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				<title type='main'>Volume 13</title>
			</titleStmt>
			<publicationStmt>
				<publisher>tranScriptorium</publisher>
			</publicationStmt>
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				<bibl><publisher>TRP document creator: chris.burns@uvm.edu</publisher></bibl>
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		<body>
			<pb n='1'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>From</l>
					<l>January 1st 1864</l>
					<l>to</l>
					<l>March 1st 1864</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='2'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>January 1<hi rend='superscript:true;'>st</hi> 1864</l>
					<l>Why has society chosen to make the</l>
					<l>opening of the new year such a weariness and a burthen</l>
					<l>Carrie managed to get her drawing lesson this morning while</l>
					<l>Mr Marsh and I spent the time in making out lists of cards</l>
					<l>to be left. She too, hurried off to pay visits as soon as the</l>
					<l>Carriage was ready. While some other visitors were with me</l>
					<l>de Bunsen came in, stayed them out, and then we had a</l>
					<l>long hour&apos;s talk about what he has just seen in France,</l>
					<l>Germany and the Danubian provinces. France, he says,</l>
					<l>is stirred to her inmost centre with a firm purpose of</l>
					<l>obtaining more individual rights, more personal liberty, &amp;</l>
					<l>he believes the Emperor will be wise in time, and grant</l>
					<l>with a good grace what is demanded. Therefore in France</l>
					<l>he looks for no internal disturbance that shall amount to</l>
					<l>violence. Of the Danish question I am sorry to see that he</l>
					<l>takes merely a German&apos;s view, but he thinks it may lead</l>
					<l>to a general war, though he looks to Hungary and the</l>
					<l>Danubian provinces as the points where the flame is</l>
					<l>most sure to burst out. He declares that the fact that</l>
					<l>all the sovereigns in Europe are surrounded by military</l>
					<l>influence, and advised almost exclusively by military</l>
					<l>men explains why Europe is always in a state of</l>
					<l>warfare, or on the eve of becoming so. Beside political</l>
					<l>matters we spoke of the great religious movements of</l>
					<l>the day with much hopefulness. Indeed, if I can</l>
					<l>judge from conversation with the most enlightened</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='3'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>men and women, whether strangers or Turinese, that</l>
					<l>I see here, nothing can be more unfounded than the</l>
					<l>accusation, so frequently brought against our age, of indifference</l>
					<l>as to the great question of a future life. Mr de Bunsen</l>
					<l>gives even the Italian statesmen and men of letters credit</l>
					<l>for something far more like faith in Christianity as they</l>
					<l>understand it, than most persons have done. Of Cavour</l>
					<l>he says he knows this to be a fact: that in 1854 when</l>
					<l>he was about to press the passage of a law for the</l>
					<l>suppression of a considerable number of convents he</l>
					<l>sent for Padre Giaccamo, explained to him clearly</l>
					<l>what he was about to do, and his reasons for so doing,</l>
					<l>and ended by saying: You see my object is not to injure</l>
					<l>the Catholic Church, but to purify it, to remove only</l>
					<l>what is unnecessary and defacing, and consequently a</l>
					<l>weakness. Now, can you after this conscienciously</l>
					<l>give me absolution at my last hour. Father Giaccomo&apos;s</l>
					<l>reply was &apos;that he knew him to be a faithful son of the</l>
					<l>church, that though he might misjudge as to her interests</l>
					<l>he would never intentionally do her wrong, that he</l>
					<l>should therefore unhesitatingly give him absolution</l>
					<l>whenever he should be in circumstances to require it.&apos;</l>
					<l>Mr de Bunsen added, that an acquaintance of his own,</l>
					<l>an <hi rend='underlined:true;'>attaché</hi> of the French Legation hearing, the night</l>
					<l>before Cavour&apos;s death, that the last rites of the church</l>
					<l>were about to be administered to him, went into the</l>
					<l>sacristy of the chapel, took a torch from the hand of a</l>
					<l>servant, joined in the procession, and with it entered</l>
					<l>into the room of the dying man. Cavour, he says, was</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='4'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>sitting pillowed up nearly erect in his bed, the collar</l>
					<l>of his night-gown open, and the same friendly smile</l>
					<l>on his face that he wore in the days of health and</l>
					<l>activity. As the priest approached he covered his face</l>
					<l>with his hand as if to concentrate every mental</l>
					<l>faculty, then responded to the questions of his confessor</l>
					<l>distinctly and coherently - received the sacrament with</l>
					<l>the greatest apparent devotion, and when all was</l>
					<l>over leaned back on his pillow with the same</l>
					<l>tranquil, benevolent smile he had laid aside for a</l>
					<l>moment. This was at seven in the evening, and</l>
					<l>at seven in the morning he passed away. This</l>
					<l>story Mr de Bunsen declares he had from the lips of</l>
					<l>the attaché himself, and he fully believes it. As</l>
					<l>to the facts with regard to Cavour I suppose there can</l>
					<l>be no reason to question them as they are the same as</l>
					<l>stated by the Countess Alfieri, but I confess myself a</l>
					<l>little sceptical as to the part the attaché professes to</l>
					<l>have played. However one may almost say here that</l>
					<l>nothing is impossible / Mrs Tottenham made rather</l>
					<l>a significant remark here today. Speaking of a young</l>
					<l>English girl supposed to be about to marry a Piedmontese</l>
					<l>officer, she said: &apos;I wonder any English girl should</l>
					<l>be willing to marry an Italian officer now, it would</l>
					<l>be so unpleasant in case Italy should make war</l>
					<l>upon Austria to have her husband&apos;s country on one</l>
					<l>side and her own on the other.&apos;</l>
					<l>Saturday Jan. 2<hi rend='superscript:true;'>nd</hi>.</l>
					<l>Mr Marsh came out about four</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='5'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>o&apos;clock from his Library into the drawing-room, and I</l>
					<l>said: &apos;I would not have believed that so much</l>
					<l>as a dog would have come out visiting in this dismal</l>
					<l>snow-storm! &apos;And did a dog really come?&apos; he said</l>
					<l>with such a serious air as was beyond all comedy.</l>
					<l>&apos;No dogs,&apos; I said &apos;but two or three very nice countesses, - </l>
					<l>the Bernes, the Della Rocca, and the third whose</l>
					<l>name had escaped the servants.&apos; We had been sitting for</l>
					<l>half an hour trying to make up our minds whether it</l>
					<l>wouldn&apos;t be best after all to go back to the old system</l>
					<l>of receiving once a week rather than to be so constantly</l>
					<l>interrupted, when the door-bell rang again. Mr Marsh</l>
					<l>started. I said - &apos;don&apos;t go - the lamps are already lighted,</l>
					<l>it is just dinner-time, no visitor would come now.&apos;</l>
					<l>&apos;It&apos;s another of your countesses, I dare say,&apos; he said as</l>
					<l>he slipped quietly through the dining-room door, and</l>
					<l>at the same moment the Marchesa Mari was</l>
					<l>ushered in from the other side. She is one of my <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>es</hi>-</l>
					<l>special favorites, but I don&apos;t know how it is, all these</l>
					<l>Piedmontese ladies bewitch me with their indescribable</l>
					<l>grace and delicacy.</l>
					<l>Sunday Jan. 3<hi rend='superscript:true;'>rd</hi></l>
					<l>Neither Mr Marsh or I went out</l>
					<l>this morning, Carrie going to church with Giacchino</l>
					<l>for <hi rend='underlined:true;'>decorum</hi>. I felt almost too unwell to listen to</l>
					<l>reading at first, but one of Vincent&apos;s admirable</l>
					<l>Méditations soon made me forget my bodily aches.</l>
					<l>What a glorious thing it is to have left behind such</l>
					<l>thoughts - thoughts that can lift other poor mortals</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='6'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>on their divine wings to such heavenly heights. Mr</l>
					<l>Clay interrupted our reading by coming in to say to Mr</l>
					<l>Marsh that he wished to return to America for</l>
					<l>a time at least as soon as he could get leave from</l>
					<l>the Department. Poor fellow! His family news is</l>
					<l>sad enough. A brother reported killed fighting against</l>
					<l>his country, and a sister losing her only son by illness.</l>
					<l>His mother&apos;s family nearly all ruined in Kentucky, and</l>
					<l>part of them fled to Texas. In the afternoon Mr Marsh</l>
					<l>and Carrie went to the Vaudois church. I stayed at</l>
					<l>home feeling so ill as earnestly to hope that the Baroness</l>
					<l>Hochschild would not make her proposed visit, which</l>
					<l>fortunately for me she did not.</l>
					<l>Monday Jan. 4<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>No visits except from the Tottenhams</l>
					<l>and M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Giletta. - note from the Countess Maggiolini.</l>
					<l>In the evening Mr Marsh read some articles from the</l>
					<l>Revue Crétienne. Among others a short biographical</l>
					<l>sketch of the great Italian reformer Pallissario, in-</l>
					<l>-cluding those grand words of his - &apos;this is no time for</l>
					<l>a christian to die in his bed.&apos; He also read a</l>
					<l>short notice of Saisset, the great Frenchman who</l>
					<l>died last week - a sad loss for philosophy and</l>
					<l>religion. We half expected to hear tonight that a</l>
					<l>collision had actually taken place between Denmark and</l>
					<l>Germany, but no such news came, and we are now</l>
					<l>inclined to adhere to our first opinion that mag-</l>
					<l>-nanimous England will compel Denmark, by the</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='7'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Note from a poor sewing girl of Piobesi, as a</l>
					<l>specimen of the nice tact and sense of propriety</l>
					<l>which mark every class of Italians.</l>
					<l>Piobesi Torinese il 1 geuio [gennaio] 1864</l>
					<l>Stimatissimi Signori</l>
					<l>Oggi comincia il 1864 che ve lo auguro</l>
					<l>felice, e pieno di buone venture.</l>
					<l>La mia madre ed io tutta la nostra</l>
					<l>famiglia sono tutti in perfetta salute</l>
					<l>e vi inaudiamo tutti i piu sinceri augu-</l>
					<l>ri gli fo i dovuti rispetti e mi congratulo</l>
					<l>con le Signorie vostre, e vi auguro feliceme-</l>
					<l>nte un buon capo d&apos;anno e salutate i</l>
					<l>Siguori vostri il Ministro la Signora</l>
					<l>e Signorina, Gaetano tutti indistintamen-</l>
					<l>te</l>
					<l>Accettate i miei saluti favoritenu delle</l>
					<l>vostre<hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>no</hi> notizie desidero di vedervi presto</l>
					<l>e mi protesto vostra umile serva devota</l>
					<l>Vardiero Maria Benedetta</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='8'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>most disinterested advice of course, to submit to</l>
					<l>every outrage on the part of Germany, and that she will</l>
					<l>say to Italy in case she dares assert her rights to Venice:</l>
					<l>&apos;we can&apos;t allow you to make war upon Austria.&apos;</l>
					<l>The conduct of England towards Austria can be explained</l>
					<l>only by the determination of the English aristocracy to</l>
					<l>sustain Austrian aristocracy, even if it is necessary</l>
					<l>to sacrifice every other principle she has ever professed.</l>
					<l>Tuesday 5<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>C. went out to leave cards as soon</l>
					<l>as the carriage was ready - returned quite chilled, the</l>
					<l>thermometer being little above 20 Fehrenheit. The</l>
					<l>Gajanis brought in their soldier-brother to see us in</l>
					<l>the evening - Mr Marsh, Mr Artoni &amp; C. went</l>
					<l>to the Teatro Reggio soon after eight - <hi rend='underlined:true;'>heard</hi></l>
					<l>Goudot&apos;s [Gounod&apos;s] Faust, and <hi rend='underlined:true;'>saw</hi> the much-to-be-pitied</l>
					<l>Doria.</l>
					<l>Wednesday, 6<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> Jan.</l>
					<l>This morning the papers are warlike</l>
					<l>again. England is said to have spoken out to Germany</l>
					<l>and to have ordered a part of her fleet to the</l>
					<l>Baltic - we are incredulous still. I was</l>
					<l>called from the dancing-room to see Miss Avezzana</l>
					<l>who brought a lady whose name had evidently been</l>
					<l>blundered by the servant. I thought it might be</l>
					<l>M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Mancini and used all my diplomacy to find</l>
					<l>out in the course of the conversation, but could not.</l>
					<l>She was a great liberalist, talked of <hi rend='underlined:true;'>notre chère</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>Duchesse de Bevilocqua</hi>, but still I could not</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='9'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>quite make out, or rather admit to myself, that</l>
					<l>this was the great Sicilian poet. When she</l>
					<l>left I asked M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Rothan who had come in during</l>
					<l>the visit, if she thought this could possibly</l>
					<l>be M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Mancini. She thought a moment,</l>
					<l>and then said with a little hesitation: &apos;cela se peut,</l>
					<l>cela se peut; en vérité elle a bien parlé,&quot; but</l>
					<l>on cross-questioning Gaetano afterwards I found</l>
					<l>the lady was indeed a Sicilian, but not Madame</l>
					<l>Mancini - only M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Del Careti, wife of the</l>
					<l>sufficiently conspicuous General.</l>
					<l>Thursday 7<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>I had sent my chair to the chapel</l>
					<l>where we go on Sunday intending to join Mr Meille&apos;s</l>
					<l>congregation there at three o&apos;clock, when Mme de</l>
					<l>Hochschild sent me word that she wished to pay</l>
					<l>me a visit at half past three. It was difficult</l>
					<l>not to chafe a little under this, as it was the</l>
					<l>first time I have tried to go out for two weeks, but there</l>
					<l>was no help for it. Poor old Captain Crowther came</l>
					<l>in first. I have not seen him before since the</l>
					<l>death of his daughter six weeks after her marriage.</l>
					<l>His wife, he tells me, has never left their son-in-law</l>
					<l>since, always following him from garrison to garrison.</l>
					<l>M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> de Hochschild was followed almost</l>
					<l>immediately by Madame Elliot, whom she came</l>
					<l>to present. To my simplicity it seems very absurd</l>
					<l>that Mrs Elliot, after the cards that have passed</l>
					<l>between us, the many enquiries and answers about</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='10'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>the sick child, the messages through Mrs Tottenham,</l>
					<l>&amp;c&amp;c - that after all these Mrs Elliot could not</l>
					<l>come to see me without having a lady to present</l>
					<l>her, but I ought not to forget that we Americans are</l>
					<l>but <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Hurons,</hi> and by no means competent to judge</l>
					<l>of the proprieties of truly civilized life - On the</l>
					<l>whole I like Mrs Elliot, for, when once presented, she</l>
					<l>behaved very much as any quiet American lady</l>
					<l>would have done. M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Arconati has just</l>
