Caroline Crane Marsh Diaries, 1862

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See also Introduction 1861 1863 1864 1865

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A wearysome and unsatisfactory way of passing the first day of the New Year - receiving and sending off cards from early morning until time to dress for the Opera. The Teatro Reggio was very brilliant tonight. It was not our evening but Rustem Bey obligingly asked us to his box. The Teatro was illuminated a giorno and the toilettes of the ladies were splendid. The king entered the royal box about nine attended by his suite and accompanied by his son, the heir apparent and by the Duchess of Genoa with her ladies. The house rose and the vivas for the Re d’Italia were most hearty, but not so frenzied as would have been heard in the more Southern and the more excitable cities of the new kingdom. The king looked very kingly. One cannot help when one sees him assenting most fully to the remark he himself is said to have made on looking at one of the photographs of himself which have been so unmercifully multiplied–“Ah! je suis laid! mais je ne suis pas si laid!” He certainly is not handsome and it is not often that one sees so ugly a profile, but he is manly and dignified in his bearing and the whole character of his face is highly energetic and sensible. His dress was a military one, not very showy. The young prince, who had the misfortune to sit between his father and the Prince Carigano, both men of extraordinary size - looked very small, but though his face is very plain, it is serious and thoughtful, and he bore himself extremely well. The Ministry generally attended the king, most of them in very rich uniforms. Ricasoli alone was in plain clothes except the collar and a single star. The appearance of this man was very striking. He did not mix much in the quiet talk that was going on around him, but stood a little aside with an expression so calm, so self-reliant, or perhaps I should have better said, so heaven-reliant that it could hardly fail to impress every one. Every body says that he cannot sustain himself in his unflinching policy and that he must yield to a more flexible man. This is very possible, but that he will never bend himself, both friend and foe admit. He is certainly a Roman of the old Romans. The Duchess was blazing with diamonds and rubies. Her dress was pink moirĂ©e with a profusion of white lace. The diadem was really gorgeous. Her ladies were too far to the right for me to see them well. The Royal party staid through the ballet and then retired together. Among the spectators of notoriety was General TĂŒrr in full Garibaldian uniform. His beautiful bride of the Bonaparte house, whose unblushing mother persisted in calling her Wyse, was at his side. She was in light blue tarleton with a wreath of blush roses on her hair. She is very pretty certainly but but [sic] those who know her sister, the Princesse de Laulmes, say that the latter is greatly superior in beauty. The Comtesse Larterana [Sartirana] de BrĂȘme was also very conspicuous for her beauty. Madame Benedetti whore [wore] a magnificent coronet of diamonds on black velvet, and more becoming still the sweet lovely smile for which she is remarkable.

Another day wasted in the empty ceremony of sending cards, and this weary work added to the weariness from the Opera, and sad news from family friends at home made the day a heavy one.

Turin papers are full of discussions as to what will be done and will not be done about the Ministry. Parliament met again to-day after a recess and found the Ministry still incomplete. Ricasoli will not give up the Foreign portfolio for fear that a tool of France may take his place. Nor will he have a Minister of the Interior who will not work with him. He will probably be broken down, though it is understood that he says he will never leave his post till his king and his country intimate a wish to have him do so.

This morning my réunion was quite brilliant, and very pleasant. The Countess Gattanara was one of my new visitors. She was very richly dressed and is very beautiful, with manners that set off her dress and person. She staid with me an hour and I found her more cultivated than I suppose is common among the fashionable Piedmontese. The Comtesse Mari, a Florentine, is also a very bright and pleasing person. Madame Peruzzi came with her husband who is one of the Ministry. He is a quiet, fine looking man, and showed his wife off to disadvantage, She being more noisy and less lady like than when she came to me before. She told Madame Benedetti that she was very glad to see they had given out invitations for the 9th and 23rd as she thought it was quite time they began. The Duchess Bevilacqua di Masa came later with the Countess Pulszky. She is from Venitia, though of a Piedmontese family, and is a woman of much though [t] and much brain to think with. She says Italy is now in a crise and evidently feels a good deal of uneasiness. A word from England to Austria she thinks would set Venitia free and that then Italy would soon be in a condition less dependant on France. The Princesse St Lorenzo of Naples is a delicate pretty woman of perhaps thirty, very refined in manner. The Hochschilds were with us in the evening besides our usual set. Dr and Madame Monnet, among our new guests pleased me particularly. Dr Monnet is a Vaudois, physician to the French Legation, a quiet gentlemanly man, in very moderate circumstances, and his wife, an English woman of culture, has the courage to add to their income, by giving instruction in English literature, half lessons - half lectures. She would not come to us, till she had assured herself through Mrs Stanley, that this fact would be to us no objection to her socially. I liked her extremely.

For myself a very quiet day, but Mr Marsh was obliged to go out, and Carrie too had to spend an hour at the Benedetti’s. These Saturday receptions relieve me from Sunday visits at least, though some Sunday visiting must be done, it being the only day on which many of the most prominent persons in society receive. I cannot understand how rational people live without one day in the week wherein to feed their own interior life.

At three today the Countess Cigala came to see me, by appointment, having previously sent me word that she wished to make my acquaintance, but having just lost her brother and mother she could not come to me on Saturday, the forty days not having yet expired during which [illegible] it would not be considered proper for her to be seen at a réunion. She is an English woman emphatically of the world, but seems kindly and sensible. Our home news is pacific so far as England is concerned, but nobody seems to fear war with England if she takes a tone to force us into it.

Mr Marsh and Carrie were both out this evening, Carrie at a little dance, Mr Marsh at Baron Ricasoli’s. The rĂ©union there was very pleasant. Ricasoli placid as a summer sea, notwithstanding all the muttering thunder about him. Among other gentlemen, Mr Marsh met a distinguished Spaniard España; ‘Liberale quoiqu’ Espagnol’ as he himself said. Baron Tecco was also there, almost a stranger at home, after so many years of diplomatic life.

Today another vote has been taken in a sort of Parliamentary caucus, which proves that the majority are determined to sustain the Ministry. So Ricasoli has triumphed once more. With his straitforward, unyielding policy, courting no favors, regardless of reproaches, he proves a hard subject to uproot. If he can but have time he will do much towards stren strengthening the new government.

This morning we have telegraphic news of the surrender of Mason and Slidell. Perhaps Europe will learn some day that if the United States are governed by a mob, it is a lawloving, justice-loving mob, that is ready to abide by its own previously declared principles, even when such adherence may be contrary to its apparent interests. We went this morning to a semi-ball at the French Ministers. The company was not large and consisted of much the same persons as we are in the habit of seeing at our own apartments. The ladies were well dressed and many very pretty, the Countess Gattinara and the Countess Sartirana de Breme being among the most showy. Madame Benedetti as usual was most graceful and gracious - in one sense at least she is certainly a crown to her husband. Lord Hubert de Burg was the only representative of the English Legation - an odd-looking person enough, but I rather liked him. I had considerable conversation with the Prussian Minister if conversation that may be called which consists of the whole category of society’s most common common-places. He is every evidently a man of very good sense, fully impressed with the conviction that women are simpletons and rather bores at that. If I had not had an old dame of the haute-societĂ© by my side whom it was necessary to consider, and who prevented our colloquy from being a duet, I should have tried to measure the man a little more accurately. As it was I could only assent or dissent, as the case might be, to or from the opinions of this grave diplomatist as to whether a lady’s dress was best seen at the opera or a Ball. The discussion was unimpassioned on both sides. With de Bunsen I had a few rational words, but his cleared-headed father with his acute moral sense, would, I fancy, have been a little shocked to hear his son attempt to justify rulers in doing what in private individuals would be justly regarded as dishonorable, even false. What can we expect from governments when the best of their agents hold such opinions! With Gen. Menabrea I exchanged the usual formalities of presentation and with a good many other conspicuous men. Poerio was in his best vein, cheerful but serious. Ricasoli I missed altogether as he was surrounded constantly, but Mr Marsh had a few moments with him. He spoke of his recent triumph with calm satisfaction - said he should never leave his post till fairly voted down, his policy he would not change for any human considerations, being satisfied that his course was the best he was capable of devising. When his king and his country decided against him he should retire cheerfully to a life better suited to his taste.

Prince Oscar of Sweeden, grandson of Bernadotte, honored the Teatro d’Angennes with his presence this evening. We had no idea that he was to he there, but went in ourselves to hear the famous Scriveneck [Scriwaneck]. Presently several gentlemen entered the stage-box just opposite our own, one of whom immediately fixed our attention. He did not strike us as handsome, but no one could fail to perceive that he was a person of distinction. His Titianesque head has all the characteristics of the southern races. It was not till we noticed who attended him however that the thought of the newly-arrived prince flashed upon us. General Della Rocca, Count Nigra, Marquis de Breme and a large number of the principal men of the Court entered and left the box from time to time. The Duchess and her ladies were also present but on our side so that we could not see them. Mme. Scriveneck was admirable as the little Duke de Richelieu, and the prince clapped her enthusiastically.

My first visitors this morning were the Marquise Doria & the Countess Avogadro. After a few minutes of formal enquiry &c the storm broke forth. For some days past Mme Benedetti has been the subject of much sharp comment on the part of the ladies of the society, for her delay in making the usual advances required. At her soirĂ©e one of the ladies whose acquaintance she had made, whether regularly or irregularly does not appear, offered to present her on occasion of the court ball to some of the principal ladies of the Haute SocietĂ© if she desired it. Madame Benedetti replied that she was much obliged, but she must consult Mr Benedetti, and accordingly went to him at once. Mr Benedetti returned to to [sic] the lady with Madame, and said, that ‘Madame Benedetti was very reconnaissante etc etc but, though she would be happy to know the ladies of Turn, she could not take the first step.’ This made the cup run over. Indignation meetings have been held from house to house ever since and it seems to be resolved that Madame Benedetti shall be abandoned by every dame whose relations at court do not force her to continue to frequent her as the wife of the French Minister.

A most philosophical remark of by Mr Marsh this morning must not be unrecorded. Apropos of our good Alexander’s obstinately refusing to light up in the evening till guests actually began to arrive, he says, “No man is ever ‘master in his own house’ unless he is a brute”

rough seating plan marked with

CCM to have place of honor!

The Marchesa Doria is furious. She declares that ‘to be ruled by France politically is humiliating enough, but socially we never will submit to it - never!’ I have never before seen such an exhibition of feeling on any social question and I could tell France that many a vassal has been lost to its lord on smaller provocation. It was throwing away words to insist that I knew Madame B. that she was a most amiable person, entirely without pretentio pretension. ‘Then it is France through her Minister that pretends’, was the indignant reply, and we will not, cannot bear it.’ Mr Hochschild too, it seems, has given great offence by saying what was certainly not in very good taste for a man in his position just arrived in the country, ‘that there was no danger but that the Turinese ladies would all flock round Mad. Benedetti as soon as she opened her house for dancing.’ ‘Have we no houses to dance in ourselves!’ says the fiery ignited ignited Doria. This affair is likely to place me in a very unpleant [unpleasant] position. The desire to avenge themselves on the Benedetti’s has evidently made them - the dames de societĂ© - resolve to lift me on the shield, and I am likel destined to receive marks of regard and distinction which would never have been thought of but for this unlucky business. If Mme. B__ could really know how very sincerely I wish the place of honor hers - how much I regret that she was not here before me, she would at least acquit me of all participation in any conspiracy against her. All my guests of the morning were in a state of excitement on this great subject. The de Limas, who came in the evening, said nothing about it. Carutti came for an hour - stiff in manner, but a man with whom it is a pleasure to talk. Capt Crowther, an old half-pay English officer of more than fourscore, erect and vigorous and full of old-world memories was also here. The Countess Salino, who is one of the most intelligent persons I have met among the P. aristocracy, came with Mrs Stanley & Mrs Codrington who also brought a nice Italian officer & an English youth of eighteen perhaps - what boy was ever nice at that age! Poerio was in his usual calm cheerful mood, his conversation being strongly marked by poetic fancies and allusions. Most of the Prussian Legation were here.

Mr Solvyns, the new minister from Belgium spent an hour with us after church this morning - a man of sense and talent and thoroughly acquainted with America & her institutions. If his wife is like him they will indeed be an acquisition. Though he has been here but three or four days the the social revolt against France was well known to him.

The grand court ball passed off very brilliantly tonight. Everybody was there in their gayest and best. Perhaps no court in Europe now offers so much of ancient etiquette, so much of real stately aristocracy as that of Turin. Many persons who were present declare that most European courts have altogether a parvenu air when compared with this. The king himself certainly is no stickler for etiquette, but the Duchess magnifies her office and she is well sustained by the queenly dames of Piedmont. Prince Oscar looked well and danced a great deal. The Comtess St Germano made a truly Oriental display of diamonds, eclipsing even the Duchess. Mr Marsh had considerable conversation with Ricasoli on the settlement of the Trent difficulty. He expressed the liveliest satisfaction that the quiet dignity with which our governemnt had borne itself and the strongest hope that the great civil question would now be put upon its true issue, in which case he predicted the most certain success. He spoke of his own course which has lately resulted in so complete a triumph over the opposition. “I consult my own conscience and then relying upon the aid of Providence I leave consequences to Him who overrules all things.” The king also talked very familiarly with Mr Marsh for a quarter of an hour, asking very intelligent questions about America, and expressing an earnest wish to obtain some of the animals peculiar to it, as he could never hope to see them in their own wilds. Mr Marsh assured him that it could easily be done, by putting an a [sic] efficient agent in communcation with the Smithsonian Institute at Washington and promised that special interest would be taken in the matter.

Our delightful AbbĂ© found an hour for us at last this evening. He has so many acquaintances and is in such demand during the winter that we seldom get him now for more than a moment. He had been well posted up as to the Benedetti difficulties and is trying to act as peace-maker. He gave us a very ludicrous account of the Countess Masin’s agitation on the occasion of the late examination of her brother, a candidate for the bar. Her own history of it should be heard in Piedmontese to give it its true value. She says she wandered about the building in which the examination was held, in a state of great trepidation for a long time, that when finally a gentleman came out and assured her that the young man has passed the ordeal brilliantly, she was so [illegible] agitated that her knees trembled violently and she was obliged to rush into the next pastry shop where she devoured two pasticettes before she could get strength enough to go home. The AbbĂ© gave the story in genuine Piedmontese, which I am sorry I cannot write down. Speaking of a cold, he says; “You know they call it here raffreddore and they prescribe hot drinks; in Genoa they call it riscaldore and they prescribe cold drinks.” The lively savant never fails to give the doctors a slap. He told us of a building here known as the Quattro Tasse or Tazze. After long puzzling over the origine of the name, and much wondering why it was exactly quattro Tazze - why not tre why not cinque - he found that the house had once been inhabited for a time by the great Torquato Tasso, and Piedmontese ingenuity is responsible for the rest.

Another gala might at the Teatro Regio. The King came in about 9 accompanied by Prince Oscar of Sweden, Prince Umberto, Prince Carignano and the Duchess, and attended by a numerous suite. All in very rich uniform with two exceptions, Ricasoli and Ratazzi, the former of whom wore a single star, the latter, nothing so far as I could see. Several gentlemen of the Annunciata were almost literally covered with stars and ribbons. The shouts on the entrance of the royal party were deafening. The King walked quite to the front of the box with Prince Oscar at his side, both bowing graciously in answer to the cheering. Then the King sat down, Prince Oscar remaining a moment longer on his feet to make another salutation. The huzzas ceased for a moment then were frantically renewed in the hope of bringing up the King once more. But the lion-like monarch sat perfectly calm while Prince Oscar, who seemed to feel it half a duty to rise, looked now at the King as if anxious for a signal and now at the audience as if in doubt whether to accept the cheering as intended for him or not. His respect for the king would not let him rise but he was evidently embarrassed at not being in a position to acknowledge the civility more courteously the compliments which were, at least in part, intended for him. During both the Opera and the ballet, the King talked freely with the gentlemen about him especially with Ricasoli and Ratazzi. Prince Oscar was very elegant and very affable. The Duchess was well dressed as usual, - her ladies I could not see. Prince Umberto also behaved with much dignity, and talked with the gentlemen in waiting with much manliness of manner. The ladies in the boxes were dressed very tastefully, and I fancy it would be difficult to find a more aristocratic display in any part of Europe. The music was delightful - Rossini’s Othello - but few listened to it, as seeing, not hearing was the business of the evening. The great subject of gossip in the boxes was the ball of the preceeding night. It seems Madame Benedetti was not asked to dance in the contredanse d’honneur, and that this is resented by the French Embassy. The Master of ceremonies denies his responsibility in the matter and says it was left for younger men to arrange. Some say the mistake was from ignorance, some from thoughtlessness, and others believe it to be a regular court intrigue, got up by the dames de sociĂ©tĂ© to avenge themselves on Madame Benedetti. I am inclined to think the latter is the fact. Every body said, Madame Benedetti was so angry that she would not appear at the theatre. She came however, late it is true, but smiling and cheerful, without the least sign of having suffered any wrong. The Doria sat like a queen at the head of her box with her satellites about her, but she was fairly eclipsed by her sister, the quiet, gentle Del Borgo who sat opposite her. The Countess St Germano looked beautifully though time and sorrow have both left their lines. I have been told frequently that her second marriage - with the brother of her first husband was sorely against her own feelings, and was and was brought about at last only by the personal influence of the pope. There was an immense estate at stake and this marriage would annihilate all conflicting claims. Tonight a new piece of romance was added. It is stated that a strong attachment existed between the Countess and Cavour at the time this marriage of convenience was proposed, and that they had pledged themselves to each other. The Countess resisted the addresses of her brother-in-law for a long time until, it is said, that Cavour himself became satisfied that her family would never yield up the point without first destroying her happiness, and that he himself consented to give her up. A close friendship, happily not poisoned by even a breath of scandal, subsisted between him and his lost Countess until his untimely death.

By our drive to-day we missed some very desirable visitors - among them Gen. Menabrea - but we had a most glorious view of the mountains. They were marvellously clear, and Monte Rosa was blindingly gorgeous with sunlight & snow from from [sic] base to crest. We could not help longing for home friends to enjoy the sight with us. This evening we went into our own Angennes Theatre to hear Mme Scriveneck. She was admirable.

The hurry The hurry of these short days, with almost incessant interruptions by visitors, is certainly very wearying. The number of notes that must be written for one reason or other, takes half the time Carrie & I are able to get together - and all this work leaves nothing to show for it - little I am afraid in any way to compensate for it. As we were obliged to sit up rather late for half-promised visits & Mr Marsh’s eyes were too tired for reading, we concluded to see Scriveneck again, and we were well repaid. She was wonderful. Most of the pieces in which she appears are wr composed by herself and the versatility of talent she shows in acting with such perfection parts so dissimilar is really something astonishing. Soon after entering our box we noticed a lady in the private royal box just opposite us with her veil down and holding a black fan so as almost entirely to concel her face. A moment after I caught a glimpse of a gentleman behind her who kept himself entirely in the shade. As the lady turned her head a little from time to time I managed to get a half look at this mysterious figure and I soon became satisfied it was the king. He was however much disguised, and I dared not raise my glass to be more sure. The lower part of his face was much half covered but I think there was no mistaking the forehead & eyes, though we could see but indistinctly. Our conclusion was, that it was the king & the Countess Moncaliere.

My visitors to-day represented every grade in the social hierarchy except majesty itself. Prince, duchess, marquess marchioness, countess, lord, baron - not a link failed. Diplomacy too was well represented, - Mr Benedetti himself passed the evening with us, as well as some other chefs. Every body is full of the female rebellion against France - every body says every body is sorry but it must be confessed that every body seems to think find some consolation in the fact that it furnishes a change of topics of conversation, the remarkable winter, Prince Oscar, the opera & the theatre beginning to get a little threadbare. My interest in the Countess Castiglione increases with every new interview, but as she can only come to me by day I have little [illegible] chance to see her except with at least half a dozen others. The Marquise d’Arvillars & her nice daughter were among my most agreeable visitors - but the [illegible] sweet Countess Salino has impressed me with a feeling of positive affection even only on a second interview. Her cousin, the Countess Avogadro, though far more beautiful, and very gentle & graceful besides, is less attractive to me. We expected Pulszky to bring Mahlschott to us this evening but he failed for some reason. The diplomatic gentlemen believe England is now looking for another occasion to quarrel with the U.S. If this is so, and she succeeds, the sun of her greatness has set forever - let her be sure of that.

I had hoped for a quiet day but Mr Marsh was again obliged to go out after church to pay visits where they receive only on Sundays. Carrie had to go to Miss Benedetti who sees her little friends only on Sunday, and I had to receive the Baron and Baroness Todros at home. Thank God, I do not think the Christian Sunday was ever intended to be kept like the Jewish Sabbath, but I long for one day in the week which I can devote to life’s most serious interests, and the want of a Sunday is the greatest want I feel here. Todros is a Jew of immense wealth - first merchant, then banker - who and was a great favorite with Cavour who gave him his title. His wife is an English Jewess, very pretty and I should think very intelligent. They brought letters from Mr Dayton.

A new social-discord has risen, it seems. Those who know every thing say that the Countess Menabrea and Madame Peruzzi had a difficulty at the court ball as to their relative rank, and that the ladies went so far as to bestow hard names upon each other, and that non intercourse will hereafter be rigidly kept up between them. This must be very unpleasant for the two ministers. The new complication however does not seem to act as a back fire on the Benedetti trouble which thickens rather than clears up, and who can say how vast the consequences of such trivial misunderstandings may be to Italy and to the world. This thought alone makes them worth recording. I had a visit to-day from a very pretty woman whose mother was an English woman and who is herself married to an Italian. She spoke of knowing an American lady at Nice who had separated herself from her husband, and enquired if she was one of my

The story of the difficulty between the Menabrea and the Peruzzi turns out happily to be a mistake. Both the ladies it seems were incensed at the poor Marchese de Breme for not placing them properly, but neither found any fault with the other. The Todros who received the title from Cavour is probably the father of the one mentioned on the preceding page

acquaintances. I said no, and added that I had no great fancy for knowing women who could not get on with their husbands - that though I had no doubt it was impossible to live in peace with some men in anything like peace, yet the presumption was against both parties till the contrary was proved. This led to a long talk about unhappy matches, I in my innocence supposing that with my young interlocutor the honey-moon could hardly be over. After she left I was told to my dismay that her husband, jealous as a tiger, had been walking up and down the street keeping his eye on the entrance to our court during her whole visit and joining her as soon as she came out. Gossip says that he locks up her bonnets and all her visiting dresses whenever he is obliged to leave his own house, and all this, so far as I can learn, without any fault on the part of the wife except that she is pretty and that the King has been heard to say so. I sometimes fancy there is wisdom in that seemingly most absurd of all rules in fashionable life never to talk of anything but the theatre, the opera, the last ball, its dresses &c. &c.

} I had a long visit from Madame de Lima with her bright little daughter of eleven. As a proof that all Italian girls are not ignorant of the domestic arts she called my attention to her linen collar and sleeves the handiwork of Mademoiselle Arvillars, perhaps the demoiselle highest in position in Turin. The stitching was most beautiful. Madame de Lima’s little daughter said that when her lessons were over she made night caps &c in the evening. Do many American children in the position of this one learn to do plain sewing? I am afraid not. Mr Artoni gave us an interesting account of the burattini who he says are very common in Italy. A man with dramatic gifts - and few Italians are without them - commits a favorite play to memory, then before a village audience he performs the piece personating each character himself, changing voice and manner to suit the person he represents. A play is often performed in this way till the audience know it as well as the actor and Mr Artoni says it is an important means of culture for the classes who have little other opportunity for getting any thing like intellectual nahrung. The ministerial ball came off this evening. I was not well enough to venture though a comfortable place had been promised me. Mr Marsh staid for an hour or two but found the heat from the lights intolerable and came home soon after eleven. He made visits with Mrs Stanley earlier in the day. The Benedettis did not go to this ball. Every body seems to think that, though the Turinese dames are now acharnĂ©es against them, the storm will blow over without any serious consequences to any body.

The Marchesa Cusani came to-day with the Countess Marini. She said she could not come to me on saturdays as, owing to the state of her husband’s health, she did not like to be seen at rĂ©unions. She spoke of the marquis Marchese very kindly - said he had been always very considerate of her comfort and happiness, but that the match had was not a gre discreet one for her - she being but fifteen and he forty five when they whe were married. “Now” said she, “he is an infirm old man, almost helpless from paralysis - I am thirty two years old and my daughters are just beginning to need a father to guide and direct them - instead of which they must be his nurses.” I suggested that it might after all prove the most valuable possible training for them. “Yes” replied my gooo visitor, “that [illegible] hope consoles me much for their loss of the pleasures that seem more befitting their age.” The conversation of this lady on her domestic position was exactly that of any kind-hearted friend of both parties might have been expected to be, but for a wife it seemed to me most singular. She is a person highly esteemed in society, and I have no doubt a very worthy woman - this marriage de convenance having turned out better than usual. - In the evening Mr M. & Carrie went to the Opera, I to bed.

Mr Hunter, brother of Mr Hunter of the State Department, was here to-day on his way to Naples. He did not seem as hopeful about our country as we could have wished, and was evidently much irrited [irritated] by the course of some of the more important European Powers towards us, especially that of England. He complained also bitterly of improper appointments - and named newly arrived consuls, who spoke freely in defence of the South. Strange times these! This evening we went to the French Ministers. The company was quite large enough for comfort, the ladies beautifully dressed and Mme Benedetti lovely & amiable as ever. The great body of the Turinese aristocracy however were certainly not there. Mr Dillon, our amiable secretary, accosted me, almost as soon as I entered the drawing [illegible] room, very civilly and said he had a question to put me, which, as a party concerned, he had no doubt I could answer. He then added, “A friend said to me to-day,”You have no right to censure as you do the acts of your own Government,” and he had the frankness to say besides, “the Government at whose expense you live.” “Now,” continued Mr Dillon, “I understand that as Secretary of Legation here, I have no right to censure what the American Legation does here, but I hold myself free to say what I please about our Government in other matters. Am I right.” If at “What,” I said, “do you understand to be the object of our Government in sending representatives abroad? Is it not to strengthen that Government and make it respectable in the eyes of other nations? I must tell you frankly, Mr Dillion, if my husband were to put me such a case of conscience, I should say at once, if you cannot speak in defence of your own country, if you cannot at least abstain from condemnation, you are bound by every principle of common honor to resign and go home - or go to a country you can speak well of.” My questioner looked a little confounded, and then said, laughingly, “I shall appeal.” Very well, I confess myself fallible - but let me hear from you the result of your appeal”. He went to Mr Marsh and got much the same answer. We had heard before of his abuse of the American Government - in CaffĂ©s and other public places, and Mr Fagnani had expressed to Mr Artoni his indignation at Mr D.s course. I have no doubt it was he who spoke his mind to him to so freely and Dillon came to us by way of anticipation. This evening the Marchesa Montezemoli, a Russian by birth and education who married a highly respectable Italian, the last Piedmontese governor of Nice, asked to be presented to me. I have tried modestly to escape this honor, but to-night there was no dodging. She certainly appeared much better than the account I had heard of her led me to expect. Her dress was rich and not in bad taste, and she did not give me the history of her marriage and the dreadful disappointment she sustained in finding that the magnificent old castle, for which she exchanged [illegible] her liberty, was almost entirely bare of furniture and that the Marchese himself was scarcely the possessor of a change of linen. These details she is said to give to most of her new acquaintances. Fortunately if all were true, her own princely fortune would not be impaired by furnishing both the castle and the wardrobe of the Marchese, and most people think he would have the worst of the bargain at that. My first impressions however would lead me to think there must be gross exaggeration as to her peculiarities. I must confess I am sometimes a little puzzled to reconcile my charity and my logic. It is very hard for me to believe that the persons I meet here in society are guilty of the sins laid to their charges. by But disbelieving this, I am driven to acknowledge that, if there are no evil-doers, there is a prodigious number of liars.

Mr Marsh had some conversation with Ricasoli with reference to the Sumter, which has recently been coaling at Cadiz, and then entering the Mediterranean burned and sunk several vessels. The baron expressed his suppri surprise that she should have been permitted to refit and take in supplies in a Spanish port, and if he can control it she will find small comfort on the Italian coast. We heard Mme Scriveneck this evening, but she was less brilliant than usual.

Old & new acquaintances came in as usual this morning - among the new was the Greek Minister Gen. Callerghi [Kallergis] accreditted to Turin & Paris, with his secretary, Mr Roque, both very Greek. Three pretty countesses, too, whom I have not seen before, and and [sic] the Count & Countess Farcito both seemingly very nice people. The Doria was full of the Benedetti difficulty, but more calm than last saturday. The Turin papers have at last taken up the matter, speaking however in the mysterious language of the ancient oracles, so that to understand implies much much prevision. The Marchesa intreats that I will have dancing at my receptions, and assures me she can obviate all objections. In the evening the number was about as last saturday eve - and the ices fell short. Gen. Menebrea was here for the first time in the evening, the veteran Visconti & the Baroness for the third. The young people set up the most pathetic petitions to be allowed to dance at the next réunion and I suppose we must consent to have the trouble of it, if they are willing to get on with the small space they can have. I could not keep my thoughts all the evening from a distressing circumstance told me just as the servants were lighting up the drawing room. The mistress of the family in the piano above us, who was confined 8 days ago and was supposed to be doing well the last time I inquired for her, had been taken suddenly with fatal symptoms, had received the last consolations of her church and was fast passing away, leaving a boy of 4 or 5 years beside the infant. It seemed dreadful to me to contrast the gaity of my room with the mourning & distress about above me, and though we had never met this family, and could hear nothing from their appet appartment nor they from ours, still it seemed to me heartless to hear of dancing mirth at such a moment. I would certainly have refused to receive if I had known the sad circumstances earlier. But what was my quiet company, all of whom left at eleven, to the bal-masqué that was going on all night in the theatre under the same roof! I could not sleep - for though no sound reached us from the mourning & the dying, faint tones of music & laughter came from the revellers, and I was afraid they might disturb the suffering family.

The young wife and mother left her husband and family at midnight - the masqueraders staid till six this morning. - - We had no visitors to-day. The weather continues very mild, the thermometer not varying 10 deg. in as many days. The very little snow which has fallen on two occasions wh disappeared almost as soon as it came and in a very odd way. Hundreds of persons were at once employed in sweeping and shovelling it up into heaps - then came others with carts, loaded them with the snow, and then driving to certain large holes which were opened in the middle of some of the principal streets, they there emptied the contents into drains which conduct to the river. In this way the snow is all disposed of in a few hours the mouths of the drains are closed, and every appearance of winter has vanished. This season has not no doubt been an uncommonly mild one. October with us often brings worse weather than we have yet seen here.

The Roman question seems to have taken a step in advance. The late demonstration in the old capital has called out anew the sympathy of the rest of Italy, and the last note of the French emperor looks like coming to some decision. Never man more puzzled his age than this same emperor. If the English press had not stamped itself forever as the most mendacious that ever disgraced a Christian country we could believe no good of him. As it is, his acts are certainly of a far higher and les more generous character outwardly, than those of the government across the channel - his motives must be left to another tribunal.

England, it appears, has model modestly asked our government to allow the troops with which she is filling Canada by way of menace to us, to pass through the state of Maine! This reminded us at once of the letter sent by the Arab to the French Commandant of a fortress in Algeria. After the most violent espressions of denunciation and defiance accompanied with a declaration that he would attack him at the head of his tribe as soon as they should be well provided with arms & ammunition - he closes his amiable missive with a request for a ch cachmere shawl and a supply of powder and ball! The ready courtesy with which this remarkable request has been granted by Mr Seward ought to prove to that haughty selfish power that if her late disgraceful conduct towards us has cured us of our love for her it has failed to inspire us with fear. Let her take her troops where she likes - and we dare even facilitate her folly. In case of war Canada would be ours in spite of all the troops that England could command. From the south she might do us much mischief, but she could not defend a narrow strip of land 2000 miles in length.

Drove out to-day to get a look at the mountains, so grand in this beautiful sunlight & snow. The whole chain is covered almost to the base, but on the plain there is still little snow. The ladies are already beginning to drive out in open carriages as if spring were here. Mrs Stanley gives me a curious history of the Marchesa Pallavicino which I should be glad to have certified as Mrs S. had hardly dared vouch for it herself. It is however believed here that this lady is the one spoken of with so much admiration in the famous Picciola, - that the Marchese married her almost as soon as he was released from prison. It is certain at least that she is the Florence Nightingale of Italy. Mr Marsh was much pleased on his first interview with her and I hope to learn more of her when we have closer personal relations with her.

The notable Marquise de Montezemoli paid me a visit this morning. I found her a fine looking woman even by day-light and her conversation, which was in very good English, was agreeable and more than usually intelligent. She ventured fearlessly beyond the the weather and the theatre and the balls prospective & retrospective, and was really quite refreshing. I am curious how she will wear. This evening we went to the Teatro Regio for Nambuco [Nabucco] & a new ballet. This first was tolerable the latter admirable. General Menabrea spent a hour in our box - a man who could not fail to interest even the stranger who should not know him as the heroic engineer at the siege of Gaeta. In the course of our pleasant talk he said he said “I want grace not force in a woman.” I smiled and thought - what I did not say - “alas, poor woman! how large a portion of her mortal life demands force or she sinks to a worthless thing, a wretched trifler or a wretched slave.” This is the second time I have heard a truly great man utters utter the same unconsciously selfish sentiment. They would have woman cultivate exclusively those graces which charm them during the brief hours in which she can represent as the French say - and then when the days of darkness come - and God only knows how many there are for her - what has she to fall back upon! Husband & children? perhaps she has neither - or if she has, when the graces which were all she possessed are gone, she is even to them only an object of pity, or at best of affectionate pity.

Bright sun to-day - Thermometer F-t 50 in the open air at 4 P.M. The only daughter of the grand old Plana spent two long hours with me to-day. She gave me something of her own sad history which chimed in strongly wht with the thoughts suggested by the remark of Gen. Menabrea. “I was brought up after the old Turinese manner, never allowed to have, or at least to express a wish of my own. My parents are not to be blamed - no other way was thought of as possible. I looked to marriage as something likely to give me more freedom, at least so much as to allow me to go out without some one to look after me. I was married very young to a man my parents thought likely to make me a kind and respectable husband - he had wealth and a title and seemed unobjectionable. I did not know him - had I done so I might possibly have been able to make up my mind to accept even his worst qualities. As it was the disappointment - the shock was more than a poor weak ignorant young thing as I was could indure. I staid with my husband twenty three days and then took refuge with my father and mother. I told them my story - my father took me with my mother to Rome, we staid six months trying to get my case fairly before the proper ecclesiastical tribunal.” Here I cannot attempt to follow the language of this unhappy woman. Would to heaven some of our Protestant sympathisers with this precious Pio Nono and his minions could hear this tale (from the mounth mouth of a Roman Catholic too) as I heard it. The espressions of loathing and abhorrence with which she spoke of the heartlessness, the venality, the ad ambition, the jealousy, the vileness of the dignitaries of the Romish Church are too strong to repeat. Making every allowance for her own great excitement the facts she stated as coming under her father’s personal observation are enough to stagger the stoutest defender of the Papacy. This was in the first popular year of the present incumbent. Disgusted and hopeless the parents returned with their only child, their suit denied, not because unreasonable but because Monsignore tel would not favor it because Monsignore autre did so. “Une existence crisĂ©e - qu’est que c’est Ă  eux! Un vieux pire au desespoir - cela ne les touche pas! Ce sont des coeurs de pierre, et encore pire - mon Dieu! encore pire!” This unfortunate woman might write a most curious history of this her life if she would, and I begged her at least to record her experiences in the great Christian capital if not for the eyes of this generation for the benefit of later truth seekers. Poor creature - no grace except God’s grace can help her now. A little strength, a little intellectual force, a mind so developed as to be able to fall back upon its own wealth would be the greatest conceivable blessings to her - but no - men say “All we want in woman is the gentle graces.” Whether these are all she wants is a question most men forget to ask. One would think a father’s heart would put it sometimes.

Mr Marsh went to a chasse royale at Racconigi this morning and returned at five in the evening, having bagged three or four pheasants as a proof of his prowess on this days slaughter of the

A menu is pasted on the page
Menu
Dejeuner Ă  Raconis
1er FĂ©vrier 1862.


Potage de croĂ»tes gratinees aux Choux Filet de Bauf Ă  la Rossini Poulardes aux Racines Perdreaux aux Olives BigarĂ© de Veau et Foie gras Ă  la gelee Laitues Ă  la CondĂ© Jambon et Mortadella RĂŽti de Pintades piquĂ©es - Salade Patisserie assortie Dessert Glace - CrĂȘme Ă  la Vanille Lilo Junck Turin

innocents. The weather was perfectly spring-like and brought me in consequence a host of visitors - between thirty and forty. The thing that I greatly dreaded came upon me - Madame Benedetti and the lofty and indignant Marchesa Doria met in my room. After the declaration of Mr Benedetti that Madame Benedetti would be happy to know such ladies as desired to be presented to her and no others, and the declaration of the Doria, that she would not know Madame Benedetti unless she (Mad. B) expressed a wish to be presented to her, there was nothing left for me but to let matters take their course. Unluckily several ladies whom I had not before seen came in one moment before Madame B__ . came. I had just seated them near me but had not exchanged a single word with them except “Good morning” Madame B__ . had to take a seat a little farther from me but I gave her my first attention, talking with her only for two or three minutes. The other half dozen ladies present sat in perfect silence. The Marchesa Doria, though she had an acquaintance at her side seemed changed to marble. I then turned from Madame B__ . and addressed a few words to the Marchesa Pallavicino who was at my side and whom I had not seen before. While we spoke together all the other ladies preserved the same stately silence. I was annoyed beyond measure and was just turning to speak again to Madame B__ . when she rose evidently discomposed and wished me ‘good morning’ saying she would see me again some other time. After she went out the Doria commented upon the short visit etc. to which I made no reply and appeared not to hear, renewing my conversation with the Pallavicino, who, however, had the courage to say that she thought the Turinese ladies did not show proper courtesy to Madame B__ . I said that the difficulty was greatly to be regretted - that I could not presume to decide on points of etiquette between the French Legation and the society of Turin, but of one thing I was sure, that Madame B__ . was a lovely woman and entirely without pretention. Then I changed the conversation as quickly as possible. In my heart however I was very indignant at the Doria, who had already made me a long visit, and who should have left at once both for Madame B__ ’s sake and mine. A truly kind person - not to say a true lady would have done this, but I am afraid the offended Marchese staid expressly to enjoy Madame B__ ’s unpleasant position. If the proposal for dancing here turns out to be a sort of conspiracy against Madame B__ . - which I shall take care to find out - the plotters will most certainly be discomfitted. This incident spoiled all the enjoyment I might otherwise have derived from so many interesting visitors Speaking of the chasse at Racconigi I should have said that general Angrogna assured Mr Marsh that he had special orders from the King to see that he was well amused. If this was not a courtier’s invention, as is very probable, the king was no doubt moved to this expression of good-will, by the interest he took in Mr Marsh’s account of the buffaloes and the other large game of our American wilds. By the way the re galantuomo has a little spice of mischief in him. It seems he has just given the Greek minister Kallergi [Kallergis] his audience - a private one as is usual here on such occasions. The General however had supposed a speech would be expected, and not being strong with the pen, he had requested his secretary, Roque to compose the harangue. Poor Roque who is widely known in European diplomacy as rather its weakest member, did his best, and the doughty General no whit abashed at finding His Majesty quite alone, proceeded at once to deliver his oration which contained striking passages about Greece, the mother of the Arts, the cradle of civilization &c &c. to which the Piedmontese Nimrod listened very gravely, I have no doubt, but which he could not help enjoying afterwards with his friends as a capital piece of fun After the eloquent rhetoric was finished the Greek hero begged permission to present his clerkly secretary. Mr Roque was presented accordingly and after saluting his Majesty inform him that his belle-mĂ©re desired him to make her best compliments.

Mr Marsh dined with the diplomatic corp at the ministry - the dinner being in honor of Mr Solvyns. As usual here there was much blundering about places - but

Menu has been pasted on the page

Pranzo dei 2 Febbrajo 1862

Lista dei piatti

Vini
Sautern               Ostriche di Ostenda
Bourdeaux Lafitte     Cesta di cervo al consommé.
Hochheimer            Prosciutto di Jorck, e composta alla parigina.
                      Ortolani in cassa alla diplomatica.
Madera secco          Salmone con salsa di crevettes.
                      Filetto di bove guernito alla montebella
HĂšres                 SuprĂšme di pollo all'Imperatrice, con tartufi.
                      Pasticcio di Strasburgo con gelatina in bellevue.
                      Punch alla romana.
                      Piselli di Napoli all'inglese e carciofi guerniti.             
Champagne             Faggiani di Boemia e beccaccie allo spiedo.
                      Insalata alla Russa, montata.
Lacrima Cristi        GĂąteau alla gentile al mandarino.
                      Gelati a tre gusti

                      Dessert — Caffù e Liquori

the dinner was otherwise agreeable. Carrie went to the Benedettis and enjoyed it much.

I held a solemn council with Mme de Lima this morning as to the duties of the other diplomatic ladies with regard to Madame Benedetti. She is much better informed than I am as to the facts and she declares that difficulty is incurable. As to our own course she says we shall do Mad. Benedetti no good by abstaining from giving little entertainments, that such a course would only set the whole society of Turin against us if it were once suspected to be a mode of espousing Mad. B-s cause - and she thinks the Benedettis entirely in the wrong - that, on the contrary, we can only do as if nothing had happened, being careful to say nothing ourself ourselves, nor to allow others to discuss the subject at our réunions. Of the wisdom of this last suggestion there can be no doubt and in the first she may be right also. This evening I went to the ministerial ball which was really very brilliant - the duchess, the Prince Carignan etc being present and a large portion of the Turinese aristocracy as well as the more plebeian deputies etc. A mingling of elements must be the inevitable result if the present order of things lasts. Baron Ricasoli was most amiable as was also Madame Peruzzi who received with him. Being among the first I had an opportunity for a few words with Ricasoli, and hope it may be the beginning of a more familiar acquaintance. Mr Marsh had considerable talk with Prince Carignan and he expressed the warmest personal interest in the success of our Northern arms

The beautiful Marchesa RorĂ , who received Mr Marsh the other day in her bed-chamber when she was confined to her bed, asked to be presented to me at at the ball. She is indeed a most lovely creature though she can scarcely be less than forty. She is said to be of Spanish extraction.

in the reestablishment of the Union and the final downfall of Slavery. It is a pity an American diplomatist cannot write such things to his government, but the certainty of seeing them in the Herald, if he did, deters every man who would not deprive himself of all confidence on the part of the government to which he is accreditted.

Did nothing to-day in the way of [illegible] social duties, except that Mr M. paid Mme Benedetti a visit, and Gaetano went to enquire when certain ladies received. The answer brought back in one case was: “every day from one to four - but not to-day - to-day she sleeps!” Carrie went to pass an hour with the little Emilia de Lima and was much amused by her & her less brother Arthur. The oldest boy, Cesare, was engaged with his tutors - one, as C. was told, being his ’master of religion”!

An overwhelmingly busy day for Mr Marsh who had despatches etc to prepare, and who was interrupted by visitors - business visitors, every quarter of an hour from early morning till bed-time. My own time was spent about as much according to my own inclination & about as profitably. Mr Dillon sent in an impertinent note which it required much self-control not to answer as it deserved but we cannot afford to let any personal provocation lead us into an open rupture with him - thus having the disgrace of a civil war in the Legation as well as in our unhappy country.

I had a long visit today from Madame Farina wife of the Senator. She has interested herself much in the establishment of schools &c. and has the honor of being the mother of the Normal Schools here, which are already becoming important. She is a strikingly handsome woman though she has married children. I should have supposed her a Jewess from the peculiar type of face, but at any rate she she [sic] is a remarkably intelligent woman. Mr Marsh had a long talk with Prince Lubomirsky who has just returned from Paris. He speaks in the main well of the emperor but thinks him in a most precarious position. One contrary wind might overthrow the vast but frail fabric he has reared. He gives a characteristic anecdote of him. Not long since some of the most distinguished of the Polish exiles had a long interview with him. He listened to their grievances and their plans for an hour and a half expressing now and then a kindly but non-committal sentiment and when they had finished, he said, “Mais, Monsieurs, ne me brouillez pas trop tît avec la Russie.” In the evening we went to hear what the Opinione calls the Profanazione of the Profeta. Borghi-Mamo did her part well. The scenery was tolerable, but the rest of the performance not brilliant

A thick snow-storm this morning and if I were any where but in Turin I should not have expected visits, but the appetite for them here is not seriously impaired I am told by bad weather. - Visitors came as usual among them the Baronne de Hockschild [Hochschild] and husband - that is the social order here - to introduce the Galli de La Loggia officier d’ - ordinance etc - Madame de Bunsen came to bring Madamoiselle Arbesser gouvernante to the Princesse Marguerite. This young lady came, as she said, at the suggestion of Her Royal Highness who had desired her to make my acquaintance and had added, according to Madamoiselle, many kind & complimentary expressions. Madame de Robilant [illegible] too graciously came again. We also received this morning a very gratifying little token of His Majesty’s favor. Carrie went this evening with the Baronne de Hochschild to a dance for children at Count Menabrea’s - but I could not learn in what respect it differed from any ball.

After two hours’ visiting with Mrs Stanley Mr M. went to dine with Ricasoli. The dinner was in compliment to Kallergi [Kallergis]. Mr Marsh had Peruzzi on one hand and held delectable discourse with him on drainage and engineering of all sorts much to his satisfaction. He thinks Peruzzi’s project of a line of steamers from Ancona to Alexandria of the utmost importance to Italy and expressed his earnest hope to the minister that no opposition would prevent its being carried out.

The demonstrations which have just burst forth all on over Italy in favor of an United Italy kingdom under V.E. with Rome for the capital, and which were intended simply to give the lie to the late assertions of the Holy Father that his children were all on his side as to his Temporal power, have caused much regret even to many friends of the good cause - I do not precisely make out on what grounds. It is as hard for me to see why a people tired of of being priest-ridden should not say so, as it is to understand why a nation in arms in the cause of Freedom should not dare to lift her sacred banner. Let those who stand as watchmen in both cases look to it that they do not bid the people be silent when it is rather the hour for the sound of the trumpet and for mighty shoutings. - Miss Coolidge of Boston spent a half hour with me on her way, with other friends, to Florence. We have just learned that a young officer introduced to us by Mrs Stanley, a Captain Oliviere, is a great rouge rogue. I am sorry for this as we particularly liked our “bould dragoon’, but the evidence against him is irrisistible. Among other feats characteristic of the chevalier d’industrie he has sececeeded [succeeded] by means of forged papers in marrying under a false name a young girl of Nice whom he deserted at once. It is unaccountable that he should be allowed to retain his place in the army and even be invited to the ministerial balls, but it is said that his thorough exposure is imminent. -

Our first visitor this morning was the identical bould dragoon mentioned yesterday, and he brought a note, from the lady who had informed us of the charges against him, saying there was reason to believe that these charges referred to another person of the same name from Calabria. This Capitano solemnly declares he was never in Nice in his life. I trust he may turn out an honorable man after all. The famous Kossuth came with his son to see us this morning. He is still a noble-looking man, but [illegible] seems worn and sad. He stays but a day or two in Turin. General Haug, our old acquaintance in America in 47. as Capt. Haug of the Austrian army, spent 2 hours with me this morning - [Image] I should have mentioned his most unexpected appearance on Saturday. We had some reason to believe he had been shot for treason by the Austrians in ‘49, and certainly had not thought to see him again. I was L not a little surprised on his visit saturday that he made no enquiries for American friends not even for those who were members of our family when he was in Washington, but I supposed it was because visitors came in before he had finished telling his own story. To-day however it was the same thing, not the slightest allusion to the young ladies for whom he used to profess such unbounded admiration - nor to any of the young men with whom he was so intimate. At last, by way of experiment I said, when he spoke of my having so many visitors, that I really did miss my sister who used to be with me always on such occasions in Washington. ’You want some one to support you then among so many strangers’ was his reply - and he immediately turned the conversation He professes to have a wife, two children and large possessions in Sleswick [Schleswig] and really looks as if he were in easy circumstances. At the same time he says he has heard nothing Capt. Von SchĂ€dthe since he left America, an odd circumstance since the latter is always in Sleswick, and in a country hardly larger than a handkerchief it is very difficult to see how he could have avoided him if his story of the marriage etc is true. On the whole, though he never inspired us with much confidence in America, he seems to me even more doubtful now. He says he fought with Garibaldi in the siege of Rome in ’49 went to Constantinople afterwards - that it was an uncle of his who was shot - etc. - in short a very romantic story if one were sure of its truth. This evening we went to a most brilliant ball given by the Marchesa Doria. All the noble beauty and bravery of Turin were there and if it had been less crowded it would have been magnificent. The toilettes were generally exquisite. The French Ministiro and family were not there of course.

