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				<title type='main'>Volume 4</title>
			</titleStmt>
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				<publisher>tranScriptorium</publisher>
			</publicationStmt>
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				<bibl><publisher>TRP document creator: chris.burns@uvm.edu</publisher></bibl>
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			<pb n='1'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>From</l>
					<l>March 8th 1862</l>
					<l>To</l>
					<l>May 14th 1862</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='2'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l><hi rend='bold:true;'>What Negroes can Do</hi>. -- Mrs. Margaret Stanley,</l>
					<l>widow of the late Bias Stanley, died this week, leav-</l>
					<l>ing her property for benevolent purposes. Her hus-</l>
					<l>band died a few years ago, leaving two houses in</l>
					<l>College street and one in Dwight street, the income</l>
					<l>of the same, after the death of his widow, to be ap-</l>
					<l>plied for the support of the Gospel, and for educa-</l>
					<l>ational purposes among the colored people of New</l>
					<l>Haven. Henry White, John G. North, and Atwater</l>
					<l>Treat are the Trustees to manage and appropriate</l>
					<l>the same. Mr. and Mrs. Stanley were slaves until</l>
					<l>they were forty years of age, and upon obtaining their</l>
					<l>freedom began a life of industry and economy, which</l>
					<l>in the progress of their lives enabled them to obtain</l>
					<l>a good living and to amass a little fortune, exceeding</l>
					<l>$6,000. The were both members of the Temple-</l>
					<l>street Congregational church, and died in the full</l>
					<l>hope of a blessed inheritance above. -- New Haven</l>
					<l>Journal</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='3'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Baron Ricasoli left office (writes our Turin</l>
					<l>correspondent) precisely as Sergeant Bothwell</l>
					<l>departed this life -- &quot;always astride his fore-</l>
					<l>fathers.&quot; The King spoke with great benig-</l>
					<l>nity at parting, and shook hands with him,</l>
					<l>saying that &quot;he was sure they would always</l>
					<l>be friends.&quot; &quot;My friendship for your Ma-</l>
					<l>jesty,&quot; answered the Medieval Baron, &quot;will</l>
					<l>always increase in proportion to your exer-</l>
					<l>tions for the accomplishment of the great</l>
					<l>Italian redemption.&quot; -- (Times.)</l>
					<l>THE &quot;SATURDAY REVIEW&quot; AND ITS CONTRIBUTORS.</l>
					<l>The chief of the political department -- the gentle-</l>
					<l>man who does the &quot;heavy business&quot; on the South-</l>
					<l>ampton-street stage -- is Mr. G. S. Venables of Mitre</l>
					<l>court. Temple, and then follow the lesser Joves, such</l>
					<l>as Mr. Joseph Arnold, Rev. Charles Kingslake, Mr. G.</l>
					<l>H. Lewes, Mr. Newmarch, (secretary of the Globe</l>
					<l>Assurance office,) Mr. Main, 9reader at the Middle</l>
					<l>Temple,) Professors Owen and Playfair, Mr. Goldwin</l>
					<l>Smith, Mr. Beresford Hope, (the proprietor of the</l>
					<l>journal,) Rev. W. Scott of Christ&apos;s church, Hoxton,</l>
					<l>M. J. Pitt Taylor, (the County Court Judge,) Mr. W.</l>
					<l>B. Donne, Mr. Jones Rymer, Mr. C.J. Sanders, Lord</l>
					<l>Robert Clinton,, (very casual,) Mr. Grant Duff, (do.,)</l>
					<l>Mr. E. A. Freeman, and Mr. Frazer, late Paris cor-</l>
					<l>respondent of a well-known and once powerful jour-</l>
					<l>nal. Among the other contributors deep in the arcana</l>
					<l>of the zymotic process constantly going on in South-</l>
					<l>ampton-street are the following: Mrs. Bennet, (sister</l>
					<l>of our most sagacious statesman,) Miss Boyce, Lady</l>
					<l>Hanover, (formerly Lany Benjamin Hall,) the com-</l>
					<l>piler of the journal and correspondence of Mrs. Delany,</l>
					<l>the wife of the Dean of Down; Miss Jane Williams,</l>
					<l>(another gifted native of the Palatine,) Miss C. Ogle</l>
					<l>of Newcastle, Mr. F. Galton, Mr. A. Grant, Mr. W. V.</l>
					<l>Harcourt, Mr. J. M. Hayman, Mr. G. W. Hemming,</l>
					<l>Mr. I. C. Mansfield, Mr. Stephens, and a few others off</l>
					<l>minor note. The majority of the male contributors</l>
					<l>are barristers, of whom perhaps it may be said that</l>
					<l>their friends gave them nothing to do, and they</l>
					<l>did it!</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l></l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='4'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Sat. March 8<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi>, 1862</l>
					<l>to-day I received a large number of visitors, but as</l>
					<l>they were nearly all persons I had seen at least once before</l>
					<l>it was a less fatiguing day for me than usual. The queenly St. Ger- </l>
					<l>mano charmed me as usual. A curious conversation took place</l>
					<l>between Mons. de Lima &amp; the Marchesa D&apos;Arvillars on the subject</l>
					<l>of suicide - apropos of the sad fate of an accomplished Englishwoman.</l>
					<l>The Countess d&apos;Adda, though looking so feeble, was full of life &amp;</l>
					<l>gaiety. The Abbé Baruffi gave a funny account of old Baron</l>
					<l>Plana&apos;s violent denunciation of the new ministry in a caffé</l>
					<l>yesterday. &quot;Baron <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Plana</hi>, with his reputation &amp; thirty thousand</l>
					<l>a year may do this, if he likes; but a poor priest like me</l>
					<l>must be more prudent, and, finding I could not restrain him,</l>
					<l>I persuaded him to leave the caffé with me.&quot;</l>
					<l>Sunday - 9<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> March</l>
					<l>I should have mentioned among my visitors</l>
					<l>yesterday Sam. Cooper &amp; wife from America. They give</l>
					<l>glowing accounts of the spirit shown at Rome - but I</l>
					<l>must confess the Italian horizon does not look very fair</l>
					<l>to me just now. Some of the prefects of the leading</l>
					<l>cities <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>for</hi> have already resigned since Ratazzi came in</l>
					<l>and more are likely to do so. Count d&apos;Adda, I am sorry</l>
					<l>to say, is among the first. - We had a charming drive to-day,</l>
					<l>first a turn in the Via Pó, where there was a gala corso,</l>
					<l>and then elsewhere - the weather most delightful.</l>
					<l>The Marchesa Doria was brilliant in equipage &amp; toilette</l>
					<l>so were many others.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='5'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Monday March 10<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> -</l>
					<l>We stole an hour for</l>
					<l>another</l>
					<l>drive today - everything looks so bright</l>
					<l>and springlike. Good news continues to come in from America. Here</l>
					<l>the clouds do not disperse. The meeting at Genoa yesterday excites</l>
					<l>much uneasiness. (For account see newspapers preserved.) Garibaldi has</l>
					<l>boldly endorsed our friend Haug at any rate.</l>
					<l>Tuesday 11.</l>
					<l>Our whole time, now is taken up with the preparation</l>
					<l>of Mr Marsh&apos;s second Series of Lectures, for the press. I am</l>
					<l>almost afraid Mr Marsh cannot hold out to work another</l>
					<l>month in this way. I manage<hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>d</hi> to get him out though, for an</l>
					<l>hour or two every day either for walk or drive. Today we drove</l>
					<l>to the cemetery - a strange quaint looking place to which I intend</l>
					<l>to go some day and make notes for an hour. The grave of Silvio</l>
					<l>Pellico awakened some very touching memories. As we only went</l>
					<l>into the old cemetery we did not see the resting place of the</l>
					<l>lamented Cavour.</l>
					<l>Wednesday 12<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi>.</l>
					<l>Today we drove to Moncalieri. The palace is large</l>
					<l>and stands almost on the extremity of the Collina which here</l>
					<l>sinks abruptly into the plain. The village is nestled at the</l>
					<l>foot of the palace and I longed to get out for a stroll through</l>
					<l>its odd looking little streets.</l>
					<l>Thursday 13<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> - At last we have a rainy day - a very</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='6'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Vendredi</l>
					<l>My dear Mrs. Marsh</l>
					<l>Having been particularly</l>
					<l>pleased to hear you take</l>
					<l>interest in German litterature, I</l>
					<l>venture to send you an <hi rend='underlined:true;'>historical</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>romance</hi> which is considered one</l>
					<l>of the best written at present.</l>
					<l>The author is a Lady, the wife</l>
					<l>of the but shortly deceased historian</l>
					<l>&quot;Theodor Mundt.&quot; The description</l>
					<l>of the Austrian Court, a century</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>[*Lowenthal Notes*]</l>
					<l></l>
					<l></l>
					<l></l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='7'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>3</l>
					<l></l>
					<l>ago could perfectly be applied</l>
					<l>to the Italian one, I am living</l>
					<l>at; the intrigues of the Jesuits</l>
					<l>which gave so much pain to</l>
					<l>poor Emperor Joseph and inflicted</l>
					<l>so many trials on him are</l>
					<l>extremely well described and <hi rend='underlined:true;'>his</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>torical</hi>. I think it will rather</l>
					<l>interest you. Many thanks, for</l>
					<l>the book of poetry, I merely read</l>
					<l>a few lines yet, and like it very</l>
					<l>much. I will gladly avail myself</l>
					<l>of your permission to call on you</l>
					<l>any day, your charming conversation</l>
					<l>and most superior intellect and</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='8'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>gentle one certainly - but still it does rain. We were able to</l>
					<l>do a good long day&apos;s work on the Lectures.</l>
					<l>Friday 14<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi>, March</l>
					<l>This morning I received from Miss Arbesser the note</l>
					<l>on the preceding page - I am amazed at the imprudence</l>
					<l>of this young person, and should like to caution her a</l>
					<l>little, if I knew how to do so without seeming to play</l>
					<l>the mentor, and so perhaps drive her to trust some one</l>
					<l>who might be cruel enough to betray her.</l>
					<l>Mr Marsh dined to-day with Ratazzi in company</l>
					<l>with the other Cabinet Ministers and the Dip. Corps.</l>
					<l>It is the fête of the king &amp; prince Humbert.</l>
					<l>American news of the best -</l>
					<l>Saturday 15</l>
					<l>Visitors few but all acquaintances, with many</l>
					<l>of whom I begin to feel myself quite familiar. To my</l>
					<l>great satisfaction General Menabrea, by repeating the</l>
					<l>remark he made to me some weeks since at the Opera,</l>
					<l>gave me an oportunity to say a few words on the other</l>
					<l>side of the question. The graces in women and a devotion</l>
					<l>to her family duties were all that were required to her perfection.</l>
					<l>&quot;But,&quot; I said, &quot;what is there left for us if nature has not gifted</l>
					<l>us with graces, if we have no family to which to devote</l>
					<l>ourselves or if ill health deprives us for long years of all</l>
					<l>social enjoyments and of the strength necessary to attend</l>
					<l>to household matters? with thousands of women one or</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='9'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>more of the suppositions are stern facts. You would deny</l>
					<l>us all those mental rescources with which wide knowl-</l>
					<l>edge furnishes you - you would leave us to count our beads</l>
					<l>under such circumstances,  but you would leave us nothing</l>
					<l>else.&quot; I then told him that I thought nature had made</l>
					<l>wide differences between men and women and that it</l>
					<l>should be [illegible] the object of education to bring them nearer</l>
					<l>together rather than to increase these differences, and</l>
					<l>finished my speech by a quotation from St. <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>Cyril&apos;s</hi></l>
					<l>Clement&apos;s</l>
					<l>advice</l>
					<l>to his clergy &quot;teach your men to be modest, your women</l>
					<l>to be brave. The General seemed much amused and</l>
					<l>quite inclined to pursue the discussion, but we were inter-</l>
					<l>rupted by the coming in of a new set of visitors.</l>
					<l>Mr de Bunsen gave me some curious details of his Turinese</l>
					<l>experiences. Nobody quite dared to talk politics, but it seems</l>
					<l>to be generally understood that the disaffected prefects are</l>
					<l>all to come back.</l>
					<l>Sunday 16<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> March</l>
					<l>Having a bad headache all day I was</l>
					<l>not able to see Count <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Sauli</hi> who is one of the</l>
					<l>literary antiquities of Turin, and who kissed my</l>
					<l>hand most gallantly at the D&apos;Adda&apos;s the other</l>
					<l>evening. Mr Marsh drew him out a little on the</l>
					<l>subject of politics knowing that he was considered a</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>codino</hi>. The old man said he had a dread of</l>
					<l>revolutions - a natural feeling for any one, but more</l>
					<l>especially for one of his age - but when he touched</l>
					<l>upon the Papacy he spoke in no measured terms of</l>
					<l>its abuses - and of Guizot&apos;s late defence of the</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='10'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>th</hi> temporal power of the Pope - he said, &quot;C&apos;est le</l>
					<l>scandale de notre temps.&quot;</l>
					<l>Monday, 17<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Madame de Lima brought her two lovely boys</l>
					<l>to us this morning - the one 14 - the other 5 years old.</l>
					<l>The oldest speaks five languages fluently - not to name</l>
					<l>the Piedmontese patois which he uses like a native.</l>
