompetent, was brought before Plana. The old man had listened to the previous examinations and was furious that the student had presumed to offer himself for such a trial when he was so profoundly ignorant. “Take your chalk” said the indignant Plana, “draw a horizontal line on the blackboard.” The young man drew a short line. “Continuez, continuez!” He continued the line till it reached the frame of the board. “Continuez, continuez,” still shouted the angry master, and the student passed his line over the frame and along the wall till he reached the open door. Plana all the time crying out “continuez, continuez.” When the poor fellow reached the open space the master shouted, “maintenant, sortez, sortez!” and he disappeared, thankfully no doubt. Another story of his later days has its touching side. This was also on occasion of an examination. A young man was sent to the blackboard to demonstrate a difficult problem. He began well, “Bene, bene, said the professor,”avanti, avanti! benissimo! avanti! bravo!” and in this way he swept on his pupil, till suddenly the the [sic] young man became confused at a certain point, could not collect himself, trembled, turned pale, and Plana in his heat seized the chalk, dashed out what the profe student had done, recommended the demonstra tion carried it on with the rapidity of lightning till he reached the very same point and there, by some strange fatality he became confused himself, lost the thread and could not recover it. After a moment’s pause he exclaimed as he hurled the chalk to the opposite side of the lectureroom, Ecco cosa si guadagna! vivendo fra le bestie s’imbestialisce!” and he immediately went on to speak of something else. After the Abbé left us Mr Marsh went to the ministerial ball - crowded, hot, but most brilliantly decorated - in other respects like other balls -

We took a long drive after a hurried morning at home. All my spare thought & moments are now given to making collections for the Sanitary Fairs. This evening I got the promise of a note from Silvio Pelico from the Countess Castellani whom I took again to Matteucci’s lecture [illegible] Matteucci was more than himself to-night - but we were distracted by the sudden appearance of a notoriety among us quite unlooked for - Madame Rattazzi Solms Bonaparte attended by a woman like unto herself and followed by her pitiable-looking spouse. The lady came in very late wore a maroon-colored velvet dress & cloak, the former trimmed with narrow bands of ermine from the bottom of the skirt to the knee. Around the bottom of the cloak was a [illegible] border of ermine ten inches deep at least. This garment she threw off as soon as she took her seat and disposed in [it] on her chair so as best to display its rich white satin quilted lining. Then too she had an opportunity of showing the taille of her dress a la jockey trimmed likewise with ermine. As soon as she had finished adjusting herself she raised her eye glass, in her whitegloved-hand covered with rings, and surveyed the audience with a look of cool impudence such as I never before saw in man or woman - it was sublime in its scornful indifference. The image of the Great King of Babylon had less brass in it than this creature carries in her face. Poor Rattazzi sat not far off, his serpentine head drapped now on this shoulder, now on that. Is she pretty, beautiful? Her expression is so vulger that it is almost a sacrilege to apply such terms to her and yet I can see that a heart & a conscience would have made her most beautful - no, I must add also the training of a lady, for as she is she does not know how to use her handkerchief without giving offense to good breeding.

The Countess Gigliucci brought me some treasures for the N. York S. C. Fair, among them a long letter to her husband from Gioberti, the signature only in his hand She promises more nice things and I know she will keep word. While she was still with me the Countess Collegno was announced - one of those true souls that come out glorious from the trial by fire. She is much younger than her sister the Marquesa Arconati and has in some respects had a wider experience. In speaking of her own life she says she was never happy happier than when her husband, an exile, supported her in Paris by giving lessons and when she never had more than one servant for her modest apartment and when she opened the door to her visitors herself! She knows many Americans and loves them, but it is our antislavery heroes & martyrs for whom she kindles into admiration. The Gasparins she knows personally and praised unboundedly. One might expect her religious predju prejudices would make her less sensible of their great merits, but it is not so. She left me with a promise to send an autograph of Manzoni for the great Fair. The Brows [Browns] came as she went out - their odd mother must have furnished them with their brains, of a commodity they do not lack. - I sent C. to the Regio with Mme Bartoleyns and went to bed early & tired & [illegible] lost a visito visit from my chatty friend Miss Arbesser by the in consequence.

After a great many ineffectual efforts at combination Mr Marsh and I succeeded in getting to Mr Meille’s three o’clock lecture at the little room used by the English on Sunday - Carrie in the meantime driving about to leave packages, cards, &c. The lecture was an interesting one, and the first prayer one of the most beautiful in every respect that I have ever heard. On our return we found new sets of cards implying more work of course.

I was not well this morning but did not like to miss Ruscalla’s lecture, so took Mme Gajani there as usual. The Countess Piola came with Miss Ruscalla, and asked to be presented to me after the Lecture. She did not interest me in the least, though her features were very peculiar, a large, full, cold, grey eye, shaded by black lashes and thick black eyebrows. Her hair also was very black and a very unmistakable black moustache fringed her upper lip. I should have taken her for a Neapolitan - never certainly for a Hollendaise. Yet this is the woman who some twenty years ago agitated the little kingdom of Piedmont by running away from her Protestant father, then Minister from Holland at this Court, and taking refuge in a convent. Though it was perfectly understood that the young lady’s object in abandoning her father’s house and the religion in which she was educated, was to marry Count Piola, a connection her father opposed, yet even the Carlo Alberto himself admitted that once in a convent he had no power to reach her. On hearing this admission from the lips of the King himself the indignant Minister said - ’Then your Majesty must pardon me if I refuse longer to represent my country at a court where the Kingly power power is ineffectual to protect me and my family. Accordingly he resigned his post, but oddly enough his son, Heldewier, now represents the Dutch government here.

While preparing to go last evening to hear Bon Compagni, I was suddenly taken ill and obliged to go directly to my bed. Mr Marsh and Carrie went to the Lecture at my earnest entreaty, but the Elliot ball was given up. I should have mentioned yesterday that the poor Marchesa Doria passed away Thursday night at midnight, and in the night last night the body was removed to the chapel at Montallo, one of the family seats. There was no ceremony of any kind here, partly it is said in order that the Carnival gaities may not be saddened. Carrie received the Menabreas today, but other visits were declined. Madame Gigliucci sent in more nice things for the fair. She is really a noble creature. Mr Marsh and Carrie passed the evening at her house, and she sang to them most delightfully. Among her treasures she has two copies of verses by Charles Lamb in his own hand - one is addressed to her individually as Saint Clare, the other to the Sisters Novello. She has an Album too containing lines from Coleridge, Capital things from Leigh Hunt etc.

After church Mr Marsh read to me as usual, but I felt almost too weak and ill to listen, and was hardly sorry when he was called back to his Library by gentlemen visitors. In the evening he went to a diplomatic dinner at the Malarets.

Another weary wasted day in bed, and made still more trying by visitors whom I could not receive. Husband went to the Court Ball in the evening, taking Mr Artoni in his new uniform with which he is much pleased. The Ball was far more brilliant than the first.

I managed to lie on the sofa near the window long enough to settle up the monthly accounts, & then returned to my bed tired out. In the evening Mr Marsh and Carrie were to have gone to Brofferio’s Lecture, but the former did not feel well after dinner and it was given up. Worse still - we missed a visit from Dall’Ongaro who came after the Lecture and found us shut up.

I fled to Carrie’s room to get away from the dancing-lesson, and the visitors it brings. I was sorry to be obliged to refuse to see the Countess Gigliucci, but could not help it. The great excitement of the last two or three days has been the actual breaking out of hostilities between the Germans and the Danes, but nobody thinks the strife will go far just at present. England will be guilty of any meanness rather than oppose Prussia and Austria by arms. She will see Denmark basely cut to pieces and never stir. - At the same time she tells Italy - ‘Yes you have a right to Venice, but if you presume to strike a blow to get it, we shall help Austria defend herself against you.’ Great and just England! Besides the dancers the Castagnettos payed Carrie a visit, and the abbé Baruffi and Mr Clay helped the rest of the family off with the evening while I moped on my sofa in my own room.

This morning I took my old place on the sofa in the drawing room, but only in wrapper & shawl. The day is lovely and the gentlemen have taken advantage of it for a long walk. Dr Monnet comes to propose to take Carrie to the Regio tonight. Miss Arbesser passed the evening with me in her usual good spirits, but mentioned some circumstances about her health which give me great anxiety. She has kept secret consequences of a slight accident at Naples six months ago until I greatly fear a very serious result. She is to see a physician Sunday morning. Among the small gossip of the evening Miss Arbesser told us some anecdotes of her little princess not without interest. Her monthly allowance in pocket-money is ten francs, and out of this she has to furnish herself with drawing pencils - also if she wishes to make Christmas presents to friends, or any other gifts they must be saved out of this sum in the course of the year. Little Madame Marguerite laid aside last year two francs every month to make Miss Arbesser a New Year’s present, and scarcely anything of the rest was spent upon her own pleasures. This winter, having little or nothing to give to the poor she and prince Thomas gathered up what they could spare from among their books and playthings, put them into a Lottery, sold the tickets to the little Marchesine and Marchesini, Contessine and Contessini who are now allowed to dance and play with them, and in this way they raised about 200 francs!

Brother Charles is quite ill today from a cold taken yesterday. We are all feeling rather blue, but Mr Marsh and Carrie had to go to a Ball nevertheless, at the Elliots, - very grand and gay.

I was vexed beyond measure to find that old Peter Browne had made Mr Marsh promise to come and dine with him this evening. The silly old hypocrite who ought to be totally suppressed, thinks he makes up for his impertinent arrogance in talking of American affairs, by asking Mr Marsh to dine with him! - In general I have small concern in watching over our personal dignity, but in this case I wish Mr Marsh had declined. Luckily Dall’Ongaro’s Lecture for tonight is given up or it would have been a double penance to have dined with old Peter, and missed the poet in consequence Brother Charles is not better, and we feel very anxious.

Contrary to all our habits Mr Marsh and Carrie went to a Ball tonight at the Roràs. Mr Marsh felt there were reasons why it would not do to decline, so they went for a couple of hours coming home at twelve. The beautiful Marchesa was almost outshone by her still more beautiful sister in law the Countess. So these little things take up our time and thoughts while the flames of war are blazing in the North, and while even the very men and women here who are the gayest would not be surprised at any moment to hear the canon in their own frontier.

We are so happy to see Charles better this morning. We had an unusually quiet day and all were rejoiced to be allowed to stay at home for one evening, and be left to ourselves too.

Mrs Tottenham came in early with Madeline and we had a nice talk which we have not had for a long time before. She is severe in her judgment (an unusual thing for her) of the Duchess de la Force, and says Mrs Elliot is greatly annoyed at being obliged to receive her, her cousin-ship to the Malarets making it unavoidable. Mrs T_ . thinks she has positive evidence that the duchess, after repeated attempts, managed to cajole Garibaldi into her apartment, in a secret cabinet of which, she had concealed a French officer, and in this way every word the hero said was transmitted to the Emperor. If I believed that this woman [illegible] was really a spy of Louis Napoleon I would sooner see a serpent than her; but these English are so besotted with the idea their suspicions about French spies that one must not trust too much to their testimony. At any rate I have never felt like courting the duchess, and am naturally enough not the more drawn towards her after this Garibaldi story. In one thing at least I could enter into Mrs T__ ‘s feelings - - the Denmark affair mortifies her extremely, and she says her son in the navy writes that if England is not willn willing to eat still more dirt he shall soon be sent to the Baltic. I wanted to add: ’England will eat more dirt’ - but I had too much respect for the feelings of this dear good woman. Saint as she is she was a little ruffled by her morning’s adventure. She had been to the Hotel Féder to see Mrs __ a more than millionaire, that lady wishing her to go out shopping with her. After detaining Mrs T__. more than an hour while she attended to some trifling matters, the rich dame ordered a lunch of bread and butter and vin ordinaire. When they had eaten what they liked the wealthy witch spent a quarter of an hour in gathering up the fragments and locking them up together with the third part of the bottle of wine, “for,” said she, “these scraps and this bit of wine ye know’ll do for my supper.” !!! The Gajanis spent the evening with us till Mr Marsh and Carrie went to spend the remainder of the night at the Pasolinis. At midnight carnival died, and was burned, amidst the roar of small arms and the flying of fireworks. I wish it were indeed the end of the carnival, but the gala corso is still to come off. Mr Marsh and Carrie thought the masking and the comic procession very indifferent on Monday, - they did not go to the Coriandoli today. Mrs Gajani brought me an autograph from Dall’ Ongaro. She is very active for the fair - has got a capital letter from Silvio Pellico among other things.

We did not go to church this morning partly because it was so bitter cold. The Countess Gigliucci entertained me for an hour in her best way. Miss Arbesser passed the evening with us. She says that the Marquis della Rovere told her that when he and the Marquise were at Pegli last summer they found themselves just opposite the Rattazzis at the Tâble d’hôte. Mme Rattazzi immediately inquired of her husband who Mme della Rovere was. Rattazzi tried to keep her quiet, but finally was obliged to say that it was the Marquise della Rovere. “Pas grand’ chose, n’est-ce-pas?” said this scion of the House of Napoleon.

Husband left this morning for Milan the King goes this afternoon. There will be gay times there no doubt. The Countess Collegno brought her niece Miss Trotti to see Carrie. This young lady is a granddaughter of Manzoni, a nice girl who speaks English very prettily. Mme Collegno’s visit was delightful to me. We talked of so many mutual acquaintances - Mme Ossoli, the Brownings, the Brooks, &c. &c. This lady has all that is most charming in the Italian character with that wider experience which enriches life so vastly - She told me much of Manzoni who spends some months with the Arconatis every summer. She says his shyness towards strangers arises from the fact that his trifling conversations with them have been so often noted down and printed. With his intimate friends however he is most genial, his conversation being still full of wit and sprightliness. At this advanced age (78) nothing escapes his observation; not even a lady’s toilette. His heavy family trials have greatly affected him, but they have not broken him down. His lovely wife died when his children were all young, leaving two sons and five daughters. Of the last, all but one died before the age of twenty four. Neither of the sons have done him credit. The oldest, the least unworthy married a danseuse. Morally the poor girl has done well, but without education, without the manners of a lady what a daughter-in-law for Manzoni. This son however lives with him. The other (says Mme Collegno) has sunk far lower, has trailed the great name of Manzoni in the dust - in short has done all a young man could do to break his father’s heart, But above all this the noble old man has risen. At times he is deeply depressed, but generally cheerful and contented.

Mrs Gajani and I decided on a drive instead of going to Ruscalla’s Lecture as we have found it impossible to understand him at his last readings, he holding his manuscript just before his mouth and articulating very rapidly. The Opinione this morning has a most warlike article, in which England is hit very hard. In fact the war fever is spreading very fast. Austria continues to make new and more threatening demonstrations on the Italian frontier every day. Even Gajani who is a peaceman just now, thinks war probable. Returning from our drive I stopped below to pay a visit to Mme Ghirardi - alias the Marquise d’Angennes. Poor thing She is in great distress about her son, first because he has run away with a danseuse, and second because she is afraid if he comes back it will only be to be off again to the wars. I tried to comfort her, but there is little comfort to be given to a mother under such circumstances - . “Ah,” said she, “I am working so hard to save my fortune for my children, I am ruining my health, and breaking my heart for them, and they - they are so ungrateful.” She really seems thankful to us for not tormenting her with our wants about the house, and graciously told me that I was an angel not to complain more than I have done. In the evening C. and I went for the Countess Castellani, and then with her to the Lecture. The subject was; The Revelations of Light, - and Prof. Govi was delightfully clear and eloquent. His experiments were generally successful, and many of them beautiful - . The hall was crowded to overflowing, many stood and many went away. These Lectures are now a decided success, and the only danger is that they will be given so frequently as to lessen or destroy the interest in them. I had the Countess Collegno at my side, and she managed to find time to tell me of Mme Arconati’s unsuccessful trip to Nervi to cure a sore throat. She was overtaken by a snowstorm before arriving at Genoa, detained there, and nearly perishing with the cold.

We all worked over our old autographs the whole morning - I might say the whole day, for nobody came to disturb us till evening. We shall really have a very rare and curious collection to send to the N.Y. fair for the San. Com. In the evening the abbé Baruffi came to report progress. He too will get quite a nice collection. Carrie read Kalewala to me after he left. I really enjoy it almost more than on the first reading.

After we returned from church Mr Valerio came to see me and added many curious particulars to the life of the Marchesa Barolo, as given by the canonico - in the Gazetta Ufficiale. There her family, her beauty, her talents her wealth, and her charity are made conspicuous as they well deserve to be, and her superstitions are kept out of sight. It was she however who discovered the relics of Saint Philomene, brought the bones from Rome, placed them under her bed, and was in this way entirely cured of the Cataleptic attacks to which she had been previously subject. The bones were then brought out for public adoration, then covered with wax so as to represent a handsome young woman, and this image was placed in a rich sarcofagus with glass sides, the figure within being dressed in magnificent robes and adorned with precious stones. The Jesuits carried off the adornments and the votive offerings when they fled from Turin in ’48, but the wax and bones were left. It does seem sad indeed that a woman of so much talent and so many virtues should have fallen in to such a miserable folly as this. Valerio also gave me an interesting account of his early life in Turin, of Lorenzo’s establishing a small paper here, of his difficulties with the government in general and Count Lazzari, the chef de police, in particular - of Carlo Alberto’s anger about a speech he made at the meeting of an agricultural society, and of many other things connected with the good old time that might afford lessons to many an American grumbler. He also explained how it was that some thirty of the famous old families here were now very poor.

Mr Marsh came home from Milan about one, The King’s visit there went off extremely well. There were a great many blunders about invitations and little points of etiquette, but nothing that led to serious trouble. Out of respect to the democratic feeling of Milan nobody wore uniforms - not even to the court Ball or the Court dinner - At the dinner Mr Marsh had Prince Amadeo on one Hand, & General Menabrea on the other - He think the Prince has excellent sense, and is quite of the Carlo Alberto type. Menabrea is always agreeable. Her Royal Highness explained the diminished magnificence of dress and equipage at Milan by the fact of the failure of the silk and wine for so many years - The throwing of the confetti was very lively - the French Legation joined Mr Marsh on his balcony the first day bringing with them more than fifteen bushels of plaster of Paris confetti. These gentlemen all wore their roughest hunting suits, and, to use Mr Marsh’s expression, they screamed and

yelled like pirates,’ as they pelted the unhappy people in the streets and on the opposite and neighboring balconies. The next day Mr Marsh furnished the fifteen bushels of coriandoli and the Frenchmen diverted themselves immensely as on the day before. There are few things that would more astonish a sober New Englander than to see for the first time a whole city gone mad in this way, but it is surprising how soon one feels disposed to take part in the frolic - One car amused Mr Marsh very much. The chief personage in it represented the Arch-duke Maximilian, and the car bore the inscription Via pel Messico!

Worked all day nearly in sorting out autographs for the fair, and were fortunate in having fewer interruptions than usual, the Countesses Maggiolini and Giletta being the only ones. In the evening Doctor Monnet came to look after Mr Marsh who had last night one of his not infrequent attacks of suffocation, and by far the most terrible one he has ever had. The Dr. confirms our belief that it was purely mechanical, arising from the falling of the palate, or, as he calls it the [illegible] louette, though I could see plainly that he feared it was a symptom of advanced heart-disease.

The war-talk grows louder and louder, The Ministry here is thought to be shaky and some even dream of Ricasoli’s return. This reminds me to make a record of a most delicately turned note which I received from him yesterday inclosing some photographs with his signature. Some talk of Rattazzi as possibly the next Minister, and argue this partly because the King spoke to Madame in Milan. I hope Italy is not reduced to this yet. Today we have had some fine presents for the fair - a very nice gun which is supposed to be from Garibaldi - twenty photographs from him with his signature and with a beautiful note. - some most interesting autographs from Signor Migliavacca of Milan - some fine engravings from the editors of the Politecnico - also some water colour copies from Albani - and one beautiful photograph of the Il Moderno Caino. V. Vela also has sent us some photographs of his charming works. Most of these things we owe to the zeal of Col. Ripetti. Husband, also, has got a shy at the Marchesa della Rocca, who wrote this morning to ask a favour of him which he grants cheerfully with the intimation that she can do as much for him in return by looking up autographs etc. This evening while the Abbé Baruffi with his Norwegian friend Lieblein were with us, the Gajanis came in. It seemed a pleasant meeting between the Abbé & Gajani, the latter reminding the former of many services received from him in past years. Little Lieblein professes to have made interesting discoveries in the Egyptian Museum, does not believe in Lepsius’ chronology etc

Worked all of us the whole day for the fair. In the evening C. went with the countess Colegno and Miss Trotti to the V. Emanuel. Preston Powers passed the evening with us.

Gave orders to receive no one and worked uninterruptedly in preparing our box for N. Y. The only visit it grieved me to miss was Madame Rothan’s. Ibbotson & Powers dined with us. The former I have not seen before since his wedding-day with Julie Powers. He is a very pleasing young man & gave us an interesting account of his iron-works at Sheffield.

We were just in time with our box for the messagerie this evening. Miss Arbesser came in at half past nine to pass the evening just as I was thinking I might safely go to bed with my aching head & eyes!

Two feet of snow have fallen since yesterday morning. It ceased before noon, but not a carriage was astir through the day except the Sindic’s - Roca’s. Young Kossuth however managed to get to us, and Dr Monnet in the evening. Really this winter is quite extraordinary.

Klapka spent an hour with husband this morning, talking over European Politics with the greatest freedom. His hopes are not high. He says the only hope chance of any good is that Italy will make war on Austria now. Otherwise the golden opportunity is lost and perhaps forever. Hungary, now ready to rise at the least encouragement from Italy, will soon be compelled by the terrible family famine now prevailing there to submit to an accommodation with Austria. Then Austria will carry out the programme agreed upon, as he thinks, by herself, Prussia & Russia - viz, rush down upon Italy and crush out if possible the spirit of nationality and progress, and restore the old order of things. This may not be so difficult with no Hungary to kindle a backfire & with Rome [illegible] clutching at the heart of the new kingdom. The French Emperor (with whom he has, as every knows frequent interviews) will not, he says, aid Italy further than to secure Lombardy to Piedmont that is, to protect for her the property he gave as purchase money for Savoy. He thinks England less likely to interfere at present in favour of Austria than she would have been fo before the Denmark invasion - at any rate there is no prospect of a more favorable moment and he hopes the Italians may seize this, though he is by no means confident that they will do so. The first step, he says, is to bring about a good understanding between Garibaldi & this government – a sine qua non to success in a conflict with Austria. He put Garibaldi where we do among the formost rank of heroes, patriots & soldiers. “His age does not know him.” The estimation Mr M. has long felt for Klapka as a man of great talent and noble purpose was not diminished by this interview Unlike most agitators (a class I respect generally) he is singularly practical as even the Conservatives admit. The weather did not secure me against lady-visitors as I hoped it would.

My housekeeper informed me last evening that there was a kitchen-feud had arisen which must end in the dismissal of the cook’s handmaid. In the course of the explanation a circumstance came up which diverted me not a little. This woman complained of bad treatment at the hands of the cook’s wife who, [illegible] she says, is jealous of her, and as a proof of this she asserts that Susanne forbid Carlo to speak to her and ordered him, whenever she (the wife) was not in the kitchen, to whistle in order that she might hear him & be sure he was not talking! The fact of the almost constant whistling was proved, but the positive order could not be proved substantiated as Carlo & Susanne could not be asked to testify in so delicate a case! Carrie went this morning to ask little Miss Trotti to go with her in the evening to the Teatro Regio with her uncle to take charge of the two. Mme Collegno said that she should like much to have her go if there was to be a matron in the box - otherwise it would not be well received! She added very politely that strangers always went in the way I had proposed, and this being well understood nobody criticized it, but for her niece she was sorry to say, it would not do. With all I have previously learned of the stupidity of their convenance here, I was not prepared for this - that a man of over sixty - of Mr Marsh’s character and position - should not be a sufficient protection for his own niece and a little friend of hers, still a school-girl!

The Countess Gigliucci sat with me through the dancing-lesson, which the girls managed to spin out to a three-hour one. Almost anyone else would have tired me, but she, bright soul, earnest and gay at once, never tires. Even the occasional liberties she takes with English have something so free and fresh about them that they make her more than less agreeable. In short everything about her is so perfectly natural, so genuine, so hearty, that I constantly ask myself: “Is it possible that this woman has passed so many years of her life on a stage?’ If it is by their fruits that they are to be known, the theatrical education would certainly carry off the palm from the conventual one. We discussed the Germans pretty thoroughly in their present robber-raid into Denmark, and sympathized with each other heartily. The position of the princess of Wales, the Countess thinks most pitiable. She gives her husband credit for very little brains, and says the German influence in England will control him completely. Of the invitation to the Arch-duke Maximilian to be present at the baptism of the son of the Prince and princess of Wales, she said - What an insult to that young mother! The brother of the very man who is eating out the heart of her native land, and threatening to drive her father from his Kingdom. She also commented with much severity on the course of the Princes of Wales and Prussia, two Protestants coming to Italy and passing by the chosen King of that country, hurrying on to Rome to pay their humble duty to a “dazed old pope” and to a detested ex-king. “I am a Catholic” she added “but I don’t respect a member of the Gustav-Adolph-Verein the more for going to pay court to this crazy old Pope.” Miss Arbesser came after I was in bed, but I adopted the fashion of the country for once, and saw her in my nightcap. She was quite dismayed when I told her that Mme Collegno thought Miss Trotti could not go with Carrie under Mr Marsh’s protection, ’I must have committed some terrible improprieties, but in Vienna where we carry convenance quite far enough such an idea would be thought supremely ridiculous. The poor little Princess Marguerite said this evening with a sigh “I wonder where I shall have to go when I am grown - I wish it might be to Brazil for there I could amuse myself with monkeys and parrots!” Poor child, may you be so happy! Something was added by Miss Arbesser with “if you should live….” “Live!” said the child, “I had rather you wouldn’t speak to me about death now - I think enough of that when I am alone.” “Alone!” said the astonished gouvernante “but you are never alone!” “Oh yes, I am alone when I say my prayers, and I am alone when I go to sleep - that is, nobody is very near me, and nobody speaks to me.”

The countess Collegno put to flight my first visitor, & the Browns put her to flight in return, much to my annoyance as she was interesting me so much by her charming conversation. Oh ye Sligos! I did not present the young ladies to the Countess Collegno, but knowing their habits of making unfavourable comments upon all who come under their eye, I took care to say as she passed out - ’That lady I count among my best friends in Turin.” “Ah, who is she then?” said the youngest, and on hearing the name the eldest exclaimed “Oh, I thought she was like Mme Arconati, and Mme __, such ugly faces!” “They are past the age of being handsome,’ I said, ‘so far as mere beauty of outline goes certainly, but the expression of both the sisters whom I know is so refined, so benevolent, and so intelligent at once, that it would be a pleasure to me to look at them, even independently of their delightful talk.’ “But they have such odious manners!”, said the eldest Miss Brown again. At this I expressed the greatest surprise, insisting with a degree of spirit that I felt decidedly getting up to the boiling point that I found their manners always ladylike, always courteous, and in all respects to my taste.’ “Then,” said the youngest “perhaps you like stuck-up manners.” As the impertinence was now directed against me instead of my friends I felt calmer at once. “No, I do not like stuck-up manners if I understand what you mean by the phrase, and yet I like the manners of the ladies we are talking of.’ Here the youngest Miss Brown seemed to think she might have gone too far, and said – “Perhaps you don’t visit them in their own house. It is there they are so disagreeable. I wonder people ever cross their thresh hold twice”. Here I changed the subject so abruptly that I intended they should take it as a rebuke and think they did. In a moment more we were talking of the practice of having reception-days &c. &c. The young ladies declaimed with much warmth against this practice, and declared that they would no longer pay visits on these occasions, as they found that everywhere the ladies did nothing but abuse each other - a habit which they thought as ill bred as unchristian. Had these young ladies been as brainless as their old father I should not have been surprised at these expressions of condemnation of evil-speaking, even so close upon their amiable comments on the Marchesa Arconati and her sisters. As it was I could not quite restrain a look of astonishment, but they were too much interested in their new subject to notice my look or my silence. They proceeded to inform me that the Piedmontese ladies could not talk anything but slander when they got together - that they were themselves so thoroughly shocked at them in this respect that they had almost entirely ceased to visit them. “Perhaps,’ I said ‘I have seen too little of them to be placed on a footing of sufficient familiarity to allow them to talk so freely before me, but I must say that for myself I have heard very little evil speaking from any of them.’ The young ladies went on to assert that it must be because I had not been to these morning receptions - furthermore that nobody could know anything about the Turinese without very special opportunities - that they were to the last degree untidy in their habits, that the ladies neither washed nor dressed except when they went out, - that as soon as they returned home they put on some vile old rag for a dress instead of the fine gown just shown in the street - that they sat down to dinner in this way - that their servants were on a par with themselves for cleanliness, - that they were too mean to light their fires or have the gas burning on their staircases or in their drawing rooms unless when guests were expected - that they used old pewter spoons and forks habitually instead of their silver which was put away for some quarterly festa, that as soon as the spring came they dismissed all their grand servants, & took a housemaid or two into the country with them “where they live like disgusting pigs as they are.” Anxious lest my amiable visitors might reproach themselves after they left if I allowed this thing to go on, I here abruptly asked them if they had read Renan’s Life of Jesus which had made such a noise in Italy. This corner, which was even a more sharp turn than the first threw them somewhat off the track, and we managed to let our neighbors alone for the rest of the visit. How often we have occasion to see the great truth exemplified that the good and the bad qualities are always found more or less mingled together. These young ladies, who certainly put themselves this morning in a most unfavourable light, are charitable to the poor, are self-denying in performing their duties towards them, and I believe really do much good in that way. Their snarling, fault-finding language about others seems a sort of family habit, and I do not think there is real ill-feeling at the bottom, disagreeable as it makes them to others. Mr Marsh dined with the Elliots, and the Moriondos spent the evening with us, and didn’t talk about their neighbors either, though they are Turinese, and the lady’s bright face was not suffering for want of water. Mr Moriondo told us that the phenomenon of red snow had been seen within a day or two near Vergato. He is much pleased with the various seeds Mr Marsh has given him from Washington, and promises to look out well for them next spring.