					<l>sent me a note asking me to manage a meeting</l>
					<l>for her with M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Rothan in my drawing-room.</l>
					<l>Here is another instance of etiquette which puzzles</l>
					<l>my semi-civilized head not a little. The Marquise</l>
					<l>Arconati, who stands as one of the foremost</l>
					<l>leaders of Italian society, a lady whose acquaintance</l>
					<l>any person in Europe might be proud to make, does</l>
					<l>not think it sufficient to send her card to M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi></l>
					<l>Rothan, or to signify through a friend that she would</l>
					<l>like to make her acquaintance; (or perhaps she thinks</l>
					<l>this too much of an advance on her part) nor does</l>
					<l>she propose to me to present M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> de Rothan</l>
					<l>to her through some friend who should take</l>
					<l>M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> R__ to pay her a visit, but she prefers to</l>
					<l>arrange a meeting in my salon. I have no doubt</l>
					<l>at all that this is quite in accordance with the nicest</l>
					<l>etiquette, but it puzzles me. Miss Arbesser spent the evening</l>
					<l>with us</l>
					<l>Friday 8<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>This morning, it being bitter cold for</l>
					<l>Turin still, I ventured out to take M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Gajani</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='11'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>to hear Ruscalla&apos;s Lecture on what constitutes nation-</l>
					<l>-ality. Mr Marsh presented us to the lecturer</l>
					<l>before he began. We heard much better than I</l>
					<l>expected, and really lost little except proper names,</l>
					<l>which he spoke hurriedly and of course with a</l>
					<l>pronunciation odd to us, and occasional words</l>
					<l>and phrases from the Sclavish languages, the</l>
					<l>various forms of which he ran through as they</l>
					<l>were found in other tongues. There were also certain</l>
					<l>slaps at the Jesuits which amused his audience</l>
					<l>generally, but the point of which we lost. He is</l>
					<l>an animated speaker, and we were much</l>
					<l>pleased on the whole. After the lecture was over</l>
					<l>I asked him to present his daughter to me which</l>
					<l>he did. She is an intellectual looking girl, and</l>
					<l>also writes herself for the Rèvista Contemporanea.</l>
					<l>Dr. Monnet came in this evening just as we were</l>
					<l>setting out for the first lecture of a series to be given</l>
					<l>at the Liceo, somewhat on the principle of English</l>
					<l>and American lectures. We were not particularly</l>
					<l>attracted by the subject announced for the first Lecture</l>
					<l>but decided to go for the sake of helping to make up an</l>
					<l>audience which we supposed would be scanty at best.</l>
					<l>The Dr. joined us, and on arriving at the Hall to our</l>
					<l>surprise we found it well filled with the very élite</l>
					<l>of the Turinese society. My first glance showed me</l>
					<l>half a dozen Marchese and Contesse whom I would</l>
					<l>have sworn were at the Teatro Regio at that</l>
					<l>moment. The ladies occupied the inner circles, the</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='12'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>gentlemen the more elevated ones behind. Every person</l>
					<l>in the room was well dressed, and the whole appearance</l>
					<l>of the assembly was rather that of a fashionable private</l>
					<l>concert than a popular lecture. The orator of the</l>
					<l>evening came forward, made a short, but rather graceful</l>
					<l>preface in a subdued, drawing-room-tone of voice, &amp;</l>
					<l>then began his reading. To a person accustomed to the</l>
					<l>stirring manner and matter of our Good American</l>
					<l>lecturers, such as Giles, Holland, Beecher, etc -</l>
					<l>the whole effect of this reading was really ridiculous.</l>
					<l>The subject, if it can be said to have a subject, [illegible]</l>
					<l>was</l>
					<l>certain sketches of individuals composing the Monelli</l>
					<l>family (an imaginary family of course) and then a</l>
					<l>narrative of certain domestic events and scenes, ending</l>
					<l>after the manner of the feuilletons of the day, in the</l>
					<l>betrayal of a husband by his wife, and the promise</l>
					<l>of the further history of the wife in a future Lecture!!</l>
					<l>- and careful mammas had brought their young</l>
					<l>daughters of from twelve to eighteen to be edified by</l>
					<l>this Lecture! It was really too absurd. I must</l>
					<l>however do the writer the justice to say that his</l>
					<l>style was admirable, his descriptions very pictorial,</l>
					<l>and a delicate vein of irony pervaded the whole com-</l>
					<l>-position. As the beginning of a novel of this particular</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>genre</hi> it would have been most creditable, - as</l>
					<l>a Lecture it was below criticism. As I threw my-</l>
					<l>-self upon my bed after my return, and wrapped up</l>
					<l>my aching side with flannels I could not help</l>
					<l>feeling very silly at the sacrifice I had made to so little</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='13'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>purpose. I was certainly not needed to swell the</l>
					<l>audience, and for the rest I had <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>certainly</hi></l>
					<l>really</l>
					<l>paid very</l>
					<l>dear Saturday Jan. 9<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi>.</l>
					<l>Miss Todros came rather early to see</l>
					<l>Carrie, and was soon followed by her aunt the Countess - a</l>
					<l>Venitian. The Countess Castellani [illegible]</l>
					<l>Santoni</l>
					<l>came in during</l>
					<l>this visit and remained till after Madame Todros left.</l>
					<l>As soon as she was gone the Castellani asked her name.</l>
					<l>I gave it, looking at the same time significantly towards the</l>
					<l>niece, hoping I should be understood. &quot;Todros,&quot; repeated</l>
					<l>the lady with a semi-grimace: <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>alors</hi> &quot;<hi rend='underlined:true;'>c&apos;est une Juive</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>alors</hi>?.&quot; I looked again at the niece who was luckily</l>
					<l>chatting away with Carrie, and said in a very low tone</l>
					<l>&quot;Voilà la nièce!&quot; M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Castellani put on the most comic</l>
					<l>expression between a little mortification and a good deal of</l>
					<l>mischief - then went on to compliment the rare intelligence</l>
					<l>the Countess Todros had shown in her conversation. This</l>
					<l>was certainly no more than justice, for the countess <hi rend='underlined:true;'>had</hi></l>
					<l>talked well, but the compliments were probably intended</l>
					<l>for the benefit of the niece. I like this pretty Castellani</l>
					<l>though she is, I fancy, not a little malicious, in the</l>
					<l>French sense. It is settled that I am to take her to Mr</l>
					<l>Matteucci&apos;s Lecture. By the way, the Todros says</l>
					<l>that the ladies who went to the Lecture Friday night</l>
					<l>and took their daughters came home furious at the character</l>
					<l>of the Lecture. I am rather glad to hear this for I was</l>
					<l>really afraid that most of the audience would think it all</l>
					<l>right. The Baroness Todros came to take away her daughter</l>
					<l>while M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Castellani was still with me - so that</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='14'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>she had an opportunity of seeing another of my Hebrew</l>
					<l>acquaintances. It amuses me greatly when these</l>
					<l>things happen. During the course of the day Mr Marsh</l>
					<l>had a message from the foreign office from which it</l>
					<l>appears they are in great distress about the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Re d&apos;Italia</hi></l>
					<l>reported <hi rend='underlined:true;'>coulé au fond</hi> on her trial trip. He went</l>
					<l>directly over, took them some charts etc. Carrie went</l>
					<l>off with M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> de Hochschild at half past nine to</l>
					<l>a ball at the Menabrea&apos;s, and I went quietly to bed.</l>
					<l>Sunday 10<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi>.</l>
					<l>Carrie came home at half past two, but was</l>
					<l>still ready and bright for a nine o&apos;clock breakfast. <hi rend='underlined:true;'>I</hi></l>
					<l>was not expected at the ball of course, and somebody graciously</l>
					<l>apologized for my husband with: &quot;mais que voulez vous?</l>
					<l>c&apos;est toujours ainsi avec les hommes serentipiques.&quot;</l>
					<l>Rustem Bey said his mother&apos;s physicians prescribed</l>
					<l>the Teatro Regio as the best medicine for her <hi rend='underlined:true;'>morale</hi>,</l>
					<l>- that she had been carried there from her bed two or</l>
					<l>three times, but that the last time she had taken so</l>
					<l>bad a cold that so far they had not been able to get</l>
					<l>her up again! C. and I went to church and I was glad</l>
					<l>to find that old father Brown&apos;s christian charity was</l>
					<l>strong enough to make him seem to forget my sharp</l>
					<l>talk with him the other day. After such a hearty</l>
					<l>hand-shaking all must be right I am sure, besides,</l>
					<l>Miss Nora presented her brother to me just as I</l>
					<l>was stepping into the carriage, and begged permission</l>
					<l>to bring him to see me. Mr Tottenham gave us a</l>
					<l>good sermon, but I had a better one still from</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='15'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Inquiring of Carrie about her partners in the</l>
					<l>dance, I was happy to find that poor Laura Savio,</l>
					<l>mentioned by Mrs Browning, has still one</l>
					<l>surviving son, Carrie was much pleased with</l>
					<l>him, and says he spoke of his brothers.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='16'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Samuel Vincent after we came back. The Kossuths</l>
					<l>made their usual Sunday visit, and were full of</l>
					<l>lively talk. They gave a droll account of the behaviour</l>
					<l>of a mamma who had taken her daughters to the</l>
					<l>Lecture, and at whose house they paid a visit the</l>
					<l>same evening. They declare she actually cried with</l>
					<l>vexation - called poor Torelli <hi rend='underlined:true;'>un brigand</hi> &amp;c.</l>
					<l>The application of this epithet quite upset Mr Marsh&apos;s</l>
					<l>gravity. I have seldom heard him laugh so.</l>
					<l>We have a telegram that the Re d&apos;Italia is safe,</l>
					<l>at which we really rejoice.</l>
					<l>Monday Jan. 11<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi>.</l>
					<l>I tried to hurry off a little piece</l>
					<l>of work this morning, which has been waiting for me</l>
					<l>three weeks, before it was time to dress to receive the</l>
					<l>Marchesa Arconati, and had scarcely finished it when</l>
					<l>a note was handed me saying she wished to come an</l>
					<l>hour earlier than had been settled, in order to bring</l>
					<l>Mr Castillia, who would have to go to the Senate at</l>
					<l>two. To notify M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Rothan of the change and to</l>
					<l>get the drawing-room warm this bitter cold day took</l>
					<l>every moment till the hour arrived. Fortunately</l>
					<l>every thing went off smoothly. We were delighted to</l>
					<l>see Mr Castillia, and the two ladies seemed to take</l>
					<l>to each other at once. After a little while Mr Marsh</l>
					<l>took Mr Castillia to his cabinet, leaving us three ladies</l>
					<l>to ourselves for a good hour&apos;s chat. The Marchesa was</l>
					<l>quite enthusiastic about a manuscript she had just</l>
					<l>received from Mr Senior, containing many of his</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='17'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>late conversations with distinguished French Statesmen,</l>
					<l>both those connected with the court, and those in</l>
					<l>the opposition. I could not help expressing my</l>
					<l>surprise that Mr Senior felt himself justified in</l>
					<l>circulating his notes taken in this way, but the ladies</l>
					<l>me that this habit of his was perfectly well-known, and</l>
					<l>that therefore there was nothing unfair in it. I</l>
					<l>confess this judgment was rather consolatory to me,</l>
					<l>who have often had misgivings as to whether I was</l>
					<l>justified in writing down so much of what is said in</l>
					<l>the freedom of conversation, even though what <hi rend='underlined:true;'>I</hi> write</l>
					<l>is intended for no eye but mine. The possibility that</l>
					<l>by some accident my journal might fall into other</l>
					<l>hands than mine, has frequently made me hesitate</l>
					<l>to write down many things that I knew I should wish</l>
					<l>myself to remember hereafter, but this gentleman, it</l>
					<l>seems, is thought to be fully justified in his course,</l>
					<l>which is, not only to take careful notes, but to put these</l>
					<l>notes into the hands of his friends. Our conversation</l>
					<l>was interrupted by a visit from Madame Malaret, a</l>
					<l>French woman in almost every respect the exact opposite</l>
					<l>of M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Rothan - very plain, very free and easy but</l>
					<l>without the least dignity, with a volubility upon the</l>
					<l>most trifling subjects, which would be in the highest</l>
					<l>degree oppressive if it were not accompanied by a</l>
					<l>feeling of relief that there was no opportunity given for a</l>
					<l>reply. The announcement of another visitor gave those</l>
					<l>already with me a good excuse for taking their leave, and</l>
					<l>I was sure the Marchesa Arconati wished to get</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='18'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>One of my visitors today speaking of La Doria, <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>said</hi></l>
					<l>in reply to the remark of another that she was kind</l>
					<l>and amiable, said, &quot;Oui, c&apos;est une dame sans</l>
					<l>fiel et sans sel.&quot; -</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='19'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>away from the very first moment that the stormy</l>
					<l>French Baroness made her appearance. Later in</l>
					<l>the day the Baroness Visconti brought the Countess</l>
					<l>Maggiolini, a very lady-like English woman, married</l>
					<l>to an Italian codino - one of those nine-hundred-year-old</l>
					<l>pretenders whose sun is fast setting. I was so thoroughly</l>
					<l>tired out by dinner-time that I shrunk from the idea</l>
					<l>of going to the Lecture in the evening, but dinner and a</l>
					<l>cup of tea after refreshed me a little, and we hurried the abbé</l>
					<l>off just in time to get one of the last seats in the hall,</l>
					<l>There was a formidable array of man and monkey skeletons</l>
					<l>and Professor <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>des</hi> Filippi did his best to make us</l>
					<l>believe that we were all descended from monkeys, and</l>
					<l>that we ought to be satisfied with so respectable an</l>
					<l>ancestry. The Lecture was certainly more befitting the</l>
					<l>occasion than was Torelli&apos;s, but to me it was dull and</l>
					<l>unconvincing. He gave us no new facts, and failed to</l>
					<l>answer the most important of Quatrefage&apos;s objections to</l>
					<l>this theory. Mr Marsh was too far off to hear him with</l>
					<l>anything like distinctness, but in my judgment he lost</l>