Mr Marsh dined at the Prussian Ministers where Baron Hockschildt [Hochschild] gave them some charming music

a pencil drawing of part of a seating arrangement

I should have liked rest to-day after the ball but we had visitors all the morning. In the evening we were quiet.

Went this evening to the Benedettis, a pleasant dance but not so many ladies as the last time. Madame B. is above praise as a kindly & graceful hostess. I had a good deal of talk with several distinguished persons among them Prince Lubomirsky & Count Arese. The Prince is plain & unpretending in manner and easy & agreeable in conversation. Count Arese is an uncommon man certainly, but he did not inspire me with confidence I should take him for a person not in the habit of regarding subjects from any high moral point of view, and in politics, I fancy he is aristocratic enough to please the straitest of that persuasion. A little circumstance which occurred while we were talking together threw light, or seemed to me to throw light on the temperament of man I was studying. Some person in the crowd about us stepped on the Count’s foot - possibly on his corn. The offender turned instantly and begged an imploring pardon. The Count bowed placidly, but as the culprit turned away, his victim sent after him such a scorching glance of wrath as I have never seen from any human eye before. It passed as quick as lightning from the cloud and his calm bland smile was on me as before, but I could not get over that look. I felt a strange constraint during the rest of our talk and was not sorry when we were interrupted. A very nice story is told to-day. It is said that Bombino sent 8000 francs for the relief of the sufferers at Torre del Greco, that

The beautiful Countess Rignon was presented to me to-night and the young Countess Pollon - scarcely less lovely. Count Arese says to Mr Marsh “How can any man who has been in America call these women beautiful? who h

that poor creatures refused to receive it on the ground that they would not take it from their cruel oppressor. As soon as this fact was known a lawyer from the neighborhood of Milan immediately sent from his own purse to the inhabitants of Torre del Greco the sum they had refused from the tyrant. The San Vitales have just sent their card - they are the grandchildren of Marie Therese and spoken of with great praise.

I should have mentioned a charming visit yesterday from the Marchesa Cusani, whose conversation about her domestic relations struck me singularly on our first interview. She is a most frank unaffected creature dignified & graceful in manner and of a most charitable nature. In all things she seems the reverse of what is generally understood to characterize the woman of the world. She alluded indirectly to the difficulty about M. Benedetti, and said though the state of her husband’s health did not allow her to be in society, she had still wished to do her part to show that the Piedmontese ladies were not so inhospitable, and that accordingly she had left her card for the wife of the French Minister. Unluckily for poor Mme Bendetti - whom the Piedmontese fates at least are against for the time being - the card had [illegible] had not been returned. Had this happened to a less charitable woman than the Marchesa all Turin would have been informed of the unpardonable offense on the part of Mme Benedetti. As it is I hope I may have set all right by mentioning the circumstance to Mme Benedetti who had not only not received her card but had never heard her name Mrs Stanley & Mrs Codrington came in this morning to hold a a counsel at my request as to the best way to arrange my rooms for a little dancing on occasion of my evening receptions. I asked Mrs S. why she was not at the Doria Ball. “I was too much vexed with the Pomposa,” she replied. “Her treatment of Mme Benedetti at the Countess MĂ©nabrĂ©a’s was not becoming a lady, - she said to the Baroness Hockschild who was sitting by M. Benedetti, ’Don’t fail me at my ball, as I especially wish all foreign ladies who have chosen to be properly presented to me to be present.” Had I heard this and known it to be true before that ball I certainly would not have gone, & cannot see - if it is True - how Mad. Hockschild could have been seen there.

The Marchesa Doria was again with me early, and I liked her much better than usual. She cannot, I think, have said just what she is reported to have said at the Menabreas. She is much excited about this foolish affair and makes it rather a patriotic than a personal question, but at the same time declares she is sorry for Madame Benedetti. I turned the conversation as soon as possible to more agreeable subjects - and she told me much of her early life, her father, her mother, the distinguished men such as Cousin & Cuvier, & Humbolt [Humboldt] etc who used to frequent their salon. Then she spoke of the empty young men by whom she was now surrounded, and added - ‘but a woman without husband or brother to sustain her is inevitably put down as pretentious & ridiculous if she ventures to show that she has tastes and aspirations above the ordinary low, flat surface of society, so all that my father labored to teach me is valueless except to me, my mother & my sisters.’ Her ancient Excellence La Marchesa Spinola honored me with a visit this morning. She is a character, certainly. The beautiful Comtesse Rignon nĂ©e Perron delighted me by telling me that she was the great-grand-daughter of General La Fayette, that her grandmother, the daughter of the General was still living in good health and deeply interested in every thing that concerns America. The Comte and Comtesse Pollon seem also very nice persons. In fact of my thirty morning guests there was scarce one who would not be noticed in America for as remarkable for grace and dignity of manner and nice social tact. I was vexed by the contrast a country-woman of mine presented, who, when I expressed a hope that she liked Turin, replied with a pert, brusque air, “No I dont - I dont like it a bit! I cant bear it!” I am glad to be able to add that she was a Secesh [Secessionist]. While I was in the full tide of successful reception Mr Marsh was exploring the principle library of the city with Baron Tecco. He found many curious old books and manuscripts and was surprised to see a larger number of persons reading or examining books than he had ever met at the Astor Library at New York. Among these inquirers was a Venitian Veronese, Count Miniscalchi who was presented to Mr Marsh. He is preparing a Syro-Chaldaic grammar N. Testament and was in distress at not being able to procure a grammar of the Chaldee language made by the American Missionaries. When Mr Marsh told him that he had it here and that it was at his service he was quite overjoyed. The Baron returned home with Mr Marsh, and the latter happening to speak of the brother of Bajazet, long held in captivity by the Pope, the Baron said he had himself picked up in Spain a most curious medal commemorating that fact, and promises to send the medal for examination.

Today we neither made nor received visits, and Mr Marsh found time for church, and for reading to me one of good old Tom Fuller’s sermons besides. It seemed a little like a Sunday in our once quiet New England.

We went to the Ministerial ball to take poor Miss Roberts rather than for any other reason. It was agreeable to me as my acquaintances spoiled me as usual by kind attentions. If my health however continues to improve for another six months as it has done during the last I shall cease to have any claim to all these egards and must come down to the level of mere ordinary beef-eating mortals for whom nobody cares. The angular wiry premier expressed himself grateful for the opportunity to serrer ma main, and I was more than ever struck with the resemblance, physical, mental & moral, between him and our heroic Vermont Puritan, Mr Worcester. Carutti is a noble fellow too. The Duchess & suite, Prince Carignan etc were there - but few of the codini. Sella, the great chemist, was presented to me. Baron Tecco brought in to-day the medal mentioned before. It is three inches in diameter, apparently of solid gold, with a head of Christ on one side and [an] inscription on the other which states this head to be the facsimile of one cut in an emerald which, after having long been in the possession of the Grand Turk, was finally sent to His Holiness as a consideration for his being jailor to the briliant but unfortunate Zezim. The late attempt on the life of La Vallette [Valette] in Rome, though little talked of in cautious circles, seems likely to lead to some results.

Haug, General!, spent two hours with Mr Marsh greatly to the hindrance of his work, but not a little to the excitement of his curiosity about this riddle of a man. Strange enough are the tales he tells of himself, of his extensive travels, his discoveries, his collections, his intimacy with Ricasoli and other eminent men of all creed & parties and nations. We must find out whether his air aventuriere does him injustice or not. - Speaking of Lord Hubert de Burgh to-day Mr Marsh says, ’he is a man of remarkably small stature considering he is six hundred years old.” I asked for an explanation and was asked in turn if I did not remember he was Chief Justice in the time of King John. I must ask his lordship the next time I see him if he still remembers the events of his youth. To-day I neither went out, nor was disturbed at home. My friends wonder I can get on so a whole day & evening without un peu de Distraction, as they call. I threaten Mr M. with telling them that I find my husband distracting enough without looking for causes of that nature away from home.

Saw only my quiet excellent friend Mrs Tottenham this morning She is an admirable specimen of aristocratic breeding united with good sense and the heart of a Christian. It is remarkable to find an English family so closely allied to nobility possessing so much genuine liberality as one finds in this (the Tottenham) family This evening we went to a ball at the de Limas - very grand - there being nothing there but the purest codini blood, except a few plebeians by birth but now in high positions under the government. The dresses were beautiful, the hostess lovely and amiable, and every body was as happy as is consistent with crowded dancing, and the discussion of balls, masquerades, operas etc, the only choice of employment allowed on such occasions. The great news of the evening was the half smothered announcement that Madame Benedetti & the Marchesa Doria had been presented to each other. Who was the master spirit powerful enough to bring about such a consummation, or by what means it was effected was not clearly explained, but time will show. So the hatchet be buried in good faith it matters little for the rest.

The Barber of Seville took us to the Theatre Royal took this evening in spite of great fatigue. It was admirably given but [both] the music and the action. Borghi-Mamo was charming and the audience were in the best possible humor. Mr Benedetti came twice to our box - once to bring his daughter who promises to be as lovely as her mother. Mr Benedetti spoke with something very like bitterness of the peculiarities of Turinese society and declared it impossible for foreigners to have any relations with them except of the most formal kind. I was sorry he should have spoken with so much freedom as a Piedmontese officer was with us at the same and evidently did not relish the criticisms. It seems strange that a man so worldly-wise as the French Minister should not perceive that this is not precisely the way to establish friendly relations with a proud and sensitive race. Had he been an Englishman he would not have surprised me, but I looked for more dexterity and flexibility from him. I saw, for the first time this winter in a public place, the Countess Ghiseliere, this evening. Though she was always sitting the same marvellous grace marked every turn of her head & every gesture. A gentleman said to me very significantly “do you know her husband?” I answered in the negative. “An old man with white hair & beard.” I asked no questions & no more was said. - A painful rumor is in circulation about the death of one of the Palasrem, which took place last week. He was at a masquerade at the Scribe, where, after taking a glass of iced sherbet he felt himself suddenly ill. Returning [illegible] home at once, a doctor was called, but while the physician was examining his pulse and seemed puzzled by the symptoms, the Marquise said, “Oh bestia che siete, lasciate mi, e fate venire un preta!” He died at four in the morning. There is the more room to suspect foul play as these mask balls seem to be chosen as favorable occasions for deeds devillish devilish. Another strange tale has been told me to-day by way of defence of the Marchesa Doria whose intimacy with young officers begins to excite more than whispers among the enemy. It is said she has been privately married to one of them and that the other officers about her are mutual friends of herself & husband. Of course it is a mesalliance and kept secret out of respect to her rank. Quien sabe!

Mr Marsh had a long and very free talk with Baron Ricasoli this morning. A new & desperate effort is making to break him down. He explained his policy to Mr Marsh with that manly directness that so strongly characterizes him. “We must have Rome & Venise [Venice],” he says, “but we are not yet ready to take either by force.” If France withdraws from Rome that question is settled but as to Venice we are not yet strong enough to take it from Austria without the help of France - and to take with her help reduces us to dependency upon her. Give us a little more time and we can do it for ourselves.” Mr Marsh asked him distinctly what he understood by “Libera Chiesa in Libero Stato!” He replied, “The entire freedom of all creeds, with no interference on the part of the Government except to protect all in their civil rights.” In a word he means just what we have with us.

Gen. Haug made us another long visit this morning & brought many curious & valable [valuable] medals & other objects of interest recently collected by him. Among them a sword of modern workmanship but in in [sic] imitation of an old Byzantine weapon. It is very admirable and to be presented to Garibaldi when he enters Venice or Rome. The Count & Countess Miniscalchi

This letter has been pasted in. A pencilled annotation indicates “Benedetti”. “Hotel Feder Turin” is the letterhead; the rest is handwritten. The letter continues in a clipping on February 24.
HOTEL FEDER
TURIN

Dear Sir


Will You do me the favour
to hand these ancient coins
to Mrs Marsh. An old Italian
soldier begs of her to accept
them as the tribute of a grate-
full memory.
     "Do'nt fight against Italy"
that Lady said to me years ago.
The enclosed pamphlet tells You,
that my services have been
much too highly appreciated - 
yet I am thankfull to General
Roselli, that he acknowledges
the little I did, with so much
kindness.

     I would wish to go
to the court ball to morrow

from the vicinity of Verona were my first visitors to-day. The Count is very learned & the Countess very intelligent, and sympathizing with her husband’s tastes and labors. She is a Venetian, beautiful and queenly. She says they live almost entirely in the country partly because the Count can best work there & partly to keep out of the way of the intolerable petty annoyances to which they are subjected in the towns under the Austrian rule. The color came with a rush to her cheek when she spoke of Venice and her hopes for it. Among new visitors were the Marquis Boÿl and the Countesses Castelmagno & Radicati but [both] intelligent women and the first pretty. The great topic of conversation among some of the ladies was the Fancy Ball to be given on Friday by the Duchess de la Force at the Hotel Feder. All Turin seems in a stir about it, and a grand Consulta was held this afternoon at the Marchesa Doria’s.

A lovely bright soft day worthy the April of the poets. The sun was almost sorching and the difference between the air without & within-doors was so great as to cause almost a chill when we came in from a drive.

Another grand court-ball this evening to which I did not go of course. It was, Mr Marsh says, very fine and not crowded, as the armory was thrown open. This time Madame Benedetti was treated as her position and her merits deserve - she was in her place in the danse d’honneur, and better still, the king himself, taking advantage of a pause in the dance, approached her partner, Gen. d’Angrogna, and

This letter has been pasted in. It is the continuation of the letter in the clipping on February 22.
evening. A friend of mine,
who went to enquire about
the invitation thikets  [tickets], informs
me that the list for private
invitations has been closed, and
that to morrow morning
up to ten o'clock applications
of the Legations would be atten-
ded.
     If my services as an
acting Consul for the U.S.
entitle me to such a favor,
I leave it to Your judgement - 
anyhow I would not like to
give You any trouble.
     My feruion and passeport
is herewith enclosed.
     Yours very respectfully
23. February 62
     Dear Sir
                   Yours truly
                   Haug 
His Excellency the
U.S. plenipotentiary
Minister
  G. P. Marsh Esquire

requested him to present the lady to him. Madame B. was taken by surprise, knowing that such a proceeding on the part of the present king was quite unprecedented, but she performed her part very gracefully. After two or three minutes conversation the dancing recommenced, the king bowed and Gen d’Angrogno [d’Angrogna] whirled away his partner. This was right royally done by the ’re galantuomo, and shows that his sense of justice is strong enough even to overcome his natural shrinking from certain social observances. What his [illegible] gentle Turinese subjects will say to this remains to be heard. I can fancy that even Diplomacy itself may feel a twinge in one of its fair members - but a person must be very egoiste to envy so unassuming, sweet a creature as Madame Benedetti, especially after all the annoying things that have happened to her here.

The D’Addas gave a beautiful ball to-night, but too crowded. To me it was more agreeable than such places usually are. It was not a mere Piedmontese pack, but many persons connected with the government, and many from other towns in Italy were there. Count Nigra presented to me his sister-in-law, the beautiful Madame Nigra, who, common fame says, might claim to stand in a still closer relation to him. She is one of the prettiest women in Turin, and has an of excellent character so far as I know. We also made the acquaintance of the Comtesse Alfieri, the neice of Cavour - a name that still is always followed here by a sigh - and found her much as she had been discribed to us, plain & ungraceful, but not positively repulsive. Her diamonds were blinding. The Countess St Germain was, as she always is, superb. She would become a throne. Our home news from the Burnside expedition cheers our hearts this week - but many others must ache even while they rejoice.

Gen. Haug - who really seems more and more genuine the more we see of him, was with me to-day when Baron Plana came in to pay me a visit. The conversation turned on Italian politics and the old man eloquent was unable to let the occasion slip without giving the Holy Father a touch en passant. He says however that though the pope is no believer in Christianity, he still thinks he should be left in his place at Rome as head of the Church. As to Temporal power he should have none, but even with only the power that necessarily belongs to his spiritual office, he thinks the king of Italy could not live in the same city with him, and he there therefore argues against the talked-of change of seat of Government. “Let the Pope then go to Jerusalem!” said Haug. “Mais, il ne croirait pas meme à Jerusalem!” - But he wouldn’t believe even in Jerusalem! said the Baron, with a chuckle, and when he saw we all relished his humor, he shook my hand with the delight of a child. He was amused with some of Gen. Haug’s papal statistics, among which were these. ’There have been from two hundred & fifty to three hundred popes - out of these, 65 have been canonized, and out of these sixty five, sixty two lived before the temporal power of the popes was established. If then, sixty five popes without temporal power could furnish sixty two saints, and two hundred with it, could only furnish three, the logical deduction was that temporal power was not conducive

I omitted to give Baron Plana’s statement of the experience of a trustworthy friend of his. “I have lived at Rome”, said this gentleman, “through a long lifetime. I have known intimately 86 Cardinals and I know positively that out of these 86 only 4 believed in the truth of Christianity.’

to the sanctity of popes!’ Our venerable friend said he came to see us a few days ago, “but,” added he with a mischievous twinkle of the eye, “I forgot you were superstitious Protestants and came on Sunday - I did not see you of course.” I assured him I did not think it would be a sin to see him even of a sunday - and besides we might do something towards bringing him to the truth! He left us, full of life and cheerfulness. Madame Monnet came in before he went away. She is a rare women [sic] intellectually, and impresses me agreeably every way. The rumor now is that Ricasoli is firm in his seat again. Immense preparations are making in Turin for the reception of the king next week. Most of the Diplomatic corps are going there. While Mr Marsh was making a visit to Madame de Lima this morning a gentleman present related the following anecdote: He was appointed one of a committee to go out with several ladies on a begging tour for the benefit of the poor. It was settled that they should go to every boarding house - public and private, from the largest hotel to the most modest private lodginghouse and carry their plate from guest to guest at the hour when they were at table. The gentleman says “We went to some startling looking places and encountered some rough looking specimens of humanity. The ladies however who carried around the plate went through with what they had undertaken without flinching. At last one of them approached what we should call a teamster in New England - a very coarse looking man in a blouse and with a pipe in his mouth. She stated her object and extended her

A friend has just pronounced the anecdote of the quĂȘteuse to be a Joe Miller, to be found in some of the memoirs of Louis fourteenth. It is difficult to catch Mr Marsh in this way and I shall be rather amused if for once in his life he has failed to recognize stolen property.

plate. The man took his pipe from his mouth, looked at her fiercely and rudely and then said with a harsh voice as he handed her a five franc piece. “Pour vos beaux yeux la quĂȘteuse!” “Merci” said the lady, taking the money, and adding as quick as thought “et maintenant pour les pauvres,” and she extended the plate again. Without a moments hesitation the man took from his pocket a napoleon and made this second offering with a better grace than the first.

I have just had a long visit from Mlle Arbesser, the gouvernante of the Princess Margaret of Genoa. She spoke with much apparent freedom of her position here - is very happy with the Duchess, of whose mental and moral qualities she speal praises she most warmly - and also with her little pupil now nine or ten years old, but she complains bitterly of the etiquette. Among other curious facts with regard to royal training in this ninteenth century she states. - The Princess Maria Pia - and the same was true of the princess Margaret when she first took charge of her - is never allowed to be left one moment to herself - not even to say her prayers. When she is dressing one of her gouvernantes must be present, with the dressing maid and the princess must on no account address a word to this maid. If she wishes to communicate with her in any way it must be through the lady in attendance. If, by any chance this lady is called away, she must on no account leave the princess till another gouvernante has already entered the room. She is allowed no companionship with persons of her own age not even in the presence of oth all those watchful eyes, because she has no equals in rank. She prays aloud for a quarter of an hour morning and evening Aves & Paternosters etc etc, but she is not allowed to pray for her father! Mlle Arbesser says she has remonstrated with the Duchess on the subject of the Princess Margaret, that the Duchess says it was to bring about a different state of things that she sent for a governess who had not been educated at the Sacre Coeur etc. and she has allowed the Princess to be alone sometimes, to be dressed by her maid with out a third person present, and to speak to her on any subject connected with her dressing & dress. She has also obtained for her the privilege of having 2 or three girls of her own age to play with her, and the little creature is enraptured with this new pleasure which she has once a week. The prince - her little brother - has a harder fate still. He has four governors - one of whom must always be with him, besides two gens d’armes, who constantly attend him as servants and guard. Mlle says that a few days after she entered upon her duties as governess it was proposed that she and General della Rovere - one of the governors - should drive out with the prince and princess. The governess handed made the princess get into the carriage first, as she was some years older than the prince without taking into account her sex. General della Rovere exclaimed in astonishment “Mais Mademoiselle que faites vous! it is for the prince to enter first, and Madame Margaret, already quite a tall girl was obliged to lea get out of the carriage and allow her five year old brother to take precedence, and the place of honor. On her return, Mille Arbesser stated the case to the Duchess, who declared that the princess from her sex and age was entitled to precedence on such occasions. General della Rovere [illegible] would not give up the question. Momentous parchments were consulted and the Duchess was decided down She cut the knot however by giving orders that the prince and princess should not hereafter go in the same carriage. Mlle Arbesser also complains of the intense bigotry that has been instilled into these children especially into the little prince. She says she was showing him the portraits of reigning sovereigns the other day and as she turned over to the Queen of England, the little fellow said”Ah voilĂ  un mauvaise femme! Je ne veux pas la regarder!” “Why do you think her a bad woman?” said the governess. “She is a Protestant.” said the boy, “and the abbĂ© says she and all Protestants are bad.” Mlle Arbesser says she is a Catholic herself, but she was shocked at such teachings and reported the circumstance to the Duchess who immediately called the prince and told him that he must not believe such things of Protestants, whoever might tell him so - that Protestants were mistaken about some things but that they were good people and no good Christian could hate them. The poor Duchess however has no voice in the education of this boy except her own personal influence over him. Another odd piece of etiquette was told me by this lady. She says: Once when she was driving with the little Princess Marguret they met a royal carriage containing the Princess Maria Pia, and her governess. Mlle Arbesser rose in her carriage but the little princess Marguret cried out frantically: “Mais Mademoiselle, saluez aussi avec la portiĂšre, saluez avec la portiĂšre” The poor governess had no idea of the meaning of this order and before it could be explained it was too late to obey. She was told afterwards what she should have done. The window of the carriage should have been lowered if it were up - should have been raised and lowered if it were down. And this, be it known to posterity is the royal salute of the ‘portiĂšre!’ I scarcely know at which most to wonder - at the things related, or at the imprudence of the narrator who had never talked half an hour with me before. I should be glad of the opportunity of learning from such confidences, if the old proverb about turning cat and pan were not always present to me on such occasions.

I was not well enough to see visitors today and so missed Madame de Bunsen whom I wished to see. Mr Marsh paid a few visits and persists in liking the Piedmontese ladies notwithstanding the general complaint of foreigners.

I was obliged to give up my weekely reception today, feeling quite unable to dress and sit up so long. Mr Marsh however saw two gentlemen from Terre-Haute, acquaintances of Alexander, and though I missed them myself I hope to see them at dinner on Monday.

The Ministry is announced as dissolved. We are pained to learn this, and our fears for Italy will be very great if Ratazzi is really placed at the helm of state in such threatening times as these. The news from Rome for some days has been of a character to excite uneasiness - and who shall wonder if this long suffering, patient people explode at last. The fall of the Ministry will not be likely to have a soothing effect upon that people. The masking this afternoon was gay but in every respect quiet and orderly. Every piazza and every street was filled to overflowing, but there were no noisy brawls, no signs of drunkenness. There was a Coronation of Petrarch in the Piazza Castello, but we did not see it. The day was a balmy as May, and we had no fires in the house except at morning and evening.

Mr Cook and Mr Freeman dined with us today, and we were glad to find Americans so all right in their general impressions from what they had seen abroad, but more especially in their home politics. They are men of a class very difficult to be met with in Europe - men evidently born in humble life, but by no means lacking in refinment, with much knowledge of the world and an amount of reading almost never found in the Old World except among mere scholars. We did not go out to look after the Carnival which is still in full tide today.

Mr Marsh went quite early this morning to see that great power of his age - Garibaldi, who came to town yesterday. It is said Ricasoli sent for him as soon as he had resigned, in order to talk over the affairs of Italy with him and to urge upon him the necessity of restraining his partisans from committing any imprudence. Mr Marsh - who I fancy had made up his mind to see a little of the dramatic - was struck by the quiet, genuine dignity of this great man. There was nothing of over self-consciousness about him He was in the well known red shirt with a becoming cap, and a military cloak over his shoulders. He dismissed the crowd about him in order to talk with Mr Marsh alone. He expressed the deepest interest in the American struggle and declared that nothing but the reasons already given could have prevented him from taking part in it. Mr Marsh stayed with him but a short time as there were so many eagerly waiting their turn. He leaves town at once, but as he thinks of spending a part of the summer in Genoa I hope we may see more of him. The Carnival was very lively all day - the more so from its being lawful to throw coriandoli - the confetti of Rome - in most of the principle streets. There was nothing corresponding to the moccoli of Rome in the evening, but at ten o’clock an imposing procession headed by two stupendous cars passed through the great streets and squares. In one of these cars, elevated to a very great hight [sic] stood a giant figure called the carnevale. He was surrounded by fantastic figures, impish and fiendish, that would defy all description, all and the whole was illuminated by countless colored lights. The other car, scarcely less brilliant contained the musicians. - then came a processions of several hundred persons, all carrying chinese lanterns. About midnight they reached the Piazza Castello, where an immense pile was erected. The plethoric carnevale was lifted to the top of this pile, - a multitude of fireworks were played off, and in a few minutes, the whole mass was enveloped in flames, the tens of thousands of spectators raising shout upon shout as the monster was consumed. The masked balls, etc were kept up till morning, but there were no disturbances of any kind.

Every thing quiet today except a murmur of dissatisfaction at the new Ministry. It has not been well received in most of the large cities of Italy. But this people have shown such a noble spirit thus far that we have good reason to hope they will wait with patience before condemning the new Ministry. As to Ricasoli, there is no danger that any personal consideration will make him forget for a moment the best interests of his country. He will support the ministry as far as he can do so conscienciously.

Though I have made it a rule to say little in this journal of American affairs, the news for a day or two past calls at least for an expression of thanksgiving. Italian matters are full of uncertainty. One says the overthrow of Ricasoli is a mere palace intrigue, at the bottom of which is the witch of Montcaliere, others say she has been the tool in the hands of the Emperor, others still that it has been brought about by the settled conviction of the liberal party that more active measures must be adopted and that the king has acted calmly on the advice of the wisest counsellers within his reach. Alas! if the truth is so difficult to find even here with plenty of persons ready to swear that they know positively all about it, through their own eyes and ears, how does posterity ever find out the real facts in such cases.

Today the new Ministry was expected to announce its programme and the street in front of the Chambers was quite thronged. Every thing continued quiet. Ratazzi’s address was very good but dealt only in generals. Ricasoli made a short speech which was received with much applause. Mrs Tottenham gave me a curious anecdote of a Piedmontese family in Turin. San Margarita I think is the name. It seems they are codinissimi, and have always held themselves somewhat aloof even from most of the P. nobility. Since the day when royalty itself distributed the loges boxes at the Teatro Regio they have ceased to be seen at the theatre. For years they have lived in almost more than monkish seclusion. This winter a son of the house married - the lady insisted on going to the Royal Theatre - the family were scandalized - the willful bride had her way, and as she carried her husband in triumph through the streets of Turin at nine o’clock in the evening the happy man exclaimed burst into exclamations at the sight of the lighted streets which he beheld for the first time in his life! I have just asked a native of Lombardy who has long lived in Turin if such a story could be true. He says “Of course I cannot vouch for this case, but I assure you it may very well be true. Madame de Boÿl, who has just returned from Paris, gives an amusing account of a conversation of hers with an old friend of the Fauburg St Germain.”How do you manage about churchgoing said the curious Parisian. “Why I go either in my carriage or on foot as I like” answered the Marquise Boÿl. “But,” says her friend, “how do you get into the church?” Further explanations followed from which it appeared that the enlightened Frenchwoman believed that all the churches in Italy had been closed by the Garibaldians, and that no priest every dared appear in the streets.

TBD

There are 4 pages of clippings relating to the Carnevale in Turin, including the schedule and rules for coriandoli (~ confetti).

What Negroes can Do. -- Mrs. Margaret Stanley,
widow of the late Bias Stanley, died this week, leav-
ing her property for benevolent purposes. Her hus-
band died a few years ago, leaving two houses in
College street and one in Dwight street, the income
of the same, after the death of his widow, to be ap-
plied for the support of the Gospel, and for educa-
ational purposes among the colored people of New
Haven. Henry White, John G. North, and Atwater
Treat are the Trustees to manage and appropriate
the same. Mr. and Mrs. Stanley were slaves until
they were forty years of age, and upon obtaining their
freedom began a life of industry and economy, which
in the progress of their lives enabled them to obtain
a good living and to amass a little fortune, exceeding
$6,000. The were both members of the Temple-
street Congregational church, and died in the full
hope of a blessed inheritance above. -- New Haven
Journal


Baron Ricasoli left office (writes our Turin
correspondent) precisely as Sergeant Bothwell
departed this life -- "always astride his fore-
fathers." The King spoke with great benig-
nity at parting, and shook hands with him,
saying that "he was sure they would always
be friends." "My friendship for your Ma-
jesty," answered the Medieval Baron, "will
always increase in proportion to your exer-
tions for the accomplishment of the great
Italian redemption." -- (Times.)
THE "SATURDAY REVIEW" AND ITS CONTRIBUTORS.
The chief of the political department -- the gentle-
man who does the "heavy business" on the South-
ampton-street stage -- is Mr. G. S. Venables of Mitre
court. Temple, and then follow the lesser Joves, such
as Mr. Joseph Arnold, Rev. Charles Kingslake, Mr. G.
H. Lewes, Mr. Newmarch, (secretary of the Globe
Assurance office,) Mr. Main, 9reader at the Middle
Temple,) Professors Owen and Playfair, Mr. Goldwin
Smith, Mr. Beresford Hope, (the proprietor of the
journal,) Rev. W. Scott of Christ's church, Hoxton,
M. J. Pitt Taylor, (the County Court Judge,) Mr. W.
B. Donne, Mr. Jones Rymer, Mr. C.J. Sanders, Lord
Robert Clinton,, (very casual,) Mr. Grant Duff, (do.,)
Mr. E. A. Freeman, and Mr. Frazer, late Paris cor-
respondent of a well-known and once powerful jour-
nal. Among the other contributors deep in the arcana
of the zymotic process constantly going on in South-
ampton-street are the following: Mrs. Bennet, (sister
of our most sagacious statesman,) Miss Boyce, Lady
Hanover, (formerly Lany Benjamin Hall,) the com-
piler of the journal and correspondence of Mrs. Delany,
the wife of the Dean of Down; Miss Jane Williams,
(another gifted native of the Palatine,) Miss C. Ogle
of Newcastle, Mr. F. Galton, Mr. A. Grant, Mr. W. V.
Harcourt, Mr. J. M. Hayman, Mr. G. W. Hemming,
Mr. I. C. Mansfield, Mr. Stephens, and a few others off
minor note. The majority of the male contributors
are barristers, of whom perhaps it may be said that
their friends gave them nothing to do, and they
did it!

to-day I received a large number of visitors, but as they were nearly all persons I had seen at least once before it was a less fatiguing day for me than usual. The queenly St. Germano charmed me as usual. A curious conversation took place between Mons. de Lima & the Marchesa D’Arvillars on the subject of suicide - apropos of the sad fate of an accomplished Englishwoman. The Countess d’Adda, though looking so feeble, was full of life & gaiety. The AbbĂ© Baruffi gave a funny account of old Baron Plana’s violent denunciation of the new ministry in a caffĂ© yesterday. “Baron Plana, with his reputation & thirty thousand a year may do this, if he likes; but a poor priest like me must be more prudent, and, finding I could not restrain him, I persuaded him to leave the caffĂ© with me.”

I should have mentioned among my visitors yesterday Sam. Cooper & wife from America. They give glowing accounts of the spirit shown at Rome - but I must confess the Italian horizon does not look very fair to me just now. Some of the prefects of the leading cities for have already resigned since Ratazzi came in and more are likely to do so. Count d’Adda, I am sorry to say, is among the first. - We had a charming drive to-day, first a turn in the Via Pó, where there was a gala corso, and then elsewhere - the weather most delightful. The Marchesa Doria was brilliant in equipage & toilette so were many others.

We stole an hour for another drive today - everything looks so bright and springlike. Good news continues to come in from America. Here the clouds do not disperse. The meeting at Genoa yesterday excites much uneasiness. (For account see newspapers preserved.) Garibaldi has boldly endorsed our friend Haug at any rate.

Our whole time, now is taken up with the preparation of Mr Marsh’s second Series of Lectures, for the press. I am almost afraid Mr Marsh cannot hold out to work another month in this way. I managed to get him out though, for an hour or two every day either for walk or drive. Today we drove to the cemetery - a strange quaint looking place to which I intend to go some day and make notes for an hour. The grave of Silvio Pellico awakened some very touching memories. As we only went into the old cemetery we did not see the resting place of the lamented Cavour.

Today we drove to Moncalieri. The palace is large and stands almost on the extremity of the Collina which here sinks abruptly into the plain. The village is nestled at the foot of the palace and I longed to get out for a stroll through its odd looking little streets.

At last we have a rainy day - a very

“Vendredi” is the letterhead
Vendredi


     My dear Mrs. Marsh
     
              Having been particularly
pleased to hear you take
interest in German litterature, I
venture to send you an historical
romance which is considered one
of the best written at present.
The author is a Lady, the wife
of the but shortly deceased historian
"Theodor Mundt." The description
of the Austrian Court, a century
[*Lowenthal Notes*]
ago could perfectly be applied
to the Italian one, I am living
at; the intrigues of the Jesuits
which gave so much pain to
poor Emperor Joseph and inflicted
so many trials on him are
extremely well described and his
torical. I think it will rather
interest you. Many thanks, for
the book of poetry, I merely read
a few lines yet, and like it very
much. I will gladly avail myself
of your permission to call on you
any day, your charming conversation
and most superior intellect and

gentle one certainly - but still it does rain. We were able to do a good long day’s work on the Lectures.

This morning I received from Miss Arbesser the note on the preceding page - I am amazed at the imprudence of this young person, and should like to caution her a little, if I knew how to do so without seeming to play the mentor, and so perhaps drive her to trust some one who might be cruel enough to betray her. Mr Marsh dined to-day with Ratazzi in company with the other Cabinet Ministers and the Dip. Corps. It is the fĂȘte of the king & prince Humbert. American news of the best -

Visitors few but all acquaintances, with many of whom I begin to feel myself quite familiar. To my great satisfaction General Menabrea, by repeating the remark he made to me some weeks since at the Opera, gave me an oportunity to say a few words on the other side of the question. The graces in women and a devotion to her family duties were all that were required to her perfection. “But,” I said, “what is there left for us if nature has not gifted us with graces, if we have no family to which to devote ourselves or if ill health deprives us for long years of all social enjoyments and of the strength necessary to attend to household matters? with thousands of women one or more of the suppositions are stern facts. You would deny us all those mental rescources with which wide knowledge furnishes you - you would leave us to count our beads under such circumstances, but you would leave us nothing else.” I then told him that I thought nature had made wide differences between men and women and that it should be [illegible] the object of education to bring them nearer together rather than to increase these differences, and finished my speech by a quotation from St. Cyril’s Clement’s advice to his clergy “teach your men to be modest, your women to be brave. The General seemed much amused and quite inclined to pursue the discussion, but we were interrupted by the coming in of a new set of visitors. Mr de Bunsen gave me some curious details of his Turinese experiences. Nobody quite dared to talk politics, but it seems to be generally understood that the disaffected prefects are all to come back.

Having a bad headache all day I was not able to see Count Sauli who is one of the literary antiquities of Turin, and who kissed my hand most gallantly at the D’Adda’s the other evening. Mr Marsh drew him out a little on the subject of politics knowing that he was considered a codino. The old man said he had a dread of revolutions - a natural feeling for any one, but more especially for one of his age - but when he touched upon the Papacy he spoke in no measured terms of its abuses - and of Guizot’s late defence of the th temporal power of the Pope - he said, “C’est le scandale de notre temps.”

Madame de Lima brought her two lovely boys to us this morning - the one 14 - the other 5 years old. The oldest speaks five languages fluently - not to name the Piedmontese patois which he uses like a native. The little fellow, who was born in England, prides himself on being an Englishman.

No visitors to-day but little Emilia de Lima - or Tota de Lima as she directed Alexander to announce her - a most bright, interesting child of eleven.

Mr Powers came in to announce the arrival of himself, wife & daughter with his son-in-law that is to be to-morrow. We were delighted to see him - noble, honest soul that he is. I never see talk with him without feeling that circumstances only have prevented him from doing far greater things than he has done - I might say greater than any man of his age has done in his profession branch of art.

The bridal party came to us as soon as the ceremony was over at the British Legation. Lulie looked as sweet and calm as possible, the bridegroom, Mr Ibbotson, was less composed, though we liked his appearance extremely, and the parents’ hearts are very full. Every thing went off as well as could be wished, and after a glass of wine the young people set of out for Milan - the father & mother remained to dine pass the day & dine with us. We had a ‘good long day curse’ at the Secessionists.

Mr & Mrs Powers left for home this morning in a heavy rain. Strange that out of the five days of rain in eleven months they should have had three of them in which to marry their daughter & see Turin.

Mr Dillon was my first visitor - Madame Benedetti my second. I was very glad to see the latter as she has never been in before since the disagreeable rencontre with the Doria. She was however, amiable and graceful as ever, and seems incapable of petty resentments, though not lacking in the truest dignity. It was settled between us that she should not make her visits to me on saturday hereafter. The beautiful Marchesa RorĂ  was certainly the particular of star of this day’s reunion, but my plain friend, the Contessa Salino made herself scarcely less agreeable. Gen. Haug excited some curiosity, and after he left, Baron Hochschild enquired who he was. On my explaining, he broke out with some [illegible] warmth against Garibaldians in general, though he admitted that this particular speciman was an interesting one. He then spoke of the hero himself, said he was a hero, and an honest man besides, but that he lacked common sense. I ventured to say that I thought the events of the last three years showed some faint gleams of common sense in this man - not only, too, what had been done but what had been forborne. “But he is doing immense mischief now,” was his reply. I confessed I did not know what he was doing, and therefore could not dispute the assertion. The Baron then added, “Garibaldi is a true hero & a patriot, and history will place him higher as the regenerator of Italy than king or Cavour - but I tell you frankly that, were I dictator here and convinced that Garibaldi intended to get the country into a war, I would have him hanged tomorrow! I know I should be eternally infamous for that deed but I should save Italy by it!” Some animated discussion followed between us, Count de Thomar taking part, but diplomatic caution was a heavy drag-chain on my woman’s wit. The dear old AbbĂ© brought in his unfailing contribution - an interesting anecdote. I told him we went to the cemetery the other day, and saw the grave of Silvio Pellico. “Ah,” said he, “it is painful to see that the Countess __ made his grave with those of her family servants.” I could not believe I had heard aright. “Yes,” said he, “Silvio Pellico was a tutor in her family, and when he died she never dreamed of laying him in the family vault but made his bed with those of her other servants.” So a descendant of the great Colbert treats the ashes of Silvio Pellico! Who would not rather rest with Egypt’s crocodiles than be placed in a vault where the dust of this same Countess must some day be brought. This evening we went to our theatre - now occupied by a Piedmontese company. We were surprised to find that we could follow the play tolerably well - and were much pleased with the respectable character of the performance. There was nothing, so far as we could judge, of the coarseness of the French plays we had heard in the early winter, and the piece did not seemed intended to prove the hollowness of [illegible] marriage-vows - the moral of most of the plays I have seen this winter

A quiet day at home after morning service, except a short drive towards Moncalieri. The air was perfumed with violets and every man, woman and child we met had a knot of these sweet flowers.

Today we had a long drive taking Mr Artoni, The hillsides towards Superga are literally covered with wild flowers - primroses anemones and all the common wild blossoms of spring. Nearer the river banks are thousands of violets. The willows are already quite green, the almonds have been in blossom for ten days, and many other trees and shrubs are fast putting out leaves. General Haug came to take leave, though he expects to return to Turin after a short visit to Scleswick [Schleswig] Holstein. He is certainly an enigma.

After a very hard mornings work I persuaded Mr Marsh to drive down to the Botanical Garden by the Valentino Palace. There are many curious trees and shrubs and flowers here and it will no doubt be much enlarged.

Carutti came in this morning to say goodbye before going to his post at the Hague. He is a man of ability and honest enough to be the secretary of Ricasoli, which is saying all that could be said of a man in that direction. We regret him profoundly. - I should have mentioned Mr Marsh’s interview with Ratazzi yesterday. His new Excellency was very gracious and expressed the same sympathy in the success of the North that every Italian does who speaks of our government. The unanimous opinion of all p Italian politicians with whom we talk is that the new Ministry here must go down, and that speedily. The triumphal of Garibaldi terrifies the timid, makes the calmer patriots look grave and somewhat anxious, but it fills the sanguine with fresh hopes. There is the same striking unanimity of opinion with regard to Garibaldi’s greatness of heart and purity of purpose which I have so often noticed in reference to Ricasoli. Both these men are violently opposed in their political views, but their worst enemy dares not impeach their motives.

Another rainy day. Hard work over manuscripts is the duty of the day, and arranging the quantities of wild flowers gathered yesterday by Carrie and Giachino serve for the amusement. For myself this is my second days penance for walking through the Valentino conservatory Tuesday, and if I get off with another week I shall be thankful.

Still in bed and only able to hear, not see, the Ms. before it goes to press. More home news, but I cannot write of these.

This post brings Mr Dillon’s recall to our great relief. Without the least personal ill will towards him, we have found him in all respects a clog on the legation. Hostile alike to this government and our own, and perfectly unreserved in his condemnation of the latter, Mr Marsh has never felt that he could trust him with any of the business of the Legation. The only thing he has done in this way since we came has been to copy one, possibly two or three, papers, the first month after our arrival. Since then he has been trusted with nothing. He is evidently most unfortunately made up - irritable & suspicious in his temper and always complaining that life has nothing to offer worth the trouble of living for - I am heartily sorry for him but it is a case where we at least can be of little service. Mr Marsh says: “How could I - an American-Puritan-Liberal-Union-Republican - be expected to go on with an Irish-Papist-Bourbon-Secession-Democrat?” Truly it would seem difficult.

A dull day without, but we had rest and quiet within. Our news from America continues most encouraging. Italian affairs not clearing up.

Raining still, and we find the freedom from visitors the greatest relief now that we are so hurried. Manuscript - manuscript every where, and this morning proof to read beside -

How did the unhappy book-makers of former ages get on, I wonder, when there was no such thing as Patent Paste! Why it is the very salvation of us drudges of the present day.

Thanks to this continued gentle rain the work prospers - another week we hope will see it all on its way to the printer. Mr Marsh went to the Convegno dei Deputati this evening just by way of keeping up a thread of connection with the outward world which we have well nigh lost sight of. Every body congratulates on the improved aspect of our political affairs, Mr. Tourte is especially jubilant as the prosperity of Republics is very dear to him. -

Still, water, water every where! and we work & are thankful. The Abbé came in this evening to announce Lesseps for to-morrow. We shall have news of the canal I suppose - that is, if there is any thing he thinks worth while to communicate.

A glorious sun this morning, and the partial change of occupation it will bring does not come amiss, for Mr Marsh is quite worn out with his constant writing, and Carrie & I are both rather knocked up with reading. I shall take my first drive, since the unlucky visit to the botanical garden. - Eve. The drive was a success - & Mrs Stanley & I discussed American politics without thunder - though I was conscious of an emission of a little heat-lightning now & then. These English are certainly the most obtuse tribe now existing. For all practical purposes they might as well be stone-deaf -

The Pomposa came in with an exquisite young creature - the Countess Rosponi - just as poor Mad. Cappellini had taken her seat. The high-minded Marchesa was careful to show her appreciation of my less aristocratic visitor,

     My Dear Friend Marsh

             My wife was quite sea sick on
the vessel from Genoa to Leghorn, and
has hardly yet recovered. Her head still
swims when she stoops - and I have been
very busy modelling a portrait bust by
day and writing in the evening. I have had
business letters to attend to. Still one or
the other of us ought to have written you
a word at least on our return. I intended
to do so - but put it off until I am
really ashamed.
   I was really in earnest about the bust
to be done of Mrs Marsh and shall expect
her here ere long - but mind, when I ask
any one to sit to me, my own labour is
gratis - The model in plaster will there-
fore be yours - After that, if you should
desire to have it in marble you must
pay for the material - and the actual cost
of execution - a sum somewhere within
two hundred dollars -
I know your generous nature too well to
suppose that you will be quite satisfied
with this arrangement, but my dander is
very touchy and will rise if you refuse
to gratify this little bit of ?? selfishness on my part -
   Tell Mrs Marsh to have no fears about
the lateness of this work. And if her face has
been touched by the hand of time, that hand
has given more than it has taken, and her
Pose presents an example 
of
wear, which more
and more reveals the "Royal metal" -
I would not take an hour from the age
of my wife's bust, for whatever lines there
may be upon it, though unintelligble to the
understanding - are all histories to the heart.
I feel what they mean and had they been
left out, then the story of her life would
have closed where they began.
The infant is not lost in the good child,
and the good child is not lost in the
adult but continued, and serene old age
holds all, and expresses them too - if we
could read the book of life written upon
every old face -
The young "Proserpine" stands by the side of
my wife's bust, in my studio, and between
them, there is the marked difference of 18
and 46 years - and yet there are many
visitors, who without knowing the portrait
or any thing of the original, seem more
pleased with it than with the other -
Both have a story to tell - one is short and
sweet. The other long and congenial to the
beholder. The one is "Story ideal" - the other
"alive and real" There is and always must
be this difference twixt ideal heads by man
and faithful portraits, the first are from
finite hands - the second  - are from the
Infinite - The one is general without
particulars- the other is general with
every particular -
But I have not time to write a lecture
We will talk about these matters during
Mrs Marshs sittings -
The news from home - upon the whole - is
most encouraging - It looks like a cave in
at the South - and there must be a cave
in - It is not in human nature - as we
know it from history - for a people without 
religious fanaticism - a strong cause - or
Some great material interest - to stand
out against such odds, as are now bearing upon the South - I do not go into
a consideration of the bravado of the Southern
Leaders - that is all stuff - the people, who
have thus far followed them, and have been
thus far deceived and duped, will follow
no longer, but soon turn upon their leaders,
and tear them to pieces if resisted - It always was so, and often when the leaders were
right, but unsuccessful - To suppose that
the ignorant masses of the South are to
afford an unprecedented example of firmness,
in the present circumstances, is to suppose
a miracle -
   Pray write to me soon as you con-
veniently can.
               and with our united regards,
believe me ever yours -
                             Hiram Powers.
Florence
         April 3d 1862
         

and I was equally careful that my countrywoman should not feel herself rudely treated at least by me. I find my mantle of charity [illegible] likely to prove somewhat scant for the most extraordinary dimensions of this grande dame, and the prospect now is mutual contempt, if not open hostility on her part. It is quite certain we don’t sympathise to use the word of the day. It was most gratifying to receive the congratulations of Baron Poerio & Madame Peruzzi on the successes of our Gov. I had no idea that there was so much fire left in the former. He spoke at first with much feeling of our victories over the rebels, but when he touched upon the project of the European Powers to put a Hapsburg on a throne in the West, his eyes seemed literally to blaze. ’Thank “God,” said he, “you were in time to put a stop to put a stop such an infamous scheme!” Madame Peruzzi was not less warm - “It was a plan to fix a base of operations against your Republic - or at least to hem you in and hold you in check!” Garibaldi again came up for discussion when unluckily he had no friend by to defend him. His interview with the poet Manzoni is a sore subject with the codini who have long insisted that the latter was repenting in dust & ashes of his liberalism.

I took Mrs Stanley and Mrs Codrington to Moncalieri today. The air was delicious but the mountains were mostly covered. Mrs Stanley gave a pleasant account of her interview the other day with Garibaldi. On taking leave of him, she said, “I am going to see another valued friend.” “May I know whom?” said the General. “Baron Plana.”

TBD
Not transcribed. Title is “FANATISMO CLERICALE”

“Then you are a privileged woman if you can call that great man friend.”

We carried off the reluctant Minister from his writing table to the green fields, the hunting grounds and the handsome palace of Stupenigi. I have not been there before, and can now well understand why the great Bonaparte liked to live there. We were scarcely out of town and fairly in the beautiful avenue that leads to it, before the sweet violets the daisies and other children of the spring looked out upon us most fascinatingly from the green banks. Gaetano would stop to gather them though the thunder was rattling over our heads, and Mr Marsh took occasion to make the threatening rain an additional argument against picking flowers which he always regards in the light of a crime. I tried to console his wounded sensibilities by assuring him that though their lives might be the shorter they would be the broader for their travels; and that perhaps a sight of Turin and the Casa d’Angennes and a portrait of Carlo Felice would make ample amends for other losses. On the whole we enjoyed the drive immensely. I cannot say that I find myself shocked - as most Americans are - to see the contadine at work in the fields. The poor, of both sexes, must toil, and to do so in heaven’s open air and sunshine seems to me a happier lot than confinement in the factory or the cellar kitchen. One strong healthy looking woman who was planting in her garden, particularly attracted my notice - I will not say my envy, though if I must choose between such a life as hers and that of the haughty Pomposa of Turin I should certainly decide in favor of the former.