					<l>The little fellow, who was born in England, prides himself on</l>
					<l>being an <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Englishman</hi>.</l>
					<l>Tuesday 18<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> March</l>
					<l>No visitors to-day but little Emilia de Lima -</l>
					<l>or <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Tota</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>de</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Lima</hi> as she directed Alexander to announce</l>
					<l>her - a most bright, interesting child of eleven.</l>
					<l>Wednesday, 19<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Mr Powers came in to announce the arrival</l>
					<l>of himself, wife &amp; daughter with his son-in-law that is to be</l>
					<l>to-morrow. We were delighted to see him - noble, honest</l>
					<l>soul that he is. I never <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>see</hi></l>
					<l>talk with</l>
					<l>him without feeling that</l>
					<l>circumstances only have prevented him from doing far greater</l>
					<l>things than he has done - I might say greater than any man</l>
					<l>of his age has done in his <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>profession</hi> branch of art.</l>
					<l>Thursday March 20<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>The bridal party came to us as soon as the ceremony</l>
					<l>was over at the British Legation. Lulie looked as sweet</l>
					<l>and calm as possible, the bridegroom, Mr Ibbotson, was</l>
					<l>less composed, though we liked his appearance extremely, and</l>
					<l>the parents&apos; hearts are very full. Every thing went off as well</l>
					<l>as could be wished, and after a glass of wine the young people</l>
					<l>set <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>of</hi> out for Milan - the father &amp; mother remained to <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>dine</hi></l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='11'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>pass the day &amp; dine with us. We had a &apos;good long day curse&apos; at the Secessionists.</l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>Thursday</hi> Friday 21<hi rend='superscript:true;'>st </hi>March</l>
					<l>Mr &amp; Mrs Powers left for home this morning </l>
					<l>in a heavy rain. Strange that out of the five days of rain in eleven</l>
					<l>months they should have had three</l>
					<l>of them</l>
					<l>in which to marry their daughter &amp;</l>
					<l>see Turin.</l>
					<l>Sat. 22<hi rend='superscript:true;'>nd</hi> Marsh [March]</l>
					<l>Mr Dillon was my first visitor - Madame</l>
					<l>Benedetti my second. I was very glad to see the latter</l>
					<l>as she has never been in before since the disagreeable</l>
					<l>rencontre with the Doria. She was however, amiable and graceful</l>
					<l>as ever, and seems incapable of petty resentments, though not</l>
					<l>lacking in the truest dignity. It was settled between us that she</l>
					<l>should not make her visits to me on saturday hereafter.</l>
					<l>The beautiful Marchesa Rorà was certainly the particular</l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>of</hi> star of this day&apos;s reunion, but my plain friend, the</l>
					<l>Contessa Salino made herself scarcely less agreeable. Gen. Haug</l>
					<l>excited some curiosity, and after he left, Baron Hochschild</l>
					<l>enquired who he was. On my explaining, he broke out</l>
					<l>with some [illegible] warmth against Garibaldians in</l>
					<l>general, though he admitted that this particular speciman</l>
					<l>was an interesting one. He then spoke of the hero himself,</l>
					<l>said he <hi rend='underlined:true;'>was</hi> a hero, and an honest man besides, but that</l>
					<l>he lacked <hi rend='underlined:true;'>common</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>sense</hi>. I ventured to say that I thought</l>
					<l>the events of the last three years showed some faint gleams of</l>
					<l>common sense in this man - not only, too, what had been done</l>
					<l>but what had been <hi rend='underlined:true;'>forborne</hi>. &quot;But he is doing immense mischief</l>
					<l>now,&quot; was his reply. I confessed I did not know what he was</l>
					<l>doing, and therefore could not dispute the assertion. The</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='12'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Baron then added, &quot;Garibaldi is a true hero &amp; a patriot, and</l>
					<l>history will place him higher as the regenerator of Italy</l>
					<l>than king or Cavour - but I tell you frankly that, were</l>
					<l>I dictator here and convinced that Garibaldi intended to get</l>
					<l>the country into a war, I would have him hanged to-</l>
					<l>morrow! I know I should be eternally infamous for that deed</l>
					<l>but I should save Italy by it!&quot; Some animated discussion</l>
					<l>followed between us, Count de Thomar taking part, but diplomatic</l>
					<l>caution was a heavy drag-chain on my woman&apos;s wit. The dear</l>
					<l>old Abbé brought in his unfailing contribution - an interesting</l>
					<l>anecdote. I told him we went to the cemetery the other day, and</l>
					<l>saw the grave of Silvio Pellico. &quot;Ah,&quot; said he, &quot;it is painful to</l>
					<l>see that the Countess __ made his grave with those of</l>
					<l>her family servants.&quot; I could not believe I had heard aright.</l>
					<l>&quot;Yes,&quot; said he, &quot;Silvio Pellico was a tutor in her family, and when</l>
					<l>he died she never dreamed of laying him in the family vault</l>
					<l>but made his bed with those of her other servants.&quot; So a</l>
					<l>descendant of the great Colbert treats the ashes of Silvio Pellico!</l>
					<l>Who would not rather rest with Egypt&apos;s crocodiles than be</l>
					<l>placed in a vault where the dust of this same Countess</l>
					<l>must some day be brought.</l>
					<l>This evening we went to our theatre - now occupied by a</l>
					<l>Piedmontese company. We were surprised to find that we could</l>
					<l>follow the play tolerably well - and were much pleased with</l>
					<l>the respectable character of the performance. There was nothing, so</l>
					<l>far as we could judge, of the coarseness of the French plays we had</l>
					<l>heard in the early winter, and the piece did not seem<hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>ed</hi> intended to prove</l>
					<l>the hollowness of [illegible] marriage-vows - the moral of most of the plays</l>
					<l>I have seen this winter</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='13'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Sunday 23<hi rend='superscript:true;'>rd </hi>March,</l>
					<l>A quiet day at home after morning service,</l>
					<l>except a short drive toward<hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>s</hi> Moncalieri. The air was perfumed</l>
					<l>with violets and every man, woman and child we met had</l>
					<l>a knot of these sweet flowers.</l>
					<l>Monday 24 -</l>
					<l>Today we had a long drive taking Mr Artoni,</l>
					<l>The hillsides towards Superga are literally covered with</l>
					<l>wild flowers - primroses anemones and all the common</l>
					<l>wild blossoms of spring. Nearer the river banks are thousands</l>
					<l>of violets. The willows are already quite green, the almonds</l>
					<l>have been in blossom for ten days, and many other trees</l>
					<l>and shrubs are fast putting out leaves. General Haug</l>
					<l>came to take leave, though he expects to return to Turin after</l>
					<l>a short visit to Scleswick [Schleswig] Holstein. He is certainly an enigma.</l>
					<l>Tuesday 25</l>
					<l>After a very hard mornings work I persuaded</l>
					<l>Mr Marsh to drive down to the Botanical Garden by the</l>
					<l>Valentino Palace. There are many curious trees and shrubs and</l>
					<l>flowers here and it will no doubt be much enlarged.</l>
					<l>Wednesday 26. Carutti came in this morning to say</l>
					<l>goodbye before going to his post at the Hague. He is a man</l>
					<l>of ability and honest enough to be the secretary of Ricasoli,</l>
					<l>which is saying all that could be said of a man in that</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='14'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>direction. We regret him profoundly. - I should have</l>
					<l>mentioned Mr Marsh&apos;s interview with Ratazzi yesterday.</l>
					<l>His new Excellency was very gracious and expressed the same</l>
					<l>sympathy in the success of the North that every Italian</l>
					<l>does who speaks of our government. The unanimous opinion</l>
					<l>of all <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>p</hi> Italian politicians with whom we talk is that the</l>
					<l>new Ministry here must go down, and that speedily. The</l>
					<l>triumphal of Garibaldi terrifies the timid, makes the</l>
					<l>calmer patriots look grave and somewhat anxious, but</l>
					<l>it fills the sanguine with fresh hopes. There is the</l>
					<l>same striking unanimity of opinion with regard to</l>
					<l>Garibaldi&apos;s greatness of heart and purity of purpose which</l>
					<l>I have so often noticed in reference to Ricasoli. Both these men</l>
					<l>are violently opposed in their political views, but their worst</l>
					<l>enemy dares not impeach their motives.</l>
					<l>Thursday 27</l>
					<l>Another rainy day. Hard work over manuscripts</l>
					<l>is the duty of the day, and arranging the quantities of</l>
					<l>wild flowers gathered yesterday by Carrie and Giachino</l>
					<l>serve for the amusement. For myself this is my second</l>
					<l>days penance for walking through the Valentino conservatory</l>
					<l>Tuesday, and if I get off with another week I shall be thankful.</l>
					<l>Friday 28<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Still in bed and only able to hear, not</l>
					<l>see,</l>
					<l>the Ms.</l>
					<l>before it goes to press. More home news, but I cannot write of these.</l>
					<l>Sat. 29<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>This post brings Mr Dillon&apos;s recall to our great</l>
					<l>relief. Without the least personal ill will towards him, we have</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='15'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>found him in all respects a clog on the legation. Hostile alike</l>
					<l>to this government and our own, and perfectly unreserved in</l>
					<l>his condemnation of the latter, Mr Marsh has never felt that</l>
					<l>he could trust him with any of the business of the Legation.</l>
					<l>The only thing he has done in this way since we came has</l>
					<l>been to copy <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>one</hi>, possibly two or three, papers, the first</l>
					<l>month after our arrival. Since then he has been trusted</l>
					<l>with nothing. He is evidently most unfortunately made</l>
					<l>up - irritable &amp; suspicious in his temper and always</l>
					<l>complaining that life has nothing to offer worth</l>
					<l>the trouble of living for - I am heartily sorry for him</l>
					<l>but it is a case where we at least can be of little</l>
					<l>service. Mr Marsh says: &quot;How could I - an American-</l>
					<l>Puritan-Liberal-Union-Republican - be expected to go</l>
					<l>on with an Irish-Papist-Bourbon-Secession-Democrat?&quot;</l>
					<l>Truly it would seem difficult.</l>
					<l>Sunday 30<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th </hi>Marsh [March]</l>
					<l>A dull day without, but we had rest and</l>
					<l>quiet within. Our news from America continues most</l>
					<l>encouraging. Italian affairs not clearing up.</l>
					<l>Monday 31<hi rend='superscript:true;'>st</hi>,</l>
					<l>Raining still, and we find the freedom from</l>
					<l>visitors the greatest relief now that we are so hurried.</l>
					<l>Manuscript - manuscript every where, and this morning</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>proof</hi> to read beside -</l>
					<l>Tuesday, April 1<hi rend='superscript:true;'>st</hi> -</l>
					<l>How did the unhappy book-makers of former</l>
					<l>ages get on, I wonder, when there was no such thing as <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Patent Paste</hi>!</l>
					<l>Why it is the very salvation of us drudges of the present day.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='16'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Wednesday April 2<hi rend='superscript:true;'>nd</hi></l>
					<l>Thanks to this continued gentle rain the work prospers -</l>
					<l>another week we hope will see it all on its way to the printer.</l>
					<l>Mr Marsh went to the Convegno dei Deputati this evening just by</l>
					<l>way of keeping up a thread of connection with the outward world</l>
					<l>which we have well nigh lost sight of. Every body congratulates</l>
					<l>on the improved aspect of our political affairs, Mr. Tourte</l>
					<l>is especially jubilant as the prosperity of Republics is very dear</l>
					<l>to him. -</l>
					<l>Thursday 3<hi rend='superscript:true;'>d</hi> April</l>
					<l>Still, water, water every where! and we</l>
					<l>work &amp; are thankful. The Abbé came in this evening to</l>
					<l>announce Lesseps for to-morrow. We shall have news of the</l>
					<l>canal I suppose - that is, if there is any thing he thinks</l>
					<l>worth while to communicate.</l>
					<l>Friday 4<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th </hi>April</l>
					<l>A glorious sun this morning, and the</l>
					<l>partial</l>
					<l>change</l>
					<l>of occupation it will bring does not come amiss, for Mr Marsh</l>
					<l>is quite worn out with his constant writing, and Carrie &amp; I are</l>
					<l>both rather knocked up with reading. I shall take my first</l>
					<l>drive, since the unlucky visit to the botanical garden. -</l>
					<l>Eve. The drive was a success - &amp; Mrs Stanley &amp; I discussed</l>
					<l>American politics without thunder - though I was conscious</l>
					<l>of an emission of a little heat-lightning now &amp; then. These</l>
					<l>English are certainly the most obtuse tribe now existing. For</l>
					<l>all practical purposes they might as well be stone-deaf -</l>
					<l>Saturday, 5<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> April -</l>
					<l>The Pomposa came in with an exquisite young</l>
					<l>creature - the Countess Rosponi - just as poor Mad. Cappellini</l>
					<l>had taken her seat. The high-minded Marchesa was careful</l>