					<l>little. I had a word with M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Arconati, both</l>
					<l>before and after the Lecture. Speaking of the two ladies</l>
					<l>she had met in the morning she said - &quot;Est-il possible</l>
					<l>- d&apos;imaginer deux personnes de type plus opposé - !&quot;</l>
					<l>Tuesday Jan. 12<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>We had a wonderfully quiet</l>
					<l>day today, owing no doubt in part to the extreme cold.</l>
					<l>The thermometer at the Observatory being it is said at</l>
					<l>zero Fahr. this morning. There must be terrible suffering</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='20'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>among the poor, for here even, with all our comforts,</l>
					<l>the whole household is complaining. The arrest of</l>
					<l>the <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>three</hi> 4 Italians at Paris confessing the intention to</l>
					<l>have murdered the Emperor excites profound regret among</l>
					<l>all the friends of Italy, or rather I should say it is</l>
					<l>not their <hi rend='underlined:true;'>arrest</hi>, but the fact of the conspiracy that</l>
					<l>distresses them. Mazzini must be the maddest of</l>
					<l>madmen, and I cannot see how England if he</l>
					<l>continues to go on in this way, can fail to treat him</l>
					<l>as a madman, and shut him up where he can</l>
					<l>no longer put in jeopardy the lines of others in this way.</l>
					<l>It is dreadful to see this noble nature so distorted</l>
					<l>and ruined. This evening we read Ewald&apos;s terribly</l>
					<l>severe criticism on Renan&apos;s Life of Christ. It will</l>
					<l>no doubt do much to injure the popularity of this</l>
					<l>book. Wednesday Jan 13<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Madame Pétrof spent an</l>
					<l>hour with me while the girls were dancing, and told</l>
					<l>me again the sad story of her sister&apos;s death from <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>the</hi> diphtheria</l>
					<l>on the fortieth day after her marriage. No other visitors except</l>
					<l>the Countess Giletta who came for her daughter</l>
					<l>Thursday Jan 14<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Mr Clay came in rather early</l>
					<l>this morning. He looks worn and anxious, but I hope he</l>
					<l>will not resign and leave us at Mr Seward&apos;s mercy once</l>
					<l>more for a successor. Still it is most natural that a</l>
					<l>Kentuckian should be unhappy away from his home</l>
					<l>at this time. This evening, notwithstanding the bitter cold</l>
					<l>- the thermometer almost at zero, - the Count and Countess</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='21'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Gigliucci came in to pass the evening with us. We</l>
					<l>enjoyed their visit not a little. The Countess is full</l>
					<l>of pleasant reminiscences of Charles and Mary Lamb, of</l>
					<l>Leigh Hunt etc. besides her own abundant stock of original</l>
					<l>remark. Mr Marsh says she is a &apos;real live woman&apos;,</l>
					<l>which means a great deal with him. We asked the</l>
					<l>Countess, when she was speaking of her long residence in Nice,</l>
					<l>if she knew the d&apos;Abbadys. She said she was one evening</l>
					<l>presented to Madame, and sat by her on the sofa nearly</l>
					<l>the whole evening, during which time the lady entertained</l>
					<l>her with an account of a most melancholy affliction that</l>
					<l>had lately befallen her - the death of a lap-dog! Madame</l>
					<l>G__. listened patiently and sympathetically as long as she</l>
					<l>could, but at last finding there was likely to be no change</l>
					<l>of topic she ventured to hint that for her own part she did</l>
					<l>not much like lap-dogs - Madame d&apos;A__. replied with</l>
					<l>some spirit - &quot;moi, je les adore.&quot; - &quot;Et moi, je les</l>
					<l>déteste&quot; was the rejoinder, which proved a settler,</l>
					<l>for the ladies said no more. Some years after the</l>
					<l>Countess Gigliucci was on her way from Lyons to</l>
					<l>Marseilles by rail. The day was very hot, and the</l>
					<l>compartment already contained six persons when a</l>
					<l>gentlemen and lady, the latter holding a small</l>
					<l>basket, entered the carriage. The previous occupants</l>
					<l>had expanded themselves and their shawls as well as</l>
					<l>they could to prevent this addition to their numbers, but</l>
					<l>it was no use - there were no other first class seats,</l>
					<l>and they were admitted of necessity. No sooner however</l>
					<l>were they seated then the Countess G__. exclaimed</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='22'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>&quot;<hi rend='underlined:true;'>Mon Dieu, je sens un chien! Est-ce-qu&apos;il y a un</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>chien ici</hi>?&quot; and she looked fiercely at the little basket</l>
					<l>The intruding lady looked deprecatingly, and then said</l>
					<l>coaxingly - &quot;M<hi rend='underlined:true;'>ais, madame, c&apos;est un tout petit, c&apos;est un rien!</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>&quot;Mais, Mon Dieu, cé-serait impossible d&apos;y rester</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>avec un chien dans une telle chaleur!</hi>&quot; and she</l>
					<l>called to the guard. The poor fellow, who had received</l>
					<l>his fee, and slunk away, was deaf as long as possible,</l>
					<l>but Madame Gigliucci&apos;s repeated demand &apos;Est-ce-qu&apos;il</l>
					<l>est permis de porter des chiens dans les premières classes&apos;</l>
					<l>had to be attended to at last, and the man was</l>
					<l>obliged to tell the lady that she must give up her</l>
					<l>dog, offering to take good care of it himself - &quot;Non,&quot; said the</l>
					<l>lady decidedly, &quot;<hi rend='underlined:true;'>s&apos;il faut faire sortir mon chien, moi,</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>je sors aussi</hi>!&quot; and she left the compartment in</l>
					<l>high indignation - &quot;Guess my astonishment,&quot; says</l>
					<l>Madame Gigliucci &quot;when the lady threw up her veil</l>
					<l>as she stepped out, and I recognized M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> d&apos;Abbady</l>
					<l>of Nice.! And, hadn&apos;t I unconsciously taken a most</l>
					<l>delightful revenge for that dreadful evening on the</l>
					<l>sofa!&quot; If I could write as fast as M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Gigluicci</l>
					<l>talks I should not content myself with recording only</l>
					<l>this one of the many nice little things she told this</l>
					<l>evening. Speaking of music we asked her opinion of</l>
					<l>Schoppin [Chopin] - &quot;He was the first musical genius of his</l>
					<l>age&quot; was her decision. &quot;There is only one thing</l>
					<l>worse than French immorality - that is French</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>morality</hi>.&quot; I am not sure whether Madame G__.</l>
					<l>originated or quoted, this aphorism.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='23'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Friday 15<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>We went, with Mrs Gajani, to hear</l>
					<l>Veggezzi-Ruscalla lecture at one; Though we lost a</l>
					<l>good deal I still found the Lecture most interesting &amp;</l>
					<l>I could not help telling Ruscalla at the end how</l>
					<l>much I was delighted with his appreciation of</l>
					<l>Kalawala. The Lecturer kindled with enthusiasm,</l>
					<l>and said he should have more to write on that exquisite</l>
					<l>poem before his Lectures were finished. We settled that</l>
					<l>his daughter, Miss Ida, should come and see me some</l>
					<l>Saturday. We tried to read one of her stories in the</l>
					<l>Rivista the other evening, but couldn&apos;t get through</l>
					<l>with it. The young lady is said to be highly gifted, and</l>
					<l>I have no doubt she is, but either her genius does not</l>
					<l>lie in the direction of romance, or she is very inexperienced</l>
					<l>as a writer. As I took M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Gajani home, I stopped</l>
					<l>to inquire after <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>the</hi> dear old Baron Plana, who is ill,</l>
					<l>and has been bled, the papers say, this morning. The</l>
					<l>Baroness did not send an unfavourable report of him,</l>
					<l>and I hope he may live in spite of these Turinese</l>
					<l>butchers: The idea of bleeding an old man upwards of</l>
					<l>eighty because he has taken cold! Mr Fogg - our</l>
					<l>minister <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>from Switzerland</hi> to Berne, dined with</l>
					<l>us. He seems a sensible man, and sound in his</l>
					<l>politics. I wish he might do some good in Rome</l>
					<l>where he is going, but it seems now as if that miserable</l>
					<l>Hooker would have everything his own way, and</l>
					<l>succeed in ousting Stillman at last. Perhaps, now</l>
					<l>that Hughes is dead, <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>and</hi> (an event which seems</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='24'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>to give great satisfaction) it is possible that Mr Seward</l>
					<l>may be induced to adopt a different policy in Italy, but</l>
					<l>I fear there is little chance of it. We were obliged to</l>
					<l>excuse ourselves to our guest at an early hour, on account</l>
					<l>of Matteucci&apos;s Lecture. We picked up the Countess Castellani</l>
					<l>and were at the Hall at least twenty minutes before the</l>
					<l>hour, and yet all the best seats for gentlemen were already</l>
					<l>taken. The Countess explained to us that her family connexions</l>
					<l>generally would be dreadfully shocked at her going to such a</l>
					<l>place. It seems that my note to her in the morning</l>
					<l>had been taken to her sister-in law by mistake, and in</l>
					<l>this way, the startling fact of what she was about to do</l>
					<l>had got out to the great dismay of the family. &quot;Ma</l>
					<l>Belle-soeur se ferait écorcher vive peu tôt que de se</l>
					<l>trouver a un tel cours!&quot; She told Mr Marsh in</l>
					<l>the livliest way how arrierée all her family were,</l>
					<l>and said she had to thank God for a twelve year</l>
					<l>residence in Lombardy or she should be no better than</l>
					<l>the rest. When she ventures to criticise their illiberality</l>
					<l>a little, and tells them that the world must and will</l>
					<l>go on in spite of the efforts of the Piedmontese nobility</l>
					<l>to hold it back, they cry out: <hi rend='underlined:true;'>&quot;Pour charité, Clotilde,</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>pour charité, ne dites pas ces choses - là devant</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>mes filles!&quot;</hi> Among themselves they say, <hi rend='underlined:true;'>&quot;Pauvre</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>Clotilde, comme elle a la tête chaude! Dieu! Qu&apos;</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>est ce qu&apos;ella va devenir?&quot;</hi> The beautiful, lively</l>
					<l>creature gave me such a funny account of her reception</l>
					<l>of a dozen persons, most of them gentlemen, in her</l>
					<l>bed-room last evening. She was suffering from</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='25'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>&quot;Je suis regardée dans ma famille comme une</l>
					<l>femme pernicieuse&quot;</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='26'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>rheumatic pains in her shoulders, ordered her bed to</l>
					<l>be warmed, and went to bed, forgetting to give orders to</l>
					<l>say she was not well. She sprang into bed without</l>
					<l>making any change in her hair, waiting for her maid</l>
					<l>to come with brushes and night-cap, but scarcely had her</l>
					<l>head touched the pillow when the servant announced</l>
					<l>two gentlemen. &quot;Of course&quot; said the Countess in telling</l>
					<l>the story, &quot;it was too late to decline their visit then,</l>
					<l>and as I had received these I was obliged to receive all</l>
					<l>others who came. &quot;<hi rend='underlined:true;'>Et enfin, voilà ma petite chambre</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>remplie de douze personnes, et mon mari, voyez vous,</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>n&apos;aime pas que je recoive dans ma chambre à</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>coucher</hi>!&quot; I record this as a specimen of Piedmontese</l>
					<l>habits, very puzzling to us. Perhaps I ought to put down</l>
					<l>as equally characteristic</l>
					<l>some</l>
					<l>of the gentlemen&apos;s remarks</l>
					<l>to her. When she explained to them that she was really</l>
					<l>indisposed, and had not intended to receive, they said</l>
					<l>&quot;<hi rend='underlined:true;'>Mais, Madame, vous voilà toute coiffie, et reposant</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>dans votre lit comme une jolie petite poupée - il</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>n&apos;y a de quoi doutes - vous l&apos;avez fait exprès!</hi>&quot;</l>
					<l>Saturday Jan 16.</l>
					<l>A light snow-storm, and few</l>
					<l>visitors today. Rustem Bey confirms Carrie&apos;s account of</l>
					<l>the Doctor&apos;s prescription for his mamma, who does</l>
					<l>not come round at all he says. I talked with him</l>
					<l>a good while about Turkish matters, and he declares the</l>
					<l>Empire to be rapidly strengthening itself under Fouad <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>Pascha&apos;s</hi></l>
					<l>Pacha&apos;s guidance, and making the best progress</l>
					<l>every way. He gave an interesting account of the</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='27'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>father of Fouad, Isec Moolah, who was executed</l>
					<l>under Sultan Mahmoud. The Countess Beltrami</l>
					<l>was my only lady-visitor. Just as we were about</l>
					<l>sending to the station to meet brother Charles by the</l>
					<l>nine train, he made his appearance, having an-</l>
					<l>-ticipated us by taking the slow two o&apos;clock line. We</l>
					<l>are delighted to have him here at last. He looks</l>
					<l>very thin, but otherwise seems well.</l>
					<l>Sunday 17<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>It was so cold this morning that I gave</l>
					<l>up going to church as I had intended. We talked over</l>
					<l>home-friends with Charles, - Carrie wrote a letter for me - &amp;</l>
					<l>almost as soon as we were ready to sit down in the</l>
					<l>drawing room, the widely-famed Beatrice Mancini was</l>
					<l>shown in. When I have such visitors as this it makes</l>
					<l>me regret my own inability to go out and do my share</l>
					<l>in keeping up the intercourse Madame Mancini has such</l>
					<l>a large circle of acquaintance that it must be very difficult</l>
					<l>for her to make even return-visits, much less to go often to</l>
					<l>see those who never visit and can of course set up no</l>
					<l>claims. This charming woman did not disappoint me. She</l>
					<l>is still very handsome, with an expression such as you might</l>
					<l>expect from one who thinks as she can think and writes as</l>
					<l>she can write. She promises to come to me often and to</l>
					<l>bring her daughters for Carrie&apos;s sake, but I know it will</l>
					<l>be difficult for her to keep her promise. The venerable</l>
					<l>Castillia came to give Mr Marsh some information which</l>
					<l>Mr Norton of Cambridge has asked for. As I listened to</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='28'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>him and watched his almost more than humanly</l>
					<l>benign countenance I could not help saying to myself</l>