For the first time in Turin I received a lady in my bed-room this morning - the dear old Marchesa Arconati, and having done this I could not refuse the Countess Gigliucci in the evening though sadly against my judgment so far as health is concerned. She was admirably entertaining as usual, but I was flushed and tired when she left. She gave a picture of Isabella of Spain that really made one’s flesh quiver. It was drawn as she saw her when she sang at the Court of Madrid. Her sketch of Cardinal Wiseman with his bloated person, in black cassock lined with red, with red gloves, and here and there a red stripe about him, looking more like a mountebank that a prelate, and followed by

some thirty quasi-monks and nuns, was one I should not have expected from a good Catholic. The girls returned from the Lecture on the steam-engine not over edified, - the poor young man succeeded in sending off two out of his eight female auditors, and nearly half the gentlemen before he concluded.

The Marquis de Cavour died very suddenly yesterday, having been in church it is said at twelve o’clock and expiring at two - apoplexy it is thought. His son, who succeeds to the title is in Paris. The report of Dr. Livingstone’s assassination is most likely true, though there is some faint hope it may not be so. The acceptance of the proposal for a conference made by England to Austria and Prussia will probably secure the termination of the Northern quarrel; It will be done however by forcing Denmark to sacrifice the Duchies, for this is what they call “preserving the integrity of Denmark”! I was glad Mr Marsh happened to be in during Levi’s visit this morning. It is curious to see how these poor Italian’s catch at straws. As the chance of a favourable opportunity for doing anything this spring diminishes, they are beginning to look forward with hope to the moment when we shall turn on England, and demand reparation for the wrongs done us. In this way they flatter themselves England may be kept from interfering in behalf of Austria, should they try to recover Venice. It would be some consolation if England could be made to hear the scorn and the curses which are heaped upon her by the liberal party in Europe. Levi had just received Dr Sargeant’s pamphlet. He begs that we will have something done to make the history of our war better known in Italy. I told him I had just written to Dr Lieber on the subject. Castillia came in this evening just as Mr Gajani and his brother went out - dear old saint that he is! His deafness afflicts him greatly, but it has not abated his noble enthusiasm in every great cause. His affection for our country is very touching, He told us, rather an interesting anecdote of Manzoni during the embargo days. The poet obtained some cotton seeds, nursed the plants tenderly in his own garden, and then had the produce manufactured into a counterpane for his own bed.

A rainy day today - Carrie only, going to church. We were quite alone through the whole day, and had some nice quiet reading. By the way husband is much interested in Tomaseo’s Life of Vieusseux, as being not only the sketch of the life of a remarkable man, but as containing so much of the literary history of Italy during this last half century.

The brightest, softest of Spring mornings, our birds are screaming with delight. Leone, the nightingale being particularly stormy. - Poor fellow, he has lost his mate through the carelessness of the housemaid who refuses to testify against herself, leaving the face of Bice somewhat in the dark. Not feeling strong enough to to venture out twice to-day, I chose the evening that I might hear Matteucci’s lecture. He had an admirable audience but he rattled on with such volubility, indicating only, not performing, his experiments, that it was very difficult to follow him - even the natives complained bitterly & to us barbarians it was harder still. Dear good Madame Collegno was by me, and was quite in raptures about Mme Rothan whom she had met the evening before at her sister Arconatis.

We took a long drive this morning with Mrs Gajani. The Piazza d’Armi was very gay - the society being gathered there either walking or driving. On returning I found I had had one visitor whom I always regret to miss - Marchesa Arconati. In the evening we were quite alone.

I felt so dull this morning that I should have been so glad to be warranted against any visits - even those ordinarily most agreeable. Just as I was going to dress however a note was handed me to ask if I would receive, an hour later, the Countess Pasolini, brought by Mme Arconati. The ladies came, and I found the countess a very charming person as everybody had already told me I should. They talked a good deal of American celebrities, among them, of Miss Fuller (Mme Ossoli, for whom Mme Arconati seemed to have entertained a decided friendship. Mme Pasolini had seen her but once “toute ébourifée, et enfin, très extraordinaire.” I should have mentioned a delightful visit from Mr Meille yesterday - a most saintly man, whom one can love and admire immensely in spite of his extreme Calvinism, which in him, at least, works only charity. He gave us a very tempting account of Bonnet’s Life of Olimpia Olympia Morata which he is to send us. Other visitors during the dancing-lesson, but not of special interest

Went to Mr Meille’s Lecture to-day at three. Found on returning a note from the Countess Castellani, containing an autograph letter from Silvio Pellico, for the New York Fair. While we were at dinner Cerutti sent in some very valuable autographs with a promise of more tomorrow. We amused ourselves in the evening with Kalawala which Carrie is reading aloud.

The papers this morning contain some curious developements which surprise nobody, but which have called out another contemptible exhibition of English swagger as to what they will do, when everybody knows they will do nothing if they can help it. A note from the Prussian premier to the English govt government, dated as early as the 12th of December declares that Germany will never leave Denmark in peace until the latter renounces her present democratic tendencies. Here then the secret is out, if secret there was, and the motives of Germany are frankly acknowledged. The Italian journals see plainly enough that the Germans mean war upon what they call democracy in Italy as well as in Denmark, and I trust Italy will not be taken unprepared. There is something astounding in the boldness with which the temporal and spiritual tyrannies are now giving battle everywhere to liberty and progress. Is it because they feel that it is now or never with them, that liberty and light are growing too powerful to be resisted if not resisted now, or is it that they really feel themselves endued with new strength, and better capable than ever before of bringing a sure triumph of the

Kingdom of Darkness. That our national calamities have had much to do with this attempt to crush out democratic principles in Europe, all the liberalists believe. In the evening we heard Filippi lecture - that is we heard the first part of every sentence - the last being uttered in an inaudible whisper.

A dark rainy day, which, however, did not prevent the Marchesa Mari from bringing back Paris en Amérique herself. She declared that it had greatly amused her, and, it was plain, it had given her some new ideas. In the evening the Davisson party took tea with us, also Mr Clay and Artoni. Miss Arbesser came in later. She can’t shake off the night-mare of spiritism, and assures us that Usudom is no less a believer than Brassier himself, that de Bunsen is in the same category though he is ashamed to own it. Her friends from Vienna write her that Liebig is a thorough convert to this most ridiculous humbug. It would seem incredible, if we had not all heard as strange things. Dr Weber has the good sense to see through it, He has been a constant witness of all the phenomena which have so addled the brain of Brassier, and yet he pronounces the whole thing a cheat or a delusion - sometimes both.

A bad headache kept me from church and also from seeing the Kossuths who paid their usual Sunday visit. They say they shall not get ten times as much as Mr Marsh has given them individually for the starving Hungarians, in all Turin, but they are determined to send their subscription paper to every family of wealth and position. The heirs of the great Cavour estates have given fifty francs towards feeding four millions of starving human beings. In these Catholic Countries people not only have their religion done for them by their priests, but they expect the Church somehow to look out for their charities as well, - and the church has to provide for itself first of course, and the consequence is that the poor are left to die as they may. Received a very kind note this evening from Mrs Elliot, another from Madame Rothan, who, I am sorry to find, goes to Nervi now for some weeks.

Mrs Elliot spent an hour with me this afternoon, and I am sure we shall be very good friends if we can manage to meet a little oftener. She is very unaffected in her manners, has that pleasing freedom from self-consciousness that often strikes one in English-women. Luckily for me, Mme Arconati failed in making the arrangement she wished about the rehearsal at the Regio, so that I was not obliged to go. We hesitated about Matteucci’s Lecture, but fortunately made up our minds to stay at home, as a little later the Abbé Baruffi came in, bringing with him the modest Lieblein, and the famous historian - Cantù. We were much pleased to make the acquaintance of this man. He made no secret of his codino propensities, spoke of the time when they so much needed more liberty here than they had, and lamented that now they were pushing the thing too fast and too far. He was very lively in his conversation, full of point, and though free in the expression of his own opinions, careful not to come harshly in contact with his interlocutor. We talked of Maximilian’s new Empire among other things, and he quite agrees with us as to its prospects. Among his enquiries about Americans was one for Mrs Beckerstoff, (Beecher Stowe) whom he says he knew pretty well in Florence. He spoke particularly of the theology in her Minister’s Wooing. which she had given him, and when I told him that her sister had taken the bull by the horns, as we say, and written directly on theological subjects without taking the trouble to weave her opinions into a novel he could not restrain a rather strong expression of surprise. It was not open disapprobation however, though I should not like to say that there was nothing of this sort in his mind. I hope he speaks English, in which case I shall have much pleasure in talking with him on some subjects where I know we should differ very widely, but I have not confidence enough to venture on earnest discussions either in French or Italian with so superior a man. I can declare myself democratic acharné when he talks conservatism, but to defend my position even as well as I might in English, I could not.

Madame Giletta brought her sister-in-law the Countess della Chiesa, and daughter to pay us a visit, and they were only gone long enough for the drawing-room to be thrown into confusion by men who came to take off the double windows, when fresh visitors were announced, - the Countess Collegno and niece. I always feel refreshed and encouraged after an hour’s talk with this noble woman. I was glad to find she is in correspondence with Madame Gasparin . One of the brightest signs of promise in this day, is that the most superior minds, and the largest hearts are so easily brought in contact with each other. In this way they learn to understand better their differences of opinion, their sympathies are enlarged, and a union of aim is effected. The Gajanis passed the evening with us.

This morning I received from Cantù his photograph (which I had asked for the Fair) with a sentence at the bottom so à propos that I should be glad to substitute the sum for which the photograph will sell at the Fair, for the photograph itself. Mr Artoni comes in with a report that Garibaldi is in the city, that a rapprochement is about taking place between him and the government. If this is true it will do more to deter Austria from attacking Italy than all the English diplomacy could do even were it in earnest. Artoni also tells us of the fray between the papal and the French soldiers in which the latter lost some forty men killed or disabled, while the bystanders pelted both the contending parties with stones. Mr Fogg spent an hour or two with Mr Marsh this morning, and threw some important light on the course of the great Wead and Co. How little one could have suspected that the question of stocks was at the bottom of those famous back-down speeches in the congress of 1861. The Countess Gigliucci told me a little more than I had previously learned of the sudden death of the poor young Contino Ghirardi. I knew before that the mother arrived too late. I did not tell her as I might have done, that the last scion of the House, a boy of about sixteen, spent the whole day in which his poor mother was expected back from Genoa, in noisy riot, and before night was so intoxicated that he could not walk, and the portress of the house came to our servants for counsel. Fortunately for the distressed mother he had recovered sufficiently before she arrived to leave her in blessed ignorance of his previous condition. Certainly the prospects of this family with all its vast wealth, are sad enough. Miss Trotti passed the evening with Carrie, and I was more amused than I can say, in listening to her lively talk - so unlike anything one could have heard from an American girl of her age. I should certainly have supposed her three years younger than she really is, - but European girls are never encouraged to think - they are never left alone long enough to be thrown even for a few minutes upon themselves. Cairolo came in to say that the rifle sent to the N.Y. Fair was actually from Garibaldi himself.

Mr del Castillo came with a letter of introduction from Mrs Wurts. By the time he had uttered the first sentence I knew him for one not born on this side the Atlantic - That indescribable something which characterizes the native of the new world, pervaded the whole man. And yet he is of a Spanish family, and born in Havana. Fifteen years of his life, he tells us, have been passed in New Orleans, he married a creole of that city, and is still a large slave-holder. THe has also many relatives who are slave-holders in Louisiana, though most of his family have their possessions in Cuba. This gentleman interested me much as a man - his freedom from much of European conventionality, his frank and open bearing, had something decidedly piquant in their contrast with our present daily associations. But the best of all was his whole-souled patriotism - “I am not a native-born American, and I am a slave-holder, and my attachments, even my closest family ties, are in the South, but I love my adopted country well enough to be willing to throw all these considerations to the winds for her sake. Let Slavery go by the board - I never loved it, nor do I know any southern men that do, except that Charleston school which has brought this calamity upon us and the world.” He also talked of the copperheads of the north with great severity, and said that but for them the whole thing would have been ended before this. Nothing pleased me more in his conversation than the accounts he gave of his discourses with Englishmen - their taking it for granted that because he was a slave-holder he must be a friend to secession - their surprise when he came down upon them with an exposure of their feigned sympathy for the South, which he told them all Southern men perfectly understood to be only hatred of our institutions, jealousy of our prosperity, and an earnest desire to see the great republic go down. He says he has frequently told them that all the talk about an irreconciliable aversion between the people of the North and South was simply nonsense, that he was a creole himself, his wife a creole, and he could say positively that the greatest ambition of [illegible] creole parents was to marry their children to the Yankees of the North. His patriotism carried him even further than this - “If it were in my power” said he, “I would deprive every man in the United States of the right of voting who is not a native-born American. This would ostracise me of course, but I had rather it should be so than see the ruinous effect that of foreign influence on our institutions.” We were really sorry to see so little of this gentleman - a very novel specimen to us - but he was obliged to leave town this evening. The Countess Collegno came with Miss Trotti and took off Carrie while Mr Marsh and I went to hear Mr Meille. C. passed the evening with the Gilettas.

We spent the whole morning again arranging autographs for the Fair - Cerruti, the Marquis della Rovere, and others, having sent us some more very nice things. When we drove out I left husband at the cotton-exposition - which he found very extensive and interesting - while brother Charles and I took a turn to get a glimpse of the mountains. The evening we spent quietly at home.

My visitors today came in upon one another very mal à propos. The Countess Castellani drove away a friend I had just begun to have a nice talk with; Mrs Mayhew came in just after the Countess Castellani, - was mistaken by the latter for Mrs Elliot, apologized for not asking an introduction to her at the Pasolini’s, and as I supposed all the time that the Countess knew to whom she was speaking she did not find out her mistake till she asked C__ . as she was leaving the room. The Countess, too, had some mysterious communication to make which she did not want any person to hear except myself, & so tried to make gesticulation supply in part the place of words. Not being an adept in this language I was obliged to tell her frankly that I did not think I had quite understood her. “Oh, vous croyez de ne pas me comprendre parceque l’histoire est si étrange” - and here we left it, for as it was a secret I did not care enough for it to make any further effort in the presence of other guests. Altogether the day was not a very satisfactory one, (with the exception of a pleasant drive we had in the early part of the day) and was the morning was finished off by Carrie’s having a visit from her Hebrew, as she calls her - a circumstance which never contributes to her placidity. In the evening she and Miss Trotti went to the Regio in charge of Mme Giletta. Miss Arbesser staid with me till after twelve, and then went home afraid the palace doors might be shut against her. The announcement of the sudden death of the King of Bavaria Miss A__ . had supposed might give the Duchess a severe shock, and accordingly she expressed her hope when she next saw her Royal Highness that the intelligence had not shaken her too much. “Mich! gar nicht, gar nicht! Der Vetter macht mir nichts!” In the course of her evening chit-chat she told me an anecdote of Horace Vernet which I do not remember to have heard before, and which is really too good to have the air of anything but a very happy invention. The late Emperor Nicholas having invited him to dinner, His Majesty said something to this effect - I suppose, with your sentiments, you would not be willing to paint me a picture of some of the late battles in Poland. “Pourquoi pas, sire, j’ai peint notre Sauveur sur la croix.” Miss A__ . also gave rather a funny account of a late visit to her from Mme Peruzzi. The good lady, in the warmth of her patriotic zeal inquired very earnestly about the education of Prince Tomaso and the Princess Marguerite. “Est-ce-qu’on leur enseigne quelque chose? Est-ce-qu’ils comprennent quelque chose? Par example est ce que la princesse comprend qu’il nous faut avoir la Venise?” - and this to an Austrian governess! Miss A__ ’s love of the ridiculous made her enjoy this extremely and as she really quite agrees with Mme Peruzzi that the Italians ought to have Venice she was not at all wounded. Still, it was very uncourtier-like for a lady of Mme Peruzzi’s experience. Poor Miss A__ . has got herself into an awkward predicament with reference to the Marchesa de B__ . This lady wanted her to send to Germany for her for a German maid. This Miss A__ declined knowing, as she says, that Mme was capricious, and that there might be difficulties. She told her however that a favorite maid of the Duchess had recently left her because she was no longer able to stand so much as the Duchess’s service required - that however she was ready to take another service in case the lady should not need so much in the way of dressing, and she should have more time for sitting-work. To this Mme de Boÿl readily agreed. The girl went, staid three days, and returned to Miss A__ . declaring that she could not stay another hour, that Madame was a very __ . that she had driven off one maid the week before by dashing a glass with its contents at her head, because she had not raised the two sides of the window-curtain evenly. Her parting words to the one recommended by Miss A__ . were:, E quella che vi m’ha racommandata mi ha detto bugie assai! The following story I record, not because I am sure of its truth, but to show what is believed possible by a lady of high rank even in Turin. Mme B__ however is not an Italian, but of Irish origin. It is asserted that some years ago when at her beautiful villa she had so exasperated a maid by vulgar abuse, and even blows, that the girl, watching an opportunity when the Marquis was in town, and being sure that her fellow servants would be as deaf as those who won’t hear, tied her mistress’s hair to the back of her dressing chair, then gave her a sound boxing, and fled, being heard off [of] no more in these parts. The Marquis probably did not make a very energetic search knowing that legal developments would not help his lady’s reputation. How little these aristocratic institutions of Europe differ in their effects on character from those produced by Southern Slavery.

After church we drove out beyond the Madonna del Pilone, and my heart beat at the sight of the primroses which are just beginning to make their appearance on the hill-sides. We brought home a few for Carrie who did not go with us. The mountains, too, were magnificent, and it seemed more like spring than anything we have yet seen. In the evening just as I was making up my mind to compensate for such late hours last night by going to bed early, Cesere Cantù was announced again - a man for whom I would very willingly lose a little sleep. It was a very unexpected visit, for though husband had written him a funny note begging for another autograph, I did not expect him to answer it in person. - nor did he, for unluckily Dr & Mrs Monnet came in, and the great man had not the courage to introduce anything personal, so we lost the laugh we had at first expected. It really puzzles me to explain why I like this man so much, when he is, according to my standard, an obscurantist, a genus I dont fancy at all. And yet I see that Mr Marsh too, desperate Democrat as he is, likes him no less than I. We talked a good deal of our many religions in America, and, alluding to the Frenchman’s distress about our trente religions, et une seule sauce, Cantù said: “En France on a assurément les trente sauces, mais, une religion - je n’en suis pas sûr!

The Marchesa Arconati came in just as I had my bonnet and shawl on for a drive. She would not listen to my entreaties to stay and let me drive later, but took her leave, and went to the chambers. The day was lovely and our drive pleasant, but the mountains were less fine than yesterday. At six and a half Mr Marsh went to the Ministerial dinner in honour of the King’s fête - a dinner like all such dinners. The Gajanis passed the evening with us - Madame giving an interesting account of the test-vote of the chambers. She was fortunate enough to sit by Madame Arconati, who, good soul, began to talk with her, learned that she was an American, and immediately proposed to exchange cards with her - and asked her to come and pay her a visit. All this is so unlike the habits of the Turinese nobility. Cantù, the shy man, sent us the photograph this evening with a very nice sentiment by way of autograph, but wrote no note - I dare say because he was afraid we might send it to the Fair. “Ah, le traitre!” said Mr Marsh when he found there was no note, and that he had evidently come the evening before to give the autograph in person to save the necessity of writing the note one

We had a delightful drive to the Madonna del Pilone, and brought home a harvest of primroses and other wild-flowers. In the evening we went to Matteucci’s lecture which was very well attended. He was pettish with his attendants as usual, but was very animated while lecturing and in spite of his prodigious rapidity made himself understood in the main. It was pleasant to see him watch the circle of young girls sitting directly before him, and for whose benefit he seemed to feel himself talking. The Countess Castellani who was there with her brilliant little Inez, says that M__. told her that the blank, stupid face, of Mme Rattazzi perfectly paralyzed him at his last Lecture, and that he had great difficulty in going on. So this once bright star of beauty has fallen.

[Image] The result of my labour this morning was a full-blown crinoline, for the lack of which I have been suffering reproach for some weeks. I had scarcely decked myself out in it when the dancers came. The Countess Gigliucci passed the time with me and the Giletta came too. Mme Gigliucci told us a good many nice anecdotes of her starry days which entertained me extremely, but alas, she smote down one of my last-reared idols - Cantù, she insists, is but a false-hearted patriot - says he has written articles for the Austrian papers against the House of Savoy, and signed them with his own name. She added moreover that for this and for other similar acts worthy only of a traitor, he was refused admittance to every any distinguished House in Milan, that here neither the Arconatis nor any other true Italians would receive him. I know she told me this to prevent us from forming an intimacy that we might be sorry for afterwards, as she does not know Cantù personally, and her catholic sympathies would lead her to regard him as favourably as possible. For One half of all these charges I set down to those political jealousies which are inevitable in every country that has any political life, but of course they put us on our guard - in short, they have spoiled the dinner-party I was just planning for our new acquaintance.

The poor Marchesa Ghirardi came up with her only remaining son to bid us goodbye before leaving for [illegible] Sinigalia [Senigallia]. I never felt more sympathy for a mother under such circumstances, and certainly I never felt so incapable of saying a word that could do the least possible good. So wide, so immeasurable is the distance that our different educations and religions have made between us, that I seek in vain for some one point of contact. In the presence of this last child, a boy of sixteen she talks of the vicious habits of the brother who has just died as being matters of not the slightest consequence since he never rejected what was taught him by his spiritual guides, that he frequently went to Mass with her, and ‘always meant well, always had the best of principles, though the life he lead was of the most dissipated kind’. The poor woman seemed quite broken-hearted, and said she could not help feeling that she had been tried too severely, that her earthly lot had been too miserable. The part of her conversation which shocked me most (shocking under any circumstances but most shocking in the presence of that young boy) I could not possible commit to paper, nor could I ever relate it to another. My heart almost died within me when I thought of the state of society that must exist where a mother could speak in this way of a son lost within a month, and in the presence of his brother, a lad not fully grown. And yet the Countess had no idea that she was saying anything in the least unnatural or out of the way. I would have given the world to have said something to do her good, but I knew I could not. She thanked me for my sympathy, which was most sincere certainly, and so we parted. The Countess Collegno and Miss Trotti were were [sic] with us for an hour or more later. I can never mention a visit from the Countess without renewed expressions of affectionate admiration. Such society makes amends for much of a very different character. We talked for the first time of the Roman question, and I feel that I am gradually understanding better the difficulty which the best Italian patriots find in it. Mr Marsh, brother Charles and Carrie went to the Opera. The saintly Castillia came in soon after and passed the evening with me. Since the loss of his sister last month his deafness has increased astonishingly and it is now very hard work to talk with him. He came partly to tell us of a letter just received from Professor Child, full of good news as to the anti-slavery prospects. The old gentleman was immensely gratified that the Childs had christened their little daughter as Helen Castillia I asked him a good many questions with the object of drawing him out on the religious condition of Italy, and I should have been surprised once to find him so inconsequent, But I have now learned to expect inconsequence everywhere. Here for example is a man who has passed fourteen years in the Spielberg, who hates tyranny of all kinds with his whole soul, whose philanthropy is so deep that he would lay down his life for a fellow-creature and yet he defends the papacy and is afraid to have the pope disturbed. Speaking of Galileo even, he tried to excuse, if not to defend, the treatment he received at the hands of the church. His deafness gives him of course much inconvenience, and once when he was talking of it I said, ‘yes, these infirmities are certainly not small trials’, and mentioned the fact that I had not read a book for twenty years from weakness of sight. The old man seized my hand just as the venerable Plana used to do, and looking with great earnestness into my face, he said, “Is it possible? is it possible? but how!” I explained a little, and then tried to turn the conversation, but his sympathy was aroused and he would hear of nothing else till Miss Arbesser came in. After this he soon took leave as he could hear nothing except what was directly addressed to him & I suppose he felt in the way of our chat. Here I may as well sum up the court chronicle as received from her. The Duchess is thoroughly tired of the unworthy husband she chose to take to herself within less than a year after the death of her royal husband the Duke of Genoa Genoa. The Duchess has the sum of 200000 francs a year for her personal expenses and her household. Rapallo has an allowance from government for his wardrobe, but in addition to this he spends yearly on his own private pleasures 80000 francs out of the Duchess’s allowance! The Princess Marguerite has 30000 a year subject to the disbursement of the Duchess. Of this 30,000 only 10,000 are actually paid out for her, (2000 for her governess, 2500 for her music and other masters, 2000 for her wardrobe - the remainder for carriage, servants etc), the rest is used by the Duchess herself to supply the drain caused by Rapallo. The other day a certain marriage was spoken of in the presence of the Duchess and Rapallo, at which the latter expressed much surprise. “Lieber Schatz,” said the Duchess, laying her hand on the arm of the Marquis, “die Langeweile macht viel! Das weiss ich schon!” It was through the intrigues of this man that the Marquis de la Rovere was forced to retire from his position of governor of the Prince. He was in the habit of calling the General de la R__ in the presence of Duke Tomaso a bestione, whose only use was to torment the poor prince with unnecessary lessons, and all sorts of martyrdom in general, and by caressing the child himself, and pitying him on account of the severity of his governor he succeeded in alianating him completely from the man to whom his dying father had entrusted him. The Duchess, having received from the King this answer to her request that the Marquis de la Rovere might be removed from the governorship of her son, - : “era egli nominato do mio fratello moribondo, e non sagrificarò mai della Rovere a nessuno -”, Rapallo had recourse to every conceivable petty annoyance to force della Rovere to resign. When the position of the latter became intolerable he wrote to the Duchess saying that he had fully kept his promise to his dying master and friend - that he would fill the place of guardian to his son so long as he could make himself in any way acceptable to the boy’s mother - that he had borne many humiliations rather than withdraw while there was the least chance of his being useful to the prince - that there was no longer any, and he begged to be allowed to retire. When the news of the change was communicated to Prince Tomaso the little fellow said: “Ah, questo mi fa piacere - è un bestione!” Miss Arbesser who knew the faithful devotion of della Rovere was so much shocked that she immediately went to the Duchess, and told her what had passed, adding “Your Royal Highness must be aware that we who are devoting ourselves to these children do not do it for the sake of the pecuniary compensation we receive - we do it from love to them, and we have a right to so much of their affection as we can win by our faithful services to them, - nor has any one any pretext for interfering between us and them in this respect.” The Duchess doubted the possibility of Prince Thomas’ having used such expressions and Miss A__ then told her, which she had not done before, that she was herself present when it was said. A few minutes after the Duchess sent her a note expressing a wish that the remarks of the Prince should be kept a profound secret. This of course was in consequence of her fear of the King’s displeasure towards Rapallo. Miss A__’s zeal for Della Rovere she admits was not entirely disinterested, as the Princess Marguerite had already told her that Rapallo had scolded her for talking so much of her institutrice. “You should give your love to your mother and not to your governess who has no claims whatever upon you.’ The princess burst into tears and the Duchess said to her husband with some spirit,”Il ne faut pas vous mêler de mes enfants.” My first thought was, why does not H.R.H. shake the fellow off, feeling quite sure that she would have no scruples of conscience about doing so, but I then recollected that this would only sanction the censure the world passed upon her when she married him, and so cover her with fresh confusion. She shows much tact in not seeming to notice in the least the devotion of Rapallo to the countess Gattinara, and though the latter is both weak enough and unprincipled enough to accept this homage the Duchess still continues to show her distinguished favour. The Countess however is so fast becoming the subject of common gossip that the Duchess will no doubt soon have occasion to dispense with her services, having reasons less personal to herself to give for her dismissal. With all her good sense and contempt of much of the court etiquette here the Duchess retains the traditions of Saxony very tenaciously. She heard by accident sometime since that the governess of the children of the Countess della Rocca occasionally attended the children, when their mamma could not come with them, to the apartment of the princess and remained with Miss Arbesser while the girls amused themselves together. Upon this she informed Miss Arbesser that this was contrary to court etiquette, that a governess in anything less than a royal family could not be admitted to sit in the presence of the princess; that in Saxony when the governess accompanies children who visit the young ones of the royal family they are she is expected to come in full dress, decoltée, and with white gloves, and even then she can come no further than the threshold hold of the royal apartment - there she leaves her charge who are received by the attendants of the royal children. Miss Arbesser answered that all this was new to her, that the governess of the Countess della Rocca was of a highly respectable family etc. etc. All wouldn’t do, and Miss A__ was told that she must inform the governess how matters stood. Miss A__ begged that the disagreeable task might be handed over to the Countess Castiglione, she being cousin of the Della Rocca. Mme Castiglione politely declined giving her cousin this lesson in etiquette, a science she was supposed to understand herself from her own long court experience. Poor Miss A__ . had now no alternative - she wrote as delicately as possible to the Countess Della Rocca, who replied, that this had never been the etiquette at the court of Turin and that, in fine, if her governess could not attend the children and remain with them during their half holiday with the Princess, she should be obliged to deprive her children of the honour and pleasure of the visit! The Duchess thereupon gave a new proof of her good sense by saying - ‘Very well if this is the usage here I shall make no further objection’ - but she evidently was not a little put out, as the English say. [Image] The mother of the Duchess, the queen of Saxony, has not the reputation of being a very amiable woman, and in addition to this she is afflicted with the monomaniac fear of dying of starvation from poverty. The princess Marguerite and her brother wrote each of them a letter to their grand mamma at New Year’s, taking the greatest pains to write affectionately, and in their best chirography. The old queen sent them a message in return - the letter of the princess was very badly written, and the contents of prince Thomas’ were very stupid. The poor children shed many tears of mortification in consequence of these criticisms on the part of their loving grandmother.

Mr Marsh’s correspondence sometimes affords us not a little amusement. The other day he received a letter from a certain Valtalina of Brescia, who desired him to import for him from America a complete set of American tools, adding, that he should expect the said tools to be warranted by the Minister himself! Not long since the wife of this man wrote to the King a statement of their pecuniary difficulties, and intimated very plainly that he wasn’t fit for his place of monarch of Italy unless he would step in to the relief of his subjects. The kind-hearted King really did interfere in certain legal proceedings against them by furnishing them the money to pay up. Among the nine visitors this morning was Mme del Careto. I hardly know what to make of her, she is so far ahead of all the Romanists I meet with in her views of christianity, and she is so much more consequent in her political opinions - and yet I fancy she was educated a catholic. Her range of culture is like Mme Rothan’s - and sometimes I suspect she may have been brought up among French Protestants. I have set Mr Artoni to make some enquiries about her. Mr Marsh talked with her a few minutes and was as much struck by her as I had been. I might have learned something from Mrs Stanley, who has returned to Turin after a winter at Savona. By the way Mrs S__. delivers herself most energetically on the course of England towards Poland and Denmark.