					<l>to show her appreciation of my less aristocratic visitor,</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='17'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>My Dear Friend Marsh</l>
					<l>My wife was quite sea sick on</l>
					<l>the vessel from Genoa to Leghorn, and</l>
					<l>has hardly yet recovered. Her head still</l>
					<l>swims when she stoops - and I have been</l>
					<l>very busy modelling a portrait bust by</l>
					<l>day and writing in the evening. I have had</l>
					<l>business letters to attend to. Still one or</l>
					<l>the other of us ought to have written you</l>
					<l>a word at least on our return. I intended</l>
					<l>to do so - but put it off until I am</l>
					<l>really ashamed.</l>
					<l>I was really in earnest about the bust</l>
					<l>to be done of Mrs Marsh and shall expect</l>
					<l>her here ere long - but mind, when I ask</l>
					<l>any one to sit to me, m<hi rend='underlined:true;'>y</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>own</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>labour is</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>gratis</hi> - The model in plaster will there-</l>
					<l>fore be yours - After that, if you should</l>
					<l>desire to have it in marble you must</l>
					<l>pay for the material - and the actual cost</l>
					<l>of execution - a sum somewhere within</l>
					<l>two hundred dollars -</l>
					<l>I know your generous nature too well to</l>
					<l>suppose that you will be quite satisfied</l>
					<l>with this arrangement, but my dander is</l>
					<l>very touchy and will rise if you refuse</l>
					<l>to gratify this little bit of <unclear>??</unclear> selfish-</l>
					<l>-ness on my part -</l>
					<l>Tell Mrs Marsh to have no fears about</l>
					<l>the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>lateness</hi> of this work. And if her face has</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='18'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>been touched by the hand of time, that hand</l>
					<l>has <hi rend='underlined:true;'>given</hi> more than it has taken, and her</l>
					<l>Pose presents an example </l>
					<l>of</l>
					<l>wear, which more</l>
					<l>and more reveals the &quot;Royal metal&quot; -</l>
					<l>I would not take an hour from the age</l>
					<l>of my wife&apos;s bust, for whatever lines there</l>
					<l>may be upon it, though unintelligble to the</l>
					<l>understanding - are all histories to the heart.</l>
					<l>I <hi rend='underlined:true;'>feel</hi> what they mean and had they been</l>
					<l>left out, then the story of her life would</l>
					<l>have closed where they began.</l>
					<l>The infant is not lost in the good child,</l>
					<l>and the good child is not lost in the</l>
					<l>adult but continued, and serene old age</l>
					<l>holds all, and expresses them too - if we</l>
					<l>could read the book of life written upon</l>
					<l>every old face -</l>
					<l>The young &quot;Proserpine&quot; stands by the side of</l>
					<l>my wife&apos;s bust, in my studio, and between</l>
					<l>them, there is the marked difference of 18</l>
					<l>and 46 years - and yet there are many</l>
					<l>visitors, who without knowing the portrait</l>
					<l>or any thing of the original, seem more</l>
					<l>pleased with it than with the other -</l>
					<l>Both have a story to tell - one is short and</l>
					<l>sweet. The other long and congenial to the</l>
					<l>beholder. The one is &quot;Story ideal&quot; - the other</l>
					<l>&quot;alive and real&quot; There is and always must</l>
					<l>be this difference twixt ideal heads by man</l>
					<l>and faithful portraits, the first are from</l>
					<l>finite hands - the second  - are from the</l>
					<l>Infinite - The one is general without</l>
					<l>particulars- the other is general with</l>
					<l>every particular -</l>
					<l>But I have not time to write a <hi rend='underlined:true;'>lecture</hi></l>
					<l>We will talk about these matters during</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='19'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Mrs Marshs sittings -</l>
					<l>The news from home - upon the whole - is</l>
					<l>most encouraging - It looks like a <hi rend='underlined:true;'>cave in</hi></l>
					<l>at the South - and there must be a cave</l>
					<l>in - It is not in human nature - as we</l>
					<l>know it from history - for a people with</l>
					<l>-out religious fanaticism - a strong cause - or</l>
					<l>Some great material interest - to stand</l>
					<l>out against such odds, as are now bear-</l>
					<l>-ing upon the South - I do not go into</l>
					<l>a consideration of the bravado of the Southern</l>
					<l>Leaders - that is all stuff - the people, who</l>
					<l>have thus far followed them, and have been</l>
					<l>thus far deceived and duped, will follow</l>
					<l>no longer, but soon turn upon their leaders,</l>
					<l>and tear them to pieces if resisted - It al-</l>
					<l>-ways was so, and often when the leaders were</l>
					<l>right, but unsuccessful - To suppose that</l>
					<l>the ignorant masses of the South are to</l>
					<l>afford an unprecedented example of firmness,</l>
					<l>in the present circumstances, is to suppose</l>
					<l>a miracle -</l>
					<l>Pray write to me soon as you con-</l>
					<l>veniently can.</l>
					<l>and with our united regards,</l>
					<l>believe me ever yours -</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>Hiram Powers.</hi></l>
					<l>Florence</l>
					<l>April 3<hi rend='superscript:true;'>d</hi> 1862</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='20'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>and I was equally careful that my countrywoman should not</l>
					<l>feel herself rudely treated at least by me. I find my mantle</l>
					<l>of charity [illegible] likely to prove somewhat scant for the most</l>
					<l>extraordinary dimensions of this grande dame, and the prospect</l>
					<l>now is <hi rend='underlined:true;'>mutual</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>contempt</hi>, if not open hostility on her part.</l>
					<l>It is quite certain we don&apos;t <hi rend='underlined:true;'>sympathise</hi> to use the word of the day.</l>
					<l>It was most gratifying to receive the congratulations of Baron</l>
					<l>Poerio &amp; Madame Peruzzi on the successes of our Gov. I had no</l>
					<l>idea that there was so much fire left in the former. He spoke at first</l>
					<l>with much feeling of our victories over the rebels, but when he</l>
					<l>touched upon the project of the European Powers to put <hi rend='underlined:true;'>a Hapsburg</hi></l>
					<l>on a throne in the West, his eyes seemed literally to blaze. &apos;Thank</l>
					<l>&quot;God,&quot; said he, &quot;you were in time to put a stop to <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>put a stop</hi> such</l>
					<l>an infamous scheme!&quot; Madame Peruzzi was not less warm - &quot;It was</l>
					<l>a plan to fix a base of operations against your Republic - or at least</l>
					<l>to hem you in and hold you in check!&quot; Garibaldi again</l>
					<l>came up for discussion when unluckily he had no friend by to defend</l>
					<l>him. His interview with the poet Manzoni is a sore subject with</l>
					<l>the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>codini</hi> who have long insisted that the latter was repenting</l>
					<l>in dust &amp; ashes of his <hi rend='underlined:true;'>liberalism</hi>.</l>
					<l>Sunday April 6,</l>
					<l>I took Mrs Stanley and Mrs Codrington to</l>
					<l>Moncalieri today. The air was delicious but the mountains</l>
					<l>were mostly covered. Mrs Stanley gave a pleasant ac-</l>
					<l>count of her interview the other day</l>
					<l>with Garibaldi.</l>
					<l>On taking leave</l>
					<l>of him, she said, &quot;I am going to see another valued</l>
					<l>friend.&quot; &quot;May I know whom?&quot; said the General. &quot;Baron Plana.&quot;</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='21'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>&quot;Then you are a privileged woman if you can call that</l>
					<l>great man <hi rend='underlined:true;'>friend</hi>.&quot;</l>
					<l>Monday 7<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi>.</l>
					<l>We carried off the reluctant Minister from</l>
					<l>his writing table to the green fields, the hunting grounds</l>
					<l>and the handsome palace of Stupenigi. I have not been</l>
					<l>there before, and can now well understand why the great </l>
					<l>Bonaparte liked to live there. We were scarcely out of</l>
					<l>town and fairly in the beautiful avenue that leads</l>
					<l>to it, before the sweet violets the daisies and other children</l>
					<l>of the spring looked out upon us most fascinatingly from</l>
					<l>the green banks. Gaetano would stop to gather them though</l>
					<l>the thunder was rattling over our heads, and Mr Marsh</l>
					<l>took occasion to make the threatening rain an additional</l>
					<l>argument against picking flowers which he always regards</l>
					<l>in the light of a crime. I tried to console his wounded</l>
					<l>sensibilities by assuring him that though their lives might</l>
					<l>be the shorter they would be the broader for their travels;</l>
					<l>and that perhaps a sight of Turin and the Casa d&apos;Angennes</l>
					<l>and a portrait of Carlo Felice would make ample amends</l>
					<l>for other losses. On the whole we enjoyed the drive immensely.</l>
					<l>I cannot say that I find myself shocked - as most</l>
					<l>Americans are - to see the contadine at work in the fields.</l>
					<l>The poor, of both sexes, must toil, and to do so in heaven&apos;s</l>
					<l>open air and sunshine seems to me a happier lot than con-</l>
					<l>finement in the factory or the cellar kitchen. One strong</l>
					<l>healthy looking woman who was planting in her garden,</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='22'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>particularly attracted my notice - I will not say my</l>
					<l>envy, though if I must choose between such a life as</l>
					<l>hers and that of the haughty Pomposa of Turin I should</l>
					<l>certainly decide in favor of the former.</l>
					<l>April Tuesday 8<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>We made an abortive attempt to get into</l>
					<l>the country again today - a smart shower overtaking us</l>
					<l>before we could get out of town. Mr Marsh after writing from</l>
					<l>half past four A.M. till the same hour P.M. was attacked</l>
					<l>with cramp which fortunately was soon relieved by domestic</l>
					<l>remedies as housewives express themselves. I sincerely trust</l>
					<l>he may hold out for the few days more required to finish</l>
					<l>the lectures, but it distresses me beyond measure to see him</l>
					<l>driven at high pressure in this way.</l>
					<l>Wednesday April 9<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>villa, a ch</hi> To-day we went to look at the Franchetti</l>
					<l>Villa,</l>
					<l>a charming place only a few rods from the bridge. But, though</l>
					<l>the distance is nothing, the ascent is steep and Mr Marsh thinks</l>
					<l>on that account it would not do for winter, as friends would</l>
					<l>not like to come to us evenings.</l>
					<l>Thursday April 10<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Took Miss Roberts to Stupinigi, but</l>
					<l>found the violets nearly gone - Mr Marsh drudged all</l>
					<l>day at home.</l>
					<l>Friday, April 11<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>We took a short drive with Mrs Stanley - and</l>
					<l>with this exception worked violently all day.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='23'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Sat - April 12<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Mr Marsh was at his writing-table before 1/2 past 4 this morning and C.</l>
					<l>was not <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>beh</hi> long behind him. I was up an hour earlier than usual myself -</l>
					<l>and all this in a sort of desperate hope of getting of the last pages</l>
					<l>of the Ms. to-day - - I watched the clouds and prayed for rain</l>
					<l>to keep off visitors - the rain came, but alas the visitors too,</l>
					<l>and 60 pages will have to lie over till monday. Carrie has</l>
					<l>copied nearly ten thousand words in the last two days, but all</l>
					<l>won&apos;t do - the work will run over into next week.</l>
					<l>In spite of thunder &amp; rain I had some dozen visitors all</l>
					<l>pleasant enough, but none very brilliant or exciting. I</l>
					<l>grow very tired, sometimes, of the everlasting sameness of this</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>high</hi> society, - but what amazes me most of all is to see sensible</l>
					<l>men otherwise, taking the liveliest interest,</l>
					<l>or pretending to do so,</l>
					<l>in trivialities beneath a</l>
					<l>child. Rustem Bey, speaking of going to Naples with the king, said he</l>
					<l>did not care much to go, as all the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>haute societé</hi> of that city had</l>
					<l>emigrated to Paris and there would be nothing to see or enjoy.  I</l>
					<l>said, that without making the acquaintance of a single member</l>
					<l>of that important body, I had passed some of the most</l>
					<l>delightful weeks of my life there - hinted at the wonderful beauty</l>
					<l>of the scenery, at the old Roman world laid open there etc. He</l>
					<l>made no reply, but evidently pitied my ignorance of the world.</l>
					<l>Sunday April 13<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>This afternoon we drove to the Madonna di Campagna</l>
					<l>the roads were bad from the rain of yesterday, but the wheat</l>
					<l>fields were most beautiful. The <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>grain</hi></l>
					<l>wheat</l>
					<l>is now <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>at least</hi> a foot</l>
					<l>high, and some of the winter grains - I could not distinguish the</l>
					<l>species as we passed rapidly - are at least two feet - and nicely</l>
					<l>headed out. The fruit-trees are in fullest flower and the whole</l>
					<l>country seems a rich garden. The air was delicious but the sky looked</l>
					<l>a little angry.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='24'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Monday April 14<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>At two o&apos; clock the last page of the manuscript of the</l>