					<l>&quot;were there ever<hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>y</hi> confessors such as Italy&apos;s confessors?&quot;</l>
					<l>Here was a man condemned to death in the very glory</l>
					<l>of his youth by an accursed [illegible]</l>
					<l>tyranny,</l>
					<l>the sentence remitted</l>
					<l>for a fourteen years&apos; imprisonment in the Spielberg,</l>
					<l>then released only on condition of a distant exile, and</l>
					<l>yet this man stands before us without one line of</l>
					<l>dark and passionate resentment traceable in his</l>
					<l>countenance, without one drop of bitterness in his</l>
					<l>heart. One feels almost like falling on one&apos;s knees</l>
					<l>before such grandeur of soul.</l>
					<l>Monday Jan. 18<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>The papers say dear old Plana is</l>
					<l>worse this morning; I shall send at once to see. The</l>
					<l>post brought me a charming letter from the Baroness</l>
					<l>Gautier, as graceful and affectionate as she is herself.</l>
					<l>The cold is bitter this morning - the thermometer under</l>
					<l>the portici indicating [illegible]</l>
					<l>nine</l>
					<l>below zero of Fahrenheit.</l>
					<l>The news from Plana is that he is not expected to</l>
					<l>live through the night. His words when he came in</l>
					<l>to see me that last time seem to be about to prove</l>
					<l>prophetic. - &apos;I have come to take leave of you before I</l>
					<l>go <hi rend='underlined:true;'>up there</hi>&apos; I believe these murderous doctors have</l>
					<l>killed him. Husband went to the Court-Ball this</l>
					<l>evening. We had no visitors except Mr Artoni who</l>
					<l>came in for a few minutes before going to the Mancini.</l>
					<l>He says the whole story about the late conspiracy against</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='29'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>the life of the Emperor is a sheer fabrication so far as it</l>
					<l>relates to Mazzini. Mazzini&apos;s letter of denial</l>
					<l>might by many be regarded as inconclusive, but the</l>
					<l>whole story of his agency in the matter is so monstrously</l>
					<l>improbable that few are found to give any faith to it.</l>
					<l>Indeed, the general opinion is that the whole thing has</l>
					<l>been got up in Paris to give the Emperor the benefit of a</l>
					<l>temporary diversion of the public attention from one quarter</l>
					<l>to another.</l>
					<l>Tuesday Jan. 19<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Another bitter cold morning - ther-</l>
					<l>-mometer nine degrees below zero under the portici - </l>
					<l>two below at the Observatory a hundred feet higher. It</l>
					<l>is hard work to keep warm and we grumble sadly</l>
					<l>ourselves, and lament over those who are worse off</l>
					<l>still. A poor sentinel was found dead at his post</l>
					<l>sometime in the night. Mr Marsh came home from</l>
					<l>the Court-Ball soon after midnight, waiting only for</l>
					<l>the King to retire. It differed from other brilliant shows</l>
					<l>of the kind only in this - that the King talked to several</l>
					<l>ladies which he has never been known to do but</l>
					<l>once before on such an occasion. The observed of</l>
					<l>all observers were Rattazzi and his noted spouse.</l>
					<l>She occupied a conspicuous seat in the Ball-room</l>
					<l>and Rattazzi stood by her for the first hour or</l>
					<l>two, then sat down at her right hand. During the</l>
					<l>three hours and a half that Mr Marsh was in</l>
					<l>the room he saw but one person speak to them</l>
					<l>- a lady whom he did not know. If this is an</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='30'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>example of the way in which this interesting couple</l>
					<l>are treated generally I do not wonder that they are</l>
					<l>said to make a <hi rend='underlined:true;'>triste figure</hi> everywhere.</l>
					<l>Wednesday Jan. 20<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>[Image] This morning at half past nine a</l>
					<l>great light passed forever out of our human horizon. -</l>
					<l>Glorious old Plana has gone to his rest. Great men</l>
					<l>may arise to fill his place, but the like of him <hi rend='underlined:true;'>we</hi> cannot</l>
					<l>hope to see again. The city will do everything in her</l>
					<l>power to show that it is a grievous mourning to her.</l>
					<l>Another conspicuous person died yesterday the old</l>
					<l>Marchesa Barolo leaving a magnificent estate, it is said,</l>
					<l>to the King. It was with this lady that Silvio Pellico</l>
					<l>passed his last years, acting as her secretary, and it is</l>
					<l>with the servants of her family that he lies buried. I</l>
					<l>have taken much pains to ascertain whether this was</l>
					<l>really done at the earnest request of Pellico himself (as</l>
					<l>many declare) or whether it was merely the result of</l>
					<l>those sharp social distinctions which even ten years</l>
					<l>ago admitted of no modification. One thing is certain</l>
					<l>- the countess, though her early life was a life of</l>
					<l>pleasure, has devoted all her later years to the most</l>
					<l>extensive and noble charities. It is stated on what</l>
					<l>seems good authority that she has given yearly to</l>
					<l>the poor in house-rent along the sum of one</l>
					<l>hundred and forty thousand francs. The poor</l>
					<l>Marchesa Doria is once more in an almost dying</l>
					<l>condition - The Countess della Rocca and the Countess</l>
					<l>Radicati, speaking to us of her today said that</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='31'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>she insisted that her sister, the Del Borgo, should</l>
					<l>go to the Court-Ball Monday evening because she</l>
					<l>wished to have the pleasure of seeing her</l>
					<l>toilette - that she hoped herself to be able to go</l>
					<l>to the next one, although her physicians gave her</l>
					<l>not the least hope of living through the week.</l>
					<l>And one of these ladies added - &quot;Pauvre dame,</l>
					<l>naturellement elle a voulu profitter du peu de</l>
					<l>vie qui lui reste.&quot; I could find no words to</l>
					<l>reply to his remark - I was struck dumb - I felt</l>
					<l>that there was something wider and deeper than</l>
					<l>the Atlantic between New England and Italy.</l>
					<l>Thursday 21</l>
					<l>The Gajanis, who spent last</l>
					<l>evening with us say they get the most encour-</l>
					<l>-aging letters from home. It was delightful to hear</l>
					<l>Gajani and his brother talk their beautiful Italian.</l>
					<l>Vegezzi-Ruscalla brought in his daughter this</l>
					<l>morning. She talks better than she writes, and</l>
					<l>on the whole I liked her much. It is amusing to</l>
					<l>see how both her father and she are swallowed</l>
					<l>up in Wallachia, both mounted on the same hobby,</l>
					<l>but it is delightful to see people in earnest about</l>
					<l>anything. In the evening all went to the Opera</l>
					<l>except myself.</l>
					<l>Friday Jan. 22<hi rend='superscript:true;'>nd</hi>.</l>
					<l>We went for M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Gajani,</l>
					<l>then to Ruscalla&apos;s lecture-room but found there</l>
					<l>would be no lecture on account of Plana&apos;s funeral</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='32'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>We could not see the connection, as this latter was</l>
					<l>to take place three hours later. After driving round</l>
					<l>the Piazza d&apos;Armi we left M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Gajani - and</l>
					<l>returned home - Gaetano went for his funeral-</l>
					<l>-torch, and this is all we were expected to do</l>
					<l>by way of honouring the mighty dead. I had</l>
					<l>scarcely got home when M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Matteucci</l>
					<l>came in. She is really a woman of far higher</l>
					<l>stamp than I had supposed - morally I knew</l>
					<l>her worth, but her intellect and her accom-</l>
					<l>-plishments I had greatly underrated. She keeps</l>
					<l>her light quite too much under a bushel - thereby</l>
					<l>losing the social influence she might have</l>
					<l>which would be invaluable in a place like</l>
					<l>this. Besides, by making herself purely her husbands</l>
					<l>drudge, copying for him by night and by day,</l>
					<l>yielding to all his caprices, and patiently bearing</l>
					<l>all his sudden outbreaks she has lost her influence</l>
					<l>in a great measure over him. Thank God, I</l>
					<l>have no occasion to speak from experience, but</l>
					<l>it is my firm conviction that those wives who</l>
					<l>sacrifice themselves in this way to the unreasonable</l>
					<l>whims of their husbands do a serious injury to</l>
					<l>the man they wish to benefit, forfeit his respect,</l>
					<l>and make their own lives useless to him and</l>
					<l>to themselves. M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Matteucci is very proud of</l>
					<l>her husband, and has good reason to be. He is</l>
					<l>a great man, but he would have a fairer fame</l>
					<l>if she stood firmly by his side, than he</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='33'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>now has when she crouches at his feet. She</l>
					<l>made me a long visit; we talked of the Brownings</l>
					<l>with whom she was very intimate - she says</l>
					<l>the last letter Mrs Browning ever wrote was to</l>
					<l>her. She also told me of her mother&apos;s (Mrs</l>
					<l>Young&apos;s) two volume-book on Paleario and</l>
					<l>his times, and she promises to send it me. The</l>
					<l>old lady, now eighty I think, made all the</l>
					<l>vast researches which these books show, herself,</l>
					<l>and wrote every line of it for the press with</l>
					<l>her own aged hand. She then went to Cambridge</l>
					<l>and supervised the printing herself. Cantù has</l>
					<l>spoken of it with high praise. The Count</l>
					<l>and Countess Maggiolini came as M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Mat-</l>
					<l>-teucci left. The Count is a hard dark-looking</l>
					<l>man, might be an Italian of Anne Radcliffe&apos;s</l>
					<l>imagination. - The Countess I fancy has seen</l>
					<l>storms, but she is evidently a high-spirited</l>
					<l>woman with good sense enough not to quarrel</l>
					<l>about trifles, and yet courage enough not to</l>
					<l>allow her heart to be broken, even by the</l>
					<l>man who supposes he has established un-</l>
					<l>-limited rights over her by giving her a</l>
					<l>five-hundred-year-old name, She asked many</l>
					<l>questions about America and our talk ended</l>
					<l>by her taking home Paris en Amérique.</l>
					<l>In the evening we went to hear Bon&apos; Compagni</l>
					<l>lecture on Constitutions &amp;c. Everything that verged</l>
					<l>on the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>haute société</hi> stayed away this evening</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='34'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>for fear of hearing something that might shock their</l>
					<l>nerves. Nothing however could be more calm,</l>
					<l>more dignified, more free from everything ultra,</l>
					<l>that was this lecture. He dwelt on the dangers</l>
					<l>of inconsiderate haste in all questions of reform</l>
					<l>civil and religious, he maintained the Christian</l>
					<l>Religion to be the surest guide that man has</l>
					<l>ever received, or ever could receive, for his</l>
					<l>course in this life. It had proclaimed the true</l>
					<l>principles of civil and religious liberty, and had</l>
					<l>pointed out the way by which these blessings</l>
					<l>were to be secured. He then went on to show</l>
					<l>that the parasite superstition was growing in</l>
					<l>Italy by the side of this glorious plant and</l>
					<l>sapping out its life, that it was the duty of</l>
					<l>all great thinkers, of all earnest men, of</l>
					<l>all true patriots, to try to separate the true</l>
					<l>from the false, and restore the heaven-</l>
					<l>-descended vine to health and vigour. I</l>
					<l>have seldom seen a more striking-looking</l>
					<l>man - His dark piercing eye, his strong square</l>
					<l>jaw, his firm mouth, contrasted strangely</l>
					<l>with a trembling of the hand, and an</l>
					<l>agitation of the voice which indicated great</l>
					<l>nervous sensibility. He was not fluent, and</l>
					<l>nevertheless there was something about him</l>
					<l>which reminded me of Rufus Choate -</l>
					<l>perhaps it was the nervous manner more</l>
					<l>than anything else. He made on us the</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='35'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>impression of a man who had studied</l>
					<l>carefully, thought profoundly, and who acted</l>
					<l>from the highest convictions of duty. Just</l>
					<l>before the Lecture began Matteucci came and</l>
					<l>shook hands with me saying with a most</l>
					<l>gracious smile &quot;Ma femme vous donnera</l>
					<l>a que vous avez demandé - il y en a une</l>
					<l>expris pour vous&quot; -. I understood in a moment</l>
					<l>what it meant. I had asked Mad. M. for an auto-</l>
					<l>graph of her husband for the benefit of the Fair for the</l>
					<l>Sanitary Commission to be held in [illegible] New York</l>
					<l>in March. He had given it, and one for me personally,</l>
					<l>Madame M. handed me the envelope, it contained</l>
					<l>3 photographs with autograph signatures, 2 for the</l>
					<l>Fair, one of Massimo d&apos;Azeglio the other of Matteucci, &amp;</l>
					<l>a third of Matteucci for me. This is a good beginning</l>
					<l>of our quête and I hope we shall get treasures.</l>
					<l>Saturday 23 Jan.</l>
					<l>Like the morning of so many other days</l>
					<l>this passed till dressing-time I cannot say how. Mrs Colonel</l>
					<l>Mayhew came in almost as soon as I had taken my</l>
					<l>seat in the drawing-room. The young Countess Colegno<hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>,</hi> was</l>
					<l>my only other visitor till evening. This lady spoke affectionately</l>
					<l>of the Doria, said she did not go to Mrs Elliot&apos;s on her</l>
					<l>account, &amp;c. She gave me the first intelligible account</l>
					<l>I have had of the Marchesa&apos;s illness - some having said</l>
					<l>she was dying of <hi rend='underlined:true;'>extinction</hi> - others of <hi rend='underlined:true;'>asphyxia</hi>. &amp;</l>
					<l>Madame Colegno says her lungs are very seriously</l>
					<l>diseased, but water about the heart is the real</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='36'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>malady of which she is dying. In the evening all</l>
					<l>but myself went to hear Ristori in <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Pia dei Tolomei</hi>.</l>
					<l>I was well repaid for staying at home by the most</l>
					<l>agreeable company of the Count and Countess Gigliucci.</l>
					<l>The latter had as much original remark and as</l>
					<l>much of interesting anecdote as usual. She is really</l>
					<l>delightful. Her frankness verges on bluntness sometimes,</l>
					<l>but her conversation is charming even when she expresses</l>
					<l>opinions very opposite one&apos;s own. She describes herself as</l>
					<l>a warm immoveable catholic, but no <hi rend='underlined:true;'>papist</hi>. If</l>
					<l>she but knew it, what she has taken away from</l>
					<l>catholicism leaves nothing but Protestantism. When</l>
					<l>I told her where the rest of the family were she</l>
					<l>said &apos;Ah I am sorry for them; - the Ristori of today</l>
					<l>is not the Ristori of ten years ago; - her acting has become</l>
					<l>so exaggerated that she who once made my tears flow</l>
					<l>uncontrolled now only provokes me to laughter -</l>
					<l>even</l>
					<l>in</l>
					<l>the most tragic of tragedies.&apos; Mr Marsh and</l>