We made an abortive attempt to get into the country again today - a smart shower overtaking us before we could get out of town. Mr Marsh after writing from half past four A.M. till the same hour P.M. was attacked with cramp which fortunately was soon relieved by domestic remedies as housewives express themselves. I sincerely trust he may hold out for the few days more required to finish the lectures, but it distresses me beyond measure to see him driven at high pressure in this way.

villa, a ch To-day we went to look at the Franchetti Villa, a charming place only a few rods from the bridge. But, though the distance is nothing, the ascent is steep and Mr Marsh thinks on that account it would not do for winter, as friends would not like to come to us evenings.

Took Miss Roberts to Stupinigi, but found the violets nearly gone - Mr Marsh drudged all day at home.

We took a short drive with Mrs Stanley - and with this exception worked violently all day.

Mr Marsh was at his writing-table before 1/2 past 4 this morning and C. was not beh long behind him. I was up an hour earlier than usual myself - and all this in a sort of desperate hope of getting of the last pages of the Ms. to-day - - I watched the clouds and prayed for rain to keep off visitors - the rain came, but alas the visitors too, and 60 pages will have to lie over till monday. Carrie has copied nearly ten thousand words in the last two days, but all won’t do - the work will run over into next week. In spite of thunder & rain I had some dozen visitors all pleasant enough, but none very brilliant or exciting. I grow very tired, sometimes, of the everlasting sameness of this high society, - but what amazes me most of all is to see sensible men otherwise, taking the liveliest interest, or pretending to do so, in trivialities beneath a child. Rustem Bey, speaking of going to Naples with the king, said he did not care much to go, as all the haute societĂ© of that city had emigrated to Paris and there would be nothing to see or enjoy. I said, that without making the acquaintance of a single member of that important body, I had passed some of the most delightful weeks of my life there - hinted at the wonderful beauty of the scenery, at the old Roman world laid open there etc. He made no reply, but evidently pitied my ignorance of the world.

This afternoon we drove to the Madonna di Campagna the roads were bad from the rain of yesterday, but the wheat fields were most beautiful. The grain wheat is now at least a foot high, and some of the winter grains - I could not distinguish the species as we passed rapidly - are at least two feet - and nicely headed out. The fruit-trees are in fullest flower and the whole country seems a rich garden. The air was delicious but the sky looked a little angry.

At two o’ clock the last page of the manuscript of the Second Course of Lectures on English was sealed up & sent to the post and Mr Marsh sat down to announce the fact to his American publisher, Scribner. At three I went to see how he was enjoying his newly recovered liberty - I found him with a heap of manuscript, loose notes etc, about him - “what are you doing now?” I said. asked. “At work on my next book.” he said in the quietest way in the world - and sure enough the projected “Physical Geography” was already in the forge. ‘Well, I said, ’it cost me fifteen years of hard work to wind you up to the writing point, and now I believe you are likely to run on without stopping for the next fifteen.” Perhaps so,’ he answered, but did not look up. For the first time in eleven months there has been to-day a sudden change in the weather. A thick snow-storm all night day, with a cold northwest wind & and thermometer at 40 Fahrenheit Far - in the evening at 37 - . What a contrast to yesterday.

The de Bunsens were with us for an hour or two this afternnon. They spoke of many American acquaintances they had made at Rome with great pleasure. Among others they praised enthusiastically the Storys. In Mrs Stowe they seemed to have been disappointed. as she occupied their interview with questions about the road to Perugia, the expense of getting there, the lions to be looked after &c. &c. - in short talked like a mere ordinary mortal and did not drop them a crumb of her greatness to carry off as a specimen. I have often thought that many travellers regard persons of distinction much as they do old temples etc. - if they can’t bring away a piece they are distressed. Mrs Stowe would however pro Miss Arbesser spent the evening with us and was not incommunicative. She spoke of Ricasoli’s fall as unquestionably a court intrigue, though there might have been extraneous influences that gave his enemies the power of mischief. She says she had ventured to express, one day, something of the admiration she felt for his character, when she was taken up shortly by Count Gattinara who said “Pour moi, Mademoiselle, je n’estime pas un homme qui et son’ chapeau en prĂ©sence de sa MajestĂ©!” It seems that, on one occasion, when the king passed through the council chamber, just as they were breaking up, Ricasoli put on his hat, the Count declares, before the king had really passed through the opposite door. This offense, it appears, cost the unhappy Baron the estime of the young courtier. A loss which he probably does not greatly grieve over. There is really something grand in the noble independence of this man - an independence as free from affectation as it is from assumption. He would not wantonly do a disrespectful thing in the

Another charge brought against poor Ricasoli is, that, on New Year’s evening at the Teatro Regio where, with all the most distinguished gentlemen of the Court, he was attending on the king, he, after having been honored with a ten minutes talk with His Majesty, retired to the lower extremity of the space behind the king and sat down! This act - though he was so far behind the king as to be quite invisible to the audience greatly shocked some of the high priests of royalty, one of whom went to him and remonstrated on the impropriety of his conduct. “Laissez moi tranquil,” said the indignant Baron, “c’est une bĂȘtise!”

presence of the king, but he is a despiser of the ‘traditions’, some of which disgrace the Italian court to this day. This same Gattinara who really seems an amiable man, quotes in justification of some of his absurd insistences a reprimand which he received when one of the royal pages of the late Queen. On some ceremonial occasion the queen suddenly swooned and Gattinara, who was the only gentleman standing near her at the time caught and sustained her till other assistance could be had. For this he was sharply blamed. on the ground that the injunction “ne touchez pas Ă  la reine’ was too sacred a thing to be violated, and the royal lady should rather have been suffered to fall on the marble floor. He now sees the propriety of this, and probably it is a severe mortification to him that his own noble instincts should not have taught it without the necessity of the lesson. Miss Arbesser tells - on the authority of the Duchess herself I fancy though she did not say so - an amusing instance of the formality of the queen mother of Victor Emmanuel. She was in the habit of having her two daughters-in-law, the Queen Adelaide and the Duchess, with her every day after dinner, and she herself gave them tea or coffee. The Duchess who never took coffee, but the persistent queen regularly offered it to her every evening, year after year, always receiving the same answer and always persevering in the same polite offer -”CaffĂ©, Elisabetta?” “No, grazie,” and so it went on to the end. The awful state kept up at this family meeting seems to have been too appalling for the son and husband, and it is no wonder that Victor Emmanuel preferred ‘black bread and onions’ to such a tea table. The two young wives and mothers could not speak to each other even of their children without a frown from the queen dowager. Add to this the fact that not only she, but also Queen Adelaide was completely in the power of the Jesuits and one ceases to wonder at the consequences. Miss Arbesser says “one should not speak unkindly of the dead and Queen Adelaide was really most amiable, but they have both been canonized by priestly praise and can afford to bear a little blame from us worldings.” She says she has done what she could to induce the Duchess to exert her influence in favor of the Princess Marie Pie, and try to have an English Gouvernante in the place of one of the four Piedmontese ladies who are now acting in that capacity. But her Royal Highness does not think it possible - perhaps even fears she may make for herself dangerous enemies by the attempt. The following anecdote may give some idea of these guides of the royal princess. A Turinese lady of rank meeting one of them the other day said “Madam, I went to pay a visit to your daughter yesterday and -”

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“Oh yes!” exclaimed the countess, “she told me how delighted she was to see you!” [illegible] replied “et” continued the first, with provoking coolness, “je ne l’ai pas trouvĂ©e Ă  la maison.” If Miss Arbesser is not mistaken, the poor princess Marie’s intellectual development is much what might be expected from such surroundings; her morale fortunately seems to be far better than could be looked for. The little Duke of Genoa seems to interests Miss Arbesser a good deal. She thinks him a child of great sensibility, and of remarkable mechanical and even artistic genius - more likely, in fact, to distinguish himself as a poet than as a prince. Of the heir apparent and Prince Amadeo she speaks quite enthusiastically, but says, what they are they owe to their military education, which has taken them, in part at least, out of the hands of the priests. It is to be hoped the little Duke will have the same good fortune some day. “The poor Duchess,” my chatty friend says, “often sighs when she sees the poor child led to his carriage by the Marchese della Rovere on one side and another governour on the other, and exclaims,”They will take my boy for an idiot when they see him led about in this way.” If my young gossip ever paused long enough to give me an opportunity to pronounce one whole sentence, I should be almost worldly enough to suspect some mischief under all this frankness, but she never waits to hear either assent or dissent from her auditors

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Mr Crafts & family from Boston, & Col. Winthrop (& family I believe) from N.Y. arrived here to-day. It is not very pleasant to meet lukewarm Americans just now & even our respect for Mrs C. personally and our still [illegible] greater regard for her parents are hardly sufficient to secure a welcome for the party. Col. Winthrop, I shall suffer to speak for himself, and if the first part of the anecdote he tells of himself - and he told it to Mr Marsh this morning - is not very probable, and the last not very creditable to him as a gentleman it is his fault & not mine. “I was in Florence some years ago spending the winter, and the Grand Chamberlain of the Grand Duke said to me one evening,”There is no one in Florence officially authorized to present Americans at Court & the G. D. proposes to give you that privilege if you are disposed to accept it. Accordingly I received formal notice that I should be expected to present Americans etc - . Not long after an American introduced himself to me and seemed surprised that I did not recollect him. “Do you not remember me, Col. Winthrop?” he said, “I used to furnish you with carriages at”__ “Well, and do I owe owe you any thing,” I asked - “O no,” he replied, in some confusion,“but I understood you had the privilege of presenting Americans at Court and -” I cut him short by saying it was a private privilege which I did not feel at liberty to exert except for the benefit of personal friends.” If money that one has not earned makes a man more respectable than money that one has earned this Col. W. may have claims beyond the man he insulted, but as to any qualities of heart or intellect I must see the latter to believe him his inferior.

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The weather continues so cold as to make a fire necessary at evening and the frost is said to have injured the fruit-trees and still more the mulberies which were just leaving out beautifully. It is really sad after six weeks without a particle of frost that such a relapse should be experienced. The fall of snow on Monday did much mischief to the trees around some of the villas, breaking & uprooting them. We drove along the banks of the river towards the north of the city and enjoyed the luxuriant grain-fields most heartily. Mr Marsh had a long talk with Pulszky to-day. He believes it is the intention of Austria to attack Italy the first moment she dares, and he quite agrees with Mr Marsh that Lord Palmeston [Palmerston’s] wordy friendship for the Italian Cause means nothing whatever on the part of England, though some good may indirectly come of it. Every military man speaks of the late retreat of the Rebels from Manasses as inexplicable except on the admission that Gen. McClellan is either either [sic] an imbecile or a traitor. It is to be hoped he will soon give some evidence that he is neither the one or the other. There are very audible thunder-mutterings in the gathering clouds here and it would not be surprising if a storm were to burst forth at any moment. There is a rumor that a number of English frigates have appeared in the bay of Naples, and show a disposition to play off a game there to match the Emperor at Rome. I wish it might be so–as it may help bring events to a crisis.

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In a drive with Mrs Stanley to day I tried to learn a little more about the good society here apart from the haute societé. Mrs S. is very independent in her selection of acquaintances and really knows very well what materiel there is here, but she is so English in the character of her mind that it is next to impossible to make her hear a question, or if one is fortunate enough to succeed in that, to get an answer. The national fogs have certainly told at last on the intellects of these amiable islanders. I went to enquire and leave compliments for our precious old friend Plana who has been quite ill - was glad indeed to hear he was better. - Col. Cluseret writes rather a discouraging letter from the American army which disturbs us a good deal - but much allowance must be made for the prejudices of a foreigner.

Good old Mrs Simpson undertook to give me some account of Miss Bertons philanthropic operations for the Piedmontese, but there was such an English mistiness about it that I could make little of the story. At first it appeared that Miss Berton was an American, then that perhaps she was - that she was furnishing Bibles and giving school instruction to the Piedmontese - that she did all this somewhere in Switzerland - that the idea was suggested to her by a person she met when travelling, but of whom she could never hear anything afterwards, though she advertised etc. etc.

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I succeeded in getting one answer to one question, - namely how the Piedmontese laboring classes were to be benefitted by a school in Switzerland! “Oh I meant the Piedmontese who were at work on the railroads on the other side of the mountains.” This was something and may serve as a basis of further inquiry. The diplomatic corps are all grumbling that the King invites them to meet him at Naples and leaves them to make the five hundred mile trajet as they can, giving them their choice between brigands by land and coast boats by sea. The Prussian Minister takes this occasion to recall an experience of his own a few years ago. He was at Nice and invited by his Majesty to meet him at Genoa. There was no way to get there on the day named except by boat - the ordinary coasting boat between Nice and Genoa. The Prussian Minister went on board - the freight that day was pigs and a very full freight at that. The Minister says “the sea was very rough. I was very sick, the pigs were very sick, and the rest may be left to the imagination.” I have no doubt if it were once suggested to the king he would immediately order a corvette to take us which might be done without inconvenience or expense to the Government. As to ourselves the ten day rule will serve as an excuse and we shall not go. This evening we went to the Viscontis to a soirĂ©e musicale. The music was admirable The principle performers were Madame Ferrares, Madame Richetta and the Countess Castellenga. The first was a celebrated theatrical singer, but always a person of excellent character and now married to a highly respectable advocate. The second too I think has sung publicly, though I am not quite sure. The Countess Castellenga, a pleasing woman of about forty has only just discovered her extraordinary power and compass of voice and she now devotes herself entirely to its cultivation. There were some notorieties present but on the whoe the company seemed to be selected rather with reference to its capacity for enjoying the music than from any other consideration. The princess–or rather the Marchesa Solariro, whose mother was a real Hindoo princess, sat at my right hand. She is now a woman of fifty five, perhaps more, prodigiously fat but with an agreeable face and very lady-like manners. The old Marchesa Spinola, one of the quaintest specimens of the olden time that we have seen was among the guests. The little, hoopless, old thing looked so funny between the full blown women who sat each side of her - but when she spoke it was the voice of a giant - not even a giantess - rather deep, though, than loud. I fancy M Bloody Mary spoke in the same key, yet Heaven forbid I should intimate that there is anything bloody about this fantastic looking Marchesa. She seems extremely good natured and her first question to Mr Marsh when he was presented to her was: “Did you bring any parrots from America?” and on his replying in the negative, she added: “Why I should have supposed you would, they are so plenty there.” He was extremely diverted with the old lady, says she is a thorough original and he hopes to see more of her. Some one was wicked enough to tell her that Madame Benedetti did not go to see her because she had heard that “she was old and ugly and did not go out any more”. Poor old lady! I dare say she cares more to see Madame Benedetti’s two little miniature parrots than to see their mistress. I was amused at the address of Count Farcito, a most dignified old gentleman, as he came up to Mrs Stanley. “Est-ce-que vous m’aimez toujours!” “Oui, oui, toujours!” replied Mrs Stanley, and I added “Oui, Monsieur le Comte, c’est vrai–parce qu’elle vient de me faire sa confidante” and it was true that she was that moment telling me how much she admired him.

Two of Kossuth’s sons were here today. Attractive young men who have learned so much from exile that they are willing to work. They are both in the employment of this government as engineers. I hope they will come and see us often as I wish to make such young men feel that they are not less respected for daring to be independent.

Ill in bed both yesterday & to-day, and Carrie is not much better though she is obliged to make some

This is a menu that has been pasted in.

PRANZO AL MINISTERO DEGLI AFFARI ESTERI 21 Aprile 1862. Minuta del Pranzo

Vini Minestra primaverile alla Reale Capri Buccolotti di Dama e creste alla Villa Reale Fleury Trota salsa burro di granchi Filetto di bue all'Imperiale Romanée Pollastri alla Cavalliera Presciutto Inglese con gelatina Costolette di vitello in Bella vista

PUNCH ALLA ROMANA

Asparagi al burro Reno Carcioffi all'Italiana Faggiani allo spiedo con crescione Lafite Sogliole in Mayonese allo spicco Plum pudding al rhum Ciampagna Croccante in bocca di frutta guarnito di Plombiera

FRUTTA

Caluso vecch.mo

Sra Fida Doyeni

good-bye visits. Mr Marsh dined with the New Ministry - it does not impress him as possessing the ability of the last. The sympathy expressed by them all in the success of the good cause in America was most satisfactory however. In making some morning visits on the ladies of the D. C. the question of the Comtesse Marini’s position came up, most of the ladies declaring she had no diplomatic rights whatever, being only mother & not wife of a minister. Mr Marsh mentioned our experience at Athens where the English Minister claimed for his niece all the honors of his own position on the ground that she was the presiding lady of his family, and when the Greek Government refused to give her that the place he considered her entitled to the E. government took up the matter - Madame Pluskow, the Grande Maitresse was sent away, and Miss Wyse was took her place at Court balls etc just as if she had been the wife and not the niece of Sir Thomas. Mad. Benedetti says that at the Court of St James they acknowledge no such right, - in any lady connected with the D.C. unless a wife - but we all know that what England allows is no criterion as to what she will claim.

We have just heard of the death of Kossuth’s daughter - a sad thing for the whole family. The prince of Capua died this morning at the Hotel d’Europe. A carbuncle was the immediate cause of his death, but he seems to have been suffering much as his brother, the late Bomba did. His family are said to be greatly afflicted, but the scenes reported to have taken place between his wife and some

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other members of her family–Lady de Norbend and Miss Smith [Smyth] - could not have been very edifying to the dying man. The princess herself, having become a Romanist and knowing her husband to be born such, naturally wished him to have the consolations of the Roman Church. The other ladies were stormy and said - probably when milder remonstrances had failed - that only a fool could put trust in such things. It is to better hoped the poor man was insensible to such discussions. Telegrams of a national victory near Corinth and of the surrender of Iland [Island] No 10. We can hardly wait for confirmation. Mr Marsh went to see Mrs Solvyns whose visit I missed yesterday by being in bed. We found both her and her mother as much excited as ourselves about home affairs & as scornful of traitors, and as indignant against England. It will be a great comfort to us to have them here.

The priceless Abbé gave us this evening a very entertaining account of the Expedition just set out for Persia partly diplomatic, partly scientific. He says it originated in an embarrassment of Cavour with regard to the Italian Minister then at Constantinople but that it was never intended by originator to be carried out. So Ricasoli understood it and let it drop - but the new Ministry to do something took it up again, and if the Abbé is not entirely mistaken it is a most ill-digested affair. The Count San Germano is one of the envoyés, Count Grimaldi another - both lively young men who will enjoy it, but whether they will utilise it in any sense may be well doubted. It seems a pity for this government in its present condition to waste any thing. The family of the Prince of Capua went to Stupenigi [Stupinigi] to-day where the king gives them a home as long as they wish to stay. People say that this unhappy man is greatly regretted by his wife & children - and yet he is the very man who shot down a peasant for cutting a stick on his grounds near Naples, and who was for years the terror of the neighborhood for this and similar acts.

Had a pleasant visit from Mad. Pulszky and her fine children - she is no common woman & inspires one with more confidence than does her husband. Madame Benedetti came in afterward, and I looked as usual in vain for the secret of her unpopularity which seems now to extend even to those who at first defended her. Carrie & Giachino left for Florence this evening.

In bed all day with violent cold etc. was obliged to decline Miss Arbesser’s visit this eve. Mr Marsh had a long talk with Gen. Durando, Min. of F. Affairs, this morning, both on Italian and American politics. He is a simple, earnest-hearted man prematurely broken down physically. Like every other Italian he is heartily with our Gov.

Still in bed, and of course obliged to give up the usual Sat. reception which is gradually dying a natural death as the warm weather comes on.

The anniversary of our leaving N.Y. and Mr M. & I spent the day in extemporising a Jeremiad on the results of the year as compared with what seemed then the most reasonable expectation. Who dreamed then that half the officers in actual command were traitors. Who dreamed Cameron would remain Sec. of War - nine months - and Welles of the Navy through the year. But God disposes, and He will not let the vine He has planted in the West be utterly trampled out. He has given us many victories, if not yet one overwhelming one.

Crept out into my writing cabinet, but still not well enough to dress. We are trying to make some plan for an escapade into the country for a few days - Apropos of this came up the question whether my donkey-saddle had been re-stuffed since our last mountain excurtion excursion when it so galled the poor beast that bore it. Mr Marsh could not be persuaded to accept my repeated assurances that it had been put in order, and I was obliged to call on the infalliable Alexander for confirmation of the fact. The sceptic seemed a little confused, and I mischievously advised him to go the carriage house and examine the matter for himself as one could never be quite sure without the evidence of one’s own senses. “Ah,” said he, “I see! you think I had better try it on myself!”

A letter from Mr Dillon, whom we fancied half-way to America or somewhere else, dated at Turin expresses to Mr Marsh much much astonishment that he should be spoken of by some correspondent of the N.Y. Times as a person of at least very lukewarm loyalty if not actually a favorer of Secession. Mr Marsh replied that he knew nothing whatever of any such article, but, on the other hand, that he could not understand the surprise he expressed at seeing such a statement after his rather public discussion of American Politics at the Convegno dei deputati, where, as he himself admitted, he was sharply taken up for his language against his own Gov. I am glad Mr Marsh has had this opportunity of showing Mr Dillon that he has no disposition to be any thing but frank with him, and that the necessity of avoiding personal altercation with him, for the sake of the respectibility of the Legation so long as he remained connected with it, alone prevented him from speaking his mind to him from the beginning. Miss Arbesser spent the evening with me again, but as she [illegible] unluckily stumbled upon that most stultifying of topics - Spiritualism - alias table-turnings, I was not greatly edified - and besides, by insisting on trying certain very stale experiments with a key, she forced me to tell her frankly that I could see her arm and hand move with a most natural muscular change of place which made the gyrations of the key any thing but a miracle. By persuading her to lean her hand and arm against an upright, firm support, the pranks of the key ceased instantaneously. She will not like me the better for this unless she loves truth more sincerely than most. She gave a strange account of [illegible] Brasier de St. Simon’s devotion to this absurd delusion. He, it appears, is one of the great patrons of the science, and even now devotes much of his time to his clairvoyants. She spoke of a book dedicated to him containing the usual amount, I should think, of mock miracles - and admitted that the Austrians alluded to in it as the A___ family was her own, & that she was herself, the young lady, so often mentioned.

Mrs Solvyns, whom I had directed should be made an exception to the general order not to receive visitors, was with me a half hour to-day. She is quiet and unpretending, but one cannot feel [fail] to see at once that she has much strength and self-reliance of character - a true specimen of a well-bred American woman - without the grace, certainly, that is so common with us, but this is more than atoned for by the entire absence of that pert affectation so frequently seen in our city girls & young women. On the whole I am greatly pleased with this my compatriote. We had a hearty laugh this morning over a letter addressed to Mr M. by the Consul at Leghorn, Mr Stephens. He says, “you will examine &c &c and report fully to me, as I wish &c &c.” Mr Stephens seems to forget fancy he is not addressing, in his capacity of schoomaster, one of his western urchins. Mr Marsh says “it’s lucky for me that I’m not within reach of his ferrule.” I suggested by way of excuse for Mr Stephens, that he no doubt supposed himself First Consul. To-day we had fresh figs and strawberries in abundance and grown in the immediate vicinity of Turin too.

Drove to Moncalieri and returned by the other side of the river. The country is looking most beautifully green but the fine lights & shades so charming on the Collina in winter fade away and are lost in all this abundance of verdure. The peasants were dancing their May-dance near Moncalieri, but there were very few and not much seems to be made of the May festa in Italy. Speaking this evening with the Abbe Baruffi of the changes now taking place so rapidly even in the Oriental world, I mentioned the fact that when we were in Constantinople the ladies of the diplomatic corps were never presented to the Sultan - that one year after we left, His Majesty visited them in their boxes at his Theatre, as I was told by Mrs Solvyns the other day. The AbbĂ© then gave an account of the reception of Count Sauti Sauli who went to Constantinople as Minister from the king of Sardinia in 1825. The minister, in enumerating the titles of his master had the imprudence to say “king of Cyprus, Jerusalem etc.” He was stopped by the Grand Vizier who, in the coarsest language, demanded how the Christian dog dared speak thus in the presence of the true lord of the East etc etc. His manner is represented as most violent & insulting. After the best apology that could be made by the Giaour he was suffered to finish his address to the Sultan. Then the great Padisha of the Faithful opened his august lips, but at that instant a spring was touched, the water gushed from a fountain in the apartment and not a sound except its dashing flow reached the ears of the infidel who was held unworthy to hear the voice of the vicegerent of the Prophet. Such was Turkey in 1825. - He also told us an amusing story about certain bounties offered here for killing wolves soon after the end of the Napoleonic wars, and quoted from proclamations in the [sic] which the wolves were spoken of as ‘i prelodati lupi’. Italianissimo this certainly. An account of a robbery in which he was himself a sufferer was also very characteristic. Each passenger in the dilligence was bound & searched, with the exception of a lady whom they [illegible] requested to give up her purse voluntarily without forcing them to treat her with this indignity. “Gentlemen,” she said, “you know very well that the husband & not the wife carries the money. I have just seen you take all he has” - and she pointed to a man still lying on the ground - “but I can offer you a pinch of snuff, and the box too if it pleases you.” So saying she took out her snuff-box, the robbers took each a prise but gallantly returned the box. The travellers were then suffered to proceed. Just before arriving at their destination the lady took out a purse of six thousand francs and begged to be allowed to supply the wants of her fellow-travellers and expecially of the discreet person who had so quietly acquiesced in her ruse.

Had a long drive with Mrs Stanley - but came home weary & unwell, and filled with wonder that a person can be so good as she is and not be better - so sensible and yet no wiser - so frank and yet so but half sincere.

Learned many curious things about the Neapolitan Gov. to-day from Baron Fava who was at the N. Court when the last crash came. He advised me to draw out Count Salmour on the subject - he having been sent by Cavour to carry on negotiations with the young king. Fava gives a very interesting sketch of the young queen, and says if the king had had brains enough to have followed her counsels intea instead of being guided by his bigotted, priest-ridden mother he might have preserved his throne for another ten years at least. Mr Fenton of the English Legation was presented to us this evening by Mrs Stanley. He has been attached to the E. Embassy at Washington and seems to have learned a good deal about America during the two years he was there. Though he was with Lord Normanby in Naples and is said to sympathise with him in his views, he expressed no illiberal opinions to us, and his conversation showed much power of observation and vastly more culture than one generally finds among that class of diplomats. Better still, and rarest of all for an Englishman, he is not deaf, but can hear and even reply to a remark made to him, or an explanation given. He does not think it possible - and he speaks after ten years residence in Spain & Italy - [illegible] for any one of Northern blood even to come thoroughly into the intimacies of the Southern races. How far his opinions on this subject are just must depend very much upon his knowledge of the language of the races, and of this I know nothing. The two great obstacles between us are certainly language and religion. Few persons ever learn a foreign language well enough to be really expansive in it. We are never quite ourselves except when we speak our mother tongue, and we forget when a foreigner is trying to speak it with us, that he too is then no longer himself - that he says what he does not intend to say - that he cannot say what he wishes to say. Difference in religion, even where it is only nomal nominal, erects a most formidable barrier. In this respect we find Italy less advanced than we hoped. Men who talk in the boldest manner about the corruptions of the Romish Church, who denounce popes, cardinals, and priestly power more vehemently than we should do ourselves, who in fact say all that the warmest protestant could say, shrink with a sort of nervous horror from an Italian who has become a protestant. A marked proof of this we have in the feeling manifested towards our friend Botta who has broken his priestly vows and married our remarkable countrywoman, Miss Lynch. We supposed he had many friends here - we find nobody will speak of him if it is possible to avoid it, and when pressed they all say “it would be wiser for him not to return here - he would not be molested in any way, but he would not find his position agreeable.” And yet they charge him with nothing but protestantism & marriage. There is a long stride from this state of things to real liberality.

We drove this afternoon to the Venaria Reale once a magnificent place, but in a ruinous condition since the French Revolution - it deserves another day which we hope to give to it. Mr Marsh went to hear the a lecture of Ferrara on the political writers of Italy in the 13th century - very interesting.

A search - unsuccessful - for the villa of the de Bunsens took us this afternoon to a most charming country-seat high up the Collina towards Moncaliere [Moncalieri]. The ascent was steep, but the road good, and the view from the villa enchanting. The garden was in admirable condition, and all a-blush with climbing roses which seemed to cover every wall and wreathe every window. This Collina abounds in the most glorious sites for summer residences.

Mr Edward Jones & family of N.Y. were here yesterday and are to leave for Paris this evening - persons of refined manners & kind hearts, and free from the swell which makes so many a rich American an object of ridicule in Europe. We were to have joined Mrs Stanley and party on an excursion to the Superga this morning but could not. In the evening we went, as we did last evening, into our theatre to hear Scriveneck who is here again for a few nights. Mr Tourte and Schmidthals came to our box, and it seemed quite like winter gaieties again.

A most quiet day at home - disturbed only by anxiety about affairs at in our own country which look less promising. May the hearts of our people grow strong in proportion to the danger that threatens within & without. Thank God there are still some unselfish, truth-loving souls left even in jealous, ungenerous England. Lady Estcourt writes me to-day, “I watch the Federal successes with the utmost loyalty.” and Lady Lyell writes to a friend here, Mme Pulszky, “I am so pained by the ungin ungenerous, the unjust, the untrue remarks which I hear in England hourly on the great American question, that I sometimes wish I could leave my country till this contest is settled, or till my countrymen show more love for truth.”

Staid at home all day in a sort of half expectation of Lady Estcourt’s arrival from Pisa. The temperature is now most delicious - the thermometer from 70 to 75 day after day. The benefit for Scriwaneck went off very well this evening. ‘Les brouillĂ©s depuis Wagram’ was extremely well done - but the court-scenes in a subsequent play were most absurd. Every body is talking about the enthusiasm and the gaiety at Naples - and if it were not for the money difficulty I should half regret that we are not there to see. Rattazzi has just given great satisfaction to us protestants by confirm ing a grant of land in Naples for the site of a Protestant Church - the grant having been made by Garibaldi when he was dictator. The Minister says, that, having sent a Commission to Naples to see that no private or public wrong would be done by this gift, he is happy to say that he finds only good can come of it, and therefore an English Church may be built at once.

Mrs Tottenham told me this morning about a very low imposition practised upon Sir James Hudson by one of the young men of the French Legation some time last autumn. An extremely pretty girl carried a letter to Sir James signed by the French Legation giving a very touching history of the girl and begging Sir James to assist her to return to her friends, & saying that the French Legation would be most happy to do as much in return if any English subject should at any future time be in like distress. The kind, generous-hearted Sir James talked a few moments with the girl who acted her part of injured innocent so well as to confirm entirely the statements in the letter. Sir James then sent to the French Legation - as the most delicate way of aiding the girl - by Capt. Smallwood, a sum of money quite sufficient to send her safely to her friends. A few days after Capt. Smallwood met Mademoiselle on the arm of one of the young men of the F. Legation under circumstances more than suspicious. He reported at once to Sir James, who, of course at once immediately sent to the proper quarter for explanations. It turned out that the interesting young person had long been living au frais of the noble employé of the French government, and whether the trick upon Sir James was merely to supply the fair one with some little bijou that her protector could not for the moment indulge her in, or whether it was a complot to injure the character of Sir James does not appear. To the credit of the F. government however the young man was at once recalled.

My most intelligent visitor to-day was Mr Levi - deputato - an Israelite I doubt not, but a man of knowledge & sense. He is in a state of intense excitement about the American struggle, and tells us, what every body tells us, that the Italians are as unanimous in their sympathy with American as they are in their determination to have a free & united Italy. He is very anxious that our Government should take some steps to secure more attention & more justice from the European press. He says the course of England during this rebellion of ours, and the course of the allied Powers in Mexico should teach us that our policy of non-interference has not saved us from the jealous hate of the of the former, as well as of the latter, and henceforth we shall have to regard ourselves as most deeply concerned in European politics. In the friends of liberty we shall have friends, - in a haughty aristocracy, or in a tyrannical despotism, only enemies through all time. From the United States of America came the electric spark that shook the thrones of the old world in the last half century - from them came steam, from them the electric telegraph, those mighty agents in human progress, and from them must come yet greater benefits to Europe.

A little rain for a great rarity, but it did not bring the expected Secretary, Mr Clay. No telegram from America either which is a disappointment.

This morning came the long-expected Mr Clay. My imagination has been very busy ever since we heard of his appointment. Sometimes fancy has painted him a dashing, roaring young scion of the West, well acquainted with society as it is in those parts, at other times I have thought he might be one of the many young Americans who have travelled a good deal in Europe some with, some without profit, and sometimes I have feared he might prove a mere Gorilla. Alas for human calculations. He is not in the least like either of my fancy sketches. A tall and very handsome boy, possibly twenty one but looking younger, modest but not awkward in manner though not without certain strongly marked westernisms in dress and language. He knows a very little French, but cannot speak a word of it, and Italian is a strange to him as would he the speech of the angels. There is, however, something so gentle, so confiding, in his full dark-brown eyes that he excites interest at once, and if he has the necessary energy & industry to fit himself for his duties official & social, he may make an accomplished man. There is, on the other hand, a certain spoiled child air about him, which makes me fear he has no habit of doing anything which is not agreeable at the moment. We shall do every thing in our power to help the young man on, but certainly to make a person of his age & experience secretary of Legation seems a strange thing The AbbĂ© Baruffi told us this evening, without expressing the least doubt as to the truth of what he was stating, that Gen Goyon did tell the Pope that the Emperor of the French had determined to withdraw his troops from Rome, that the Pope at once telegraphed his Nunci in Paris. The latter went instantly to the Empress who fainted on being told the news and was senseless for three quarter’s of an hour. The Emperor was then induced to delay the withdrawal. The AbbĂ© however evidently believes the day near at hand, and his means of knowledge as a priest, and his sympathy for the Pope make us attach some weight to his opinion.

We were to have fled into the wilderness to-day to give Moses a chance to take up his carpets - Moses, whom we have kept off for a fortnight, - Mr Marsh says by means of bacon-fumes - but in fact by prayers and promises - from taking possession of his precious floor-cloths. We did want to escape the confusion of this household change from winter to summer, but when at last, the all-important Alex - was cured of his boil and the lagging secretary had arrived and was taught how to visĂĄ a passport, then the envious heavens grew black, and unless we go in thunder lightning & in rain we must give it up till to-morrow.

Still a pouring rain and we are obliged to admit Shylock as we dare not make further promises. The confusion is edifying. Mr Sidney Brooks comes in the midst of it, and to my great comfort hears Mr M’s opinion of the truly true policy of our Gov. Fortunately Mr Brooks is a true gentleman & therefore may be talked with even on subjects upon which one differs from him. Between 2 & 5 the clouds break a little & the sun looks faintly out. Thereupon a rush of visitors such as I have not had for a week - one or two I not a little sorry to miss - Madame Farina for instance - but admission at that moment was out of the question there not being a quiet corner in which to seat her. Just after dinner came Miss Arbesser and was of course told I did not receive etc, etc, but she courageously insisted that her name should be taken to me, and as my own reading-cabinet was reduced to something like order we ‘took her in’. She was full of enthusiasm as usual, and said she had quantities of curious things to tell me, only she could not stay this time, as she had another visit to make and must be at the palace again at eight. Just then a most blinding flash of lightning with thunder to match, followed by a mild type of deluge, decided her to give up the other visit & I was to send her home in the carriage a little before eight. Among other experiences since our last evening together, she had been to see Madame Pasta once so celebrated in the musical world. While waiting in the drawing-room for the old lady to appear, she occupied herself with studying of a portrait of the artist taken when she was at the zenith of her fame. She describes it as remarkably lovely, and says she was just saying to herself, “no wonder my father admired her so much!” when a round little old woman rolled in, with a moustache that would have excited the envy of most young men of twenty five, and a voice rough as an old admirals - and this was Pasta! She found her lively & pleasant, and ready to talk of the past, but could not discover one remant of the grace & taste that that [sic] might have been looked for even when her beauty had utterly faded. Pasta has a daughter married to a very respectable

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Untranscribed piece of a letter to Mrs Marsh, written in Italian

engineer in Turin, and they have a daughter whose is said to have something of her grandmother’s talent for music. This child receives lessons from Madame Unio, wife of Unio the court-pianist, who also gives lessons to the princess Margaret. Miss Arbesser, who had heard of the extraordinary performances of this child, and who knew her parents to be in every way honorable if not noble, asked Madame Unio if she would not bring her little pupil some day to play for the princess. The teacher promised to do so the next time she came to give Madame Margaret a lesson which would be the day but one following. In the mean time Miss Arbesser spoke incidentally of the arrangement to the Duchess. Her R.H. exclaimed - “Oh, my dear, that will never do! You must indeed make some excuse! - it will never do!” Miss A, was confounded - “Will your R.H. explain?” “Why, I should at once be called to account for such a breach of court-etiquette.” “But it would be no breach [of etiquette] for a princess of the house of Austria, or of England to listen to the playing of a talented child of her own age even if she were not noble.” “You are quite very right” said the Duchess, “but here, I assure you it is quite different If that or any other little girl of Madame Margaret’s age, not nobly born, should be introduced into the palace in the way you propose, depend upon it, it would cause me much annoyance.” Her Royal Highness then went on to say that, last summer at Stresa Count Borromeo brought with him his own little son [and] the son of a Milanese friend of his to see the child duke of Genoa. The governors of the little Duke found out somehow, that the little playmate of the young Borromeo wh was not of noble blood, and such was the storm raised about it that she herself was obliged to tell Count Borromeo the whole affair and beg him not to bring the child again!

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torino il di 19 Maggio

Egregia Signora!

Credendo che il tempo fresco e piovoso le avrĂ  fatto diferire l'escursioone biellese, mi permetto presentarle il noso romanzo americano, l' Allumeur de reverbirel di cui Ella mi fece molti encomi. Le auguro di cuore una parte della viva soddisfazione che ho gustato nel leggere questo grazioto libretto tutte le pagine spirano religione, benevolenza, civilia vera; Ella vi troverĂ  probabilmente qualche cosa di piu nella pittura di una societĂ  e di luoghi a lei maggioremente nose. Gli ultimi capitoli poi mi hanno commosso specialmente fino a farmi vorsare lagrime in copia. Le piccole macchie del libro sono dovute al fango di cui furono imbrattate le mie povere camere nella triste circonstanza dell' incendio. Aggradisca l'espressione della mia particolare considerazione, mi zammenti al degnissimo di lei Sigra Consorte e mi onori di credermi sempre Della S.V. Crimasso[?]

devozione ed aff. servisore[?] G F Baruffi

Poor Miss Arbesser was obliged to go in person to Madame Unio and then to the parents of the little prodigy to explain and apologize as she best could. After hearing this story I could not help exclaiming, “Is it possible that this is the Italian Court in the nineteenth century - and reformed Italy too.” “Oh,” said Miss A. “you shall hear more - and I will bring you proofs too! you cannot come to me on account of your health - so I will bring you some of the Jesuit books which the poor princess had to use as text-books when I first came to the palace. Yes, you shall see them with your own eyes, or I should scarcely expect to be believed even by a Protestant. You shall see how all history is falsified how some of the most infamous crimes that have ever disgraced humanity are - not palliated, excused - but justified, commended, as done in God’s service. And what think you this unhappy child of nine years was studying - this child who had never been taught where London, or Berlin or Vienna was - ? The Revue Catholique! - yes, I assure you, she was expected to read every day a certain number of pages of that Review & then to answer questions upon it. The unprincipled devote who had the charge of her seemed to hope to make up for her own shortcomings by forcing works of supererogation on her royal victim.” I said, “Was Her R.H. the mother, aware of all this?” “No, of very little of it, but even if she had been, she could not then have helped matters much. The Countess Monticello had powerful family connections at Court, and was sustained by the Codini secular & ecclesiastical, the Duchess herself being looked upon with jealousy as an alien, and having no right to interfere with the education of the royal scions of Piedmont. Besides this, every pains had been taken to prevent any thing like [illegible] maternal & filial intimacy between the mother & the child. The Duchess had been told that her child was passionate & obstinate, the princess that her mother was not satisfied with her and that in her position it was not proper that she should be troubled with children.” “And how,” I said, “was a change effected?” “The medical attendant of Madame Margaret became satisfied that she was very unhappy, & that her strange reserve was not natural. At last he succeeded in drawing from her one morning, as an explanation of her paleness & languor, the fact that she had had no breakfast. The doctor asked further, and the princess confessed that she had had but three breakfasts during the winter, and this for punishment for various offences, but generally for failure in prayers & catechisms. The doctor went directly to the duchess and told he had long suspected that the young princess was treated with too much severity by her gouvernante, that he was now certain of it. The duchess took counsel of friends and Miss Arbesser I was recommended to her. She wrote to me at once, giving her reasons for being dissatisfied with the Countess Monticello, but saying at the same time she could not offer me her place - that she could only get permission to have a young lady with the princess as institutrice but the Countess must still be gouvernante. I came for three months by way of experiment. Before I had been in the palace one month I went one morning to my writing-desk & turning over some papers it struck me that they must have visited by some one. I searched further & found certain letters missing - among them the very letter first written me by the duchess. I examined my key as I drew it out - there was wax upon it. I went to her R.H. and told what I had discovered. I knew it might be thought an intrigue of my own, but I trusted in truth to vindicate herself. The duchess immediately summoned the maids of all the ladies who had access to her own app apartments and examined them very strictly and with great dexterity. The Countess Monticello’s woman confessed that, at the direction of her mistress, she had taken an impression in wax from my lock & from the keys of the duchess herself! This brought matters to a crisis. The Countess was told that when her presence was again desired at court she would be sent for. I then told her R.H. that I was satisfied I could be of no real service to the princess if I was to be under the direction of a gouvernante, & though I was quite contented with the name of institutrice, I could only retain my position with the understanding that I was to have no superior but herself in the management of Madame Margaret. This was settled and I now remain till some Jesuitical intrigue displaces me.” And I said to myself, ‘that will not be long if you are dealing frankly with me’. Miss Arbesser then gave me a description of the way in which the princess was taught to pray - the things prayed for, the length of time given to it, the litany to be repeated on her knees by way of punishment etc all of which she persuaded the duchess to become an unseen eye-and-ear-witness of. Not very long after the retirement of the Countess Monticello, the princess, in one of her moments expansion said to Miss A - I give Miss A’s own words. “Mademoiselle, I was very wicked before you came to me - I was indeed - I was so wicked that I dared not even tell my confessor, but I will tell you. I used to pray God to kill that naughty Countess - I could not help it!”

We left Turin about 2 oclock this afternoon and came to this quaint old town at the foot of the mountains by rail. It was a three hours journey only, but that was time enough for an unfavorable change in the weather. The thunder-shower which overtook us in the rail carriage was over before we arrived at B. but the signs are not very propitious for the morrow. Donkeys and mules too seem never to be used here for excursions which is a great disappointment to me.

We passed a very comfortable night in our inn, La Testa Grigia, and though the weather looked a little doubtful we decided to venture an excursion to the Oropa to pay our respects to one of St Luke’s black virgins. This ugly image the worthy rector assured us was brought to this place by St Eusebaus [Eusebius] in the fourth century. The drive was a very interesting one–a steady and sometimes steep ascent for nearly 3 hours, the last mile of the road being thickly studded with chapels. There were also several large hydropathic establishments at different elevations well supplied no doubt by the crystal mountain streams gushing out everwhere from the rocks [illegible] . The fields were most brightly green, with such quantities of wild-flowers, some very beautiful. Vast meadows were almost literally covered with the Narcissus, so pure and so sweet. The air was heavy with their rich odour. The church which contains the shrine, is of very tittle [little] interest, the buildings about it are of prodigious extent–the rector told us they frequently lodged three thousand pilgrims at once. The pilgrims are nominally lodged gratis, though it is intimated that an offering is expected in proportion to the means of the pious visitor. The reverend father gave us an excellent cup of coffee, and the pictures in the room in which he recieved received us were interesting. The view of the plain below must have been be magnificent in fine weather - but unluckily the rain came on almost at the moment of our arrival and the clouds had greatly interfered with the prospect all the way. For some three hours we waited and then set out to return in the rain, after all.

We drove up to the old town this morning, which and found it commanded an immensely extensive prospect. The hill on which it stands entirely overlooks the newer town, and of in fact half Piedmont and Lombardy. We were taken to a palace which is now for sale. The first object which struck us on entering the grounds was a horse chesnut tree of magnificent proportions. As we drove under it and the carriage stopped, I could not help an exclamation of astonishment and delight. The huge branches of this giant-tree hung almost as pendant as those of the willow, and we seemed in the centre of some Gothic cathedral. I begged Mr M. to measure the diameter which he found to exceed four feet. The strap of our lorgnette measured the circumference only at three reprises - nearly thirteen and a half feet in all. We were both of us amazed at such a specimen of this species of tree. A second handsome iron gate lead into a fine garden in the midst of which was a pretty fountain with gold and silver fishes in numbers. On our right stood the palace fronting south west and south east with stable and other out-buildings on the north west, the whole stucture inclosing three sides of a square. We entered the palace through the garden and court and passed on to the front from which a boundless prospect opened upon us. The hill drops off on both sides, that is on the south west and south-east, in an irregular but rather rapid slope, and this slope is clothed with larches spruce trees, cypresses, oaks, pines, - in fact almost every variety of three that this tree growing climate affords, and all in the best possible condition. Even on this morning of clouds we could see Novara and Vercelli and countless other towns scattered over the immense, immense plain below us which looked, toward the western and southern horizon, like an ocean, the towers of the far, far off towns appearing like just visible masts at sea. We were told that in fine weather Milan might be seen a few feet above where we were standing, and we did not find this difficult to believe. The distance of Milan from Biella is about seventy miles. We went entirely over this palace, sometimes called Casa Belletti, and found it contained twenty seven rooms suitable for a family and its guests, besides abundant accommodations for an army of servants. The kitchen, the larder, the laundry were all good. There was stable room in abundance. A corridor occupied the whole front below the suite of rooms destined for use, and this corridor which was with entirely enclosed, with plenty of windows, served as a conservatory in winter. Lemon and orange trees with their fruits and their flowers growing together stood in rows outside this corridor, to be brought in again when a change of season should make it necessary to shelter them. There were still remaining in the house certain articles of furniture such as chairs, sofas, bedding, bed curtains etc. The latter - two sets at least - were of the richest crimson silk damask of a quality which is no longer made. We thought there was no doubt that a thousand dollars was a moderate estimate for this furniture. I mention all these details in order to give an idea of the value of such property in Piedmont. This palace is within fifty miles of Turin, with a rail road running directly to the capital, there are at least seven acres of ground belonging to it, it is in perfectly good condition, wanting in no convenience, water, bath room etc., and it is for sale. We were told by the old chatelain, who said he had been fifty three years in the house, that thirly thousand francs had been offered for it, but the Association to which it had been bequeathed hoped to get five thousand more for it. Thirty five thousand francs then, or seven thousand dollars is the value of such a really seniorial e state. Oh, if there was a certainty that we should remain where we are for four years, we should not hesitate to buy it at once. Our house - rent in Turin would pay for it - and then to have such a home afterward! But, alas, there is Rome in doubtful prospect - there is the uncertainty at affairs in our our country! - I should add that Biella, which this palace overlooks, is a manufacturing town containing ten thousand inhabitants Woolen and cotten [cotton] cloths, paper hats etc are made on a large scale.

We drove this morning to Andorno, a large village about an hour and a half from Biella, and here we saw a curious scene. It was market-day and the village was thronged, especially the principal square. In one corner of this square, on some a flight of steps which led to some public building, stood a man who was addressing the multitude. His whole appearance was striking. A plain black hat with a rather broad brim, a black frock coat closely buttoned, on the breast of which hung a silver cross suspended by a tricolored ribbon. His figure was good, his gestures graceful, but very energetic - at times even violent. Our Alexander ran to see, as he said, “if he is talking against us” - meaning against the movement toward Rome. He was soon satisfied. The speaker was Giuseppe Ambrogio, a priest degraded for his heresies, and imprisoned, but released by order of the government, and protected in his freedom of speech by the new laws. He was thundering away like a second Luther, and the applause of his auditors showed that he was not laboring in vain. A schism he boldly advocates if Rome will not reform. God speed him & the like of him - he will do more good than a thousand exotic missionaries. I never longed so much to be an artist as on this occasion. It would have made such a picture - the man himself, who looked half apostolic, half defiant - the great odd, old church a little behind him, and the green hills that rose even above that - the painted saints in heaven, and souls in purgatory on his left hand, the Garibaldi caffe on his right - and then his motley audience men & boys crowding the steps on which he stood, above him, below him & on every side, old women & young, some with the picturesque baskets of the country on their shoulders, some spinning, some knitting, some only listening–here an old man tried to pacify his braying donkey with no other result than a chorus from every brother-donkey in the market, here an enterprising few tried to jostle up a little nearly nearer to the orator–and now a general shouting & clapping gives the breathless reformer time to wipe the perspiration from his forehead. We succeeded in getting one of the hand-bills he was distributing–see opposite page. That Jesuits & the like of them are still powerful in Turin should not discourage us too much it seems.