A very dull day outside and no visitors. We are again treated to a telegram that the Pope is very ill. Mr Artoni’s hostess has promised her boarders twelve bottles of wine in case he actually dies.

We all went to church this morning except brother C. Mr Tottenham read less distressingly than usual, which was a great relief to one’s nerves. Old Sligo insisted on helping me to the carriage, though Mr Marsh was there to do the needful. Miss Nora came very near breaking up the congregation by certain unearthly sounds which she supposed were music - nothing worse happened though than a suppressed giggle among the young people, and nobody actually put his hand to his ears. In the evening we finished the life of Olympia Morata - a most interesting book by Bonnet, lent us by Mr Meille.

The Marchesa Arconati brought me this morning a precious letter from Manzoni to her. It comes too late for the Fair, but I hope we may turn it to account yet, for the benefit of the good cause. I had another talk with Mme Monnet about Renan this afternoon while Carrie and Miss Piria were chatting together. I wonder a woman of her intellect can be so carried away with the chaff of this renegade abbé. In the evening Carrie went to the Gigliuccis’ to hear Mohlschott lecture. I staid at home with Mr Marsh and we had the good abbé’s company. I asked him particularly about the Planas. He sighed heavily - ’Ah it is so sad to see these ladies making themselves so miserable about the veriest trifles at such a time as this. It is sad enough to see persons of fine intellect occupied wholly with saving up the pennies and half pennies of an income abundantly large to enable them to live without such miserable cares, but for the wife and daughter of one of the greatest geniuses which have appeared among us for centuries, to seem to forget entirely their loss in their care to make the most of what is left of this world’s goods, is quite too distressing. They have driven away all their servants, and they keep themselves in a continual state of irritation for fear their household expenses shall exceed a certain sum to which they had limited themselves. The poor abbé seemed to be quite heart-broken about it. He says that during the old Baron’s lifetime it was bad enough after he lost his hearing, and could no longer know himself how things went on, still he was always something of a check, but now the ladies both seem possessed with a kind of mania to save. They have a nett income of 25000 francs a year besides personal property, and they have no near relatives whatever. The other day the city proposed with the consent of the family to give the name of Plana to a certain street now called Via del Corso. The widow and daughter assented readily, but a few hours after the daughter sent for the abbé who found her in a state of the most violent excitement - “No, no,” she said, “we will not have that street called Via Plana! No no, My husband lives there!”

The bright sun this morning and the excellent condition of the roads tempted us to make an arrangement to go to the Superga tomorrow, but an experiment by way of a drive in an open carriage abated our zeal and we decided to wait for April. The Gajanis came to us in the evening, and after they left us we went to pass an hour with the Elliots which we did very pleasantly. We were not however in the best mood ourselves having just seen a most ugly-looking despatch from America. As it comes through the London Times however though, we shall try not to lay it to heart till it is confirmed through another channel. The Melegaris came while we were out.

Husband and brother C. not caring to go out this morning Carrie and I took Mrs Gajani to our favorite hills north. We found them magnificently tapestried with wild-flowers of which we gathered a great quantity, bought a pretty basket on our way back which we filled, and sent to the Marquise Arconati - The expedition was a thoroughly successful one - we did much damage to the grounds of the Villa Savio by rooting up their primroses, but we mercifully left an abundance for the consumption of the family. Mrs Gajani was in fine spirits, and seemed to enjoy the drive immensely.

Baron Ricasoli paid us a visit about eleven this morning. I happened to be in Mr Marsh’s cabinet which I was very glad of, but staid only as long as politeness required, availing myself of an excuse to call a servant about a package, to leave the gentlemen to talk over political matters more freely by themselves. Even while I staid, however, the stout old Baron showed his colours very unreservedly. When Mr Marsh remarked that the conduct of Austria looked very much as if she intended to attack Italy if she could find the slightest pretext, he replied with much warmth: “Dieu le veuille, Deiu le veuille!” He has not the least idea that the death of the Pope would change the policy of the Emperor with regard to Rome. He proposes to us a visit to Brolio sometime in July or August - not a very convenient time for us. The whole political world is in an astonishing flutter just now because Garibaldi has left Caprera for England - some go so far as to suppose the English government have encouraged his coming, for some mischievous purpose, though there is not the least probability that any government is in any way concerned in it. It is delightful anyhow to see them so shake in their shoes when this simple-hearted private man penniless and without official position, leaves for a day his quiet little retreat. The Gigliuccis came in just as we were going out to drive, to say goodbye to us before going out of town for a couple of weeks. The Count seems dreadfully tired of the late sharp sparring in the Chambers - and says he longs for a little rest. The Countess was in her never-failing good spirits, and managed, as she almost always does when she comes to me, to find an opportunity of rendering me two or three kind services. After they left us we went to the Villa Regina to take back to Mrs Young her remarkable book - “The Life and Times of Paleario. We found Matteucci himself at home and Mr Marsh paid him a visit, while Mme Matteucci sat in the carriage with me. Finally Matteucci himself came down, was in the best of humours and became quite radiant when we complimented him on his Lectures. Carrie was particularly happy in her remark, and received for reward a most paternal patting on the cheeks. We returned only just in time to escape a pelting shower. This evening brother Charles was so unwell, and we were all so much under the weather that I sent to beg Miss Arbesser not to come to me till next week.

Carrie & I went to church this morning. The good Tottenham read atrociously, but his sermon was better than usual, and atoned for other short-comings. Later in the day, we paid some visits, and drove - Carrie having filled up the interim between church and the drive by visiting Mohlschott Moleschott with the Gigliuccis, and getting some more precise explanations of certain portions of his Lecture. Beccaria came in evening to give us some hints about pictures that we might wish to buy for ourselves or friends.

We passed the morning among the pictures of the Senate chambers. I never go to these galleries without feeling the most intense desire to be so situated as to see and enjoy more in this way. There are certainly some very good things in this Turinese collection, and one or two copies tempted me exceedingly. Oh, how gladly would I give up our carriage and a great many other things for the sake of taking home some of these artistic treasures - and I cannot help thinking that we should benefit our country as much in this way as by much of this expenditure here which contributes so little to our comfort. But there are certain considerations that compel us to do as we do, and it is worse than idle to fret about it. Mrs Livingstone Brown came in as soon as I was ready for visitors. She is a good woman and a thorough American, notwithstanding so much of her life has been passed in Europe. My next visitor was Browne, too - Madame Peter, - I wasn’t pleased when she was announced, but the old lady redeemed herself, and even covered many of the shortcomings of old Sligo and the girls, by declaring that since her husband wasn’t present she would speak her own mind about this war of the Germans upon the Danes, & she did speak it like a true-hearted woman. I could not have gone further myself, and the shame she confessed at the conduct of England, disarmed all my reproaches, or rather took away all disposition to make any. Mrs Elliot, who came later, was more diplomatic, but I have no doubt she feels exactly in the same way. This I inferred from her conversation, and I inferred still further that the English really did expect to be driven into a war with Germany before the thing is ended.

A rainy day, and a day of illness for me. The picture-seeing yesterday knocked me up, and I must be content to keep my bed for some days I suppose. Husband finished one of the many replies to Renan’s Life of Jesus - interesting, but not very convincing except to those already satisfied. Then he took up Rosseeuw Saint-Hilaire’s Etudes Religieuses, a very attractive book. Carrie took his place as reader when he became hoarse, and so the day passed pleasantly in spite of pain -

Mr Marsh and Carrie went early this morning to Beccaria’s studio, saw some pretty things by himself, but were chiefly interested in two pen and ink sketches by Guercino, which husband coveted greatly. Miss Müller came in and kindly gave Carrie a German lesson. Mme Gilletta came for a little business matter and I saw her in my bedroom as I was not well enough to be up. I was sorry to miss a visit from Cerruti and his brother

I saw no one through the day, but had Mrs Gajani at my bedside for an hour in the evening. She gave me a little history of the pirate Semmes’ wife, and of the magnificent presents made her by the Union officers in Cincinnati before she set out for Richmond - also of her subsequent behaviour towards Mrs Allen, the daughter of Mrs Wilson of Cincinnati, who had married and was living at Richmond. My indignation waxes so hot sometimes against these semi-traitors of the North, that I find no words to express my contempt of them -

Good Madame Monnet made me a long visit this morning, and the Countess Maggiolini passed the evening with me in my bedroom while her two oldest boys enjoyed the sight of a live American in the drawing-room - The countess said they had just been reading about our war of independence, were greatly excited on the subject, and longed to behold an actual American. Among other subjects we discussed the new tax-law, or perequazione as they call it. The Countess, whose husband belongs to one of the oldest of the Piedmontese noble families, declares that it will ruin the landed aristocracy - that this added to former taxes brings up the rate to 50 percent on the income of their lands, that of course they must sell, and the estates will soon fall piecemeal into the hands of the peasantry. I ventured to ask whether this was likely to prove an injury to the prosperity of the country generally, or only likely to diminish individual wealth. “Oh,” said the lady “the poor will be better off, no doubt, but there will be no landed aristocracy to rally round the throne.” ‘But,’ I said, ‘does a constitutional King need an aristocracy to rally round his throne. I can easily understand the arguments in favour of an aristocracy when they refer to their opportunities for superior education and refinement etc. but I cannot exactly see that they are so necessary in a cou to the government of a country where all power is admitted to eminate from the people, and where the people have a real interest in sustaining the government.’ The Countess admitted that she had not thought much on the subject, but that she had always supposed that where there was no aristocracy there must be anarchy.

I had scarcely admitted my previous friend the Countess Collegno to my bedroom when the Countess Castagnetto asked for me. I was sorry to decline seeing her, but as the Collegno did not know her I thought it would be so awkward to have her come in while I was in bed, with their habit of making no introductions, that I ventured to excuse myself, unpleasant as it was. I dare say however that Carrie did the honours very handsomely and Mr Marsh went in also to make the matter smoother if possible.

We had a hurried day getting ready autographs for the St Louis Fair &c. besides its being the day for the settlement of house-keeping bills. Carrie and I drove out alone between three and four, and found that they were the wisest who stayed at home on account of the cold wind. Carrie had enjoyed her morning’s walk with the Collegnos to the Villa della Regina extremely, and came home delighted with two little Tuscan children playing about the garden - one an orphan brought from Pisa by Mrs Young, the odd mother of Madame Matteucci - The dialogue C. reported between herself and the children was, on their part, the most delightful of poetry. The little things were about three years old. Gajani spent the evening with us and suggested the admirable idea of building very quietly at Ancona or Genoa, a solid Monitor to be ready to destroy bridges etc on the Pò in case the Austrians should suddenly make a demonstration against Italy. This he thinks might be done under Webbs supervision without exciting the slightest suspicion as to what the creature was meant for.

A violent headache all day, and a wind that might be called a hurricane considering where we are. Husband says it’s the first change of air we’ve had here, that is, thorough change, in the last three years. The Ruscallas were our only visitors. Miss Ruscalla promises to bring the Baroness Savio, the poetess of whose two slain sons Mrs Browning writes so beautifully, to make our acquaintance. She told me too a good deal about Giannina Milli the improvisatrice; Indeed she knows more of the literary female celebrities of Italy than any one I have yet seen - Ruscalla himself brought a handbill which seems to show that the Re Galantuomo may still be safe. There is a rumour afloat that Peruzzi is to have the place of Venosta, and this is attributed to the ambition of La Peruzzi.

None of us went out to-day either to church or elsewhere - but had pleasant readings at home.

It was too fresh for Charles to go out with us in the carriage but the rest of us went to MonCalieri & back by the Porta Nuova. The Collina is beginning to look green and spring-like. I came home just in time to receive the Marchesa Della Rocca. She was more interesting than usual - told me of her six brothers in the army - of the oldest who was killed in ’49 in the Genoese insurrection etc.

This is the first really spring-day we have had, though there have been many spring-like ones. We drove to the cemetery, and I sat down not far from the entrance while the rest wandered over it. I stooped to pick one of the ten thousand violets that made the air so sweet, but checked my hand and left it to give out all its [illegible] perfume there where there was so little else to make the resting place of the dead look pleasant. A roundabout way home brought us through some odd places where none of us had been before - a sort of market for old rags of every description, scraps of old & new leather old bottles etc etc - there was no end to the motley heaps. I should not have thought it possible to raise a franc by an auction of the whole - but a brisk business seemed going on. This evening the great tourney comes off, but we do not go - the expense would be 200 francs, not to speak of dress.

The wind was so much colder to-day that we limited our drive to the Valentino garden. Before going there Mr Marsh and Carrie returned the visit of the Correlli. They found their palace one of the most magnificent in Turin, They are Lombard, I think, & charming people on a short acquaintance. We were much amused the other day by a discussion in one of the Italian papers in which the editor said he had been accused of being dissatisfied with a certain matter - “al contrario,” he writes, “siamo contenti, contentoni, contentinoni. This morning we saw a phrase amusing too in its way - speaking of the associates of Garibaldi the writer says,”Non erano tutti della farina da fare l’oste.” By the way the grand reception of Garibaldi in England is giving great concern to the little souls here who cannot rise to any thing like a comprehension of this wonderful man. It is mournful to see the petty picking at him. - His life is too great, too spotless for a word of blame - but they can say “after all what has he done so very remarkable! a thousand others would have done as well under the same circumstances, Military men don’t give him credit for much military talent, & certainly he has no political sagacity!” And so they take the measure of this man whom they are as incapable of comprehending as a troop of monkeys would be. One good effect however of his visit to England has already manifested itself. The gov’t here has been shamed into sending back to Lemmi the petty sum it sequestered from him as treasurer of the Italian patriotic fund. I should have mentioned what the abbé said to us last evening about the death of Prince di Cisterna. “He has now been dead at least ten days and the poor man still remains unburied, and priests and monks are saying masses over the body by night and by day. One would think we had fallen back at least five hundred years into the Dark Ages.” The abbé is a good Catholic himself, he thinks, but he does not hold, or professes not to hold, to such mummery as this. Just before tea Mr Marsh came into brother Charles’ room saying that he had just had a visit from [illegible] Derringer’s pistols’ son, a young lad of sixteen or seventeen whose simplicity had diverted and interested him at the same time. The poor - I was about to say little, but little he is not - fellow has, he suspects spent all his money, but could not quite muster courage to say so. Husband relieved his embarrassment by telling him to come in the morning with his passport and if he wished for anything else he should be glad to oblige him. Miss Arbesser spent the evening with us, and confirms the news we had had before of the probably near death of poor prince Otho. Poor child! He has had a hard life of it, and yet, they say, he has often expressed himself as contented with life: “Je suis vilain, très vilain, mais j’aime la vie”. Not long ago he gave his photograph to the Countess d’Aglié, saying smilingly: ‘It is the photograph of a miserable-looking little fellow.’ If he is taken now before he has become soured by a full [illegible] consciousness of all the privations to which his infirmities must expose him he will probably have enjoyed all that this life is capable of giving him. My Austrian friend admitted frankly that her family wrote her from Vienna full of hope that an alliance actually did exist between Russia Prussia and Austria. At the same time she abused the Prussians in the roundest terms, and summed up all her charges against them by this climax - ‘et quelle nouriture.’

Mr Marsh is nearly ill today with a violent cold. I had to excuse him to Baron Gautier whose visit it did not grieve him to miss. The Baron however had a half hour of uncommon lucidity and I found him not so bad a talker. He told me a little of their Pegli life this winter, and the character in which Mr West and of the English Legation figured was not over-flattering. I was glad to be able to cheer the Baroness, who is still confined to her room, by a message that I had opened negotiations with H.R.H. about the lace, and hoped for a favourable result, though I could not promise anything. The Marchesa Pallavicini-Trivulzio kindly brought me herself two new autographs - one of Foresti, the other of Gen. Guglielmo Pepe, and she offers to send me two copies of a photographic group of Garibaldi, the Marquis Pallavicini and herself, taken in Palermo just before the affair of Aspromonte. She is a noble creature, so full of heart, and if she has not all that grace of manner that distinguishes the Piedmontese ladies, she has genius enough to make rich amends. I put my patient to bed early with directions to the porter - not receiving - and was very glad to follow myself, having been kept up very late myself last night.

Miss Müller gave us a very interesting account of an evening spent this week at the Mohlschotts. Guerrazzi read to a choice circle his Italian translation of Göthe’s Hermann und Dorothea. Govi was among the auditors. I am filled with envy when I see how impossible it is for us to bring around us this kind of society. Our position is supposed to bring us into the court circle, and the literary class will not run the risk of meeting those who compose the former at our house. The Countess Collegno gave me an hour of her always most agreeable society, and brought Miss Trotti to chat with Carrie. Speaking of Mr de Bunsen’s marked inferiority, not merely to his great father, but to most men occupying distinguished positions in the public service, the Countess said: “But I quite agree with the remark so often made - ‘one must look to the mother, and not to the father, for the genius of the son’ - our great Manzoni’s father was a man whose intellect was below even the ordinary standard, but his mother was superior.” Mr Wheeler dined with us and passed the evening - was agreeable and sensible as he always is. The Valerios have gone to the great tourney at Milan.

After Carrie returned from her riding-lesson brother Charles and I went out for a drive, leaving Mr Marsh at home with a very bad cold, to be cared for by C. The wind however was so cold that we hurried back at the great poplar, about two thirds of the way to Moncalieri. We had the satisfaction of doing a few commissions, getting news of poor Mme Marini, but otherwise there was little comfort

We had scarcely returned from church when young Luigi Kossuth was announced. I felt sorry for him when he introduced the subject of Garibaldi’s The affair of the Duchess’ lace reminds me of a circumstance told me by Mrs Tottenham the other day, During the time of the Irish famine in 1846 or ‘7 Mr Tottenham said one day to his wife: - “I wish you too could strike out some new channel of industry for the poor children here - something that wouldn’t interfere with Miss Reid’s schemes for her school.’ Almost at the same moment a young girl, very skillful with her needle came in and begged for imployment. Mrs Tottenham without a moment’s previous thought, took up a fragment of old gipure, six or eight inches in length and a couple perhaps in breadth, handed it to the girl, gave her some materials, and said to her: make something as much like this as you can. The child returned a few days after with such an admirable imitation that it was immediately purchased by a fashionable lady for a cap-band and more ordered. Larger pieces were soon asked for, more girls were employed, a lady of London ordered a flounce for 25 lbs. the queen ordered a dress, - in short it became quite the enthusiasm of the day, and even now, in the way of needlework it is one of the principle industries of Ireland. I begged Mrs Tott. to give me this little bit of history in writing, but she declined on the ground that the credit of the suggestion had hitherto been given to Miss Reid, and though in this case unmerited, yet she deserved so much more praise on the whole than she had ever recd that she (Mrs T__.) would not for the world do anything to detract from the value of her services. reception in England. It was plain that his father felt sensibly the difference between this and the one given to him on a former occasion. ‘So far,’ said young Kossuth, ‘it is much the same as my father received, only they did not give him the freedom of the City of London which they now propose to do for Garibaldi. Perhaps,’ he continued ‘they may do more, no one can tell what fashion may do’. He has little hope of any good for Hungary for a long time to come, thinks the Emperor getting inactive, and in danger of letting slip such great occasions as may never come to him again. Mr Martines of the Spanish Legation made us a very agreeable visit. He declared himself the friend of the North in our quarrel, and gave such reasons for his friendship as made me think him sincere. Mademoiselle Gautier came to bring an apology from her aunt, the Baroness, who does not get out yet.

I was just writing to the Baroness to give her the Duchess’s answer about the magnificent lace. ‘She never possessed any such treasure; would have made no objection to allowing a copy of it to be taken had she been the owner of it, - some mistake etc.’ when the Baroness herself was announced. She looks pale from recent illness, but never appeared more lovely. I wish I could show her to American friends as a specimen of what Europe can boast. She gave us pleasant news of Pegli friends.

Neither Mr Marsh nor Charles feel well enough to drive, and I went out into the highways and hedges, took in Mrs Gajani and Mr Artoni, and went to Stupiniggi, We met Prince Amadeo on the way, also the Duchess de la Force, and various other notabilities. Mr Artoni amused us with Gen. Avezzana’s scheme for removing the collina to give more air to the city and to improve the view to the east! I inquired what was to be done to done with the earth - “Vi ha pensato, vi ha pensato, ma non è ancora tutto deciso” Mme Gajani proposed that he should dig a large hole to receive it, and this all agreed, harmonized wonderfully well with the rest of the scheme. Another subject of talk was the duel today between Alfieri and Bonghi, in which both received scratches, but nothing serious. Dr Monnet came to look after us in the evening.

We set out for the Mandria at one o’clock, and stopped at the Foreign office to take up Mr Marsh. In the meantime however, Gaetano had learned that the King was at the Mandria, which of course changed our plans, and forced us to a more common-place drive. Mr Marsh however enlivened it by a bit of gossip just picked from Cerruti. The brother who came here the other day for letters, and was about to sail for California, received, twenty-four hours before the time fixed for his departure, a telegram from Milan, on the part of a young lady, or the friends of a young lady, whom he had seen but once, saying that she should be glad to accompany him to the New World as his wife! Young Cerruti set out instanter for Milan, saw the young girl, (who was an orphan at a boarding-school and had few friends to consult) obtained the necessary certificates as to his own unmarried state, in short, overcame all the countless obstacles in the way of so hasty a marriage, got through with the ceremony, and had their united luggage packed in time to be off by the hour fixed!! The elder Cerruti who told Mr Marsh the story, seemed rather disturbed at the want of convenance in the affair, but husband consoled him by saying that a man was fortunate to get a wife of good birth, good education, fine talents, etc. on any terms, and especially a man going to a foreign country and among total strangers. While I was sitting with Miss Arbesser in the drawing-room after our return a servant announced Mr de Bunsen who came in followed by another gentleman, whom I supposed to be Mr Usudom, not yet known to me. When he presented him however he gave a name which I could not hear and mumbled something about the gentleman’s knowing Mr Marsh’s books etc. and a second glance told me he was an Englishman. I sent for Mr Marsh and we talked till he came in on the generals about which strangers usually speak. When Mr Marsh came in Mr de Bunsen repeated his introduction with the same indistinctness as before, then added two or three words which I saw Mr M. had caught, by a pleased light in his eye. I was as much in the dark as before. The conversation turned on Garibaldi’s reception in England. Our visitor laughed mischievously, while de Bunsen scolded. All were on Garibaldi’s side and chuckling over the reception except poor de Bunsen who declared that it was madness, that who knew but it might upturn all Europe. ‘What!’ I said, ‘can one man, one poor untitled man endanger all the governments of Europe?’ “But,” said de Bunsen, “suppose they should give him a million of francs in England!” ‘And suppose they should,’ I added, ‘a million of francs goes but a little ways in war-making if I may judge from our experience at home’. The stranger smiled and added, “But I am ashamed to say for the credit of the House of commons that so far that body has given him very little. If however he would accept the sixpences of the people there is no doubt that he would get not one but many a million.” Mr de Bunsen’s evident feeling induced us to slide off from Garibaldi easily, and to talk of other things, not however till the Englishman had told me that his wife who seldom went out, had repolished her diamonds to go to the Banquet at Strafford House. Pleased as I was with our guest I could not make him out, and he took his leave to me as incog as he came. As soon as the door was closed I asked Mr Marsh to enlighten me if he could. ‘Didn’t you understand? Why, it’s Lord Houghton, – alias Monkton Milnes.’ I had been talking then, and without knowing it, with the man whose poems had so much delighted me in Constantinople, the man long known in the fashionable circles of London as ‘the cool of the evening’, the man who has so nobly defended our country through her struggle for life. I was sorry I had not understood who he was that I might at least have told him how much pleasure his oriental poems had given me in those years when I had few enjoyments except such as could be gathered by the side of a sick-bed. Margaret Thurs Trotti passed the evening with us, and was, in her way, very entertaining. We were speaking of the advice of the Fischietto to the Emperor Maximilian to take a return-ticket from Mexico, and she enquired if we saw the caricature got up during the time the Greeks were running about Europe in search of a King. A shabby young man of the bourgeoisie was represented as saying to the porter of his modest lodging - “Se venisse alcuno a farmi re di Grecia non sono in casa.” An anecdote of Mme Arconati diverted me much as characteristic of herself, and the quickwitted children of Southern Italy. A child at Naples ran up to her carriage-door to beg, “Oh, bella signora, bella signora”, he began, when the Marchesa interrupted him with, “Ma perchè mi chiamate bella, non sono bella, sono vecchia”. “Ah, si,” said the urchin, “ma siete cosi ben conservata.” After we had chatted a while the girls took up Longfellow, Mrs Browning, and other books lying about. Margaret read some of the poems which were new to her with a good deal of interest, and showed much appreciation. I began to give her credit for more maturity of intellect than I had hitherto done, when a sudden turn in the conversation called out from her this remark: “Oh, I think it is so delightful to have a large family-circle, a great many uncles and aunts and cousins, for then, when one is going to be married one gets so many nice presents.” !

The Countess Collegno took Carrie to the cotton exposition this afternoon, Mr Marsh went to pay Lord Houghton a visit, and I took Giacchino out for a modest shopping excursion. The day was not pleasant. The abbé came in just before dinner to bid us goodbye before setting out for Paris. I tried to keep him to dine, but he was engaged to an English lady to dine with her party at the Hotel.

After doing various errands about the town we went to Vela’s studio, where we were received by the artist himself. He is altogether too modest to make a good showman of his own works, nevertheless we were greatly pleased with what we saw. The Desolazione is perhaps the most impressive of all, but the angel bearing up the child towards Heaven, & the statue of the Countess Collegno mourning for her husband, are each very exquisite in their way. There were several fine portrait groups of children; and a small statue of Venus designed for a fortune was particularly charming. Among the many busts that of Cavour was most conspicuous, but the one upon which the workmen are now employed had not a less, though a very different interest. It was the head of Garibaldi, - certainly one of the most magnificent that ever graced the shoulders of a man. One does not know which most to admire, its strength, its grandeur, or its benignity. We took our leave of the sculptor with many thanks, having thoroughly enjoyed our visit.

I had quite an animated discussion with the Marchesa Arconati about Garibaldi. She acknowledged the great merits of this remarkable man but dwelt with a good deal of feeling on his opposition to the course of the government, and especially on his irritation against Cavour. By giving as much weight to her views as I conscienciously could, and at the same time pressing the point of the great services he had rendered to Italy, of his undoubted and most unselfish devotion, to his country, of the admiration the whole world entertained for him and of the immense element of strength that he would be to Italy in case of a new crisis, I think I made considerable impression upon her and that she left me less dissatisfied with the reception he was receiving in England. I would not wound her by telling her the triumph I feel myself at this reception, but nothing has happened in Europe during these past three years that has given me such thorough, heartfelt pleasure. The Marchesa was not very complimentary to Lord Houghton, who passed the evening with her. She said, in her frank way: “I found no indications of genius, either in his face or his conversation, and should have taken him for a dull man if de Bunsen had not assured me of the contrary.” While Mrs Peter Browne was giving me an account of the late snow-storm near Benevento, which actually blocked up her son-in-law, the Countess Pasolini came in. I can see how it is that she is called the perfetta instead of the prefetta. Without a single beautiful line in her face, there is a loveliness of expression, a graceful ease of manner, and a charming flow of intelligent, sympathetic conversation, that must carry away even those less susceptible to such impressions than myself. After her scarcely any visitor could have been welcome except the Collegno, and fortunately for my nerves, it was she who came. Altogether the afternoon passed most delightfully, but a piece of milinery intended to be finished Saturday night was left in the lurch.

We have had so many quiet Sundays this winter, that I flattered myself with the hope of one today. Sir James Lacaita however broke in upon our reading, was followed by Francesco Kossuth, and Mrs Elliot kept our dinner waiting for half an hour, so that we had to ourselves only the fragment of a morning. Young Kossuth made no allusion to the Garibaldi reception, and of course I made none. But he said his father had been quite unwell for some days - Poor man. I dare say he feels with special acuteness just now that his own personal influence has forever gone by. Mrs Elliot has been sufficiently impressed by the feeling of the government here, to be disturbed at what she calls the excess of the worship paid to Garibaldi in London, and while she insists that the Piedmontese are unjust to the hero, she wishes the English ministry had not committed themselves so far in their glorification of him. Mr Elliot’s position must expose him to hear many unpleasant things, but for my own part I do still rejoice, and will rejoice at every tribute paid to this man among men, Further acquaintance only adds to the impression one receives from Mrs Elliot of thorough frankness, good sense, and kindliness of heart. Saint Castillia passed the evening with us. One wouldn’t wonder much to see him go up like Elijah.