					<l>Carrie came home with exactly the same impression.</l>
					<l>Carrie says she made even the death-scene comic.</l>
					<l>And this the Italians attribute to the influence of</l>
					<l>French bad-taste</l>
					<l>Sunday Jan. 24<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>We all went to Church this</l>
					<l>morning except Charles, but Mr Tottenham&apos;s extempore</l>
					<l>sermon was by no means one of his best efforts. I was glad</l>
					<l>to see that Mrs Elliot was not knocked up by her party</l>
					<l>Friday evening, and was half tempted to give the promise</l>
					<l>she tried to get from me that I would come to one</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='37'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>of the two following Friday-evening gatherings. Mr Marsh</l>
					<l>went to hear Mr Meille in the afternoon, and was</l>
					<l>nearly chilled through. They have no fire in the Vaudois</l>
					<l>church. The Duchess de la Force was announced</l>
					<l>about four o&apos;clock. She came in a magnificent toilette</l>
					<l>which was becoming as well, and I have never seen</l>
					<l>her look so finely. She certainly is a most amiable</l>
					<l>person - kind to high and low, which makes one</l>
					<l>ready to forgive her much vanity and folly. She claims</l>
					<l>cousin-ship with the Malarets. In the evening we</l>
					<l>read a most interesting article on Vinet in the Revue</l>
					<l>des Deux Mondes written by a most liberal christian</l>
					<l>who nevertheless still calls himself a Catholic.</l>
					<l>Monday, January. 25<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Mrs Tottenham dropped in after one</l>
					<l>of her morning rounds. She had a nice anecdote from</l>
					<l>Mad. Gigliucci. A lady caught a <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>roieque</hi></l>
					<l>rogue</l>
					<l>trying to pick</l>
					<l>her pocket in church - she resisted and used some</l>
					<l>vigorous language in rather audible tones. &quot;Mais, madame&quot;</l>
					<l>cried the thief, &apos;il ne faut pas faire tant de bruit</l>
					<l>dans la maison de Dieu!&quot; While we were</l>
					<l>out driving the Countess Castellani came with her little</l>
					<l>daughter</l>
					<l>Inez,</l>
					<l>the juvenile poetess and we missed her of course.</l>
					<l>Early in the evening Baruffi called to talk over his irrepa-</l>
					<l>rable loss in the death of Plana. Poor man, he feels</l>
					<l>it deeply and seems to find his best consolation in</l>
					<l>telling what his friend was. Plana, he says, paid little</l>
					<l>attention in general to his classes, but once a month</l>
					<l>perhaps he would call them together for a lecture.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='38'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>At such times he was actually sublime, would take up</l>
					<l>an idea from the lowest &amp; most hidden depth of man&apos;s nature</l>
					<l>and draw it out link after link in unbroken sequence</l>
					<l>till it reached the heavens, and all this in such a fiery</l>
					<l>heat that the perspiration would stand thick on his</l>
					<l>forehead, and not unfrequently he would throw off his</l>
					<l>coat and fling it behind his chair, never pausing</l>
					<l>however for a moment in the lava-tide of his eloquence.</l>
					<l>Sometimes his duties as Professor obliged him to examine</l>
					<l>students and of this he was very impatient. On one of these</l>
					<l>occasions, a student, who had already been examined by</l>
					<l>three professors and shown himself utterly incompetent,</l>
					<l>was brought before Plana. The old man had listened to</l>
					<l>the previous examinations and was furious that the student</l>
					<l>had presumed to offer himself for such a trial when</l>
					<l>he was so profoundly ignorant. &quot;Take your chalk&quot;</l>
					<l>said the indignant Plana, &quot;draw a horizontal line</l>
					<l>on the blackboard.&quot; The young man drew a short</l>
					<l>line. &quot;Continuez, continuez!&quot; He continued the line</l>
					<l>till it reached the frame of the board. &quot;Continuez,</l>
					<l>continuez,&quot; still shouted the angry master, and the</l>
					<l>student passed his line over the frame and along</l>
					<l>the wall till he reached the open door. Plana all</l>
					<l>the</l>
					<l>time crying out &quot;continuez, continuez.&quot; When the</l>
					<l>poor fellow reached the open space the master</l>
					<l>shouted, &quot;maintenant, sortez, sortez!&quot; and he disappeared,</l>
					<l>thankfully no doubt. Another story of his later days</l>
					<l>has its touching side. This was also on occasion of an</l>
					<l>examination. A young man was sent to the blackboard</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='39'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>to demonstrate a difficult problem. He began well, &quot;Bene, bene,</l>
					<l>said the professor, &quot;avanti, avanti! benissimo! avanti! bravo!&quot;</l>
					<l>and in this way he swept on his pupil, till suddenly the</l>
					<l>the [sic] young man became confused at a certain point,</l>
					<l>could not collect himself, trembled, turned pale, and</l>
					<l>Plana in his heat seized the chalk, dashed out what</l>
					<l>the <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>profe</hi> student had done, recommended the demonstra</l>
					<l>tion carried it on with the rapidity of lightning till he</l>
					<l>reached the very same point and there, by some strange</l>
					<l>fatality he became confused himself, lost the thread and</l>
					<l>could not recover it. After a moment&apos;s pause he exclaimed</l>
					<l>as he hurled the chalk to the opposite side of the lecture-</l>
					<l>room, Ecco cosa si guadagna! vivendo fra le bestie</l>
					<l>s&apos;imbestialisce!&quot; and he immediately went on to speak</l>
					<l>of something else. After the Abbé left us Mr</l>
					<l>Marsh went to the ministerial ball - crowded, hot, but</l>
					<l>most brilliantly decorated - in other respects like</l>
					<l>other balls -</l>
					<l>Tuesday Jan, 26</l>
					<l>We took a long drive after a hurried</l>
					<l>morning at home. All my spare thought &amp; moments</l>
					<l>are now given to making collections for the Sanitary</l>
					<l>Fairs. This evening I got the promise of a note from</l>
					<l>Silvio Pelico from the Countess Castellani whom I took</l>
					<l>again to Matteucci&apos;s lecture [illegible] Matteucci</l>
					<l>was more than himself to-night - but we were <hi rend='underlined:true;'>distracted</hi></l>
					<l>by the sudden appearance of a notoriety among us</l>
					<l>quite unlooked for - Madame Rattazzi Solms Bonaparte</l>
					<l>attended by a woman like unto herself and followed by</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='40'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>her pitiable-looking spouse. The lady came in very late</l>
					<l>wore a maroon-colored velvet dress &amp; cloak, the former trimmed</l>
					<l>with narrow bands of ermine from the bottom of the skirt</l>
					<l>to the knee. Around the bottom of the cloak was a [illegible]</l>
					<l>border of ermine ten inches deep at least. This garment</l>
					<l>she threw off as soon as she took her seat and disposed</l>
					<l>in [it] on her chair so as best to display its rich white satin</l>
					<l>quilted lining. Then too she had an opportunity of showing</l>
					<l>the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>taille</hi> of her dress <hi rend='underlined:true;'>a la jockey</hi> trimmed likewise</l>
					<l>with ermine. As</l>
					<l>soon as</l>
					<l>she had finished adjusting herself she</l>
					<l>raised her eye glass, in her whitegloved-hand covered with</l>
					<l>rings, and surveyed the audience with a look of cool</l>
					<l>impudence such as I never before saw in man or</l>
					<l>woman - it was sublime in its scornful indifference.</l>
					<l>The image of the Great King of Babylon had less</l>
					<l>brass in it than this creature carries in her face.</l>
					<l>Poor Rattazzi sat not far off, his serpentine head</l>
					<l>drapped now on this shoulder, now on that. Is <hi rend='underlined:true;'>she</hi></l>
					<l>pretty, beautiful? Her expression is so vulger that</l>
					<l>it is almost a sacrilege to apply such terms to her</l>
					<l>and yet I can see that a heart &amp; a conscience</l>
					<l>would have made her <hi rend='underlined:true;'>most beautful</hi> - no,</l>
					<l>I must add also the training of a lady, for as</l>
					<l>she is she does not know how to use her</l>
					<l>handkerchief without giving offense to good breeding.</l>
					<l>Wednesday Jan 27<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi>.</l>
					<l>The Countess Gigliucci brought me some</l>
					<l>treasures for the N. York S. C. Fair, among them a long</l>
					<l>letter to her husband from Gioberti, the signature only in his</l>
					<l>hand</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='41'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>She promises more nice things and I know she will keep</l>
					<l>word. While she was still with me the Countess Col-</l>
					<l>legno was announced - one of those true souls that come out</l>
					<l>glorious from the trial by fire. She is much younger than her</l>
					<l>sister the Marquesa Arconati and has in some respects</l>
					<l>had a wider experience. In speaking of her own life</l>
					<l>she says she was never <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>happy</hi> happier than when her hus-</l>
					<l>band, an exile, supported her in Paris by giving lessons <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>and</hi></l>
					<l>when she never had more than one servant for her modest</l>
					<l>apartment and when she opened the door to her visitors</l>
					<l>herself! She knows many Americans and loves them, but</l>
					<l>it is our antislavery heroes &amp; martyrs for whom she</l>
					<l>kindles into admiration. The Gasparins she knows per-</l>
					<l>sonally and praised unboundedly. One might expect</l>
					<l>her religious <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>predju</hi> prejudices would make her</l>
					<l>less sensible of their great merits, but it is not so.</l>
					<l>She left me with a promise to send an autograph of</l>
					<l>Manzoni for the great Fair. The Brows [Browns] came</l>
					<l>as she went out - their odd mother must have fur-</l>
					<l>nished them with their brains, <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>of</hi> a commodity they do</l>
					<l>not lack. - I sent C. to the Regio with Mme Bar-</l>
					<l>toleyns and went to bed early &amp; tired &amp; [illegible] lost a</l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>visito</hi> visit from my chatty friend Miss Arbesser <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>by</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>the</hi> in consequence.</l>
					<l>Thursday 28<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>After a great many ineffectual efforts at</l>
					<l>combination Mr Marsh and I succeeded in getting to</l>
					<l>Mr Meille&apos;s three o&apos;clock lecture at the little room used</l>
					<l>by the English on Sunday - Carrie in the meantime driving</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='42'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>about to leave packages, cards, &amp;c. The lecture was an</l>
					<l>interesting one, and the first prayer one of the most beautiful</l>
					<l>in every respect that I have ever heard. On our return we found</l>
					<l>new sets of cards implying more work of course.</l>
					<l>Friday 29<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi>.</l>
					<l>I was not well this morning but did</l>
					<l>not like to miss Ruscalla&apos;s lecture, so took M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Gajani</l>
					<l>there as usual. The Countess Piola came with Miss</l>
					<l>Ruscalla, and asked to be presented to me after the Lecture.</l>
					<l>She did not interest me in the least, though her features were</l>
					<l>very peculiar, a large, full, cold, grey eye, shaded by black lashes</l>
					<l>and thick black eyebrows. Her hair also was very black</l>
					<l>and a very unmistakable black moustache fringed her</l>
					<l>upper lip. I should have taken her for a Neapolitan -</l>
					<l>never certainly for a Hollendaise. Yet this is the woman</l>
					<l>who some twenty years ago agitated the little kingdom of Piedmont</l>
					<l>by running away from her Protestant father, then Minister</l>
					<l>from Holland at this Court, and taking refuge in a</l>
					<l>convent. Though it was perfectly understood that the young</l>
					<l>lady&apos;s object in abandoning her father&apos;s house and the</l>
					<l>religion in which she was educated, was to marry Count</l>
					<l>Piola, a connection her father opposed, yet even <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>the</hi></l>
					<l>Carlo Alberto himself admitted that once in a convent <hi rend='underlined:true;'>he</hi></l>
					<l>had no power to reach her. On hearing this admission</l>
					<l>from the lips of the King himself the indignant Minister</l>
					<l>said - &apos;Then your Majesty must pardon me if I refuse</l>
					<l>longer to represent my country at a court where the Kingly</l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>power</hi> power is ineffectual to protect me and my</l>
					<l>family. Accordingly he resigned his post, but oddly</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='43'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>enough his son, Heldewier, now represents the Dutch</l>
					<l>government here.</l>
					<l>Saturday Jan 30<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>While preparing to go last evening to</l>
					<l>hear Bon Compagni, I was suddenly taken ill and obliged</l>
					<l>to go directly to my bed. Mr Marsh and Carrie went to the</l>
					<l>Lecture at my earnest entreaty, but the Elliot ball was given</l>
					<l>up. I should have mentioned yesterday that the poor</l>
					<l>Marchesa Doria passed away Thursday night at mid-</l>
					<l>-night, and in the night last night the body was removed</l>
					<l>to the chapel at Montallo, one of the family seats. There was</l>
					<l>no ceremony of any kind here, partly it is said in order that</l>
					<l>the Carnival gaities may not be saddened. Carrie</l>
					<l>received the Menabreas today, but other visits were declined.</l>
					<l>Madame Gigliucci sent in more nice things for the fair.</l>
					<l>She is really a noble creature. Mr Marsh and Carrie</l>
					<l>passed the evening at her house, and she sang to them</l>
					<l>most delightfully. Among her treasures she has two copies</l>
					<l>of verses by Charles Lamb in his own hand - one is</l>
					<l>addressed to her individually as <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Saint Clare</hi>, the other</l>
					<l>to the Sisters Novello. She has an Album too containing</l>
					<l>lines from Coleridge, Capital things from Leigh Hunt etc.</l>
					<l>Sunday 31 Jan.</l>
					<l>After church Mr Marsh read to me</l>
					<l>as usual, but I felt almost too weak and ill to listen,</l>
					<l>and was hardly sorry when he was called back to his</l>
					<l>Library by gentlemen visitors. In the evening he went to</l>
					<l>a diplomatic dinner at the Malarets.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='44'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Monday February 1<hi rend='superscript:true;'>st</hi></l>
					<l>Another weary wasted day in bed, and</l>
					<l>made still more trying by visitors whom I could not receive.</l>
					<l>Husband went to the Court Ball in the evening, taking Mr</l>
					<l>Artoni in his new uniform with which he is much pleased.</l>
					<l>The Ball was far more brilliant than the first.</l>
					<l>Tuesday 2<hi rend='superscript:true;'>nd</hi></l>
					<l>I managed to lie on the sofa near the</l>
					<l>window long enough to settle up the monthly accounts, &amp;</l>
					<l>then returned to my bed tired out. In the evening</l>
					<l>Mr Marsh and Carrie were to have gone to Brofferio&apos;s</l>