Mr Marsh went to Turin last eve–& came back at five this afternoon. He felt a little anxious about his unfledged secretary, but found there had been nothing special to do. He found Turin in some excitement from the late sad movement at Bergamo and Brescia. Every body is grieved to know that Garibaldi could have been so unwise. The dull weather reconciles me to a day of illness.

I was not able to go out, and, with the exception of an hour’s walk, Mr Marsh read to me all day. After finishing Mr Botta’s admirable sketch of Cavour he took up ‘L’Italie est-elle la terre des morts,’ by Marc Monier I wish I could make the time & eye-sight to translate this faithful picture of Italy & the Italians & [?] bring it down two years later. It is just what English readers ought to know & generally do not know.

Mr Marsh paid a visit this morning to Monseigneur, the bishop, who courteously sent the abbĂ© ___ to us yesterday, with an apology for not coming in person. He is in town only for a day, as at this season he stays at his villa an hour or two out in the valley. He has lived much in Syria, and frankly confessed that when he had occasion to employ a trust-worthy agent there he always looked out for a Mahomedan & not a christian. Still clouds & illness each making the other of little consequence, either circumstance rendering Alex__’s discovery of the fine saddle-horse a futile thing - alas!

The weather was not promising but we risked a drive to Cossato an hour & a half from Biella and lying N.E. of it. We were not a little amused at reading on a cornor by way of guide these words ‘Da Biella alla Svizzera.’ On reaching Cossato, or rather on turning after we had passed through the hamlet, we saw that this was not the climax of the ludicrous. Here was a large-lettered sign, ‘Dalla Svizzera a Biella!’ The country through which we passed was fertile & beautiful, with splendid villas on some of the finest sites imaginable. The villa Colombiano, a present to that family from the royal house of Piedmont, is grand, and with magnificent grounds. The estates of the Rosazzas are on the princely scale. The walnut-trees are very stately & beautiful, but I was sorry to learn that the devastating effect of the war of Southern Barbarism against Northern Freedom was to be seen even here. The glorious tress are wrought up by English contractors into gunstocks for our Government. Mr Scott, one of the contractors, told Mr Marsh it gave him real pain to see them fall. Another thing troubled me - the unskillful mode of cultivating Indian corn. The earth is heaped up in ridges - this may be important to drain the soil - and these ridges, two feet wide with a foot between and at least a foot hight, are sowed with corn. When it first comes up the shoots are very thick, but when weeded, which is done by hand, it is thinned out considerably. There is in this way, and a great waste of the seed-corn, and the labor of cultivation is immense. Then as to results, Mr Marsh was told by an intelligent gentleman here that the ordinary produce of an acre was about sixteen bushels - I translate of course from giornate & kilograms and the like, but this is the English of it. This would be thought bad farming with us.

Disappointed this morning for the third time in not getting our letters by a sort of Express which would meet small encouragement among Yankees unless it quickened its pace, we concluded to drive towards Graglia, though the clouds gave little promise of allowing us to see much towards the mountains. We were well paid for the attempt, for though we did not think it worth while to go half the distance to the sanctuary - reserving that for better skies - we saw enough to convince us that the views from this hill far exceed those on the Oropa slope. But of this when seen more satisfactorily. - Father Ambrogio, whom we heard at Andorno the other day, passed our window twice yesterday. The servants of the hotel say that about fifteen days ago he was arrested by order of the bishop & carried to prison hand-cuffed and escorted by four gendarmes. He was soon released - they say by order of the king, which of course means by the authorities that have jurisdiction of such matters - and now he uses his liberty with some boldness, as we can witness. They say ‘he was a good priest, very liberal etc’, and the bad priests persecuted him for his patriotism till they drove him into heresy! They evidently think him perfectly right as far as they understand him, but they believe there must be something very wrong which they do not understand since he does not deny that he is a Protestant - and this with them is a fearful name to apply to an Italian though they seem to have an idea that a foreigner may be a Protestant without being a malefactor. I hope we may get a chance to say a word to this poor man before we go away.

Bioglio was the point for which we set out this morning. The way lay for the first hour in the direction of Cossato - then we turned to the left & ascended a little, but the situation was less beautiful or the clouds more unfavorable than usual here, for we did not get so fine a view as we generally have done. On our return however we went over all manner of byeways and had some wonderfully fine glimpses of this boundless plain.

Having observed almost every day since we came here that the early morning was the clearest hour in the day, we were called at 1/2 past 2, and set out at three for Graglia. It was still dark, and as far as we could judge very cloudy. We reached the Monastery at 1/2 past 5. The heavy rolling vapours were playing the most fantastic tricks - now hiding [illegible] completely the heavens & now the earth, now lifting their dark curtains and letting us see for a moment the whole of the vast plain from Turin to Milan, studded thick with cities towns villages & hamlets, the largest a mere speck on a sea of emerald - and now showing through some ragged rent the higher clouds which which were fiery with the sun-rise - I have never seen finer effects from a thick morning mist. But though the wind occasionally drove the fog far away from us still the horizon was never quite clear, and after waiting several hours we returned to Biella greatly impressed with what we had seen, but with a conviction that we even yet only half appreciated the wonders of Graglia. The monastery itself looked far more comfortable and clean than that in Oropa, and we concluded that a month might be spent there very delightfully. We did not ascend to the Sanctuaries as we could have had no better view there in such weather. Mr Marsh went down to Turin tonight hoping to be able to return in the morning.

I rose at five, and finding it a very bright morning, took Alexander and Giachino as compagnions for a ride. We intended to return at 9 for breakfast but found the temptation to scramble a little higher and a little higher up the hills altogether too irresistable. On and on we went till it seemed to me that the whole world was at my feet. West, south and east there seemed no limit to the horizon. The best point of view was from a large villa at the entrance of the village of Pettinengo. Had this been my first view of Piedmont and Lombardy I sould have suspected myself to be in an opium dream. I

At Pettinengo, where we were detained a half hour by the turning of my saddle, I was fortunate enough to stumble again on the heroic Father Ambrogio. I was almost afraid to speak to him for fear of compromising the Minister of the United States, as a crowd gathered around us in a moment. Summoning my courage, however, I told him we had heard a part of his sermon the other day at Andorno, and were much interested; that I wished to know something more of him - whether his religious opinions were the result of his own convictions, or whether he had adopted them in Switzerland, etc. He told me he had become convinced of the great need of reform in his own Church and that he had made use of the time of his banishment “to study religion in England.” He told me also that he had rooms in Beilla, but that he spent his time in preaching and distributing handbills through all the villages in that part of the country. “C’est mon dĂ©sir d’imiter autant que possible les apĂŽtres.” The poor man looked worn in every sense and I longed to give him a Napoleon, ‘but I feared the people,’ and thought it better to do it later on the sly. If we should once be suspected of a wish to interfere with religious matters here we should soon have no influence of any kind.

returned to mine host for a twelve o’clock breakfast. Before I had finished my cup of tea a telegram Le signore sono arrivate - bisogna tonare, hurried us back to Turin, where we arrived safely, at five. Miss Estcourt and Miss Carew were at Trombetta’s expecting Lady Estcourt tomorrow. Miss Arbesser caught sight of me on the balcony and came up to inquire for me, but made a short visit compassionating my great fatigue.

We had a very busy morning putting up curtains, etc, and getting the Casa d’Angennes into its summer toilette At 3 at 8 and 9 P.M. we sent the carriage for Lady Estcourt who did not arrive much to the disappointment of her sisters and ourselves. Dear Miss Estcourt is as good as ever - a little less lively, certainly, but the same noble character. Miss Carew is in many things much like her sister, and I could give her no higher praise.

We took a long drive after dinner as we did last evening and sent for Lady Estcourt again at 9. She, however, came in the 8 o’clock slow train to prevent me, as she said from being kept up an hour too late, and having gone first to Trombetta’s, the carriage missed her altogether, she coming in five minutes after it had driven away for her. What a melancholly pleasure to see that beloved face once more. She is changed, truly, but less so than I feared. The lines of sorrow are indeed there but so softened by the sweetest expression of patience that she looks more lovely than I ever saw her before.

Mr Marsh and Lady Estcourt spent the morning together looking over letters, journals, etc of General Estcourt. I felt she would be more at ease with one, than two, and so remained in the drawing room and saved them as much as possible from interruptions. The sisters dined with us as we hope they will every day while they are here. An evening drive and a cup of tea closed this first day of our meeting after eight years of separation during which, for one of us at least, the best blessing of life has been taken away.

The journal and letters of our lost friend occupied a long morning again for Mr Marsh and Lady Estcourt while Miss Carew read for me. Miss Arbesser spent the evening with us, and entertained my guests not a little with certain pictures of the Italian court in 1862. Among other things she stated that she had a visit the day before from the Marchesa Arconati and the Countess Litta, both Milanese, the former now a resident of Turin, the latter a visitor in the capital. While these ladies were with her Madame F__ , the daughter of the renowned Pasta was announced. Poor Miss Arbesser was obliged to ask her highborn guests into an adjoining drawing room into which she herself followed them and then told the servant to ask Madam F__ to wait a few moments in the first drawing-room as she was just then engaged. “I do not suppose” said Miss A__ . “that these ladies would have cared a rush if I had received Madam F__ . in the same room with them as they are both sensible persons and Madam F__ . is irreprochable of any fault except that of not being nobly born - nor would the Duchess herself have cared, but there are certain courtiers who would have made one very uncomfortable for such a breach of etiquette. I should have said that our English friends were much pleased to have the opportunity of seeing Poerio yesterday; he came with Pulszky and we had a very nice easy chat. Pulszky gave an interesting account of the new school at Naples and the still newer one about to be established in Calabria. Madame Confalonieri was also with us.

A heavy rain this morning obliged the kink king to postpone the review which we were to see from the Princess Marguerite’s rooms. The weather was better in the evening but still interfered with the illumination which was less brilliant than it would otherwise have been. It seems unfortunate that after having changed the day of the celebration of the statuto from May till June in order to be sure of fine weather, it should turn out so badly.

Another rainy morning and another postponement of the Review. The message brought was. “There will be now review, and the King is very cross.” Even Miss Arbesser writes “S.M. is in the worst of humors” In fact the very heavens seem opened, and the fireworks, the great electric light, etc. are all put out, for tonight at least, and Madame de Lima’s balconies where we were all to have gone will be tenantless.

Today we experienced one of those strange coincidences which so often surprise us in this life. Both Lady and Miss Estcourt had often spoken to us with much feeling of the care which Colonel Gowan had bestowed on the graves of officers who fell at Sebastopol [Sevastopol], and had expressed the strongest wish to see him - They had written to beg him and his family to come to their house in London when they should leave Sebastopol for America. Only this morning they were speaking of him and the generous devotion he had shown, still supposing him at S__. Half an hour afterwards and this same Colonel Gowan was in Mr Marsh’s cabinet. When the latter came out and told us we were too much surprised to understand what he said, and when at last we were convinced Miss Carew said “Why this is just like a bad novel!” The Gowans dined with us and it was a great comfort to the Estcourts to see and talk with them. Mrs Gowan gave us an interesting account of the circumstances which led them to care for these graves and the whole story does great credit to the hearts of this generous pair. The King of Italy sent Mr Gowan the Order of S.M. et. S.L. as a compliment for what he had done to preserve the monuments of the Italians who perished in the Crimea.

Our guests paid a few visits this morning & the Marquesa Arconati spent an hour with me during their absence. She was enthusiastic in her admiration of Egypt, and her winter there will be full of golden memories for the evening of her life. She promises to sift Turin society a little for me & I shall be grateful to her.

Between the necessary preparations for the departure of our guests & for my own journey to Florence & visitors more numerous than at any time since last winter, it has been a day of confusion. The debates in the Chambers are much talked of - but whether the ministry will stand or fall no one dares predict.

We drove to the station a little before 9 leaving the Estcourts behind to take the morning train for Milan. Alexander was fortunate enough to secure a railway carriage quite for us two alone, and Giachino and I managed to sleep a good deal during the night. I must confess that, when I saw distinct traces of coming daylight at 2 1/2 A.M. and remembered at what hour I usually rose, I was not a little shocked and mortified. My conscience was only quieted by the recollection that one half at least of the time when I really pretended to be up had to be given to rest, and that rising earlier would, after all, be no gain for me.

We took our places in the post carriage of the Courier at Bologna about half past five, but found that the carriage, which was only to have had two seats taken for my maid and me and my maid had quattro posti, and we were to have the company of the Courier himself and another person already installed on the back seat. My first survey of this person led me to conclude that she was a lady. The propriety and good taste of her dress were remarkable. She seemed to be a woman of about forty - still handsome. There was something however in her manner towards the ‘Signor corriere’, as she always called him, that puzzled me. He was a good natured but by no means refined person and I could not understand how a lady could condescend to exchange merry banterings with a stranger in his position. I studied the two in silence for a couple of hours, growing more and more at a loss what to make of my companion. The terms of perfect equality on which she placed herself in her conversation with the courier seemed utterly irreconcilable with a certain highbred air which appeared in her dress and in her manner otherwise. An accident broke the silence between us. I saw the postillion performing some odd somersets in the air - the leader on which he was riding had fallen to the ground, the wheelhorses ran over him and so we were going rapidly down hill it was quite a wonder that the carriage and all its occupants were not rolled headlong after. The scarpa however and the poor beast who helped block the wheels saved us, and at last even the fallen horse was got upon his feet again without injury. The excitement consequent on the accident had caused some hurried conversation between me and the lady who seemed delighted to find that I could speak a few words of Italian. In a few minutes I knew half her history Learning that I had passed the winter in Turin, she enquired for the Mattiuccis, the Peruzzis etc. and being told that I actually knew them her enthusiasm was amusing. Conosce Ubaldino ed Emilia! Conosce Matteucci et Robinia! and she clapped her hands with pleasure. She then gave me her name - “Signora Rignola - sono vedova - ah si!” and she dashed the tear from her eye which had gathered there before the smile from her lips had passed away. We talked a good deal after this and she interested me extremely. The sudden transitions from gaity to sadness were really wonderful. She would talk of her delight at the thought of getting home to see her baby grandchild, describe its pretty ways, laugh over its imperfect efforts to speak and the next instant sign and shudder as she said “but I shall not find him who would have been better than all.” She told me that her husband had been dead seven years. I am glad I now know the Italian character well enough to understand this woman - glad I have learned that to feel differently from us does not necessarily imply, feeling less. I was truly sorry to part from this interesting woman who had furnished me amusement all the way. The country was far more beautiful that we found it last autumn after the severe summer draughts [droughts]. The whole surface of the ground seemed literally covered with flowers, and half our way lay between hedges of wild rose loaded with blossoms whose very faint odour made the air delicious There was not a particle of dust and we reached Florence soon after four without excessive fatigue.

I sent for Carrie this morning and we passed the day in an exchange of the experiences of the last six weeks. The Powers’s came in towards evening and we talked politics and settled that the bust should be begun in the morning.

I sat with Powers two hours this morning watching, I believe his manipulations of the clay with more interest that he studied the lines of my face. What a marvellous art! In the evening I returned to the Powerses to meet the Moravian sisters with whom Carrie is at school, and who were to take tea there. I talked only with Soeur Clara who is very pleasing and well educated. I was interested to learn that she had been some years in Smyrna and had taught the little Hamlins. We were all out of spirits from the news of Banks’s defeat

Mr Powers makes the sittings very pleasant by his original and agreeable conversation, and as he only wants me two hours a day I am likely to get a good deal of rest. The Browns, who came in yesterday, are, as far as I know, my only acquaintances here - at any rate I shall take it for granted that all the rest are in the country.

Mr Brown came into the studio with better news from America which made even the poor brown clay which Mr Powers was fingering smile radiantly. I think the work will turn out the better for it. I took Florence Powers and Carrie to the Cascine this evening and then through the principle streets. Every fresh sight of this wonderful city fills me with increasing admiration.

As Mr Powers proceeds I finding myself growing nervously anxious. If Mr Marsh can only be pleased, every wish I have on the subject will be gratified, but hitherto he has been so hard to please that I am afraid even this will seem to him a failure. At any rate I am sure the fault will be in him and not in the artist.

Mr Powers told me frankly this morning that he found it much more difficult to satisfy himself in this [illegible] bust than he had anticipated - that he should be obliged to ask me for more time etc, etc. The principle difficulty he says, is in the variety of expression about the mouth, which changes every moment. When he has taken one he sees another which, for some reason, he prefers - it is gone before he can catch it and there is another and another, till he feels puzzled and is obliged to rest, by working on some other part of the face - then he begins the mouth afresh, and so he has done it over many times, and still is not satisfied. I feel what the difficulty is; my mouth has a compressed and not pleasing expression, when entirely at rest. This he wishes to avoid, and finds it difficult to choose or to seize the expression he would like when the muscles it are in play.

As Mr Powers wished to work for one day quite from memory I was very glad to lounge all day on my sofa at the Grande Bretagne I was delighted to see the Greys of New York, who greatly comforted me on the subject of our own national difficulties.

I was waked about half past two, this morning by a harp and violin. I never heard such music before. There were occasionally a voice few notes by a very sweet woman’s - voice, but the instruments themselves seemed to me to be endowed with some magical power. There was a very large company of noisy Bacchanals about the performers but while they played, no one moved or spoke. I did not know that I was capable of feeling music in this way, but it was delightful, even to pain. Carrie has spent most of the day with me and fortuantely for me, brought up my poor broken journal to the actual day.

During the two hours sitting this morning we discussed the natural & the spiritual, the seen & the unseen until both artist & subject had well nigh forgotten the work on hand. I certainly never have seen a more remarkable union of childlike simplicity & intellectual power than one meets in Mr Powers. Had circumstances in life favored his development in the same preparation as nature endowed him above most men he would have had few rivals & no masters in his day. He gave me a most curious account of the recent discovery of the skeleton of a man lately found in some part of Germany, which he learned from Sir Charles Lyell yesterday. The skeleton is above the usual human size & though indisputably human still approaches very much nearer the monkey type than does any other species of the genus homo. The head is set on the shoulders in the most animal-like way. If there is no mistake as to the facts in the case the discovery will be a confirmation strong as Holy Writ to the Vestige theorist.

I felt so weak & ill this morning that it required all my resolution backed up by a glass of Port wine to brace me up to the effort of going to Mr Powers this morning at twelve. As I gave a glance at my mirror on leaving my room and noticed the dark sunken shadows under the eyes, [tear in page] the pale hollow cheeks, not to speak of certain lines traced by the enemy’s hand - all of which a night of wakefulness and pain had brought into fullest evidence - my vanity whispered, “This should have been done a quarter of a century earlier!” I was scarcely in my chair however before every thing else was forgotten in the discussion of that future which alone gives importance to this present. Mr Powers certainly makes no pretension to a metaphysical training, but his remarks of on the Spiritual are not the less fresh and original on that account.

Just off after I left the studio this morning Mr Brown brought news from America to the 7th inst all very good.

Another hour or two with Powers to-day, and then I was told the rest could be done without me. In fact he says I should only hinder him by a longer stay, as I tempt him to perpetual changes whenever we are talking together. I drove home - hotels are as much homes to us now as any place - told G. to pack up our sieben sachen and prepare for leaving this city of enchantment in the morning, took dinner, and then left a few cards, said good bye to the sisters C.s school, spent a few minutes with Mrs P. & children and went back to the hotel just in time not to miss good honest Mr Hart. He had only heard of my being in Florence that afternoon, and I confess my conscience smote me when he reminded me how often he had begged “for the honour of doing your bust.” I had utterly forgotten that he had done so, but remembered it when he attended to it. I had certainly rather go down to my little great-grand nephews & neices through Mr P. though I doubt not Mr Hart would have made an excellent portrait, and I am pained to have disappointed him though there was certain surely no promise on my part.

Carrie & I hurried off this morning to take one turn through S. Croce to bow once more before some of Italy’s mightiest dead, and had time beside to drive twice steady slowly round the Duomo, Campanile and Baptistry - a trio that can take no adjective without loss. Our way to Pietra Santa was through Pistoia & Lucca - a far more beautiful country than one passes by the more direct route. One is almost oppressed by the luxuriance of some districts. The earth seems yielding triple quadruple harvests at once. The wheat sheaves were leaning against the Indian corn above which rose the vines, and above these again the fig-tree & the olive - all so blended in a whirl by the flying train that each & all appeared to grow from the same roots. Thousands of peasants - men, women & children were at work in the fields, the bright colors they wore making them look as gay as the corn-flowers which were flaming beside them.

We left Pietra-Santa at half past eight P.M. with the courier for Genoa. It was still early twilight when we drove out of the little town - much larger though then when I first knew it twelve years ago - and as we passed into the shadow of the olives a strange feeling of sadness, half memory, half imagination, came over me. Twelve years ago I had passed through these wide wide olive fields almost at this very same hour. Mr Marsh was then with me, our George and several other lively friends. Now I was here again and my companions of that day were hundreds, most of them thousands, of mile from me. I could not help thinking what effect it would have had upon me then, had I been told prophetically that twelve years later I should be travelling through those same grey olive groves unattended by even a single one of that happy company. I should have supposed certainly that Time alone could not have effected such a change in my surroundings and that Death, too, must have been busy. But my heart rose in gratitude to Him who had spared all these friends, though none of them were now at any side, and I said “How well it is that we cannot get a glimpse, perfect or imperfect, into the mysterious Future. A little circumstance which occurred just as we were leaving Pietra Santa had contributed to make me feel a little sad. As I was going to step into the post carriage a gentleman of most prepossessing appearance spoke to me in a very respectful way, said it was most important for him to reach Genoa as soon as possible, that he knew I had taken the three seats etc., but he had thought it possible that I might be willing to take my maid into the body of the carriage with one and give him the outside seat with the courier. My maid however was not disposed to trust me with the answer. With a rudeness I have never before know her guilty of

While we were waiting for the courier at Pietra Santa, Carrie went out with Giachino for a little run, They saw some women washing superintended by one who semed to be in more easy circumstances. She asked the two if they were forestiere, and on being answered in the affirmative, she expressed much satisfaction. She then commenced an amusing autobiography, told them that she was a married woman, that, six years ago, her husband got up in the night and said to her, “Aspettami,” - that he set off immediately for England to make his fortune, that she had heard he was in Birmingham, that he never wrote to her, that she didnot know what to do, whether it was best to wait longer for him or to take another husband, etc, etc. Carrie describes the whole account as being in the highest degree amusing though there was evidently more of the serious than the comic in the mind of the narrator. If she didn’t lay the loss of the husband much to heart, she was at least suffering from embarrassment as to how she should decide her future course.

she took it upon herself to decide the question. She told the gentleman that it was not possible for three persons to sit for so many hours on the single seat in side the carriage intended only for two etc, etc. I had had no time to think, and after taking my seat, waited a moment for my irritation with Giachino to subside, and then beckoned the gentleman to come and speak with me, the maid in the mean time having sprung up to her place with the courier. I explained to the stranger the very delicate state of my own health and assured him that it was not the fear of a mere temporary inconvenience, but the almost certainty that I could not possibly bear the journey in a position so erect and so confined as would be necessary if three persons were to attempt to sit together in so small a space. He was evidently much disappointed, but did not in the least press the [illegible] subject. “Sarebbe stata una fortuna per me; but,” continued he “I see perfectly that it would not do, and I am only sorry to have given you the trouble of thinking about it.” There was something so well-bred, so manly, and at the same time so gentle in the address of this man that I was doubly grieved at not being able to oblige him. I would have risked trying to take the maid with us if we could have had a spare ten minutes in which to shed our crinolines, but there was not a moment - the courier dashed off - the poor stranger was left behind with his disappointment, and I was whirled away with a pang at my heart for having been, or having seemed to be, disobliging. The long weary eighteen hours drive which followed without leaving the carriage for a moment showed me that I could not have borne it under less favorable circumstances, but did not reconcile me to the inconvenience that my fellow traveller might have suffered from being detained at Pietra Santa. We lost much of the country during the night hours, and the ocean sea at Spezia was rather smelled than seen by us, ( [illegible] moon reflected in the water) as we arrived there about one o’clock. After daylight we were soon once more upon the shore and we enjoyed the remainder of the journey to Genoa as much as mortals as tired can enjoy anything. Every body knows this road and I would only say of it “let him who has seen it in winter , go over it in summer, he who has first been there in summer should not fail to see it in winter! We had time to dine in Genoa and take the five o’clock train for Turin, where we arrived safely a little before ten and found Mr Marsh and household well and apparently not sorry to welcome us.

With the exception of the hour Mr M. spent in church it required the whole day to post each other up as to our mutual experiences during the last fifteen days & we were both glad of a long night’s rest. I had a couple of hours advantage of Mr M - who went to the Pulszsky’s [Pulszky’s] and returned at eleven. He found some intelligent people there - among them the Duchess Bevilaqua de la Masa whom I have been wishing to have him meet all winter. Several members of parliament - sensible men - were there. We were not a little amused this morning by a religious procession in honor of St John Baptist. Were Hundreds of girls in white, crowned with flowers & chanting as they walked on, were followed by a most comic little urchin of five or six years old, with a bit of sheep-skin still covered with wool around his wait, and his breast, arms & legs bare. He carried an Agnus Dei, and the poor little creature looked from side to side in such a timid, almost frightened way, that one almost forgot to laugh at what would otherwise have been so ludicrous. A little Mary Magdelen of nine or ten followed him, dressed in a short black petticoat & carrying a crucific on a black velvet cushion. Her hair hung long & loose about her shoulders & she seemed very penitent certainly!

We worked hard at letters, notes etc all day and went out in the carriage for a little change in the evening. - The rumor that Rattazzi has made an offer of troops to the F. E. to aid him in his Mexican projects makes some stir.

Mr & Mrs Valerio of N. Y. came this morning to say that they were to leave Turin this eve - to be absent a month. I am sorry, for I wished to have them dine with us before they left. Mr V. is much like his brother the Pref. of Como, & Madame is a fine specimen of an American woman who dares think her own thoughts & do her own deeds, without too much fear of the world, & yet not, I should think, disposed to outrage the opinions or even prejudices of others without need. We missed the Gerbino to-lastnight through a misunderstanding of arrangements with Mr Artoni, but to-night we carried out our Wednesday June 25th # project. Shakespeare was the title of the play - comedy [illegible] indeed, though not intended for such. The Mees was irristible irrisistible. Such an Elizabeth would have astonished the Europe of her day I fancy, & the Me Lordos were not less extraordinary. But Vilelm was the most remarkable of the dramatis persona. Any attempt to descride him would be idle & I record this only as a means of calling up a laughter-moving spectacle to my mind.

The Marchesa Arconati spent an hour with me this morning. I cannot fancy a more charming old lady. She is full of interest in every thing interesting - dignified without stiffness, enthusiastic without affection, calm without coldness. She gave me a hearty invitation to her villa on Como. The Browns came later. Mr Marsh dined at the Turkish Ministers where the guests had been asked to come in uniform - an unnecessary and unusual formality which made the forty gentlemen present all utter small imprecations upon their pretentious host. Poor Rustem lost the more good-will than his fine wines & choice dishes brought him in. As most of the diners wished to go to the Convegno dei Deputati, after leaving the table they were obliged to hurry home, take off their toggery, put on a black suit and hasten to the Convegno which had already been forsaken by most of the Senators & Members. C. & I enjoyed a drive in the twilight which was lighted up by gorgeous sun-set clouds. - Mr Marsh says Valerio’s scheme for a line of steamers from Genoa to N. York will not meet with any favor just yet. The great Irrigation [illegible] project is now occupying much attention. The value of the land to be irrigated is expected to be increased by at least 20 dollars per acre. The waters of the Po are to be taken out at Chivasso and returned at __

Young Mr Jones of Florence spent a very long morning with us - intelligent but dreamy. The Monnets also made us one of their welcome visits. Mrs Tottenham gave a lively picture of some of their experiences in the way of applicants for charity. She knows a good deal of Father Ambrogio whom we saw at Biella - says he is a good man & an able one but impracticable & imprudent to the last degree. She thinks however that he may do be useful in waking up the people to examine into religious matters and believes that the Methodists are employing him and that they keep him from want.

The Pulszkys told us this morning something of the gossip of the day about our political affairs which serves to show how little Europe understands us. Many who think themselves statesmen believe that as soon as the F. Emperor thinks the South sufficiently desperate to accept any terms he will propose to acknowledge their independence on condition that they establish a monarchy and put an English prince on the throne. In this way he expects to get the Rhine Provinces. By putting the archduke Max__ on the throne of Mexico he will get Venetia. And European politicians suppose the United States would brook such an arrangement as this! Certainly we do not want Mexico - nor do we want a Hapsburg there - but least of all do would we suffer an Englishman to wear a crown on our side of the Atlantic - in our own territory forsooth! Why we should fight as long as there was a drop of blood left to flow, if that were necessary. But Our women alone would not fear to undertake to drive the intruders into the Gulf of Mexico - and they would do it too. Mad. Pulszky is as busy as ever about her schools and other benevolent projects - in fact I cannot understand how she manages with all her family-duties to accomplish so much for general objects. The little creature seems made iron - never tires, - mind nor body. It gives one new life to see her. Mr Marsh went to congratulate grand old Plana this morning on some important, mathematical calculation which he has just successfully completed, the old astronomer is mad, not from want of devotion but from the excess of his joy & triumph. I am scarcely less delighted than he is, though I have not yet heard what it is that he has done & probably should not understand it if I were to be told. While he - Mr Marsh - was out, he benevolently dropped in a moment to see the poor old Countess Marini whom every body slights. She tries my patience with her everlasting haute société, but I pity her old age destitute of any rational tasks and full of pain & weakness

We left Turin this morning about ten A.M. taking a carriage & horses from Borgo who condescendingly came in person to see to our outfit. The day was delicious in temerature but the Alps were not clear. We went out through the Piazza Milano and the road lay through the plain to the N. W. for the first three hours. After we had reposed at Rivarolo, 2 hours nominally but really three, we went on to Pont. The latter part of the day’s journey was much more interesting than the first, though even after we began to ascend the slopes leading up to the Val d’Orco, the land was not rich and nor well cultivated. The noble tower at Valperga however is alone worth a day’s pilgrimage. I know nothing of it except what ‘he who runs may read’. It is of brick, very lofty, but not very old, and designed by a man whose name should be immortal though I am ignorant of it. I have never before seen any thing of the kind in brick so imposing. We passed several large villas & castles belonging distinguised Piedmontese families, but none remarkable for great beauty of position or for their grounds or for their architecture. The quaint old tower of CuorgnĂ© was worth seeing, and our clever coachman tried to make us spend the night there on the assurance that we should not be able to find comfortable lodgings there. But we, who believed in Murray, persisted in going on to Pont where the oracle of travellers had told us we should find the ‘Valentino tolerable.’ The town is very picturesque in its location & surroundings and we were rejoicing in our firmness when Alex. came out of the little inn with any thing but an encouraging face. He begged the gentleman would just step in & look at the rooms before the ladies left the carriage! Mr M. soon returned with a reassuring smile, “Jump, out,” said he, “I have seen you stand worse things than this”. We passed through all that one must pass through before getting to the chambers of an Italian house of the poorer class, and were at last in the rooms where we were to sleep. Yes I had certainly been in worse, but it was truer still that I had been in better. On the whole the prospect was not [illegible] brilliant. Still there was good will. The mistress did her best to give us a dinner, fresh sheets & towels came at a call, and some sort of substitute for every necessity was found except something in which to make the tea we had brought with us. Our good hostess had never even heard of tea & the curious wonder with which she examined the herb amused us not a little. Alex at last found, in some shop, a black earthen pitcher which did marvellously well for the making, but to get the precious liquid out afterwards was a pob problem. Every time one of the Lilliputian coffee-cups was filled as large a quantity was shed on the table-cloth. Tea over we shut our eyes as much as possible to our surroundings & went to bed tired enough to sleep we hoped. Alas for human calculation. We were in our first doze when Alexander’s excited voice in the passage told that something had gone amiss. He talking to the padrone. “Is it a Christian or a beast that you have put in the room next to me!” said the indignant courier. The poor padrone answered deprecatingly, “Do have patience Signore! it is a priest.” “Dio mio! I knew it was no Christian! but, tell me, is he mad!” “No Signore, he is only drunk!” I heard no more of the colloquy, but knowing A’s respect for priests to be small I had little doubt his reverence would get the benefit of a cold bath unless the more prudent Giachino interfered. Now came our turn. Our bed was by no means of a kind to serve as a lullaby to persons once waked, the street was full of strange noises, the dogs howled like wild beasts - we could not have the satisfaction of hitting them with the fragments of a plate broken by the child-housemaid who had helped serve us a dinner, though Mr M. showed abundant zeal to do so, and on the whole day-light was a joyful sight to us all. The servants had fared the worst certainly. The brute of a priest, who was in the room next them, what with his crazy declamation, his thumping on the wall & his swinish snoring, never gave them a moment’s quiet. We gladly set off for Ivrea, and did not feel quite disposed to subscribe to Murray’s account of Pont - particularly after a walk up the Val d’Orca & the Val Soanna had satisfied Mr Marsh that the snow-peaks described in this Modern Englishman’s Bible were myths - and observation confirmed by the ‘oldest inhabitant’ of Pont who had never seen any snow-peaks except in mid-winter. The drive to Ivrea -

was pretty, skirting the fertile mountain slopes. Ivrea was not new to us, but it looked even more romantic than I remembered it. We dined there, & set off at 1/2 past 3 for Azeglio, missed the way and came up out at Cavalglia! Rather lucky for us I fancy, as it seemed very doubtful whether we should find any place to sleep at Azeglio, [Tear in page] The scenery was less striking about Lago Viverone than we had expected.

We had a comfortable night at Caval Cavaglià - bating the one unavoidable source of torment to all travellers in S. Europe - and came on to Biella this morning by the direct route not beng able to cross the La Serra as we had intended on account of the late rains. I should have mentioned a sad sight we saw yesterday between Ivrea & Cavaglià. Our attention was attracted by what seemed to be fields of a grain new to us - a wretched ragged-looking plant resembling ‘reeds broken by the wind’. We observed it for miles, at last, being able to make nothing of it ourselves, we asked our coachman what it was, “Gran turco.” was his answer, “Indian corn, torn to tatters by the hail an hour before!” It was so indeed. During our dinner at Ivrea there had been a thunder-shower with a few dashes of hail - we had thought nothing of it - but here, in the plain below, it had utterly destroyed thousands of acres of beautiful Indian corn just in flower. I had no idea that hail could have produced such effects. The leaves were literally torn to fine strings and hung trailing on the ground or twisted about the bare upright stalk. The pumpkin-vines were crushed to a pulp. This lovely country is not paradise after all. Our welcome at Biella was gratifying.

After dining at Biella we took a renfort last night and climbed up to the semi-monastery of Graglia. Though not quite clear the weather was fine, and the prospect finer, but the newly installed rector detained us so long in the Sala to take coffee with him that we missed the sunset and its glories. It was a compensation however to find this respectable man both liberal and enlightened. He lamented that so little was now done for his Sanctuary, “but,” he added, “Christian charity has in these days taken another, and far be it from me to say, a less judicious, direction. If it has ceased to endow religious houses, it at least does the work which once those religious houses professed to do - it provides the poorer classes with proper means of instruction, it cares for the widow and the orphan & the outcast, and so long as it does these these [sic] things there is no need of our old religious houses. Times must change, whether we would have them or not, & I see no reason to think they are not changing for the better.” Wednesday July 2nd Our apartments were very comfo convenient when at last we got into them. We had most comfortables beds last night, and this morning proved one of the finest of the season, though not free from hazy mist. Mr Marsh and Carrie climbed to the Santuario, which is some 800 feet above the church and monastery, but did not gain much in view on account of the fog. After breakfast we lounged among the shades of these charming grounds for hours, enjoying immensely what was around us, above us and below us. Go to Graglia all ye travellers who really love nature and really wish to know something of Piemonte. We were sorry to be obliged to come down before sunset.

We set off this morning at six for [illegible] PiĂ© di Cavallo, having passed the night at Biella. We took the ‘Signora’s saddle’ hoping to find some mule-path by means of which we could get from Piede PiĂš di Cavallo over in to the Val de Lys. The rest of the party being ambitious of a mountain expedition on foot over a route not in the Guide Book. We were greeted by the good-natured inhabitants of this same PiĂšde PiĂš di Cavallo, with: “Sono venuti al fine del mondo.” In answer to our enquiries about the mule-path they assured us that bestie could not possibly go over, but that the Signora could very easily be carried over the pass, six hours, in a basket by a woman! They showed us the basket, of a very small at the bottom and widening rapidly upwards, about three feet high. This basket the women carry on their shoulders, sometimes filled with heavy bricks - sometimes serving as a rest for the enormous load of hay which these poor creatures carry. The Signora, d not having been born south of Mason-and-Dixon’s line, did not like the idea of putting one of her Sisters to such use, and the whole party returned to Biella as they came up. The people at this ‘end of the world’ were very kind, looked out a nice shady place for us to lunch in and gave us all the information they could. Mr Marsh and Carrie took a long walk in the direction of the Val Sesia. They held a discourse with a woman who told them that even a bestia might be got over this pass, but as the Val Sesia would have been quite out of our way we made no further direction experiments there. The scenery up this Val d’Andorno is wild but not particularly attractive any way, after one leaves the village of Andorno. But there are very remarkable quarries of granite it in which many men are employed, manufactories of various kinds are in operation and a large woolen factory was rapidly going in a little below Rosazza. The inhabitants generally looked extremely comfortable, no begging, almost no goĂźtre and every body with plenty to do. The birds were most musical the whole length of the valley and the cuckoos answered each other from the opposite sides in a most plaintive way. I have never in my life heard the song of the cuckoo so much as in this province of Biella.

Once more we were on our way at 6 A.M. and this time to Ivrea over La Serra, a most singular-looking ridge lying between Biella and Ivrea which has greatly excited Mr Marsh’s curiosity to know how it came there. The ascent commences soon after leaving Mongrando and in about a quarter of an hour we found ourselves in the strangest looking region one can fancy. Nothing but stones - stones in heaps - stones in ridges - stones in rivers. The whole surface as far as we could see was stones - not very large - in fact the absence of larger blocks made Mr Marsh doubt at first whether this could be an old moraine - and yet what else could it be? At last we came to larger masses and there could be no doubt it was a moraine in some remote geological period. After crossing this wild tract, we climbed still higher up the ridge, which on the slope now towards us was well cultivated, and, on reaching what we had supposed to be the highest point, we found a still higher line separated from us by a ravine at the bottom of which ran a small stream. Down the ravine, across the bridge and again on the top of this new ridge and lo! another ravine, and another little torrent and another ridge, and so, on and on until we reached the last slope which brought us near Ivrea. After leaving the moraine Mr Marsh says the remainder of the ridge is entirely the work of water. I confess I cant understand how water should have filled piled up such a semi mountain chain, but I am silent and try to believe. There is little cultivation on the upper portion of this broad water-washed ridge, only pasturage and that not very good. The shepherd-groups - old men, boys and girls with their dove-coloured cows and oxen - their flocks of black and white sheep with the inevitable dog were very striking. The girls were most of them spinning - a bright red kerchief on every head, and the flax bound to the distaff by a band of the same colour. The boys were noisy and full of play as a matter of course, they being boys, but one old gran’ther particularly drew our notice. He was leaning with both hands on his crook, his hair white as snow, and his principle garment - whatever it might be called - cast about him as if he were standing there expressly for the benefit of some artist. At Ivrea Mr Marsh turned back to Turin where diplomatic business, proofs, and Mr Powers called him, and we of the spindle set off wh with servants for the Rosa Rossa at Ponte San Martino. The Rosa Rossa did not look so inviting as some roses I have seen, but improved on acquaintance, and we passed a very quiet night - our heads full of the ruined old castles and all the fine scenery that lies between Ivrea and this old Roman bridge which we should see from our window, but for an envious wall between us.

Our carriage, for which we are not likely to have further use among the mountains, was sent Turinward and this morning - Alexander with it as far as Ivrea where he takes the rail to join Mr Marsh and return with him tomorrow. I have not enquired, but trust that our new AttachĂ© [illegible], a small yellow and white dog, kept the carriage company. This little brute, the property of the padrone at Biella accompanied us on several of our excursions from that place, and finding chicken bones etc. - were plenty among the Diplomatic persuasion, he decided at once to join that body, ignored his former master, and followed us on to this place in spite of remonstrance; I, who don’t much care for dogs, finding that the human species use up the little affection I have to spare, frowned on the creature, tried to make him understand he would find it hard work and poor pay, this self constituted attachĂ©-ship. But he would not heed, looked at me, tucked his tail under his legs and took refuge with the servants. Poor dumb thing! It makes one uncomfortable to reject the appealing good will even of such as he. Towards evening Giachino and Carrie climbed to the top of the ruined old castle just above the town. Carrie was delighted with her excursion, made wonderful discoveries of great dining-halls, old donjon-keeps, and even saw skulls down in the deep vaults into which she is sure the poor wretches were sent through oubliettes which she could not find. She was only sorry that she could not stay till midnight when she would have stood some chance of getting the real history of the old ruin from some communicative ghost who would, without doubt, be abroad at that hour. However, as she was not only a woman, but even a young girl, she was obliged to return demurely at set of sun, and finish her fancies in the Rosa Rossa.

Mr Marsh came to us at 1. P.M. after having given Mr Powers a Fourth dinner, corrected two proofs & finished off all the Diplomatic work accumulated during his five days absence. Although he had not slept two hours for the as many nights, he preferred going on as far as St Vincent. We set out for this famous watering place at 3. P.M. & arrived at 1/2 past 6, having been compensated for an incredible amount of dust, by views of great interest, most picturesqe old castles etc etc.

Augusta Praetoria of the Romans. We came on here very early this morning to get breakfast and spend a quiet sunday. The valley is pretty, even grand in some places, between St Vincent and Aosta & Carrie saw romantic-looking old castles to her heart’s content, but all the attractions of nature & antiquity, Mediaeval & Roman cannot make amends for the human monstrosities one meets here. For goĂźtre & crĂ©tinism I was prepared, but not for such frightful distortion of form & feature, not for what seems more like furious madness than harmless folly. Among the hundreds we passed in the streets on entering this unhappy town scarely [scarcely] one was of even respectable physique. I will not try to call to mind the pitiable objects we saw, flat, unformed faces of enormous dimensions with nothing human in them unless that feeble, idiotic smile must be admitted to be such. But some of these crĂ©tins showed sign of frantic violence - two of them shook their fists at us as we passed, and seemed to be prevented from attacking us only by their more sane, though scarcely better-looking neighbours. The goĂźtre with its shocking deformities was almost unrepulsive compared with much else we witnessed. I reached the hotel with a feeling of relief & have not trusted myself with a look from the window except at the Becca di Nona, the first object of our pilgrimage up this valley. The famous story of the Lepers of the Tower of Aosta strikes me in a new light - I no longer pity them for being cut off from all communication with the Aostans - if forced to choose I think I should have cast my lot with the former. The noted & lively Chanoine Carel came in to see & counsel us soon after our af arrival. He did not think the weather promising and gave me little hope of getting to the top of the Becca on a mule, and insisted that I must walk for half an hour. Having with much difficulty made him understand that I could not possibly do it, I saw that his respect for me had vanished with the dawning of this conviction, and it was only by boasting of my laurels at Vesuvius, Horeb, the Gemmi, Cal St Theodule etc that I in some degree recovered my character in his eyes. It was settled to give up the Becca till our return from Courmayeur on account of the weather, and the intelligent and witty Chanoine, who I fancy, is at least as good at a climb as at his Paternosters, is to go with us. He wanted to know what Murray said of the Becca in his last

Remark of Chanoine Carrel that coffee was found to be beneficial in cases of incipient goĂźtre. In fact that a more nutritious diet was the first thing to be thought of for diminishing this terrible disease.

edition. I showed him the paragraph which he read with evident satisfaction, but when his eye fell lower on the page, on what is said of crĂ©tinism in the Val d’Aosta, he exclaimed, “Per Bacco! Il faut que ces malheureux Anglais parlent ’toujours de nos cretins! Cependent nous ne sommes pas tous crĂ©tins, non plus!” He said this very good-naturedly, but it was plainly a sore subject with him. - The wind blew with such violence that we did not go out even to see the Roman remains here, hoping for a more favorable day for it when we come back. Our dessert was remarkable for consisting in part of apples grown last year - kept they told us in straw.

A heavy shower, with thunder which seemed toppling down the mountain peaks above us, cleared the weather completely during the night. We sighed as we looked at the Becca freshly bonnetted in white - the work of the night’s storm, - as it stood up so clearly defined against the deep blue sky, with Mont Emilius still taller and broader and whiter standing near it. But it was too late to get mules and guides for so long a days excursion, and our carriage was waiting at the door to take us to Courmayeur. A parting look at the tempting Nona and her companion dissipated my chagrin at the our misjudgement of the weather; by recalling to my mind oddly enough a phrase of Carlyle in his Frederic, where he calls somebody ‘fugitive ex-monk, with fugitive ex-nun attached.’ There was certainly nothing very apropos in the reminiscence, but it made one laugh, and forget regrets. The drive to Courmayeur was far more interesting than we expected. The scenery wilder and grander. The castles numerous and picturesque. When about two hours from Aosta there suddenly appeared above the nearer mountains on the left a magnificent snow-peak. We all in a breath cried The Grivola! The Grivola! for though Murray had not told us to expect it, from drawings we had seen of it we knew we could not be mistaken. Our coachman confirmed us, and for the rest of the way we frequently enjoyed very imposing views of this wonderful mountain. The mighty Mont Blanc was enjoyably visible only for the last two hours. We did not see the awful summits, the needles, the giants both, the tremendous glaciers appear one after the other without strong emotion. Twelve years had not lessened their solemn interest. We reached the village of Courmayeur at 12 1/2 ; deposited ourselves in the Angelo, and such of our party as could stroll did so till we could get breakfast which was not till 2. It was too late for any regular excursion today, but Mr Marsh and Carrie took another long ramble, and made acquaintance with such of the peasants as came in their way. One poor girl who was sitting down to rest on a rock by the way, told them that last year she fell from a precipice and injured her hip so severely that after being, for four months in a hospital, she was dismissed, but crippled for life. She had been reaping grain all day and told Mr Marsh, that she was paid eight cents a day only, but that she had her food besides. We gave her the wages of one day, and she was quite overcome in trying to express her gratitude. As they walked on they met another young girl, followed by a child, who was weeping violently. The travellers stopped and asked the little one why the other was crying. “Oh she has just lost her mother.” was the childs answer and just then I was sitting in my window at the hotel listening to the passing bell which was sounding slowly & mournfully from the tower of the village church.

A feverish night with severe pain in the head and limbs - warnings which I have been fighting against for the last three days - put it decidedly out of my power to go to Mont de la Saxe this morning, as was the plan. I however, after trying persuasion in vain, succeeded in inducing Mr Marsh to go without me by a hint that I had rather make the effort, ill as I was, than break up the excursion for the rest. On this he went without me, and Giachino staid as nurse. The day proved cold and windy, there were many clouds around the higher mountain peaks, and altogether the excursion did not prove a very satisfactory one.

A hot bath, a small dose of laudanum and a quantity of weak black tea by way of tisane, relieved me very much last night, but being satisfied that I should not be able to do mountain-work for a week to come I persuaded Mr Marsh to take advantage of a very fine day for the ascent of the Chécruit. They had the best weather possible, climbed a ridge a good deal higher than the Chécruit, and returned home by the lake Combal, passing along the Brenva glacier. The view of the mountains they describe as very fine but Mr Marsh says the Brenva glacier though striking, and, to one who sees one of these ice rivers for the first time, no doubt amazing, yet it bears no comparison with the Gorner glacier. In the course of their climb this morning they saw a little patch of pasture, an Alp as they call it here, quite inaccessible even for goats, but which the shepherds manage to reach themselves and from which they let down cords, draw up their sheep and there leave them for three months, when, the grass being consumed, they let them down again. One of the guides told them a rather singular incident: They were passing along the lake Combal with an Italian officer of high rank who had seen much service. A cat, originally domestic but now become wild, suddenly sprang out from the rocks and fastened her claws into the legs of the mule on which the officer was riding. The mule kicked, reared, plunged, jumped, and ended by hurling the General into the lake. He was taken out by the guides without serious injury - but what a strange fate it would have been for the old veteran, who had come off safely from so many battle fields to have been drowned at last by a cat!