					<l>Second Course of Lectures on English was sealed up &amp; sent to the</l>
					<l>post and Mr Marsh sat down to announce the fact to his American</l>
					<l>publisher, Scribner. At three I went to see how he was enjoying his</l>
					<l>newly recovered liberty - I found him with a heap of manuscript,</l>
					<l>loose notes etc, about him - &quot;what are you doing now?&quot; I <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>said.</hi></l>
					<l>asked.</l>
					<l>&quot;At work on my next book.&quot; he said in the quietest way in the</l>
					<l>world - and sure enough the projected &quot;<hi rend='underlined:true;'>Physical</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Geography</hi>&quot; was</l>
					<l>already in the forge. &apos;Well, I said, &apos;it cost me fifteen years of hard work</l>
					<l>to <hi rend='underlined:true;'>wind</hi> you up to the writing point, and now I believe you are</l>
					<l>likely to run on without stopping for the next fifteen.&quot; Perhaps so,&apos;</l>
					<l>he answered, but did not look up. For the first time in</l>
					<l>eleven months there has been to-day a sudden change in the weather.</l>
					<l>A thick snow-storm all <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>night</hi> day, with a cold northwest wind &amp;</l>
					<l>and thermometer at 40 <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>Fahrenheit</hi></l>
					<l>Far</l>
					<l>- in the evening at 37 - . What a</l>
					<l>contrast to yesterday.</l>
					<l>Tuesday April 15<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>The de Bunsens were with us for an hour or</l>
					<l>two this afternnon. They spoke of many American acquain-</l>
					<l>-tances they had made at Rome with great pleasure.</l>
					<l>Among others they praised enthusiastically the Storys.</l>
					<l>In Mrs Stowe they seemed to have been disappointed.</l>
					<l>as she occupied their interview with questions about</l>
					<l>the road to Perugia, the expense of getting there,</l>
					<l>the lions to be looked after &amp;c. &amp;c. - in short talked</l>
					<l>like a mere ordinary mortal and did not drop them a</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='25'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>crumb of her greatness to carry off as a specimen.</l>
					<l>I have often thought that many travellers</l>
					<l>regard persons of distinction much as they do old</l>
					<l>temples etc. - if they can&apos;t bring away a <hi rend='underlined:true;'>piece</hi></l>
					<l>they are distressed. Mrs Stowe would however pro</l>
					<l>Miss Arbesser spent the evening with us and</l>
					<l>was not incommunicative. She spoke of Ricasoli&apos;s</l>
					<l>fall as unquestionably a court intrigue, though there</l>
					<l>might have been extraneous influences that gave</l>
					<l>his enemies the power of mischief. She says she had</l>
					<l>ventured to express, one day, something of the admiration</l>
					<l>she felt for his character, when she was taken up</l>
					<l>shortly by Count Gattinara who said &quot;Pour moi,</l>
					<l>Mademoiselle, je n&apos;estime pas un homme qui et</l>
					<l>son&apos; chapeau en présence de sa Majesté!&quot; It seems</l>
					<l>that, on one occasion, when the king passed through</l>
					<l>the council chamber, just as they were breaking up,</l>
					<l>Ricasoli put on his hat, the Count declares, before</l>
					<l>the king had really passed through the opposite door.</l>
					<l>This offense, it appears, cost the unhappy Baron the estime</l>
					<l>of the young courtier. A loss which he probably does not</l>
					<l>greatly grieve over. There is really something grand</l>
					<l>in the noble independence of this man - an independence</l>
					<l>as free from affectation as it is from assumption. He</l>
					<l>would not wantonly do a disrespectful thing in the</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='26'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Another charge brought against poor Ricasoli is, that,</l>
					<l>on New Year&apos;s evening at the Teatro Regio where, with</l>
					<l>all the most distinguished gentlemen of the Court,</l>
					<l>he was attending on the king, he, after having</l>
					<l>been honored with a ten minutes talk with</l>
					<l>His Majesty, retired to the lower extremity</l>
					<l>of the space</l>
					<l>behind</l>
					<l>the king and <hi rend='underlined:true;'>sat down</hi>! This act - though he was</l>
					<l>so far behind the king as to be quite invisible to</l>
					<l>the audience greatly shocked some of the high priests</l>
					<l>of royalty, one of whom went to him and remonstrated</l>
					<l>on the impropriety of his conduct. &quot;Laissez moi tranquil,&quot;</l>
					<l>said the indignant Baron, &quot;c&apos;est une bêtise!&quot;</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='27'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l></l>
					<l>presence of the king, but he is a despiser of the</l>
					<l>&apos;<hi rend='underlined:true;'>traditions</hi>&apos;, some of which disgrace the Italian</l>
					<l>court to this day. This same Gattinara who really</l>
					<l>seems an amiable man, quotes in justification</l>
					<l>of some of his absurd insistences a reprimand which</l>
					<l>he received when one of the royal pages of the late</l>
					<l>Queen. On some ceremonial occasion the queen</l>
					<l>suddenly swooned and Gattinara, who was the </l>
					<l>only gentleman standing near her at the time</l>
					<l>caught and sustained her till other assistance</l>
					<l>could be had. For this he was sharply blamed. on</l>
					<l>the ground that the injunction &quot;ne touchez pas</l>
					<l>à la reine&apos; was too sacred a thing to be violated, and</l>
					<l>the royal lady should rather have been suffered</l>
					<l>to fall on the marble floor. He now sees the propri-</l>
					<l>-ety of this, and probably it is a severe mortification</l>
					<l>to him that his own noble instincts should not have</l>
					<l>taught it without the necessity of the lesson.</l>
					<l>Miss Arbesser tells - on the authority of the Duchess</l>
					<l>herself I fancy though she did not say so - an amusing</l>
					<l>instance of the formality of the queen mother of Victor Em-</l>
					<l>manuel. She was in the habit of having her two daughters</l>
					<l>-in-law, the Queen Adelaide and the Duchess, with her</l>
					<l>every day after dinner, and she herself gave them tea</l>
					<l>or coffee. The Duchess <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>who</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>never</hi> took coffee, but the persis-</l>
					<l>tent queen regularly offered it to her every evening, year</l>
					<l>after year, always receiving the same answer and always</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='28'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>persevering in the same polite offer - &quot;Caffé, Elisabetta?&quot;</l>
					<l>&quot;No, grazie,&quot; and so it went on to the end. The awful</l>
					<l>state kept up at this family meeting seems to have</l>
					<l>been too appalling for the son and husband, and it is</l>
					<l>no wonder that Victor Emmanuel preferred</l>
					<l>&apos;black bread and onions&apos; to such a tea table. The</l>
					<l>two young wives and mothers could not speak to each</l>
					<l>other even of their children without a frown from the</l>
					<l>queen dowager. Add to this the fact that not only</l>
					<l>she, but</l>
					<l>also</l>
					<l>Queen Adelaide was completely in the power</l>
					<l>of the Jesuits and one ceases to wonder at the consequences.</l>
					<l>Miss Arbesser says &quot;one should not speak unkindly</l>
					<l>of the dead and Queen Adelaide was really most ami-</l>
					<l>-able, but they have both been canonized by priestly</l>
					<l>praise and can afford to bear a little blame from</l>
					<l>us worldings.&quot; She says she has done what she</l>
					<l>could to induce the Duchess to exert her influence</l>
					<l>in favor of the Princess Marie Pie, and try to have</l>
					<l>an English Gouvernante in</l>
					<l>the</l>
					<l>place of one of the four</l>
					<l>Piedmontese ladies who are now acting in that ca-</l>
					<l>-pacity. But her Royal Highness does not think it</l>
					<l>possible - perhaps even fears she may make for herself</l>
					<l>dangerous enemies by the attempt. The following</l>
					<l>anecdote may give some idea of these guides of</l>
					<l>the royal princess. A Turinese lady of rank meeting</l>
					<l>one of them the other day said &quot;Madam, I went to</l>
					<l>pay a visit to your daughter yesterday and - &quot;</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='29'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>&quot;Oh yes!&quot; exclaimed the countess, &quot;she told me how</l>
					<l>delighted she was to see you!&quot; [illegible]</l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>replied</hi></l>
					<l>&quot;et&quot; continued</l>
					<l>the first, with provoking coolness, &quot;je ne l&apos;ai</l>
					<l>pas trouvée à la maison.&quot; If Miss Arbesser is</l>
					<l>not mistaken, the poor princess Marie&apos;s intellectual</l>
					<l>development is much what might be expected from</l>
					<l>such surroundings; her morale fortunately seems</l>
					<l>to be far better than could be looked for. The little</l>
					<l>Duke of Genoa <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>seems to</hi> interests Miss Arbesser a good deal.</l>
					<l>She thinks him a child of great sensibility, and of</l>
					<l>remarkable mechanical and even artistic genius -</l>
					<l>more likely, in fact, to distinguish himself as a poet</l>
					<l>than as a prince. Of the heir apparent and Prince</l>
					<l>Amadeo she speaks quite enthusiastically, but says,</l>
					<l>what they are they owe to their military education, which</l>
					<l>has taken them, in part at least, out of the hands of the</l>
					<l>priests. It is to be hoped the little Duke will have the</l>
					<l>same good fortune some day. &quot;The poor Duchess,&quot; my chatty</l>
					<l>friend says, &quot;often sighs when she sees the poor child</l>
					<l>led to his carriage by the Marchese della Rovere on</l>
					<l>one side and another governour on the other, and exclaims,</l>
					<l>&quot;They will take my boy for an idiot when they see</l>
					<l>him led about in this way.&quot; If my young gossip ever paused</l>
					<l>long enough to give me an opportunity to pronounce one whole</l>
					<l>sentence, I should be almost <hi rend='underlined:true;'>worldly</hi> enough to suspect some mischief</l>
					<l>under all this frankness, but she never waits to hear either assent or</l>
					<l>dissent from her auditors</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='30'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Wednesday, 16<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> April,</l>
					<l>Mr Crafts &amp; family from Boston, &amp; Col. Winthrop (&amp; family</l>
					<l>I believe) from N.Y. arrived here to-day. It is not very pleasant</l>
					<l>to meet <hi rend='underlined:true;'>lukewarm</hi> Americans just now &amp;</l>
					<l>even</l>
					<l>our respect for Mrs C.</l>
					<l>personally and</l>
					<l>our</l>
					<l>still [illegible]</l>
					<l>greater</l>
					<l>regard for her parents</l>
					<l>are hardly sufficient to secure a welcome for the party. Col.</l>
					<l>Winthrop, I shall suffer to speak for himself, and if the first</l>
					<l>part of the anecdote he tells of himself - and he told it to</l>
					<l>Mr Marsh this morning - is not very probable, and the</l>
					<l>last not very creditable to him as a gentleman it is his</l>
					<l>fault &amp; not mine. &quot;I was in Florence some years ago</l>
					<l>spending the winter, and the Grand Chamberlain of the Grand</l>
					<l>Duke said to me one evening, &quot;There is no one in Florence</l>
					<l>officially authorized to present Americans at Court &amp; the G. D.</l>
					<l>proposes to give you that privilege if you are disposed to</l>
					<l>accept it. Accordingly I received formal notice that I should</l>
					<l>be expected to present Americans etc - . Not long after an</l>
					<l>American introduced himself to me and seemed surprised that</l>
					<l>I did not recollect him. &quot;Do you not remember me, Col. Win-</l>
					<l>throp?&quot; he said, &quot;I used to furnish you with carriages at &quot;__</l>
					<l>&quot;Well, and do I <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>owe</hi></l>
					<l>owe</l>
					<l>you any thing,&quot; I asked - &quot;O no,&quot; he replied,</l>
					<l>in some confusion,&quot;but I understood you had the privilege</l>
					<l>of presenting Americans at Court and - &quot; I cut him short </l>
					<l>by saying it was a private privilege which I did not feel</l>
					<l>at liberty to exert except for the benefit of personal friends.&quot;</l>
					<l>If money that one has <hi rend='underlined:true;'>not</hi> earned makes a man more respectable</l>
					<l>than money that one has earned this Col. W. may have claims</l>
					<l>beyond the man he insulted, but as to any qualities of heart or intellect</l>
					<l>I must see the latter to believe him his inferior.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='31'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>April</hi> April 17<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>The weather continues so cold as to make a fire</l>
					<l>necessary at evening and the frost is said to have injured the</l>
					<l>fruit-trees and still more the mulberies which were just</l>
					<l>leaving out beautifully. It is really sad after six weeks</l>
					<l>without a particle of frost that such a relapse should</l>
					<l>be experienced. The fall of snow on Monday did much mischief</l>
					<l>to the trees around some of the villas, breaking &amp; up-</l>
					<l>rooting them. We drove along the banks of the river</l>
					<l>towards the north of the city and enjoyed the luxuriant</l>
					<l>grain-fields most heartily. Mr Marsh had</l>
					<l>a</l>
					<l>long talk</l>
					<l>with Pulszky to-day. He believes it is the intention</l>
					<l>of Austria to attack Italy the first moment she dares,</l>
					<l>and he quite agrees with Mr Marsh that Lord Palmeston [Palmerston&apos;s]</l>
					<l>wordy friendship for the Italian Cause means nothing</l>
					<l>whatever on the part of England, though some good may</l>
					<l>indirectly come of it. Every military man speaks of</l>