					<l>Lecture, but the former did not feel well after dinner</l>
					<l>and it was given up. Worse still - we missed a visit</l>
					<l>from Dall&apos;Ongaro who came after the Lecture and found</l>
					<l>us shut up.</l>
					<l>Wednesday 3<hi rend='superscript:true;'>rd</hi></l>
					<l>I fled to Carrie&apos;s room to get away</l>
					<l>from the dancing-lesson, and the visitors it brings. I</l>
					<l>was sorry to be obliged to refuse to see the Countess Gigliucci,</l>
					<l>but could not help it. The great excitement of the last two</l>
					<l>or three days has been the actual breaking out of hostilities</l>
					<l>between the Germans and the Danes, but nobody thinks</l>
					<l>the strife will go far just at present. England will be</l>
					<l>guilty of any meanness rather than oppose Prussia</l>
					<l>and Austria by arms. She will see Denmark basely</l>
					<l>cut to pieces and never stir. - At the same time she</l>
					<l>tells Italy - &apos;Yes you have a right to Venice, but if you</l>
					<l>presume to strike a blow to get it, we shall help</l>
					<l>Austria defend herself against you.&apos; Great and just</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='45'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>England! Besides the dancers the Castagnettos payed</l>
					<l>Carrie a visit, and the abbé Baruffi and Mr Clay</l>
					<l>helped the rest of the family off with the evening</l>
					<l>while I moped on my sofa in my own room.</l>
					<l>Thursday <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>Friday</hi> February 4<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>This morning I took my old place on</l>
					<l>the sofa in the drawing room, but only in wrapper &amp;</l>
					<l>shawl. The day is lovely and the gentlemen have</l>
					<l>taken advantage of it for a long walk. Dr Monnet</l>
					<l>comes to propose to take Carrie to the Regio tonight.</l>
					<l>Miss Arbesser passed the evening with me in her usual</l>
					<l>good spirits, but mentioned some circumstances about</l>
					<l>her health which give me great anxiety. She has kept secret</l>
					<l>consequences of a slight accident at Naples six months ago until I</l>
					<l>greatly fear a very serious result. She is to see a physician</l>
					<l>Sunday morning. Among the small gossip of the evening Miss Arbesser</l>
					<l>told us some anecdotes of her little princess not without interest.</l>
					<l>Her monthly allowance in pocket-money is ten francs, and out of</l>
					<l>this she has to furnish herself with drawing pencils - also if she</l>
					<l>wishes to make Christmas presents to friends, or any other gifts</l>
					<l>they must be saved out of this sum in the course of the year.</l>
					<l>Little Madame Marguerite laid aside last year two francs</l>
					<l>every month to make Miss Arbesser a New Year&apos;s present, and</l>
					<l>scarcely anything of the rest was spent upon her own pleasures.</l>
					<l>This winter, having little or nothing to give to the poor she and</l>
					<l>prince Thomas gathered up what they could spare from among</l>
					<l>their books and playthings, put them into a Lottery, sold the</l>
					<l>tickets to the little Marchesine and Marchesini, Contessine</l>
					<l>and Contessini who are now allowed to dance and play</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='46'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>with them, and in this way they raised about 200 francs!</l>
					<l>Friday Feb. 5<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Brother Charles is quite ill today from a cold</l>
					<l>taken yesterday. We are all feeling rather blue, but Mr Marsh</l>
					<l>and Carrie had to go to a Ball nevertheless, at the Elliots,</l>
					<l>- very grand and gay.</l>
					<l>Saturday 6<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>I was vexed beyond measure to find</l>
					<l>that old Peter Browne had made Mr Marsh promise to come</l>
					<l>and dine with him this evening. The silly old hypocrite</l>
					<l>who ought to be totally suppressed, thinks he makes up for his</l>
					<l>impertinent arrogance in talking of American affairs, by asking</l>
					<l>Mr Marsh to dine with him! - In general I have small con-</l>
					<l>cern in watching over our personal dignity, but in this case I</l>
					<l>wish Mr Marsh had declined. Luckily Dall&apos;Ongaro&apos;s Lecture</l>
					<l>for tonight is given up or it would have been a double penance</l>
					<l>to have dined with old Peter, and missed the poet in consequence</l>
					<l>Brother Charles is not better, and we feel very anxious.</l>
					<l>Sunday 7<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> Feb.</l>
					<l>Contrary to all our habits Mr Marsh and Carrie</l>
					<l>went to a Ball tonight at the Roràs. Mr Marsh felt there</l>
					<l>were reasons why it would not do to decline, so they went</l>
					<l>for a couple of hours coming home at twelve. The beautiful</l>
					<l>Marchesa was almost outshone by her still more beautiful</l>
					<l>sister in law the Countess. So these little things take up our</l>
					<l>time and thoughts while the flames of war are blazing in</l>
					<l>the North, and while even the very men and women</l>
					<l>here who are the gayest would not be surprised at any moment</l>
					<l>to hear the canon in their own frontier.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='47'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Monday - February 8<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>We are so happy to see Charles better this morning.</l>
					<l>We had an unusually quiet day and all were rejoiced to be</l>
					<l>allowed to stay at home for one evening, and be left to our-</l>
					<l>-selves too.</l>
					<l>Tuesday 9<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Mrs Tottenham came in early with Madeline</l>
					<l>and we had a nice talk which we have not had for a</l>
					<l>long time before. She is severe in her judgment (an</l>
					<l>unusual thing for her) of the Duchess de la Force,</l>
					<l>and says Mrs Elliot is greatly annoyed at being</l>
					<l>obliged to receive her, her cousin-ship to the Malarets</l>
					<l>making it unavoidable. Mrs T_. thinks she has pos-</l>
					<l>-itive evidence that the duchess, after repeated attempts,</l>
					<l>managed to cajole Garibaldi into her apartment,</l>
					<l>in a secret cabinet of which, she had concealed a</l>
					<l>French officer, and in this way every word the hero</l>
					<l>said was transmitted to the Emperor. If I believed</l>
					<l>that this woman [illegible]</l>
					<l>was</l>
					<l>really a spy of Louis Napoleon</l>
					<l>I would sooner see a serpent than her; but these English</l>
					<l>are so besotted with <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>the idea</hi> their suspicions about</l>
					<l>French spies that one must not trust too much to</l>
					<l>their testimony. At any rate I have never felt like</l>
					<l>courting the duchess, and am naturally enough not the</l>
					<l>more drawn towards her after this Garibaldi story.</l>
					<l>In one thing at least I could enter into Mrs T__&apos;s feelings -</l>
					<l>- the Denmark affair mortifies her extremely, and she</l>
					<l>says her son in the navy writes that if England is not</l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>willn</hi> willing to eat still more dirt he shall soon</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='48'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>be sent to the Baltic. I wanted to add: &apos;England <hi rend='underlined:true;'>will</hi></l>
					<l>eat more dirt&apos; - but I had too much respect for the</l>
					<l>feelings of this dear good woman. Saint as she is she</l>
					<l>was a little ruffled by her morning&apos;s adventure. She</l>
					<l>had been to the Hotel Féder to see Mrs __ a more than</l>
					<l>millionaire, that lady wishing her to go out shopping</l>
					<l>with her. After detaining Mrs T__. more than an hour</l>
					<l>while she attended to some trifling matters, the rich</l>
					<l>dame ordered a lunch of bread and butter and vin</l>
					<l>ordinaire. When they had eaten what they liked the</l>
					<l>wealthy witch spent a quarter of an hour in gathering</l>
					<l>up the fragments and locking them up together with the</l>
					<l>third part of the bottle of wine, &quot;<hi rend='underlined:true;'>for</hi>,&quot; said she, &quot;<hi rend='underlined:true;'>these</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>scraps and this bit of wine ye know&apos;ll do for my</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>supper</hi>.&quot; !!! The Gajanis spent the evening with</l>
					<l>us till Mr Marsh and Carrie went to spend the</l>
					<l>remainder of the night at the Pasolinis. At midnight</l>
					<l>carnival died, and was burned, amidst the roar of small</l>
					<l>arms and the flying of fireworks. I wish it were</l>
					<l>indeed the end of the carnival, but the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>gala corso</hi> is</l>
					<l>still to come off. Mr Marsh and Carrie thought the</l>
					<l>masking and the comic procession very indifferent on</l>
					<l>Monday, - they did not go to the Coriandoli today.</l>
					<l>Mrs Gajani brought me an autograph from Dall&apos;</l>
					<l>Ongaro. She is very active for the fair - has got a</l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>capital</hi> letter from Silvio Pellico among other things.</l>
					<l>Wednesday 10<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>We did not go to church this morning</l>
					<l>partly because it was so bitter cold. The Countess</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='49'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Gigliucci entertained me for an hour in her best way.</l>
					<l>Miss Arbesser passed the evening with us. She says</l>
					<l>that the Marquis della Rovere told her that when he</l>
					<l>and the Marquise were at Pegli last summer they</l>
					<l>found themselves just opposite the Rattazzis at the</l>
					<l>Tâble d&apos;hôte. M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Rattazzi immediately inquired</l>
					<l>of her husband who M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> della Rovere was. Rattazzi</l>
					<l>tried to keep her quiet, but finally was obliged to say</l>
					<l>that it was the Marquise della Rovere. &quot;<hi rend='underlined:true;'>Pas grand&apos;</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>chose, n&apos;est-ce-pas</hi>?&quot; said this scion of the House of</l>
					<l>Napoleon.</l>
					<l>Thursday. 11. February,</l>
					<l>Husband left this morning for Milan</l>
					<l>the King goes this afternoon. There will be gay times</l>
					<l>there no doubt. The Countess Collegno brought her niece</l>
					<l>Miss Trotti to see Carrie. This young lady is a granddaughter</l>
					<l>of Manzoni, a nice girl who speaks English very prettily.</l>
					<l>M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Collegno&apos;s visit was delightful to me. We talked</l>
					<l>of so many mutual acquaintances - M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Ossoli, the</l>
					<l>Brownings, the Brooks, &amp;c. &amp;c. This lady has all</l>
					<l>that is most charming in the Italian character with</l>
					<l>that wider experience which enriches life so vastly -</l>
					<l>She told me much of Manzoni who spends some months</l>
					<l>with the Arconatis every summer. She says his shyness</l>
					<l>towards strangers arises from the fact that his trifling</l>
					<l>conversations with them have been so often noted down</l>
					<l>and printed. With his intimate friends however he is most</l>
					<l>genial, his conversation being still full of wit and</l>
					<l>sprightliness. At this advanced age (78) nothing</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='50'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>escapes his observation; not even a lady&apos;s toilette. His</l>
					<l>heavy family trials have greatly affected him, but they</l>
					<l>have not broken him down. His lovely wife died when</l>
					<l>his children were all young, leaving two sons and five</l>
					<l>daughters. Of the last, all but one died before the age</l>
					<l>of twenty four. Neither of the sons have done him</l>
					<l>credit. The oldest, the least unworthy married a</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>danseuse</hi>. Morally the poor girl has done well,</l>
					<l>but without education, without the manners of a lady</l>
					<l>what a daughter-in-law for Manzoni. This son however</l>
					<l>lives with him. The other (says M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Collegno) has</l>
					<l>sunk far lower, has trailed the great name of Manzoni</l>
					<l>in the dust - in short has done all a young man</l>
					<l>could do to break his father&apos;s heart, But above all this</l>
					<l>the noble old man has risen. At times he is deeply</l>
					<l>depressed, but generally cheerful and contented.</l>
					<l>Friday - 12. February</l>
					<l>Mrs Gajani and I decided on a drive instead</l>
					<l>of going to Ruscalla&apos;s Lecture as we have found it impossible</l>
					<l>to understand him at his last readings, he holding his</l>
					<l>manuscript just before his mouth and articulating very</l>
					<l>rapidly. The Opinione this morning has a most</l>
					<l>warlike article, in which England is hit very hard. In</l>
					<l>fact the war fever is spreading very fast. Austria continues</l>
					<l>to make new and more threatening demonstrations on the</l>
					<l>Italian frontier every day. Even Gajani who is a peace-</l>
					<l>-man just now, thinks war probable. Returning from</l>
					<l>our drive I stopped below to pay a visit to M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi></l>
					<l>Ghirardi - alias the Marquise d&apos;Angennes. Poor thing</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='51'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>She is in great distress about her son, first because he has</l>
					<l>run away with a <hi rend='underlined:true;'>danseuse</hi>, and second because she is</l>
					<l>afraid if he comes back it will only be to be off again to</l>
					<l>the wars. I tried to comfort her, but there is little comfort</l>
					<l>to be given to a mother under such circumstances - .</l>
					<l>&quot;Ah,&quot; said she, &quot;I am working so hard to save my fortune</l>
					<l>for my children, I am ruining my health, and</l>
					<l>breaking my heart for them, and they - they are so</l>
					<l>ungrateful.&quot; She really seems thankful to us for not</l>
					<l>tormenting her with our wants about the house, and</l>
					<l>graciously told me that I was an angel not to com-</l>
					<l>-plain more than I have done. In the evening</l>
					<l>C. and I went for the Countess Castellani, and then with</l>
					<l>her to the Lecture. The subject was; The Revelations of</l>
					<l>Light, - and Prof. Govi was delightfully clear and eloquent.</l>
					<l>His experiments were generally successful, and many of them</l>
					<l>beautiful - . The hall was crowded to overflowing, many</l>
					<l>stood and many went away. These Lectures are now a</l>
					<l>decided success, and the only danger is that they will be</l>
					<l>given so frequently as to lessen or destroy the interest in</l>
					<l>them. I had the Countess Collegno at my side, and</l>
					<l>she managed to find time to tell me of M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Arconati&apos;s</l>
					<l>unsuccessful trip to Nervi to cure a sore throat. She</l>
					<l>was overtaken by a snowstorm before arriving at Genoa,</l>
					<l>detained there, and nearly perishing with the cold.</l>
					<l>Saturday 13<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>We all worked over our old autographs</l>
					<l>the whole morning - I might say the whole day, for</l>
					<l>nobody came to disturb us till evening. We shall</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='52'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>really have a very rare and curious collection to send to</l>
					<l>the N.Y. fair for the San. Com. In the evening the</l>
					<l>abbé Baruffi came to report progress. He too will</l>