Just as we were setting out for Piobesi, Captains Comstock, senior and junior, presented themselves. Husband waited long enough to be sure they had no pressing business for the moment, invited them to dine, and we drove off. Nothing could be finer than the day, and we arrived at the château about half past twelve. The gardener and his wife gave us a hearty welcome, and rushed about desperately in search of garden chairs, rustic tables etc. wherewith to install us on the terrace. Carrie secured the Key of the old tower and was waving her hat from the very top before I had really time to consider where I was. Mr Marsh and Charles soon followed her, and they three had a glorious view of the Alps and Apennines in their best dress, while I, the Martha, set out the lunch on the terrace. After we had satisfied our appetites and wandered about a little Charles produced his pistol, a target was set up and the owner of the weapon fired the firsh [first] shot. It was a failure. Husband took his turn, the pistol hung fire, and the target was unwounded. At a second attempt he rested the revolver on his left hand. Something went wrong again, and the skin of the hand between the hand and forefinger was taken off, leaving a plentiful distribution of fine powder in its stead. Upon this I pronounced the weapon defective, but was quietly told that it was only the bursting of a cap and Carrie was allowed the privelege of the next shot, and with the same result except that the sleeve of her visite suffered instead of her hand, also the smoke, or something else flew in her face, so that she declared the pistol shot in both directions; a second experiment and a fragment of something touched her cheek; I grew louder in my remonstrances; Charles fired himself and scorched his own sleeve; Carrie rebelliously tried once more, and something struck her eye. This I thought too serious for further trifling. The revolver was examined more narrowly and it was found that the barrels did not fit to the portion of the pistol containing the charge, and through the space, perfectly visible to the eye, a part of the powder had exploded each time. The target remained intact. Charles looked rather crest-fallen as he put the unlucky thing in his pocked [pocket], saying: “It is Edmunds’ pistol after all, not mine!” We had now only time to gather a few violets and pack up - Carrie went home with Marie for a few minutes, then to see our protégée, who at once hurried over to greet us. Marian, the little cow-girl, came too with her bright face and her pretty ways. We distributed various francs among these, to Maurizio, Pinotto and their mammas and drove away as we had entered the village greeted by many smiles and handwaving and cereas. We got home just in time to dress for dinner. The good Captain is a thorough patriot, and a fine specimen of his class, his son, an amiable young man, who dearly loves his sisters, doesn’t much care for Europe without them, and longs to command a privateer, to avenge some of his country’s wrongs upon England. The Captain gives the best account of the Re d’Italia, says it is one of the most splendid frigates afloat, and that the most favourable account of her will be made by the Captain. Mr Artoni brought in his concordance of the first canto of Dante, the Ganjanis joined our circle a little later, and later still Miss Arbesser came. When our other guests had taken their leave and we were free to talk quite by ourselves, she gave me a new chapter of court detail, rather instructive than edifying, I must admit. She finds it far more difficult to uproot the early religious teaching the princess has received than she had supposed. The other day the poor child went to confession, the first time for three months, the Duchess having expressed her wish that she should not go oftener, on the ground that it would lose all its earnest significance if too common and frequent. The confessor reproached her for her delay, and she said she had acted in obedience to the wishes of her mother and her governess. “Your mother and your governess are both Germans, and it is my duty to tell you plainly that the Germans have no religion, and you will endanger the safety of your soul by following such advice.” The princess was so much overcome after confession, and wept so bitterly that Miss A__ . begged to know what dis-tressed her so much, and after some hesitation she told the above. I said to Miss Arbesser, “how can you possibly expect to enlighten the princess when she is constantly exposed to the influence of priests who tell her that her first teachings were right, and that you are only, as it were, an instrument of Satan, by means of which he hopes to secure her as his prey. The vivid imagination of the child is far more moved by the terrors of the hell they paint than it can be by any of your calm reasonings.” “Will the Duchess,” I asked, allow the Princess to go to this man again?” “No indeed” was the reply, “I must now go myself to confession and by this means try to find a fit person.” Miss A. then went on to say that she became herself more and more doubtful as to the benefits of confession at all, declared that the general idea of it in Germany was, as a means of getting spiritual advice from a good man, that it was a confession as to one’s religious state, not a history of one’s petty sins, that it might be a relief to confess a great crime, but that pouring one’s everyday shortcomings into the ears of a fellow-mortal was not christian confession. I longed to tell her that it was Protestantism which had taught Germany this, but thought it best not to push too hard a person already on the right track. One specimen of court morality I must give, but of course I must leave Miss A__ . to be responsible for its truth. The Countess della Rocca, excessively dislikes the Duchess, and after telling Miss A__ . some discreditable things concerning her she said, “Now it is your duty to inform the Princess exactly how these things are.” “My dear Madame,” said Miss A__ . “you certainly do not consider what you are saying, - you who are a mother yourself, do you think I could take advantage of my position to prejudice that dear child whom I must soon leave forever against her mother, the only human heart upon which she can lean with the certainty of not being betrayed at least?”

Fortunately I was dressed an hour earlier than usual, or the Countess Gigliucci with the Novellos would have found me in my wrapper. I was delighted to see Madame G__. once more, and glad to make the acquaintance of her brother and sister. The two girls, blooming and lovely came in with their governess, and Miss Rosazza followed with hers.

This morning at six we had taken a cup of coffee and were on our way to the Superga with four horses and postillion - the latter in blue and silver. The good citizens stared as if it were a very uncommon thing, which it certainly is not, but we were a little shorn of our beams by being obliged to leave Gaetano ill at home. The day was perfect, unimpeachable any way. The Alps and the Apennines looked their grandest, and we had a most pleasant excursion. The royal tombs are very splendid, and I shall never forget as I sat by the fountain in the court, (the rest having gone up higher) how solemn the morning-service sounded with its deep long-drawn Amens ech echoing through court and corridor. We were at home soon after eleven. The Marchese Arconati came to see us by the time we were a little rested, and before he had finished his visit, Madame Rothan came in, better in health than when she went away and not less charming in every respect. As Mr Marsh happened to be in the room when she came he had an opportunity of seeing and admiring one whom everybody does and must admire. The Comstocks and Artoni were with us during the evening. Carrie went to the palace to spend an hour or two with Miss Arbesser, and was entertained by an introduction to the Princess Marguerite’s little dog by the lovely little princess herself. The pretty child, almost a woman except for her short dresses showed off her English a little by calling her dog - poor Jack. When Miss Arbesser insisted that it was time for her to go to bed, that the maids were waiting etc. she gracefully bid her and Carrie good night, took the dog in her arms and just as she was closing the door roguishly let him slip away, that she might have the pleasure of romping round the room once more to catch him.

Mrs Tottenham came in before I was quite ready for visitors. She has recovered her old life, and was full of amusing personal experiences about raising money to build churches etc., and with some very good Irish anecdotes. As soon as she left me I hurried on shawl and bonnet, and we drove to the Vaudois chapel to hear Mr Meille’s lecture, saw a notice on the door, that owing to illness it was postponed, Carrie sprang out to stop the carriage, was too late, and there we were, left in the street, with no cittadina in sight, and in a benighted land where a young lady could not go without a decoro far enough to find one. I bethought me of the Monnets who, I knew, were not far from the church, - we arrived there safely, climbed the eighty-eight steps, and were instantly rewarded by Mme Monnet by a glass of peppermint liqueur from the Vaudois valley, and life-giving it was to me, faint and out of breath as I felt. We sent a notice to the porter at the chapel, for the carriage when it returned to call for us at the Monnets - Mr Marsh came, and we got home safely. In the evening Mr Clay came to say goodbye (before setting out for a tour to Naples, Rome, and Florence.

Our family arrangements are a good deal upset by Gaetano’s continued illness. We did not use the carriage and had a more than commonly quiet day.

The doctor insists on Gaetano’s being removed to his own home where he can have a larger room, more air, and the constant attendance of his wife. Poor fellow. He is really very ill, and I am almost afraid he will not recover. It is painful, too, to have him leave the house, but we really have no place in which to make him comfortable. His little room, which did well enough in health, is too confined, and too much exposed to noise for a sick [illegible] man, and we have not a single spare nook anywhere. Mme Conelli with her two blooming daughters came in as early as is allowable for visits, and Miss Ruscalla followed next in order; then our pet, Margherita Trotti, with her aunts sense and saluti. Mrs Mayhew brought her two pretty children, which ended the list for the day. Mme Conelli seems a very superior woman, quite as much Dutch as Italian. Miss Ruscalla is garibaldimissima and we had a quiet confidential curse at his enemies together. She says her father is much discouraged at the want of interest in the affairs of their country shown by the deputies - thinks many of the liver-hearted among the so-called liberals, stay away from the parliament purposely to avoid committing themselves on the interpellanza with reference to the Garibaldi fund sequestered from, but afterwards restored to Lemmi. As to Garibaldi’s leaving England, she says her father and his political friends have not a doubt that it is the work of the English government instigated by Austria and Prussia. Our evening lamps were scarcely brought in when the burly captain, and his son, with Mr Artoni presented themselves, and they were still deep in papers about the new frigates when the Count and Countess Gigliucci were announced. We had a very pleasant evening, but I found myself thoroughly tired out before our visitors left, close on to midnight.

Our home-letters and papers are stirring today, not from war-news, but for the strange political conversions they announce, and for the interesting details about the great fair. Reverdy Johnson converted to Abolitionism! Abraham Lincoln himself may come to it yet. What will Robert Winthrop and the like of him do, now that their very apostles are admitting that they have been but blind leaders of the blind. This looks as if the hour of our Country’s redemption was really at hand, It is worth more than victories in the field to see these grey-headed sinners repent. Gerebzow, the Russian secretary of Legation, paid us a visit, but I had just returned from a drive too tired to make ap my appearance, so I excused myself to him and other visitors.

Levi left some capital autographs for me last night. letters of Silvio Pillico [Pellico], Botta, Rossini etc. O thou good Jew! We had a most charming drive to Pino to-day - the vegetation is far more advanced on the east side of the Collina than on the west The fruit-trees are in fullest flower. The Gajanis took tea with us & brought the good news of the safety of the Ré Galantuomo.

We wrote letters frantically all the morning - drove to Mrs Gajani to get some directions about strawberry seeds - then to the Countess Collegno to take her the account of the fair - then took Gia. to see Gaetano who is getting on well, then a turn round the Valentino & home to dinner. Dr Monnet, whom Charles has at last decided to consult, thinks his principal trouble is of the digestive organs and too strong an action of the heart, and recommends reduced diet & a little bark

Madeline Tottenham spent the day with us, went with Carrie to her riding-lesson, the rest of us driving in the meantime. I returned Madame Gigliucci came to arrange with us about a long walk for the girls, Miss Trotti included. Mme Collegno came on the part of the Marchesa Arconati to invite Carrie to the concert tomorrow evening. The De Bunsens kept us a half hour beyond our usual dinner-time, but I was glad to see La De Bunsen with us again. De Bunsen himself was confused, wandering, and gossiping as usual - but they are a very good amiable couple and well-matched. The little Arbesser, as De Bunsen calls her, spent the evening with us and, as she was in one of her lucid intervals, made herself most agreeable. On such occasions I am more than ever grieved to think what a noble as well as brilliant creature, a better education might have made her.

Carrie went to the Chambers with Mme Gajani, I was to have gone to Mr Meille’s Lecture but was prevented by a thunder-storm. The Comstocks were with us all the evening.

All except myself set off this morning at six for Lanzo. The weather was a little doubtful but it was thought best to risk it. My solitary meditations were only twice interrupted - once by the rotund Captain, and once by the seraphic Castillia, the sight of whose calm and reverend face is always better than a sermon. His very presence seems to fill a room with charity and peace. As The excursionists returned in the rain, but luckily they were well protected. As soon as tea was over I announced my intention of going to bed, having first counted on my fingers our usual evening visitors and arguing argued from certain premises that no one would come to us tonight. I had however scarcely closed the door, (C__. satisfied with my logic had retired too) when the bell rang and Cantù was announced. I was rather vexed to miss him, but it couldn’t be helped, and Mr Marsh had all the better opportunity for a free and easy chat with him. Carrie went off

Carrie went off on the proposed long walk, being taken to the Gigliuccis by the Countess Collegno. They were to return to their rendezvous for high tea. For myself I felt obliged to dress for visitors though with such an aching frame that it was no small effort. Charles kept me company in the drawing-room as long as he could, but the bell seemed to have convulsions, and its sound drove him off so many times that at last he gave up trying to hold the position. In the evening the Countess Maggiolini with her boy, came in time for a cup of tea; then came the Gajanis, the Comstocks and Artoni - the Comstocks to take leave. By the way the Captain says Mr and Mrs Russell - the latter Hope Tues - arrived here Thursday evening and left early Friday morning.

Brother Charles and I being both on the invalid roll church-going was put off by the rest till afternoon, and in addition to bodily ills we have Banks’ disaster to meditate upon. Mr Marsh and C. got ready for afternoon service, but the former, going in to look after Charles before setting out found him actually in bed. Of course he did not leave him, but sent a message to Dr Monnet to call in the evening. We have however the satisfaction of seeing Gaetano well on the way toward recovery. He was able to come here with wife and child today and hopes to recommence active operations in the field by Wednesday.

Pleasant letters from home this morning, among them a capital one from Milton. Half the servants ill, brother Charles very feeble but luckily but few visits, and a quiet evening entirely to ourselves.

No visitors today except the Countess Collegno and Margherita.

Our minister to Copenhagen, Mr Wood, came in quite early this morning and had much to say that was interesting about the Danes for whom he feels the holiest sympathy. His own personal experiences with the State Department at home were very diverting. As soon as he left Mr Marsh went to the Hotel to look for Lady, and Miss Estcourt whom we were expecting. To our great joy they had arrived safely notwithstanding an awful gale, attended with a storm of snow encountered last night on Mont Cenis. They came to us as soon as they had rested a little and breakfasted, and never were friends more welcome. Lady Estcourt has recovered much of her old quiet gaity, and Miss Estcourt, while she loses nothing of her life, is gaining every year in intellectual breadth. We had a most happy day with them, and even the Marchesa Arconati, welcome as she always is, was less so today than usual. The Woods too, whom we should have been glad to see at almost any other time, were rather an interruption this evening. Miss Wood, a young lady in very delicate health, interested me very much from her earnest views of life and its duties. She seemed to regret that her future home was likely to be in Albany, a place so much behind most other towns in the U.S. not only in culture, and real refinement, but even in patriotism. It was pleasant to me to look at this young creature and see what an immense gain she was upon her imperfectly educated mother. We had to bid the Estcourts goodbye, as they leave early in the morning, but hope for a longer visit from them next week.

We seem to have gone back to March for our weather, and as to wind, the like of it for the last few days was never before known in these parts. I am reconciled to it perfectly by the pease [peace] and quiet consequent upon it. We had no visits, day or evening, except the Doctor’s, and had nothing to do but to nurse ourselves and each other. We managed though to make some progress in Le Progrès, and to get on a little in one of Caterina Percoto’s stories.

The same scowling weather and the sick list not much diminished. We hope to get off for Saluzzo tomorrow. - oh, the Pope’s worse. A curious article in the Opinione about the manuscripts left by Silvio Pellico for the benefit of his sister Giuseppina which were not given up to her by the Countess Barolo, but left at last in the hands of her confessor - he steadfastly refusing to surrender them to any one. A blue summary from the U.S. Conference matters in London making but poor headway. Goldwin Smith is distressing himself lest our gov’t should retaliate for the Fort Pillow massacre. It’s a dreadful business anyhow but I think he’d better spend his breath in exhorting the President to a stronger policy than the milk-and-water one he has hitherto pursued with regard to the rebels.

An [h]our before we expected to be off for Saluzzo a gentleman from Massachusetts, employed by the state as agent to get information to help on the Hoosack tunnel, came in and furnished Mr Marsh with work enough for two days. Luckily, however he has the gift of despatch when hard pressed, and before the carriage was at the door, for us he had written some eight or ten letters for the gentleman, given him cards of introduction, and, in short, done everything possible to clear the way for him and enable him to transact his business at once. We reached Saluzzo about half past three, and went off at immediately to see the Casa Pensa, the famous triptyc in the chapel of this house was taken from the old cathedral at Mondovì, and is, indeed, almost a miracle. The pictures within the first doors are very pleasing and have a decided German look, but the marvel appears when these, too, are opened. Such a wonderful specimen of fine wood-carving taken all in all, I have never seen. There are at least seventy figures in the different compartments, many of them most graceful in attitude and drapery, and the various groups stand in niches, and under canopies carved in the most beautiful Gothic patterns. The whole is very richly gilded and in a state of perfect preservation. That both the painting and carving are from the hand of German artists I should think there could be no shadow of a doubt. We turned away from it feeling that we were already more than repaid for the little journey we had taken. The daylight lasted long enough to allow us to see the church which contains the fine tomb of the second Lodovico, Marquis of Saluzzo, husband of Margaret de Foix. The marble statue of the Marquis lying on his sarcofagus, is a grand thing, and the rich stone carving about the chapel delighted us exceedingly. It was so chilly however in the church that on brother Charles’ account we were obliged to hurry off sooner than we could have wished.

After breakfast this morning we drove out to the great castle of Verzuolo, the finest thing of the kind I have seen in Italy, though no doubt there are others quite equal to it. It was probably built in the fifteenth century, and is still kept in tolerable repair. The position is singularly beautiful. A fine view of it is obtained from the road as you approach and the steep winding avenue that leads to it is very picturesque. From one side of the castle there is the finest possible view of the plain stretching far and wide below. On the other side you seem to be in the very heart of the mountains. The garden is beautiful, and the large luxuriant laurels prove that the climate here is not severe. The finest single object here is a magnificent old tower overgrown with the ivy of three-hundred years. It would be worth a mountain of gold if it could be set down on the banks of the Hudson. We crossed the old iron draw-bridge and entered the castle. The furniture is for the most part very old, but not remarkably rich. A few old bureaux of inlaid wood and some magnificent state bedsteads richly gilded excited my cupidity. There were many old family portraits, but generally the pictures were execrable. Two large rooms, one in each of the great octagonal towers, called forth our livliest admiration, rather from their capabilities than from what they actually were. The view from each of them was most beautiful. and such libraries as they would make! We were told the family spend only one month a year at this castle. Mr Marsh and sat down in the open summer-house listening to the birds and the fountains, while brother Charles and Carrie explored the kitchen and cellars. They reported the kitchen fireplaces to exceed in size even the enormous ones we had seen in the great dining-hall above. Thirty huge wine-casks on either side of the cellar told of high-living here in the olden time, but they rang very hollow now, and the great iron rings in the kitchen arch which once no doubt supported mighty flitches of bacon and the like served now only for show. We saw but a single servant about the premises, though there are more in all probability. We left the grand old place with half a wish for such a home. After dinner Mr Marsh and Charles took another stroll, and among other things they found the house in which Silvio Pellico was born with a marble slab inserted on its front stating the fact. By the way the statue of Pellico which stands on the square is very fine, only it looks a little too priest-like.

We left for Paesana rather early this morning, hoping the weather would allow us to take mules there and go on to Crissolo for the night. Delusive hope! The rain came on before we had made half the distance to Paesana, and we arrived at the wretched Corona Gallo wet and disconcerted. The dining-room was forlorn, and the bed-chambers forlorner. A bright fire in the former and a little sweeping and a general change of linen in the latter improved our prospects somewhat, and a very fair dinner, enlivened by a strong cup of tea nearly restored our usual equanimity. We went to bed hoping to start early for Crissolo.

The roll was called very early this morning with not very brilliant results. I had not slept half an hour, partly perhaps from a late cup of tea, but more from a bad bed shared with very many troublesome companions. Mr Marsh did little better, Carrie much the same, and brother Charles made the most dismal report of all. The weather looked a little doubtful, but we were all disposed to try the experiment up the valley, till it came to brother Charles’ turn to speak. For himself he decided against it, fearing the effects of the wetting he might very possibly get and as it was on his account th rather than our own we wished to go we very readily gave it up. It did not seem worth while to wait in this wretched place for good weather, so we took a bus (the only thing we could get) to Pinerolo, which we reached soon after two, having encountered both sun and shower. Mr Marsh telegraphed immediately for Gaetano who came up with the post and returned the same evening.

The weather looking still very doubtful we thought it best (especially as brother Charles felt quite unwell) not to go to La Tour as we had intended, but to wait one more day, in the hope of brighter prospects. We spent most of the day in a long drive up the Fenestrelle valley till we came in sight of the famous fortress. The valley is not particularly interesting for its scenery. There are however some fine stone quarries, and it was a curious sight to see all the workmen lying about on the stone blocks with smaller bits for pillows taking their noon nap as we went up. When we came down everything was so changed. Hundreds of hammers were pounding and chisels clicking, the large blacksmith’s shop was ringing with the sound of the tool-sharpening, and altogether everything looked as busy and bustling as the most zealous advocate for progress could desire. We had no particular adventures during our trip, and made but one stop which was to gather a handful of narcissus in a meadow, though I think brother Charles was a little tempted by the sign of the Bonne Fame a headless woman, very quaint. At dinner a council was held, and it was settled that in case of fine weather tomorrow, an early start should be taken in the morning, Mr Marsh for Turin, the other three to La Tour, there to take mules for Pra del Tor, and a grand rendez-vous was to take place at Pignerol again on Friday morning, when we would set off for Avigliana, in the hope of climbing the Saint-Michel Saturday. If the weather was bad we were all to return to Turin.

The weather was bad, - very bad, and we rang the bell at the Casa d’Angennes before half past eight. It was delightful to see from the polished wax floors and other unmistakable symptoms, that if our excursion as a mountain trip had been a fiasco we had at least escaped that fearful period of confusion known as “house cleaning” in New England. Mr Marsh found no less than three calls apparently of consequence, had been made upon him as Minister during his absence. The circumstance however most regretable was that Madame Marini died and was buried during our absence while we were gone. The announcement of the hour of the funeral did not arrive in time for Mr Marsh even to be telegraphed in season to be present.

The dinner at the Russian Ministers’ last night was not large but rather agreeable, several of the members of the Ministry were there, and expressed themselves quite triumphantly about Venosta’s speech in Parliament yesterday. The post brought me an interesting letter from our friend Mr Tebbs with a ten pound subscription for Mr Tottenham’s proposed church. The Countess Gigliucci made me one of her long charming visits. I can see more and more of the artistic nature in her, and can understand perfectly well that she would be greatly disliked by those who should think it worth while to contradict any of either her strong opinions or her strong prejudices. For my own part I sympathize with so much of what she believes and thinks that I can very easily pass over in silence any little point of difference. On the subject of the war with Denmark she is positively in a state of ebulition. To Mr de Bunsen, the other day she said: “oh, I have a question to ask you!” “Anything you please Madame, except about the Schleswig-Holstein question.” “Never you fear! I cannot trust myself to speak upon that dirty subject!”

We had a delightfully quiet day - finished About’s Progrès, and read some articles in the Revue Cretienne - among others a notice of Rey’s new book on Italy, much praised.

Carrie and I drove round to the Hôtel d’Europe where we found Lady and Miss Estcourt safely arrived and ready to go to church with us. At half past five they came to us to dine, and pass the evening. What unmingled pleasure it is to have such friends with one. In the Estcourts we have often said that there is absolutely nothing more to be desired. After nigh twenty years acquaintance with Lady Estcourt and a dozen with Miss Estcourt, seeing them in the most intimate way, sometimes every day for months together, and several hours of every day, I can truly say they have never once given us a monent’s pain by word or act. Their refinement is without affectation, their culture without pretention; and their ready, graceful wit has never a touch of severity or malice.

A bad headache prevented me from going with Mr Marsh and the Estcourts to the Exposition, but I was well enough to welcome them on their return, to be at the dinner-table, and to drive out to the cemetery after dinner. The Estcourts were delighted as I knew they would be with Vela’s statue of Madame Collegno, also with many other monuments by him. The Gajanis, who had been in for a moment during the day, came in to pass the evening with us, Dr and Mme Monnet too, made us an extempore visit, and Miss Arbesser came at her usual late hour. We had a very pleasant time, but I was so thoroughly tired out before twelve at which time Miss A__ left me, that I could scarcely speak from sheer exhaustion.

Our friends were with us all day and I was glad to have a chance to make them acquainted with Mme Collegno. They fully endorsed my enthusiasm for her. After dinner we drove out inten intending to go to Pino to get a view from the top of the collina, but before we were half way up the hill one of our horses gave out. The rest of the party walked on while I remained in the carriage for the horse to recover. When they came back we were able to return to town but no more. Our drive on the whole proved a fiasco - still Monte Viso showed himself in all his majesty. I never saw it grander. The Estcourts had only time for a cup of tea before being obliged to return to their hotel to be ready in time for their early morning journey. As soon as they left us we planned a surprise for them, by getting up a little excursion to San Michele for tomorrow.

At five o’clock we had taken our coffee, and in a few minutes were all on our way to the station, the morning having proved fine even beyond our hopes. We were already seated in the railway carriage before our friends saw us. The surprise looking was all we could have desired, Alex. having taken good care ‘not to let himself see’. We all enjoyed the hour to Sant’ Ambrogio intensely - the Alps were overwhelmingly grand, and nobody said anything about the parting till it came, and was over in the brief moment that the train stopped at the station. Alex. set about looking up mules, and Carrie and I were soon furnished out. The one brought for Charles was such a skeleton that Alex. sent him off. We were mounted before eight, brother C. having already some twenty minutes the start of us. Carrie’s monture was shipwrecked at an early stage of the ascent, and she was obliged to take to her feet with the consolatory observation from one of the party that a volunteer was more honourable than a conscript. We reached the the [sic] church of San Michele on the top of the height about ten o’clock all very tired. The structure is an imposing one - half castle, half sanctuary in its appearance. The advantage taken of the natural rock, partly for external wall, partly for staircases and other internal portions of the building is very striking; most of the edefice has been modernized by the repairs, but the original great staircase and the arch under which it terminates, as well the arch leading into the great chapel are of the tenth century. They are very interesting of course, but portions of them are in so ruinous a condition that they may be expected to tumble down at any moment. There is a most curious old Gothic tomb of an abbot in the chapel which I wished much to look at longer, but Mr Marsh found the air so damp and chill after his severe climb that I did not like to keep him. Several members of the House of Savoy are buried here, but their tombs were of no special interest. This sanctuary is now the home of some dozen Rosminians, an order established by the great Rosmini, and, as he thought, more in accordance with the spirit of the age than those already existing. The good brothers had nothing to offer us but a cup of coffee and a few grissini, and, for a wonder, they would accept nothing for it. The place is much frequented in summer, and a large party of noisy French men and women showed that the season had already begun. Some twenty minutes below the Sanctuary on our way down, we found a little Albergo where we got bread, cheese, a young chicken, and a bottle of wine. It was pleasant here, under the roof that protected us from the sun, and we lingered till the heat of the day was past. At Sant’ Ambrogio we dined comfortably and were at the station in abundant time for the evening train from Susa. A cup of tea was waiting for us at our cheerful home, and we were all tired enough to make a short evening afterwards.

With the exception of the Tottenhams we had no visitors, but Mr Marsh and Carrie went out to pay some.

The Countess Rocci tells me that her cousin, our unhappy landlady, has broken with her so completely that she does not even speak to her - the cause of the indignation being that she (the Countess Rocci) had gone over to the enemy. ‘And who are the enemy?’ I asked. “Her husband, her daughter and her daughter’s husband,” was the answer - . Once more all Italy is agog with the hourly expectation of the pope’s death.

During Mme de Bunsen’s long visit this morning she told me a sad story of the Cisterna family, which has been hushed up as much as possible and kept especially close from strangers. We had heard nothing of them since their retirement to the country after the death of the Prince, and the good abbé’s allusions to the strange old-world doings going on there. The princess, half maddened by her bigotry, was not content with keeping the body of the Prince unburied for many days, and constantly surrounded by priests saying masses, but she obliged her two daughters to remain in the same room both night and day, and to take even the little food allowed them in the same place. The eldest,* about sixteen, who seems to have not a little of the Merode in her, bore it tolerably well, but the younger, a child of thirteen, became nervous and distressed to the last degree, and finally implored her mother on her knees to allow her to leave the the apartment, saying at the same time that she could not endure it, that it would certainly kill her. The mother however, not only refused, but forced her to kiss the lips of her father just before the coffin was closed at the end of six days! The poor girl obeyed, but sickened immediately, and in a few days the wish she had expressed to her mother while suffering from her intolerable tyranny - ‘oh, that I were with my father instead of being here with you’ was realized. During her short illness not even her guardians were allowed to see her, on the ground that the time had not yet expired for the family to receive even their intimate friends with propriety. I could not have believed this story had not Madame de Bunsen received it from unquestionable sources. Quite early this morning we went to see the yearly exposition of pictures, and found as usual plenty of red tape to vex us. The ridiculous regulation forbidding one to return to a room once visited prevented us from being able to compare certain pictures with one another as we wished to do in order to decide about making a few purchases. The visiting the sick, The teaching the ignorant, two pictures by Scherer, tempted us a good deal but we could not go back to reexamine them without buying a new set of tickets and entering again at the principal entrance! Had it been a place much visited, there might have been a show of excuse for this severe discipline, but there were not six persons there besides ourselves, and it is simply a shoot from one of those old roots of the Dark Ages of which George Sand speaks so feelingly. We were greatly struck by a portrait of the King in pen and ink, made by an attaché of the Peruvian Legation - a young man of about twenty who has had no instruction whatever. He is of Indian origin by the mother’s side, and the Peruvian gov’t have been wise enough to send him to Italy expressly for the purpose of giving him an opportunity to cultivate his most extraordinary talent. His name is, I think illegible Tinajeros. The exposition is on the whole not very creditable to the artists of Northern Italy.

While the Kossuths were with us after church, Mr Medina of the Peruvian Legation came to see us, and surprised us with his very good English. It is curious to see recognize in every one who comes from the New World a certain indescribable freshness, freedom from conventionality, and abhorrence of all petty tyrannies. we found our young Peruvian friend not less irritated than ourselves at the ridiculous regulations of the esposizione. The Kossuths diverted us as usual by their comic mixture of simplicity and knowledge of the world. The Countess Maggiolini passed the evening with us, so that we had not much of a Sunday to ourselves.

Madame de Bunsen brought her sweet baby at a very early hour this morning, and Commodore Aulick who was here before her went back to the Hôtel to fetch the little Stouts. I was disposed to feel an interest in the children as doubly orphans, but the eldest managed in the first five minutes to make herself thoroughly repulsive. The mixture of self-conceit and ill-temper she exhibited were enough to spoil a dozen children. ‘You are all happy to go home, I suppose’ I said. “No, I do not wish to go home.” ‘You have been in Italy so long [illegible] then that it is hard for you to part from your young friends.’ “I have no young friends, and I do not wish to have any, and I do not intend to have any. I have already been deceived”. I could not help laughing outright at the absurd affectation of the child, then said: ‘But it is a great pity for you not to have friends, one is never happy in this world without them.’ “Oh I’m very happy - besides I have friends enough among older people, married ladies and so on, but I don’t like those of my own age, they are so silly.” Margaret Trotti brought a beautiful note from the Countess Collegno, with the present of a biograph-sketch of her husband by Massino d’Azeglio - most interesting to us - We had sent her Mr Winthrop’s & Mr Marsh’s notices of Gen. Estcourt. The Countess Babbo is said to be at the point of death - She is greatly beloved, and will be greatly lamented. Margaret told me, in proof of her great kindness of heart, that she refused to receive the last consolations of the Church last evening for fear the news of her being so low might keep some of her friends from a large ball and so occasion a disappointment to them & their hostess. It was with much difficulty that she was persuaded to give up these scruples and only after the assurance of her physicians that the morning might be too late. I mention this only to show from what different points of view certain subjects may be regarded, not to censure this truly noble woman. The Peruzzis came while we were dining. The little Pallecelo read to me an hour - I don’t see what is to become of her - poor thing

Miss Arbesser was here very early to tell me of the illness of the Princess Margaret to get information about Miss Müller etc. - the Aulicks came again & visit followed visit almost till dinner I am sometimes weary of all this to a degree and especially on days like this when most of my visitors are empty and my own heart is so full - we have just heard of the terrible battles between Grant & Lee on the 6 and to the 11th. I should not however count Miss Arbesser among the empty (though she is certainly very flighty) nor the Countess Pasolini, who belongs to the Arconati circle, and was today, as she always is, most charming. Miss Arbesser told me one court anecdote which had much amused her, but at which I felt my smile to be a forced one. It had become known unofficially by the Maison d’Instruction, that the physician to the prince and princess was about to be married, and some one had remarked in the presence of the little prince that the promised bride was no longer young, that she had false teeth etc. A few days later the physician himself came to announce his engagement formally to his royal charge. The prince replied: “Ma signor dottore, la vostra sposa non è più giovane, - ha i denti finti!” Young Aulick brought the eldest Stout again this evening, and she appeared much better. She is quick-sighted and very likely discovered that her nonsense did not impress as she expected.