Mr Marsh went early to the Dolina Spring - did not like the waters which he thought contained iron and magnesia - and then took a long stroll with Mr Bull - not John this time, but Johnny. Another long walk in the afternoon used up the day which had been too cloudy for a regular excursion. I felt so much better this evening that I thought it wise to go down to Aosta in the morning, and if I must really be ill, to be so there within reach of more of the necessaries in such cases. In that case the Cramonti must be given up - or rather put off till we come back from Switzerland by the Allée Blanche which we hope to do in September.

We left Courmayeur a little before noon for Aosta - I feeling so well as half to regret not having tried to ascend to Cramont instead. The wind was high, however, and it would not have been so easy or pleasant on that account. We rolled down from Courmayeur to Aosta in about four hours time - in a shackly old machine which passed for a carriage. One of the axles was bent which gave the thing a constant direction to the right, and which obliged the poor horses to run always to the left. The result was a most ludicrous kind of motion, which became even perilous when we dashed down the very steep hills at a Jehu pace relying on nothing human but a very feeble mecanique which did not generally get into operation till we were nearly at the bottom of the hill. No harm came to us and at five we were dining comfortably in our own apartments in La Couronne - a luxury we had not enjoyed before since we left this same town. On this occasion we discussed what was to be done next. I had intended to remain here a few days to recruit, if possible, leaving Mr Marsh to go back to Turin to do the work that might be waiting for him there, but feeling so well today and not tired by the drive I proposed to try the ascent of the Nona as far as the Signal tomorrow, if the day should prove fine. M decided to wait till three in the morning when the weather and my courage should say what was to be done.

After an almost sleepless night - Mr Marsh, I suppose, being anxious about the effect of so much exertion on me, and I being hopeful that the clouds might decide against the risk, we found at three this morning the sky brilliant and every promise of a glorious day. I tried to summon up the courage of the day before and said we would go. There was some delay in getting mules which we could not order positively the night before, but at five o’clock we were mounted in the courtyard, three masters and two servants, on as many mules and each provided with a guide. The return of sunlight and half a cup of strong black tea had made me quite myself again and the first few paces of my mule - easy and firm - satisfied me that I should carry out the programme successfully. We went on, single file, through the streets of Aosta swarming with dwarfs and crĂ©tins, and out past the western wall - old Roman, they say, and then turned south and south east toward the Nona. I had no idea of the beauty of the situation of Aosta until I stood on the centre of the bridge which here crosses the Doire. It is most lovely. The paroisse de Charvensod with its little village is romantically placed at the foot of the ascent under the shade of the most luxuriant walnuts. How is it possible for the people to look so wretched where all nature is smiling so brightly? But they do not beg. It seems rather disease than want. From this village we climbed rapidly and long. By some misunderstanding my guide separated me from the rest of the party by taking, from the Chapel of St Grat Pantaleone a more direct but steeper path to the top of the ridge which overlooks the chĂąlets of ComboĂ«. We were out of sight & hearing of the rest before I discovered that we were taking another route and it was too late to return with the hope of overtaking them. I consoled myself with the belief that Mr Marsh would be told how the thing was by his muleteer and that his being heavier for the mule would be given as the reason why they took the longer way. The saving of three quarters of an hour was certainly a pleasant prospect for me and I stood on the Col de la FenĂȘtre having experienced very little fatigue. The view, after leaving the Chapel grew finer and finer at every zig-zag. One peak of everlasting snow and ice came up after another until I was quite dazzled and overwhelmed. I had supposed myself to be climbing up the side of the Nona when lo! having reached the Col de la FenĂȘtre I saw a deep wide green valley more than a thousand feet below me and the Becca rising far far above me beyond this valley. It was but a fold of her wide floating garment which I had been scrambling over so long and so slowly. The descent to the chĂąlet of the Chanoine Carrel was very steep and rugged. My guide seemed startled when I told him I could not possibly walk down. After some hesitation he said he was not afraid that his mule would fall but he was afraid that Madama could not keep her seat in the saddle - that her head might turn - the girths give way, or something of the sort, and then - he pointed to the perpendicular plunge below - a leap which I had certainly no disposition to make. What was to be done! Walk I could not. I told the man if he would answer for his mule, I would answer for Madama, and the care of the saddle we must trust to Providence alone. The good fellow took his mule boldly by the bridle and we came down without even a stumbling step on the part of his faithful beast. We were soon at the chĂąlet where I was heartily welcomed by our friend the Chanoine Carrel who presented me to his friend the Chanoine BĂ©rard These two gentlemen had been botanizing a and chamois-hunting on and around the Nona during the last week, and their spoils were represented by a pile of botanic presses and the horns of a chamois lately slaughtered. I passed a charming hour with these gentlemen, listening to their week’s exploits told in the liveliest and most agreeable way, and if I could have forgotten than Mr Marsh might perhaps be anxious about me, I should have been quite reconciled to my adventure. At last the rest of the party appeared. When they came in I found my disappearance had occasioned more anxiety than I had dreamed of, the other guides having told Mr Marsh that the path I had taken was frightfully steep and dangerous, - a mere goat path - of course he had been dreadfully nervous at these exaggerations. The fact was that by far the worst part of the way was the one common to both routes, namely the descent to the chĂąlets of ComboĂ«. “How did you come down the Col?” said Mr Marsh to me. “Rode down.” I said. “I would not have had you do it if I had been with you for all Piedmont” I smiled and remembered the break-neck passes in Arabia down which I had ridden on a trembling camel and in his sight too - but we were then risking our lives every day and this is our first experience this summer. We lunched with the Chanoines who kindly joined us afterwards in the ascent of the Signal - a higher point on the Col than that over which we had passed and commanding a view, they assured us, little inferior to that seen from the Becca itself. To reach this point we were obliged to ascend the Col at the place we had crossed in coming over, then we turned to the right keeping along the crest. My guide declared that he would not be responsible for consequences here. The Chanoine Carrel who was marching before us with his alpenstock stright [straight] as a Grenadier, said “Suivez moi,” and muleteer, mule and Madama did follow. “Madama had better look to the right hand,” said the muleteer, “if her head should grow giddy, she might fall.” The sight to the left was certainly not calculated to make one’s head steady - a perpendicular precipice of 1400 feet even at the chanoine’s estimate - and the highest part of the crest seemed to comb over like a wave. We reached the Signal without mishap. Mr Marsh, Chanoine BĂšrard & the rest soon came up, & we all sat down together by the pile of stones known as the Signal Sismonda. Let those who would have an idea of what was before us climd to the same point - or, if they are already familiar with other Alpine scenery, let them look at Chanoine Carrel Panorama from the Becca di Nonna. No mere words can convey any notion of it. The whole range of the Pennine Alps, from Mont Blanc west of north, to Monte Rosa west east of South, lifted its snowy summits in a more than semi-circular battlement around and above us. Further to the south stood the majestic Grivola with her giant sisters on the right and left, all white & glittering in their garments of eternal ice. These last are known as the GraiĂ€n Alps, and have been little visited by travellers until recently. But since the King goes to there every summer to hunt the bouquetins they have become objects of more frequent explorations. The peaks of the Becca and of Mont Emilius cut of the view between Monte Rosa and the GraiĂ€n Alps, or we might have had a peep out upon the vast plains of Piedmont. Every new experience in Alpine scenery makes one more timid about drawing comparisons as to the finest, etc. etc. - so, without saying anything of others we contented ourselves with feeling that the scene before us was most beautiful and most sublime. Even the best of company seems out of place on such occasions. One does not like to feel obliged to speak. Our friends of the Church were too familiar with this sight to be impressed by it as we were. The lively Chanoine Carrel drew out his flagelette and played for us some gay Italian airs which of course we shall always hereafter associate with the Signal Sismonda - the very object the Chanoine had in view, no doubt. We could not stay long, for though all thought of reaching the summit of the Becca this time was given up, we had still no little work before us to get back to Aosta. Mr Marsh said to me, and an ‘aside,’ “How are you to get down?” “On the mule as I came up, I suppose.” “If you get on the mule here again I shall certainly faint, I cannot bear it.” At this moment The Chanoine Carrel said “We will go down another way, and we must manage to get Madam down this slope, without the mule, it is too slippery for him to carry her safely down.” I trembled much more at the thought of the walk, but the stout Chanoine took me by one arm, placed an alpenstock in my other hand which he showed me how to plant in the sloping soil, and in this way I slid down for many rods only taking now and then a step rather by way of checking than adding to my velocity over which I had very little control. This time I was frightened - not for the immediate consequences, but for what I might feel on the morrow, and when at last I was placed on the mule I trembled so violently that I could scarcely keep the saddle. The fresh air soon revived me and cooled the throbbing of cheeks and temples; we took leave of the two learned Chanoines who were going back to the chĂąlet before descending to Aosta and then made our way as we could down the sharp zig-zag of the mountain. Mr Marsh and Carrie walked nearly all the way to the town - Carrie making short cuts down the goat-paths and even down the slides - greatly to the amusement of the guides. It was really funny to see how she managed her alpen-stock, leaping with it very like a performer in a circus. Once she went down handsomely, - but was up and flying on again before we had time to be frightened or to laugh at her. We reached Aosta at about four very, very tired, but having had a delightful day. of

This day of rest came most welcomely. We were all dull enough this morning, but Carrie the least and I the most so. My head ached violently and I had no control over my limbs which almost refused to support my weight. A light breakfast garnished with a cup of black tea, did wonders for all. We began to chat merrily before the tea-pot was drained and little more was said of fatigue. The Chanoines came in after service and took Mr Marsh off to see the curiosities of the Cathedral, some old cloisters &c &c. Chanoine BĂ©rard is quite learned as a philologist - and he and Mr Marsh discussed kindrid [kindred] topics very sympathetically. These two Chanoines belong to different - chapters is, I think, the term they used, and the history of this difference is singular. In the time of the Arian controversy the Bishop of Aosta took the side of Arius. One of his presbyters, Saint Ours, seceded and with him a portion of the Church. The Church property and the Church privileges shared in the division. This latter split has continued ever since although the difference in doctrine has been healed. The Chanoine Carrel belongs to one branch - the Chanoine BĂ©rard to the other. There [illegible] is in one of the cloisters an odd old carving representing the devil in the act of strangling the heretic bishop, a legend which Chanoine BĂ©rard evidently did not consider as a binding article of faith. Before separating from these gentlemen we talked of the mountains once more and the Chanoine BĂ©rard gave a very amusing picture of his brother Carrel’s chamois-hunt two days ago. He said they were scrambling for botanical specimens among very ugly looking rocks and precipices when suddenly the Chanoine C. cried “Chut! there is a chamois! I must go back for my gun.” “You cant pass me here.” “I must, I will, or you must turn back.” “I am afraid to turn back here, you said we could pass around the other way without returning over this dangerous ledge.” “Yes, but the chamois is there, I tell you you must go back” - and back poor BĂ©rard had to go. The rifle was fetched, and BĂ©rard who was following his friend again rather from shame than inclination, was drawn on and on until at last the merciless hunter made him hang with a sort of mountain hatchet upon a firm rack above their heads while he scrambled down lower, and actually made use of the legs of his trembling brother Church-man to steady himself till he could reach a projection firm enough to support him while he took aim at his victim. BĂ©rard expostulated vigorously bus the heartless Nimrod only responded: “N’ayez pas peur. J’y suis.”

At half past 4 this morning we were again on our way down the valley. Nothing can be more enchanting than such an Alpine vale in this still, sweet, bright morning hour. The pastures looked greener, the old cattles more picturesque, the distant snow peaks more briliant, the nearer mountain tops more fantastic than we had seen them before. If we could but have shut our eyes to these most woeful specimens of humanity - the inhabitants of this valley. Why should man grow monstrous where nature is so lovely! We arrived at San Vincent at about 7 1/2, and leaving the rest of us here Mr. Marsh went on, hoping to reach Turin tonight.

I was too unwell to do any thing better to-day to better than to listen to a French translation of the Lamplighter which I have not read in English, but which is so much liked in Turin as to excite my curiosity. I find the self-sacrifice it inculcates very admirable but it is trivial in incident tedious in detail and every way unartistic. I can’t understand its immense popularity.

Mr Marsh returned at eleven this morning and brought with him painful family-news from home - dear Mary’s illness with varioloid small-pox. My heart needs no other place of record than itself for such things and I have made it a rule not to note down my private griefs in journals except in the most general way - but this I record as an instance of a person’s having this fearful disease after having been successfully vaccinated in early childhood the having had varioloid a few years later. The war news is very saddening, too.

We set out on mules at 4 P.M. to cross the Col de Jou, intending to pass the night at Bressone, but I was so unwell as to be forced to turn back after a half-hours ride - the first time, I believe, I have ever been obliged to give up such an enterprise once undertaken.

Spent the whole day on the bed where I was laid when taken from my mule, but hope to be able to start again early in the morning.

Soon after 4 A.M. we were again on our way to Bressone, and this time successfully. Nothing could be finer than the day, or more picturesque than the path through among the walnut-trees and chestnut-trees, and through the green pastures, or more striking than the changing outline of the mountains as we ascended and descended the successive ridges. Chñlets in the most romantic situations called out our lively admiration till we were near enough to see the inmates deformed by goütre and disgusting from neglect who stood about the doors. In a little more than three hours we descended into the Val d’Ayas, one of the most beautiful Alpine valleys I have ever seen, and here, thank God, is neither goütre nor cretinism, although so near the Val d’Aosta and nearly parallel with it. We p breakfasted at Bresson, rested till noon, and then set out to cross the Col de Ranzola hoping to reach Gressoney by 5 o’clock. The ascent was not difficult on mules, and the charming valley we were leaving and the noble mountains around us lost nothing as we went on. One point of view particularly struck us. A very regular mountain head which rose near us on the right was at last completely crowned by more distant peaks which rose one after another until they formed a perfect diadem above it. We had hoped on reaching the summit of the Col to climb the crest of the Combetta, which commands a magnificent view of the Val d’Aosta and a fine panorama of the Pennine Alps, but clouds had already filled the valley and it was plain that we should gain nothing by going higher. The descent was very steep - quite unsafe for mules, and accordingly most of our party walked, or rather stumbled down, as they could, while I was carried in a chair without accident, thanks to a kind Providence and the watchful eye and strong arm of Pelissier, our invaluable guide from Chatillon. This man, a nephew of the Chanoine Carrel, is a fine specimen of his class here. He possesses a great physical strength, knows every thing about the Alps, and has a capacity for knowing everything else if he had had the opportunity. In America such a man would have taken his place among the cultivated and the wealthy; here he and his mule toil together over mountain passes year after year receiving a poor pittance from the traveller who needs their services. Still even in this humble sphere his natural superiority is felt, and the remaining five men whom we employed were as obedient to his word as the best disciplined soldier to his officer. It was still unclouded in the direction of Monte Rosa, and her glorious peaks and glaciers which were almost constantly visible on our way down well repaid us for the roughness of the way. The Val de Leys, like all these Alpine valleys, is most lovely, and as we came down low enough to tread its bright green meadows we found them [illegible] gay with a rose coloured crocus, very like what we saw in Tuscany last October. We reached the Hotel of the famous guide De la Pierre between four and five, and were glad enough of the rest and refreshment it affords.

M Marsh and Carrie took a long solitary walk of two hours down the valley, towards Pont St Martin. The precipices are tremendous here and they were struck by a touching inscription on a little chapel which stated that a shepherd was there watching his flock, his little son of three years old sleeping near him when suddenly a huge mass of rock came thundering from the hights [heights] above. The father escaped, the child was buried beneath it. They were very tired when they returned after four hours, having not very discreetly chosen the sunniest part of the day. I remained quietly on my lounge resting for tomorrow’s excursion to the Lys glacier.

We had fixed upon 4 this morning for starting to the Lys glacier, but our guides and other wise ones assured us that we should find it so cold at the foot of the glacier if we left so early that we should be obliged to shelter ourselves in a chĂąlet before arriving there and wait some hours for the sun to get higher. We were advised and did not leave till six. Even then the ride up the valley was cold notwithstanding thick shawls. For the first hour or more we did not ascend much, but after passing Gressoney la TrinitĂ© the ascent was very sharp up a kind of staircase very difficult for mules. Indeed the whole way from this village to the foot of the last moraine over which we had to climb was excessively rugged and difficult. This moraine we reached after a three hours pull. Here the mules were left, and the happy souls who had feet to trust to make use of them. I resigned myself to the inevitable chair and was safely landed on the ridge that overlooks the mighty glacier. It was, however, so difficult a feat for my bearers that my conscience smote me even in the midst of the strange wild delight I felt at overlooking so sublime a sight. We stayed here some time and then it was proposed to climb to a still higher platform. Our guides showed great willingness to take me, but I could not make up my mind to subject them to this fresh fatigue, and I was very glad I did not as Mr Marsh and Carrie after a two hours absence returned to tell me that they had not gained much by the greater elevation and Mr Marsh for a wonder suffered not a little from exhaustion. He felt much oppression and nausea. The descent of the moraine was so steep and slippery that it was quite evident I could not be carried down in the chair and the ingenious Pelissier twisted a shawl about my waist and retaining on end of it himself gave the other to the surest footed of the guides and between the two I slid down to the bottom of the moraine. We stopped to refresh ourselves in a neat little chĂąlet about 3/4 of an hour below the glacier. The mistress gave us a ver good cup of coffee and supplied our attendants with hot polenta and brimming bowls of milk and cream. We did not return to Gressoney till 5 o’clock having spent twice the time Murray speaks of as necessary to this excursion. It was only after a highly coloured cup of tea with our dinner that we dared speak of the next day. Then a council was held and it was agreed that if we could get a good nights rest we would start at 4 the next morning to cross the Col d’Ollen and so pass over into the Val Sesia.

I did not sleep much partly from fatigue and pain, partly from anxiety as to how I ought to decide what should be done this morning and partly from the weary moanings of a poor young Englishman who had climbed the Gran Haupt yesterday. Mr Marsh however felt better. The day was promising and I could not make up my mind to be a clog to the rest. Go, was the word - guides and mules were soon ready. - We swallowed a cup of hot tea and well wrapped in winter gear were on our way again up the Lys valley long before sunrise. The two first hours of our path were the I same as yesterday. The morning was lovely, the mountain peaks and precipices on each side of us looked majestic beyond description; especially the Graves Haupt on our left - a giant mountain of 11,000 ft. in hight [height], but too difficult of access for very stout men or invalids. At last we turned to the right and began to ascend very rapidly. About this time we witnessed a most singular phenomenon connected with the rising sun

The morning looked thick and foggy - there was no chance of seeing anything today and as we must be in Turin tomorrow we have no choice but to turn down the valley towards Varallo. We reached Piode after 4 hours mule travelling and here were to take carriages for Varallo. “Yes Yes” was the answer to our inquiries at Piode as to whether there were carriages to be had. Two were soon brought out - one tolerable, the other in the most forlorn condition imaginable. A poor tired jade was harnessed to the first, and one lame and tired both, to the second. This was too much for Alexander’s philosophy. He stormed right dramatically - called the padrone hard names - insisted upon having another and a better carriage which was standing near the door. The padrone said the carriage was not his, it belonged to a party who were on a pleasure excursion from Varallo, and who were that moment taking luncheon in his house Our zealous factotum no whit abashed ushered himself into the presence of this party - stated the case - said it was a disgrace to the country that the American Minister and his family should be put into such a carriage as had been proposed, & appealed to their patriotism to consent to give up their more respectable vehicle to the distinguished stranger & to return to Varallo themselves in the shabby, tattered, dirty thing which had been designed for us. There was something ludicrous in the very impudence of this proposal which of course was made without consulting us and which we never dreamed would be accepted. To our amazement however this amiable party seemed to regard the matter much in the same light as Alexander did. The young men discussed the subject with their sweethearts and the carriage was at once put at our disposal. I was heartily ashamed to take it but was assured that they would be more mortified to have strangers put into so miserable a carriage &c, and we were soon off amid the kindliest buon viaggio of our obliging stranger friends. One may form some idea of the difference in national character between the Italians and ourselves by fancying how a pleasure party of Americans would have treated such a proposal. We arrived at Varallo in good time, took room at the Post Royal but were visited all night by scents of a most unearthly nature. We were obliged to shut our windows though the heat was very great. Mr Marsh declared that he could only explain such an intolerable condition of the atmosphere only on the supposition that Satan himself was passing by. “And if that could be shown,” he added, “every human creature that inhaled it would be instantly converted.” Neither fire nor frost with all their attendant horrors could strike a terror like this.” I expressed some anxiety about leaving our door unlocked “Dont be afraid” he said, “if they have left their windows open every mortal in the house is dead before this time.” It really was something pestilential, and we could not sleep at all.

We drove from Varallo to Novara this morning - dined at the station and reached Turin at 5 1/2. The Val Sesia was pretty below Varallo but not very striking, and after we were fairly down to the plain the heat and dust were oppressive I felt rather sadly to leave the cool bright mountains for the noisy city but I did not know what heavy news was waiting for me there. I had scarcely thrown aside my bonnet when Mr Marsh put my letters into my hands. The first words I saw were “Lucy’s dreadful affliction in the loss of her child.” I dared not look further and another took the letter for me. Yes it was Flora - that most beautiful, most bright of all the children I have ever looked upon. But I have said I would not record private sorrows here and at least I will not dwell upon them with my pen. - only I must say May God pity the poor parents and the little brother and sister that are left as I pity them, and may He let us all see that glorious little creature in eternity as beautiful and bright and joyous as she was here. Could we ask to have her more so?

About noon today we left the Casa d’Angennes for the Hotel de la Grande Bretagne, and so shut the door forever upon another of these brief shifting years of our mortal life. We were heavy hearted, not at leaving this temporary home, but from the weight of public calamity and private sorrow which now presses upon us. Even Italian affairs seem on the eve of some tremendous crisis. Pulszky told us last night that the thunderbolt would fall somewhere soon. Garibaldi is no longer to be fed by the false promises of a weak Ministry or, what he believes to be, the falser promises of a Bonaparte. He cannot longer remain inactive if he will - and would not if he could. He knows he is the only man that can set Italy free by a strong hand, and he knows, too, that he has no time to lose. Every month of procrastination deprives him of physical strength - he is no longer young - and cools the enthusiasm of the people, or if it does not do the latter, risks its rising to uncontrollable fury. The ministry are in a panic, crying impotently to France: “Pray leave Rome, - pray give us Rome, or we are in danger of a wild revolution.” Garibaldi says “we dont care what France does, we will drive out the Frenchmen, and the Pope at all hazards, and we will have Rome!” Mr Artoni asked a Garibaldian officer the other day, where he had been. He answered, “To England - here is the order I received,” and he showed him a paper signed Garibaldi, in which stood these words: “Partite per la destinazione che vi ho detto. Garibaldi.”

Mr Clay came in this morning and told us that according to a telegram his own home and homestead were in the hands of the rebels. All the Clays are too decidedly Union-men to expect mercy at the hands of these traitors, and of course our secretary is very anxious for the fate of his family. Strange to say, a son of this very family voluntarily joined this lawless crew a year ago, and his father, - Brutus by nature as well as name - was the man to introduce into the Kentucky legislature a Bill disfranchising forever all rebels. Truly the state of things in America is something so unparallelled that one cannot help being incredulous even now with all this fearful amount of testimony; and such times as these have not yet produced a single man worthy to direct the tempest-tost state. Even those who were thought great, have dwindled to dwarfs, and are heard of no more. I often wish most devoutly that we were in our own country again, to share its sufferings, - a lighter lot, it seems to me, than to bear her shame abroad. Melegari, chief secretary in the Foreigh Foreign Office, came in this evening to ask Mr Marsh if it was possible that the Constellation, - a war-vessel of ours now on the Italian coast, was affording aid and comfort to the Garibaldians who are now in motion and threatening to attack the Roman Territory. Mr Marsh did not hesitate to answer that Capt Thatcher was a prudent and an honorable man, who would d do nothing and permit nothing to be done on board his vessel contrary to the Italian Government, and that, however much all americans might wish to see Rome a part of the Italian kingdom, they all acknowledged it was for Victor Emmanuel & the nation he governed to decide when & how they would have it. It is amusing to see how American influence is feared on this side the ant Atlantic even now when we seem to ourselves to have lost almost every thing. We talked a little about our leaving the Casa d’Angennes at which Melegari expressed surprise. It was, he said, one of the few houses in Turin kept with with sufficient cleanliness for an English or American family to occupy. “I am an Italian,” he added, but on returning after a twenty year’s exile, il faut avouer que j’ai trouvĂ© mon chĂ©r pays tres sale”! Melegari is lively and amusing but can’t be made to hear any thing. We found in him, though himself married to a Swiss protestant, the same feeling about our friend Botta’s marriage, that we have been sorry to find among all his old acquaintance here.

For several day, the thermometer has stood at 82 in the morning, 86 at 3 o’ clock, and 84 in the evening. This is just as it was last summer. To us the heat is not in the least oppressive though there is much complaining. The king’s proclamation this morning has caused a good deal of excitement. It is hoped the effect will be to restrain the enthusiasm of the people somewhat, and that at the same time the Gov. will feel that some steps must be taken to hasten the solution of the Roman Question. It really does seem as if something must come of all this agitation. Count Minischalchi told us just now that he found Milan yesterday in a state of fermentation and that a demonstration - pacific but significant - was looked for to-day. The Count is very full of his Syriac Testatment & his Prologomena, and very grateful to Mr Marsh for for some Oriental helps he has been fortunate enough to get for him. This evening Mr Marsh passed at the Marchese Pepoli’s - a good many persons were present. The De Castros came from the Court dinner given today in honor of the Portuguese Envoy who has come to ask in the name of his king the hand of our little princess Maria Pia. The other members of the Dip. Corps were not invited. -

The debate in Parliament yesterday on the king’s Proclamation was interesting. Nobody dared handle the heroic, single-minded Garibaldi roughly, and if Victor Em. gets Rome he will owe it to this impersonation of patriotism as indisputably as he owes to him Naples & Sicily though it may be won by other means than the sword.

Judge Thompson of Pennsylvania and Mr Booth of New York arrived this morning in Turin and hoped for later American news. We had nothing to give them and the only comfort we could get mutually was in an indignant Jeremiad over the past year’s doings and the present posture of affairs. Mr Marsh and the Judge agree much better in their political views than they did at the time they were in Congress together. The latter has got great light since those days, and regards Southern men and Southern institutions from a very different point of view. The gentlemen returned to dine with us, and during the dinner Judge Thompson gave us the history of his connection with the Fugitive Slave Law, admitted that but for himself it would have been put aside, admitted, too, that it was a horrible Bill - I use his own words - but justified his course on the ground that it was the only thing that could have saved the Union even then. Oh, how I longed to tell him, ‘would to God it had gone to pieces then before we were disgraced before the eyes of the world by that weak and wicked concession!’ Even under the circumstances I could not help asking him if he thought anything was gained really by that or any other instance in which the North had yielded to the unjust demands of the South. He said very frankly, No, and then went on to state the circumstances which followed the passage of that detested Bill in the House - the most ungentlemanly and treasonable speech of Mr Brown of Mississippi &c. &c. - facts which have passed into history which I need not repeat. It must be hard for Northern Democrats who are sincere patriots to look back upon the fatal political blunders during the last quarter of a century. AbbĂ© Baruffi cheered us in the evening by one of his pleasant and always interesting visits. He gave us the history of an attempt the other day to abolish the Biblical Professorship in the University. The proposition was brought forward and defended by Mattaucci [Matteucci] and out of the twenty learned doctors who were assembled to discuss University affairs, no one seemed disposed to enter the lists with against the learned Minister. The AbbĂ©, modest as he is, at last arose, and making good use of the fact that Ghingherelli, the present Biblical Professor, is a man no less distinguished for his great ability and his liberal views than for his admirable life, he also added this little circumstance, as he says with telling effect. Soon after Mr Marsh’s arrival here it was important to him, for some literary purpose, to get some exact information on certain points of Biblical criticism. Ghingherelli was, of course, the man to furnish it and did furnish it to Mr Marsh’s entire satisfaction. The aff AbbĂ© then went on to show that, setting aside all question about inspiration etc, the Bible was a book more or less connected with all history, all civilization, and that at this day when every other nation was devoting itself with fresh zeal to Biblical criticism, it would not be wise to attempt to ignore that branch of learning in the University of Turin. The vote was taken and all but three voted to sustain the Professorship. By the way, this same Ghingherelli delivered a discourse some two weeks ago, an extract from which struck us as very able. It was a reply to the argument against the doctrine of special interventions on the part of Providence. After alluding to the assertion so often made that there is something like profanity in asking the Deity to interfere with the laws of nature - he said: “But does not God himself allow man to interfere constantly with the ordinary laws of nature? Is not this the especial office of a free will? Shall a man put forth his hand [illegible] and hold back the rock that is ready to fall upon his child, and shall not the Almighty himself be able to do as much for his own creatures.” I do not give his words, but the substance, as nearly as I remember it.

Our papers from home are less discouraged in tone than we expected and we are glad to find the English press has not been correct in its statements of the lukewarm spirit in which the volunteering was going on. - As to the position of the Italian Government it looks more & more critical, at least so far as the actual Ministry are concerned. The grumbling is deep if not loud.

What will Garibaldi do - will he disband at the order of his king, or will he persist? In other words are we to have a civil war here or not? These are the questions in every body’s mouth this morning, and nobody ventures to answer. Mr Artoni & Mr Clay came to our rooms for a few moments this evening, the former a good deal disturbed at the present aspect of Italian affairs, the latter at the news from Kentucky. I am afraid Mr Clay will get so uneasy that he will resign & go home. We should regret this exceedingly, for though he has much to do to fit himself for his present position, yet his gentlemanly character and feeling make him a pleasant associate, and with the present policy of giving places merely for political considerations our chance is small of being so well satisfied with his successor.

The anxiety about Sicily does not diminish, though nothing has been heard for nearly twenty four hours. The beautiful Countess Castiglione of Paris passed the day in our Hotel yesterday on her way to join her husband in Ancona.

Still much uneasiness every where about Garibaldi and his movements. Dispatches are out this morning but so vague that one cannot help suspecting the scissors of the government have been busy. Regaldi, who came in to see us for a half-hour, thinks Rattazzi has not objected to Garibaldi’s schemes even if he has not approved them - that he may find it for his interest to condemn the movement now, but he should be held responsible. Mr Stephens from Australia dined with a patriotic son of the Bay State.

Even Turin is somewhat disturbed to-day. An attempt at a demonstration is feared, another proclamation is out & the gens d’armes are seen every where. Kossuth’s two fine-looking sons talk this morning rather despairingly of Gen. Garibaldi’s course - fear he is compromising not only the Italian cause, but the Liberal cause throughout Europe. The evening. Gen. Menabrea, who dropped in with the AbbĂ© just now, professes to think the storm will blow over without serious consequences.

The news this morning was not calculated to calm the anxiety of the friends of the Gov. The demonstrations in Florence, Genoa, etc, yesterday, though pacific, show a determination to overthrow the Rattazzi Ministry. Nothing better from Sicily. Count Masignac has left his card as ChargĂ©. This looks as if M. Benedetti did not expect to return for some time if at all. Some say he leaves on account of last winter’s social difficulties, others, on account of unpopularity caused by his having prompted the seizure of the journals that published the proclamation of Garibaldi, although prefixed with a disapproval of the wild Gen__’s course. In fine nobody knows any thing about it. The young Kossuths dined with us to-day, and scolded not a little about the rashness of Garibaldi. They are very manly & well-bred, but we were not a little surprised to see that they were rouged and powdered, and even their lips painted! I am not Mayjar enough to say whether this is a national costume or a fancy merely of these very young men - one is only eighteen. Francesco told us that Lord Palmeston [Palmerston] asked him once on occasion of some school-exhibition - “are you the son of your father?” - No doubt it was a slip - but it seemed to the boy very dull or very rude. Mr de Lima showed the codini colors this morning more plainly than I have ever known him to do before. It is Papistry that makes this naturally amiable man a sympathizer with despots.

No essential change in the character of the news from Sicily. Many still believe the course of Garibaldi to be dictated by Rattazzi, in spite of all his asseverations to the contrary, in the hope of acting on the fears of the French Emperor. It does not now look as if they were likely to take any thing by the motion, but the probabilities vary so much from day to day that it is idle to speculate. Mr Marsh, Mr Clay and Mr Artoni walked to the Superga this morning - leaving at five A.M. and returning at ten. They had a charming day for it, and enjoyed the view to perfection. Some cries of ‘Roma o morte’ in the street this evening. No notice was taken of them by the police.

The Opinione of this morning is in better spirits, but the rumors from Sicily are still conflicting. The blackness of darkness hangs over own country if the American journals do not make matters worse than they are which I am afraid they do not.

Mr Marsh & Mr Artoni walked to Chieri this morning 5 1/2 hours. This was a republic in the middle ages, and curious stories are told of its democracy six hundred years ago. A nolblr nobleman could hold no office and in fact was almost disfranchised. It offers now little of interest - 12000 inhabitants it is said, but does not look so large. The pedestrians came home in a carriage. I had a visit in the mean time from two Americans, who to my excited patriotism seemed to say the least lukewarm in the great cause. I hope I did not forget to be a lady, but I could not help saying to one of them, who seemed disposed to complain about the three dollars tax for passports, that I suposed such a tax would be most cheerfully paid by every American who had the means to travel abroad, that his absence from home at such a time deprived him of many of the opportunities of showing his love for his country which were constantly offered to those who were on the great battle ground, and that of course he would rejoice at every occasion of doing her even so small a service. My interlocuter asked me ‘how I was plased with Turin’.

The young Kossuths were with us again for an hour this morning, and one of them assured me that Hungary in ’48 offered her crown through his father to a son of Queen Victoria if England would espouse her cause. The day has passed quietly in Turin, thanks to the watchfullness of the city authorities. These festas - today is the feast of the Assumption - are always occasions for demonstrations, and I dare say we shall hear of them in the more excitable towns of the kingdom.

The Italian papers this morning announce the fact that their expectations from the Emperor yesterday are disappointed - It was his fĂȘte and it had been said he would certainly, in his reply to the congratulations of the Diplomatic Corps, give some hint as to his intentions with regard to Rome. The simple-minded friends of Italy thought the present agitation here would force him to say something. On the contrary the mysterious man says “the present agitation in Italy make it inopportune to touch upon the Roman question at present!” One might have guessed as much. [illegible] My thoughts last night were much occupied by a very beautiful young creature who has a room just opposite us in the HĂŽtel de Londres. She has attracted my attention for several days by her extraordinary beauty her rather questionable manner at the window, and by the fact that she seems to be entirely alone. Last night my maid told me that Alexander had seen her in the street, and followed her into a pastry shop. He found she was, as I feared, quite alone, and what I had not dreamed of, she was is an English girl. Poor unhappy child! I do not think she can be twenty, and her very dark hair and eyes are more Italian than English. She is pale and thin but so beautiful. I am afraid she has been forsaken by some wretch and left here among strangers to a most hopeless fate. I shall try to see if the Tottenhams cannot reach her in some way.

Col. Dowling, who walked home from Chu church with Mr M. says that civil war is inevitable. He is a thorough Garibaldian. American news to the 7th Aug. no improvement.

News both Italian and American much the same as for some days past. We feel sober enough, but more indignant than depressed.

Mr Clay has better news from home than we looked for. His father had a narrow escape from the hands of the guerillas but got off with the loss of his horse. His estate was not plundered. Morgan seems to have been driven back a disappointed man. Garibaldi goes ahead in spite of royal proclamations and ministerial threats, but the government allows no very precise information as to his movements to become public.

We have read American papers all day and have thrown ourselves into a fever over the stupidity and slackness of the military operations. But the most provoking thing of all is the fact that up to thi [s] very moment some of our officers are still sending back slaves to their rebel masters and wasting the energies of the army in protecting rebel property. I should rejoice to hear that every soldier under such a general had refused to obey orders, and I wouldn’t mind it if they were to lynch their commander - it would be a good example.

Garibaldi is said to be in Catania, the government troops who were in pursuit of him having discretely avoided a collision by taking the road to Messina! The government here are in a charming state of trepidation, and even in this quiet town all but the old codini of the Aristocracy look as if they had a surpressed Viva Garibaldi in their throats. The new song: Le parte Le porte di Roma. etc draws crowds under our windows.

Martial law is proclaimed in Sicily this morning. Things look ugly enough - . The common people persist in believing that Garibaldi has an understanding with the government, and this is their excuse for sympathizing. Mr Marsh is quite unwell today having decided fever. All, I am sure, the effect of this most distressing political news from America - traitors everywhere, and not a man in the country bold enough and strong enough to take them by the throat!

Mr Solvyns, who feels almost as much interest in American affairs as we do, entirely agrees with Mr Marsh as to the imbecility or want of good faith in the cabinet which unfortunately controls Mr Lincoln. If we may believe our journals it is the minority of the cabinet that rules the President - but quien sabe! One thing is certain, affairs are desperate enough, and if the people do not ‘cry aloud and spare not’, if they do not break [illegible] through some of the cobwebs that perplex the brains of our Collamers, and remind the Government that when all other law fails to do justice there is still a resource in Lynch Law - why then we are a lost and ruined nation. Mr Solvyns has little faith in the political wisdom of the Germans, though he admits that the liberal party among them is very large. He gave us an amusing anecdote of Count Brassier de St Simon on his last visit to Berlin. The count is not much in favor at court from his known sympathy with the Italian cause, and his suspected tendencies toward liberalism generally. At the royal table the other day the king said to him “Ca bien, Monsieur le Comte, il parait qu’on vous appelle un second Cavour,”Ah sire,” replied the minister “je voudrais bien d’etre, e je crois que vos affairs n’en marcheraient que mieux.” This must have been a bombshell among those royal diners. The poor Count! It is a pity that with all his brains he should be half mad! Mr Solvyns told us some lively stories - from Van Bosterhaut’s book, which we have not seen. The death of H Van Basterhaut was from a singular cause. He was in Rome and at some club and had been watching for some time in silence the performances of a tricky sharper. The black-leg was annoyed by the grave and very marked observation of the stranger, and by way of frightening him off, he sent to him one of his accomplices to ask why he had called him an escroc “Moi!” said the astonished Van Bosterhaut, “je n’ai pas dit ça, mais comme je le pense c’est bien possible que je le dise un jour!” The scoundrel challenged him of course, and, though reluctant to fight, the majestic old man presented himself on the field, and, once there, would accept no arms but the musket, and on plea of nearsightedness insisted upon a distance so short that the bully’s nerves quailed. The challenged man was inexorable, his ball went to the heart of the challenger and he received one in his own side which could not be extracted, and which, though he lived many years, was the cause of his death at last. Mr Solvyns, who was in the mood for storytelling gave us a droll account of a conversation between a Belgian friend of his and Heckscher a German agitator in 1848. the latter was describing the progress of the revolution in Germany in a very animated way with many gestures and as he went on half out of breath “ça marche - ça marche - comme -” “Oui, oui,’ said his interlocutor interrupting him,”je comprends, je comprends ça marche comme une vache en galop!” Our visitors all seemed in a shumor for telling anecdotes today. Mrs Tottenham told one that amused me not a little, and I wish the hero of it might be taken as a model, by all husbands hereafter. Some charitable person who was paying a vist to a poor old man who was ill was greatly annoyed by the incessant scolding of the wife. During a momentary absence of the shrew the visitor said “Why do you let your wife scold you all the time in this way? It is enough to make you ill!” “O” said this king of philosophers, “it pleases she, and it dont hurt I.” We had quite a long talk with Baron Poerio on the present position of Garibaldi and the government. He is distressed at the course the hero is taking because he thinks it desperate, but it is quite evident that he has no faith in the French Emperor’s’ disposition to give up Rome, and he wishes in his heart that Garibaldi might succeed in what he has undertaken. I was sorry to see the poor Baron who has endured so much for the good cause so discouraged. He really looked dejected and heartbroken. Speaking of Piedmontese aristocratic prejudices he said that Cavour’s battles with them were harder fought than any he had waged with the Austrians. He told us of a certain distinguished European politician who came to Turin with letters to the well known patrician and patriot Cesere Balbo. This latter gentleman expressed his regret that it was a season of the year when most of the society of Turin were in the country but proposed to invite Brofferio, Valerio, and several other conspicuous Italians to meet him at his country house in about fifteen days. The stranger replied that his time was limited, that he would only remain in Turin three or four days, but that he should be much obliged if he would give him an opportunity of meeting these gentlemen at his house in town some evening during that week. To this Count Balbo replied that he was very sorry &c &c - , that he himself of course could not share such absurd prejudices, but as these gentlemen did not socially belong to his own circle he could not ask them to his house in town, that they probably would not come if he did, and that at any rate it would give offence to his friends. But in the country he could receive whomever he pleased as the etiquette did not extend to their summer residences. As far as I could make it out this distinction was simply a question between title and not title. The Baron casually stated a circumstance personal to himself and which he said was a frequent subject of comment among his acquaintances. He said he had never accepted any order or decoration whatever, and that when he went out to dine here or on other festive occasions he was often reminded by a friend that he had forgotten to put on his orders; and that when he insisted that he had none he found it very difficult to make his astonished friend credit his assertion.

The papers from home this morning only added fresh fuel to our indignation, and we spent the morning in writing incendiary letters to friends. We shall certainly go home if matters don’t mend before matters many months. The last month has given us more time for reading than we have had for a year previous Among others writers I have made the acquaintance of Laisset, a French thinker whom it is a real pleasure to follow. We have taken up Quatrefages on the Unity of the human species, and it promises well. Carrie and I are deep in Italian too, reading half a dozen books at a time in our zeal to make the most of this quiet. In the evening she reads French to us. . The last book taken up being Memoirs d’un prisonnier d’Etat, by Monsieur Adryane. Yesterday we ran over Aleardo Aleardi’s new poem “Canto Politico’ which is making a great stir and which is full of fire. I wish this, L’Italie est-elle la terre des Morts, and some other books of the kind were in good English, that the English speaking world might know Italy and Italians better.

The plot thickens. Garibaldi has leaped the straits in spite of the fleet which was watching him, or pretending to watch him. Turin still keeps quiet.

Garibaldi has landed in Calabria at Melito! Would to Heaven we had a man of this mettle on the other side of the water! On he goes, though two armed nations are in pursuit of him, and all Europe raising the hue and cry ‘Stop the madman! Stop the madman!’ - still on he goes, and the people rise en masse and government officers fly like chaff before him. And our General with twenty millions of patriots to back him, hides himself and his men in trenches where the earth might as well be heaped upon them first as last. Garibaldi will no doubt go down in the unequal contest, but he has shown what a brave heart and a good conscience animated by a noble purpose can do single handed against the world. While our judgement is against him in this thing, while we regret that he should peril so rashly the destinies of his country, it is impossible not to feel one’s heart beat higher at every telegram which announces his triumphal progress. The government keep everything out of sight, but there is abundant evidence that all Italy is panting to join her hero.

Nothing is ‘let on’ - to speak in the refined dialect of Secessia Secessia - by the Government today, as to further operations on the part of Garibaldi. The Turinese journals of this evening are evidently in a tremor because the Continental papers intimate that to preserve good order in Southern Italy it may be necessary for the French Emperor not only to strengthen the garrison at Rome, but to send a body of troops to occupy Naples. I dare not pretend to be so much wiser than the wisest as to venture to pronounce whether Louis Napoleon would like to do this or not - but I give him credit for better understanding the Italy of 1862 too well to hazard such a step.

Today we had a visit from the beautiful Madam Ronzana, who came to make enquiries about her husband long in America. This lady famous for her connexion with Cavour is very fine looking and has the reputation of being very amiable in private life, the only blemish on her character being her intimacy with the great statesman - a a very venial offence in Italy. Her dress was very elegant - white piquĂ© with violet trimmings - violet & white feathers in her hat, with a rich black silk mantle. She is rather too stout but very graceful. This evening Madame Pulszky came in with her friend Madame Monnier - I am curious to know if the latter is the wife of the author of ‘L’Italie est-elle la terre des Morts’ - and gave us rather a serious start by announcing that her husband had been arrested at Naples! She was perfectly calm, knowing, as she said, that Mr Pulszky had gone to Garibaldi with the full consent of the Ministry here, solely for the purpose of trying to dissuade Garibaldi from his continued opposition to the government - a course which the Hungarian patriot disapproves as likely rather to retard than advance the prospects of European liberalists. She states moreover that Mr Pulszky has been in correspondence with Matteucci almost up to the time of his arrest and she is perfectly at a loss to understand upon what pretext this arrest has been made. Mr Marsh is to go with her tomorrow to see Rattazzi unless Mr Matteucci will go with her and state what he knows of Mr Pulszky’s former character and present purposes.

The excitement is constantly increasing. Many arrests have been made in Turin last evening and this morning. It is said most of the leading police officers are among the number and the guard duty which for some weeks has been kept performed kept by the national Guards is given over this morning to the regular GĂ©ndarmaria. A demonstration took place last night in Genoa and another in Milan - the latter it is said was almost revolutionary. General Durando told Mr Marsh this morning that it was evidently the policy of Garibaldi to excite these demonstrations so as to make it necessary for the Ministry to keep a large body of soldiers in all the principal towns and so prevent them from being sent against him into the southern provinces. He is not easy to catch - this man who may well be called one of nature’s monarchs, and he wears his own purple, too, right royally - A demonstration in Florence last night is also said to have taken place.

Early this morning an official note was sent to Mr Marsh by Gen. Durando the Minister of Foreign Affairs, which gave us a great start, though God only knows whether it is good news or bad. The note says that the Minister has just received the following telegram from General Garibaldi: “AprĂšs un combat acharnĂ© Ă  Aspromonte Garibaldi est tombĂ© en notre pouvoir blessĂ©. Presque tous les siens sont prisonniers. Les troupes royales Ă©taient commandĂ©es par le Colonel Pallavicini.” Garibaldi a prisoner and wounded by Italian balls! Will not the world say “Lo a second Columbus in chains!” There has been some monstrous bungling, if not duplicity somewhere that has placed this most devoted of patriots and heroic of heros in such a position as this. The inevitable consequence of this slaughter of Italians by Italians will be increased hatred throughout Italy generally to Piedmont. Perhaps there was no way to put down the cry “O Roma o morte” except to resort to military force, but at any rate no one who knows Garibaldi doubts that had he been frankly and fairly dealt with by the Ministry he would never have raised the cry under circumstances so likely to destroy the Italy he had made. It is to be hoped that the feeble slippery Rattazzi will now give up the guidance of the Ship of State to abler and more honorable hands. As far as we can judge now this is the only course that can save the New Kingdom from utter anarchy.