					<l>get quite a nice collection. Carrie read Kalewala to me</l>
					<l>after he left. I really enjoy it almost more than on the</l>
					<l>first reading.</l>
					<l>Sunday 14 -</l>
					<l>After we returned from church</l>
					<l>Mr Valerio came to see me and added many curious</l>
					<l>particulars to the life of the Marchesa Barolo, as</l>
					<l>given by the canonico - in the Gazetta Ufficiale.</l>
					<l>There her family, her beauty,</l>
					<l>her talents</l>
					<l>her wealth, and her</l>
					<l>charity are made conspicuous as they well deserve</l>
					<l>to be, and her superstitions are kept out of sight. It</l>
					<l>was she however who <hi rend='underlined:true;'>discovered</hi> the relics of Saint</l>
					<l>Philomene, brought the bones from Rome, placed</l>
					<l>them under her bed, and was in this way entirely cured</l>
					<l>of the Cataleptic attacks to which she had been pre-</l>
					<l>-viously subject. The bones were then brought out for</l>
					<l>public adoration, then covered with wax so as to rep-</l>
					<l>-resent a handsome young woman, and this image was</l>
					<l>placed in a rich sarcofagus with glass sides, the figure</l>
					<l>within being dressed in magnificent robes and adorned</l>
					<l>with precious stones. The Jesuits carried off the adornments</l>
					<l>and the votive offerings when they fled from Turin</l>
					<l>in ’48, but the wax and bones were left. It does seem</l>
					<l>sad indeed that a woman of so much talent and so</l>
					<l>many virtues should have fallen in to such a miserable</l>
					<l>folly as this. Valerio also gave me an interesting account</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='53'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>of his early life in Turin, of Lorenzo’s establishing a small</l>
					<l>paper here, of his difficulties with the government in general</l>
					<l>and Count Lazzari, the chef de police, in particular -</l>
					<l>of Carlo Alberto’s anger about a speech he made at the</l>
					<l>meeting of an agricultural society, and of many other things</l>
					<l>connected with the good old time that might afford lessons</l>
					<l>to many an American grumbler. He also explained how</l>
					<l>it was that some thirty of the famous old families here</l>
					<l>were now very poor.</l>
					<l>Monday 15<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Mr Marsh came home from Milan</l>
					<l>about one, The King’s visit there went off extremely well.</l>
					<l>There were a great many blunders about invitations and</l>
					<l>little points of etiquette, but nothing that led to serious</l>
					<l>trouble. Out of respect to the democratic feeling of Milan nobody</l>
					<l>wore uniforms - not even to the court Ball or the Court dinner -</l>
					<l>At the dinner Mr Marsh had Prince Amadeo on one</l>
					<l>Hand, &amp; General Menabrea on the other - He think the</l>
					<l>Prince has excellent sense, and</l>
					<l>is</l>
					<l>quite of the Carlo Alberto</l>
					<l>type. Menabrea is always agreeable. Her Royal Highness</l>
					<l>explained the diminished magnificence of dress and</l>
					<l>equipage at Milan by the fact of the failure of the silk</l>
					<l>and wine for so many years - The throwing of the</l>
					<l>confetti was very lively - the French Legation joined</l>
					<l>Mr Marsh on his balcony the first day bringing with them</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>more than fifteen bushels</hi> of plaster of Paris confetti.</l>
					<l>These gentlemen all wore their roughest hunting suits,</l>
					<l>and, to use Mr Marsh’s expression, they screamed and</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='54'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Pa-ruc-h-ere - sign seen in Milano</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='55'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>yelled like pirates,’ as they pelted the unhappy people</l>
					<l>in the streets and on the opposite and neighboring balconies.</l>
					<l>The next day Mr Marsh furnished the fifteen bushels</l>
					<l>of coriandoli and the Frenchmen diverted themselves</l>
					<l>immensely as on the day before. There are few things</l>
					<l>that would more astonish a sober New Englander than</l>
					<l>to see for the first time a whole city gone mad in this</l>
					<l>way, but it is surprising how soon one feels disposed</l>
					<l>to take part in the frolic - One car amused Mr Marsh</l>
					<l>very much. The chief personage in it represented the</l>
					<l>Arch-duke Maximilian, and the car bore the inscription</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>Via pel Messico</hi>!</l>
					<l>Tuesday 16<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Worked all day nearly in sorting out</l>
					<l>autographs for the fair, and were fortunate in having</l>
					<l>fewer interruptions than usual, the Countesses Maggiolini</l>
					<l>and Giletta being the only ones. In the evening Doctor</l>
					<l>Monnet came to look after Mr Marsh who had last night</l>
					<l>one of his not infrequent attacks of suffocation, and by</l>
					<l>far the most terrible one he has ever had. The Dr. con-</l>
					<l>-firms our belief that it was purely mechanical, arising</l>
					<l>from the falling of the palate, or, as he calls it the [illegible]</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>louette</hi>, though I could see plainly that he feared it</l>
					<l>was a symptom of advanced heart-disease.</l>
					<l>Wednesday 17<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>The war-talk grows louder and</l>
					<l>louder, The Ministry here is thought to be shaky and</l>
					<l>some even dream of Ricasoli’s return. This reminds</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='56'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>me to make a record of a most delicately turned note which</l>
					<l>I received from him yesterday inclosing some photographs</l>
					<l>with his signature. Some talk of Rattazzi as possibly the</l>
					<l>next Minister, and argue this partly because the King</l>
					<l>spoke to Madame in Milan. I hope Italy is not</l>
					<l>reduced to this yet. Today we have had some</l>
					<l>fine presents for the fair - a very nice gun which</l>
					<l>is supposed to be from Garibaldi - twenty photographs</l>
					<l>from him with his signature and with a beautiful</l>
					<l>note. - some most interesting autographs from Signor</l>
					<l>Migliavacca of Milan - some fine engravings from</l>
					<l>the editors of the Politecnico - also some water colour</l>
					<l>copies from Albani - and one beautiful photograph</l>
					<l>of the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Il Moderno Caino</hi>. V. Vela also has sent us</l>
					<l>some photographs of his charming works. Most</l>
					<l>of these things we owe to the zeal of Col. Ripetti.</l>
					<l>Husband, also, has got a shy at the Marchesa della</l>
					<l>Rocca, who wrote this morning to ask a favour of</l>
					<l>him which he grants cheerfully with the intimation</l>
					<l>that she can do as much for him in return by</l>
					<l>looking up autographs etc. This evening while the</l>
					<l>Abbé Baruffi with his Norwegian friend Lieblein were</l>
					<l>with us, the Gajanis came in. It seemed a</l>
					<l>pleasant meeting between the Abbé &amp; Gajani, the</l>
					<l>latter reminding the former of many services received</l>
					<l>from him in past years. <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Little</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Lieblein</hi> professes</l>
					<l>to have made interesting discoveries in the Egypt-</l>
					<l>-ian Museum, does not believe in Lepsius’ chronology</l>
					<l>etc</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='57'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Friday, 19th. I should have mentioned Govi’s</l>
					<l>second lecture on light this evening - very in-</l>
					<l>teresting - experiments most successful - theory</l>
					<l>concerning the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>falling</hi> stars, etc. The lecture-</l>
					<l>room was crowded, and a gentleman near Mr M.</l>
					<l>said, in answer to another who was commenting</l>
					<l>on the large number of ladies present, “Ma</l>
					<l>quando queste lezione sono accompangate da</l>
					<l>esperienze capiscono qualche <unclear>coda</unclear>!”</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='58'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Thursday. Feb. 18<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Worked all of us the whole day for the fair.</l>
					<l>In the evening C. went with the countess Colegno and</l>
					<l>Miss Trotti to the V. Emanuel. Preston Powers</l>
					<l>passed the evening with us.</l>
					<l>Friday Feb. 19th</l>
					<l>Gave orders to receive no one and</l>
					<l>worked uninterruptedly in preparing our box for</l>
					<l>N. Y. The only visit it grieved me to miss was</l>
					<l>Madame Rothan’s. Ibbotson &amp; Powers dined with</l>
					<l>us. The former I have not seen before since his</l>
					<l>wedding-day with Julie Powers. He is a very pleasing</l>
					<l>young man &amp; gave us an interesting account of</l>
					<l>his <hi rend='underlined:true;'>iron-works</hi> at Sheffield.</l>
					<l>Sat. Feb. 19<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> [20<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi>]</l>
					<l>We were just in time with our box</l>
					<l>for the messagerie this evening. Miss Arbesser</l>
					<l>came in at half past nine to pass the evening</l>
					<l>just as I was thinking I might safely go to bed</l>
					<l>with my aching head &amp; eyes!</l>
					<l>Sunday Feb. 20<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi>. [21<hi rend='superscript:true;'>st</hi>]</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>Two feet of snow</hi> have fallen since</l>
					<l>yesterday morning. It ceased before noon, but</l>
					<l>not a carriage was astir through the day</l>
					<l>except the Sindic’s - Roca’s. Young Kossuth</l>
					<l>however managed to get to us, and Dr Monnet</l>
					<l>in the evening. Really this winter is quite</l>
					<l>extraordinary.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='59'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Monday February 22.</l>
					<l>Klapka spent an hour with husband</l>
					<l>this morning, talking over European Politics with</l>
					<l>the greatest freedom. His hopes are not high. He says</l>
					<l>the only <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>hope</hi> chance of any <hi rend='underlined:true;'>good</hi> is that Italy will</l>
					<l>make war on Austria <hi rend='underlined:true;'>now</hi>. Otherwise the golden</l>
					<l>opportunity is lost and perhaps forever. Hungary,</l>
					<l>now ready to rise at the least encouragement from</l>
					<l>Italy, will soon be compelled</l>
					<l>by</l>
					<l>the terrible <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>family</hi></l>
					<l>famine now prevailing there to submit to an</l>
					<l>accommodation with Austria. Then Austria will</l>
					<l>carry out the programme agreed upon, as he thinks,</l>
					<l>by herself, Prussia &amp; Russia - viz, rush down upon</l>
					<l>Italy and crush out if possible the spirit of</l>
					<l>nationality and progress, and restore the old</l>
					<l>order of things. This may not be so difficult</l>
					<l>with no Hungary to kindle a backfire &amp; with</l>
					<l>Rome [illegible] clutching at the heart of the new kingdom.</l>
					<l>The French Emperor (with whom he has, as every</l>
					<l>knows frequent interviews) will not, he says,</l>
					<l>aid Italy further than to secure Lombardy to Piedmont</l>
					<l>that is, to protect for her the property he gave</l>
					<l>as purchase money for <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Savoy</hi>. He thinks England</l>
					<l>less likely to interfere at present in favour of Austria</l>
					<l>than she would have been <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>fo</hi> before the Denmark</l>
					<l>invasion - at any rate there is no prospect of a</l>
					<l>more favorable moment and he <hi rend='underlined:true;'>hopes</hi> the Italians</l>
					<l>may seize this, though he is by no means confident</l>
					<l>that they will do so. The first step, he says, is to bring </l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='60'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>about a good understanding between Garibaldi &amp;</l>
					<l>this government – a sine qua non to success in a con-</l>
					<l>flict with Austria. He put Garibaldi where we do</l>
					<l>among the formost rank of heroes, patriots &amp; soldiers.</l>
					<l>“His age does not know him.” The estimation Mr M.</l>
					<l>has long felt for Klapka as a man of great talent</l>
					<l>and noble purpose was not diminished by this interview</l>
					<l>Unlike most agitators (a class I respect generally) he</l>
					<l>is singularly practical as even the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Conservatives</hi></l>
					<l>admit. The weather did not secure me against</l>
					<l>lady-visitors as I hoped it would.</l>
					<l>Tuesday Feb. 23<hi rend='superscript:true;'>d</hi></l>
					<l>My housekeeper informed me last evening</l>
					<l>that <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>there was</hi> a kitchen-feud had arisen which must</l>
					<l>end in the dismissal of the cook’s handmaid. In</l>
					<l>the course of the explanation a circumstance came</l>
					<l>up which diverted me not a little. This woman</l>
					<l>complained of bad treatment at the hands of the cook’s</l>
					<l>wife who, [illegible] she says, is jealous of her, and as</l>
					<l>a proof of this she asserts that Susanne <hi rend='underlined:true;'>forbid</hi></l>
					<l>Carlo to speak</l>
					<l>to</l>
					<l>her and ordered him, whenever she (the</l>
					<l>wife) was not in the kitchen, <hi rend='underlined:true;'>to whistle</hi> in order</l>
					<l>that she might hear him &amp; be sure he was not</l>
					<l>talking! The fact of the almost constant whistling</l>
					<l>was proved, but the positive order could not be</l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>proved</hi> substantiated as Carlo &amp; Susanne could</l>
					<l>not</l>
					<l>be asked</l>
					<l>to testify in so delicate a case!</l>
					<l>Carrie went this morning to ask little Miss Trotti to</l>
					<l>go with her in the evening to the Teatro Regio with her</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='61'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>uncle to take charge of the two. M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Collegno said</l>
					<l>that she should like much to have her go if there</l>
					<l>was to be a matron in the box - otherwise it would</l>
					<l>not be <hi rend='underlined:true;'>well received</hi>! She added very politely that strangers</l>
					<l>always went in the way I had proposed, and this being</l>
					<l>well understood nobody criticized it, but for her niece</l>
					<l>she was sorry to say, it would not do. <hi rend='underlined:true;'>With</hi> all I have</l>
					<l>previously learned of the stupidity of their convenance</l>
					<l>here, I was not prepared for this - that a man of over</l>
					<l>sixty - of Mr Marsh’s character and position - should</l>
					<l>not be a sufficient protection for his own niece and</l>
					<l>a little friend of hers, still a school-girl!</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='62'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Wednesday 24<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>The Countess Gigliucci sat with me through</l>
					<l>the dancing-lesson, which the girls managed to spin out</l>
					<l>to a three-hour one. Almost anyone else would have</l>
					<l>tired me, but she, bright soul, earnest and gay at once,</l>
					<l>never tires. Even the occasional liberties she takes with</l>
					<l>English have something so free and fresh about them</l>
					<l>that they make her <hi rend='underlined:true;'>more</hi> than <hi rend='underlined:true;'>less</hi> agreeable.</l>
					<l>In short everything about her is so perfectly natural,</l>