Brother Charles left us this morning for a tour to the South. When Mr Meille came in I begged husband to take my place and receive him as I felt so thoroughly tired, but he wished me to make Mr Meille an exception, and go in, which I did, and was of course overtaken by other visits and kept nearly three hours. I got some comfort out of it however, by having a good half-hour’s railing at the conduct of the Austrians and Prussians in their behaviour towards Denmark, old Madame Browne furnishing the strophes and I joining in the chorus. The Countess Gigliucci brought a nice note from Mrs Somerville with very kind messages for us, and promises of photographs etc. for the Sanitary. The Gajanis were with us in the evening, Gajani himself being full of a scheme for joining with Col. Gowan in a search after petroleum in Italy.

More news from America - the great battle of the 12th favorable to the Union cause - thank God. But oh this frightful loss of life! - It being Corpus Domini we were left to ourselves all day. The quiet was most refreshing, but would have been more enjoyed had we been sure of it beforehand. Dear Mme Collegno, with Rita, spent a long evening with us - saintly soul! We read this morning d’Azeglio’s sketch of Gen. Collegno - most eloquent & beautiful - also the Gen’s most interesting diary of the siege of Navarino. Mme Collegno may well feel with Tennyson Tis better etc, I could not help telling her that to have lived 18 years the beloved companion of such a man was worth a thousand ordinary lives.

The rain did not keep Mrs Tottenham from us - otherwise the morning was quiet. Our reading today was Collegno’s Journal of the Siege of Navarino & Phillip von Artevelde. We have met with no less than five six old acquaintances in the Gen’s journal -

Dr Millingen, Churchill, Kalergi, Macri-Jami, Suleyman Bey - Mari - most of them we found the same in character as when Collegno parted from them.

We have bad news from our army this morning, but we hope it is an invention of the enemy. Went out for a little shopping and came back in time to see & comfort my unfortunate Venetian protegee, The good Duchess Bevilacqua & Marchese del Careto have stepped in to give her a lift. The Countess Castellani and her pretty Inez were with us when Rustem Bey came in - Poor man, I should hardly have known him. His grief for the loss of his mother is as genuine as his love for her was engrossing and untiring. It is interesting to see how completely his conventionalism has dropped from him, and of how deep feeling he is capable. When I remember that this man is one of the most thorough devotees to mere form that I have ever seen, I grow charitable and half believe that there is a heart at the bottom of this great formal world. Mr Artoni dined with us - the Countess Collegno took Carrie to drive on the Piazza later, and we were peacefully in bed by ten.

Only Mr Marsh went to church. I did not feel very well, and Carrie stayed with me, and read me the details of that awful battle - week from the fifth to the twelfth inclusive: This slaughter is really too dreadful. God grant it may not be all in vain. What shall we hear next? Mr Valerio came in and talked with us an hour. He is hopeful, and does not believe much in the unfavourable rumors. He told us an odd story of his having obtained from the proper authorities permission to land a hundred barrels of petroleum in each of two lighters - that in loading these lighters 99 barrels were put on one, and 101 on the other - that he was called to an account for this by some the one missing on the first boat, and when he stated that it would be found on the other, he was fined, first for the minus of the first load, and secondly, for the plus on the second. We discussed the Sanitary Commission, and he said what many others have said here before, nothing could be done with such a charity on this side of the water. It would be entangled and suffocated by red-tape before it was a week old. Our lovely friend, the Countess Gautier surprised us by a visit, and still more by her worn and wasted appearance. She has been ill almost ever since she was here before, and I am afraid the whispers about heart-disease have only too much foundation. I cannot see that she has much to live for however, and she seems good enough for a better place.

Mr Marsh went out with Carrie to pay some visits - otherwise we had an unbroken day to ourselves.

In bed all day; and a rainy one at that. Carrie at the Tottenhams. Too dark for much reading in my room, so that I was necessarily left to my own meditations.

Still in bed all day - missing in consequence Dr Butler who is just arrived from Rome. The Arconati and Rothan I might have received in my bed-room, but felt too weak and ill to talk, so lost their visits too, also Mrs Mayhew’s and I don’t know how many others.

A letter from Mr Clay saying he has been illegible ill in Rome. Poor fellow! I’m afraid he won’t get much pleasure out of his trip. Another miserable day for me, but luckily the rain prevents me from being made nervous by visits I can’t receive. Dr Butler who was to have dined here today, was unexpectedly obliged to leave at five o’clock. The abbé came in in the early part of the evening to announce his safe arrival from Paris after a two-months’ absence. Mr Marsh reports him in good health and spirits, and full of interesting matter.

Mr Marsh went to pay some visits that were crying out against us - among others, to Mme Solvyns who spoke severals times during his visit stay & even quoted some lines from Taylor’s desc. description of Como where they are to spend the summer. Rustem Bey he found ill in bed. Talking with Mrs Mayhew about the hard fate of the poor here, forced to live in the garrets of these lofty palaces, without fire in winter & suffocated by the heat in summer, obliged to carry water & every thing else up so many flights of stairs etc - the lady replied “But do you not think it safer for the Government that the poor should live in this way in the garrets of the rich than that they should have houses in quarters by themselves? Would they not then meet together to talk over political subjects, and so get uneasy and turbulent? And might not such a person as Garibaldi then easily stir them up to mischief.” I should like to have seen how Mr Marsh took this, but he says he tried to answer her as a lady should be answered though he could not help telling her that ’no good Government could possibly need to take such measures for its own safety, that he saw no reason why the poor should not talk over their wrongs together as well as the rich their rights, and furthermore that for his own part he would trust Garibaldi to wrong neither rich nor poor. Niccolini lectured to-night on La via per andare a Romo - the Matteuccis sent us tickets to dispose of if we could. We took ten & gave away as many of them as we could. Mr Matt. sent me also his Lectures.

Dressed to-day for the first time since Monday, but find it hard work to [illegible] walk steadily. Saw no one till after dinner then had visitors all the evening - went to bed tired & nervous and not to sleep.

It seems little like sunday to-day. At an early hour the whole city was astir, the military collecting etc. It is the Festa of the Statuto & the Review is expected to be finer than usual. Mr Marsh and C. have gone to the balcony of the Ministero & every servant is in the street except those necessary to protect the house. I have just returned from our back-terrace from [where] I had a view of his Majesty as he passed through the Piazza amidst the shouts of the multitude. O Victor Emanuel had ever king such a chance to work a great work as you! And yet alas how unequal the man to the position. Educated to feel himself above those moral obligations admitted to be binding on ordinary men, given up to selfish pleasures, he is letting slip the most glorious opportunity to build up a great nation. If fighting could make his Italy none could make it better than he - & the re galantuomo too he will always be - but sacrifice his own personal tastes in order to learn the wants of his subjects at Naples, at Florence, at Milan, to pour over histories & political economies & treatises on Religious liberty etc - not he! ‘I have given you a Constitution’ he says practically, ‘govern yourselves by it as best you can & don’t bother me about it!’ According to Miss Arbesser the princess Margaret has different views When told of the flight of the emperor of Austria from Vienna in ’48, the princess, then nine years old, said, “aber er hat sehr schlecht gethan! Ein König sollte nie sein Volk verlassen!” Er lebt nicht für sich selbst!” And here I must insert another princely anecdote - The Duchess of Parma, so lately departed in the richest odour of sanctity, said to the Duchess of Genoa, soon after the her - Parmas - [illegible] - marriage with the brutal Duke of Parma - “Mais, ma chère amie, qui voulez-vous! J’avais deja vignt-cinq ans, et j’aurais epousé le diable même plustot [plutôt] que de ne pas me marier.” Poor woman! she did the next thing to it. Mr Marsh came back from the Review before it was over, leaving Carrie to the care of Madame Collegno, who brought her back an hour later in the finest spirits. Altogether it was a brilliant affair - Soon after dinner Mrs & Miss Cleveland, our old friends of ’61 at Trombetta’s, came in. We were quite thrown off our equinimity by the pleasure of seeing them, and we talked for an hour and a half like mad, as Robert Browning says. Heaven will indeed be a blessed place if it is made up of the like of these - After they went away my head was in the greatest confusion, partly from what I had learned from, or told to, them, and partly from the things I had forgotten to ask or to tell. Mr Marsh walked back to the Hotel with them, - then came the hour for lighting up, and the Crown, the scutcheon of Savoia, and the V.V.E. were soon blazing away over our balcony, supported by a line of red white and green lights extending to the theatre on one side, and around to the Via del Moro on the other. It was really very pretty, and we beat the Frenchman, as Mr Marsh and Carrie triumphantly asserted, after making a personal reconnaissance. He, the Frenchman illuminated only with his own colors, red blue and white, which did not fail to call forth uncomplimentary ejaculations from the groups in the streets. The public buildings generally were very handsomely illuminated especially the Palazzo Madama, the front of which seemed wreathed by an immense garland composed of smaller garlands, and within each of these a bouquet of flowers, red green and white.

While Mr Rogers of Naples was with us Mrs and Miss Cleveland came again - and again we talked at high pressure for another hour. I am so grieved that they cannot stay longer. The papers this morning give us the news of poor Hawthorne’s sudden death. What changes we shall find if we ever live to return to our country. I was just flattering myself, after Mme Arconati and Mme Matteucci left me, on being in luck today in having only agreeable visits, when young Master Day, once of Norwich, now of New York, was announced. He had preluded his visit by a flourish of trumpets from Naples, so that we were not wholly unprepared. This young gentleman, of the genus snob, species copperhead, was so full of himself, the attentions he had received on board the Re Galantuomo and at Naples, that it was really pityably ludicrous to listen to the account he gave of the tributes rendered to the “intrepid young American.” We listened with what patience we might to such an overflow of vanity and folly as one rarely meets with even in young men of his tender years - but when he asked me if I still kept up my interest in N.Y. society etc, I answered, and I felt my cheek hot at the moment, that of course I could not fail to feel the strongest interest in my own country at such a moment as this; but that so far as the mere social life of N.Y. was concerned I could feel little but mortification at the discredit thrown upon us abroad, by its extravagance and frivolity - Our youngster looked a little hit, and then stammered out an expression of a belief that “the best pepople in N.Y. were now beginning to wake up.” I had opened the flood-gates, and it was now very easy for me to say - ’As to that I think the best people of N.Y. have waked up long ago, but it is hard to believe that there is anything there so poor that it will not be roused now.” Our young friend changed the subject, and began to talk again about European society, etc. etc. etc. and I took occasion to tell him that an American who wished to obtain any social position abroad must do so by a manly and independent maintenance of those principles which distinguished us as a nation - that every country-man or woman of ours who thought to gain credit in Europe by phrases like these (which I had often heard) - “our republicanism after all, is only theoretical - there is as distinct a division of classes with us as in Europe - the best families do not - etc etc” every one who talks in this way is, and deserves to be, set down as a snob. Such persons may be treated civilly to their faces, but they are invariably the subjects of ridicule and contempt - I was almost startled at having gone so far, when Mr Marsh reassured me by saying - “No American has ever held a higher social position in Europe than Charles Sumner, and he obtained it by a noble and fearless defence of the largest human liberty - by always showing himself a thorough American, gentlemanly in his bearing to all, and subservient to none.” When our visitor took his leave husband laughed very heartily at what I had said, and added, - “our letters went to their address -” But I am afraid braying will be lost on a young man who was asked to be photographed forty five times in Naples in the course of a few days, and who received one hundred and ninety-six visiting cards in the same incredibly short time.

The intrepid Mr Day sent in a card to Mr Marsh quite early this morning to inform him that at half past twelve he should call to take him to pay a visit to his friend Capt. Tsola. ! Mr Marsh happened, by fortune to be out, or the young man might have received an unexpected answer. Somehow or other he met his friend Capt. Tsola, who, having more sense of propriety than himself, proposed to come and make a visit to Mr Marsh instead of staying at home to receive him. The latter had not yet returned from the Ministers when the Capt. and his quondam guest presented themselves. I received the Capt. graciously of course, and Mr Day as stiffly as I well could and be civil. The conversation being in French in which our young friend couldn’t show to the best advantage, he was kept reasonably under. I did not fail to speak to the Captain of the life and death struggle going on in our country, and of the sacrifices that were making on the part of her sons to save her. They took their leave without making a long visit, and the intrepid American looked somehow or other very quiet. I had no other visitors except the always-welcome Gigliuccis. The races, to which Carrie was to have gone with Countess Collegno were spoiled by a heavy shower, which also filled the gaz-tubes, and extinguished the grand illumination which was to have been. A great disappointment among the thousands who have come in from the country.

This evening Mr Day favoured us again, and this time he really showed considerable tact. His last two visits had taught him something of his ground, and he avoided collision very dexterously. He told us he was to receive the order of S. S. Maurizio e Lazzaro as a reward of merit, and asked if there was any impropriety in doing so. I should have mentioned that Mr Clark of Milan breakfasted with us, and made a favourable impression as to the good judgment with which he would be likely to conduct operations there.

Some Georgia boys, who have been at school in Geneva called here this morning to get passports renewed etc. Poor fellows! They made no grimace at the oath of allegiance, but I’m afraid it went hard. I could not help being sorry for them, for, whether Union or rebels it must be melancholy to them to think of their state now. Thanks to these showery afternoons we have had little company for a couple of days, and it almost seems like the quiet of the dear old Castle. Marguerite came to see Carrie, but I had no visits. Young Day came in to say goodbye.

An important business-letter from Mr Edmunds in answer to one I wrote him little more than a month ago. The home-news is of so anxious a character that we scarcely breathe between despatches. Carrie paid some visits today to the Castagnettas etc, and picked up a good deal of neighbourhood news, among other things the fact that Miss Benedetti had been very ill and at one time fell into so deep and terrible a lethargy that her death was announced even by letter to distant friends. She revived however, and at last accounts was better. With some friends in the evening the conversation turned on the English, and English politics. Husband said “Les Français aiment à être gouvernés par leurs supérieures, mais les Anglais aiment à être méprisés par le leurs.”

Mr Bing of Smyrna paid us a long morning visit, and the Baroness Gautier and Countess Collegno filled up the rest of the time till dinner. I am always the better morally and intellectually for a long talk with either of these two ladies, and I bade the latter goodbye for a month with real pain. She goes to the sea for bathing. Mr Bing dined with us and told us much about the East and Eastern acquaintances. The rascalities of Offley and Dainese formed a part of his theme. Mr Bing is a man of unusual talent and attainment, sees everything with a clear and judicious vision, but his capacity for talking outruns even his other remarkable qualities. He left us only a little before eleven, after having been listened to for five hours and a half; add the hour and a half in the morning and it foots up seven! The abbé Baruffi diverted Mr Marsh and Carrie from their duties to our dinner-guest for half an hour, but I had no release. If there must be such talkers however it is a blessing when they are gifted otherwise like our friend Bing.

In spite of the shower in the early part of the afternoon, the illumination proved a grand success tonight. The Via di Pò was one gorgeous arch of light, and the great Stella d’Italia shone out magnificently on the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele. Of the tens of thousands in the streets every one seemed cheerful but quiet. There was no drunkeness, no noise, no rowdyism of any kind. Indeed there are such contradictions in the character of this people, that I sometimes feel myself even more ignorant of them than before I came among them. Here is the whole population of a city afloat at night with a very small police, and scarcely noticeable anywhere - still all is order, and no one complains of insult or robbery. And yet in this same city a young lady is not safe to walk ten rods by herself in broad day-light. One of my best friends in Turin told me two days ago that for a little time she had the habit on returning from a walk with her niece to leave the young lady at the foot of her own staircase to go up to the second piano by herself, when she, the aunt, wished to pay more visits, or to extend her walk. This fact was noticed by some scoundrel, who watched his opportunity, secreted himself behind one of the landings, and when the young lady was going up alone, sprang out upon her, caught her in his arms, and she escaped from him only by succeeding with a sudden effort, in reaching a bell which she knew where to find, and which summoned the servants. The vilain however was off as a matter of course before any one had the presence of mind enough to seize him. One difficulty seems to be that an infamous act like this is not regarded as a crime, and a

young man who should be detected in it would not be disgraced.

Mr Bing favoured us with a couple of hours more this morning - merits and demerits as before. Miss Arbesser came after dinner with a charming budget of gossip as usual. The sum and substance of a part of it was that the young Castiglione bride from America had not the brightest prospects before her. She wishes us to try to give a certain Herr Ritter, a protégé of hers, a lift in the way of helping him get out an opera at which he has been labouring in vain for six years past - Italia risorta is the title of his work which she thinks rather enthusiastic than patriotic on his part. The Marchesa Arconati is looking into the music a little to see whether to take hold of it. The more I know of this remarkable woman, (the Arconati) the more I am filled with admiration. Brilliant she is not in the least, but there is such an extraordinary breadth and depth about her, & a more than Roman firmness of purpose with an individuality the most independent that I have ever met in my life. I love the Collegno best, but I look with reverent awe on the Arconati. The Gajanis brought in Cerotti, generalissimo of Engineers, whose acquaintance Mr Marsh was very glad to make.

The Seraphic Castillia also joined our little circle.

A spring-like day of wind and shower. No visitors except the Russian chargé, Count Osten Sachen and his wife, born Princess Galitzin - thorough people of the world, no sharp corners of course. On the whole I think they will be quite an accession to the Diplomatic Circle, though the Countess herself is in very delicate health.

Our days are almost entirely swallowed up by reading letters and papers from home and in breathless watching for telegrams etc. but it is idle to try and record occupations or emotions like these.

We had nothing but neighbourhood visits today, and in fact every thing looks like a thorough breaking-up of city life. Miss Arbesser made a long evening with us - They are to leave early in the week. She gives us so much information about court-life that it really begins to seem very natural. The little princess sent me some queries with a request that they should be transmitted to Miss Sewell of whose books she is a passionate admirer. The questions are naive and charming in the highest degree. Prince Amedeo graces the ball at the Valentino this evening, and I was rather pleased to learn with what rapidity his royal highness made his toilette for the occasion. He was sitting in a cherry-tree, in the garden of the palace, which he had climbed to get some cherries for his cousins of Genoa, when his valet informed him that it wanted but ten minutes of the time when his carriage had been ordered for the ball. The Prince jumped down from the tree, sprung to his chamber and in the ten minutes afterwards descended the great staircase and entered his carriage en grande toilette.

Mr Castillia brought Miss Jane Sedgwick to us this morning on her way over Mont Cenis America-ward. She was very tired and we tried to stay her with flagons and comfort me [her?] with apples. Poor thing! If she bears the journey from Genoa so badly I don’t see how she is ever to get to Paris - After dinner we drove out with her to show her the few lions we have, and were fortunate enough to meet the Duchess and her daughter, Prince Amadeo driving his own establishment, and all the little remnant of haute société still left in town. The mountains didn’t look their best but were respectable, and altogether I think Turin made a favourable impression on our new acquaintance. I was bid to be prepared to find her very odd, but we all decided that she was less so than the one from whom we received the hint. Mr Castillia devoted himself entirely to her, Mr Valerio came in to say a goodbye, Alexander managed to get her ticket changed so that she can stop more frequently than is usual if she likes, we made her up a little package of eatables with a tiny flask of wine, and I hope she may get over the mountain without being ill, though I feel very anxious about it. During the course of the afternoon Madame Solvyns and her mother were an hour with us. They give very bad accounts of Madame Rothan’s health which quite distressed me. Such women as she are greatly wanted now.

The Marchesa Arconati came to bid me goodbye before going to the sea shore. She had been out to their podere near the Zicino, & returned much depressed at the prospect of the silk. The Marchese had taken much pains to get the semenza, as they call it, from Walacchia, sending thither a most trustworthy person to watch the progress of the worms from their first appearance on the butterfly-state selecting only the eggs of such as had appeared perfectly vigorous from beginning to end. This semenza he had divided up among friends in Lombardy, Piedmont and Tuscany. In about half the cases the worms have done well - the remainder have failed entirely. This would seem to fix the disease on the trees or in local atmospheric influences; another fact however looks quite in a contrary direction. All the semenza brought from Japan where-ever distributed has succeeded perfectly. The Marchesa tells me that Lombardy will be ruined if this continues much longer. All those portions of it not capable of irrigation, and known as the terre asciutte are now grown over with mulberries and thus far it has been found impossible to turn them to any other account. Indian corn, she says, yields in those districts only six-fold which of course does not pay for cultivation. She says that already great distress prevails even among proprietors on account of the failure of the silk crop, and that the prospects of the poor are still worse. The Baroness Todros brought us very sad news - the death of poor Pauline Benedetti. Her parents are said to be utterly overwhelmed, and I can believe it well, for there were never more fond and devoted parents

After we returned from church the Countess Gigliucci made me a long visit - as usual full of lively anecdote and overflowing with practical wisdom and quaint humour She told me a droll story of one Tommy Wills’s book on Italy. The weather is getting really summer-like at last, and one can luxuriate in cold water and thin dresses.

Nothing of special interest to record for today. Col. Mayhew paid us a long visit but otherwise we had no interruptions from our usual occupations. I smuggled Carrie into a close carriage to leave cards in my name for the Osten Sachens. Brother Charles writes from Bologna that he goes on to Venice. The Gajanis spent the evening with us, and are cheerful about home affairs in spite of telegrams which they disbelieve. Mrs Gajani brought me from Miss Haines a photograph of Mrs Kirkland taken the day before her death, and, strange to say, asserted to be the only one ever taken of her -

C. went to Miss Arbesser this evening where she had a very pleasant time, saw the dear little princess and her dog again, and received from the little royal highness the offer of some of her books to read, which was accepted of course - Miss A__ . came back with Carrie at half past nine and staid with us till eleven. It is quite touching to listen to her talk about her royal pupil. No mother could be fonder. As I listened to the child’s praises I could not help thinking of the sad fate that had befallen so many innocent young creatures in her position. We had been reading only today the letter, recently published for the first time, of the poor dying Queen Caroline Matilda of Denmark to her brother in England. Alas, who can feel anything but pity for a royal child of the weaker sex - especially if, like our sweet princess, her religion necessarily excludes her from a marriage with a Protestant prince. It would be some comfort if she could become the wife of a son of Prince Albert - but I suppose she must fall into the hands of some German brute or Spanish zealot. Miss A__ . told some curious stories about the practice of Dr Weber in two or three of the convents in and near Turin. The doctor declares that they are in extreme poverty and misery as a general rule, and he has himself, with the consent of the King raised money enough by a subscription to furnish one of them with some fireplaces or stoves. He declares that during the whole of the last terrible winter the poor nuns of the Sacramenti had never once a fire by which to warm themselves even for an hour, that in consequence of this and their self-imposed penances their health had suffered frightfully. They seem to be very grateful to this protestant doctor, and three weekly services are held for the express purpose of bringing about his conversion. A well-known countess here has written him a letter to express her admiration of the services he has rendered to these poor daughters of the true church, and by way of testifying her interest in his own conversion she proposes to give him her niece for a wife as the surest way of bringing about an event so desirable. She is willing to risk, it appears, the safety of the soul of her niece for the chance of saving that of the amiable heretic. A capucino too is also labouring for the same good end, and when Miss A__. asked the Dr how the conversion was progressing, he answered: ” admirably admirably - I shall have the good father over in about fourteen days.”

The Count and Countess Castiglione, the happy couple just from America came, bringing letters from Mrs M. O. Paine. I was really glad to find that the new Castiglione is a niece of my old friend. May the match turn out happier than most such do. The lady is rather pretty - decidedly New York in her manners, and her husband has contracted during his eighteen months stay in America an unmistakable New World air. Gossip says that his father who was half mad and half wicked maltreated his Genevan wife to such an extent that the King interfered - (Carlo Alberto, of course) - took her away from him and put the daughter, the present Countess della Rocca into a convent that she might be in better keeping than either of her parents were likely to afford her. The old lady is still living - a Protestant by education, Catholic from a matrimonial conversion. The Gigliuccis came after dinner to take Carrie to walk and the Monnets spent the evening with us. Madame Monnet and I had a long discussion on the subject of Cocquerel fils. It is next to impossible for an American to look at things from a European point of view. Madame Monnet is kindled with indignation because the majority of French Protestants have declared that the doctrines held by Cocquerel were, in their opinion, untrue and perilous, and she thinks him the most persecuted of men. But, I said, what would you have these clergymen do? - aid Mr Cocquerel in his promulgation of doctrines regarded by them in this light? Certainly that could not be asked of them. Why doesn’t Mr Cocquerel if they refuse to fellowship him, apply to the government for permission to preach on his own account. Surely his followers are numerous enough to support him handsomely, and he no doubt would soon have a more flourishing congregation than ever before. “But this would be driving him into scism - he doesn’t want to be a scismatic.” I looked at Madame to see if she was in earnest. There was no doubt of it. Mr Cocquerel then I said, wishes to force the majority of French Protestant to retain him in their communion while he continues to preach doctrines held by them to be most heretical, because he is not willing to leave them and assume the odium of being a scismatic! For my part I thought this was decidedly a case in which he wanted to be the persecutor. If a man knew that he held opinions so contrary to the great body of Christians with whom he was connected he certainly had no right to insist on staying among them if they didn’t want him. Madame Monnet then admitted that there were certain loaves and fishes in the question. ‘Mr Cocquerel, as well as his father, has done much to build up Protestantism in France, to aid in the erection of churches, hospitals, schools, and was it fair to deprive him of all interest in these?’ I asked if the friends of Mr C__. expected the French Protestants to enter into a calculation of the value of the services rendered by this distinguished family and to make pecuniary restitution accordingly? She admitted it might be difficult, but still thought common justice required that they should not have laboured in vain. Here we dropped the discussion.

Tecco, Barone e Senatore, came to thank Mr Marsh for his new book. As usual he was very strong in his expresssions of disapprobation of the course of the Italian government towards the French - declares that Italy is now a mere province of France, and an oppressed province at that. The newspapers are interesting now from their lively discussions about the naval fight between the Kearsarge and the Alabama, and their speculations about the conference at London now so likely to prove a failure. The English journals bluster mightily again, but nobody who knows the England of today, supposes she is any more likely to fight on that account.

The Gajanis brought General and Madame Cerotti to pass the evening with us - nice people both. The General being particularly intelligent in his conversation, and agreeable in his manners.

We had no visitors today - the weather is rather warm now for much running about. We talked a little about an excursion to the mountains the latter part of next week, but I think we shall hardly make it out. Mr Marsh read me Thoreau’s description of the autumnal tints of New England trees - very fanciful, and exquisitely poetic in the main, though now and then he rather pushes matters to extremities.

‘Grant has passed the James River’ says the telegram this morning, and we know no more, whether with or without fighting. At any rate I should think Richmond must feel a little gêné just now. Mr R. J. Walker called about five o’clock, says they shall be in Turin only through tomorrow. He talks hopefully of our national prospects. I wish he had never done anything to mar them. After he left us. Before Mr Walker came the Conellis had been in to say goodbye before going to their villa on Maggiore - After tea Mr Marsh and Carrie went over to the Hotel to ask the Walkers to come and dine with us tomorrow, but they felt themselves too tired. In the meantime Miss Arbesser was with me till after nine o’clock. She told me a little state secret, and let slip another accidentally at the same moment. Our Prince Umberto is to marry the young princess Leopoldine of Brazil, and certain parties desire a marriage between the princess Marguerite and Prince Amadeo - the latter arrangement being one likely to suit the young people themselves, which is saying much in its favour. The Duchess leaves for d’Agilé and prince Thomas’ Castle tomorrow with her household.

Mr Marsh spent the morning lionizing with the Walkers, after which they all returned here. I found eighteen years had told heavily on Mrs Walker, and I suppose her observations upon me after our long separation were very similar. Still she is the same sincere, consciencious, and high-minded woman that I used to admire in Washington. Mr Walker, who used to look much older than his wife, has allowed her to overtake him. He is, as he always was, quiet in manner, but travels just as he used to live, as if he had the inexhaustible purse children wot of; This I suppose he does now on a more substantial capital than formerly though I fancy it is difficult to know much about the real state of the finances of this distinguished financier. While the Walkers were with us, a Mr Brooks of Boston was brought in by Mr Artoni. This gentleman I judge to be rather of the copperhead species, though he talked patriotism moderately. He unluckily however made a profession of faith in General McClellan, from which Mr Marsh declared himself a dissenter in very unmistakable terms. Mr Brooks did me the honour to inquire my nationality, and expressed much surprise when I told him that I was from Massachusetts like himself. I don’t know whether he intended this as a mode of flattery, or whether he really supposed Mr Marsh had picked up some wandering gypsy this side. Just after our visitors left Mrs Tottenham came and took Carrie to Villa Fracchia for the evening.

Mr Marsh went to the Hotel this morning to enquire for Mr Brooks, found he had gone with a large party of Americans, arrived last evening, but that Mr Walker had been taken ill and his party consequently detained. He also found Mr Thomas Potter, the President of the Union and Emancipation Society, and brother of our own acquaintance Sir John Potter, at the hotel with his family. A little later Mr and Mrs Potter came to pay us a visit. Mr Potter is a frank manly Englishman, a warm friend of our country, and a thorough democrat in the best sense of the word. His avowed political object, so far as his own country is concerned is, first of all, the abolishment of the primo-geniture laws, and the consequent humbling of the aristocracy which he declares has thrown itself obstinately across the track that leads to everything like real progress. Mrs Potter, I should rather have taken for an American than an Englishwoman. She has Richard Cobden’s second daughter, Nellie, with her.