All was quiet last night, in this most docile of towns. Mr Marsh had a long interview with Mme Pulszky whose husband is in the Castello d’Novo at Naples. She professes to be calm, but at the same time says she thinks the present Ministry unprincipled enough to make Mr P. a victim if they such a course would flatter the despotisms they are now courting. She threatened the Ministers with a personal appeal to the king. They told her they had nothing to do with Mr P__‘s arrest - it was done by La Marmora who was supreme at Naples etc - that he would be released at once etc but that an appeal to the king would be of no use - ’What” said Madame P. ’has the king then abdicated!’ “Yes, in favour of the Ministry” was the sarcastic reply. In the mean time all communication between her & her husband is cut off - they are not allowed to write even under the eye of the police. This seems like Austrian times indeed. We have been were amused by some of our countrymen today yesterday. A gentleman from Philadelphia, a Friend by persuasion, said to Mr Marsh ‘Thou knows’t I don’t belong to a fighting class but still a man can’t help having some judgment on these subjects, and when the President gave the order to stop recruiting, I said, ’Where then are their reserves?” This was all said in so meek a way that one could not forbear smiling. Another Pennsylvanian came in in the evening, and was as much pleased as we are at the rumor of McClellan’s resignation. He says the infatuation of the country with regard to him has been perfectly inexplicable. Hee gave us some of his Irish experiences. When his boxes were opened by an Irish official the fellow stepped up to him slyly and said “Ye may give me what ye plaze sir’, He gave him two shillings and everything was shut up in a moment. Other Americans did the same and the tender hearted Irishman exclaimed”We musn’t be too sevare [severe] on these gentlemen, faith! they come from a distracted country!” Was there ever a more Irish reason? - I left my journal here to go to the dinner table. While we were there a gentleman sent in his card which he insisted should be presented, though our servant had already told him that we were dining in haste as we expected to leave Turin by the 8 o’clock train. It was TanĂĄrky who came in, in great agitation saying that Madame Pulszky had very bad news and wished to see him. Mr Marsh told him that her son had just been here, that he had confirmed what Baron Poerio told us half an hour before of the dangerous character of Garibaldis wounds and also gave De Pretis as authority for the assa assertion that the General La Marmora who was ordering the prisoners to be shot at Naples. We however had expressed no new anxieties for his father and had only requested an appeal to be made for poor Uih Ujhazy who is said to be among the prisoners. TanĂĄrky insisted that Madame P. had more bad news, and finished his entreaties by saying “For God’s sake Sir, do not go tonight!” Our dinner was a sad one. The fate of the great Garibaldi, unquestionably the noblest patriot which had blessed the world since the days of our own Washington, was enough to overwhelm one without thinking of the unhappy boys who were becoming victims of a misguided zeal for the good cause. Perhaps history may decide differently, but the present judgment is that Rattazzi has played a deep game, the object of which was to destroy Garibaldi and force the Emperor to give up Rome. By putting Garibaldi in opposition with the government he could make him guilty of a crime and then demand Rome as a reward for the sacrifice, backing up this demand by a warning - “You see how hard it has been to keep down the spirit of the Italian people - without Rome we cannot do it much longer, and if Italy really rises a general European convulsion is inevitable.” As soon as we had finished dinner finding Madame Pulszky did not come, Mr Marsh drove to her house. He found her much agitated but less alarmed than he expected. She had received a note an hour or two before from General ThĂŒr saying that he ’had the pleasure of informing her that he had just had an interview with His Majesty that he had been assured by the royal mouth that Mr Pulszky should be released at once and that a royal steamer would take her to Naples if she wished to join him there. The General asked in conclusion when he could see her for further explanations.” To this note Madame P. replied laconially enough: “Venez ce soir.” He came accordingly and had just left when Mr Marsh arrived. Madame Pulszky gave this account of the interview. “Having positive proof in my hands that this very ThĂŒr was the person who denounced my husband to Rattazzi and caused his arrest, and being utterly amazed at the impudence of the man in thus daring to try to represent himself to me as the author of his release, I could not trust myself to talk with him, but I wrote him this note” - and she showed the note to Mr Marsh. I am most sorry that I have not a copy of it, but the substance I can give. I should say first that Madame Pulszky had, for some gross offence, refused to receive ThĂŒr as a visitor for five months past. The note was addressed to “Monsieur ThĂŒr sous-agent de Louis NapolĂ©on,” and the lady herself put it in his hands saying “VoilĂ  ma rĂ©ponse.” She accused him of being the sole author of this unprovoked arrest, told him she was ready to prove it to the world if he dared to deny it, reproached him with his baseness for wishing to appear afterwards as his defender, and ended up by saying: “TĂ©rĂšse Walter, la femme de François Pulszky, prĂ©fĂšre vos denunciations Ă  vos services.” The worthy ’sous-agent’ uttered an exclamation of marked surprise on reading the note, and incontinently withdrew. The prudence of Madame Pulszky is certainly more likely to be called in question here than her spirit, but it is refreshing to see an exile whose husband even is in peril, dare to strip the mask from such a miserable hypocrite. And this ThĂŒr who is now busy denouncing Garibaldi and his little band owes all he is to Garibaldi even the very wife whose name of Bonaparte has linked him more or less to the fortunes of the French Emperor. Mademoiselle Wyse Bonaparte - I give her the first name, not as her right but by way of distinction - would not have married a Hungarian sergeant whose father was a butcher, though she might forget the latter fact when the world honored him as one of Garibaldi’s trusted generals. Mr Marsh found he could do nothing more for Madame Pulszky and so came home, wrote a note to the Minister of Foreign Affairs in behalf of Ujhazy - we dont know whether it is the old man or young, and concluded to set off for Switzerland in the morning.

After an almost sleepless night Mr Marsh rose very early and wrote a confidential note to Baron Poerio with regard to Garibaldi’s being sent to the U.S. in case he should recover from his wounds. The government here are very jealous of any sympathy for Garibaldi, added to the fact and Mr Marsh has no authority to promise anything on the part of our government. These circumstances make it difficult, even unwise, for him to approach the Ministry directly, but I hope his communication to Poerio, intimating that the U.S. of America might furnish both an asylum and occupation to those who might otherwise prove just now an embarrassment to the Italian government, will turn out a happy suggestion to all parties. Poor Menotti, the oldest son of the hero, has lost his leg, amputation being found indispensible even before their arrival at Spezia on the morning of the 31st. We left Turin soon after eight A.M. and with very heavy hearts. Before we return things must be better or worse. The French Emperor must make concessions or a general outbreak is inevitable. The whole peninsula is shaking as if a volcano were about to blaze forth, and the death of Garibaldi from his wounds, or any severity towards him on the part of the government would be very likely to scatter the throne of Victor Emmanuel to the four winds of Heaven. Our way was the usual one by sail to Arona. Among the hundreds of newspapers every where offered for sale I saw one which I wanted to get, but we had not a moment. It was the face of a lovely woman bathed in tears - Italy mourning for her fallen hero, fallen in fortune, if not deprived of life. One of our travelling companions in the railway carriage we believed to be Petrocelli the author of ‘I Moribondi.’ But Mr Marsh was not quite sure enough to speak to him. He also went on the steamer with us at Arona and landed again at Belgirate and we inferred from his conversation with some of his acquaintances that he was going to pay a visit to Nanzoni. Lago Maggiore seemed to us far more beautiful than last summer, in fact the whole country looked charmingly. The vines loaded with grapes nearly ripe, the rice fields just ready for harvest, and the fourth crop of grass just falling under the mower’s scythe. One threshing floor for rice contained several acres. We saw a woman gathering grass seed in what to us was a very novel way. She held in her hand a large close net of an oval form, three or four feet long and perhaps fifteen inches wide, and with this she struck the heads of the grass in such a way as to cause the ripe seed to fall into the net. At Bavens we were pleasantly surprised to meet Domenico, detto il Fattoretto, our old vetturino of ’49 - a good faithful soul as ever lived. We employed him frequently between ’49 and ’54 and when we last saw him he was very prosperous, having three or four carriages of his own with garzoni etc. He told us he had been very unfortunate, had been robbed, his horses had died, and worse than all he had lost his daughter. We were glad enough of an opportunity to employ him once more, & took his carriage to Domo d’Ossola. We passed the road which turns off to the Val Anzasca just above Vogogna, not without a sigh. But the clouds hung dark over the valley and did not look encouraging for the Moro pass which we wished to try in case we went again to Macugnaga. So we came on to Domo d’Ossola, but the last two hours a thick rain shut out everything from us except the poor women with their backloads of Indian corn or nuts or hemp. They are just gathering the walnuts which they shake from the trees as we do apples in New England. The hemp, when it is first gathered is beaten upon rocks till the leaves are thoroughly crushed, then it is laid in the bed of the river where the water is not rapid, or in little ponds, till it is properly rotted, as the phrase is; All this seems to be very hard work, and not more healthy, I fancy, than the cultivation of rice. For a description of Domo d’Ossola, see Murray’s guide-book!! It is a pity this oracular volume should not try to modernize these things a little now and then, so as to bring make such descriptions applicable to some period within the present century. One has however the satisfaction of enjoying a hearty laugh over the rococo to be found in it.

A heavy rain, which has been pouring all night and still continues, has cut us off from our intended excursion to Premia, thence to the falls of the Tosa, and afterwards from Formazza back to Premia and up over to the Val Devolo, and thence over the Col di Rossa into the Val Binnenthal which opens into the Valley of the Rhone, and so on to Brieg. We must meekly content ourselves by going like ordinary mortals directly over the great highroad of the Simplon. But we decide to wait till the flood abates before setting out on a route so well worth seeing a second and a third time.

The morning, though not fine, was an improvement on yesterday, and we were off soon after 7. The valley immediately above Domo is very lovely, - the luxuriant stopig slopes, thickly dotted with villages, comfortable-looking in the distance at least, rise fold behind fold, and spur beyond spur as if nature had here thought only how best to please man’s eye. By & by the valley narrows, the precipitous mountains draw nearer & nearer each other, and lilf lift their dark heads higher & higher, till at last the traveller finds himself in the famous Gorge of Gondo. There every thing was as we remembered it from last summer, the mighty masses had neither grown nor diminished, we recognized the same fantastic towers, fortresses, cathedrals, palaces, - the very weather stains were unchanged except that they were more spectral through the

‘T’aint for the vally of the thing, nor ’cause it magnifies, but I don’t like to be composed on.’ A common phrase among the lower classes in England as given us by Rev. Isaac Taylor.

rolling mists. One feature however was changed - the few waterfalls to be seen during the remarkably dry summer ‘61 were now multiplied by thousands - the whole valley was alive with them - they poured down every cleft and over every shelf, they burst from every cavity and rolled in broad sheets over the smooth, inclined surface of the rocks. sometimes they shot like water spouts over the ledges above our heads, giving us an extempore shower-bath as we drove under them. Whenever we stopped for a moment the music of their many voices was most delightful & we were on the whole not sorry to pass the Simplon once in rainy weather. The fall about a mile & a half above Isella which struck us so much last year presented the same beautiful lace-like appearance though less delicate from the greater volume of water - and the pulsations in its flow were not less distinct. At Isella - where the honest landlord produced a nice shawl which we had forgotten at his inn last summer, - we noticed two nice looking young Englishmen, one of whom soon after joined Mr Marsh as he was making a short cut by climbing from zig to zag in advance of the carriage. This young gentleman commenced a conversation which showed that he knew to whom he was speaking, and the charms of nature, as I infer from what Mr Marsh told me afterwards, were soon forgotten in the charms of philology. Our reposo was at the village of Simplon where we took a sort of dĂ©jeĂ»ner Ă  la fourchette in company with the two young men just mentioned and five other English men & women. The last five were seated between our party and the other two, & during the first part of the dinner had the talk quite to themselves, ridiculed the dishes in the presence of the unhappy landlord who was evidently doing his best, and gave sundry other indications of illbreeding and selfishness. At last one of the young gentlemen, who afterwards gave us his card as Rev Isaac Taylor Belgravia, addressed a remark to Mr Marsh to which he replied. It was quite a simple one which I have now forgotten, but the effect on the talkative five wass funny enough. They were instantly hushed into the most respectful silence and the philologists had it all to themselves for the rest of the dinner. This over we drew to the fire where the less learned of our two new friends made acquaintance with me by giving me the latest papers etc. He seemed very curious and I fancy from his manner that he never before talked face to face with a woman from New England. I was only sorry that I had not time to enlighten him a little more on some points where he evidently needed a little elementary instruction. We had scarcely passed the Hospice and begun to descend the Northern slope when a decided improvement in the weather took place - the clouds broke - the mists rolled back and when we could see the valley of the Rhone it lay in soft sunshine at our feet - ergal, according to travellers’ logic it is a vulgar error to call the south side of the Alps sunny and the North rainy - the epithets should be reversed. We reached the comfortable inn de la Poste in Brieg about 7. P.M.

Taking our host’s advice we set out for the Hotel on the Belle Alpe about 7 this morning and were soon followed by Mr Taylor and Mr Russell. The first part of the ascent is very steep and heavily paved, but on the whole the climb is not difficult for a mule & most of it delightful for a good climber. The view of the valley below is at many points enchanting and, as one mounts higher and higher, one glacier after another spreads itself out, one snow peak after another lifts itself above the horizon till at last when one reaches the Hotel the panorama is most wonderfully fine. A few rods to the north of the house a cross is erected, and from this point you look down upon that arm of the great Aletsch glacier which is turned off in a southerly direction by the foot of the AEggishhorn [Eggishorn]. This portion of the glacier is most river-like in its appearance. Its waving direction made much more noticeable by its dark central moraine which winds so gracefully, is no doubt the chief cause of this appearance, but the fierce north wind which came down the gorge and made nothing of stormcoats and rugs put a speedy end to our speculations and sent us shivering to the other side of the house. Here I sat down on a rug and cushions to enjoy the outlook to the South and a little chat with Mr Taylor when I was surprised by a rather rough tap on the shoulders and at the same moment the o sight of two paws just resting upon them. I turned round to shake off what I supposed to be a dog, but at that instant Mr Taylor had gave a blow with his stick and I was just in time to see that this gentle salute had been bestowed upon me by a pig so large that it would be no stretch of courtesy to call him a hog. T Towards evening Mr Taylor and Mr Russell returned to Brieg. We were sorry to lose them, especially the former who is a man of rare culture and most agreeable manners, and his evident admiration of Mr Marsh and his first book on English greatly increased his merits in my eyes. I hope we may meet them again.

A thick mist with occasional rain prevents us from crossing the glacier to the Aeggishhorn this morning as we had intended. We shall wait patiently one day and then if the weather will permit shall go over to the Hotel on the Aeggish hoping to ascend the horn if not the same day on the day following. The Bellehorn unfortunately is inaccessable for a chaise-à-porteur, and as usual Mr Marsh refuses to go where I cannot. We shall send the servants down to Brieg as they are neither of them very strong and do not feel that interest which helps one so essentially to bear the fatigue of these excursions. Indeed we are constantly regretting that the dignity of position forces upon us the necessity of taking them on such journeys. Our own bills [illegible] are twice as large for it, not to speak of theirs. And yet we have the best of servants. it is the fact of their being with us that makes innkeepers etc bold in making charges which persons of such distinctions are supposed to be above resisting. We have not yet quite adopted Cavour’s policy though I fancy Mr Marsh would for the mere comfort of the thing if he had the means to carry it out. Cavour says that when he was once charged something like 2,000 francs at a hotel in Paris where he stayed only forty eight hours and where he had not once dined, he found it very hard to make his secretary under stand that it was a part of his policy to be imposed upon with out making the least resistance. Among the no inconsiderable variety of dishes which our little mountain inn furnishes us the chamois figured to-day at dinner. To please game epicures it had been kept to the latest moment, and the odour during the process of carving was enough for weak nerves, but when the dish was actually placed under our olfactories it proved too much for some of the guests - two young gentlemen left the room, one of the ladies who had been waiting for the delicacy with evident impatience sent in haste for her smelling-bottle, and Mr Marsh opened the door in the face of the driving storm. In spite of all these aggravated symptoms, two persons at the table actually took the abomination on their plates - yea more did actually swallow the same to the increased discomfort of the assistants. Our deliberate judgment is to rank the murmul-thier [murmeltier], on which we dined yesterday, above the chamois as an edible.

No change in the weather except for the worse. We found ourselves surrounded by snow several inches deep, and every peak and pasture was dazzlingly white. About nine it ceased snowing and the mountain mists closed so thickly around us that we could see only a few rods from the inn, and the little Alp on which it stood seemed a miniature island in the midst of a still, grey sea - sea around and above us. By and bye the magic ring broke and throughthe ragged rents appeared patches now of blue sky, now of dark mountain ridges bristling with firs, now a soft green Alp, and now the little village of Brieg deep down in the Rhone valley at a mile below our feet. But most striking of all were the glaciers on every side which would flash out, now one, now another as the sun touched this or that. Another hour and the mists shrouded us in as thick as before. As I looked down into the lake of fog below me a huge hawk came sailing up out of the mysterious abysse and floated round and round our little world, much as Milton’s Satan is supposed to have done around the larger planet, and he was as evidently in search of mischief. Again the mists melted - or rather broke - and again there was hope of a fine day, but soon fresh masses came rolling down from the Bellehorn and every little curling vapour seemed to dilate and dilate a thousand fold like the Arab’s jinn until the heavens and the earth were entirely concealed. An hour or two after the rain came in torrents, but we didnot have chamois for dinner and we went to bed tolerably content.

We had decided to spend Sunday here without regard to weather, and therefore were less sorry than we might otherwise have been to find the rain still pattering on our windows when we woke. Our fellow captives are, an English painter and Jacques BlĂŒmenthal and his lady cousin of musical notoriety. The waiting maid says they wish to sink their profession so far as we are concerned, so of course we don’t like to ask if they play the guitar etc. though the instrument hanging on the wall and this long-continued dull weather are sore temptations. These three persons compose one party, and there are as many different plans of operation as there are persons. They have spent the day mostly in trying to compromise, but the discussion is becoming more and more vive without any very encouraging prospect of adjustment. The Englishman wishes to be off at once, the lady says she wont go in such weather, but she will leave the first fine day, Mr Jacques says he is not going down on the first fine day after having waited a week for it, he will either stay and enjoy it or he will be off before it comes. The poor Englishman then proposes to go alone. Here both his loving friends set in and declare he shall never do it - it is most unreasonable of him - most unkind of him. The Englishman says that they two, like Jack Sprat and his wife, might get on very well together but there is no alternative left for the third; - Jacques looks like relenting - lady pouts, grows tearful - Englishman hushes up; - we get up, go to the windows, call attention to some remarkable phenomena about the clouds, and a scene is averted, Dinner is served at five. There have been certain alarming odeurs about the passages for the last six hours & an innocent marmot which was seen approaching the inn in the hands of a hunter had been suspected to be the cause. What else could it be? As to chamois no body dreamed the cook would venture on that again. About the third couse, however, a dish was brought in that caused a decided sensation. Can that be the marmot? cried everybody. “Nein nein” said Marietta, “it is another bit of the chamois. The cook has dressed it quite in another way, and she thought it would not smell so high.” We all cried out in a breath “Don’t cut it, dont cut it, take it away.” Poor Marietta, half mortified, half amused, fled with this “anderes StĂŒck”. We none of us wanted any more dinner, but out of pity for the poor girl we sat it through.

Snow was falling thickly when we woke, but our resolution was not to be shaken - down the Belle Alpe we were coming at all hazards. Accordingly we booted and cloaked and hooded, and set off for Brieg about ten o’clock. The snow had changed to a thick mist before we were off, and we saw little of the magnificent scenery which we knew was everywhere about us even after this mist had partially separated. The higher mountain peaks were covered all the way down to Brieg which we reached soon after one. So ends our expedition to the Belle Alpe. The Æggishorn we have to give up of course.

We left Brieg this morning - the finest since we left Turin, though by no means perfect - about 8 1/2 with very fair promises from our vetturino that he would take us down to Sion in five hours. Our four horses dashed off with so much spirit that I expected to see them out of breath in half an hour, but they held out famously and by one o’clock we were winding up the hill at the foot of the picturesque old towers, cathedral, etc., and were in Sion even before the time fixed. The drive was in some respects a striking one. The fearful destruction of beautiful meadow-land by the torrents, the tremendous masses which had fallen ages and ages ago from the mountains on the left, then rich vinyards covering all the lower hillsides and loaded with grapes nearly or quite ripe, white, purple and golden, - all these were constantly alternating and constrasting strangely with each other. As we came nearer Sion the grapes looked more & more tempting & we sent our vetturino to a man in one of the vinyards to see if he could get some for a consideration. He came back with the vine dresser each bringing as many clusters of beautiful Muscatelles as they could hold in their hands, they were perfectly ripe & I never tasted better fruit of the kind, even in Italy or the East.

From Sion we came by rail to Bouveret at the South Eastern extremity of the Lake of Geneva, thence by boat across to Villeneuve and along the shore by the Castle of Chillon and Montreux and Vevay and Clarens, and so on to Lausanne - a shore as classic as it is enchanting. We drove as soon as possible from Ouchy to Lausanne, and took rooms in the Hotel Gibbon overlooking the lake and the very terrace on which the historian walked after writing the last sentence of his immortal work. But I was too ill and too tired to think of anything but the rest of a bed.

A rather dull day but the lake was quiet and beautiful beyond description and the mountains though cut off midway by the clouds very striking. There is much here that reminds me of Burlington. The lake is less broad, but the mountains far higher and grander and the snow peaks which crown them add immensely to their grandeur. Mr Marsh and Carrie went to the Cathedral which has been sadly stripped, and most of the old monuments which remain are grievously mutilated - the work of the French Revolution your guide tells you of course. The monument to Lady Canning by Bartolini Mr Marsh thinks well merits all the severe criticism which has been bestowed upon it - or perhaps I should express his opinion better by saying that he thinks it quite beneath any criticism at all.

Mr Marsh left us this morning for London taking with him only Alexander. The day is showery, but the Hochschilds came in for an hour and rather cheered me by making themselves much more agreeable than I have generally found them. The Baron does not look well and coughs badly. We did not talk about Garibaldi as I knew we should not agree. By the way since leaving Turin I have said nothing of Italian politics in my notes. The wretched vasillations of the Ministry at Turin are really not worth noting I - now they will try Garibaldi by court-martial - now before the Senate - now in the common courts - and now not at all. Now Garibaldi is in danger from his wounds - now they are quite insignificant. One thing only is certain; the tone of the government organs of the French press is most humiliating to Italy and scarcely less so to all Europe. It is strange enough to see how this one man, Louis Napoleon, holds the nations of the Old World - England not excepted - chained to his chariot-wheels. Ten years ago an American might have looked on and thanked God that he was not born on this side of the water, now, unhappily, he can only bow his head with still deeper shame because he is a citizen of __.

Nothing to disturb our quiet today except a sight of the note from Bixio containing an account of his visit to the captive Garibaldi In this he declares the statements put forth by the Ministry as to the care and attention they have bestowed upon their prisoner to be false. He asserts that upon the 5th of September when he saw him he had not even been furnished with a change of linen, that the surgeons had been obliged to apply to a lady in Spezia for bandages &c. The account he gives cannot fail to excite the strongest indignation, and seems to confirm the suspicion Mr Marsh expressed as soon as he heard that this terror of tyrants was wounded: “It would not surprise me if it were thought good policy to let him die of his wounds if they are serious enough to be managed anyhow so as to accomplish the end.”

The Hochschilds made us another long visit this morning and we talked of little but America and American. The Baron seemed especially interested in the entire separation which exists with us between the State and Religion, and admits that it must eventually be so in all other countries if there is really to be any true progress among men. They leave for Turin tomorrow to be in time for the marraige of the princess Maria Pia which is to be on the 25th. She is to be married by proxy, then goes to visit her sister the princess Clotilda at Paris and immediately after embarks for Lisbon.

Carrie and I spent the morning with Manzoni and Monnier. I Promessi Sposi is like Shakespeare, always new. I wish Monnier’s L’Italie, etc. could be published in good English for the benefit of Englishmen and Americans. Carrie went to walk with Giachino at four, and I remained at home for two hours quiet thought. Far different were the two hours in store for me. C. and G. had scarcely turned down the street toward the lake when a servant brought me the SiĂ©cle. I read the successive telegrams from the 31 of August to the 5 September. Good Heavens! I started up, rubbed my eyes, and read again. All the same. I thought I must be dreaming. I went to the window. I took up the paper again - I might have believed the rest, but that McClellan had actually been appointed to command the relics of the army he had destroyed, seemed impossible, monstrous.

Carrie and I tried again to occupy ourselves with our books, but it was hard work. We were always breaking off to talk of home-friends, and our country, and to wish over and over again that Mr Marsh were here, that we could go back to America at once, that the next steamer would bring news of a mighty revolution which should have swept the pitiful Lincoln and his cabinet of dwarfs and traitors into the Gulf of Mexico with the rebels they have courted and protected and before whom they have cowed like the spiritless souls they are. From the time that Abraham Lincoln sneaked into Washington in 1860 like a cowardly thief, instead of entering it like a President of the United States, I have said in my heart: “The Lord has done with him.” He was afraid of being assassinated, forsooth! Let him have been assassinated! Had he been a second Washington it would have been better for his country that he should perish so, than that he should have been guilty of that act for which history has as yet no name. And his whole course since has been worthy of that beginning.

A line from Mr Marsh this morning enclosing the “horrid news” as he calls it. “McClellan,” he says, “after having sacrificed Pope’s army, is now to be intrusted with the surrender of Washington! And we shall soon here that Lincoln and Seward have begged England to mediate and save us from the extreme jury of the nigger-drivers. If Davis would hang them I could wish he might take Washington, but they will live to curse us longer.” He adds “Under these circumstances I shall not want to stay and witness the joy of godly England over our calamities - I shall get back to you as soon as I can.” Mrs Stout paid me a visit this afternoon. I was in no frame of mind to see a Southern sympathizer, and the blood flew to my cheek when I looked at her card. But I told the servant to show her in, making a silent resolve not to let my patriotism make me forget to be a lady and a christian. The sight of the poor woman in delicate health, wandering around the world with no friend and no companion except her two little children, and worse still with no earthly object in view except change- change, excited my pity so much, that I had no difficulty in keeping my resolution. Mrs Stout has some artistic talent, but I was soon satisfied that I was in no danger of being disturbed by anything that could come from a head so empty and so weak - even if she should speak of politics. I took good care however to say something of herself or her children whenever she approached the dangerous subject, and I have always found this a successful way of changing the topic of conversation with a certain class of persons. By tempting them to talk of themselves you might draw their attention from an opening Heaven.

I went down to the Beau Rivage today to see Mrs Wurts - such a nice, charming American lady, a lady in every sense of the word. We talked over the situation of our country almost with tears of indignation. She was born in a Slave State, her best friends are slave owners, but she does not hesitate to say that Slavery is the cause of all our troubles, and could she influence the President the death-blow would be given it tomorrow. We had what Charles Lamb would call “a good two hours curse” at the imbecility and treachery which seems likely to ruin us; and England did not escape her share. I went back to my own hotel only to be further mortified and distressed by telegrams from America three days later, coming down to the 8th of September. The Italian news is scarcely better. The new kingdom threatens to become worse than vassal of France. The only hope is in the overthrow of Rattazzi, an event not likely at present, it is feared.

After an almost sleepless night I found myself this morning most impatient for Mr Marsh’s return. At half past one he came, having travelled night and day from London. Everything there went off satisfactorily with his publishers. Murray, too, was very civil. The Estcourts came to town to receive him, and did everything for him that affectionate friendship could prompt. Every body else whom he cared to see, (except our new friend of the mountains, Mr Taylor) was out of town, and he had little heart for the Exposition. Story’s statues, however, more especially the Sybil, called forth all his old enthusiasm for Art, and he finds no words to express his admiration. He found no letters in London from America almost to my relief, for I have been trembling many days lest fresh bad news might be in store for us there. He is not less distressed than I am at the news from America, but much less disappointed, he [illegible] has been waiting for it so long. He gives news of Pulszky’s release, but we shall know little about it till we see him or his family.

Mr Marsh used the few hours left yesterday in replying to letters waiting for him at Lausanne, and at six this morning we were off for Lauterbrunnen, by way of Fribourg, Bern, Thun and Interlaken. The day was thick and cloudy, and though it did not actually rain, we could see nothing but what was very near us, and lost of course both the Juras and the Alps. By a singular combination of light and shadow on the Lake we witnessed one very extraordinary phenomenon. As we were running along the shore of Lake Leman we noticed near the opposite shore, to on the right hand, a large white-looking object, which might have been the sail of a vessel had it not been altogether too large. We strained our eyes for a long time, wondering what it could be, evidently not a building, and yet it seemed an object very considerably elevated. At last, by the help of a strong glass, we made it out. It was simply the mouth of the Rhone! After a hearty laugh we both agreed that we would never again find fault with Turner for painting lakes that stood on one end, having seen the Rhone perform that same feat with our own bodily eyes. The country through which we passed was extremely pretty. Immense numbers of apple-trees every where were literally breaking down under the ripe fruit which they were just beginning to gather. The principle industry we saw, however, was potato-digging It was universal from Lausanne to Lauterbrunner. In general, the potatoes were thrown out by a plow or harrow. [Image] A mile or two below Lauterbrunnen we caught sight of a waterfall which made us all exclaim in a breath “See there! See there!” At the same moment the coachman called out “The Staubbach, the Staubbach!” It was indeed a wonderful sight. The clouds lay low on the mountain-crest over which it shoots and gave it the appearance of literally coming from the clouds. Indeed the whole valley is musical with countless waterfalls, eight or ten of which we can see from the windows of our hotel.

Having made up our minds to remain here today we were not much disturbed to find the heavens still dark and lowering. The mysterious Staubbach, in full view from our window compensated us, we thought, for other losses. After breakfast we went out a little to get a nearer view of this fall, and altogether the scene was a singularly fine one. The grand precipices, or rather buttresses, that hem in the valley, the valley itself so p softly, richly green, its numerous chĂąlets most picturesquely disposed on the little rolling knolls, the subdued Autumn hints of the disiduous trees, and the low gentle hush of the waterfalls - we missed nothing. About one o’clock, however, the low heavy mists began to lift, the icy foot of a glacier here and there came out, then, as the clouds thinned, we could trace the shining rivers higher and higher, yet ever lost in the dark [illegible] masses of vapour which seemed continually rolling upward, upward. At last strange spectral points glimmered through the watery mists lighted, as it seemed, by a pale cold moonlight. “The Silberhorn!” cried one of our waiters, and very silvery it looked too. So came out one after another, yet and one after another disappearing and re-appearing, the Breithorn, the Schwartze-Mönch, the Schnee-Spitze, the Mönch, and last of all the highest point of the Jungfrau which seemed not only to touch, but to penetrate into the very heavens. We watched the wonderful changes produced on these stupendous snow-covered mountains by the sunlight, now bright, now faint, and by the diminishing and dilating vapours, sometimes covering them with the thinnest possible veil, then leaving them in the brightest blaze of sunlight, then softening them down to the coldest moonlight, then hiding them entirely from our sight, only to lift again the perpetually shifting curtain and to call forth new expressions of delight & astonishment. We quite forgot the Staubbach in the spectacle before us, but, turning our eyes once more to the right, what was our astonishment to see this world-renowned fall apparently reduced to half the height we had given it in the morning, when it seemed to pour literally from the very heavens. The few clouds which were now visible in that direction, had retreated far, far into the depths of blue, and the immense distance between them and the top of the ledge over which the Staubbach pours dwarfed the its height - or rather seemed to dwarf it, to a degree I could never have imagined possible except from actual observation. And yet the Staubbach falls nearly a thousand feet perpendicularly - I said falls, but floats is a far more appropriate word, for a motion so gentle, so graceful as is that of these descending waters.

A glorious morning tempted us to ascend to MĂŒrren with a faint dream of the posibility of climbing the Schilthorn the next day. We went first to see the Staubbach in the morning sun with its gorgeous rain-bow. Nothing could exceed the brilliancy of its colours - and then the fainter rain-bow above it, and here a broken fragment of another, and there another. A few steps aside and all was lost. I could not help thinking: so it is ever with us mortals - there is a rain-bow of divinest promise always near us if we will only put ourselves where we can see it. Turning back a little from the fall we began a sharp ascent on the same side of the valley. Three quarters of an hour of steady climbing brought us to the stream which forms the Staubbach, but before reaching it we had already crossed some half dozen, what we should call in Vermont, swift mountain brooks, that poured down the precipitous ledge below us in falls that would be thought very fine were it not for the far finer Staubbach. We reached MĂŒrren in a little less than three hours having greatly enjoyed every new snow-peak that rose upon us as we ascended. Next after the Munch came the Eigher, a mountain very striking in its form, and not much inferior in height to his brother, the Monk. After this came the Wetterhorn, and more other horns than I can name. Southward too, beyond the Mittags-horn came the Spalten-horn, the Lauterbrunnen-horn &c &c. One of our guides pointed into the deep valley south of the Jungfrau, and between it and the Schneehorn, and told me that this was the Roth-thal. Here, he says, is often heard the roar of cannon and artillery and all manner of frightful sounds. Nor are the sights less unearthly which are beheld by him who ventures far into its recesses. Out of this valley comes the wild huntsman, and all the horrors that attend him. In fact this Roth-thal is another Bloxberg. Mr Marsh and Carrie, who walked, did not complain much of fatugue although we were now nearly two thousand feet above Lauterbrunnen. We summoned ‘mine host’ who thought I might be got up the Schilthorn tomorrow, and after enjoying an indescribable sunset here we went to bed hoping for a bright morning.

Mr Marsh woke me soon after ten to tell me that he did not feel quite well, and that I must not be startled by his striking a light, as he wished to go to Carrie’s room for some camphor. I had been asleep but a few minutes. While he was gone I sprang to the window and looked out. Never except in Egypt or Arabia have I seen the stars shine with such a glory. When Mr Marsh came into the room again and I had assured myself that he was not likely to faint, I begged him to look out. Jupiter hung stood over the summit of the Jungfrau with a disk as distinct as the moon [illegible] ever [illegible] showed. The Pleiades hung like a cluster of jewels unspeakably bright in a heaven which was neither blue nor black. Every star that was visible from our windows seemed a little sun, and their extraordinary clearness, added to the reflection from the mighty masses of snow and ice around and above us, made the night as light as ordinary moonlight. The excitement of this night-scene, anxiety about Mr Marsh, and the thoughts of the difficult and dangerous expedition planned for the morrow, and continual home memories prevented me from shutting my eyes for the rest of the night. I rose several times to look at the stars. Never have I seen Orion flame as he flamed last tonight. At five we rose - Mr Marsh declared himself better, and soon after six we were on our way towards the Schilthorn For the first three quarters of an hour Mr Marsh and Carrie rode, but I took a chair from the hotel. At the point where the horses were left - or five minutes after, the stiff ascent began. My men thought at first I could not be carried for some ten minutes but then concluded to try, and succeeded in getting me safely across the steep wet zigzags where the bare rock seemed to offer no foothold even for a goat. So on we toiled - hour after hour, now up steep, rocky acclivities, now along over soft green alps, then down into some bare valley, then up a shattered mountain-side quite covered with broken slate. Sometimes we crept for a quarter of a mile along these slopes with a precipice of from one to three thousand feet below us, and scarcely less above us. The foot-path here was barely wide enough to step on, and sometimes it was not visible at all. The guides showed Mr Marsh how to thrust his alpenstock into the slope above him, but warned him against using it below him lest he should push off the stones which were to serve as a foot-hold. Now and then they would hurl down a block into the fearful depth below us. I should not have thought of danger here had Mr Marsh been less heavy, but I could not help confessing to myself that one false step would be fatal to him, and I had to shut my eyes. Carrie, whose head seemed proof against dizzyiness called out to me to tell her how far it was down to a little pond at least three thousand feet below us. My answer was ‘Mind your feet, and hold your peace.’ Twice in the course of the ascent we had to pass a place like this. Mr Marsh found himself a good deal out of breath while we were still more than an hour from the top. But the tempting summit was before him, and I could not persuade him to give it up. This last hour was a very steep climb, and the precipices below us were even more terrible, but we had a better foot-hold, and extreme carelessness alone could have caused an accident. We had to pass through considerable snow but much less than would have been the case in ordinary years. At last we stood on the summit. I sprang from my chair, and swung a red Garibaldino over my head for the encouragement of Mr Marsh who was still some yards behind. Carrie and I spread a shawl for him on the broken slate and wrapping him in his great coat gave him time to take breath and look about him. What we saw no human pencil could ever paint - much less can words describe. [Illegible] The Schilthorn is much more isolated than most of these peaks, and we seemed to stand on an elevated island completely surrounded by mountains. There was a depression in this mountain-zone just towards the north, so that we could look over that portion which was without snow, down upon lake Thun, and then far, far beyond it over the whole of Switzerland which lay between us and the Jura chain, which formed a dark blue line on the edge of the horizon. A few cloud-banks were scattered over this vast tract, but for the most part, the prospect was unobscured. The wonderful feature of the scene however was the grand snow-range from the Faulhorn on the northwest east to the BlĂŒmlis Alp on the south west, and most conspicuous in this range were the Eigher, the Mönch, the Jungfrau and the BlĂŒmlis Alp itself. I only name the most striking, though none could have been missed without marring the picture. We were beside ourselves with delight, seeing all we had hoped to see and far more. We heard, at not unfrequent intervals, the fearful roar of the avalanches, but were not fortunate enough to see their fall. We could only make a short halt at the summit, as the air was piercingly cold, and Mr Marsh soon began to feel very chilly in spite of great coats and shawls. Our descent was easier and not less fortunate than the ascent, and we reached our hotel - home as we called it - (why shouldn’t we, we have no other) about half past two, Mr Marsh a good deal exhausted, but Carrie declaring she could very well go down to Lauterbrunnen. Our first order was for tea which we all drank ad libitum. After this even Mr Marsh pronounced himself equal to two hours more, and we nearly made up our minds to go down to Lauterbrunnen, but sober second thoughts decided us to stay where we were for the night. During this day, as on the day previous, many travellers came up to MĂŒrren, but they generally returned to Lauterbrunnen after spending an hour or two here, and few - none except gentlemen, staid to try the Schilthorn. Among other travellers we met here Mr Wilkinson of New Haven, an intelligent young man whom we conjecture to be a correspondent of the New York World.

We left MĂŒrren at half past six and were at Lauterbrunnen in a little less than two hours, Mr Marsh and Carrie still walking. The weather looked so doubtful all day that we gave up the idea of ascending [illegible] the Wengern Alp as far as the Jungfrau hotel, which we should have done had it been fine. We conclude to wait patiently a day or two if necessary for better weather

A continued rain has kept us here through the day, and we were beginning to talk seriously of going directly to Lucerne, when the sky brightened a little and we postponed our decision till morning.

A magnificent sunrise decided us to try the Wengern Alp today. So after paying a most scandalous bill to mine host of Lauterbrunnen - among the items which was a demand of six francs each for a breakfast, and thirty three francs for a man and horse to go to MĂŒrren, we being absent from his house only 46 hours, and 8 8 francs for the man who led [illegible] the horses beside trinkgelt - we set off not in the best possible humor, leaving the servants to bring the luggage by carriage to Grindelwald. Let me here say that of all the coarse and vulgar swindlers the German and Swiss Wirth is the most impudent. The glorious nature that surrounded us soon restored me to my wonted philosophy, however. We reached the HĂŽtel der Jungfrau soon after eleven, but much as we had enjoyed the morning we were unanimous in favor of the views seen during the ascent to MĂŒrren & from that hamlet. We waited at the Jungfrau for at least two hours hoping to see some of the avalanches said to be so frequent here. But though we heard several considerable peals like thunder and witnessed the fall of small masses yet there was nothing at all like my idea of an avalanche and I felt not a little disappointed when we were obliged to set off again. The hotel Bellevue, something less than an hour beyond the Jungfrau, and on the summit of the col commands a much finer view than the latter. The Eigher is from this point indescribably s ublime - but I should waste words in attempting to describe it. We found servants and dinner waiting for us at Grindelwald, and Mr Marsh and Carrie who had walked seven hours exclusive of the riposo at the Jungfrau declared themselves scarcely tired at all.

As we had concluded last night only to visit the lower portion of the nearest glacier and then ascend the Faulhorn to sleep, I indulged myself in a long morning nap. My surprise was not small on waking a little after 7 to find that Mr Marsh’s enthusiasm for glaciers had been nursed into a fresh flame by an hours contemplation of the grand one just before our windows, and he begged to know if I was willing to go up to the Jardin or Eismeer, before setting out for the Faulhorn. He thought four hours would be time enough to do the glacier and we might still go up the Faulhorn in the afternoon. I saw at once that if we did not go to the Eismeer it would always be a regret for him. So I [illegible] assented at once, we took the shortest of breakfasts and were soon on our way toward the glacier. After the first half hour the ascent is very steep and the path sometimes a by no means broad one along the very face of the rock with a fearful precipice below at the bottom of which opened lie gaping ice-chasms. Mr Wilkinson, whom we had met at MĂŒrren, made one of our party, and after about an hour and a half’s climb, my chair was set down, and the walkers stopped a few minutes for breath. While we were looking with delight on the sublimely wild scene below around and above us, we heard a faint sound and our guides exclaimed, “Da kommt die lavinen! Da geht sie los!” We looked in the direction of the sound, which by this time was like a thousand thunders, and never shall I forget the spectacle we beheld. First a cloud of fine snow shot down the wide ravine on the east side of the [illegible] Eiger, volume rolling over volume quite across the glacier with the velocity of steam from a high-pressure engine, and this was followed, quick as thought, by an ocean of snow-blocks pouring like a hundred Niagaras down the face of the mountain and on to the glacier. Here the snow- or rather ice-flood seemed to separate into rivers, some leaping into the bottomless crevasses, others tumbling headlong down the glacier, others still spreading out over its surface into lake-like patches of marvellous whiteness. The flow of these streams was as perfect as if they had been composed of water, and yet the drops that made up these awful torrents were huge blocks of ice varying in size from square inches to square yards and even much larger. Though this avalanche came from the mountain opposite the one on whose side we were standing, and the wide glacier lay diagonally between us - we must have been a mile from the point where the principal mass fell - yet the wind caused

Mr Wilkinson’s anecdote of the old lady who counselled her son to go always to church, she was not disposed to be nice ’as to what church, only she begged he “would go somewhere where the gospel was dispensed with.” A very orthodox gentleman, hearing the anecdote remarked that the mother must have meant to send her boy to the Unitarian Church.

by its fall dashed a shower of the fine snow in our faces, and our guides assured us that, if we had been on the narrow l ledge of rock more directly opposite, which we were obliged to pass a few minutes later, it would have been etwas gefĂ€hrlich on account of the violent wind. The length of time occupied by the fall of this snow-mountain from its giddy height was the feature in the phenomenon for which I was least prepared, and which will perhaps convey the best idea of the immense mass that fell. From eight to ten minutes the awful cataract continued to flow with almost unabated volume and while the thunder-like roar that attended it, seemed to threaten the utter destruction of both the Eiger & the Mettenberg. Among the sublime natural phenomena which I have been fortunate enough to witness, I shall place this avalanche beside the eruption of Vesuvius in the winter of ’49-’50. As soon as we had recovered a little from our excitement we pressed on again and in another half hour were at the ladders which it is necessary to descend in order to reach the glacier. They certainly looked rather frail for a man of Mr Marsh’s size, to say nothing of the dizzy precipice and the yawning ice chasms below, but we were now too much in the spirit of investigating the wonders of the Alps to think much of danger. One of the guides went forward and, advising us to cross the ladders one by one so as to throw no unnecessary weight upon them, he stood at the foot and passed us
[illegible] on to the ice till we all stood together on the frozen river. My chair was then brought down, I was carried in it when practicable, and when not I was lifted by the arm until we were all fairly across the glacier. We none of us thought it dangerous, except from the temptation to approach too near the edges of the bottomless [illegible] crevasses, The - bottomless, or terminating in roaring, whirling, eddying torrents. There was an indescribable fascination about these awful chasms which it was difficult to resist especially when you were told that in such a place a peasant had fallen this summer, in such an other forty years ago an English clergyman

Form of the artificial grotto, solid character of the ice - and yet full of flattened bubbles - stones in the ice - great transparency of the ice - depth into which one seemed to look into it.

 <span class="tn">[Image]</span>

 artificial grotto

was lost, &c&c. and his body recovered at last by lowering a man with a cord to the depth of seven hundred feet &c &c. In spite of these ill-omened tales we reached Grindelwald safely - after having visited the artificial ice-grotto at the foot of the glacier - about three o’clock P.M. too late to think of the Faulhorn this afternoon, but delighted with our excursion and decided to spend a quiet sunday here. I cannot help praising the dexterity of these Swiss in turning travellers to account. Every child you meet offers you fruit or flowers or breaks out into a jodel [yodel] for which you must pay of course, here a mĂ€dchen, supported by her mama sings ‘Steh auf.’ etc, there an old man, trembling with palsy, stands with a murmel-thier on his shoulder, and a Trink-Gelt is invariably asked for if not given without the asking. “What has that woman in her hand?” said I to one of my bearers, pointing to a woman who was rushing by me with what seemed some musical instrument - “Ich bitte um Verzeihung, Madama, es ist eine Frau die uns caffĂ© [illegible] gegeben hat - wiel Sie im Grotto waren, und wir haben gesprochen etwas aufzwhalten dass Sie ihr Spiel hören.” Accordingly my chair was set down and we had to pay for a performance on the Hackbrett, and so our coin paid for our guides’ coffee.

A most glorious day, and such as one only sees towards Autumn. We notice in Switzerland something of the rich colouring of our own autumnal foliage, though by no means so brilliant. We went this morning to attend the English Service which is kept up here through the summer. We three, with the addition of the clergyman’s wife composed the congregation, but the chaplain read well and preached well, and we really enjoyed it. One thought of his struck me as decidedly fine. Speaking of the comparison of the christian Church to the Jewish temple as a ‘building fitly framed together’ &c, he said that ‘as the stones in Solomon’s temple were all cut and prepared each for its own place at a distance from the ediface, and then brought together without sound of hammer &c, so God was preparing the lively stones of his new temple in far distant regions and yet each for his own peculiar place as would be seen clearly in that day when all shall be brought together and the glorious structure should be complete.’ In the afternoon Carrie and I went to the service again, Mr Marsh taking a ramble to the upper glacier instead. An elderly English gentleman however took his place in the Church so that we still counted four beside the chaplain. I was much touched by a few extempore words of prayer for the United States of America which the latter introduced with much feeling into the prayer for England and her Queen. The English gentleman above mentioned walked back to the hotel with us and we soon fell into a talk about the glacier which he, as well as we, had visited the day before. He declared it a most dangerous excursion, and said that though an old traveller he would not have undertaken it had he known its character. I can’t say that it struck me so except at the ladders which really seemed to me too frail for a stout man. At the dinner table we met our good chaplain and his wife and my new friend, and we had a pleasant hour together, parting like old friends instead of acquaintances of a day.

At six this morning under a glorious heaven we set off for the Faulhorn, directing our servants to go round with the luggage and meet us at Reichenbach where we hoped to arrive on Tuesday at noon. Carrie ran on like a gazelle, but Mr Marsh found it harder work than usual though the ascent was not very steep and the air cool. He finds an unaccountable difference in the ease with which he makes these excursions. We were a little less than five hours and a half in reaching the hotel on the Faulhorn. The view from this point has been so often described that I shall have abundant means of refreshing my memory without attempting it here, but I should be extremely sorry to forget how magnificently the Schreckhorn and the Finster-aar-horn soared into the sky, how the Jungfrau shot up still higher with a point sharp as an arrow, how the Silberhorn sparkled, and the beautiful BlĂŒmlis Alp, how proudly we looked at the Schilthorn on the top of which we had stood four days ago, and then how lovely the Swiss lakes slept at our feet on the other side below the sheer precipice on which we stood. All thought of fatigue was forgotten, and Carrie after her five hours and a half walk danced about on the dizzy edge till her uncle exclaimed “Come! you pesky little critter! Why don’t you keep still, you’ll be off there!” The cold wind soon sent Mr Marsh shivering down to the hotel, a few rods below the summit, and we were obliged to follow almost immediately for we had still a long piece of work before us. at a quarter of two we were once more en route. We returned descended by the same path as far as the little lake something more than a thousand feet below the summit. There we turned to the left and struck off for the Great Scheideck [Scheidegg] where we were to pass the night. Mr Marsh walked with much more ease than in the morning, and we accomplished our task in less than three hours. They made us very comfortable at the little inn which stands just under the foot of the Wetterhorn. As I looked at this stupendous mountain pile which here is pyramidal at the sides, and an almost perpendicular precipice forms the face, I half shuddered with a strange feeling that it might fall over at any moment and crush us. A finer sunset than we witnessed here can hardly be imagined. A German lady and gentleman arrived at the hotel soon after us. The lady came on horseback from Reichenbach, in a very rich silk dress, with ample crinoline, white muslin undersleeves, handsome bracelets, etc. The crinoline in this poor little inn seemed especially out of place. Our sleeping rooms barely allowed a person of life-size to pass between the bed and the wall and how this unfortunate woman managed to dress or undress is a mystery to me. As she swept about the little dining room I could not help thinking of Monnier’s remarks on the ladies who went into Santa Croce and of whom he says “leurs robes comprimĂ©es Ă  la porte bouffĂšrent et ballĂšrent dans l’église avec une impertinence &c.”

Once more at six we were enjoying an Alpine sunrise on an Alpine pass, and then began a race down the Gr. Scheideck to Rosenlaui. The men who carried me literally trotted for an hour and a quarter at the end of which time they reached Rosenlaui. How Mr Marsh and Carrie managed to keep up I cannot imagine, but they did so. Mr Marsh said that he shook the solid earth as he trod, and that the Reichenbachers would certainly be dreading an earthquake. Carrie in her mountain costume, dress looped up with a scarlet balmoral and scarlet stockings, tripped off like a robin greatly to my admiration and envy. At Rosenlaui, besides enjoying the beautiful clear glacier, we made great speculation in the way of Alpine plants and flowers, and then were off again for Reichenbach. The whole walk was a delightful one, but we saw the giant snowpeaks disappearing one after another with a heartfelt sigh. We took the principle fall on our way - it is fine, but I should not set it above many other swiss falls - and we arrived at the hotel at nine, having come down in three hours including several stops. One of these was to see a chamois, penned up for the benefit of strangers. I thought him not much prettier than a goat at first glance, but when he leaped up on certain little shelves to get at his food I changed my mind, and thought I had never seen anything so graceful. Our servants had engaged a carriage to take us to Lucerne. A bath and a breakfast, and at half past ten we were whirling along the valley at the most ambitious vetturino speed. We soon began to ascend the BrĂŒnig, over which a new carriage road has been opened this summer. The hill is long and steep and the descent rapid, but the road good. The Alpnacher See looked most placid and lovely, in fact the whole drive around the lake to Lucerne was charming. The Rigi forms the most conspicuous point, but our hope of climbing it is now small as Mr Marsh’s feat in the morning cost him a severe blister on the heel which will bear of nothing nearer the shape of a boot than a heelless slipper. We were in Lucerne by 1/2 past 5, and glad to look forward to one day’s rest.