					<l>the late retreat of the Rebels from Manasses as inexplicable</l>
					<l>except on the admission that Gen. McClellan is either</l>
					<l>either [sic] an <hi rend='underlined:true;'>imbecile</hi> or a traitor. It is to be hoped</l>
					<l>he will soon give some evidence that he is neither</l>
					<l>the one or the other. There are very audible</l>
					<l>thunder-mutterings in the gathering clouds here and it</l>
					<l>would not be surprising if a storm were to burst forth</l>
					<l>at any moment. There is a rumor that a number of English</l>
					<l>frigates have appeared in the bay of Naples, and show a</l>
					<l>disposition to play off a game there to match the Emperor at</l>
					<l>Rome. I wish it might be so--as it may help bring events</l>
					<l>to a crisis.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='32'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>April 18<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>In a drive with Mrs Stanley to day I tried to learn</l>
					<l>a little more about the good society here apart from the</l>
					<l>haute societé. Mrs S. is very independent in her selection</l>
					<l>of acquaintances and really knows very well what materiel</l>
					<l>there is here, but she is so <hi rend='underlined:true;'>English</hi> in the character of her mind</l>
					<l>that it is next to impossible to make her hear a question, or</l>
					<l>if one is fortunate enough to succeed in that, to get an</l>
					<l>answer. The national fogs have certainly told at last</l>
					<l>on the intellects of these amiable islanders. I went to</l>
					<l>enquire and leave compliments for our precious old friend</l>
					<l>Plana who has been quite ill - was glad indeed to hear he</l>
					<l>was better. - Col. Cluseret writes rather a discouraging</l>
					<l>letter from the American army which disturbs us a good</l>
					<l>deal - but much allowance must be made for the</l>
					<l>prejudices of a foreigner.</l>
					<l>Saturday 19.</l>
					<l>Good old Mrs Simpson undertook to give me some</l>
					<l>account of Miss Bertons philanthropic operations for the Piedmon-</l>
					<l>-tese, but there was such an English mistiness</l>
					<l>about it</l>
					<l>that I could</l>
					<l>make little of the story. At first it appeared that Miss</l>
					<l>Berton was an American, then that perhaps she was - that</l>
					<l>she was furnishing Bibles and giving school instruction to the</l>
					<l>Piedmontese - that she did all this somewhere in Switzerland</l>
					<l>- that the idea was suggested to her by a person she met</l>
					<l>when travelling, but of whom she could never hear</l>
					<l>anything afterwards, though she advertised etc. etc.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='33'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>I succeeded in getting one answer to one question,</l>
					<l>- namely how the Piedmontese laboring classes were</l>
					<l>to be benefitted by a school in Switzerland! &quot;Oh I meant</l>
					<l>the Piedmontese who were at work on the railroads</l>
					<l>on the other side of the mountains.&quot; This was something</l>
					<l>and may serve as a basis of</l>
					<l>further</l>
					<l>inquiry. The diplomatic</l>
					<l>corps are all grumbling that the King invites them</l>
					<l>to meet him at Naples and leaves them to make the</l>
					<l>five hundred mile <hi rend='underlined:true;'>trajet</hi> as they can, giving them</l>
					<l>their choice between brigands by land and coast boats</l>
					<l>by sea. The Prussian Minister takes this occasion to recall</l>
					<l>an experience of his own a few years ago. He was at Nice</l>
					<l>and invited by his Majesty to meet him at Genoa. There</l>
					<l>was no way to get there on the day named except by</l>
					<l>boat - the ordinary coasting boat between Nice and Genoa.</l>
					<l>The Prussian Minister went on board - the freight</l>
					<l>that day was <hi rend='underlined:true;'>pigs</hi> and a very full freight at that.</l>
					<l>The Minister says &quot;the sea was very rough. I was very</l>
					<l>sick, the pigs were very sick, and the rest may be left</l>
					<l>to the imagination.&quot; I have no doubt if it were</l>
					<l>once suggested to the king he would immediately order</l>
					<l>a corvette to take us which might be done without</l>
					<l>inconvenience or expense to the Government. As to our-</l>
					<l>-selves the ten day rule will serve as an excuse and</l>
					<l>we shall not go. This evening we went to the</l>
					<l>Viscontis to a <hi rend='underlined:true;'>soirée musicale.</hi> The music was admirable</l>
					<l>The principle</l>
					<l>performers</l>
					<l>were Madame Ferrares, Madame Richetta</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='34'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>and the Countess Castellenga. The first was a cele-</l>
					<l>-brated theatrical singer, but always a person of ex-</l>
					<l>-cellent character and now married to a highly respectable</l>
					<l>advocate. The second too I think has sung publicly, though</l>
					<l>I am not quite sure. The Countess Castellenga, a pleasing</l>
					<l>woman of about forty has only just discovered her extraordinary</l>
					<l>power and compass of voice and she now devotes herself en-</l>
					<l>-tirely to its cultivation. There were some notorieties</l>
					<l>present but on the whoe the company seemed to be se-</l>
					<l>-lected rather with reference to its capacity for enjoy-</l>
					<l>-ing the music than from any other consideration.</l>
					<l>The princess--or rather the Marchesa Solariro, whose</l>
					<l>mother was a real Hindoo princess, sat at my</l>
					<l>right hand. She is now a woman of fifty five, perhaps</l>
					<l>more, prodigiously fat but with an agreeable face and</l>
					<l>very lady-like manners. The old Marchesa Spinola, one</l>
					<l>of the quaintest specimens of the olden time that we</l>
					<l>have seen was among the guests. The little, hoopless, old</l>
					<l>thing looked so funny between the full blown women who</l>
					<l>sat each side of her - but when she spoke it was the voice</l>
					<l>of a giant - not even a giantess - rather deep, though, than</l>
					<l>loud. I fancy <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>M</hi> Bloody Mary spoke in the same key,</l>
					<l>yet Heaven forbid I should intimate that there is</l>
					<l>anything <hi rend='underlined:true;'>bloody</hi> about this fantastic looking Marchesa.</l>
					<l>She seems extremely good natured and her first question</l>
					<l>to Mr Marsh when he was presented to her was: &quot;Did you</l>
					<l>bring any parrots from America?&quot; and on his replying in</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='35'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>the negative, she added: &quot;Why I should have supposed</l>
					<l>you would, they are so plenty there.&quot; He was extremely</l>
					<l>diverted with the old lady, says she is a thorough ori-</l>
					<l>-ginal and</l>
					<l>he</l>
					<l>hopes to see more of her. Some one was</l>
					<l>wicked enough to tell her that Madame Benedetti</l>
					<l>did not go to see her because she had heard that &quot;she</l>
					<l>was <hi rend='underlined:true;'>old</hi> and <hi rend='underlined:true;'>ugly</hi> and did not go out any more&quot;.</l>
					<l>Poor old lady! I dare say she cares more to see Madame</l>
					<l>Benedetti&apos;s two little miniature parrots than to see</l>
					<l>their mistress. I was amused at the address</l>
					<l>of Count Farcito, a most dignified old gentleman,</l>
					<l>as he came up to Mrs Stanley. &quot;Est-ce-que vous m&apos;aimez</l>
					<l>toujours!&quot; &quot;Oui, oui, toujours!&quot; replied Mrs Stanley, and I</l>
					<l>added &quot;Oui, Monsieur le Comte, c&apos;est vrai--parce qu&apos;elle</l>
					<l>vient de me faire sa confidante&quot; and it was true</l>
					<l>that she was that moment telling me how much she</l>
					<l>admired him.</l>
					<l>Sunday 20. Two of Kossuth&apos;s sons were here</l>
					<l>today. Attractive young men who have learned so much</l>
					<l>from exile that they are willing to work. They are both</l>
					<l>in the employment of this government as engineers. I</l>
					<l>hope they will come and see us often as I wish to make</l>
					<l>such young men feel that they are not less respected</l>
					<l>for daring to be independent.</l>
					<l>Monday 21<hi rend='superscript:true;'>st</hi></l>
					<l>Ill in bed both yesterday &amp; to-day, and Carrie</l>
					<l>is not much better though she is obliged to make some</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='36'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>PRANZO AL MINISTERO DEGLI AFFARI ESTERI</l>
					<l>21 Aprile 1862.</l>
					<l>Minuta del Pranzo</l>
					<l>Minestra primaverile alla Reale</l>
					<l>Vini</l>
					<l>Capri</l>
					<l>Buccolotti di Dama e creste alla Villa Reale</l>
					<l>Fleury</l>
					<l>Trota salsa burro di granchi</l>
					<l>Filetto di bue all&apos;Imperiale</l>
					<l>Romanée</l>
					<l>Pollastri alla Cavalliera</l>
					<l>Presciutto Inglese con gelatina</l>
					<l>Costolette di vitello in Bella vista</l>
					<l>PUNCH ALLA ROMANA</l>
					<l>Asparagi al burro</l>
					<l>Reno</l>
					<l>Carcioffi all&apos;Italiana</l>
					<l>Faggiani allo spiedo con crescione</l>
					<l>Lafite</l>
					<l>Sogliole in Mayonese allo spicco</l>
					<l>Plum pudding al rhum</l>
					<l>Ciampagna</l>
					<l>Croccante in bocca di frutta guarnito di Plombiera</l>
					<l>FRUTTA</l>
					<l>Caluso vecch.<hi rend='superscript:true;'>mo</hi></l>
					<l>Sra F<hi rend='superscript:true;'>ida</hi> Doyen<hi rend='superscript:true;'><unclear>i</unclear></hi></l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='37'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>good-bye visits. Mr Marsh dined with the New Ministry - it</l>
					<l>does not impress him as possessing</l>
					<l>the</l>
					<l>ability of the last. The</l>
					<l>sympathy expressed by them all in the success of the</l>
					<l>good cause in America was most satisfactory however.</l>
					<l>In making some morning visits on the ladies of the D. C.</l>
					<l>the question of the Comtesse Marini&apos;s position came up,</l>
					<l>most of the ladies declaring she had no diplomatic</l>
					<l>rights whatever, being only <hi rend='underlined:true;'>mother</hi> &amp; not <hi rend='underlined:true;'>wife</hi> of a minister.</l>
					<l>Mr Marsh mentioned our experience at Athens where the</l>
					<l>English Minister claimed for his niece all the honors</l>
					<l>of his own position on the ground that she was the presiding</l>
					<l>lady of his family, and when the Greek Government refused</l>
					<l>to give her <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>that</hi></l>
					<l>the</l>
					<l>place he considered her entitled to the E.</l>
					<l>government took up the matter - Madame Pluskow, the Grande</l>
					<l>Maitresse was sent away, and Miss Wyse <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>was</hi> took her place</l>
					<l>at Court balls etc just as if she had been the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>wife</hi> and</l>
					<l>not the niece of Sir Thomas. Mad. Benedetti says that</l>
					<l>at the Court of St James they acknowledge no such right, - </l>
					<l>in any lady connected with the D.C. unless a wife - but</l>
					<l>we all know that what England <hi rend='underlined:true;'>allows</hi> is no criterion</l>
					<l>as to what she will claim.</l>
					<l>Tuesday 22<hi rend='superscript:true;'>d</hi></l>
					<l>We have just heard of the death of Kossuth&apos;s</l>
					<l>daughter - a sad thing for the whole family. The prince</l>
					<l>of Capua died this morning at the Hotel d&apos;Europe. A</l>
					<l>carbuncle was the immediate cause of his death, but he</l>
					<l>seems to have been suffering much as his brother, the late</l>
					<l>Bomba did. His family are said to be greatly afflicted, but</l>
					<l>the scenes reported to have taken place between his wife and some</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='38'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>other members of her family--Lady de <unclear>Norbend</unclear> and Miss Smith [Smyth] - </l>
					<l>could not have been very edifying to the dying man. The princess</l>
					<l>herself, having become a Romanist and knowing her husband</l>
					<l>to be born such, naturally wished</l>
					<l>him</l>
					<l>to have the consolations</l>
					<l>of the Roman Church. The other ladies were stormy and said - </l>
					<l>probably when milder remonstrances had failed - that only a fool</l>
					<l>could put trust in such things. It is to be<hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>tter</hi> hoped the poor</l>
					<l>man was insensible to such discussions. Telegrams of a</l>
					<l>national victory near Corinth and of the surrender of Iland [Island] No 10.</l>
					<l>We can hardly wait for confirmation. Mr Marsh went</l>
					<l>to see Mrs <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Solvyns</hi> whose visit I missed yesterday</l>
					<l>by being in bed. We found both her and her mother</l>
					<l>as much excited as ourselves about home affairs &amp;</l>
					<l>as scornful of traitors, and as indignant against En-</l>
					<l>-gland. It will be a great comfort to us to have them</l>
					<l>here.</l>
					<l>Wednesday 23<hi rend='superscript:true;'>d</hi> April</l>
					<l>The priceless Abbé gave us this evening a very</l>
					<l>entertaining account of the Expedition just set out for Persia</l>
					<l>partly diplomatic, partly scientific. He says it originated</l>
					<l>in an embarrassment of Cavour with regard to the Italian</l>
					<l>Minister then at Constantinople but that</l>
					<l>it was never intended by originator to be carried out.</l>
					<l>So Ricasoli understood it and let it drop - but the new</l>
					<l>Ministry to do something took it up again, and if the Abbé</l>
					<l>is not entirely mistaken it is a most ill-digested affair.</l>
					<l>The Count San Germano is one of the envoyés, Count Grimaldi</l>
					<l>another - both lively young men who will enjoy it, but</l>
					<l>whether they will <hi rend='underlined:true;'>utilise</hi> it in any sense may be well doubted.</l>
					<l>It seems a pity for this government in its present condition to</l>
					<l>waste any thing. The family of the Prince of Capua</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='39'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>went to Stupenigi [Stupinigi] to-day where the king gives them a home as long</l>