I received Madame Gigliucci in bed, - also Portia who has just returned from England. They leave for St Didier tomorrow. Mr Marsh did not feel well after returning from a visit to Mr Walker, who is but little better, so Carrie was obliged to go to the Gigliuccis to spend the evening without he [r] uncle. While at the hotel Mr Marsh had another long talk with Mr Potter. The latter had been much amazed to learn from Massari, a prominent member of Parliament here, that there was a party, Massari himself being one of its leaders, which proposed to introduce into Italy precisely the English aristocratic organization - inferring that since England was so prosperous materially it must be owing to her aristocracy!! Poor Mr Potter is of course confounded and is labouring with no small zeal to disabuse these short-sighted statesmen

Being obliged to keep my bed myself, we are unable to do anything for the Potters. As to the Walkers of course there is nothing to be done but to wait for his recovery. Mr Marsh found him today very little, if at all, better.

I had supposed all visiting would be over before this time but the cards came in to-day like winter-snows - and I not up. Mr Walker better. Checcattelli, the Roman, came to see us with the Gajanis this evening. Mr Walker better.

Dined at the family-table to-day and hope to be well enough for an excursion on Monday. The new minister from Baden made his first visit & promises well socially - but oh the narrowness & selfishness of the ruling classes every where!

This morning C. did not come out to breakfast & Giacchino found her suffering from a billious attack that may put a stop to our scheme for to-morrow. The Countess Castellani brought her Inez to say good bye before going into the country. C. could not see her of course.

The doctor came to see Carrie last evening, left some remedies which did not answer the purpose and she was very ill all night. A cup of black tea put her to sleep (strange to say) at four this morning, and the doctor says she will be able to leave tomorrow. July 5th Tuesday. We conclude to go today in order not to disappoint brother Charles, though Carrie is rather weak and knocked up. _ _ _ _
_ _ _ _

(see note-book from July 5th to July 25th)

We got home at half past nine last evening, found all right and sent Gaetano immediately to the palace to find Miss Arbesser if he could. After making an uproar about the royal premises worthy of Majesty itself, our bould footman ascertained that the young lady had gone to bed! I was glad enough to do the same myself, and only the fear that Miss Arbesser would be much disappointed had made us send to her.

Before we had finished breakfast Mr Wheeler was ushered in, and from this time till half past ten P.M. there was a continuous stream of visits, social and business. First Mr Artoni and Mr Wheeler were to be furnished forth for an excursion to the Lys glacier, then a stray U. S. Consul, who finds himself in Turin with a wife and moneyless, has to be supplied with funds - our neighbors drop in to welcome us - a three weeks accumulation of letters and papers are crying out at us, and just as we think we can sit down to them for a moment after dinner Miss Arbessr is announced, - she having decided to risk another day’s stay at Turin. Then come Count Gigliucci and daughters, and at half past ten we go to bed more tired than with a day of glacier-travel.

A quieter day, but we still have abundant proofs that all the world isn’t in the country. Good Mrs Tottenham could not help a very amusing exhibition of her Irish humour while giving us some account of her guest, Mrs Stanley whom she had invited to her house for two days, but who had announced to the servants her intention of staying six weeks. Mrs T__ . has given up to her guest the large dressing-room adjoining her own chamber, and the contest between its occupant and her hostess for the possession of certain drawers is very comically described by the latter. By degrees Mrs S__. has most gracefully turned out of the room every article belonging to Mrs Tottenham. She takes at one time a portfolio of drawings, at another time a work-box, at another a writing desk, gives it into little Madeline’s hands, and says with the most charming politeness: “Here dear, take this to your Mamma, perhaps she may want it” - and so by degrees the visitor has developed, until the only space left for further expansion, is two drawers where Mrs Tottenham still holds out, because, as she says, the longer she retains these the longer she shall be able to hold her ground against assault in other parts of the house - these being sure to be attacked as soon as everything is surrendered in this first room. Carrie passed the evening with the Gigliuccis

The Gigliucci in their turn came to us this evening, and we said a regretful goodbye till November.

Our pile of work melts away by degrees and we are beginning to subside into the old calm - or rather should be if preparations were not making for another excursion - but this time I intend to be left behind.

Mr Clay dined with us today, and told us something of the pleasures and the pains of his two months absence. He gave a more particular account than I have before seen of the disgraceful system of espionage practiced upon Garibaldi during his late visit to Ischia - far worthier the government of Bomba than that of the Re Galantuomo. The Gajani were with us to tea.

Mr Wheeler and Mr Artoni came in to report their return, and to tell us how much they had been delighted. Mr Artoni was more enthusiastic than I have ever seen him before. With this and other interruptions, letters to be written &c. &c. our Sunday was no Sunday. The heat is very oppressive, though the thermometer does not get above 87 Fahr. A letter from Miss Arbesser tells me that H.R.H. expects that I will ask to be allowed to pay her a visit when I come to Baveno again, and intimates that my shirking of last winter has not been unnoticed. Well, this involves a new dress and accompaniments, and the trouble of taking luggage and servant to Baveno. If I were well and could go to see her with the rest of the Diplomatic ladies on all ceremonial occasions etc. the Duchess would consider me a bore. As it is, her curiosity is piqued, she would like to know whether I am ill or indifferent, and so she really wishes me to come to her.

How very odd! Just as I am vexing myself how to get without too much trouble a dress in which to pay my homage to the Duchess, a note comes in from the Baronne de Gautier to say that une robe très élégante has just been offered to her which she should certainly take but for her continual ill-health; that it is very reasonable etc. I was too busy at the moment to attend to it as husband and Charles are preparing their bags for Monte Viso, but shall send for the dress later. At twelve they left us, and Carrie and I settled down afterward as quietly as we could -

The dress has come - is really beautiful, and will save me an immense deal of trouble. A brisk sharp correspondence however has been going on between Turin and Pino ever since yesterday morning to come to an understanding, and we are all right now I believe. Carrie and I read, write, draw, etc and the hours roll away quite fast enough. The news from America has cheered us not a little. Atlanta taken and Grant’s prospects good. Even the Saturday Review is decent this week notwithstanding the rebel raid. We had a good Italian lesson in a long talk with Mr Artoni after tea, and later, my paragon, the Baroness, came to talk over the dress, and the visit she so kindly urges us to make her at Pino. It is so sad to see this marvellously gifted woman broken down by sorrow and pain.

A little shopping and a visit from the Monnets in the evening were our only interruptions today. We read from Dante, Haunted Hearts, etc, wrote some letters, and lounged through the hottest parts of the day. A base article in the Opinione, on American affairs vexed my soul for a few minutes. It is mortifying to a lover of Italy, to see how her press has become the tool of France.

Letter from Miss Arbesser to say that H.R.H. proposes to her a ten days rest after the 18th, and expressing a wish to join us in a mountain excursion. - Should be glad to gratify her but am afraid we can’t manage it. Good news continues to come in from America. The Daily News is jubilant - our enemies disappointed and spiteful.

More than a month since my last date here - and a month so hurried, and in many respects so trying. On the 8th of Aug. we left for an excursion with brother Charles up the Val d’Aosta as far as Courmayer, did all manner of impossible things there, met the Matteuccis came down to Aosta on the 16th - met the Pasolinis there, the Matteuccis again, said good-bye to brother Charles on the morning of the 17th (he going over the Great St Bernard on his homeward way) waited a whole day at Aosta for a carriage, came down to Turin on the 18th, made preparations on the 19th for another excursion, received Mrs Valerio on the 20th. On the 21st I was scarcely able to leave my bed, on the 22nd C. & I were both ill from a billious attack having passed a sleepless night. But we were pledged to Mrs Valerio & Miss Arbesser to get off to-day. I managed to get up before noon & set about my part of the packing. The Countess Castellani came before I had half finished, the Pasolini two minutes after she left, & I found myself within 2 hours of the time of starting faint, flurried & behind hand, & C. not yet risen from her bed. She, however thought she could go, if G. could pack up every thing for her, and the poor child came out at the last moment, pale & tremulous but resolute. In short we got off in spite of difficulties arrived at Arona at midnight, left the next morning at 5 took up Miss Arbesser at Stresa, breakfasted at Baveno where the Collegno met us, also the Countess Bernezza drove on to Domodossola partly through rain, took a déjeune à la fourchette there & went on to Isella to sleep. We had a splendid drive from Domo to Isella every thing new to the two ladies though so familiar to to [sic] us. Early in the morning we drove up nearly to the summit of the Simplon pass - wind bitterly cold but views as fine as conceivable, returned to Isella to breakfast - to Domo - to dinner & sleep. Thursday noon the 25th we set off early for Premia & after breakfasting there Mr M. took Mrs V. & Miss A. on a mule trip up the V. Formazza, C. & I remaining behind to rest for the morning. The ladies did not promise brilliantly, still it was thought they might be got up the Alp Devero and accordingly the next day we made as early a start as we could. It proved a most enchanting excursion as far as the scenery goes, but our traveling companions found it very formidable. Between fatigue & fear they nearly gave out, & I must confess the giddy heights were enough to make the inexperienced quail. We rested a couple of hours in a poor châlet on the summit, (the rich Alberto Emanuele having refused us entrance into his palazzo and bidding bidden us go to a very undesirable place instead) and then began the steep descent in a light rain which fortunately was soon over. It snowed while we were on the top of the Alp. Our guides gave us some account of this same Alberto Emanuele “uomo senza Dio, lunatico etc.” One wife he had murdered, accidentally he made his judges believe, a second had been found dead in her bed, and yet he had been able to induce a third woman to trust herself to his BlueBeard ship. We had a light drizzling rain for the first half hour of the descent and the mists interfered a good deal with the view into the valley, still it was wonderful. The ladies were too timid to ride and not strong enough to walk and we made but slow progress. After we reached the level of the stream Carrie bounded on before to order the dinner - indeed she had nearly doubled the distance all the way by running after flowers, chasing the poor little dog that attended us, to deck him with garlands which he didn’t at all appreciate etc. It was almost dark when we reached the door of our inn at Premia, the majority sadly tired, but all delighted with what we had seen. An hour or something less perhaps after striking into the Val Devero we came upon a most beautiful waterfall, extremely like what we have christened the Lace waterfall near Isella. It is higher and the quantity of water greater than this latter, and at its head we were told stood the village of Agora, quite invisible from below, and accessible only to goats or mountaineers on foot. The lower half of that waterfall seemed composed of countless little gothic cathedrals, inverted, and dropping not very rapidly, but in uninterrupted succession into the basin below. We talked over this and all the wonderful things we had seen, the good-natured hospitality of the poor châlet where we had rested, the brutality of the Dives etc. and went to bed as early as we could, in anticipation of a five o’clock start next morning. And we were literally in the carriage and off precisely at five, breakfasted and changed clothes in dire precipitation at Domo d’Ossola, and drove furiously down to Baveno expecting to miss the steamer which we did not. The Collegnos went up with us to Luino, there we took a carriage and were in Lugano at dinner-time. Sunday, having found that Monte Generoso could be done in one day, we telegraphed to the Countess that we would wait till Wednesday, in which case she had promised to join us. This done we went to see Luini’s great picture having first found that we could not get into to the overflowing English-chapel. The remainder of the day we rested, seeing no one but the Clarks. The two ladies came very near a collision today, but fortunately no mischief was done. It certainly required very skillful engineering during the whole trip. Monday morning we took a long drive around the Monte Salvatore - Tuesday morning Mr Marsh and Carrie did the mountain proper in some incredibly short space of time, and came back neither tired nor sorry. At noon the Countess Collegno and Margherita arrived accompanied by the Marquis Arconati, and Alessandro, dei Conti Trotti, to give him his title. All were in the best spirits, the old Marquis gay as a boy. I could not help thinking as I looked thim at him and watched the lively dancing of his eye, of his famous bon mot. He was among those patriots condemned to death in 1821, but having escaped he was travelling with his wife in a good deal of style in some part of Switzerland or France, when he happened to stop at a hotel which was already honoured by the presence of Prince Metternich. The latter noticed the splendid carriage of the Marquis when it drove up and enquired to whom it belonged. The host told the Marquis Arconati that the Prince had made the enquiry. “Dites-lui” said the Marquis, “que c’est le Marquis Arconati qui voyage avec sa veuve!” Unfortunately he could only make us a short visit, but offered to take Miss Arbesser to Como. She could not go, or did not wish to just then. Two hours later, the card of the young Marquis Arconati was brought to her, with a message that he had gone up the Salvatore. The servant brought news of our return just before dinner - we sent for him to join our party, and the much-talked-of Giannmartino actually presented himself in his fancy knickerbockers, a perfect cloud of perfume attending him. In spite of the [illegible] carpet-knight air about him, there is unmistakable genius in the young man, and a vast amount of knowledge. On the whole we liked him much. At two the next morning those of our party who were to do the Generoso were called, and they were off at three The Countess, Miss Arbesser and I being the drones, breakfasted at nine, At eleven Miss A__ left us for Balbianello, and the Countess and I had a tête-a-tête for the rest of the day. At six all came back well, after prosperous ascension, we dined merrily, and the next morning were on our way to Baveno again. The Collegnos took off Carrie to their villa to dine. I should have said that the will o’ the wisp Marquis met us at Luino. Friday morning Mr Marsh went back to Turin, leaving me to wait for the Duchess. Towards evening the Balls arrived, young Trotti also from Balbianello. Saturday Miss Arbesser wrote to say the Duchess would not come as expected and I decided to return to Turin the next day. In the meantime our friends at the Villa Collegno were unceasing in their kind attentions, they were with us every moment they could spare, and accompanied us on the boat as far as Stresa on our homeward way. The weather was showery, and we expected nothing from the mountains, but we were not more than a half hour from Arona before a lady in the compartment with us called the attention of her companion to some hills on our left. They were glowing as if in a rosy sunset, though it was not five o’clock, and the rain-drops were still falling. We changed our direction a little soon after, and suddenly on our right Monte Rosa loomed up as if sheeted over with moonlight. Fresh snow had fallen very low on this majestic mountain, and it stood out as if entirely separate from the rest of the chain, and many miles nearer to us. The light which rested on it was precisely that in which some fifteen years ago we first saw the Maratime [Maritime] Alps on our way from Marseilles to Nice - a sight I can never forget, nor shall I that of Monte Rosa on this Sunday afternoon. The clouds too were very magnificent, and half an hour before sunset the sky cleared perfectly in the West, while the whole Eastern heaven was filled with blackness. The lightning flashed, the thunder pealed, and a gorgeous rainbow flamed out on our right. For the first time in Italy we noticed that our fellow-travellers were keenly observant of the phenomena that surrounded them. I was so sorry that Mr Marsh should miss this opportunity of seeing his mountain-idols in such glory. Alex. met us at Novara, Mr Marsh at the Turin station, and home looked so cheerful and quiet.

More than ten days have passed since our return home & I have not yet overtaken the work that has fallen behind - not yet quite fallen in with the old regular ways. How well Longfellow has described the crushing weight of the something left undone. These ten days have passed very quietly - few interruptions from visitors, few unexpected calls upon our time, and yet there is so much of our proposed summer’s work not yet overtaken. Home newspapers unavoidedly take up a vast deal of time - home letters scarcely less, and there are few hours left for reading, and alas, how little even of those few can I turn to any account, but santa pazienza! This evening at tea-time Mr Artoni came in & gave us quite an electric start by telling us that the recent rumors about a treaty with France, one article of which contain, a stipulation for the withdrawal of the French troops from Rome at the end of two years, are confirmed and more than this that the seat of government is to be at once removed to Florence. For nearly four years we have been listening to prophecies & promises on this subject till we are slow of faith - and even if all is confirmed we shall not believe that the French Emperor means any benefit to Italy. Still perhaps we should be just enough to suspend our judgment till the terms of the treaty are made known.

Between the news last night & and the confirmation of the taking of Atlanta & Fort Morgan this morning we are not likely to subside into a calm for some time. It is wonderful how quiet this phlegmatic city remains, while all its interests are at stake in this way, but there is not even a street-gathering or a street-cry.

The papers begin to discuss the new treaty - its rumored conditions etc. but as nothing will be known certainly till the parliament meets on the 4th of Oct. these dis cussions can only suppositions. A general suspicion, however, appears every where that the emperor intends this to be a total & final renunciation of Rome on the part of the king of Italy - a renunciation which the Italians say they will never never consent too. Mr M. suspects or rather is convinced of still more. He is satisfied that the emperor means to cast off from the Italian kingdom every thing south of Tuscany forging out of it a crown for a Murat or a Bonaparte.

The Turinese are getting roused by degrees. Exciting brochures are coming out. The journals hardly dare to advocate the removal of the capital to Florence. The Opinione says this morning that the Emperor made this removal a condition of the treaty by which he promises to leave Rome. This is a view of the case that will not be palatable to the anti-French party and will be rather damaging to the project. The syndic Rora is obstreprous, so is Sclopis. The Monnets were with us this evening, and the little doctor is furious. “Cet Empereur,” says he “a ses deux grosses bottes sur l notre Italie, et il veut l’écraser, mais Mon Dieù, il y aura une centaine de poignards prêts à la venger sur sa personne, et un beau matin il se trouvera assassiné. Il èst fou d’exciter tellement un peuple dejà exaspéré!” Everybody sees in the scheme an implied renunciation of Rome. There was the feeblest of demonstrations in the street tonight, - a little band crying abasso il Ministero, O Roma o morte, but this is a cool people, and will be roused but slowly.

The Opinione this morning sets up a very curious defence of the Ministry in its policy of making Florence the capital, says that it was not intended either by them or the Emperor as a renunciation of Rome, but only done to serve as a pretext for the Emperor to make the Catholic party believe it was so intended. Here is diplomacy and statesmanship indeed! I could not help thinking, when Mr Marsh read me the article, a remark of our merry Saxe with regard to publishers, amd applying it to all politicians of all nations - - “oh they’ll all be damned.” Today the municipality holds a great meeting which is looked forward to with considerable interest. Not only the fortunes of the city are at stake, but all our personal friends are in a great dilemma. I asked Mrs Tottenham yesterday what they should do, and she said they had no idea what course they should take, or where they should go, if they left - Poor thing! She has undergone such a trial of faith and patience with Mrs Stanley that she can scarcely think of anything else, even though she has so many weightier things to think of. Mrs Stanley’s spirit of contradiction reached the extraordinary point of declaring to Mr Tottenham that, in spite of his most positive assurances to the contrary, his mother’s name was Tottenham. “My mother’s name was Maude - She was the sister of Lord __ whom you know very well.” “Yes, I know Lord __ very well, but his sister was not your mother. I have always known that your mother is was a Tottenham as well as your father” This was rather too much even for the equinimity of the Reverend gentleman. He flew to his peerage book and showed the marriage of Miss Maude with his father. “Now, Mrs Stanley, I hope you are convinced”. “Mr Tottenham,” said she after a moment’s pause in which she had read and reread the paragraph, “I have always heard that there were a great many very gross mistakes in this book. Indeed every one says it is very carelessly done.” This was so extravagant that it composed the good parson at once, and he said: Oh, never mind, we won’t talk any more about it then, and he went out leaving the fair Rosamond to look upon her picture in the Book of Beauty - the only consolation that this poor, forlorn, shattered woman seems to have left. Not even an Italian superanuated beauty can be more utterly without resources than this Englishwoman, from whom every trace of her youthful charms has fled / About five o’clock the excitement of the populace to know what was doing in the municipio became very great, stones began to fly, the police armed itself and tried to disperse the crowd with naked swords, word was sent to the syndic who was presiding at the meeting, that the citizens and the government were likely to come in violent collision, A deputation was sent out to the people to beg them to be quiet, and by degrees they dispersed. They assembled again in the evening however, and when our servants came in about nine they reported that all the principal streets and squares were thronged, that demonstrations were being made against the offices of some of the government journals, and that even the Royal Arms had been torn down from the questura and knocked to pieces to the cry of Abbasso il Re! This sounds serious but everything is so comparatively quiet in our Via d’Angennes that it is hard to believe the disturbance will amount to anything.

We retired early last night but were scarcely in bed before the sound of drums, increased shouting and the rapid hurrying of feet even through our quiet street, brought us to our windows. A few scattering soldiers of the Home Guard, here and there a gend’arme and a considerable number of citizens, mostly well-dressed and quiet looking, were passing down towards the Vittorio Emanuele. Besides these there were a few small groups of rough-looking characters within sight, and among these, under our own windows one very ugly-looking fellow with an immense club, who was pointing at the door of one of the government offices opposite our house. He was evidently trying to induce his comrades to join him in an attempt to batter in the door, but two gens d’arme were standing there and before they could get courage to make the attack, a little handful of soldiers came up and dispersed them. The noise and shouting from a distance however lasted till near midnight, but it was so moderate compared with what I have often heard in our own cities without the least harm being done that I went to sleep quietly, without even telling Mr Marsh that I almost fancied I had heard firing, it seemed to me so improbable that anything so serious could take place without more commotion. This morning however we learn to our astonishment and grief that many persons were killed and wounded - that the gendarmeria fired on the populace, (some say at the order of Peruzzi,) that the Home Guards then attacked the gendarmeria, arrested many, and wounded others. A partial barricade was thrown up in the Piazza San Carlo, an attempt was made to call out all the citizens to arms but about midnight quiet was restored. This morning the Piazze are filled with soldiers, and no doubt the government is summoning others by telegraph as fast as possible. There is a strong suspicion that the King has been urged by the French Emperor and by some of his minister to a colpo di Stato. The Diritto speaks of it as possible and says: Per Dio! siamo qui? I hope better things of Victor Emmanuel, but why is he not here in a time like this! They say he is at the Veneria, but the place of a King is in his capital at such a moment. It is impossible not to admit that even in Piedmont, the royal home of such a long line of ancestors, the King has lost the respect of his subjects by the selfish indulgence of his personal tastes and vices when he should have been devoting all his energies to building up his new Kingdom. A brave and a loyal man they believe him still, but the last adjective will certainly be dropped from his name if he follows the counsels of the false Frenchman much further, and the galantuomo will be sunk forever. The doings of the municipio yesterday were interesting in some respects, Rorà said some very happy things, among others, that the first notice he had of the intended removal of the government to Florence was a proposal to indemnify Turin by a pecuniary compensation, and that to this he had replied - ‘If the removal is for the good of Italy Turin thinks too nobly to ask for pay - if it is only a political intrigue she thinks too nobly to sell herself’. A spirited resolution opposing the removal in case it was to be considered as a renunciation of Rome was unanimously adopted, (Menabrea having first left the council, verde come un morto, as the Gazzetta del Popolo says) with the exception of the vote of Prospero Balbo, who went against it because as he said, he was a catolico. And this is a son of Cesare Balbo!

About four o’clock yesterday things looked so threatening for the evening, that the Marquis Rorà made another effort to induce the National Guards to undertake the protection of the city. The rapell rapel was beaten through every street, and over and over again, but few would come out, their excuse being that they were not furnished with ammunition, without which it was useless to expose themselves. The syndic no doubt thought their presence might quiet the populace but feared to trust them fully armed lest a collision should take place between them and the soldiers. The piazze were filled with soldiers all day, and about sunset we heard the trot of cavalry crossing the Via d’Angennes. Shouting and cries which we could not distinguish, began much earlier than on the night before. There was nothing however during the whole evening in the appearance of our street which would have excited the least apprehension had I been in my own country, but as it was we were not without fear that something ill was going on. We retired as usual, and it was only this morning that we knew the terrible slaughter of the night. It is admitted that sixty persons were killed, and owing to the grossest mismanagement in placing the troops. They fired upon each other as well as upon the crowd. And while this awful business is going on Victor Emmanuel was not in his capital! About four o’clock however today P.M. Mr Artoni came in to tell us that the ministry had resigned, that La Marmora was to form a new one, and that the King was here. We breathed freely again, hoping that the worst evil we had been looking for - a colp [o] di Stato - was now out of the question, that our Re galantuomo, would be galantuomo still. I thought perhaps there might be some loyal demonstrate towards the King tonight, in honour of his dismissal of his hated ministry, and proposed to take one of the balconies of the Hotel d’Euope in order that we might have a sight of it, but even while I write a proclamation has been issued ordering all well-disposed people to keep within-doors tonight; so it seems alarm still prevails.

The abbé Baruffi, who has been absent nearly all summer, came in last evening to announce his return, and to talk over the important events of the week. As he is a member of the city council he could tell us much of their inside doings. Of course he is opposed to the removal of the Capital from Turin, though not because he is anxious to go to Rome - that could hardly be expected even of a liberal priest. He declares however that he can see in this treaty no signs of its being a triumph of the clerical party, which so many assert it to be. Knowing Menabrea to be so thorough a papiste I thought Baruffi would at least defend him but he did not, - he only said of him “Il a fait une triste figure en se défendant dans le conseil.” Our clerical friend says he does not see very far in politics but he thinks this unhappy treaty will lead to the abdication of Victor Emmanuel. Happy for Italy were there reason to believe that the prince who is likely to succeed him would prove a man better able to appreciate this high vocation than his father has been. Madame de Bunsen came in all flushed with excitement, and uttering all manner of imprecations against the Piedmontese, and expressing the greatest disgust that the King and his Ministers had “yielded to a mob.” I asked her if the Turinese had not had some provocation, if she thought it was just towards the Capital of Sardinia to take from her her ancient glory without a moment’s notice, and transfer it to another city. Madame de Bunsen said: ‘But they knew very well that Turin was not to continue to be the capital.’ ‘Yes’ I said, ‘and they are ready now to give it up for Rome, but they are asked to give it up for a city that has voluntarily annexed herself to Piedmont, that has refused to share with her sister-cities the burthens of taxation etc - but even this, say the Turinese, will bear if the King and his Ministers can assure us that the going to Florence is not a renunication of Rome but a step towards it.’ I found that the poor lady had not an idea on the subject beyond the vague one that Kings and Ministers ought not to yield to mobs, and when I called her attention to the fact that one of the Ministerial journals had said that the treaty would be carried through whether Parliament consented or not, and asked her if she thought such a threat as that justifiable in a constitutional goverment, I found she had so little notion of a constitutional government that it wasnot worth while to talk with her. Mr Tottenham who was present took courage from my effort to paliate the offences of the Turinese, and we succeeded in mollifying her a little at least -

We all went to church this morning, - saw very few soldiers in the streets, though yesterday, when we drove around the Piazza d’Armi there must have been at least a body of ten or twelve thousand in it. They were getting up their shelter-tents for the night, - some were spreading straw, some were stacking arms, knapsacks etc, some were boiling their messes in thin camp kettles, here a cloth was laid on the ground with bread, wine etc., an officers table evidently. Altogether the whole scene had rather a warlike aspect, but I hope we shall have peace now. The new Ministry is not yet made up, and the different cities and provinces of Italy are much agitated.

We heard no disturbance last night but were very much shocked to learn at the breakfast table that two men belonging to the Civic Guard were murdered in the street last night. This guard, which is a sort of city police, has always been very inefficient. Its members are paid but 40 sous per day, out of which they must clothe and feed themselves. Such a pittance of course will not secure the services of respectable men, and the consequence has been that the city police is worthless. What is to come of all this, it is impossible to foresee but the skies of our Italy are anything but bright now

The events of the last two or three days have been stirring enough, but C__’s eyes as well as mine having entirely given out I have been unable to record them. Our hopes that Ricasoli would come into the new Ministry have not been realized. After several long interviews with La-Marmora he has declined accepting a portfolio, but promises to sustain the Ministry with his best advice and most zealous aid whenever he can give any. Even yet the Ministry is not completed. The Outside of the city is calm, but within there are very ominous symptoms of deep-rooted resentment. One hour we are told that the good Gianduja will, on calm refection, reign himself patiently to the great sacrifice demanded of him, and the next the same person says with much agitation that he fears there will be no such thing as settling the matter peaceably etc. etc. Most of the old ministers have left town, not with the blessings of the population certainly, and Minghetti was protected with some difficulty at the Moncalieri station. Poor Baroness Gautier who spent last evening with us is extremely unhappy about what has passed and what is likely to pass. She gives up Italy as lost, for a generation at least, and it was quite touching to hear how her voice

trembled when she spoke of the Fischietto representing the maltreated Gianduia all tattered and bruised trying to gather up his little children. I have sent for the Fischietto. The King is said to be in much distress, refraining at the same time to see any of his old friends. Parliament is postponed to the 24th. We almost forget to talk of American news in the excitement that is immediately about us, but fortunately it continues to be cheering, otherwise we could not withdraw ourselves from it even as much as we do. Marguerite Trotti came in about one o’clock, staid an hour, and then left to return to us to dine. Mr Clay came in a little later to announce his return from Acqui, and to say that he had asked leave to go to America late in the autumn. He spoke of the unusual indulgence he had received from the government, and attributed it to his being a loyal man from a doubtful state. At the same time he stated that the situation of his affairs in Kentucky - a recent inheritance of negroes etc. etc. made it absolutely necessary from for him to get leave of absence, or to resign, and if the former is refused he must resort to the latter. I am very sorry for him altogether. After dinner the Countess Collegno came and passed the evening with us. She is most deeply pained by the recent events and used stronger language in condemnation of the conduct of the late ministry than I have ever heard her use before. Of the treaty itself she expressed no opinion, only said that no one could judge of that until it was made public. But of the manner in which it had been made known, or rather not made known, to the Piedmontese, she spoke with the greatest severity. Another very sad thing about the affair is that it has divided so many families. Marguerite says that her dear old grandfather is so excited against the Turinese that the Marchesa Arconati found it quite impossible to make him listen to calm reasoning, and that to prevent mauvais sang she went to see him no more at present. One would have expected the great Manzoni to have remembered enough of the services rendered, and the sacrifices made by Piedmont for Italy to have excused in her a moment of agitation and resentment, when her royal House which has been her pride and her idol for eight centuries, suddenly turns its back upon her, not to make Italy at Rome, but to gratify a false ally. The twenty four days that now lie between this and the meeting of Parliament will, it is to be hoped, do something toward bringing all parties to reason.