					<l>so genuine, so hearty, that I constantly ask myself:</l>
					<l>“Is it possible that this woman has passed so many</l>
					<l>years of her life on a stage?’ If it is by their fruits</l>
					<l>that they are to be known, the theatrical education</l>
					<l>would certainly carry off the palm from the conventual one.</l>
					<l>We discussed the Germans pretty thoroughly in their</l>
					<l>present robber-raid into Denmark, and sympathized</l>
					<l>with each other heartily. The position of the princess</l>
					<l>of Wales, the Countess thinks most pitiable. She gives</l>
					<l>her husband credit for very little brains, and says the</l>
					<l>German influence in England will control him</l>
					<l>completely. Of the invitation to the Arch-duke Maximilian</l>
					<l>to be present at the baptism of the son of the Prince</l>
					<l>and princess of Wales, she said - What an insult to</l>
					<l>that young mother! The brother of the very man who</l>
					<l>is eating out the heart of her native land, and threatening</l>
					<l>to drive her father from his Kingdom. She also com-</l>
					<l>-mented with much severity on the course of the</l>
					<l>Princes of Wales and Prussia, two Protestants coming</l>
					<l>to Italy and passing by the chosen King of that</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='63'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>country, hurrying on to Rome to pay their humble</l>
					<l>duty to a “dazed old pope” and to a detested ex-king.</l>
					<l>“I am a Catholic” she added “but I don’t respect a</l>
					<l>member of the Gustav-Adolph-Verein the more for</l>
					<l>going to pay court to this crazy old Pope.”</l>
					<l>Miss Arbesser came after I was in bed, but I</l>
					<l>adopted the fashion of the country for once, and saw</l>
					<l>her in my nightcap. She was quite dismayed when</l>
					<l>I told her that M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> Collegno thought Miss Trotti</l>
					<l>could not go with Carrie under Mr Marsh’s protection,</l>
					<l>‘I must have committed some terrible improprieties,</l>
					<l>but in Vienna where we carry convenance quite</l>
					<l>far enough such an idea would be thought supremely</l>
					<l>ridiculous. The poor little Princess Marguerite said</l>
					<l>this evening with a sigh “I wonder where I shall</l>
					<l>have to go when I am grown - I wish it might</l>
					<l>be to Brazil for there I could amuse myself with</l>
					<l>monkeys and parrots!” Poor child, may you be so</l>
					<l>happy! Something was added by Miss Arbesser</l>
					<l>with “if you should live….” “Live!” said the</l>
					<l>child, “I had rather you wouldn’t speak to me</l>
					<l>about death now - I think enough of that when</l>
					<l>I am alone.” “Alone!” said the astonished gouvernante</l>
					<l>“but you are never alone!” “Oh yes, I am alone</l>
					<l>when I say my prayers, and I am alone when</l>
					<l>I go to sleep - that is, nobody is very near me, and</l>
					<l>nobody speaks to me.”</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='64'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Thursday 25</l>
					<l>The countess Collegno put</l>
					<l>to flight</l>
					<l>my first visitor, &amp;</l>
					<l>the Browns put her to flight in return, much to my</l>
					<l>annoyance as she was interesting me so much by her charming</l>
					<l>conversation. Oh ye Sligos! I did not present the young</l>
					<l>ladies to the Countess Collegno, but knowing their habits of</l>
					<l>making unfavourable comments upon all who come under</l>
					<l>their eye, I took care to say as she passed out - ‘That lady</l>
					<l>I count among my best friends in Turin.” “Ah, who is</l>
					<l>she then?” said the youngest, and on hearing the name</l>
					<l>the eldest exclaimed “Oh, I thought she was like M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi></l>
					<l>Arconati, and M<hi rend='superscript:true;'>me</hi> __, such ugly faces!” “They</l>
					<l>are past the age of being handsome,’ I said, ‘so far as</l>
					<l>mere beauty of outline goes certainly, but the expression</l>
					<l>of both the sisters whom I know is so refined, so be-</l>
					<l>-nevolent, and so intelligent at once, that it would be a</l>
					<l>pleasure to me to look at them, even independently of</l>
					<l>their delightful talk.’ “But they have such odious</l>
					<l>manners!”, said the eldest Miss Brown again. At this</l>
					<l>I expressed the greatest surprise, insisting with a degree</l>
					<l>of spirit that I felt decidedly getting up to the boiling point</l>
					<l>that I found their manners always ladylike, always courteous,</l>
					<l>and in all respects to my taste.’ “Then,” said the</l>
					<l>youngest “perhaps you like stuck-up manners.” As</l>
					<l>the impertinence was now directed against me instead</l>
					<l>of my friends I felt calmer at once. “No, I do not like</l>
					<l>stuck-up manners if I understand what you mean by the</l>
					<l>phrase, and yet I like the manners of the ladies we are</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='65'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>talking of.&apos; Here the youngest Miss Brown seemed to</l>
					<l>think she might have gone too far, and said – “Perhaps</l>
					<l>you don’t visit them in their own house. It is <hi rend='underlined:true;'>there</hi> they</l>
					<l>are <hi rend='underlined:true;'>so</hi> disagreeable. I wonder people ever cross their</l>
					<l>thresh hold twice”. Here I changed the subject so abruptly</l>
					<l>that I intended they should take it as a rebuke and</l>
					<l>think they did. In a moment more we were talking</l>
					<l>of the practice of having reception-days &amp;c. &amp;c. The young</l>
					<l>ladies declaimed with much warmth against this</l>
					<l>practice, and declared that they would no longer pay</l>
					<l>visits on these occasions, as they found that everywhere</l>
					<l>the ladies did nothing but abuse each other - a habit</l>
					<l>which they thought as ill bred as unchristian. Had</l>
					<l>these young ladies been as brainless as their old father</l>
					<l>I should not have been surprised at these expressions</l>
					<l>of condemnation of evil-speaking, even so close upon their</l>
					<l>amiable comments on the Marchesa Arconati and</l>
					<l>her sisters. As it was I could not quite restrain a look</l>
					<l>of astonishment, but they were too much interested in</l>
					<l>their new subject to notice my look or my silence.</l>
					<l>They proceeded to inform me that the Piedmontese ladies</l>
					<l>could not talk anything but slander when they got together</l>
					<l>- that they were themselves so thoroughly shocked at them in</l>
					<l>this respect that they had almost entirely ceased to visit</l>
					<l>them. “Perhaps,’ I said ‘I have seen too little of</l>
					<l>them to be placed on a footing of sufficient familiarity</l>
					<l>to allow them to talk so freely before me, but I must</l>
					<l>say that for myself I have heard very little evil speaking</l>
					<l>from any of them.’ The young ladies went on to assert</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='66'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>that it must be because I had not been to these morning</l>
					<l>receptions - furthermore that nobody could know anything</l>
					<l>about the Turinese without very special opportunities -</l>
					<l>that they were to the last degree untidy in their habits,</l>
					<l>that the ladies neither washed nor dressed except</l>
					<l>when they went out, - that as soon as they returned</l>
					<l>home they put on some vile old rag for a dress</l>
					<l>instead of the fine gown just shown in the street -</l>
					<l>that they sat down to dinner in this way - that their servants</l>
					<l>were on a par with themselves for cleanliness, - that they</l>
					<l>were too mean to light their fires or have the gas</l>
					<l>burning on their staircases or in their drawing rooms</l>
					<l>unless when guests were expected - that they used old</l>
					<l>pewter spoons and forks habitually instead of their silver</l>
					<l>which was put away for some quarterly <hi rend='underlined:true;'>festa</hi>, that as</l>
					<l>soon as the spring came they dismissed all their</l>
					<l>grand servants, &amp; took a housemaid or two into the</l>
					<l>country with them “where they live like disgusting</l>
					<l>pigs as they are.” Anxious lest my amiable visitors</l>
					<l>might reproach themselves after they left if I allowed</l>
					<l>this thing to go on, I here abruptly asked them if they</l>
					<l>had read Renan’s Life of Jesus which had made such</l>
					<l>a noise in Italy. This corner, which was even</l>
					<l>a</l>
					<l>more</l>
					<l>sharp turn than the first threw them somewhat off</l>
					<l>the track, and we managed to let our neighbors</l>
					<l>alone for the rest of the visit. How often we have</l>
					<l>occasion to see the great truth exemplified that <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>the</hi> good</l>
					<l>and <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>the</hi> bad</l>
					<l>qualities</l>
					<l>are always found more or less mingled</l>
					<l>together. These young ladies, who certainly put themselves</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='67'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>this morning in a most unfavourable light, are</l>
					<l>charitable to the poor, are self-denying in performing</l>
					<l>their duties towards them, and I believe really do</l>
					<l>much good in that way. Their snarling, fault-finding</l>
					<l>language about others seems a sort of family habit, and</l>
					<l>I do not think there is real ill-feeling at the bottom, dis-</l>
					<l>-agreeable as it makes them to others. Mr Marsh dined</l>
					<l>with the Elliots, and the Moriondos spent the evening</l>
					<l>with us, and didn’t talk about their neighbors either,</l>
					<l>though they are Turinese, and the lady’s bright face</l>
					<l>was not suffering for want of water. Mr Moriondo told</l>
					<l>us that the phenomenon of red snow had been seen within</l>
					<l>a day or two near Vergato. He is much pleased with the</l>
					<l>various seeds Mr Marsh has given him from Washington,</l>
					<l>and promises to look out well for them next spring.</l>
					<l>Friday 26<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>For the first time in Turin I received a</l>
					<l>lady in my bed-room this morning - the dear old Marchesa</l>
					<l>Arconati, and having done this I could not refuse the</l>
					<l>Countess Gigliucci in the evening though sadly against my</l>
					<l>judgment so far as health is concerned. She was admirably</l>
					<l>entertaining as usual, but I was flushed and tired when</l>
					<l>she left. She gave a picture of Isabella of Spain that</l>
					<l>really made one’s flesh quiver. It was drawn as she</l>
					<l>saw her when she sang at the Court of Madrid. Her</l>
					<l>sketch of Cardinal Wiseman with his bloated person,</l>
					<l>in black cassock lined with red, with red gloves, and</l>
					<l>here and there a red stripe about him, looking more</l>
					<l>like a mountebank that a prelate, and followed by</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='68'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>A visit from Matteucci was lost by Mr Marsh&apos;s</l>
					<l>being at Ruscalla&apos;s Lecture, and my being in</l>
					<l>bed.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='69'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>some thirty quasi-monks and nuns, was one I should</l>
					<l>not have expected from a good Catholic. The girls returned</l>
					<l>from the Lecture on the steam-engine not over edified,</l>
					<l>- the poor young man succeeded in sending off two</l>
					<l>out of his eight female auditors, and nearly half the gentlemen</l>
					<l>before he concluded.</l>
					<l>Saturday 27<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>The Marquis de Cavour died very suddenly</l>
					<l>yesterday, having been in church it is said at twelve o’clock</l>
					<l>and expiring at two - apoplexy it is thought. His son,</l>
					<l>who succeeds to the title is in Paris. The report of</l>
					<l>Dr. Livingstone’s assassination is most likely true,</l>
					<l>though there is some faint hope it may not be so.</l>
					<l>The acceptance of the proposal for a conference made</l>
					<l>by England to Austria and Prussia will probably secure</l>
					<l>the termination of the Northern quarrel; It will be</l>
					<l>done however by forcing Denmark to sacrifice the</l>
					<l>Duchies, for this is what they call “preserving the integrity</l>
					<l>of Denmark”! I was glad Mr Marsh happened to be in</l>
					<l>during Levi’s visit this morning. It is curious to see how</l>
					<l>these poor Italian’s catch at straws. As the chance of a favourable</l>
					<l>opportunity for doing anything this spring diminishes, they are</l>
					<l>beginning to look forward with hope to the moment when</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>we</hi> shall turn on England, and demand reparation for</l>
					<l>the wrongs done <hi rend='underlined:true;'>us</hi>. In this way they flatter themselves</l>
					<l>England may be kept from interfering in behalf of Austria,</l>
					<l>should they try to recover Venice. It would be some consolation</l>
					<l>if England could be made to hear the scorn and the curses</l>
					<l>which are heaped upon her by the liberal party in Europe.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='70'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Levi had just received Dr Sargeant’s pamphlet. He begs</l>
					<l>that we will have something done to make the history of</l>
					<l>our war better known in Italy. I told him I had just</l>
					<l>written to Dr Lieber on the subject. Castillia came</l>
					<l>in this evening just as Mr Gajani and his brother</l>
					<l>went out - dear old saint that he is! His deafness</l>
					<l>afflicts him greatly, but it has not abated his noble</l>
					<l>enthusiasm in every great cause. His affection for our country</l>
					<l>is very touching, He told us, rather an interesting anecdote</l>
					<l>of Manzoni during the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>embargo</hi> days. The poet obtained</l>
					<l>some cotton seeds, nursed the plants tenderly in his own</l>
					<l>garden, and then had the produce manufactured into a</l>
					<l>counterpane for his own bed.</l>
					<l>Sunday 28<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>A rainy day today - Carrie only, going to</l>
					<l>church. We were quite alone through the whole day, and</l>
					<l>had some nice quiet reading. By the way husband is much</l>
					<l>interested in Tomaseo’s Life of Vieusseux, as being</l>
					<l>not only the sketch of the life of a remarkable man,</l>
					<l>but as containing so much of the literary history of</l>
					<l>Italy during this last half century.</l>
					<l>Monday 29<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>The brightest, softest of Spring mornings,</l>
					<l>our birds are screaming with delight. Leone, the nightin-</l>
					<l>-gale being particularly stormy. - Poor fellow, he has lost</l>
					<l>his mate through the carelessness of the housemaid who</l>
					<l>refuses to testify against herself, leaving the face of Bice</l>
					<l>somewhat in the dark. Not feeling strong enough to</l>
					<l>to venture out twice to-day, I chose the evening that I might</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='71'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>hear Matteucci’s lecture. He had an admirable audience</l>
					<l>but he rattled on with such volubility, indicating</l>
					<l>only, not performing, his experiments, that it was very</l>
					<l>difficult to follow him - even the natives complained</l>
					<l>bitterly &amp; to us barbarians it was harder still. Dear good</l>
					<l>Madame Collegno was by me, and was quite in raptures</l>
					<l>about Mme Rothan whom she had met the evening</l>
					<l>before at her sister Arconatis.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='72'/>
		</body>
	</text>
</TEI>