					<l>as they wish to stay. People say that this unhappy man is greatly</l>
					<l>regretted by his wife &amp; children - and yet he is the very man</l>
					<l>who shot down a peasant for cutting a stick on his grounds</l>
					<l>near Naples, and who was for years the terror of the neighborhood</l>
					<l>for this and similar acts.</l>
					<l>Thursday, 24<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> April</l>
					<l>Had a pleasant visit from Mad. Pulszky and her fine</l>
					<l>children - she is no common woman &amp; inspires one with more</l>
					<l>confidence than does her husband. Madame Benedetti came</l>
					<l>in afterward, and I looked as usual in vain for the secret</l>
					<l>of her unpopularity which seems now to extend even to those</l>
					<l>who at first defended her. Carrie &amp; Giachino left for</l>
					<l>Florence this evening.</l>
					<l>Friday 25th</l>
					<l>In bed all day with violent cold etc.</l>
					<l>was obliged to decline Miss Arbesser&apos;s visit this eve.</l>
					<l>Mr Marsh had a long talk with Gen. Durando, Min. of</l>
					<l>F. Affairs, this morning, both on Italian and American</l>
					<l>politics. He is a simple, earnest-hearted man</l>
					<l>prematurely</l>
					<l>broken down</l>
					<l>physically. Like every other Italian he is heartily with our Gov.</l>
					<l>Sat. 26<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Still in bed, and of course obliged to give</l>
					<l>up the usual Sat. reception which is gradually dying</l>
					<l>a natural death as the warm weather comes on.</l>
					<l>Sunday 27<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>The anniversary of our leaving N.Y. and Mr M. &amp;</l>
					<l>I spent the day in extemporising a Jeremiad on the</l>
					<l>results of the year as compared with what seemed then the</l>
					<l>most reasonable expectation. Who dreamed then that half the officers</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='40'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>in actual command were traitors. Who dreamed Cameron would remain</l>
					<l>Sec. of War - nine months - and Welles of the Navy through the year. But God</l>
					<l>disposes, and He will not let the vine He has planted in the West</l>
					<l>be utterly trampled out. He has given us many victories, if not</l>
					<l>yet one overwhelming one.</l>
					<l>Monday 28<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Crept out into my writing cabinet, but still not well</l>
					<l>enough to dress. We are trying to make some plan for</l>
					<l>an escapade into the country for a few days - Apropos</l>
					<l>of this came up the question whether my donkey-saddle</l>
					<l>had been re-stuffed since our last mountain <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>excurtion</hi></l>
					<l>excursion</l>
					<l>when it</l>
					<l>so</l>
					<l>galled the poor beast that bore it. Mr Marsh</l>
					<l>could not be persuaded to accept my repeated assurances</l>
					<l>that it had been put in order, and I was obliged to call</l>
					<l>on the infalliable Alexander for confirmation of the fact. The</l>
					<l>sceptic seemed a little confused, and I mischievously</l>
					<l>advised him to go the carriage house and examine the</l>
					<l>matter for himself as one could never be quite sure</l>
					<l>without the evidence of one&apos;s own senses. &quot;Ah,&quot; said he,</l>
					<l>&quot;I see! you think I had better <hi rend='underlined:true;'>try</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>it</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>on</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>myself</hi>!&quot;</l>
					<l>Tuesday 29<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>A letter from Mr Dillon, whom we fancied</l>
					<l>half-way to America or somewhere else, dated at Turin</l>
					<l>expresses to Mr Marsh <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>much</hi> much astonishment that</l>
					<l>he should be spoken of by some correspondent of the</l>
					<l>N.Y. Times as a person of at least very lukewarm loyalty</l>
					<l>if not actually a favorer of Secession. Mr Marsh replied</l>
					<l>that he knew nothing whatever of any such article, but, on</l>
					<l>the other hand, that he could not understand the</l>
					<l>surprise he expressed at seeing such a statement after</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='41'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>his rather public discussion of American Politics at the</l>
					<l>Convegno dei deputati, where, as he himself admitted, he was</l>
					<l>sharply taken up for his language against his own Gov.</l>
					<l>I am glad Mr Marsh has had this opportunity of showing</l>
					<l>Mr Dillon that he has no disposition to be any thing but</l>
					<l>frank with him, and that the necessity of avoiding personal</l>
					<l>altercation with him, for the sake of the respectibility</l>
					<l>of the Legation so long as he remained connected with</l>
					<l>it, alone prevented him from speaking his mind</l>
					<l>to him from the beginning.</l>
					<l>Miss Arbesser spent the evening with me again, but as she [illegible]</l>
					<l>unluckily stumbled upon that most stultifying of topics - </l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>Spiritualism</hi> - alias table-turnings, I was not greatly edified - </l>
					<l>and besides, by insisting on trying certain very stale experiments</l>
					<l>with a key, she forced me to tell her frankly that I could see</l>
					<l>her arm and hand move with a most natural muscular</l>
					<l>change of place which made the gyrations of the key any</l>
					<l>thing but a miracle. By persuading</l>
					<l>her</l>
					<l>to lean her hand and arm</l>
					<l>against an upright, firm support, the pranks of the key</l>
					<l>ceased instantaneously. She will not like me the better</l>
					<l>for this unless she loves truth more sincerely than most.</l>
					<l>She gave a strange account of [illegible] Brasier de St. Simon&apos;s</l>
					<l>devotion to this absurd delusion. He, it appears, is one</l>
					<l>of the great patrons of the science, and even now</l>
					<l>devotes much of his time to his clairvoyants.</l>
					<l>She spoke of a book dedicated to him containing the</l>
					<l>usual amount, I should think, of mock miracles - and admitted</l>
					<l>that the Austrians alluded to</l>
					<l>in</l>
					<l>it as the A___ family was</l>
					<l>her own, &amp; that she was herself, <hi rend='underlined:true;'>the young</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>lady</hi>, so often mentioned.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='42'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Wednesday April 30<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Mrs Solvyns, whom I had directed should be made</l>
					<l>an exception to the general order not to receive visitors, was</l>
					<l>with me a half hour to-day. She is quiet and unpretending, but</l>
					<l>one cannot feel [fail] to see at once that she has much strength</l>
					<l>and self-reliance of character - a true specimen of a well-</l>
					<l>-bred American woman - without the grace, certainly, that is</l>
					<l>so common with us, but this is more than atoned for by</l>
					<l>the entire absence of that pert affectation so frequently</l>
					<l>seen in our city girls &amp; young women. On the whole I am</l>
					<l>greatly pleased with this my compatriote.</l>
					<l>We had a hearty laugh this morning over a letter addressed</l>
					<l>to Mr M. by the Consul at Leghorn, Mr Stephens. He says, &quot;you</l>
					<l>will examine &amp;c &amp;c and report fully to me, as I wish &amp;c &amp;c.&quot;</l>
					<l>Mr Stephens seems to <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>forget</hi></l>
					<l>fancy</l>
					<l>he is <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>not</hi> addressing, in his capacity</l>
					<l>of schoomaster, one of his western urchins. Mr Marsh says</l>
					<l>&quot;it&apos;s lucky for me that I&apos;m not within reach of his ferrule.&quot;</l>
					<l>I suggested by way of excuse for Mr Stephens, that he</l>
					<l>no doubt supposed himself <hi rend='underlined:true;'>First</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Consul</hi>.</l>
					<l>To-day we had fresh figs and strawberries in abundance</l>
					<l>and grown in the immediate vicinity of Turin too.</l>
					<l>Thursday May 1<hi rend='superscript:true;'>st</hi>.</l>
					<l>Drove to Moncalieri and returned by the</l>
					<l>other side of the river. The country is looking most</l>
					<l>beautifully green but the fine lights &amp; shades so charming</l>
					<l>on the Collina in winter fade away and are lost in all</l>
					<l>this abundance of verdure. The peasants were dancing</l>
					<l>their May-dance near Moncalieri, but there were very few</l>
					<l>and not much seems to be made of the May festa in Italy.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='43'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Speaking this evening with the Abbe Baruffi of the changes now</l>
					<l>taking place so rapidly even in the Oriental world, I mentioned</l>
					<l>the fact that when we were in Constantinople the ladies of the</l>
					<l>diplomatic corps were never presented to the Sultan - that one</l>
					<l>year after we left, His Majesty visited them in their boxes at</l>
					<l>his Theatre, as I was told by Mrs Solvyns the other day.</l>
					<l>The Abbé then gave an account of the reception of Count</l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>Sauti</hi> Sauli who went to Constantinople as Minister from</l>
					<l>the king of Sardinia in 1825. The minister, in enumerating</l>
					<l>the titles of his master had the imprudence to say &quot;king</l>
					<l>of Cyprus, Jerusalem etc.&quot; He was stopped by the Grand Vizier</l>
					<l>who, in the coarsest language, demanded how the Christian dog</l>
					<l>dared speak thus in the presence of the true lord of the East etc</l>
					<l>etc. His manner is represented as most violent &amp; insulting. After</l>
					<l>the best apology that could be made by the Giaour he was</l>
					<l>suffered to finish his address to the Sultan. Then the great</l>
					<l>Padisha of the Faithful opened his august lips, but at</l>
					<l>that instant a spring was touched, the water gushed from</l>
					<l>a fountain in the apartment and not a sound except</l>
					<l>its dashing flow reached the ears of the infidel who</l>
					<l>was held unworthy to hear the voice of the vicegerent</l>
					<l>of the Prophet. Such was Turkey in 1825. - He also</l>
					<l>told us an amusing story about certain bounties</l>
					<l>offered</l>
					<l>here</l>
					<l>for killing wolves soon after the end of the</l>
					<l>Napoleonic wars, and quoted from proclamations</l>
					<l>in the [sic] which the wolves were spoken of as</l>
					<l>&apos;i prelodati lupi&apos;. Italianissimo this certainly.</l>
					<l>An account of a robbery in which he was himself a</l>
					<l>sufferer was also very characteristic. Each passenger in the</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='44'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>dilligence was bound &amp; searched, with the exception of a lady</l>
					<l>whom they [illegible] requested to give up her purse voluntarily without</l>
					<l>forcing them to treat her with this indignity. &quot;Gentlemen,&quot; she said,</l>
					<l>&quot;you know very well that the husband &amp; not the wife carries</l>
					<l>the money. I have just seen you take all he has&quot; - and she</l>
					<l>pointed to a man still lying on the ground - &quot;but I can offer</l>
					<l>you a pinch of snuff, and the box too if it pleases you.&quot;</l>
					<l>So saying she took out her snuff-box, the robbers took each</l>
					<l>a <hi rend='underlined:true;'>prise</hi> but gallantly returned the box. The travellers</l>
					<l>were then suffered to proceed. Just before arriving at their</l>
					<l>destination the lady took out a purse of six thousand</l>
					<l>francs and begged to be allowed to supply the wants of</l>
					<l>her fellow-travellers and expecially of the discreet</l>
					<l>person who</l>
					<l>had so</l>
					<l>quietly acquiesced in her ruse.</l>
					<l>Friday May 2<hi rend='superscript:true;'>nd</hi></l>
					<l>Had a long drive with Mrs Stanley - but came</l>
					<l>home weary &amp; unwell, and filled with wonder that a person</l>
					<l>can be so good as she is and not be better - so sensible and</l>
					<l>yet no wiser - so frank and yet so but half sincere.</l>
					<l>Sat. May 3<hi rend='superscript:true;'>d</hi></l>
					<l>Learned many curious things about the Neapolitan</l>
					<l>Gov. to-day from Baron <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Fava</hi> who was at the N. Court</l>
					<l>when the last crash came. He advised me to draw out</l>
					<l>Count Salmour on the subject - he having</l>
					<l>been sent</l>
					<l>by Cavour to carry</l>
					<l>on negotiations with the young king. Fava gives a very</l>
					<l>interesting sketch of the young queen, and says if the king had</l>
					<l>had brains enough to have followed her counsels <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>intea</hi></l>
					<l>instead of being guided by his bigotted, priest-ridden mother</l>
					<l>he might have preserved his throne for another ten</l>
					<l>years at least. Mr Fenton of the English Legation</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='45'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>was presented to us this evening by Mrs Stanley. He has been</l>
					<l>attached to the E. Embassy at Washington and seems to have</l>
					<l>learned a good deal about America during the two years</l>
					<l>he was there. Though he was with Lord Normanby in</l>
					<l>Naples and is said to sympathise with him in his views,</l>
					<l>he expressed no illiberal opinions to us, and his conver-</l>
					<l>-sation showed much power of observation and vastly</l>
					<l>more culture than one generally finds among that class</l>
					<l>of diplomats. Better still, and rarest of all for an</l>
					<l>Englishman, he is not deaf, but can hear and even</l>
					<l>reply to a remark made to him, or an explanation</l>
					<l>given. He does not think it possible - and he speaks</l>
					<l>after ten years</l>
					<l>residence</l>
					<l>in Spain &amp; Italy - [illegible] for any one of</l>
					<l>Northern blood even to come thoroughly into the intimacies</l>
					<l>of the Southern races. How far his opinions on this subject</l>