The Countess and Marguerite spent some time with us yesterday, and the former says that the Marquis Gino Caponi has given in his adhesion to the new treaty. On the whole I think it grows in favour. The understanding evidently is that France is to declare the treaty was made to preserve the temporal power of the pope; that Italy is to say that it is a step on the part of Victor Emanuel towards Rome, or as Mr Marsh homelily expresses it - ‘to one party it is pig, to the other puppy’. Mr Clay and Mr Artoni dined with us today, but if we left no Italian politics for a moment it was only to talk of our war at home. The Italian Ministry is at last formed, and has issued a sort of programme today vague enough certainly, saying that the treaty will be carried out with the consent of Parliament but maintaining silence as to what the treaty is. Mr Marsh had an interview with General La-Marmora today, and while there had an opportunity to talk up the treaty with Mr Elliot, who thinks it will prove a good thing for Italy in the end.

The Countess Gigliucci, in a letter received this morning, gives her hopes and fears about the new trattato. The adjectives she applies to the French Emperor, are expressive, if not complimentary, but her conclusion is, that since Providence has of late chosen the worst enemies of Italy to do her the best services she trusts that good will come even through this channel. The meeting at Naples the other day, was extremely interesting. Settembrini was very happy in bringing the names of Vittorio Emanuele and Garibaldi together, and a popolano is said to have spoken in his native dialect with great effect.

The removal of the office of the Legation into the lower rooms of our own Casa d’Angennes diverts our thoughts temporarily from the great questions of Italy, and the agitating uncertainties of our own country. Even the over-seeing of carpets, and dealing with Jews about furniture is almost a relief. Madame Giletta T and her daughter interrupted my occupations below by a visit and again the change of capital, the wrongs of the Turinese, their demerits as well as their virtues, must be discussed once more and in the midst of it came De Bunsen. The Giletta says that she personally is glad to go to Florence, though they must sacrifice nine years house rent. She insists that her persistence in Protestantism, and her having brought up her daughter in that faith has been a sore offence in the eyes of the Piedmontese, and that they have treated her with the extremest coldness in consequence. Speaking of the Piedmontese dialect she says that the aversion of a Piedmontese gentleman to Italian is intense. Even her husband, who might be supposed to be liberalized by travel declares that the stiffness & affectation of the so-called national speech is intolerable to him. Madame G__. looks to Florence to cure this and a great many other evils. De Bunsen was less violent than his wife had been, in condemning the Turinese, but he was rambling and incoherent as usual, didn’t stop to take breath during the hour that he stayed. This evening the Stampa contains what professes to be a frank statement of the stipulations of the treaty, and if this is true all the great excitement and bloodshed of the last fortnight would have been easily saved by making public the terms of the arrangement. I think however there can be little doubt that certain sentences greatly modifying the possible construction of the treaty have been added since Italy has spoken out so plainly that she will never renounce Rome.

The countess Pasolini talked with much apparent frankness today on the subject of the treaty. Of course I could not ask her directly whether the idea of Rome as the ultimate capital was given up but from the manner in which she spoke of the removal to Florence as a temporary arrangement, argued that the Florentines could well afford to build largely even if the government remained there but two years, as the increased prosperity of the country and the ever increasing influx of foreigners would fill up everything there even when it was no longer a capital, the earnestness with which she spoke of the measures to be taken in case of going to Rome - all these proved to me that Rome was not given up, or at least that she wished me to believe that it was not. As to Turin she admitted readily the worst of mismanagement in this affair on the part of the government. Her account of Florentine society, especially of the Russian portion of it would have been very diverting to a laughing philosopher if it was not to me. A Russian lady, calling herself the Princess N___ . was in Florence some years ago, and like Russian ladies generally, she was what we call in America, a grass-widow. This lady determined to give a magnificent ball, invited her guests some fifteen days beforehand, and then learned to her dismay that some fastidious dames were throwing out insinuations about her equivocal position, and that the ball was likely to be failure. She resolved on desperate measures, - telegraphed to her husband begging him to overlook by-gones just for this once, and come to her if it was but for a day, that it was the last favour she would ever ask etc. The compliant husband came on, post haste, showed himself for a day in the gay city, gave his wife a terrible beating, and returned to St Petersburg. The lady’s object was accomplished, her ball was a success, and I infer from the countess’s manner of telling the story, that the heroine did not think the price she had paid too high. Madame Menabrea charitably hopes our civil-war may do something towards ‘civilizing’ us a little (as she once said inadvertently in my presence) - I wonder if we need it more than some of the lights of this hemisphere.

Mrs Tottenham had some interesting things to tell us this morning - one of which was the substance of a conversation between the King and a friend whom she did not name, but who, I infer, was Mr Elliot. Mrs T__ kindly told us as she thought it might have some influence on our arrangements for the winter, but of course under a seal of present secrecy. The King lamented the necessity of the promise given to remove the seat of government, but said it would be done very gradually, even after a beginning was made, and that this beginning would be put off as long as possible, that six months might elapse before anything of importance was done in that direction, and in the meantime six months might give birth to events that would make further steps towards Florence unnecessary. The gentleman who had this conversation with the King in speaking of it afterwards said of His M__. “Poor man: he has had a miserable education his is surrounded by unwise counsellors, but he has a heart of gold.” One thing must be admitted, that though he listened too long to the late Ministry, he acted boldly and prudently when at last he took matters into his own hand. I often wish our government had more relations with this of a character that would give Mr Marsh an excuse for more frequent personal interviews with the King.

This morning we went to the Gallery of pictures and selected which we thought would please the Bulls. We offered our price for it and whether we shall have it remains to be seen. Then, alas, came shopping - one of the most disagreeable duties in life. I cannot bargain with shop-keepers, and of course am always imposed upon but I prefer to have fewer things rather than fight for them - so our day was lost.

The thermometer for the last two or three days has stood at fifty Fahr. in the house, in the morning, and scarcely risen above 55 during the day, though the sun is glowing bright. We have resisted the temptation to fires, but have really been able to do little but shiver and grumble. Good news from home keeps up our spirits, and the treaty discussions still occupy our attention a good deal. Mr Artoni is now fairly installed in the lower rooms of our Casa and seems very comfortable and happy. Mr Clay even, expresses a regret that he had not asked for a room here which he certainly should have had. He sent up the Débats this morning with an article on our affairs in which the reelection of Lincoln is advocated. Mr Marsh read the article aloud to me, but when he came to a paragraph that admitted Mr Lincoln to be a man without genius, but praised his integrity of purpose, his inaccessibility to partisan arguments, which it said had no more effect upon him than water poured upon marble, my reader exclaimed - “better have said, - than pouring water on a goose!”

A continual tide of good news from America has been flowing in upon us for several days, and occupies our thoughts almost to the exclusion of everything else, even of the interests of Italy in which we feel so deep a concern. Mr Marsh who went to church without us yesterday, C. and I being both on the invalid list, told us rather a curious incident of the morning. A lady put out her hand to take a prayer-book lying on the little frame before her, when a gentleman, who seems to have some prior title to it, said, in a tone of voice loud enough to be heard in every part of the room - “Well now, that’s what I call cool! Wont you have my hat?” The lady had self-posession enough to remain perfectly quiet without seeming in the least to notice the rudeness. This afternoon Plana’s [illegible] strange daughter made us a long visit. She says, what is very easy to believe, that since her father’s death she lives on without aim and without enjoyment. She never mentions her mother with the least affection, partly probably from a feeling that her miserable marriage was the work of this mother. Poor Sofia herself is evidently half mad, whether from trouble or by nature one cannot say now. She is stronger in her feelings against the King and the late Ministry than anyone I have talked with, but I think she differs from the rest only perhaps in expression. Mrs Hazard, a franco-american, also paid a long visit. She is a pretty woman, bright and intelligent, and Mr Stillman vouches for her as an estimable woman, otherwise her peculiar position would have excited distrust. A shamelessly bad husband however excuses a woman for apprearing without him at least.

I sent the Countess Pasolini yesterday morning a little book on the charities of our war, in return for which she sent me a nice little note, and came the same afternoon to thank me in person and talk it over - While talking with her and feeling the influence of her charming manner and conversation I could not help thinking of a remark I saw this morning in the Athenæum taken I think from a book by Miss Cornwallis and attributed by her to her father - “Most women place half their glory in being mothers, the other half in being fools.” The Countess Pasolini does certainly feel the pride of the mother, but it is pleasant to see that even in Italy there are women who do not place the other half of their glory in being fools - and this gentle, sweet-voiced creature is one of them

The weather continues cold for the season and we are all suffering from it more or less - colds in the head, lost voices, and other troubles that have quite unfitted us for doing anything. Dr Migliavacca, the generous donor of very valuable autographs to the N.Y. Fair, came to see us Wednesday, and we liked him very much. He is a man of learning, and now occupied in getting out an edition of Muratori. He was not very enthusiastic about the treaty, and says it is ’favoured at Milan only on the belief that it is not a renunciation of Rome. When Mr Marsh renewed his thanks for the autographs, he said that he had a large collection still remaining (he having given 50,000 francs at one time for manuscripts and autographs) and that he would willingly give more whenever they could benefit our good cause. The Gajanis have returned

and spent last evening with us. Mr Gajani too, is cool about the treaty, fears mischief, but hopes that Parliament will renew its vote that Rome is to be the ultimate capital of the Kingdom, even though they it accept Florence temporarily. He says that the Pope will be able to sustain himself by foreign Catholic troops, by artfully managing to exile from Rome, during the two remaining years of French occupation, every man, that is every Italian, of liberal principles, that this work he has already begun, and that he will carry it on remorselessly till he has left nothing in the pontifical city except cardinals, priests, and their wretched and degraded tools. This is a view I have not heard suggested before.

The abbé Baruffi came in this last evening especially I think to talk over a little article of his which appeared in the Gazzetta today on the subject of the mad colony at Gheel in Belgium, but of course the convention and its consequences formed the staple of our talk. Our friend says there is great activity among the disaffected of all parties, and that great pains are taken by the city authorities to gather up the mischievous handbills etc. scattered by night through the streets. The heading of one he quoted to us - Un regnoda vendera, un padrone da pendere! I spoke to the abbé about the new step in liberalism just made by Russia - vis the permission for travellers in Russia to carry with them travelling maps and guide books, provided that each traveler had but a single copy, and that this copy bore unmistakable marks of use. He laughed, and gave his own experience when a traveller in that favoured land. Having been annoyed in a most vexatious way about his passport he gave an account of it in a little brochure after his return to Italy. Soon after he received a letter from a Russian friend, advising him not to make a second journey into Russia, as he and his book were on the index.

The town is now full of Senators and deputies and an abundance of what we in America should call caucusing caucusing is going on. People generally too are coming into town a little, though we have few visits as yet. The new Greek consul-general, Mano, who has considerable reputation as a writer has been to see Mr Marsh and sent him one of his works - very orthodox in its character and by no means complimentary either to Protestants or Catholics. The most agreeable visit that I have to speak of since my last date, is that of Mme Rothan. She has returned in better health than when she left Turin in the spring, but with her lungs in too weak a state to risk a winter here, and she goes in a few days to Nervi. I am so sorry for this necessity, I am afraid not less for my own sake than hers. If all the agreeable qualities of the other diplomatic ladies were concentrated into one I should prefer the Rothan even to that one. In the phraseology of today, she so completely “overlooks the situation” in all the great questions that interest the world at this moment that you feel as if you were talking to the wisest, calmest, and most experienced of statemen instead of a lady still very young, who is obliged to spend most of her time in fashionable society, and who is a Frenchwoman besides. Giovanni Gigliucci was with us a few minutes yesterday. The poor boy finds his new position as infantry officer rather harder than he expected, and he thinks he shall study hard enough to get into the Staff, a more difficult thing I fancy than he suspects.

A good many neighborhood visits yesterday, but none of special interest. The Convention is I think, gaining favour every day even with the most cautious. The general opinion is settling down on the conviction that the emperor has asked for the removal of the captial to Florence only as a sop to the clerical party. There is still a feeling of uneasiness about the tranqiullity of Turin during the debates of Parliament, but if everything goes well, and the treaty is sanctioned it is thought La Marmora will immediately give way and return to Naples, leaving probably Ricasoli in his place. This is a consummation devoutly to be wished for. On the other side it is mournful to say that there are even whispers of Rattazzi’s return to the Ministry, but I cannot think that the King will be imprudent enough to drive the friends of Garibaldi to [illegible] by such a madness by such an act. It is said that Victor Emmanuel has sent a confidential person to Garibaldi to ask him not to come to Turin for the Parliament. Young Captain Comstock came over in the Re di Portogallo, and is here trying to get a certificate from the government as to the satisfactory character of the ship. In private conversation all the Italian officers admit that the two frigates are not only the finest in their navy, but the finest in the Mediterranean and the Department of the Marine is not less complimentary, but it is impossible to get anything from them in writing. They are evidently afraid that the French will take it in bad part, if they should say anything that could be interpreted to imply a preference for the Yankee work over that of France. Even the semi-official journals are afraid to say anything, though every Italian who has seen the frigates speaks most enthusiastically in their praise. The young Princes, though they have both of them been recently at Genoa, either from indifference or policy, did not take the trouble to go on board.

We have very few interruptions just now, except such as are inevitable from the necessity of making winter preparations, the servants consulting us about wood and coal, putting down carpets, putting on double windows, etc. The cold weather has really come very unexpectedly - there not having been a day since the first of October when a fire would not have been decidedly comfortable - We have one only evenings however, and sit heroically all in rooms where the temperature is 56 Fahr. - hard case we should think this in Vermont. Among the books we have on hand is Rey’s History of Italy from 1815 to 1860, - very admirable. We have finished Buckle’s last volume greatly inferior to the preceding one both in ability and candor. The prospects of the treaty are I think, steadily improving, and even the most cautious are becoming favourable to it.

The Greek Consul General Mano asked especially to see me today so that I could not refuse though half ill and expecting dinner company besides. He is a dignified, quiet old man, who talks sensibly, but there is evidently a Greek in him. After his visit we had the curiosity to look into T__’s Greek History to see what he said of Santu Santa Rosa and Collegno. All the world knows that Collegno had the command of the defence of Navarino, which could not have held out at all but for his skill, perseverance and self-devotion. The historian, speaking of the “brave Greeks, who so heroically defended the place’ says they had for a comrade an Italian called Collegno! The great Santa Rosa is only mentioned incidentally, but in a rather more respectful way. Levi and the two Kossuths who came to see us on Sunday, are all opposed to the convention. Still they talk very moderately, and try to hope it may not turn out so badly. Levi mentioned a curious fact, if it is a fact, with regard to the Belgian elections. He says it is only by keeping up in full vigor the organization of the free Masons that the Protestants are able to hold their ground at all. Dr and Mrs Weld, fine specimens of the best New England character, spent the evening with us. They have been some days in town, and are making the most of their time, as they will wherever they are. Yesterday the Baroness Gautier was with us a long time. She looks so frail and worn that it makes one quite sad, and yet it seems to me as if her beauty could never have been more striking than it is now. It is painfully interesting to watch in her the struggle between her early prejudices and the more enlightened views which are now forcing themselves upon her, between her love for her country and human progress, and her devotion to catholicism and the Saint père. In the evening the Abbé Baruffi came to us, also Mr Castillia and the Welds. The Abbé had just returned from Milan where he says he found everybody violent against the Turinese -”Mais, qu’est-ce-que nous avons fait, nous autres pauvres Turinais?” asked my husband jocosely - “Eh, on nous a écorches vifs, et nous avons fait une petite grimace - voilà tout! Mais dans les circonstances, il est permis ce me semble de crier - Uh! - n’est-ce-pas? - mais non, les Milanais s’attendaient à nous entendre dire: Merci”

We have had but one day of sunshine since Sunday - yesterday. This morning it is raining again heavily and the floods all over the north of Italy are doing very serious mischief - Perhaps the perfect quiet of Turin during these days when Parliament is at work on such important questions, is in some measure due to the cooling effects of the rain. Louis Philippe’s favorite means of dispersing a mob was a free use of the fire-engines. The clouds have spared our authorities the necessity of calling out the pompiers. Orderly as we are here there seems to be a good deal of trouble in Venetia - All agree that considerable bands in the Garibaldino costume have made their appearance there. The govt. papers say that nearly all have been arrested, and treat the matter as of absolutely no importance. The Diritto on the contrary, asserts that the movement is of great importance, that the insurrection is extending, the bands of insurgents multiplying, and through its correspondents, cries loudly for help. Even in an editorial the friends of Venice are adjured to come to the rescue. The probable result of this demonstration will be the sacrifice of a few hundreds more of brave young martyrs, the remembrance of whose death will make the next attempt more desperate. We have just finished Rey, and are now reading Brofferio’s History of Piedmont from 1814 to ‘49. It is very spiritedly writen and full of interesting facts - Mrs Stanley was here yesterday on her way to Genoa for the winter. She seemed to be enjoying rather a lucid interval, and her comments upon the sudden awakening of the Turinese to the merits of Garibaldi were very funny. She says they say to her sometimes - ’We see you were not so wrong in your opinions about Garibaldi,’ where-upon she assumes an air of great indifference and replies - ‘Well it’s a pity you couldn’t have seen what everybody else saw before - you might have saved yourselves a good deal of mortification, and made your Italy a quarter of a century sooner than you will now after all this blundering.’ The Fischietto has Turin in full court costume with a bull’s head grasping the hand of Garibaldi in his usual dress, the Bull cries ‘Ah!’ - Garibaldi - ‘Oh!’ Another caricature represents G__. walking calmly on without showing the least symptom of surprise or agitation, while Boggio is grasping nervously at his arm and hurrying on after him as if trying to shelter himself under the wing of the Hero. Madame Sophie Plana kindly brought us today the two splendid gold medals which her father received - one from the Royal Society - the other I do not remember from what great Scientific association. But the special object of her visit was to consult Mr Marsh about the inscription to be placed on his tombstone. She brought three, two prepared by Ghingherelli, the other by Feruccio. The two first Mr Marsh liked for their brevity, but thought them not gracefully expressed; - the latter pleased him very much, except that he found it too long. He proposed the omission of two lines, not, as he thought essential to the distinctive character of the inscription, and, to my surprise Madame Sophie seemed pleased with the suggestion. She is to take it to Matteucci, and if he agrees with Mr Marsh, the omission is to be proposed to Feruccio. We showed her the little pamphlet with the autograph of her father which we had had bound, and she seemed much gratified; but the poor woman was on the whole even more mad than usaul yesterday, and talked of her intentions with regard to her father’s library etc. in the wildest way, and her resentment towards the govt for having shown no more gratitude for her father’s great services to science really reaches the pitch of insanity. The Count and Countess Castiglione Olcott came in between nine and ten in the evening, after I had gone to bed. The loss was not very great in my mind but I’m rather sorry to have any one meet with discouragements who comes to see us in the evening.

The heavy and incessant rains which have secured for us extraordinary quiet this week are at last subsiding, and this morning the sun is trying to force its way through the thick midst mists. We have just finished Enrichetta Caracciuolo’s story and I trust it will do much good out of Italy if not in it. The writer is evidently a woman of unusual unusual force of character; the manner in which she was drawn into the convent might seem to contradict this, but those who know the habits of submission enforced upon Italian girls will understand how to reconcile this seeming weakness with great native independence. The life which reduces ordinary women to imbecility only served to bring out the vigor of this unhappy victim of family pride and superstition. The chief interest of her narrative lies in the vivid picture she gives of the miserable failure of convent-life to bring out the graces which at first view one would fancy might thrive in solitude. One would think that a nun would be in little danger of becoming envious, jealous, selfish, avaricious; that there would be no temptations to hypocracy, falsehood, theft; but it is scarcely possible to read the strait-forward story of the Caracciuolo without not only believing that it is true, but seeing clearly that it must be true. This book has reminded me many many times during its reading, of Browning’s Soliloquy in a Spanish Cloister. We have made good progress this week in Brofferio’s History of Piedmont from ’14 to ’49.

Towards evening on Sunday Dr Adams of Boston came here to inquire for a friend of Giachino, the wife of a courier. She had already told us of the kindness she had recd from an American gentleman during her journey over Mont Cenis. She had been sent from England to Florence by her physician for change of climate, and the poor thing suffered sadly by the way. Her own account of Dr Adams’ kindness to her was very touching, and she closed it with these words, scarcely audible from weeping. “Indeed, ma’am, no countryman of mine would have done so much for a woman so far below him in station! And I told the American gentleman just who I was, so that he did not take me for a lady, but he was just as kind as if I had been, and I shall never never forget him.” The Dr, who had come to say he was going to Florence that evening and would take care of her if she wished to go on, asked to see Mr Marsh before he left, and made an impression not less favourable than that the poor sick woman had received. An hour or two after his travelling companion, Mr Hubbell, paid us a visit - a fine, soldierly looking young man who has served two years and eight months in the Federal Army. We were much pleased with his manly bearing and his manly opinions. He told us that his aunt Mrs Thrall of Brooklyn and her sister had been in a hospital for the last three months. In talking with Mr de Guerra on Monday about going to Florence we learned from him that he had taken his house here for three years, so we are by no means the worst off. Madame Peruzzi made us a long visit yesterday, as voluble as ever but more intelligible than I have sometimes found her. She does not hesitate to say that Rome is not given up, everybody in Florence understands that the transfer of the capital thither is but temporary, etc. etc. After she left we discussed the same great question with Count Gigliucci. He is less enthusiastic in favor of the Convention than I had expected to find him, and does say very frankly that he is unwilling to take his family to Florence, the society there being in no respect desirable. Madame Solvyns came while the Count was with us, to present the wife of the Mexican Minister, - an unusually handsome woman, born in Washington while her father was Brazilian Minister to our govt. Since that time she has spent six years in Washington and professes to like it very much.

The dismal weather continues. We should certainly have made a great mistake about the climate of Turin if we had left it at the end of the first year. There is far less sunshine than we then supposed, but the equability of the temperature is as remarkable as it was the first year. The thermometer has not varied above five degrees during the last thirty five days, ranging always between 55 and 60 Fahr. We read furiously now that we have so few interruptions, but constantly with a feeling that each quiet day will be the last of the season. Mr Elliot brought his new secretary, Mr Herries, to see us yesterday, a thorough Englishman, to whom I felt called upon to make a parting inclination of just one inch and a half from the perpendicular; Upon this he mollified, and made a tender enquiry after Mr Clay. If you want an Englishman to be civil, treat him haughtily. Mr Elliot is entirely free from this disagreeable national trait.

Friday evening a most magnificent bouquet was brought in which was recognizable at once as Genoese. It came from Mme Gautier. Yesterday she made us a long visit, and our chief topic was as usual the affairs of nations. She says that the revelations of Sella made in Parliament on Friday with regard to the state of the finance, and his proposed measures to fill the treasury, have thrown the public into a greater ferment if possible than did the first news of the convention - that all public men are literally stupified with astonishment. As to the anticipating of the property-tax of ‘65 they say it is impossible, and the new, or rather the increased tax upon salt will be violently opposed. The Baroness said, if Mr Sella had seen as often as she had seen, what a bitter day it was in the house of a contadino when the wife tremblingly asked the husband for a few more sous to replenish the salt-box, he would be very cautious how he made that article more expensive. The reproaches of the husband, the tears of the wife, the frightened looks of the little ones, - and all this through the dearness of one of the most important necessaries of life, the only seasoning for their miserable fare that the poor could in any way hope for. Mrs Tottenham had told us before that her landlord has been thrown into a semi-frenzy by the proposals of the Minister of Finance. La Signora del Prete, as Gaetano always calls her, amused me not a little by her lively account of her own and her little brother’s experiences with their governess; also of her early difficulties with the Catachism - especially with the question: “What did your godfather and godmother then for you?” - also Alice’s search for the Adjacent Islands. Count Gigliucci, who dined with us last evening admits that even the days of Villafranca were not so trying as these. He is not really discouraged but very anxious. Mr Marsh quoted to him, (with reference to Sella’s revelations) the Italian proverb - Un diavolo scaccia l’altro, and expressed his fear that it was not likely to turn out so in this case. The Count assented at once and said - ’On the contrary, the two devils had set themselves to work with the greatest harmony.’ Mr Marsh then asked what would

be the consequence if a third were to be thrown in, in the shape of a war with Austria. The Count shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, and after a moment’s pause added, “If the worst comes to the worst we can set fire to Europe, and that we have sworn to do. Liberals, moderate liberal, party of action and all, we have all sworn that we will go down like Samson if go down we must.” Five minutes after the Count left us the evening papers were brought in, and lo, verily, the third devil! Not, indeed, in the form of a war with Austria, but another bombshell from that eldest son of Anti-Christ, the French Emperor. He makes Nigra qualify his late Telegram (which Lanza had declared to be the true interpretation of the Convention as admitting by both contracting parties) so as absolutely to change its whole meaning, and declares openly that ‘Florence is not to be considered as a provisionary Capital, that the Convention is not an admission of the doctrine of non-intervention in the affairs of the Pope, and that France does reserve to herself the right to do what she thinks proper in case of an insurrection in Rome even after the French Troops shall have been withdrawn.’ There is not the least doubt that Italy would bolt at once if it were not for the strong municipal feeling against Turin. This feeling may induce Parliament still to accept the treaty, though every

body must see now that the French Emperor does not intend the Kingdom shall be the gainer by it. At any rate this open declaration on the part of the Emperor will furnish very strong arguments to the opposition. If it were left to me to act in our Victor’s peace I would go down as Carlo Alberto did at Novara rather than submit longer to such insults from that French imposter. Young Gigliucci came this morning to apologize for his non-appearance at dinner last evening. The Minister from Baden also came to present Madame, an amiable-looking little body, but sadly wanting in the grace that so distinguishes the ladies of Northern Italy. The Minister judges as we do about the convention, thinks that these last despatches have made it worse than a comedy, a degrading humiliation to Italy. I have never seen the good Abbé in such a state of excitement as he was this evening - he was absolutely dramatic. He had been present this morning at the distribution of Prizes at __ school. The Duchess of Genoa, Prince Amadeo and the young Prince Tomaso and Princess Margherita were there, and Torelli, the new minister of Public Instruction, was unfortunate enough to allude in the most melancholy way to the terrible crisis through which Italy is now passing. The impression was most pénible. The old gentleman also gave us a droll account of his efforts to cheer himself up a little one evening last week - First however, his conscience bade him go to see the Plana. He found them in the most dismal of moods, - lamenting in a very broken-hearted way over the loss of a thousand francs, which had disappeared that afternoon between the Bank and their own house - an old and most faithful servant had been sent for the money, brought it, and 1000 frs were found to be missing. The Bank would not hear to having made a mistake, the poor servant was in the greatest distress, and the ladies were furious. The Abbé left the scene of woe as soon as he could, and as he passed the house of an old friend whom he supposed to be still in the country, he noticed signs that the apartment was open, and went up accordingly. Here a scene of confusion presented itself even more serious than that he had just quitted. House-linen, clothing etc. were lying about in the greatest disorder, and two ladies were wringing their hands, and uttering extravagant exclamations. After a while the Abbé made out that they had just returned from the country, found their apartment had been broken open during their absence, and they were now trying to ascertain what was gone and what was left. The young lady had already missed six bracelets, and other jewels, the elder one all her household plate etc. Not finding much pour s’egarer here our friend took his leave and bethought him of another house where two ladies were leading a very quiet life - deux dames très pieuses as he expressed it, and here at least he expected to find peace if not amusement - After being received, and expressing the hope that the ladies had passed the day pleasantly - “not too pleasantly,” said one of them - “We went for ten minutes to say our prayers in the Church of Our Lady of Consolation and one of us was robbed of her portmonnaie, the other of her watch.” It is said also that an ingenius robbery was committed the other evening at a theatre. A well dressed woman, apparently a lady, rushed forward in delighted surprise to greet a dear old friend, as she said, embracing the gentleman in the warmest French style; the bewildered victim stammered out that he did not recollect her, etc. but the lady continued in a torrent of volubility to express her joy at the meeting, and a thousand regrets that her impatient husband was waiting for her in the carriage, - at which stage of the farce she dashed off, and had disappeared beyond the risk of being overtaken, when the gentleman discovered that he was minus his watch.