Our day of rest proves a stormy one so far as the elements are concerned, but we are not sorry to remain quietly in the house, particularly as we are cheered with better news from our Army. McClellan reports victories on the 17 and some days previous. I hope he is not a liar whatever other faults he may have. Of Garibaldi the rumors are very conflicting though it seems probable that his wounds are doing well and that an amnesty will be proclaimed for him and his followers. From the General’s reply to a note from our Consul to in Austria - a most improper one to be written by a man holding official relations with the Austrian Government - it would seem he intends to go to America as soon as he shall be released. The excitement in England shows that if Garibaldi has acted imprudently in this last struggle for the freedom of his Country it has only convinced the world more fully than ever of his pure and lofty patriotism, and the enthusiasm that his name calls forth was never so great as at this moment.

The rain which prevented us from leaving Lucerne at eight A.M. ceased before noon, and at half past two we were on board the Stadt Mailand steaming for FlĂŒelen. A cold northwind did much to chill our enthusiasm for the beautiful scenery in sight from the lake, and the many points of historical interest were looked at rather as a matter of conscience than inclination. I think I shall better refresh my memory by referring hereafter to my Guide than by recording my own chill impressions. This Vier Waldstatter See seems unpropitious to us. When we passed through it nine years ago a semi hurricane, which gave the passengers a douche every three minutes, drove us into the little cabin below where we meekly awaited [illegible] shipwreck. This time the wind was less violent, but piercingly cold. The rain at Lucerne was snow a few hundred feet higher. The lower part of the Rigi was completely white, the upper portion being still wrapt in heavy clouds. We reached FlĂŒelen about five, dined, and made ourselves as comfortable as we could for the night, though the hotel L’Aigle noir or L’Aigle d’Or I forget which, was none of the savouriest.

Wrapped in our storm-coats and with plenty of shawls for the higher latitudes, we were off an hour before sunrise intending to pass the St Gotthard today. The morning was as fine as possible only the air very cold. The snow peaks that were still visible were gorgeous in the coming sunrise. The Bristenstock especially struck us as most imposing and rekindled all our zeal for mountain climbing. This huge mass of in height seems at first to form the southern boundary of the lake and is beautifully framed in by the two ranges that shut in the lake, or rather the bay of Uri, on the east and west. As we drove on however we found that it was several miles distant from the water. Sometime after sunrise we saw the shadow of this giant mountain thrown most distinctly across the sky. It was the first time I ever witnessed such a phenomenon though Mr Marsh had seen it once before though I do not remember where. It was most curious. The passage of the St Gotthard is now so frequently made and has been so often described that, as I mean to do on all occasions where I can, I refer myself to what abler pens have written before me. There was nothing very peculiar in our experience Our coachman did his duty faithfully, our hosts did their best for us at breakfast and dinner, and we slept at Airolo as tired travellers should. As to the scenery of the passage so far it is certainly very interesting, the higher portions especially sublimely desolate, but what we have yet seen of it would lead us greatly to prefer the Simplon for the grandly beautiful and picturesque. The great marvel of the pass to us was its wonderful engineering. The curves, the turns, the windings, the loops, the zig-zags, the bridges of the road could only be understood or believed by one who has actually passed over it, or by a well authenticated model. The descent from the Hospice to Airolo must be very trying to weak nerves and unsteady heads. Our coachman failed to point out to us the spot where poor Magenta was thrown off the precipice and killed last spring, but I believe it was somewhere on the north side of the pass. The Guide constantly points out the scenes of the terrible conflicts between the French and the Austrians and Russians in 1779 but one cannot well make out the positions when driving rapidly and it is only the foot pilgrim who can get a very distinct idea of them.

Finding our vetturino unwilling to undertake to reach Bellinzona Lugano tonight, and that we must stay at Bellinzona we did not hurry off this morning, and the sun was shining gloriously when we got into the carriage. The scenery between Airolo and Faido gave us far more pleasure than anything we had seen on the North side or at the summit of the pass. It is not only grand and sublime but highly picturesque, especially at the Dazio Grande. This is contrary to Murray who prefers the other side (for example, near the Devil’s Bridge) and the summit. It is quite possible that the still higher mountain passes and summits which we had just left seen in the Oberland had left an image in our mind that naturally diminished by comparison the grandeur of the famous St Gotthard. We lunched at Bodio and at three o’clock P.M. arrived at Bellinzona, a beautifully situated romantic looking old town with three medieval castles all in picturesque positions. One of them, Murray says, is used as a prison (the Castello Grande or San Michele) and in its tallest tower are confined those who are condemned to lifelong imprisonment for murder, “the other prisoners are in chains but do not seem unhappy” - a remark which struck us not a little comically.

A five o’clock this morning we were already shawled and prepared to jump into the carriage, having given very peremptory orders to our Jehn to have his horses ready not a moment later as we wished to reach Lugano in time for morning service at the Pension of the Hîtel du Parc. But no vetturino was forthcoming Alexander stormed, had every room in the house searched for our missing man, but nothing was to be found. A messenger was despatched to the other hotels, the groom of the Angelo having fed our horses, was ordered to put on the harness - all to no purpose. Alexander muttered imprecations upon the Tedeschi through very pale lips, and declared it would have been impossible for an Italian to be guilty of an act so unworthy of a galantuomo. At last we became seriously uneasy, thinking that nothing short of the watchhouse or a fit of apoplexy could have detained him through such a hidious clang of bells as we were suffering from, and we were debating whether it might not be best to make enquiries of the Police when finally the worthy Tedesco made his appearance just two hours after he had promised to be at the stable. The poor fellow had evidently had a Rausch and looked so crestfallen that our indignation gave way to pity. Mr Marsh said not a word, and Alexander contented himself for the moment with saying “Dio mio, siete un galantuomo!” The culprit made no excuse, but an hour or two after when Alexander looked a little less fierce he confessed that he had drunk rather freely the night before and consequently slept heavily, while the faithless cameriere had failed to wake him at four o’clock as he had promised A pretty drive of four hours brought us to Lugano, but too late of course for morning service. They gave us fine

We were delighted with the frescoes of Bernadino Luini in the Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli at Lugano. The principle scene standing quite in the foreground is the crucifixion, but a little behind this are represented all the chief events in the great drama of the Passion - the crowning with thorns, the procession to Calvary, the descent from the cross, the entombment etc, all rendered with the exquisite sentiment for which this painter is so remarkable. The face of the Virgin with the infant Saviour and St John in one of the chapels is most refined and lovely. It is difficult to imagine anything more touchingly pure and tender. There is less of the earthly in this Madonna than is to be found even in Raphael’s A copy of this picture was in our drawing room at the hotel, very good as a picture and instantly recognizable as a copy, but the face of the Virgin gives nothing of the spiritual refinement and grace so striking in the original. Mr Marsh thinks even the original picture has been greatly tampered with. Fortunately, for the most part, in the drapery and about the neck of the Virgin Mother.

rooms at the HĂŽtel du Parc and a nice breakfast, and we were quite charmed with the beauty of the lake and its vicinity. It struck us as even finer than Lago Maggiore, and the contrast of the climate with that of Northern Switzerland was most agreeable. A very luxuriant vegitation gave not the least sign of frost or even autumn chills, and we sat with open windows all day and even through the evening. At half past three we went to the Chapel of the Pension where an English service is held every Sunday throughout the year. The congregation consisted of eighteen persons apparently all English except ourselves. The clergyman, whose name we did not learn, was rather American than English in appearance. His reading was not particularly good, but his sermon partly extemporary proved him a scholar and a man of more than ordinary originality of thought. He was earnest as well and left on my mind something of the impression one gets from a sermon of Robertson. This is a noble idea on the part of the English Colonial Society, to send clergymen to different points on the Continent where English travellers are likely to spend Sunday. It is not only a great thing for English and American travellers, but in Catholic countries it gives the inhabitants an opportunity of learning that Protestants are less paganish and heathenish than they have been taught by their priests to believe, and I have no doubt it will ultimately prove a wedge for the admission of religious truth into many dark places. So far as we can judge from our own observation the Society is careful to send abroad neither bigots nor fools - a most discrete precaution.

We left the HĂŽtel du Parc - once an old monastery, the grand refectory of which now serves for the principal dining saloon, and the cloisters for a refreshing promenade in dull weather, - about noon with real regret. I was so charmed with Lugano that I could not help being very sorry that it was not nearer Turin, in which case I should have pitched my tent here for the month of October, Mr Marsh coming to me as often as he could. But Como is nearer and to Como we must go. A pleasant sail through the lake to Porlezza, and then by carriage to Menaggio on the Lago di Como. I should have said that a rain in the early morning prevented Mr Marsh from paying a visit to Cataneo, the learned editor of the Polytecnia Politechnico of Milan, a sturdy republican and a patriot who has done immense service to his country. Here we took the boat again, touched at Bellaggio, perhaps the loveliest point on the lake, dividing its two arms, and thence by a series of zig-zags reached Como about half past six. The first hour and a half was delectable, but the shadows of night evening were already round us when we passed the Somariva villa, (now Villa Carlotta) the Arconati villa was still less distinct, at the Villa d’Este we saw nothing but lights, but the great moon was out and standing over the hills when we landed at Como. As I intend to stay on this lake some days I shall reserve what I have to say of it till we have made some excursions. Our company on board the boat was very aristocratic. One party especially attracted attention A lady in a very rich light colored ChinĂ©e silk, with black embroidered mantle trimmed with broad Maltese lace, a white straw bonnet with two knots of very bright wild poppies on the front, and one in the inside, a short white veil coming just below the chin and a lap dog with a blue ribbon about its neck. The gentleman with her was a quiet looking person decidedly distinguished in his bearing. I should add that this lady, as seen through her veil, was a woman of extraordinary beauty, and also that she had two maids to her, either of them fine enough to have served Victoria, and the gentleman was supported by a butler and courier. The lady took a seat near me, and soon recognized an acquaintance in an aristocratic looking English woman on the other side of her. Thereupon began a conversation in a tone which made it impossible for me not to hear, and which lasted from Bellaggio to the Villa d’Este. I should be ashamed to record anything heard in this way, had not the principal speaker been fully aware that I could not help hearing her, and the frequent and perfectly composed glances that she gave me showed that she was entirely indifferent as to her auditors. The two ladies seemed to have many mutual acquaintances, as they evidently both moved in the highest circles in England, and these acquaintances fared hard at the hands of the fair travellers. Lady This, and Mrs That, and Miss Somebody else were painted in colours anything but flattering. The first speaker generally commenced her remarks about one of these ‘dames de sociĂ©tĂ©,’ by saying “I don’t particularly admire her, do you?” “On the contrary I think her very ordinary” replies the other, or something to that affect. Upon this the former takes courage, states her objections more definitely, mentions very disagreeable reports, &c &c until the two, having left nothing of the unfortunate victim, are obliged to turn elsewhere for fresh material. One story particularly struck me, the moral of which lady under white veil said was that money and impudence could do anything in London society. The last English lady served up on this occasion was condemned for her habit of speaking ill of her acquaintances, which lady under white veil thought an unpardonable offense, and to which her friend responded that “it was indeed very low minded, but that the person of whom they were speaking had nothing elevated about her either in mind or manners.” The subject however which most interested them for the moment was that Lord ______ had run away to Italy with Miss _______ and that the husband of the lady with the red poppies had been requested by the fugitive’s parents to bring him back. This gentleman thought it much wiser to leave the young scapegrace to himself, “Any attempt at coercion,” he said “might get up a sentiment, and the affair would end in a marriage, whereas if not interfered with he would tire of her in a month.” As I do not even know the name or rank of this party my judgment on them must certainly be free from prejudice, and I am sincerely pained to find in the English aristocracy a style of conversation and an expression of sentiments so very unlike what I have found before among the few of that class whom I know well. Mr Marsh and I have often remarked how seldom our English acquaintances of the best families, spoke of persons except with kindness, and we have often wished that the best American society equalled them in this respect. My experience today however convinces me that there is another side to the picture. I forgot to say that the two ladies after discussing the Empress Eugenie’s method dressing by the help of a lay- figure with hair, complexion, etc like her own, and which her maids had to dress before they dressed Her Majesty in order that she might judge of the effect herself, - both agreed that the empress was not so very beautiful after all, that in fact with all her trouble she did not look better than other people and on the whole decided that she was rather hideous than otherwise - an opinion which has at least the merit of originality, though it will hardly be likely to to be adopted by posterity. Vain, frivolous, bigoted, history may describ [e] her, but never as ugly.

Mr Marsh, with both the servants, set out for Turin at ten this morning leaving Carrie and me to manage for ourselves for a couple of days. We called at once for a calamaio, and set ourselves violently to work on French and Italian. The day flew away rapidly in this way, and we succeeded in driving away anxious and lonely thoughts quite effectually. In the evening the Journal des DĂ©bats announced to us that Lincoln had at last spoken out in a more hopeful way on the Slavery question, that he had declared that the slaves of all states continuing in rebellion after the 1st of January ’63 should be forever free, those belonging to loyal masters to be paid for by the government, those belonging to the rebels, forfeit. Amen and Amen, say I with more than a Methodist’s unction - only why doesn’t this faithless Abraham say tomorrow instead of next year?

Our books were again our only resource, the weather, though very warm, being rainy and our rooms at the hotel not pleasant enought to furnish us much amusement. We consoled ourselves by discussing now and then the Amnesty which was published on the sixth, and the new proclamation of President Lincoln

A letter from Mr Marsh this morning tells me that he has a communication from Garibaldi offering his services to the Government of the United States. When this was talked of months ago I was afraid his presence in our Army would create dissatisfaction among our generals, and nobody could then have foreseen how much we should suffer for want of an able [c]ommander. Now, I rejoice in the prospect of seeing this more than hero fighting for the cause of the Union. Great as he has always shown himself, in the eyes of all men capable of understanding such self-devotion, he was never so great as now. I wish to heaven our position in Italy did not forbid us from going to see him.

I was disappointed last night in not seeing Mr Marsh. Letters this morning explain his detention. I hope he may come today in time for us to sit down at the Villa d’Este before night. We are comfortable enough here in the Angelo, only it is a pity to be on the Lago di Como and not have a fine situation. We have noticed one custom here which I fancy must be Lombard as I do not recollect it in any other part of Italy. When the servant brings in the lights and places them on the table for the evening, he always says ‘Felice sera’. This is not intended as a good night as it is said by the servant who is waiting upon you at table and who is coming and going for the next hour, and who leaves you for the night with ‘Felicissima notte’. It is evidently intended as a good omen for the evening and is, I dare say, connected with some superstition which I do not know.

This is a second entry for October 10th, at the beginning of a new book.

Mr Marsh with the servants arrived soon after nine this evening, bringing little news from Turin. American papers seem generally disposed to sustain the President in his new proclamation, at which I am delighted.

We went to the Cathedral this morning, enjoyed Luini’s pictures especially though there are many other things of interest about this grand old pile and its decorations. I confess these old world churches do give me immense pleasure, and I hope the taste of Protestants generally may more and more incline them to beautify their places of worship. Much as I have liked Luini before the Adoration of the Magi, in this cathedral, gave charmed me more than anything of his I have ever seen. It is very unlike most of his other works, even where it is not superior to them. The church of San Fedele, portions of which are very old and curious, contains no picture of interest except some frescoes by Gaudenzio Ferrari in a very faded condition. One only gives something like an idea of the genius of the master. Mr Marsh then paid the Prefet (Lorenzo Valerio) a visit and we then drove out to the Villa d’Este. The road takes us near many fine villas among them that of the Marquis Raimondi, the The unhappy father of the false woman who played so shameless a part toward the great Garibaldi in ’59 or ’60. The Villa d’E [ste] about half an hour from Como with a southern exposure was the residence of the wife of George IV and the hotel still goes by the name of the “Reine d’Angleterre”. It is a beautiful spot & the vegetation around it is almost tropical. The most luxuriant laurels and other trees that bear little frost, large japonicas which are left out all winter etc. I wish it was a little nearer Turin and we should certainly then make it our head-quarters till Spring.

We were told this morning that an English clergyman was spending sunday here and would have morning service for such as wished to attend. We were only too much pleased at this message and at eleven a little company of eight were gathered in a small room adjourning the dining-room of the hotel. The clergyman’s pretty, young wife accompanied the singing with the piano, and after a very good sermon we separated to meet again at seven in the evening. After the evening service we made a little acquaintance with each other, the clergyman was Mr Galbraith on his rea return to Bombay where he has already spent several years as a missionary. I infer from the very youthful appearance of his wife that they are just married, and that she is going for the first time. There is something very impressive in this meeting of a company of strangers to offer their homage to heaven together - strangers who have never met before, who will probably never meet again in this world. And then we part so like old friends - a link of a peculiar character seems formed between us. We were much interested in Mr Galbraith and his lady-like young wife, and when we parted for the night Mr Galbraith gave me Dr Bonar’s hymns to look over in the morning.

Not being able to leave my bed this morning I missed a goodbye from our new missionary friends who are to proceed on their way today. It was quite touching to see this girl-like young creature set off for a strange land with her husband for her only friend and companion, and when the two stepped into the little boat that was to take them to the steamer something like a foreboding sorrow mingled with the God-speed I gave them. Mr Marsh took a long walk - the only circumstance that varied the monotony of our day, the rest of it being spent in letter writing.

As I still continue invalided and in bed and Mr Marsh brought out old blisters again by his walk, we all stayed at home though the weather was most tempting outside. Papers and letters from home, and the alternations of fear and hope as to the ultimate recovery of Garibaldi gave us matter enough to think about and talk about. The agitating subjects that occupy us form a strong contrast with the extreme quiet of our situation. We scarcely hear a sound from morning until night except the gentle ripple - and even this is sometimes inaudible for hours - of the lake against the foundation walls of the Villa. A road passes by the back side of the Hotel but the sound of a carriage is a very rare thing at this season when the guests here are so few, and we are too far from the centre of the lake to here [hear] even the steamer when they pass. pass.

I gathered up my little strength and we went out for a short row about three oclock. We intended to pay a visit to the spring described by Pliny, now in the grounds of a villa belonging to the princess Belgioso, but our boatmen insisted there was not time to go so far before evening, so we contented ourselves with skirting the eastern shore of the lake for an hour, passing the villa of Madame Pasta, with extensive and fine grounds, Taglione’s villa, the famous villa Taverna, and then recrossing to the side opposite the Taverna we returned to the Villa d’Este passing that of the Englishman Courrier, and the Villa Pizzo, formerly belonging to the Arch-duke Raniero, but now for sale. The temperature was delicious, and the scenery charming. But unhappily for us we had lived on the Bosphorus too long and knew it too well, not to be continually contrasting this lake with it, and greatly to the disadvantage of poor Como. The greater sinuosity of the shores of the Bosphorus, the slope of the hills so much better calculated for terracing and for plantations of every kind, the terraces themselves so much loftier and grander in their mode of construction, the building is much more picturesque, the more sombre green of the cypresses, the majestic umbrella-pines - a tree scarcely seen in lake Como - and the thousand gilded caiques which make the Bosphorus always look as if it were some special holyday - but I should never have done with recalling the marvellous beauty of that dear old home of ours. We came home at five and found the Prefet waiting for us. He could not give any special information about Garibaldi, but says a friend of his has just gone to him and will bring him direct and positive news soon. We were surprised to learn from him that he, was (the Prefet) was editor of a paper so early as 1836, that he spent some mon months then in Florence when so many of Italy’s greatest and best used to assemble at Vieusseux’s. The prefet is not quite contented in his present position and talks of returning to Parliament.

Again our day was almost consumed by papers and letters, and the writing consequent upon them, and we did not go out at all. At five we went down to the table d’hîte, - a thing we seldom do - and were joined by eight or ten other guests. An English gentleman with a German wife and sister, very nice people, were our neighbors on one hand, on the other three Italian women, well dressed but very ill-bred. The mamma who sat between her two daughters gave her orders to the garçon very much in the tone in which a midshipman addresses a revolutionary sailor, and when an English gentleman who came very late took his seat at the table both mamma and daughters broke out into a giggle, then into loud and long-continued laughter, their mouths being at the sme time filled with bread etc. What was our surprise to learn afterwards that [image] these persons actually claimed to be ladies, that they arrived in their own carriage with coachman in livery etc., that Madame calls herself la comtesse and is no less a person than the wife of Franzini the president of the court of Appeals at Turin. When my maid stated these facts on the authority of the masters of the Hotel, I expressed my surprise to which she in turn expressed hers that I should be surprised. “If,” says she, “Madam could see the Marchesa Doria as I have seen her, she would not be surprised that ladies so much her inferiors in rank should conduct themselves as Madame Franzini and her daughters did this [illegible] night. Had they known that any person was at table likely to know anything about them they would have appeared very differently.” I should be sorry to believe that many of my gentle refined acquaintances of last winter are capable of such demonstrations or [as] I witnessed last tonight.

We have today another of those calm sweet days when all nature seems in perfect rest, - such a day as one never sees except in the old age of the year. We enjoyed it, however, only from our balcony none of us feeling quite well. Towards evening Carrie took a stroll through the grounds with Giachino. Our dinner company, some fifteen, was d nearly all English - among them the clergyman, a prepossessing man, who is to hold service at Bellaggio Sunday.

Catabene, the brother of the officer concerned in the affair of the Tyrrol last summer, came down with a friend by the first train this morning, sent by Garibaldi to see Mr Marsh. They propose to raise and arm two thousand men for the service of our Government, and Mr Marsh is to forward this proposition as made by them in writing to Washington. Accounts from Garibaldi both by Catabene and the bulletin are far from favorable. The latter admits there is serious cause for anxiety about the wound, and the former is firmly convinced that the ball is still in the foot. Catabene says he stood within four feet of Garibaldi when he received the two wounds, that he himself drew the boot from the General’s foot - the boot being still in his possession - and that both he and Garibaldi believed from the appearance of the wound at that moment that the ball still remained in it. Garibaldi assured the timid young surgeon who happened to be near him, that this was the fact, and begged him to cut it out at once. The young man, who trembled violently, examined it in the most shrinking manner and dared not make an incision. By the time that more experienced surgeons were called to it, the inflamation and swelling were so great that they could not judge so correctly as to the probable presence of the ball. Garibaldi told his friends at once that the wound was a serious one, and thought the foot should be taken off rather than the wound left in such uncertainty. It is distressing to think of this great man lying dangerously wounded by the hands of his own countrymen whose political saviour he has been. As to our cause, I am afraid it will never have the honor of his name as its champion, nor the strength of his arm for its defense - and yet it seems as if the world could not do without him now. The despatches from Berlin look equally. It is said some barricades have already been thrown up, and that there are other demonstrations of forcible resistance to the royal will. But in these days one does not expect much politically from the German race. The Italian papers are thoroughly depressed in tone. The resignation of Thouvenel and other hints from Paris have satisfied them that the magnanimous Napoleon III does not intend to make them a present of Rome just now. If there are new conspiracies the French emperor at least ought not to be surprised.

Our telegrams from America contain such a confusion of names, numbers and localities, that in spite of our anxieties, and even our distress sometimes, they make us laugh. For instance a terrible battle of two days duration is said to have taken place near Corinth, Tenn. 40 000 men in the Confederate side etc. The rebels are stated to have been defeated with very heavy loss, 300 prisoners having been taken, and that the routed army has fallen back on Richmond, Virginia! A long fall back this, truly. We were surprised this morning by a visit from Mr and Miss Barretta, Greek acquaintances of ours in Athens and Constantinople. How well I remember this young lady when she was at school with Mrs Hill, - a most beautiful girl of fifteen or sixteen. She is beautiful still - very beautiful, but I doubt much whether I should have recognized the gay rosy child of 1852 in the tall, pale, graceful, woman dressed in the deepest black as she presented herself this morning. She has just lost her only brother and her mother, and is now all that remains for her father to live for. Both seemed much depressed. We dined with them at the table d’hĂŽte and there had more opportunity of seeing how far the education of the young lady had been carried, and what resources, moral and intellectual, she now had to fall back upon in her loneliness. Poor child! She evidently hopes that time will bring back her former enjoyment of balls and soirĂ©es, but she has no idea of finding consolation in any other way. It really made my heart ache to think how dark the remainder of her life would probably be. Now twenty five or six years old, her bloom fast passing away, her old father not likely to live very many years, her large fortune though it may secure her from want will only expose her in some respects to greater risks. How melancholy that she has not the intellectual culture and the high aims and aspirations that would enable her to make a noble use of it. They left immediately after dinner for Milan on their way to their present home in CorfĂč. In the evening the Prefet came to our room and passed a couple of hours with us. He is much discouraged by the late course of the emperor though he tries to believe it is only a delay. He is certainly no partisan of the emperor, nor of Rattazzi. Still he seems to fear a decidedly reactionary cabinet in case Rattazzi retires. If La Marmora heads it there can be little doubt as to its general character. I said, ‘What will you do next? Try to cure Garibaldi, I suppose!’ “Oui, oui, certainement! mais c’est bien dommage qu’on l’a rendu malade!” The Prefet told us many pleasant things of Garibaldi from his own personal knowledge. He was once (in ’59) going with him from one town to another on foot. After a walk of many hours, Garibaldi said to him “You are hungry, perhaps?” “I certainly am” was the reply. “Well then we’ll stop at the first inn.” They did so, and Garibaldi ordered some bread, cheese, and a caraff of water. Valerio looked at the repast and exclaimed: “Mon Dieu! mon GĂ©nĂ©ral est-ce-que cela peut sous suffire! Pour moi, non.” and he added a dish of cold meat and a bottle of wine for his own benefit. We asked him if Garibaldi never took wine. His answer was: “Une petite goulte quelques fois, mais rarement.” On another occasion they passed through a field of Indian-corn on their march. Garibaldi examined the ears and seeing that they were just in condition for roasting stopped at the next house, enquired if the corn belonged to the family and asked as a favour that they would send and break some ears for his dinner. The corn was brought, the General roasted it himself, and sharing it with Valerio they dined on it, Garibaldi himself tasting nothing else whatever. Once when visiting him in his quarters, the general said to him very confidentially and quite in a whisper “Ti piacciono fichi?” (Do you like figs?) Being answered in the affirmative Garibaldi took him to a small closet in his own room and showed him some dozens of figs placed one [illegible] by one on a board which he had taken from under his mattress. By way of explanation the Prefet told us that Garibaldi was constantly receiving presents of fruits and flowers, (the only presents he would accept) of which he was very fond, but that his officers always got the lion’s share and it was only now and then as in the present instance that he kept the least thing for himself. The simple-hearted hero gave the Prefet a handful of his figs with as much satisfaction and as a generous boy would share his plumb-cake with a favorite companion, and was no doubt as well pleased with himself as if he had given him a splendid banquet. Valerio brought the good news that his own physician had just returned from Garibaldi and thought him doing well. We were struck by the Prefet’s speaking of his friend as the Joan d’Arc of the age, which seems particularly happy.

Mr Marsh went to Turin this morning, We had the promise of fine weather when he left, but the want of a boat at the best hour in the day, and the prospect of rain later deprived us of a row on the lake which we had planned. We had to content ourselves with letter writing and such books as we have with us, and at six we went down to the dinner table expecting to be quite alone. We found two gentlemen at the table both speaking Italian, one evidently a native, the other doubtful. The former, and extraordinary thing for an Italian, was very glum and his companion after many persevering efforts gave him over, and tried his neighbors of the other sex, first having waited to see of what manner of speech we were. An animated conversation in English was the reward of his amiable exertions; I have seldom been more amused. Our new acquaintance made it his first object to impress us with the extent of his travels, and I might add, of his knowledge as well. To encourage him I threw in wherever I could an experience of my own. When he talked of the Bosphorus, I spoke of the situation of our own residence there. When he talked of the charms of Southern Italy, I preferred Sicily. When he spoke of Malta I insisted that CorfĂč was far more attractive. When he told me that it was a custom in Mexico to slit the nostrils of the donkeys, I told him that the Arabs between Mount Sinai and Petra treated their camels in the same way. Alas, for me, he was not to be beaten out so. Without waiting for me to throw in anything more he told me of his ascent of Popocatipetl, of his researches in India, of what he had seen at Cape Good-Hope - in short in annihilated me. From foreign travel we passes to facts; from facts to principles; and it was amusing to see that the narrow dogmatism of the English character had in this instance not only survived but even attained an extraordinary growth, notwithstanding all this wide experience. As a general rule, the Englishman who has lived some years out of England loses some of his most offensive prejudices. Our chatty convive had carefully preserved everything national except shyness.

We took a small boat at three this afternoon with the intention of giving Carrie an opportunity to try her hand at rowing. There had been some wind in the earlier morning, but the water was now very smooth in the little bay on which our villa stands, but no sooner had we passed out side the first point north of us - a point included in the grounds of the Villa Pizzo, - than we found ourselves in quite a sea. Our boat was so very small and so low in the water that I hesitated for a moment to go further, remembering Mr Marsh’s great horror of such an embarcation when white-caps are abroad; but Carrie and Giachino looked imploringly. The boatman smiled, and we went on dancing up and down in quite an exciting way. At every new wave that came towards us we expected a shower-bath, and I am afraid some of us were silently praying for one. However we came home without accident, and but not altogether without a touch of sea-sickness on my part. At dinner we had our Englishman of the preceeding night, and a handsome young Milanese. The Inglese opened a strong fire upon the Italian by overwhelming him, or trying to overwhelm him, by the extent of his travels in Russia The young man listened respectfully, and when at last it came his turn, he surprised his more venerable neighbor by showing that he was not less familiar with Russia, and that his travels there had not been less extensive. The conversation was partly in English and partly in Italian, and the Milanese soon convinced the Englishman that England was not less familiar to him than was Italy to this ‘estimable Islander.’ On the whole the tone of the latter was decidedly less instructive than last night, and this change did not make him less agreeable. The Franzinis, whose ill-breeding disturbed us so much, had a table to themselves in the dining saloon - I do no know whether because they did not like us, or because their host had discovered that we did not like them.

The water was very smooth at 3 and we again took a little boat to give Carrie a chance to experiment on the oar. She and Giachino rowed nearly all the way to Como and back again - the boatman using his oars most of the time, but rather for show than utility. As we passed a villa on the eastern shore of the lake, I noticed two monuments at opposite extremities of the grounds, one in the form of a Greek temple, the other a pyramid, The boatman told us that the little circular temple was erected over an urn containing the arm of a young lady of the family; that the pyramid was in honor of a favorite dog. After a delightful row we reached the Villa d’Este a few minutes before Mr Marsh and Alexander arrived from Turin, They came by carriage from Arona and Mr Marsh was much delighted with the views he got of Monte Rosa, the Mischabel-hörner etc. He was quite charmed with Varese, too, with its beautiful country-seats and gardens. He was much disturbed however, by the mode in which the threshing is done there. In some instances he says the turf was removed from an acre or two of ground, then the earth beaten and rolled as hard as could well be done, & after this all the people of the neighborhood bring there various grains to be threshed. The work is done by hand with flails much like ours, or by the treading of oxen. Immense heaps of wheat, rice, etc are piled up in different parts of this roomy threshing floor & after it the grain is taken home it must all be washed in order to free it from the sand which in this mode of threshing must necessarily get mixed with it. A few American threshing machines would in one day do the work which occupies so many of these poor people for weeks and weeks. Nothing of especial interest from Turin. There seems no chance of a house for us there, such as our salary will permit us to take, and even the hotels are so filled that we are not likely to be able to get apartments in any of them for the winter

Papers and letters from America took up our morning till nearly twelve. With some things to encourage at home there is much to depress. Oh, if we had a Government now in power worthy of directing the heroic energy which the people everywhere show we should soon put an end to this most disgraceful of rebellions. But what can we hope for with such feebleness at Washington and such men as Halleck and McClellan to command our armies! We tried to calm our indignation on learning that the Prince de Joinville - and he probably knows - declares that the President and Cabinet never intended to do any thing more than blockade and hem in the South - a policy which common sense would have shown them could only result in an immense sacrifice of life and material to the North with no such damage to the south as would lead to submission - we tried to calm our indignation, I say, by turning to Old-World matters. Mr Marsh read to me from that most curious of books, Le Neveu de Rameau, by Diderot. It seems difficult to devine what the author intended by this book - whether he means it as a sketch of individual character such as was to be found in his own time, or whether there is a deeper thought under it, namely, a bitter satire on the results of the philosophical teachings of himself and his contemporaries. It certainly has very much the air of a recantation, but this is a point not likely to be settled. At any rate if this is human nature, or rather, if this is man as he was before the French Revolution, its horrors should cease to surprise us. We were alone at the table d’hîte with the exception of our travelled Englishman He was very full of amusing anecdotes - robberies by land and shipwrecks by sea, - all well told and without apparent exaggeration The His account of the accident to the Great Eastern last year was very interesting. He says that the American engineer was entitled to the credit of the contrivance by which the vessel was finally steered - that though the captain insisted that it was some little gim-crack of his own that guided her course, every man with his eyes in his head must have been satisfied that this last was not of the least use, having no effect whatever in directing the ship. This singular acquaintance grows more and more of a puzzle to me He seems not only to speak many languages fluently, but to have studied them carefully, and yet he is no scholar. He declares he never had a headache in his life, that he never had five minutes of low spirits in his life - in short that he is exempt from all the ordinary ills of mortality. He is sixty two years old, dresses with the elegance of a Brummel, never wears an overcoat, walks with the elasticity of a man of twenty-five, sleeps out doors in the rain, without the least inconvenience when a shelter is not at hand, and is fully persuaded that every man, woman and child might do just as he does if they would, and be the better for it too. Mr Gough - my maid says this is his name - told us the history of a week spent among the robbers in the Abruzzi. It seems he was told there was fine shooting there, and a friend offered to give him a letter to a priest of that region with the assurance that he would be perfectly safe if under the protection of that good man. Accordingly he went, taking with him an abundant supply of provisions, cooking utensils etc. & a valet skilled in the mysteries of the kitchen. He stayed at the house of the priest who became his guest, the shooting proved very fine, the robbers very courteous, and when host and guest parted the tender-hearted priest fell on the neck of his friend, and with tears, expressed his gratitude to him, but more especially to his valet from whom he said he had learned more than he had ever learned in his life before - “cioù,” he added by way of explanation, “cioù delle cose utile.”

A severe sick headache which woke me before daylight kept me very miserable through the day. I loose [lose] so many days in bed, or what is the same thing, that I wonder the loss does not cease to grieve me, still I find it does not. Carrie and Giachino went out for a row, for though the weather looked dark we hardly expected rain. But the rain came in less than an hour after they went out, and they didn’t come. We felt no anxiety for the first two hours, but after that, the rain continuing to fall very heavily, we remembered that they went with only a single boatman, and though the lake was as smooth as glass and an accident seemed impossible, still it seemed equally impossible to account for their non-appearance except from accident. We should have sent for them, but had not the least idea in what direction to send. No one in the house had seen them leave. Mr Marsh walked the balcony, glass in hand, for more than an hour - it began to grow dark and our state of mind was not enviable when Mademoiselle made her appearance followed by the maid. The explanation was: they went on shore at Como for some silk, while they were under the arcades it began to rain, they didn’t like to get wet, so walked about under the arcades and ate bonbons till the ’bus came and brought them home without damage. I was obliged to accept the excuse as sufficient, but really should myself have preferred the wetting to the fright. Mr Marsh and Carrie had no companion at the table d’hîte except Signor Ponte of Milan. This young man has travelled extensively but nothing that he has seen seems to have impressed him so much as English domestic life. He says it is with shame that he contrasts it with that of his own country, and he told Mr Marsh, as he said, with deep mortification, that the intimate of the family formerly known as Cicesbeo was scarcely less common in Milan today than it was fifty years ago

Kept indoors all day by bad weather.

Still dark and disagreeable in the morning, but towards evening the weather improved so much that we ventured down to Como where Mr Marsh was to pay a visit to the Prefet.

We set off about ten for a climb up Monte Bisbino, although the sky was not altogether promising. The temperature was soft as June and for the first hour it was really too warm for walking with comfort. My poor brute of a donkey which had set off with pretty good heart lost his courage after before he had performed a third of his task, and it was only by the most energetic efforts of father and son - the latter pulling lustily at the halter, and the former kicking violently from behind - that the unhappy creature could be induced to proceed. As it was the motion was dreadfully spasmodic and not at all fitted for a delicate spine. Alexander, fortunately had insisted upon getting the half-starved beast some grain before we started, though the owner had prophecied that he would not eat it as it had never been offered it before. But he wasn’t so big a donkey as his master took him for - he ate the grain with the utmost greediness - luckily for me I am sure, for without this unusual stimulant I should never have seen the top of Monte Bisbino. We did get up at last, and safely too, and well were we repaid for the labour it had cost us. There stood Monte Rosa with all her eight spitzen, a most magnificent mountain-mass, and beside her the Matterhorn, and beyong the Michable-hörner, then the Jungfrau, the Weisshorn, the Finster-aar-horn, & &c. Most of these mountains we had seen under more favorable circumstances before, but we have seldom had a grander view of Monte Rosa. Glorious as the mountains were, however, beautiful as were the lakes at our feet, - Como, Maggiore, Varese, etc. - we could not help turning from these to gaze on the wonderful cloud-phenomena which presented themselves around and below us. We stood in bright sunlight about four thousand feet above Como, and while below us rolled an ever-shifting sea of cumulous clouds, now entirely cutting off the lakes and the plains and the cities, now opening in wide gulfs down which the rays of the noon-day sun dropped in dazzling splendour, now sailing off with majestic motion to the very verge of the horizon, where they formed a new and loftier mountain-chain, leaving the prospect below us quite unobscured - then fresh exhalations rose as it were in a moment, at first only a soft grey mist, then growing brighter as they grew dense till our eyes could no longer bear to look upon their sun-like glory. For two or three hours we watched, now the mighty chain of the Alps based on their everlasting foundations, and now the ever-shifting clouds that sometimes seemed a phantom-ocean heaving and surging below us, sometimes pillars of fire rising to a height that dwarfed the loftiest summit of the true mountains. At last we were warned to descend if we would reach the villa before dark. It was hard to turn away, knowing that from that point there would soon a sunset view of extraordinary character, but we had no choice. Half an hour after sunset we were safe in our Hotel, though I found myself dreadfully shaken by my palfrey. The boy goaded or kicked the poor animal almost incessantly and my remonstrances produced little effect. At last I said, “why do you kick and beat the donkey so? I have already told you many times that I did not wish to go so fast, that it hurts me when you make him start so violently.” “O Signora” said the father, bisogna farlo, bisogna farlo per farghi [farsi] coraggio”! - and it was only by showing myself angry that I put a stop to the thumping.

We took the steamer at one P. M. for Cadanabbia, went to see the Sommariva villa - now Villa Carlotto and then crossed over to Bellagio. The grounds about this Villa are not extensive but in excellent order and the magnolias the laurels, the cypresses, are superb. The glory of the Villa, however, is the famous frieze by Thorvaldsen - the triumph of Alexander. It is a grand work and more than answers the expectation excited by drawings. Here are also some of Canovas best works. This Villa was sold after the death of Count Sommariva for a smaller sum than he had paid for the magnificent works of art it contains. It was a bright Autumn sunset as we were crossing over to Bellagio, and we were quite enchanted with the beauty of the lake in this neighborhood.

We had scarcely left the dinner-table last night when we were startled by a very ominous sound below the windows of our salon. “We’re in for it,” said Mr Marsh with a groan that could not be called a suppressed one. Sure enough, there they were the whole Bellagio band twenty seven stalwart men, not to name three small boys whose shrill pipes were not inaudible in the melody. And they were in their grandest uniform, befeathered and besilvered in the most extravagant way, and all to do honour to Sua Eccellenza il Ministro. What was to be done! We hesitated for a half hour, faintly hoping they might retire. Not they! We went out upon the balcony, bowed our thanks, had the Garibaldi hymn the second time, sent them fifty francs, and hoped this with the abundance of wine they were drinking would silence the, But it didn’t. They persevered heroically, and at last the leader and his first Lieutenant came up and were introduced and made their complimenti, etc to the great discomfiture of Mr Marsh who has an instinctive horror of all such glorifications. Our host, by the way, justified himself for getting up the performance by saying that they had done as much for the French Minister and less should not be done for the American. We learned afterwards that immediately after our arrival a man was sent through the village with a huge brass-drum to call together the musicians, and they must have hustled on their uniforms with a despatch worthy of a New York fireman. We were disappointed this morning to find the lake rough and foaming and the sky threatening rain, after such a lovely sunset. We started however, for the Villa Serbalone, or rather for the grounds of the Villa which occupy all the heights of the point of Bellagio. We were not less than an hour and a half in winding up the zig-zag paths, and under the long grottoes, & through the beautiful avenues to the top of the hill. Nothing can be imagined more picturesquely beautiful than the views obtained at various points from these grounds. The main body of the lake, the two arms of Como and Lecco, the mountains, here covered with snow, there glowing in autumn colors, the irregular shores, the numerous villages, the countless villas - one must see to believe in anything so beautiful. Descending from these grounds we went into the Villa Franzini, a very expensive building not yet finished, but extremely showy, with rooms numerous and grand enough for a court. The person who showed us through the villa said that la Signora - the wife of the owner - had taken a prejudice against the place and was determined not to live in it on any consideration, than in consequence il Signore had resolved to see it - a million of francs being the price. It is a beautiful villa certainly, finely situated and very grand at first view, but closer inspection shows a good many of the marble columns to be only very excellent stucco, and the rich woods used for the pannelling are after all but very skillfully painted imitations. There are however some very superb pictures here that any one would be proud to possess. A Leonardo da Vinci, or a copy too good for me to distinguish from an original - a most exquisite portrait by Titian - and half a dozen others by distinguished authors and of great merit. Leaving the Villa we took a boat, and though it was raining a little, went around the point and down the Lecco arm of the lake a mile perhaps below the villa Giulia which belong to the King of Belgium. The weather was so threatening that we were obliged to turn back here, and content ourselves with having seen so much of this most fairy like scenery. At three we took the steamer for Villa d’Este being dismissed by our enterprising host with a salute that waked many a wonderful echo among the wild hills. The hotel is certainly one of the most comfortable that can be imagined, and reasonable too, which is saying a good deal for European hotels now-a-days.

We arrived here last night, the rain having goodnaturedly stopped long enough for us to pass from the steamer to the villa in a small boat, slept, and were off this morning between 9 and 10 for Milan - weather still bad - which we reached at 1, P.M., installed ourselves with old papa Bruschetti and got off to the Cathedral as soon as possible. Here we had a glorious two hours, and having tired ourselves out with better things we took Carrie into the treasury, and afterwards down into the Chapel of San Carlo to see his mummy and the boundless wealth lavished upon it. Poor man! if he could speak he would tell them better. From the Cathedral we drove around the ramparts and out to the Arch erected by Napoleon to commemorate the completion of the Simplon. We were glad to see that the lying inscription of the emperor of Austria had been erased from the beautiful Arch. It was quite dark before we could make up our minds to go back to our hotel.

We set out for Turin in a pouring rain at one o’clock having spent the morning delightfully at the Brera, brushing up fading memories of former pleasant visits here. We reached Turin after dark, and the confusion and crowd at the Station were worthy of New York - bating the impudence of the Irish there. Our old rooms at the Grande Britagne were ready for us, and we should have felt very comfortable but for the thought of the case chaos where our traps are stored, and the direful necessity of plunging into it.

Friends begin to run in notwithstanding the rain. Giachino and Carrie went down to the Legation to explore boxes. Mr Clay tells me a second brother of his has turned traitor. Truly it seems if there were not Lots enough left to save our Sodom. The Tottenhams give an amusing account of the intrigues going on around poor Garibaldi - quarrels of doctors, quarrels of nurses, quarrels among visitors. Poor Mrs Stanley it seems has come to an open rupture with her dear ten thousand fashionable friends here, on the subject of the hero at Spezzia. Last winter the codini were not bold enough to quarrel with her for her undisguised admiration of this man of his age, but now things look brighter for the reactionists, the benighted Aristocracy holds up its head again, and Mrs Stanley has been taunted with her romantic friendship till the proud spirit of the English-woman has been thoroughly roused, and she declares she will have no more to do with them. Mr Marsh found here a copy of the recall of the Austrian consul Canisius who undertook to re-enact, in a less justifiable manner, the performance of one Quiggle, and Cordee, his wife.,

I went to Church this morning - I am ashamed to say for the first time in Turin. Some chairs have been brought into the little room where the English Church assembles and it will now be possible for me to go frequently, I hope. Mr Clay and Mr Artoni dined with us.

Mr Marsh came home from an attempt to extract some of his books from the dark deep in which they are buried, quite hopeless, and almost ill at having no prospect of anything like a home this winter.

We were delighted by the appearance of Mr Botta this morning fresh from New York via Paris. He looks so well, and seems in very good spirits. I hope he may do something towards advancing public opinion here a little in the right direction. We secured him at dinner and had plenty to talk about. The proprietor of the improved piano with attachment, gave us a musical treat this afternoon. The young Neapolitan performer really did miracles, and when he played the Garibaldi hymn he really verily seemed inspired. The de Bunsens encourage us in the Pegli project. They think Turin will be well nigh intolerable this winter for anybody obliged to take part in its so-called gaieties.

The Blatchfords arrived this morning on their way to Rome. Mrs Blatchford I rank among the first of my country-women, and if we must have a Ministress of Rome I rejoice that we have one with brains enough to save her from the danger of being be-blarnied by the priests of that unhappy city. Still even she may be caught, for the charmer charms wisely - or at least cunningly. A visit from the young Kossuths reminded me of our experience for the last two nights. Unearthly sounds, very, had proceeded from the room next to us through all the early part of Monday night. On enquiry we found the occupant was a certain prince who claims to be the true heir to the crown of Hungary. Mr Marsh says he intends to ask Mr Pulszky about him, and to enquire of him if he has been here to knock head to King Arpad - also he proposed to enquire for Queen Libusse. Last night being roused from my first sleep by a repetition of the awful sounds of the night before I said: ‘That must be a genuine king, he is not of our race.’ “Yes, yes,” answered Mr Marsh, “he is a real ’un, that’s certain. He must be man by day and horse by night! Now I understand where Swift got his name of Hounyhms - it comes from Hun -. Now I understand too, what Lamb means by a horse-belching fellow.” Mr Botta and Dr Demarquis Demarchi made us a visit, then came Mrs Solvyns, from whom I learned rather an amusing piece of poetical justice. The Countess Ghirardi who in a most un-lady-like way broke her engagement with us about her house in the expectation that we would accede to her demand for increased rent, allowed the princess de Saulmses [Solms] to take possession after we left on promise of paying 2000 frs. for fifty days. The fifty days having expired Mme. la princesse refuses to pay, and what is worse, refuses to vacate. The house, Mrs S. says, is in the most complete disorder, and the Countess Ghirardi is desperate. Is it wicked, I wonder, to rejoice over such misfortunes?

At five 5.40 P.M. we were steaming by rail towards Genoa, but we did not arrive there till 10.30, an hour later than we had expected. Our rooms at the Hîtel de l’Italie are very pleasant. A charming terrace on which our windows open would give a fine view of the sea were it not for the line of arcades extending the length of the street, and directly in front of the terrace. The air is soft and balmy as the poets’ May, and as I sit before the windows thrown wide open the butterflies are hovering gaily round the flowering shrubs that give no indication of approaching winter. Mr and Mrs Valerio came in about eleven and Madame stayed a couple of hours after her husband left. She complains bitterly of loneliness and does not give one a very favourable idea of Genoese society generally. She pleases me upon the whole very much though I fancy there is more of the impulsiveness of the artist than the self-control of the philosopher about her. She is not more sanguine as to home-prospects than we are. Our little friend Consul Wheeler dropped in just as we were sitting down to dinner, and accepted our invitation to be Carrie’s vis-à-vis during that ceremony. He seems quite happy, and I think is very grateful to us for not letting him run home last winter in a fit of home-sickness. We were broken up by the announcement of the carriage to take us to Pegli. It was about five when we set out - a magnificent sunset was going on - one of those marvelous exhibitions of crimson sky, dark clouds with golden hems and linings of flame waving out among the trailing folds - such as one seldom sees except by the sea-side with mountains not far off. While Mr Marsh and I were lost in admiration of the western sky Carrie, whose face was turned to the east, uttered an exclamation. We looked back. There stood the full moon, just above the promontory on which the light-house stands, two black bars of cloud across its silver face, and a half halo of the fleeciest clouds that looked like sea-foam arched above it. The sea was so still that we saw no motion on its surface, and heard no dash against the shore. Our road took us sometimes into a little open tract, sometimes through suberbs of the city as closely built as the city itself., Sometimes we crossed the railroad, sometimes we passed under it, sometimes we drove beside it for a mile, and two or three times the fiery hissing demon of a locomotive with its interminable train went thundering by us, or over us, and contrasted most strangely with the exquisite quiet of sky and sea and mountain. Soon after six we were looking from the windows of what will probably be our home for the next three months. There was a slight swell just audible and the surface of the water was just broken enough to give a little of that moonlight sparkle which always makes the deep less awful. Our first impressions of the house are pleasant.