					<l>are just must depend very much upon his knowledge</l>
					<l>of the language of the races, and of this I know nothing.</l>
					<l>The two great obstacles between us are certainly language</l>
					<l>and religion. Few persons ever learn a foreign language</l>
					<l>well enough to be really expansive in it. We are never</l>
					<l>quite ourselves except when we speak our mother tongue,</l>
					<l>and we forget when a foreigner is trying to speak it</l>
					<l>with us, that he too is</l>
					<l>then</l>
					<l>no longer himself - that he says</l>
					<l>what he does not intend to say - that he cannot say what</l>
					<l>he wishes to say. Difference in religion, even where it</l>
					<l>is only <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>nomal</hi> nominal, erects a most formidable barrier.</l>
					<l>In this respect we find Italy less advanced than we</l>
					<l>hoped. Men who talk in the boldest manner about the</l>
					<l>corruptions of the Romish Church, who denounce popes, cardinals,</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='46'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>and priestly power more vehemently than we should do our-</l>
					<l>selves, who in fact say all that the warmest protestant could</l>
					<l>say, shrink with a sort of nervous horror from an Italian</l>
					<l>who has become a protestant. A marked proof of this we</l>
					<l>have in the feeling manifested towards our friend Botta who</l>
					<l>has broken his priestly vows and married our remarkable</l>
					<l>countrywoman, Miss Lynch. We supposed he had many</l>
					<l>friends here - we find <hi rend='underlined:true;'>nobody</hi> will speak of him if it</l>
					<l>is possible to avoid it, and when pressed they all say</l>
					<l>&quot;it would be wiser for him not to return here - he</l>
					<l>would</l>
					<l>not</l>
					<l>be molested in any way, but he would not find</l>
					<l>his position agreeable.&quot; And yet they charge him with</l>
					<l>nothing but <hi rend='underlined:true;'>protestantism</hi> &amp; <hi rend='underlined:true;'>marriage</hi>. There is a long</l>
					<l>stride from this state of things to real liberality.</l>
					<l>Sunday May 4<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>We drove this afternoon to the Venaria Reale</l>
					<l>once a magnificent place, but in a ruinous condition</l>
					<l>since the French Revolution - it deserves another day</l>
					<l>which we hope to give to it. Mr Marsh went to</l>
					<l>hear <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>the</hi></l>
					<l>a</l>
					<l>lecture of Ferrara on the political writers</l>
					<l>of Italy in the 13<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> century - very interesting.</l>
					<l>Monday 5<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> May</l>
					<l>A search - unsuccessful - for the villa of</l>
					<l>the de Bunsens took us this afternoon to a most charming</l>
					<l>country-seat high up the Collina towards Moncaliere [Moncalieri].</l>
					<l>The ascent was steep, but the road good, and the view</l>
					<l>from the villa enchanting. The garden was in admirable</l>
					<l>condition, and</l>
					<l>all</l>
					<l>a-blush with climbing roses which seemed to</l>
					<l>cover every wall and wreathe every window. This Collina</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='47'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>abounds in the most glorious sites for summer residences.</l>
					<l>Tuesday May 6<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Mr Edward Jones &amp; family of N.Y. were here yesterday</l>
					<l>and are to leave for Paris this evening - persons of refined</l>
					<l>manners &amp; kind hearts, and free from the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>swell</hi> which</l>
					<l>makes so many a rich American an object of ridicule</l>
					<l>in Europe. We were to have joined Mrs Stanley and</l>
					<l>party on an excursion to the Superga this morning</l>
					<l>but could not. In the evening we went, as we</l>
					<l>did last evening, into our theatre to hear Scriveneck</l>
					<l>who is here again for a few nights. Mr Tourte and</l>
					<l>Schmidthals came to our box, and it seemed quite like</l>
					<l>winter gaieties again.</l>
					<l>Wednesday May 7<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>A most quiet day at home - disturbed only by</l>
					<l>anxiety about affairs <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>at</hi> in our own country which look</l>
					<l>less promising. May the hearts of our people grow strong</l>
					<l>in proportion to the danger that threatens within &amp; without.</l>
					<l>Thank God there are still some unselfish, truth-loving</l>
					<l>souls left even in jealous, ungenerous England. Lady Estcourt</l>
					<l>writes me to-day, &quot;I watch the Federal successes with the utmost</l>
					<l>loyalty.&quot; and Lady Lyell writes to a friend here,</l>
					<l>Mme Pulszky,</l>
					<l>&quot;I am so pained</l>
					<l>by the <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>ungin</hi> ungenerous, the unjust, the untrue remarks</l>
					<l>which I hear in England hourly on the great American</l>
					<l>question, that I sometimes wish I could leave my country till</l>
					<l>this contest is settled, or till my countrymen show more</l>
					<l>love for truth.&quot;</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='48'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Thursday 8<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> May</l>
					<l>Staid at home all day in a sort of half expectation</l>
					<l>of Lady Estcourt&apos;s arrival from Pisa. The temperature is now</l>
					<l>most delicious - the thermometer from 70 to 75 day after day.</l>
					<l>The benefit for Scriwaneck went off very well this evening.</l>
					<l>&apos;Les brouillés depuis Wagram&apos; was extremely well done - but the</l>
					<l>court-scenes in a subsequent play were most absurd.</l>
					<l>Every body is talking about the enthusiasm and the gaiety at</l>
					<l>Naples - and if it were not for the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>money</hi> difficulty I should</l>
					<l>half regret that we are not <hi rend='underlined:true;'>there</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>to see</hi>. Rattazzi</l>
					<l>has just given great satisfaction to us protestants by confirm</l>
					<l>ing a grant of land in Naples for the site of a Protestant</l>
					<l>Church - the grant having been made by Garibaldi when he</l>
					<l>was</l>
					<l>dictator. The Minister says, that, having sent a Commission</l>
					<l>to Naples to see that no private or public wrong would be</l>
					<l>done by this gift, he is happy to say that he finds only</l>
					<l>good can come of it, and therefore an English Church</l>
					<l>may be built at once.</l>
					<l>Friday May 9<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>Mrs Tottenham told me this morning about a very</l>
					<l>low imposition practised upon Sir James Hudson by one of</l>
					<l>the young men of the French Legation some time last autumn.</l>
					<l>An extremely pretty girl carried a letter to Sir James signed</l>
					<l>by the French Legation giving a very touching history of the girl</l>
					<l>and begging Sir James to assist her to return to her friends, &amp;</l>
					<l>saying that the French Legation would be most happy to do</l>
					<l>as much in return if any English subject should</l>
					<l>at any future time</l>
					<l>be in</l>
					<l>like distress. The kind, generous-hearted Sir James talked a</l>
					<l>few moments with the girl who acted her part of <hi rend='underlined:true;'>injured</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>innocent</hi></l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='49'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>so well as to confirm entirely the statements in the letter. Sir James</l>
					<l>then sent to the French Legation - as the most delicate way of aiding</l>
					<l>the girl - by Capt. Smallwood, a sum of money quite sufficient</l>
					<l>to send her safely to her friends. A few days after Capt. Smallwood</l>
					<l>met Mademoiselle on the arm of one of the young men of the</l>
					<l>F. Legation under circumstances more than suspicious. He</l>
					<l>reported at once to Sir James, who, of course <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>at once</hi></l>
					<l>immediately</l>
					<l>sent</l>
					<l>to the proper quarter for explanations. It turned out that</l>
					<l>the interesting young person had long been living au frais</l>
					<l>of the noble employé of the French government, and whether</l>
					<l>the trick upon Sir James was merely to supply the fair one</l>
					<l>with some little bijou that her protector could not for the</l>
					<l>moment indulge her in, or whether it was a complot</l>
					<l>to injure the character of Sir James does not appear. To</l>
					<l>the credit of the F. government however the young man was</l>
					<l>at once recalled.</l>
					<l>Saturday May 10<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>My most intelligent visitor to-day was</l>
					<l>Mr Levi - deputato - an Israelite I doubt not, but</l>
					<l>a man of knowledge &amp; sense. He is in a state of</l>
					<l>intense excitement about the American struggle, and</l>
					<l>tells us, what every body tells us, that the Italians are</l>
					<l>as unanimous in their sympathy with American as they</l>
					<l>are in their determination to have a free &amp; united Italy.</l>
					<l>He is very anxious that our Government should take some</l>
					<l>steps to secure more attention &amp; more justice from the</l>
					<l>European press. He says the course of England during</l>
					<l>this rebellion of ours, and the course of the allied Powers</l>
					<l>in Mexico should teach us that our policy of non-in</l>
					<l>-terference has not saved us from the jealous hate of the</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='50'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>of the former, as well as of the latter, and henceforth we</l>
					<l>shall have to regard ourselves as most deeply concerned in</l>
					<l>European politics. In the friends of liberty we shall have</l>
					<l>friends, - in a haughty aristocracy, or in a tyrannical despo-</l>
					<l>tism, only enemies through all time. From the United States</l>
					<l>of America came the electric spark that shook the thrones of</l>
					<l>the old world in the last half century - from them came</l>
					<l>steam, from them <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>the</hi> electric telegraph, those mighty agents</l>
					<l>in human progress, and from them must come yet greater</l>
					<l>benefits to Europe.</l>
					<l>Sunday May 11<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>A little rain for a great rarity, but it did not</l>
					<l>bring the expected Secretary, Mr Clay. No telegram from</l>
					<l>America either which is a disappointment.</l>
					<l>Monday May 12<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi></l>
					<l>This morning came the long-expected Mr</l>
					<l>Clay. My imagination has been very busy ever since we</l>
					<l>heard of his appointment. Sometimes fancy has painted</l>
					<l>him a dashing, roaring young scion of the West, well acquain</l>
					<l>-ted</l>
					<l>with society as it is in those parts, at other times I have</l>
					<l>thought he might be one of the many young Americans</l>
					<l>who have travelled a good deal in Europe some with, some</l>
					<l>without profit, and sometimes I have feared he might</l>
					<l>prove a mere Gorilla. Alas for human calculations.</l>
					<l>He is not in the least like either of my fancy sketches.</l>
					<l>A tall and very handsome boy, possibly twenty one</l>
					<l>but looking younger, modest but not awkward in manner</l>
					<l>though</l>
					<l>not</l>
					<l>without certain strongly marked westernisms in</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='51'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>dress and language. He knows a very little French, but</l>
					<l>cannot speak a word of it, and Italian is a strange</l>
					<l>to him as would he the speech of the angels.</l>
					<l>There is, however, something so gentle, so confiding, in</l>
					<l>his full dark-brown eyes that he excites interest at once,</l>
					<l>and if he has the necessary energy &amp; industry to fit</l>
					<l>himself for his duties official &amp; social, he may make</l>
					<l>an accomplished man. There is, on the other hand, a</l>
					<l>certain spoiled child air about him, which makes me</l>
					<l>fear he has no habit of doing anything which is not</l>
					<l>agreeable at the moment. We shall do every thing in</l>
					<l>our power to help the young man on, but certainly</l>
					<l>to make a person of his age &amp; experience secretary</l>
					<l>of Legation seems a strange thing</l>
					<l>The Abbé Baruffi told us this evening, without</l>
					<l>expressing the least doubt as to the truth of what</l>
					<l>he was stating, that Gen Goyon <hi rend='underlined:true;'>did</hi> tell the Pope</l>
					<l>that the Emperor of the French had determined to</l>
					<l>withdraw his troops from Rome, that the Pope</l>
					<l>at once telegraphed his Nunci in Paris. The latter</l>
					<l>went instantly to the Empress who fainted on being</l>
					<l>told the news and was senseless for three quarter&apos;s of</l>
					<l>an hour. The Emperor was then induced</l>
					<l>to</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>delay</hi> the</l>
					<l>withdrawal. The Abbé however evidently believes the day</l>
					<l>near at hand, and his means of knowledge as a priest, and</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='52'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>his sympathy for the Pope make us attach some weight</l>
					<l>to his opinion.</l>
					<l>Tuesday, 13<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> May</l>
					<l>We were to have fled into the wilderness to-day</l>
					<l>to give Moses a chance to take up his carpets - Moses,</l>
					<l>whom we have kept off for a fortnight, - Mr Marsh says</l>
					<l>by means of bacon-fumes - but in fact by prayers and promises -</l>
					<l>from taking possession of his precious floor-cloths.</l>
					<l>We did want to escape the confusion of this household</l>
					<l>change from winter to summer, but when at last, the</l>