On Monday Mrs Tottenham came and took upon herself the trouble of looking up a nice piano for us - Madeline the nice child, spent the day with us. The evening papers gave us La Marmora’s spirited reply to the late most impertinent despatches of Drouyn de Lhuys. It cheered us not a little to see some signs of life and independence still left in the Italian government. Mr Marsh says this despatch of Lamarmora has one fatally weak point in it, namely that he does not protest against the right of France, or any other nation, to interfere between the pope and his subjects when the former shall have provided himself with his army and the French have retired from Rome. It may be faulty, but it is manly, dignified, bold and even rebuking in its tone, and does much to wipe away the recent humiliations the Italians have suffered. Tuesday I had a long visit from Mme Matteucci. She was discouraged about the prospects of Italy, and said she should be in despair but for the decisive firmness of La Marmora. Personally the Matteucci desire to go to Florence, but they look upon the Convention as a crime on the part of the late Ministry and a mistake on the part of the Italian people Piedmont they think forever alienated from the House of Savoy, which will find no real attachment in any other part of the Kingdom, least of all in Florence, a city that traditionally despises Kings. In the evening the Gajani, brought two Romans to see us: - Castellani & Buonfriani, and now we had an opportunity to hear the other side of the convention. These gentlemen are all three decidedly in favour of it chiefly on the ground that the one great fact accomplished, viz: the French once out of Rome no power in Europe can prevent the Romans from making themselves a part of Italy and staying so. My pessimed pessimist husband gives them a cold bath by saying very quietly: ‘The Emperor does not mean to leave Rome - he will do as he has done before - insist on your fulfilment of your part of the contract and then find a pretext for not fulfilling his’. Miss Arbesser came at nine, but did not seem in her usual spirits. She told us however some amusing things, not always quite conscious how funny they were - For instance - Count Gattinara, who came to Turin during the disturbances in September took back this report. - “Non c’e’niente - niente! Tutto il mondo mi ha salutato; e anche con più rispetto di prima” !! One must know something of an aristocrat’s ideas of revolution fully to appreciate this. Also some domestic pictures of the Arconati interior were amusing - Khartoom, the famous monkey brought by young Arconati from Egypt, and recently accepted at the palace, is not likely to turn out a successful courtier, and there is already talk of his banishment - even the halter has been suggested - All the credit the enterprising collecter receives for this specimen of natural history, is to be called a monstre for his pains. The wretched little beast flew at the princess the first time she approached him, and his “monkey tricks” have quite upset the palace. The good advice of his master, who gave him written directions how to rise at court when he took leave of him, were quite thrown away - Miss Arbesser has sent us this curious document, which contains is a keen satire on court life, and I cannot help being astonished at the boldness of the young Marquis to send it. These are democratic days, that is certain. Wednesday we had a day of sunshine, but the evening papers are full of inundations all over Italy, but especially in Tuscany - The railroads are swept off, and a considerable portion of Florence is standing in the water. This morning it rains again, and that monster of a Mattieu is having things all his own way. Wheeler’s new book on Brigandage is out, and the little man can hardly contain himself. Mr Marsh says the narrative part is not very well told, but that the political observations etc. are statesman-like, and show much ability - The Marquis Arconati Jr. spent an hour with Mr Marsh this morning talking over scientific matters and his proposed voyage to the East this winter - then I found them, and Carrie, and we talked a little politics. This brilliant young Italian chafes grievously under the French dependence and worse still the French insolence from which his country is suffering

Friday C. went to Miss Arbesser who took her all over the palace. She also had a glimpse of the Princess with just an opportunity for a salutation as she was going out to drive with the Duchess. Kisselem, the Russian Minister, made us a visit while she was gone - a diplomat of the old school, formally familiar and easy - using the stereotypes of society dexterously. His wife is a Roman and a liberal, and this marriage caused his removal from the papal court. Saturday our whole morning was taken up by a poor woman, a widow of a French Captain in the commercial marine, a strange and very distressing story, the intricacies of which it was all the more difficult to follow from the fact that the poor creature’s English was a strange mixture of German and French, or rather it was the New Orleans patois engrafted on a German stock. Giacchino went round to her in the evening and found her wretched enough in a garret of a third-class hotel. I spoke to my visitors about her Saturday and hope we may get a little help at least in taking care of her - She is afraid of being thrown into French hands unless she can be sure that they will not torment about her religion. She has suffered much of the Sisters of Paris. In spite of the floods on Monday poor old Mano the Greek consul General came to see us. He seems so lonely and desolate I cannot help pitying him will all my heart. He is something of a bigot, but intelligent and thoughtful. Not being in a really diplomatic position he will of course be snubbed by nearly all that respectable body, and having no family, and no compatriotes in this city of close corporations, he is desolate enough. Carrie spent Monday evening at the palace with Miss Arbesser, the Princess being with them till her bedtime. C. took a letter from Miss Sewell & another from Miss Yonge, both referring to some photographs I had sent them of the Princess, with a statement of the interest and delight the royal little lady had taken in their books, and the latter read them with much pleasure. A photograph too, of the King of Siam, which C. had put in her pocket, diverted her excessively. C.’s profusion of rich curls drawn up in a net also excited Madame Marguerite’s admiration, and the naughty monkey furnished another topic, so that the time passed altogether sans gêne. Just before Mr Marsh went out to pay visits yesterday Mr Hardman, correspondent of the London Times, called with his wife. In spite of the prejudice we could not help feeling against any man who writes for so shameless a paper, we could not help liking both Mr and Mrs Hardman - the latter, especially, has all that delightfully quiet simplicity of manner which marks the well-bred Englishwoman, while a long residence abroad has worn off everything like English reserve and shyness. We were friends at once. - This morning I must give to writing notes about the poor widow I have mentioned before, She took up my whole morning yesterday, or rather I took it up in trying to make out a written statement of her strange history, partly from herself and partly from her papers. At present it looks very much as if we should have to take care of her for the winter, or hand her over to the tender mercies of the Soeurs de Charité, the very mention of whom throws the poor woman almost into convulsions. ‘I am a Protestant by birth, and a Protestant the Lord shall take me out of the world, even if I die in the streets of hunger and cold.’

Madame Solvyns came towards evening Wednesday to present Mme Kisselem, nata Principessa Ruspoli, vedova Zorlonia. She is a very fine looking woman, large, finely formed, every way the very type of a Roman lady. I told her we were just reading in Story’s Roba di Roma, when she came in. She had seen Story and knew of his books. On the whole I rather took a fancy to her. Mrs Elliot made a long friendly visit later, and we condoled with each other over the prospect of too much of the society of our own countrymen at Florence. The Countess Maggiolini who was with me on Thursday, is more calm on the subject of the transfer of the capital than I expected to fine her - but she says the feeling against the King is deep and strong in Piedmont and fears it may manifest itself yet in some very decided way. Baron Ricasoli, who came in in the morning, sees the whole thing couleur de rose. There is probably not much doubt that Lamarmora will give place to him as soon as the convention is disposed of. Miss Arbesser dined with us Thursday and had some good court stories as usual. She declares the King is in absolute want, that he is plundered every way by the beggars about him commonly known as courtiers. The poor man even complains to the Duchess of the way in which he is robbed. A few day ago some gentlemen were breakfasting with him in one of his own private rooms, among them Persano and Count Castiglione. The latter wore an elegant velvet knickerbocker, which the former greatly admired saying at the same time that he would have one just like it for himself if he could afford it. As soon as possible afterward the King through Count Castiglione presented Persano with a similar suit. (as was expected) The Admiral wrote to Castiglione his thanks with the warmest encomiums on the generosity of the King, adding that one could never admire any thing in his presence without receiving it as a present after-wars, and saying moreover that it was very fortunate he had not spoken of a beautiful sea piece which had greatly delighted him in the cabinet where they breakfasted. The picture was sent to him the next day of course. Castillia was with us last evening (Friday) - A glorious second child-hood his, with the intellect of the man unimpaired. Mrs Hardman found me this morning in the midst of patterns from one of the great silk shops and they seemed to come more in her line than mine. The inspection finished we passed to more interesting subjects and she proved to be a person of even more intelligence than I had supposed from our first interview. She knows personally most of the English literati of the day, and she pounced on Frances Power Cobbe’s Italics with great eagerness, and she had permission to take it to her lodgings of course. De Bunsen entertained us for an hour before dinner with one of his incoherant cataracts of talk. Rev Mr Fletcher, American missionary in Brazil, dined with us, and told us many interesting things of the country, people, and emperor personally. He brought messages from the De Limas, photographs of their children etc - They are now in Paraguay. Through Mr Fletcher we were glad to hear news of our most excellent friend, Mr Richard Fletcher of Boston.

We spent yesterday, with the exception of the church hour, and the time taken up by a visit from the Kossuths, in trying to do something for the poor widow Lamour, who had been a nightmare upon us for the last ten days. Misfortune is had hard enough to relieve but when it is mixed with such an amount of folly, it is next to hopeless.

As the time of our probable return to America (for a visit at least) draws near I find it harder to keep up the dry record of daily events - a record which when begun was with a dfferent aim - but no matter, it may serve to recall to me much more than it has seemed worth while to write. Since my last date the social gossip and the parliamentary discussions have gone on as usual. The convention has been approved by the chamber of Deputies, and handed over to the Senate for discussion. The financial bill had met with equal good fortune. The income-tax will press very heavily on servants and petty employés, and is justly grumbled at accordingly. The friends and the enemies of the convention support and denounce it as before, but the French semi-official journals are less [illegible] insolent towards Italy. It is said that the Emperor sent from Compeigne a most snubbing message to La France with regard to a very philpapal article published in it “Cet article est inept d’un bout à l’antre” - chi sa? Sartiges, according to some anecdotes told us by Mr Solvyns the other day, is fencing with the Monsignori at Rome not without success. The other day a bevy of them were entertaining him with the wonderful history of the little Cohen. ‘Never had there been such an instance of the power of Divine Grace. The zeal with which the little convert embraced every new Christian doctrine propounded to him was most edifying, would melt any heart etc. etc.’ Sartiges, who had listened with evident impatience tried to interrupt their stream of eloquence by frequent shrugs, and reiterated oui, oui, s, said at last - “Eh bien, que quel âge a cet enfant, s’il vous plait?” “Huit ans”. “Eh, mon Dieu! voilà aussi mon enfant de huit ans, (and he pointed to his little son) et pour un morceau de chocolat je lui ferais embrasser toutes les religions du monde!” The excuse he gave his most reverend friends and advisers for the continued haesy [heresy] of Madame Sartiges deserves to be mentioned, In answer to their remonstrances and regrets on this subject he said - oui, oui, vous avez parfaitement raison, mais, voyez vous, ma femme a un oncle un peu vieux, qui est très riche, et très presbetérien, vous comprenez! and he threw out his fingers with a gesture more significant than his words. And the argument was admitted to be perfectly conclusive, and poor Mme Sartiges is left in peace - Monday night brought us the news of Pres. Lincoln’s reelection for which we thank God and take courage. Miss Arbesser came Wednesday greatly flurried by the arrival of a box from an English House, containing winter dresses etc, ordered three months ago, and long since given up. Other dresses had been purchased in their places, and she, who had acted as agent for some twenty four grandes dames was overwhelmed by this unexpected arrival. Half the ladies had sent her word they didn’t want the things, and what was she to do with them on her hands. Carrie went to the palace on Thursday to select our orders from the box, which however proved to be still in the custom-house. She was repaid for her trouble by seeing the Princess a little while and having the honor of caressing her dog which Mme Marguerite herself handed over to her for that purpose. In fact Carrie gets more of the sunshine of royalty than any of us. My poor old widow has nearly bored me to death this week. After having made as I supposed all the arrangements for her passage to New York, and momently expecting a telegram from Genoa to announce the hour of sailing, Mrs Valerio writes that she was mistaken as to the terms on which the Capt. would take her - that it would be 300 frs. instead of 200, that the vessel was not American but Prussian, that it was not bound for N. York but for Baltimore. Here was a pretty mess, but the destination of the vessel was a fatal objection. I would not send the poor creature where I had no acquaintances to whose charity to recommend her. We explained to the poor creature our disappointment which she bore pretty well, then Dr Monnet proposed to receive her into his refuge, and I sent her word to put her things in her box and to be ready to go there in the morning. An hour after she came in a semi hysteric fit, with cramps sobs and groans, declaring that somebody had told her that she was to be handed over to the police. I spent half an hour in efforts to compose her and make her understand. She went off satisfied, but the next morning when Gaetano took her to the pension she no sooner entered it than she began to cry and gasp and wring her hands and declare that she had been deceived &c. &c. I concluded to leave her to herself till towards evening when Giachino started to go and look after her. She met her just coming up stairs with the diaconesse and I directed that both of them should be sent in to me. The poor old woman had recovered her senses, and had come to apologize for her behaviour. She thought she had been betrayed into a maison de foux!! It would have been no unfit place for her if she had. The good diaconesse quite charmed us, and I am thankful to have the old woman in such hands. Miss Arbesser dined with us yesterday, is in fresh trouble about her maid whom Dr Arena declares to be in a consumption. The Duchess, who believes this disease to be contagious or infectious, insists that the girl must be sent to a hospital or to her friends. The latter are far away and not in circumstances to give her the comforts she will require and against the hospital the girl has that strong, even violent prejudice, so universal among the common people - The abbé came in after dinner, and while Mr Marsh was talking with another gentleman our worthy friend began to speak to me of the affairs of Italy. When he touched on the royal family I tried to look a warning at him - glanced meaningly at Miss A__ etc, but her didn’t take, and went on. Luckily Carrie drew off Miss A__’s attention just in time to prevent her hearing this conclusion to his sentence……. et le roi est tombé si bas, si bas! - on peut bien dire que la Maison de Savoie a cessé de regner!

Mrs Hardman brought us the other day the finest mosaic I have ever seen - It was about 2 inches by 3, the subject a cock, after Paul Potter. It was wrought at St Petersburg. The bill for the suppression of the Monasteries will probably fail. It is opposed by the codini, and all who fear codini, and priests. Our good friend the Abbé says nothing directly against it, but it is plain that he does not like it. Speaking of the hostility manifested everywhere towards religion he quoted one of his own sayings to Minghetti - “Vous frappez notre religion de tous côtés, mais avant de la détruire donnez nous quelqu’autre chose - pour l’amour de Dieu faites nous des Turcs même, plutôt que nous laisser sans Dieu!” An Englishwoman told me lately an anecdote so characteristic of this people that I record it - She went to a dentist to have a tooth extracted, and, not being over brave, sat down in tears by the side of a little boy of ten years old who was waiting his turn with many sobs. The poor child looked up, noticed her distress, and said, with a choking voice: “Coraggio, Madama, coraggio!” I am afraid a Yankee boy under similar circumstances would have taken a less sympathetic interest in a stranger. The Collegnos have returned, also the Arconatis and Marguerite was with us for an hour or two yesterday -

Our American Countess Castiglione came Tuesday with her husband and brother, the latter fresh from America, sailing the very day after the election for which he had waited. He came over with our dear old friends Mr and Mrs John Paine who are now in Paris. Mrs Tottenham and Mrs Elliot each made me a long visit and I always feel better for their good genial society. Carrie spent the evening again at the palace, took a volume of Mrs Browning to the princess, for which she recieved many thanks from Her little Royal Highness, and was loaded by her with books to read in return. She had just received a package from Miss Yonge and was in high spirits. Mr Cooley stopped with us an hour on his way to Florence. He too waited to vote, and he gives us encouraging news. Indeed affairs look pretty well at home just now. - I wish Italy had as good a prospect, but the irritation of Piedmont is by no means subsiding - the bitter things that are said are not a little startling, and even Count Castiglione, one of the King’s own ordinance officers, and a personal favorite of His Majesty told me that he fully believed that Victor Emmanuel was the last of the House of Savoy that would wear a crown. Valerio declares that d’Azeglio told his brother Lorenzo V__ on Monday that Victor Emmanuel was not the son of Charles Albert - that in a fire at Florence soon after the birth of the true prince the nurse and the child both perished, that the mother was saved with the greatest difficulty etc. At that moment Maria Teresa, (the wife of the Victor who had abdicated in favour of Carlo Felice,) was trying to throw Charles Albert out of the succession, and consequently it was all-important to the prince’s prospect that he should be supposed to have an heir. The death of the little prince was therefore kept a profound secret, and a peasant’s child substituted. It seems impossible that such gossip should be reported by d’Azeglio, especially as the resemblance of Prince Amadeo to his grandfather Charles Albert is so striking as to be noticed by every stranger. Mr Meille made us yesterday a long and most agreeable visit. Nothing can be more apostle-like than this good and gifted man - The account he gave of poor Mme Kossuth was very distressing. Suffering the severest tortures from an incurable disease which must soon terminate her life she struggles against it with a proud, defiant self-will, admitting to no one except to her family and her physician that she has any organic malady, and speaking of herself as only nervous etc. Mr Meille, who has had access to her several times in order to provide her with a nurse says that she meets the slightest attempt to offer a religious consolation with the most freezing hauteur, and in absolute silence. This evening the Count and Countess V. di Castiglione with their brother, Mr Porter of New York dined with us, also Miss Arbesser. The little countess interested me more than she has done before and there and a really strong affection seems to subsist between herself and her husband. Not so much can be said of the relation between the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. “My husband told me before we were married” she says, “that his mother was very strange and that I should have much trouble to get on with her, but I could not believe it possible that I should not be able to love the mother of the man whom I loved so much, but so it is. She has made me shed more tears than I have ever shed in my life before. Still, I am very very happy, and shall be so long as my husband and I are so devoted to each other.” Poor child! I am afraid there are sad days before her. Not one of her husband’s relations care a pin for him or her, only some of them seem instigated by the father of evil to alienate him from her if possible. They urge him to the clubs, and to the cafés and they urge her to take her walks alone. They also are piqued at her still going to the Protestant Church, and his mother has forbidden him to go with her on pain of her heaviest malediction. All this is so much a matter of course that it is worth recording only from one circumstance connected with it. An aunt of the Count, a Visconti of Milan, a lady no longer young, came a few days ago to pay a visit to her new niece. She was more friendly than any of his other relations, and before she left gave the Countess some curious advice. “My dear” said she “you are a Protestant. Your husband’s relations will urge you to change your religion. Do not do it by any means. Depend upon it you will in the end be more respected both by your husband and by them if you hold fast to the faith in which you were brought up. In fact, to speak plainly, your religion is the truest Christianity, and if I were not so old I would turn Protestant myself, and I would have no more priests between me and my God.’ This little incident has encouraged me more for the future of Italy than all the political talk I have heard for a long time.

I have let several days pass without writing a word though there has been quite as much material as usual. The Hardmans spent Saturday evening with us, and it is a real pleasure to have a little home-like rational society - Mr Hardman is very keensighted, as a correspondent of the Times should be, and I dare say he may be as unscrupulous as the Editor himself though he talks admirably and listens as well. They were both glad to get sight of Marguerite Trotti who was also passing the evening with us. I have had to miss almost all gentleman visits for some days - not being able to go beyond a dressing gown in the way of toilette, and it seems to me we have never had so many in the same space of time. The ladies I have seen and how tired when the day was done. In the evening I have found rich entertainment in Miss Cornwallis - husband is reading her letters etc.

C. went to the Senate Wednesday morn- with Mrs Hardman in order to get a sight of Manzoni whom we cannot see at the Arconatis on account of Mme’s illness. Mme Collegno is also confined to her room by a bad foot. Mr Marsh also was out all the morning and by way of contrast to the swarm of visitors I had the day before I was left to myself for two hours. The Abbe spent the evening with us. Yesterday the Countess Gigliucci came to announce her arrival from the country with her lovely girls. Such a curious account as she gave of the family of a priest-ridden cousin of her husband. The father is evidently little less than a fool, and such is the influence of a certain priest (the man Mme G says who took all the brains out of him in his boyhood) over him that he will not allow any one of his six boys to be left a moment alone with their own mother - The mother it seems, though a decided Roman C. & an Italian to boot, has some liberal notions wishes her boys to learn some accomplishments, & the priests dread her influence. Mrs G. quoted from

Sour Cavajer
   "D’i vachè da L’assemblea
   Mac jer seira desuicià,
   Elo chiel ch’am dis cerea
   Con coul aria d’mustafà?
   Chiel? ma chiel? ma propi chiel?
   O poteussa d’un bindel!
   Ch’a l’è reidi, ch’a l’è fier,
   ch’a l’è dur sour cavajer!

   Voui ch’i tene a la gualdrapa
   D’Fransesch Prim o d’Eurich Quart,
   Osservelo coum ai seapa
   L’illustrissim da ogui part; 
   Mach a veddlo un lo cred già
   Cusin prim del re da spà;
   ch’a l’è reidi, ch’a l’è fier
   ch’a l’è dur sour cavajer!
   &c. &c. &c. &c.

"Ch’a l’è reidi, ch’a l’è fier,
Ch’a l’è dur sour cavajer" 

Cibrario afterwards wrote a history of Piedmont, and of course was obliged to speak of its poets. He named Brofferio among them, and quoted these two lines as being perhaps the most famous written by that poet, - those upon which his reputation must chiefly rest! Brofferio reviewed Cibrario’s History in his Messaggiero - and - “oh, Cibrario”, said he “io sapeva che voi avenate dell’ingegno, ma non sapeva che ne avevate tanto.” Brofferio’s epigram on the abbé himself is excellent. When the latter was in Egypt he wrote a short article for the Gazzetta Ufficiale by way of explaining what ancient writers meant by saying that the pyramids were built from the top downwards. The abbé at this time was also a very leading member of the Turinese Agricultural Society. Brofferio published these lines in his Messaggiere “Il professor Baruffi in agronomia tanto puote Che anche sulle piramidi pianta carote!”

The Schweizers (Minister from Baden) paid us one of their long visits yesterday. They found Mme Polixène Rocci with me, and had met her before it seems, though they asked to be presented again. M. Schweizer says Prince Umberto told him the other day that the govt would go to Florence in May, and that the annexation would begin about that time. This word suggested to him, as it did to us, the idea of more annexation to France, but the prince explained that he meant something quite contrary - namely the annexation of the Papal territory. The spirit shown this week in the Senate doesn’t look much like annexing papal territory but we shall see what we shall see, In my present state of mind the tenacity with which superstition retains its grasp on the clearest intellect is the most depressing fact that I see about me. - By the way, a curious instance of the impress of Spanish domination still left at Milan occurred the other day. Margherita Trotti, who was bringing Carrie home from the palace, gave the coachman an order to go to the Senate for Don Alessandro at five o’clock - and Don Alessandro was the great Manzoni. Such things as this give one the oddest and most bewildered feeling imaginable, and one hardly knows in what age or country one is living - General Cerotti passed the evening with us, also the Hardmans; Mrs H. says that the Berliners, accustomed all their lives to the dull and dreary monotony of the plain around them, frankly confess that they don’t like lakes, mountains etc, and the reason they give is droll enough - ‘that kind of scenery is so theatrical’!! From infancy they have been accustomed to the finest stage-scenery and unhappy mother nature when she presents herself in her grandest forms suggests to these unfortunate children of the grand monde only the theatre in which they have spent so large a portion of their lives. This is certainly reversing the ordinary chain of association. To my surprise I found Mr Hardman on the extreme left of Italian politics and ready for fight at all hazards -

Miss Arbesser reported to me today such a curt question from the Duchess as to when I intended to come and see her that I dare not wait longer for fear my husband will be awfully frowned upon when he goes to her to pay the usual New Years’ compliment. My advice to all ambitious Republicans who desire to excite the interest of crowned heads, to show is, to show as little disposition to seek them as possible. This seeming indifference rather piques them. Certainly I have not been designing in my course towards H.R.H. but I have succeeded in making her want to see me which I could not have done except by staying away. She also sends to consult Mr Marsh about an Italian professor for the Princess, and compliments him on the notice of his book in the Revue des Deux Mondes. Miss A__ presses me hard about giving a musical soiree to show off Perelli, but I really feel unequal to such an undertaking.

Carrie, who returned Margaret’s Sunday visit on Monday, in part to thank her for a pretty birthday gift, found the Countess still on her sofa and did not get a much better report from Mme Arconati. I am sorry to lose their society for so long a time when there are so few weeks left in which I can enjoy it. Mr Jocelyn of the English Legation talked mountain and barometres and levels &c.&c. for an hour with Mr Marsh yesterday morning, I dropping in my woman’s word now and then, but mostly occupied with studying the intense English character of his features and expression and manners. I could not help calling to mind the often repeated argument in favour of the perpetuation of the aristocracy, namely, to have a standard of the highest good-breeding. This young gentleman belongs to the uppermost and oldest aristocracy, and though he is manly and refined, yet he is fidgetty, throws himself into awkward postures, laughs unmeaningly at the end of almost every sentence, and in short I should be very sorry to have any American friend of mine take him for a model. The distinguished pianist Perelli, a native of Palermo came to us this evening - a very prepossessing man, Miss Arbesser came later and we talked Catholicism most of the evening. It was very curious to listen to the admissions that she made. ‘We are taught to believe blindly the dogmata of our Church, and we try to think we believe them when our minds are turned towards those subjects, but the increasing light of the age is constantly forcing itself upon us, and we are full of moral and intellectual contradictions.’ I said to her - but how is it possible that in this age the head of your church and his advisers, not only cling desperately to all that is passed, but continue to canonize new saints and certify new miracles. ‘But’ she answered in her emphatic way ‘every body laughs at this, every body laughs at it. We catholics all laugh at it,’ - and I could not help adding mentally with a sigh - and are catholics still. - Miss Cobbe is most powerful and true in what she says of the women in Roman Catholic countries.

We were delighted yesterday to get Mr Bache’s card, though Mr Marsh returned quite sad from his visit to him. His speech is affected, also his memory of words, but no loss of intellectual power otherwise was perceptible on this interview. Madame Mésones paid me a visit, while Mr Marsh was absent, in spite of the flooding rain. Her toilette was the richest possible, but it did not make her a lady, though she seems amiable, in character and very fond of her children, which is saying a good deal. Carrie spent the morning at the Gigliuccis where they had most delightful music. Today the Tottenhams took her to the Vaudois fair - such miserable pretentions as these Turinese fairs are! She took fifty-five francs to spend and bestow, and brought home a little paste-board writing case containing paper and envelopes that are curiosities. She gave about three dollars for the treasure which I recommended her to give over at once to the little daughter of our footman. Madame Solvyns brought to me today the new Baroness Rosenkranz. I pitied her before I saw her, but I think now it must be a fair match. Mrs Hardman came while they were still with me, and stayed for an hour after they left. She told me a good deal of Miss Cobbe and in fact had many interesting things to say. She abused the Saturday Review as heartily as an American could, though having different subjects of complaint. Mr Hardman agrees fully with Sandwith in his estimation of Sir Henry Bulwer Mr Mrs H__‘s discription of Miss Cobbe (to go back a little) was droll enough. After the highest praise of her intellectually and morally she added - “she is a fat, jolly soul of about five and thirty, but I don’t believe there’s a man in England that would marry her.” ’Because she’s so plain?’ I said. “Oh no, her face is rather attractive than otherwise, but Englishmen can’t hear intellectual women - for wives, I mean.” Young Bache spent the evening with us, and his conversation made me as sad as the sight and intercourse with Mr Bache has made my husband. The picture of the mean jealousies and rivalries among our Army officers, and even between different regiments was fearful. I know it must be so before, for so have men been under the same circumstances since the world began, but this young man made it too real -

On Saturday last I went by appointment to pay my respects to the Duchess of Genoa. She allowed me to present myself simply en toilette de visite, and neither of her ladies were present at the interview. She received me with the most graceful ease of manner, placed me on the sofa by her, and our talk lasted about twenty minutes or a little more. She spoke first of my health, then of the American civil war, its prospects, and its effects upon the prosperity of the old world. She then expressed a hope that we should not be reunited with the “lâche” of slavery still left upon us - that since even Russia had liberated her serfs, the land emphatically called that of freedom, could not be behind the least advanced despotism. She then passed on to speak of some new German publications naming such as she thought would interest us; then expressed the great pleasure she had in reading many English novels, and her distaste for those of France which she said, all Germans found exaggerated and repulsive. Miss Arbesser was her next topic, and she gave me many thanks for the kindness we had shown her, said it was a great object to her, the Duchess, to have the governess of her petite welcomed cordially in a family like ours etc. etc. Speaking of the attachment of the princess to Miss Arbesser and vice versa, she said she considered it as a great happiness and added - on ne commande pas l’affection. She gave me her hand in the most friendly way both when I entered and when I left. I could not help saying to myself with a certain pride of sex, both during my conversation with her and afterwards: how much better fitted is this woman to fill a throne than most of the men who are now sitting in those high places. A mind so cultivated and enlightened and a head so strong and clear, is not often to be met with in any rank,- and yet this highly gifted woman - this daughter of a King, this widow of a King’s son, allows herself to be tyrannized over and bullied by an uneducated and ill-bred Italian Marquis. I had scarcely taken off my bonnet on my return when Rustem Bey came in. He gave me to understand, as the Duchess had done before, that I had too much colour to bear out my statements about ill-health, and that they were generally considered as shams. One hour after at the dinner-table Mr Marsh said to me - What makes you look so pale and ill? Then the little excitement was over, the flush was passed and only the fatigue left. On Sunday the Countess Collegno was able to come up stairs to me and how glad I was to see her dear saintly face and listen to her interesting talk once more. Mrs Hardman sat with me again for an hour on Monday, told me of her evening at the Robilants etc. Miss Arbesser passed the evening with us, and among other amusing things told us of Dr Weber’s approaching marriage. This German doctor is apparently a very characteristic national specimen - learned, arrogant and unprincipled. Miss Arbesser lent him a book not long since and when he returned it to her he said: “Ach, Gott, dieses Buch ist gar zu nett! Der Verfasser glaubt an einem Höchliches Wesen! Liebes Kind es gibt kein höchlishes Wesen.” And yet this very man is now about to marry a Piedmontese lady over fifty years old, a dévote of the deepest die who spends most of her time in prayers, fasting etc. He laughs when he speaks of her, lifts up his hands, rolls up his eyes, and says there’s nothing left for him now but church-going and the like. The Marquis della Rovere, who is a cousin of the bride expresses the most unbounded astonishment at the match as far as both parties are concerned. But she has two hundred thousand francs and the Dr. is poor - he has cured her of a lameness and she is grateful - Among other stories of him was one about an invitation to dinner which proves him to be deplorably given to lying, to use a plain English word. This fault Miss A__ naïvely excuses by saying that all Prussians do it. ‘Why even Charles de Bunsen exaggerates so horribly that his uncle Waddington told me the other day that he could not bear to pass an evening with him, so much was he shocked by his reckless recklessness. Mme de Bunsen sometimes ventures on a timid remonstrance - “Mais - mais Charles - mais non - mais tu exagère!” “Taisez- vous!” cries the indignant husband, and keeps on in the Munchausen vein unabashed. One little circumstance she mentioned as having been told her by the Duchess with regard to the first gloomy months of her widowhood spent in the castle Aglié. She was almost in complete solitude, the ladies in attendance not being with her in the evening. The great dismal drawing-room in which she sat alone was hung with gobelin tapestry that waved to and fro in the gusty night wind and even the little dog which alone kept her company, would often bark in sudden terror at the unearthly sights and sounds. “I often went to bed at eight oclock,’ she says ‘to see if I should feel less desolate beneath the curtains’ And then her children, she says, ‘I had no comfort in them - they were afraid of me, they cried when I tried to take them in my arms, and stretched out their hands passionately toward their nurses,’ - and etiquette would not allow her to be with them often enough to win their love. What wonder that she married even Rapallo! - Yesterday my visitors were numerous enough to make quite a levee. Mme de Hochschild was among them, looking very pretty and as usual, quite engrossed in society. Carrie spent the evening at the palace and the Princess Marguerite took tea with her. - The fare on the occasion would seem to us rather surprising - baked potatoes and salt! C. says she was reminded of Miss Blackwell’s princess who swung on the gate and ate hot apple-pie and pudding! The lovely Marguerite would hardly swing on a gate I suppose, but why should we think the hot applepie a myth since baked potatoes are realities? C. brought home a new loan of books from the Princess, and a photograph sent her by Miss Yonge that I might have a sight of it. The princess said the baked potatoes reminded her of her visit last summer to Germany - where they ate five times a day -