					<l>all-important Alex - was cured of his boil and the lagging</l>
					<l>secretary had arrived and was taught how to visá</l>
					<l>a passport, then the envious heavens grew black, and</l>
					<l>unless we go in thunder lightning &amp; in rain we must</l>
					<l>give it up till to-morrow.</l>
					<l>Wednesday 14<hi rend='superscript:true;'>th</hi> May</l>
					<l>Still a pouring rain and we are obliged to</l>
					<l>admit Shylock as we dare not make further promises.</l>
					<l>The confusion is edifying. Mr Sidney Brooks comes</l>
					<l>in the midst of it, and to my great comfort hears Mr</l>
					<l>M&apos;s opinion of the <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>truly</hi> true policy of our Gov. Fortunately</l>
					<l>Mr Brooks is a true gentleman &amp; therefore may be talked</l>
					<l>with even on subjects upon which one differs from him.</l>
					<l>Between 2 &amp; 5 the clouds break a little &amp; the sun</l>
					<l>looks faintly out. Thereupon a rush of visitors such</l>
					<l>as I have not had for a week - one or two I</l>
					<l>not a little sorry to miss - Madame Farina for instance - </l>
					<l>but admission at that moment was out of the question</l>
					<l>there not being a quiet corner in which to seat her.</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='53'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Just after dinner came Miss Arbesser and was of course</l>
					<l>told I did not receive etc, etc, but she courageously in-</l>
					<l>sisted that her name should be taken to me, and</l>
					<l>as my own reading-cabinet was reduced to something</l>
					<l>like order we &apos;took her in&apos;. She was full of enthusiasm</l>
					<l>as usual, and said she had quantities of curious</l>
					<l>things to tell</l>
					<l>me,</l>
					<l>only she could not stay this time, as she</l>
					<l>had another visit to make and must be at the</l>
					<l>palace again at eight. Just then a most blinding</l>
					<l>flash of lightning with thunder to match, followed</l>
					<l>by a mild type of deluge, decided her to give up</l>
					<l>the other visit &amp; I was to send her home in the</l>
					<l>carriage a little before eight. Among other experiences</l>
					<l>since our last evening together, she had been to see</l>
					<l>Madame Pasta once so celebrated in the musical</l>
					<l>world. While waiting in the drawing-room for the</l>
					<l>old lady to appear, she occupied herself with studying</l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>of</hi> a portrait of the artist taken when she was at</l>
					<l>the zenith of her fame. She describes it as remarkably</l>
					<l>lovely, and says she was just saying to herself, &quot;no</l>
					<l>wonder my father admired her so much!&quot; when</l>
					<l>a round little old woman rolled in, with a</l>
					<l>moustache that would have excited the envy of most</l>
					<l>young men of twenty five, and a voice rough as</l>
					<l>an old admirals - and this was Pasta! She found</l>
					<l>her lively &amp; pleasant, and ready to talk of the past, but</l>
					<l>could not discover one remant of the grace &amp; taste that</l>
					<l>that [sic] might have been looked for even when her beauty had</l>
					<l>utterly faded. Pasta has a daughter married to a very respectable</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='54'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>engineer in Turin, and <hi rend='underlined:true;'>they</hi> have a daughter whose is said</l>
					<l>to</l>
					<l>have</l>
					<l>something of her grandmother&apos;s talent for music. This child</l>
					<l>receives lessons from Madame Unio, wife of Unio the court-pianist,</l>
					<l>who also gives lessons to the princess Margaret. Miss Arbesser,</l>
					<l>who had heard of the extraordinary performances of this child, and</l>
					<l>who knew her parents to be in every way <hi rend='underlined:true;'>honorable</hi> if not noble,</l>
					<l>asked Madame Unio if she would not bring her little pupil</l>
					<l>some day to play for the princess. The teacher promised to do</l>
					<l>so the next time she came to give Madame Margaret a lesson</l>
					<l>which would be the day but one following. In the mean</l>
					<l>time Miss Arbesser spoke incidentally of the arrangement to the Duchess.</l>
					<l>Her R.H. exclaimed - &quot;Oh, my dear, that will never do! You must</l>
					<l>indeed make some excuse! - it will never do!&quot; Miss A, was</l>
					<l>confounded - &quot;Will your R.H. explain?&quot; &quot;Why, I should at once</l>
					<l>be called to account for such a breach of court-etiquette.&quot;</l>
					<l>&quot;But it would be no breach [of etiquette] for a princess of the house</l>
					<l>of Austria, or of England to listen to the playing of a talented child of</l>
					<l>her own age even if she were not noble.&quot; &quot;You are <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>quite</hi></l>
					<l>very</l>
					<l>right&quot; said the Duchess, &quot;but <hi rend='underlined:true;'>here</hi>, I assure you it is quite different</l>
					<l>If that or any other little girl of Madame Margaret&apos;s age, not nobly</l>
					<l>born, should be introduced into the palace in the way you</l>
					<l>propose, depend upon it, it would cause me much annoyance.&quot;</l>
					<l>Her Royal Highness then went on to say that, last summer at</l>
					<l>Stresa Count Borromeo brought with him his own little son</l>
					<l>[and] the son of a Milanese friend of his to see the child duke</l>
					<l>of Genoa. The governors of the little Duke found out</l>
					<l>somehow, that the little playmate of the young Borromeo</l>
					<l><hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>wh</hi> was not of noble blood, and such was the storm</l>
					<l>raised about it that she herself was obliged to tell Count</l>
					<l>Borromeo the whole affair and beg him not to bring the child again!</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='55'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>torino il di 19 Maggio</l>
					<l>Egregia Signora!</l>
					<l>Czedendo che il tempo pesco e piovoso le aura facto diferire l&apos;escunkone biellese,</l>
					<l>mi pametto presentarle il noro romanzo americano, l&apos; Allumeur de reverbirel</l>
					<l>di cui Ella mi fece molsi encomi.</l>
					<l>Le auguro di more una paite della viva soddisfazione che ho gustato nel</l>
					<l>leggere questo grazioto libretto tutte le paqine spirano religione, benevo leuza,</l>
					<l>civilia vera; Ella vi trovera probabilmente qualche cosa di piu nella pettura</l>
					<l>di una societa e di luoghi a lei maggiorenente nos?. Gli u?oni cap??oli</l>
					<l>poi mi hanno commosso specialmente fino a farmi vorpare lagrime</l>
					<l>in copia. Le piccole macchie del libro sono dovute al fango di cui</l>
					<l>pirono imbrattate le mie pooere camere nella triste circopanza dell&apos; incendto.</l>
					<l>Aggadisca l&apos;espre?zone della mia passicolare considerazione, mi zammenti</l>
					<l>al degnipimo di lei Sigi Consorte e mi onori di credermi sempre</l>
					<l>Della S.U. primar??</l>
					<l>devos?? ed a?tez Servisore</l>
					<l>G F Baruffi</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='56'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>Poor Miss Arbesser was obliged to go in person to Madame Unio</l>
					<l>and then to the parents of the little prodigy to explain and</l>
					<l>apologize as she best could. After hearing this story I could</l>
					<l>not help exclaiming, &quot;Is it possible that this is the Italian Court</l>
					<l>in the nineteenth century - and <hi rend='underlined:true;'>reformed</hi> Italy too.&quot; &quot;Oh,&quot; said</l>
					<l>Miss A. &quot;you shall hear more - and I will bring you proofs</l>
					<l>too! you cannot come to me on account of your health - so</l>
					<l>I will bring you some of the Jesuit books which the</l>
					<l>poor princess had to use as text-books when I first came</l>
					<l>to the palace. Yes, you shall see them with your own</l>
					<l>eyes, or I should scarcely expect to be believed even by a</l>
					<l>Protestant. You shall see how all history is falsified</l>
					<l>how some of the most infamous crimes that have ever</l>
					<l>disgraced humanity are - not palliated, excused - but</l>
					<l>justified, commended, as done in God&apos;s service. And</l>
					<l>what think you this unhappy child of nine years was studying - </l>
					<l>this child who had never been taught where London, or Berlin</l>
					<l>or Vienna was - ? The <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Revue</hi> <hi rend='underlined:true;'>Catholique</hi>! - yes, I assure</l>
					<l>you, she was expected to read every day a certain number</l>
					<l>of pages of that Review &amp; then to answer questions upon it.</l>
					<l>The unprincipled <hi rend='underlined:true;'>devote</hi> who had the charge of her</l>
					<l>seemed to hope to make up for her own shortcomings</l>
					<l>by forcing works of supererogation on her royal victim.&quot;</l>
					<l>I said, &quot;Was Her R.H. the mother, aware of all this?&quot; &quot;No,</l>
					<l>of very little of it, but even if she had been, she could</l>
					<l>not then have helped matters much. The Countess Monticello</l>
					<l>had powerful family connections at Court, and was sustained</l>
					<l>by the Codini secular &amp; ecclesiastical, the Duchess herself</l>
					<l>being looked upon with jealousy as an alien, <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>and</hi> having no</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='57'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>right to interfere with the education of the royal scions of Piedmont.</l>
					<l>Besides this, every pains had been taken to prevent any thing like [illegible]</l>
					<l>maternal &amp; filial intimacy between the mother &amp; the child.</l>
					<l>The Duchess had been told that her child was passionate &amp; obstinate,</l>
					<l>the princess that her mother was not satisfied with her</l>
					<l>and that in her position it was not proper that she should be</l>
					<l>troubled with children.&quot; &quot;And how,&quot; I said, &quot;was a change effected?&quot;</l>
					<l>&quot;The medical attendant of Madame Margaret became satisfied</l>
					<l>that she was very unhappy, &amp; that her strange reserve was not</l>
					<l>natural. At last he succeeded in drawing from her one morning,</l>
					<l>as an explanation of her paleness &amp; languor, the fact that she had</l>
					<l>had no breakfast. The doctor asked further, and the princess</l>
					<l>confessed that she had had but <hi rend='underlined:true;'>three</hi> breakfasts during the winter,</l>
					<l>and this for punishment for various offences, but generally for failure</l>
					<l>in prayers &amp; catechisms. The doctor went directly to the duchess</l>
					<l>and told he had long suspected that the young princess was treated</l>
					<l>with too much severity by her gouvernante, that he was now</l>
					<l>certain of it. The duchess took counsel of friends and <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>Miss Arbesser</hi></l>
					<l>I</l>
					<l>was recommended to her. She wrote to me at once, giving her</l>
					<l>reasons for being dissatisfied with the Countess Monticello, but</l>
					<l>saying at the same time she could not offer me her</l>
					<l>place - that she could only get permission to have a</l>
					<l>young lady with the princess as <hi rend='underlined:true;'>institutrice</hi> but the Countess</l>
					<l>must still be <hi rend='underlined:true;'>gouvernante</hi>. I came for three months</l>
					<l>by way of experiment. Before I had been in the palace</l>
					<l>one month I went one morning to my writing-desk &amp;</l>
					<l>turning over some papers it struck me that they must have</l>
					<l><hi rend='underlined:true;'>visited</hi> by some one. I searched further &amp; found certain</l>
					<l>letters missing - among them the very letter first written me by</l>
					<l>the duchess. I examined my key as I drew it out - there was</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='58'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>wax upon it. I went to her R.H. and told what I had</l>
					<l>discovered. I knew it might be thought an intrigue of</l>
					<l>my own, but I trusted in truth to vindicate herself. The</l>
					<l>duchess immediately summoned the maids of all the ladies who</l>
					<l>had access to her own <hi rend='strikethrough:true;'>app</hi> apartments and examined</l>
					<l>them</l>
					<l>very strictly and with great dexterity. The Countess Mon-</l>
					<l>-ticello&apos;s woman confessed that, at the direction of her</l>
					<l>mistress, she had taken an impression in wax from</l>
					<l>my <hi rend='underlined:true;'>lock</hi> &amp; from the <hi rend='underlined:true;'>keys</hi> of the duchess herself! This brought</l>
					<l>matters to a crisis. The Countess was told that when her presence</l>
					<l>was again desired at court she would be sent for.</l>
					<l>I then told her R.H. that I was satisfied I could be of no</l>
					<l>real service to the princess if I was to be under the</l>
					<l>direction of a gouvernante, &amp; though I was quite contented</l>
					<l>with the name of institutrice, I could only retain my</l>
					<l>position with the understanding that I was to have no superior</l>
					<l>but herself in the management of Madame Margaret.</l>
					<l>This was settled and I now remain till some Jesuitical</l>
					<l>intrigue displaces me.&quot; And I said to myself, &apos;that will</l>
					<l>not be long if you are dealing frankly with me&apos;.</l>
					<l>Miss Arbesser then gave me a description of the way</l>
					<l>in which the princess was taught to pray - the things</l>
					<l>prayed for, the length of time given to it, the litany</l>
					<l>to be repeated on her knees by way of punishment etc</l>
					<l>all of which she persuaded the duchess to become</l>
					<l>an unseen eye-and-ear-witness of. Not very long after</l>
					<l>the retirement of the Countess Monticello, the princess,</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='59'/>
			<p>
				<lg>
					<l>in one of her moments expansion said to Miss A -</l>
					<l>I give Miss A&apos;s own words. &quot;Mademoiselle,</l>
					<l>I was very wicked before you came to me - I was</l>
					<l>indeed - I was so wicked that I dared not even tell</l>
					<l>my confessor, but I will tell you. I used to</l>
					<l>pray God to kill that naughty Countess - I could</l>
					<l>not help it!&quot;</l>
				</lg>
			</p>
			<pb n='60'/>
		</body>
	</text>
</TEI>