The sunrise this morning - I am ashamed to say I did not see it - Mr Marsh says was gorgeous beyond description. We are vexed to find a huge great shabby palace diagonally across the way from us which cuts off quite a slice of our prospect eastward. Husband threatens to order it to be pulled down and put in the bill. On the west, too, we are somewhat cut off, and do not see as much of the Riviera as I hoped. Still the view is very grand and beautiful, and I went to sleep last night to the soft delicious music of the surf with a feeling of peace quite indescribable. This morning it is perfect summer. We have our windows all open, and the ladies who pass us through the corridor are in lawns. This afternoon we went to the Pallavicini gardens, the chief wonder of the neighborhood. They are very beautiful certainly. For the most part they occupy a hill of considerable extent and elevation, luxuriantly planted, and provided with walks, seats, rustic cabins, thatched sheds, marble temples, arches, imitations of old castles, Turkish kiosks, specimens of Greek, Egyptian, Chinese and Persian architecture, water falls, precipices, bridges - in short everything that wealth and fancy can contrive. Perhaps the most remarkable thing to be seen here is an artificial grotto of great extent. The stalactites and stalagmites of which it is almost entirely composed were brought from Sicily and other still more remote coasts. They are put together very skillfully & nature of already helping to perfect this fraud upon herself, for she is forming new genuine stalactites everywhere, hanging them down from the roof & building up the little stalagmites below them. Through several of the galleries of this grotto one must pass in a boat, and the custode wished us a buon viaggio with well assumed gravity, as we were rowed off into the river, down which we were lighted by small torches, not to degrade them with the name of rush-lights. We came out at last upon quite a little lake with a temple of Diana in the center, which contained a fine statue of the godess herself. Four sea-gods also in fine white marble rose above the water, some blowing in shells, others holding them, etc. We were told that if we would wait a little these sea-deities would play off certain antics for us - such as dashing water at each other, and at us, too, perhaps, but we were obliged to hurry on. We passed down through avenues of orange trees, literally loaded with the fruit just beginning to turn yellow. And [illegible] beyond this avenue, and nearer the village was another of young ilex. We were puzzled to know why the trunks of these young trees were carefully wound from the roots to the branches with a thick rope. Mr Marsh asked the custode, and was told that these trees had been planted only a year or two, and that to prevent the sun from drying them up, this rope was kept constantly wet, through the summer months. In this way there was no danger that the tree would die. At the table d’hîte we found a very pleasant English family, from whom we were happy to learn that a good Italian teacher was to be had here.

I was richly compensated for being obliged to keep my bed today, by the most magnificent sunset I remember ever to have seen. It would be worse then idle to attempt to describe it. A flame-like bank of red rested on the sea and the promontory to the west, and above it stretched several long slender bars of cloud of inky blackness. This red was shaded off, almost imperceptible passing from one colour to another, till all was terminated in a rich golden green that extended almost to the zenith. The sea itself looked almost black on its horizon - then came the rich wine-colour which the old Greeks speak of but the force of which epithet I never felt before. The rest were at dinner and missed the glorious sight.

We were expecting the Wheelers from Genoa all day, but they did not come, and we had a quiet day all to ourselves. The weather is still as fine as possible. Last night we heard the sound of chanting in the principal passage, and the little bell which told the presence of the host. We were a good deal surprised, for though we knew that the son of Don Luigi Gonzaga was ill in the house yet, as he was at the table d’hîte only two or three days ago we had no idea of his being so llow This morning I learned that the poor young man died at two. His father, who for some time pasted has been spending his days with his dying wife at Genoa, and his nights with his son here, returned at six last evening having closed the mother’s eyes at four, to close those of her child so few hours after. Both mother and son died of consumption. An older brother went in the same way a few months ago, and the half-dozen children remaining are said to be threatened with the same dreadful malady. They are from Milan or its vicinity where the climate in winter is scarcely better than in our own North.

We tried to begin work in earnest today though I was still confined to my bed. A card from the Duchesse de la Force asking when she could see me proves that even in Pegli one is not out of the world. Mr Marsh did his first day’s work on his new book - twelve pages.

We had no interruptions today, and managed to get on a little in laying out plans of study particularly for Carrie. I was able to go down to dinner which I was glad of as we have made friends with a nice English family - Mr & Mrs Tebbs and daughter - who are always at the table. Yesterday the Rev. Mr. Strettle Strettell and wife, from Genoa - (he is the English clergyman there) - dined here, and Mr Marsh liked them very much. I missed them from not being able to go down.

Mr Marsh lost a part of his morning from interrup interruptions. A bright-eyed lively little carpenter brought home a bookcase which had been ordered the other day, and a capital peice [piece] of work it was. The poor fellow was very proud of his handy-craft and well might be. The inhabitants of Pegli are most industrious, and the only case of beggary we have seen here was - a single instance - a poor blind boy. The fishermen do out in the night when the sea is so rough that it makes one tremble to look after them. The sound of the carpenters hammer often wakes us before four in the morning. Just on the short before our windows there is a busy scene. The fishermen are mending and spreading out their nets, the ship-carpenters are repairing old smacks and making new ones, and the little children too young for school, or just let out for play, are frolicking on the beach and allowing the surf to break over them with shouts of delight. Mr Marsh and Carrie have had and opportunity to watch the process of fishing, to see them pull out the fish entangled in the nets, sometimes taking the head of the fish in their mouths while they used both hand to extricate it from the net. The larger ones they spear. Last night we saw the boats going out just after a violent thunderstorm in a very high sea. This morning we learned that a man lying in an unfinished boat at Sestri was killed by the lightning, an a companion by his side so injured as not to be expected to recover. The boat was shattered to splinters, and the iron bolts used in its frame-work were melted like wax. The storm was very violent though short, and there was no interval between the blinding flash and the crashing peal. This evening Signor Fessali Campazzi, - one of Garibaldi’s ex-priests, but without ex-nun attached - came in to make arrangement for giving Carrie lessons. He is intelligent and earnest and we consider him a decided catch in Pegli where we hardly looked for a master. The Tebbses came in later, and we had quite a lively little party. Mrs Tebbs had been much amused by some Italian ladies who passed some weeks here. They were without their husbands as Italian ladies generally are, and after observing for several days that Mr & Mrs Tebbs sat down to the table regularly together, walked together, went out in the boat together etc. they said very naïvely: “Do you always stay with your husband?” Mrs Tebbs replied that she had been married thirty two years, and that of course during that long period separations had sometimes been unavoidable, but they had been rare, and were always very painful both to herself and husband when they became a necessity. The Marchese received this statement with an astonishment that would have been overwhelming had it not been relieved by a little scepticism as to its truth.

The weather continues dark and windy with occasional showers, but the thermometer does not go below 66 Fahr., though the distant mountain tops on our right are thickly sprinkled with snow which is also said to have fallen in the plain about Alessandria. The sea is an unfailing source of interest to us, not less in these days of cloud and wind than it is in calm sunshine. The lights and shadows, the camelian [chameleon]-like colours are infinite, and perpetually changing. Sometimes a change in the wind drives the waters out of the bay, seeming to scoop out deep basins, or piling up long ridges till the whole surface of the sea looks like a rolling prairie. We watched the fading light this evening almost till we could see no longer, and every instant there was a change to wake fresh interest. It seems to me one could never feel lonely by the sea-side. Our table companions told us at dinner many nice little anecdotes of persons whom we know by reputation, and they personally - such as Miss Marsh &c -

The day did not tempt any of us out though the rain seems to be over, and we worked busily all day. In the evening Signor Campazzi came to give Carrie a lesson, and stayed with us till ten. He is a good talker and promises well as a teacher. He excited Mr Marsh’s curiosity a good deal about the mountain which is now sliding down from time to time a little beyond Voltri. Today the frana, or slide, has cut off the road for the second time within a month. We shall drive out to look at it soon - Mr Tebbs, who came in alone for a few minutes, brought some most exquisite painting, of flowers done from nature by Mrs Tebbs. I have never seen any thing of the kind more perfect both in drawing and colour, and what surprised us most is that Mrs Tebbs had not painted a flower for more than thirty years until this summer -

Mr Marsh went back to Turin this morning and Carrie and I worked hard at Italian the rest of the day. The weather was charming, but the sunset less splendid than usual here.

I sent Carrie to church, Mr & Mrs Tebbs having kindly offered to take her with them to Genoa., and I had five hours quite alone by myself, which I enjoyed with that keen relish which we sometimes have for entire solitude. After her return she read to me Robertson’s sermon - The Irreparable Past. - a sermon I knew well before, but which, like all his sermons, always suggests some fresh vein of thought. Just as we went down to dinner the sound of a band announced the approach of a procession which we had been told was to come off today in honor of San Martino, who, it seems, has particular affection for Pegli. I was not disposed to rise from the dinner-table to look at the show, having found these processions generally as like to each other ‘as my fingers is to my fingers,’ but was glad afterwards that I was persuaded to do so. There was an immense crowd in the street as far as we could see towards the village of Pegli and towards Voltri. They opened for the procession which was headed from by a band from Genoa. Immediately after came San Martino in the person of the son of Michel the innkeeper, - riding a white horse and carrying a very terrible looking sword which he lifted from time to time as he harangued the gaping crowd. Then followed banners and a great company of fishermen with white cloth folded about the head, white drapery thrown entirely over them, to which was added a rich cape of crimson velvet embroidered with gold, or what was to look like it. Then came the car containing the image of San Martino also on horseback and sword in hand while a huge angel winged and gilded, seemed floating just behind and above him, and half a dozen cherubs or more were grouped around the saintly warrior. The wind was too strong for the wax lights to burn well, but the crowd were delighted with with the show, and evidently very proud to have strangers witness it. The car was followed by another long line of fishermen dressed as before, and interspersed with huge crosses and crucifixes, & lanterns carried on poles wreathed with flowers, &c&c. It was said, I do not know with what truth, that there was not a priest in the procession, and a poor French maid who is staying here, and who went without her dinner in order to get to the church in time for the benediction returned greatly disappointed having missed the blessing she expected because there was no priest there to bestow it. I fancy there must be some mistake about this, as it would be a strange thing if there were actually a dearth of priests on such an occasion. The good people here tell us that this festa used to be celebrated every year, but it was so expensive that it was finally settled to have it only once in twenty five years which is now the rule. As I watched the bearers of the crosses and the crucifixes staggering under their load, and was expressing my pity for them, a resident said to me: “Every one of those men pays several francs for the privilege of bearing that burden.” The whole procession stopped a long time before the windows of the Duchess de la Force, the band playing all the while in compliment to her for having contributed 40 frs. to the festa. She sent them wine etc. and when they went back from the Church they repeated the flattering attention. In fact her ladyship was scarcely less the hero of the occasion than San Martino himself. As I sat down again to the dinner-table I could not help contrasting this poor attempt to make a gorgeous display with the glory of the sunset which I had been watching with awe a half hour before. After dinner Mr Tebbs sent in to me a very interesting letter from Father Felix - alias Rev. Mr Varnier, who has been for eight years a missionary of the Church of England in India. He wishes most earnestly to be permitted by the Society to come to Italy and devote himself to enlightening the priests and the laity of his native country. I hope they will be wise enough to accede to his request. Whatever is done for the Italians in the way of giving them religious truth will be best done by Italians themselves.

One of the most delightful Autumn days conceivable. The thermometer stood all day at nearly 70 in our drawing room without fire and with the sun half excluded on account of the overpowering light. Books and battledore filled up the day for us, Giachino performing my part at the latter - Signor Compazzi gave Carrie a two hours and a half lesson which he enlivened with many a benissimo, and when she left the room he told me confidentially that the Signorina had a memoria di ferro. The good man retains much of the sing-song of the priestly chant, and I could hardly keep my countenance when he read portions of the lesson in that way.

Mr Marsh returned soon after three P.M. but, before I had time to really welcome him, the Duchess de la Force came in, and did not leave me for an hour. She looked much better in her hat & morning-dress, than when I saw her last winter in full dress at a ball. The impression she made on me was, that she is a very [illegible] amiable, vain woman, fond of fashion, most ready to serve others even the humblest, devoted to gaiety and yet happy alone - a combination not reconcilable with an over-strong head. On the whole I liked her much better than I expected & I dare say we shall get on well as neighbors. Great allowance ought to be made for a woman married before she was sixteen, left a widow with 2 sons before she was nineteen, afterwards married to a French Duke with whom she lived 15 years in Paris, & was then left again a widow with an immense fortune which she must spend somehow - she thinks. Mr Marsh saw many persons in Turin, and on the whole has the impression that the Ministry will be overthrown, though great efforts will be made to save it. He was much pleased be a very graceful act on the part of the government towards the United States. They request that the unlucky consul at Vienna who wrote such an improper note to Garibaldi, and whom Mr Seward recalled at once, should be restored to his place. They say it was no doubt a thoughtless act not intended to give offense to, or to injure, the kingdom of Italy, and therefore would be gratified to have the President overlook it. There seems as little chance as ever of getting a house in Turin. Everything is filled up, and the crush will be greater as the season advances. The weather was very cold there Mr Marsh finding a fire necessary throughout the whole day.

Mr Marsh saw both Kossuth and Pulszky. The former full of theories as ever, very interesting, but not very likely to realize any of his own projects; the latter cheerful and unconcerned, laughing at his late arrest, receiving indirect apologies from the Ministry, and equally indifferent to their favour or disfavour. Kossuth seems to have recovered himself somewhat from his affliction for the loss of his daughter, and from the anxiety he has suffered on account of his wife who has lately undergone a severe surgical operation from which she is getting up again -

Here, on the contrary, we have the thermometer from 66 to 72. and a glorious sun instead of the torrents of rain now falling in Piedmont and Lombardy - It begins to look as if last winter was indeed an exceptional season as we were so often told. Poor Mrs Stanley came to see Mr Marsh and poured out her grievances at the hands of the Turinese codini, and a good many other curious gossipings about Garibaldi. She thinks there are regular spies about him - one in the person of a woman who has ingraciated herself into the good will of Vecchi, and who in this way gets constant access to the General, gets him to sign papers under a false impression as to their contents, betrays every thing she hears and in fact is very mischievous. Mrs Stanley is herself half inclined to go to Pisa and make an effort to oust this dame, but I hope she will not. There are already elements of discord en enough about the great invalid and it would take a steadier head and a juster insight than our friend in Turin possesses, to mend matters. The de Limas are recalled, for which personally we are very sorry. They are amiable warm-hearted people, very agreeable socially, but their political sentiments are so very reactionary that they are looked upon with a suspicion by all friends of progress, and it is even hinted that they have been recalled at the suggestion of the Italian government, though I greatly doubt if this has any foundation. Our friend Botta met with a much more cordial reception from his old acquaintances than we anticipated for him, or he for himself. He has a scheme for getting up a liberal university at Florence, and has already recve received much encouragement from very influential quarters. A priest of high position has furnished him with a list of the liberals in his own profession, who would be glad to be useful to him, and on this list is the name of one of the leading Franciscans of Piedmont and three of his brethren. The stir among the Italian clergy is certainly extraordinary, and Father Passaglia’s ten thousand signatures may ultimately prove as important a step on the road to Rome as the Emperor’s late conduct has seemed a discouragement.

Captain Thatcher came in to Genoa yesterday with the Constellation, and he will probably pass most of the winter there. Mr Marsh was interrupted this morning by a visit from Agresti the Sicilian who claims redress, as an American citizen, for having been arrested during the late troubles, and released only on condition of leaving the island. I had heard nothing of his case; and as Mr Marsh treated him with some impatience, and he himself never for a moment forgot to be perfectly respectful and retained his self-possession to admiration, I could not help feeling a good deal of sympathy for him. His quiet and deferential manner forced Mr Marsh to soften his refusal to interfere by saying that he would send a statement of his case to the State Department for instructions. After he left I said I could not help being sorry for the poor fellow. Mr Marsh smiled: ‘My dear child, he is a most notorious scoundrel. He fled to America because he had committed a murder in Sicily, stayed there long enough to be naturalized, has now returned and expects impunity for all fresh rascalities on the ground that he is an American citizen.’ Then I smiled too, and said: ‘Well, he disarmed you by his self control and his civility.’ - ‘Yes, I could not treat the fellow as he deserved when he was behaving so much like a gentleman - besides he fought bravely in the Mexican war, and I have no wish to deprive him of the right of citizenship, though if he were twice an American the Italian government would be justified in punishing him for offenses against itself.’ Carrie took a long walk with the Tebbses and Signor Campazzi, but tempting as was the soft beautiful sunshine I could not get Mr Marsh out. The Italian lesson went off nicely in the evening.

A day so like yesterday within and without as hardly to admit a distinction. The intervals of rest from work were filled up with lamentations over the late Democratic victories at home, the death of Gen. Mitchell and all the other discouraging facts that come to us from America. The “general contempt” shown for the President by these elections is certainly justified by the history of the last two years - , but I wish it could have been shown in some other way. The Strettells made us a visit this morning - then the walkers walked. We dined, and the Tebbses - good saints that they are - spent a part of the evening with us. -

This morning my maid told me that while we were all in Turin at the Grande Bretagne about the 1st of November two English ladies with an English maid were there at the same time. The maid was very friendly to her, (Giachino) and one day asked her if Alexander was not a courier, and if he would not be willing to go with her ladies to Naples - they were very anxious to go by land to without passing through Rome. Alexander declined going of course, but directed them as well as he could by way of Ancona. It turns out that these ladies were Mrs Bishop the unhappy mother of the young man lately so justly condemned in Naples to ten years imprisonment, and Mrs Cramp, a friend of hers. Mrs Bishop was very desirous of getting an audience of with the King, but, as everybody knew the king would immediately pardon the young man who had already been treated with far too great leniency, it was managed to prevent it. I am sorry for the poor father and mother, but so atrocious a case as a young Englishman’s carrying comfort and supplies to a gang of brigands, and having still broader schemes with him for overturning the government ought not to be passed over without punishment. It is said the answer Mrs Bishop received was that the King would pardon her son as soon as he was seated in his capital, Rome. Whether this was from the King or one of the ministry is disputed. We are still in doubt as to the fate of the Rattazzi g Cabinet, but it is generally thought it will go down.

We expected Mrs Valerio all day, but the evening brought a note to say she could not come till Wednesday. The thermometer has fallen to 64, but Miss Tebbs brought us in from her walk several bits of myrtle shrub with charming buds and flowers, looking very summer-like. Mr Marsh worked as usual at his book, then took a long walk, Carrie and I drudged away at Italian by way of preparing for Signor Campazzi, after which she tried a solo at battledoor. We were very dull in the evening - I fancy in consequence of a dreadfully dull lesson fron from our Professore who staid so late last evening that I quite lost my patience. I

Carrie was to have gone to church with Mr & Mrs Tebbs but had headache, so we all stayed at home together, read an hour or two in Monod’s “Adieux - etc.”, then a little in old Wicliffe, and then watched the great waves as they rolled up and broke upon the beach. The clouds in the morning were very magnificent. Huge masses of cumuli such as one rarely sees at that hour, were gorgeously lighted up by the morning sun, and the sea, too, was singularly variegated in colour. What an endless source of enjoyable beauty the sea offers when seen from the shore. It is company, too, when one is lonely - it [?] is soothing when one is disturbed - it is elevating when one is in danger of becoming trivial - it is inspiring when one feels dull, and cold, and indifferent. - Just before going to dinner the telegram was brought in that the ball, discovered to be in the wound by NĂ©laton’s ingenious invention of the porcelain probe roughened on one side, had been extracted today from Garibaldi’s ankle by Zanetti, the operation occupying only one minute. How we rejoice at this news! If the [illegible] rumored removal of McClellan turns out to be true the two pieces of good news will be quite enough to get up a special Thanksgiving-day for.

The sea, which last evening began to shew some signs of perturbalion, discoursed grand music all night. At early day-light we heard anxious voices on the beach, and on going to our window, we saw a number of men and one woman working away with desperate energy at a pile of brick which the angry surf was fast undermining. We had watched the wearisome unloading of this brick from a sloop yesterday. There being nothing like a wharf here, a long board was placed, one end on the shipsside, the other in the water, - on the lower end of this, and at [illegible] a right-angle to it, was placed another board which reached quite to the shore. One man piled the brick into a basket which he handed to a second standing at the ship’s side, the second passed it to a third standing on the first board, the third to a fourth at the angle where the two boards met, the fourth to a fifth who piled up the contents quite high on the beach. Hour after hour they toiled on in this way, and the result of their labour was three huge heaps of brick at different levels, but all apparently quite out of the reach of the water. This proved to be a mistake, - the lowest heap was now in great danger of being swept away, and our sympathy for the poor creatures who were trying to save it diminished the pleasure we should otherwise have felt from the scene before us. Wave after wave was rolling in with great volume and velocity, sharpening in form as they approached the shore, till their crests, thinned out to a transparent green, broke off partly in clouds of spray, partly in sheets of leaping, curling foam that was climbing higher and higher up the beach. Sometimes the long billows followed each other so close that they seemed to rise one above another like the seats of a gigantic amphitheatre, then, all at once, they would break as it were together, spreading out a sea of foam that boiled far up the beach, and played around the knees of the poor brick-savers, snatching the bricks from under their very hands. We watched the work with lively interest for a long time, and when called to breakfast, had the satisfaction of seeing nearly all the lower heap safe, and no probability of any danger to the two others, the lowest of which, even, we thought there would be no occasion to remove. Before we rose from the table, however, the roar of the surf seemed to redouble, the shouts of the fishermen increased, and on going to the window, we were not a little astonished to see the second pile of brick over-washed by every great wave, while as many as could get round it were boldly disputing the prey with the sea. Of the contending parties it was hard to believe the one was not as conscious as the other. Now a huge billow would come up directly abreast and topple off several layers from the heap, the next would curl round and make a channel for itself, so quite surrounding it, a third would carry away a portion of earth from beneath it, and so tumble hundreds of the brick into the sea, to be picked up again, if possible, by some bold, strong boy, who watched for a moment of partial respite and then dashed into the surf. At last a master-wave came booming on, rolled in full volume over the pile, snatched the full baskets from the hands of the carriers, swallowed up their contents and then floated off the baskets themselves far beyond the reached of even the most daring. At first I feared some of the boys had been swept off too, but fortunately it was not so. In the mean-while another scene of activity, no less animated, was going on, Several hundred persons - men women and boys - were engaged in dragging up out of the reach of the furious surge the twenty or thirty fishing smacks that had been left last night quite out of danger as was supposed. The sea however was now foaming around them and even breaking over some of the smaller ones, and there was evidently no safety for them except in drawing them quite across the road. Some were pulling at the hawsers, some were pushing at the stern, themselves half buried in the waves, others were trying to save the oars and light spars that were every now and then snatched unexpectedly from a point that had hitherto seemed out of the reach of the enemy. A sloop of considerable size, which, on account of the threatening appearance of the weather last night, had been drawn up the beach much higher than her usual mark, was now completely surrounded every time the surf rolled in, and the most energetic efforts were making to drag her up still higher. A dozen men were at work at a capstan placed in the middle of the street, others were laying down slapers on which she might slide, others were watching eagerly to recover these timbers as one or more would be carried off by every great wave that broke against the ship, and now and then a poor fellow threw up his arms with a cry of pain when he was some precious oar or spar or paddle carried off quite beyond his reach. Our attention had been diverted from the brick by this new excitement, but was soon recalled to it by a fresh alarm. A mighty wave came thundering in, and, at a single bound, leaped over the third pile, and though it carried away none of the brick the poor labourers saw that it must be instantly removed ‘lest a worse thing should come upon it.’ Again they set to work, and with many a recruit, too. But the case seemed a desperate one, almost every wave that rolled in either surrounded or overflowed the heap, and the men could scarcely stand up against the shock of the foaming surf. We longed to go down and help them - in fact the our excitement was greater than one could imagine to be caused where there was so little at stake. Mr Marsh said he would willingly pay for the brick if the poor fellows would give up the fight - but this would not have satisfied them, they were determined to be conquerers. Two boats were now placed so as to act as a break-water, and, partially protected in this way, the men worked to more advantage, and in an hour nearly all the brick were lying safe above the road. The sloop was brought up so high as to be safe secure from thumping, and the fishing smacks were nearly all drawn across the road, and most of the men and women went home - I hope to comfort themselves with dry clothes and a breakfast. Now came the time for the younger boys, and glorious sport they had. Some little fellows of five or six sat down in the stern of the boats nearest the water, and looked out upon the roaring foaming sea with the gravity of old philosophers. I longed to know their thought. Others drew hasty lines with a stick on the beach where the water had fallen back for a moment, and after the next surge ran down to see if the mark had disappeared. Here one would plant a stout branch in the sand, calling to his fellow to bring a stone to fix it more firmly, and then watch to see if the next wave would carry it off. Sometimes they seemed to find a shell - a rarity on this coast - and this was pocketed with no small triumph. At other times the little fellows would wait, low down on the beach, to receive the shock of the in-coming surf, and I trembled with the expectation of seeing them overthrown and swept away. They however were experienced enough not to risk too much, and always beat a rapid retreat at the sight of the largest waves. I found the window so attractive that I could not leave it during the whole day. Wrapt in my shawl and pillowed up in a high chair I sat all day watching, now the great waves as they rolled up the beach just before the house, now the still longer ones at the right left hand in front of the village, now those that broke against the old castle-wall to the right, and the still wilder foaming and leaping and dancing of those that struck the rocks a little farther on in the direction of Voltri. There was another feature in the scene that gave me scarcely less pleasure than the majestic roll and roar and dash of the [illegible] sea - the exquisite and every varying colour of the its surface. Sometimes the horizon-line, - now very irregular by reason of the great troubling of the deep - was of a dark wine-colour, and within, of a more bluish purple, then a pale pure green, then a band of faintest rose. Sometimes these colours were so shaded, or rather graduated, the one into the other that the eye could not distinguish where the one began, and the other ended - at other times the line that divided them was as distinct as sudden contrast could make it The arrangement and intensity of these colours depended upon the position of the sun, the greater or less density of the clouds, and the force of the wind, and they were, of course, perpetually changing. When the increasing twilight prevented me from seeing longer, I left my window saying to myself: ‘who could ever feel lovely beside the great and living sea’!

Little change in the weather, - which kept us at the window half the day, to the great detriment of work - till towards evening. Then the wind rose and the waves came in with renewed fury. The fishermen came out now and then to see that all was snug, but the human interest of the scene was less than yesterday. By ten P.M. the roar of the sea was really terrific, and we expected to see the whole road overflowed in the morning.

Things were quieter this morning, and on looking out to see what mischief had been done in the night we were surprised to find that the sea had thrown up in its violence a high rampart of pebbles and large stones, so as completely to protect the road against its own assaults. Around the old castle and to the west of it the waves rolled up as high as ever, but just before our house they could no longer climb above the rampart of their own erection. One philosophical observation I have made during this storm. The genus puer as seen in Pegli corresponds precisely with that found in the State of Massachusetts where I was born. The proofs of this were numberless, but the one which struck me most was the performance of two or three youngsters, one of whom - ten years old perhaps - having provided himself with an old carpenter’s-hatchet watched his opportunity when he was unobserved by the ‘old folks’ to dig vigorously under the bank which the sea was already fast undermining. His companions in mischief stood on the bank above, and by energetic stamping broke off great masses of earth thus underminded. In this way they managed to hurry the work of destruction very considerably, and one poor fisherman was obliged to make another move with his boat, the little promontory of earth on which it rested being completely melted away by the help of these little rascals. - We had a grand lesson from Signor Campazzi last night - among other things learned to play Mora.

About half past six this morning Mr M__ called me saying there was a remarkable sunrise in prospect. In a moment I was wrapped, and leaning from my window, turned my face ‘right against the eastern gate.’ Were any painter able to paint paint faithfully what we saw there, he would be pronounced most false to nature. A heavy mass of the blackest looking clouds seemed so near us as to lie this side Genoa, and below this, a broad band of fiery red which we now thought water and now sky. [illegible] Mr M. said that when he first saw it he thought it was the reflection of some vessel on fire near Genoa - that such a color just there could be nothing else, but a tonger longer look showed him it was only the banner of the sun. It was still so early that the morning star was shining above the black, billowy-looking clouds with a calm br white brilliancy that contrasted wonderfully with them and the blood-red field still lower. But every moment brought a change. The star grew paler on a soft green ground, the great cloud veil was rent and showed patches of the same crimson behind it, clear white rays shot from beneath the upper edge of the black vapour like the [illegible] tail of some giant comet - the red became a saffron then gold and at last the dazzling rim of the great luminary itself flashed out, and, heaving up as it were by pulses, in a moment more the full flaming orb seemed to stand on the promontory just the other side of the queenly city. Before this consummation however, the clouds had passed through a thousand transformations of form & color and the sea exhibited phenomena no less interesting. We sat down to breakfast praising in full chorus the climate and the sunsets and sunrises of Pegli. - At one P.M. Mr M. & Alex started for Turin, leaving Carrie & me with Giachino to care for us till saturday. We could hardly do any thing but play, after they left the soft air and bright sunshine were so tempting. The evening Mr & Mrs Tebbs spent with us. They are saints - real saints, and I was almost ashamed to tell such kindly generous souls so many unpalatable things about England as I did. Still it is now no moment for an American to hesitate to speak plainly, and I cannot lose the opportunity of enlightening, as far as is in my poor power, a thoroughly honest truth loving reader of the Times as to the true character of statements he has been in the habit of accepting as the best of human gospel.

We had ten hours - between a most magnificent sunrise and an equally fine sunset - of summer temperature in our drawing room. We had only to allow the sun to come in and there was no necessity for fire. Carrie and I worked and played alternately, as wise children should, and the hours flew very fast. In the evening the Italian lesson came off. ‘The Professor’ forgot to be on his good behaviour - the Tebbses having given him a hint that English and American ladies didn’t like ‘Dio Mio,’ etc and exclaimed several times over the examples in his grammar “Che diavolo! che diavolo!” I was not so shocked, but that the exclamation and the gesticulation that accompanied it diverted me extremely.

Mr Marsh and Alex. came back from Turin at half past three, bringing a new supply of shuttle-cocks and a quantity of grissini, not to speak of weightier matters. We had read the Discussion between the Ministry and the Opposition which has been going on for some days, with great interest, and I was anxious to know if I should be borne out in my estimate of the pityable feebleness of Rattazzi’s defense of himself and collegues. I find this is the universal judgment, and everybody says the Ministry will go down unless sustained by the throne in the face of the will of the nation. Ratazzi has private business as well as public, on hand just now. He has taken the notorious Madame Saulmes [Solms] - self-styled Princess - under his protection, goes to the Casa d’Angennes twice a day to look after her, and interposes his powerful arm between her and the lawyers of the poor Countess Ghirardi, who has sued her ladyship for rent, and would fain forcibly eject her. In the meantime Alex. says the beautiful staircase which we took so much pride last winter in keeping spotless, both carpet and marble, and in ornamenting with rare plants, now looks like the entrance to a gaming-house, and the handsome court is literally turned into a stable. The Ghirardi is frantic, and I really begin to be heartily sorry for her not-withstanding all the inconvenience and real injury which her greedniness for an unreasonable rent, has caused us. To have her lose her rent would be such a beautiful piece of justice in kind, that I could not help being pleased at it, but I dont want the poor thing to have her house and furniture abused in this way. - There is a charming caricature out representing Rattazzi with Madame de Saulmes on his arm, and the pact Prati - fallen very low, alas! - trotting after them with a foot-warmer for the lady. This was got up on occasion of the late celebration at Asti in honour of Alfieri - Rattazzi had the baseness to place that woman by his side on such a national occasion. If the King stands this, I think he need not have been so much disturbed when Mr Daniel brought her uninvited to his ball. This remarkable woman, still handsome, but very deaf, and, in many respects, very vulgar in her manners, appeared the other day in the diplomatic Box in the Chambers, introduced of course by His Exc’y, the President of the Council. The Diplomats were some of them so foolish as not to be willing to have her publicly seated by the side of them and their wives. They talked the matter over, and Baron Hochschild wrote a note to Sir James Hudson requesting him as doyen to remonstrate, putting it expressly on the ground of the infamous character of the woman. This M. Solvyns thinks indiscrete - that it would have been better to have objected simply to outsiders, there being so little room, etc. I can’t agree with Mr Solvyns and think Baron Hochschild’s course honest and honourable. The result was a general order restricting the Box to the use of the Diplomats solely.

Mr and Mrs Wheeler and the Valerioes came out to dine with us, but so late that we had little time to talk over the many things to be talked about - the French intervention, the Greek election, Gen. McCelellan [McClellan], Rattazzi, etc etc. As there was no great difference of opinion however among us we summed up very amicably. Mrs Valerio is bright and intelligent, but from certain opinions expressed with regard to some eminences of her own sex in New York, I fancy she bears ‘no rival near the throne’. Mrs Wheeler was too silent for me to comment upon till I know her better. Valerio was lively and witty, Wheeler grave and witty, - the latter quality I have never detected in him before. We had a nice evening with the Tebbses after they left. We set Miss Tebbs to guess out the real name of Mr Valerio from the pet form used by his wife - Pinotto, and she was much amused when we took Giuseppe, and followed on from Beppo, Beppino, Beppinotto to Pinotto. Mr Marsh told her one might go on indefinitely from Pinotto - to Pinottino, Mottino, Tino Tinetto, Tinello etc, which brought up Washington Irving’s famous etymology of Mango from Jeremiah [illegible] King.

For this cold sunless day we have not the compensation of a headlong surf. The wind blows off shore, and though the sea is rough enough in the distance, our little bay is smooth as glass. It is a good day for work and by the help of the battledoor and shuttlecock once in an hour or two Mr Marsh and Carrie contrived to keep warm without a fire. Darkness came very early but Signor Campazzi helped us off with the long evening -

No improvement in the weather which is grim enough. All the mountains in our sight are covered with snow and the outdoor temperature even here is 47 Fahr. We had a fire made for the Tebbses this evening, as we thought 59 rather low for Mr Tebbs - We were warmed up a little ourselves by the confirmation of the report of Rattazzi’s resignation. It is doubtful whether a more liberal Ministry will follow, but we may at least hope for one less subservient to Napoleon. There seemed to be a general impression that the King might be induced to sustain Rattazzi in the face of his people by proroguing the Parliament, or some other method not less unpalatable, but Victor Emmanuel still prefers to be the Re Galant’uomo that he has ever shown himself. It is still doubtful whether Cassinis or Pasolini will either of them dare to assume the responsibility of forming a new Ministry.

A brilliant day of sunshine which brought our thermometer up to 65 again, and made us forget the sourness of the two last days. Mr Botta came out at 4, and dined here with Signor Campazzi - I was not well enough to leave my room, and a boil on my face prevented me from even seeing Mr Botta, but I hope for a longer visit from him when he returns from f Florence and Naples. Mr Botta complains that the progress in Italy is less that he had hoped, and he says that he told Rattazzi that an importation of twenty thousand yankees here would do more for them than in one year than the next ten were likely to do.

We had no sun today, and the thermometer not being quite up to 58 we concluded to try a fire. We had complained of the first basket of wood for which we paid 4 francs, as being poor both in quality and quantity, it having consisted chiefly of little bunches of brush, and the whole contents of the bashed [basket] would not have made one good Vermont fire. This time the boy came up staggering and panting under his load. The little basket was set down, the brush-wood for kindling, was piled on it afterwards, and then the fire was lighted. We then proceeded to examine what was left in the box basket. Instead of the brush as before, were a quantity of roots, half dry and as solid as iron-wood. In the meantime we gathered around the fire looking into it with painful anxiety. It was smouldering away, almost without a blaze, and absolutely without warmth. Again we had recourse to the basket - the brush would burn, the rest would not. At last I said: ‘if our Vermont friends - or indeed any other American friends, could look in upon us now their first exclamation would be - “is that all you can do on twelve thousand a year!”’ This idea seemed to rouse the pride of the Minister, who made a fresh and still more vigourous assault upon the wood-basked. In another half-hour it blazed, and rubbing his hands with satisfaction, he exclaimed - “Now that is quite a fire!” - “Up to your position, eh?” - and looking at the thermometer I found the exertions of an hour and a half hadn’t raised it a degree. “That thermometer is unfavourably placed,” was the answer, and accordingly we set it on the table, where, if the fire blazed again, it couldn’t fail to shine on it. In this way, before bedtime we got it up to 59. If it is to cost us four francs a degree all winter I think we shall have to contrive to get a special allowance for fire-wood.

Once more we have sunshine, and the able-bodied among our little household set off with Mr Campazzi for the Santuario back of Sestri. The walk proved a four hours one, and they returned only in time to dress for dinner. We find no inconvenience from the cold when we have sunshine.

The sunshine kept us warm again today. Mr Marsh worked at his book without interruption all the morning, and took a long walk towards evening going some distance beyond Voltri. My lot - as it has been nearly every day this week - was to be in bed nearly all day.

I was “struck all of a heap” as our elegant English women neighbors would say, this morning by a note from one of our Turinese fashionables, proposing to come down here, and put herself under our wing for the winter - being tired, as she says, of visits &c-. In this respect I think we know her better than she knows herself. She has had some social vexations, and she now fancies she could be happy in a retirement like this - But she would soon be miserable herself, and make us miserable by consuming our time which we came here to try to save. I I got up hoping to join the Tebbses at the dinner-table, but this unlucky letter, or something else quite knocked me up, and I was soon obliged to be put into my bed again. In the evening amends was made for the bad news of the morning by an apparently well-authenticated report that Massimo d’Azeglio was in treaty for rooms here as he wished to pass the next too two months at Pegli. If this should turn out to be true we should be delighted.

Mr Marsh set off for Turin at 4, leaving me still in bed. The Strettells dined here, also Signor Campazzi, and I was very sorry that both Mr Marsh and I should have been absent from table. Mrs Tebbs came in after dinner, partly to keep Carrie company during her lesson, and I asked her to come in and sit with me a few minutes. She is a dear good soul - osci!

There was nothing new in the routine of our life today. We were kept warm by the great bright sun, and Giachino, who has to do my play as well as my work, tossed the shuttlecock with Carrie when she was tired of study or writing -

Carrie went to Genoa with the Tebbses - all to make some purchases in a bazaar for the benifit of a foreign hospital - and they all returned together with Mr Marsh at half past three - Mr Marsh tells me the new Ministry gives general satisfaction. They are strong men, and all the kingdom is represented - Of course it is idle to talk of Rome at present, but they may make progress in other directions. Nothing else new in Turin. Our home news is unimportant, except signs of defiance in case of any impertinent interference on the part of European governments.

After a good morning’s work Mr Marsh and Carrie took a stroll in the red sunshine of the hillsides, and brought home a quantity of pretty wild-flowers, looking more like spring than winter. I went down to the dinner-table for the first time for ten days, and was glad to meet our nice English family once more. We have had many a good hearty laugh by ourselves over good Mr Tebbs’s ingenuity in bringing in an anecdote of some Bishop a propos of every thing that may happen to be the subject of conversation. Today we were speaking of the beaver story, with the drawing, in the London News, and from the beaver had passed to the otter. Mrs Tebbs inquired if the otter was found in England. “Oh, yes, yes,” replied the husband, with much vivacity, “and I can tell you how I know. Some years ago I was requested by good Bishop Otter to pay a visit of remonstrance to a very unworthy clergyman of his diocese, whose fox-hunting and profanity had made him the scandal of the country. The shameless man who had powerful family connections replied that if his lordship persisted in interfering with his fox-hunting, he should certainly take to otter hunting!” I could scarcely keep my countenance till we left the table, and as soon as we reached our room a simultaneous laugh broke from us all. - In the evening our excellent friends came to us again, and though Mr Tebbs still talked chiefly of Bishops yet his conversation is always lively and instructive, and deeply characterized by Christian feeling. He gave us tonight an interesting account of the circumstances of the translation of the Bible into the spoken language of Abysinia, and of his own share in the work of copying from the original manuscript for the printer employed by the Bible society.

This morning my maid brought me the Opinione containing the horrible story of the murder of Signora Statella by Marie Sophie, ex-queen of Naples. The dreadful tragedy has long been whispered about, but the solemn denials of its truth so often made officially at Rome, had nearly silenced the terrible scandal - when lo, it comes up again in a more authentic form than ever. I confess myself greatly shocked, for I had admired the spirit and pitied the fate of this young queen, and did not believe in the wild tales of crime and violence told to her disadvantage. Is it then possible that the infamous vices and crimes which we shudder to read about in History are still exemplified in the lives of kings and courts of at this very day?

Letters and papers from home occupied us for some time this Lett morning, and later Mrs Valerio came out from Genoa. We had to compare notes as to the intelligence and the general impression of hone [home] affairs as conveyed by our private correspondence, but we could not manage to get much consolation out of it in any way. Mrs Valerio says that her brother Lorenzo, just made Senatore del Regno, is pleased with the new Ministry, and hopes Italian matters may go on better.

This morning we finished the Adieux of Adolph Monod - the latter part of the book evidently written out with more care, and in other respects, too, it pleased us better. It is an interesting, touching relic, but I can’t imagine how any one could ever think of it in connection with the Confessions of St Augustine. A violent headache made the day long to me - Carrie brought home a nice pleasant sermon of Mr Vennibles’, Mr Tebbs son-in-law, of which we enjoyed the reading.

This is the third cloudless day we have had in succession, and the thermometer stands at 60 in the morning, 65 at mid-day. Mr Marsh and Carrie really complain of the heat when they take the least exercise. Mrs Tebbs brought me a handful of the loveliest roses just gathered in the open air. So far we find the climate all we could desire. Mrs Tebbs in her walk found hay-making going on, not on a large scale, to be sure, but in the lawns belonging to the villa’s. Our family letters were more consoling than usual this morning, still political affairs were are not what we could wish.

Mr Marsh and Carrie took a long walk up the Val Varenna, and came home loaded with wild-flowers, heaths, and winter-berries, black and red, so that we were able to make up a gay bouquet. It is such an advantage to be where one can take such walks, especially for Mr Marsh who writes so many hours steadily. I try to persuade him not to work as hard, but Adam-like he answers that the fault is all mine - that he should never have made books but for me - and that no man ever had so hard a mistress since the time of the late Mrs Durer.

We had an amusing instance this morning of Italian ingenuity, as well as a proof of Italian patriotism. I thought we had seen the red, green, and white, produced in every possible comf combination and in every material, and in every article that Italian fancy could contrive, but this morning we had something new - a tri-color salade - composed of beets, potatoes and olives, disposed with an unmistakable eye to the flag. I wonder if the Stars and Stripes are petted to this extent in America even now. At one Mr and Mrs Valerio came down to spend the day with us - We could not have asked for a finer sky and temperature for them, and Mrs Valerio found our room almost too warm without a fire - far warmer, she says, than her own in Genoa where she keeps a constant fire.

Again the day has come around that takes Mr Marsh to Turin. He left soon after one, having done a full day’s work first. I hope he may get an answer of peace from our Government in reference to the generous offer of Garibaldi and his heroic little band, though I have little hope that it will be accepted. A day or two since Mr Marsh received a most prudent, as well as most hearty note from the General himself ~.

We were scarcely ready to sit down quietly this morning when I received Commodore Thatcher’s card. He came up, and though we had never met before, we found so many things to talk about at this distance from our country and in this critical moment of her national life, that four hours flew away like an ordinary morning visit. We did not agree in everything certainly, but the Commodore loves his country, and would die for it, and that is enough to make me like him.

My admiration for the climate here grows stronger every day. This morning we have been sitting with the drawing-room-windows open all the morning, the temperature is perfect - the sea rolls in magnificently, and the smell of the salt-water is most refreshing. The orange harvest is just beginning - how can we go to back to Turin now ? Mr Marsh returned at nine this evening bringing nothing of importance from Turin. The Casa d’Angennes is still in possession of the self-styled princess. The countess has seized the horses of the grande dame, and her baker, butcher, grocer etc., having refused further supplies without some signs of pay, Rattazzi has come to the rescue, and furnishes Madame’s table daily. The ex-Minister, in thus publicly protecting a woman as infamous shows a want of self-respect that one would hardly have expected even from him. Her age, her deafness, and her ill-breeding, - to say nothing of other things, would probably have out-balanced any personal charms she may still possess, if it were not for that very slender thread which connects her with the Bonapartes.

We had no visitors from Genoa today and had a quiet pleasant Sunday to ourselves

Carrie went to Genoa to look up Christmas presents. Mr Marsh worked hard at his book all the morning. We get little time to read together now except Sundays. We have on hand through Mare Monnier’s “La Camorra”, and Michelet’s “Sorciùre”. The former is very curious, the latter, though in some respects false in principle, is full of interest. He speaks of a friend of his as being the last survivor of the Middle Ages. I fancy this might be said with more truth of Ricasoli than of any man now living, though in some essentials the stout-hearted Baron is a man of this Age. Mr Marsh had the distinguished Marchese Pare to Pareto for a travelling companion from Turin saturday and found him most intelligent on all scientific subjects, especially on geographical & geological matters. In fact I think he stands very high as a geologist. Signor Campazzi says the Marchese is considered as a liberal with a hue strongly inclining to red. -

Mr Lowe and Mr Wallace, officers from the Constellation, came down to Pegli this morning. They are both gentlemen, and hearty patriots, though Mr Wallace is from Tennesee. They both want the rebellion put down, and are ready, I have no doubt, to die in the cause, but curious enough, even Lowe, a Massachusetts man, evidently thinks that Slavery is the last thing that ought to be meddled with. Oh, the infatuation with which this most subtle of poisons has filled us! These gentlemen both are very hopeful, even confident of an early restoration of the Union, and the account they give from personal knowledge of the state of feeling among the middle and lower classes in Florida and Alabama at the outbreak of the rebellion is most interesting. They confirm the often-repeated statement that the majority of the people in those states were then in favor of the Union, and if they could have had protection and arms, they were ready to fight for it. Carrie and Miss Tebbs strolled for several hours of the hills in search of Christmas evergreens, and returned loaded with treasures, among which was the beautiful English holly, a novelty to us.

Carrie and I were obliged to give our morning to ‘baby-things’ for a Christmas-tree which the Tebbses are getting up for the little Strettells. I sometimes ask myself what is to be the end of all this unbounded devotion to children. One of these little Strettells already possesses twentyseven dolls, and other playthings in proportion. These toys are now heaped upon children in advance of the age at which they could possibly enjoy them, and in this way they are deprived of every real pleasure in them. They are made selfish while they are little, and are blasĂ©s before they are grown. I could not give an hour to this worse than folly if it were not for the fear of wounding our friends the Tebbses. It is not to the tree, but to its extravagant fruits that I object.

Nothing could be quieter than our Christmas which was a great comfort to me, as my heart is this year in no mood for gaieties. The illness of Mr and Mrs Tebbs in the morning kept them from church - the tree frolic was postponed to New Years, and we had no interruptions of any kind through the day. In the evening we were all well enough to gather at the dinner-table, and the three new guests who have been with us two days, helped us make quite a table-full. After dinner our friends came in to us and we had a pleasant chat of an hour. Among the subjects discussed was the famous Letter, or rather Letters, of Mr Wordsworth, translated into Italian, and signed ‘Un Ecclesiastico.’ I told Mrs Tebbs that I did not like the idea of a clergyman belonging to the English Church writing a Letter to the Italians on Church questions, in a form and with signature intended to make them believe that it came from a priest of their own Romish Church - that however good it might be in itself it was not honourable to try to insinuate even truth under false colours - and I asked her if this was not exactly what we complained of in the morality, or rather immorality of the Jesuits. She answered as I should have expected from so single-minded a person - said that she had already told Mr Strettell that she did not like the principle of the proceeding, and furthermore that Signor Campazzi (straight-forward truth-loving soul that he is) had told her that he was much pained by the want of frankness shown in the form and signature of these Letters - that they would do no good in Italy, for the circumstances facts would certainly be known, and would give a great shock to Italian faith in English truthfullness. Mrs Tebbs then asked me if Mr Marsh had not spoken to Mr Strettell or Mr Tottenham on the subject. I said no, because he thought they would set it down as a foolish Puritan prejudice on his part - that and I then said, I shall certainly do so myself [illegible] as soon as I have an opportunity. Mrs Tebbs also added that when they were first told that the Letters were by Mr Wordsworth, but that this fact must be kept secret, both she an Mr Tebbs were quite at a loss to understand the object of the secrecy, and it was only when explained by Mr Campazzi, that they fully understood it. She is resolved as soon as she sees Mr Strettell to ask him how he would like to have a Romish priest succeed in giving circulation through-out the English Church to one of his Letters, the impression of that Church being that this Letter was written by one of its own dignitaries.

Our friend Campazzi passed a part of the evening with us, and gave us much curious information about prominent events and persons during the last fifteen years. He has evidently been on very intimate terms with Massimo d’Azeglio, especially in ’47 at Rome. He tells us that the fancied moral superiority of the Prince of Syracuse over the rest of the Neapolitan Bourbons is a mistake. He says he was himself living in Palermo while the Prince was in Sicily, and that the general belief there was that the professed liberality of the Prince was assumed only that he might act the part of delator more successfully. Also when in Rome d’Azeglio’s account of him corresponds entirely with his own observation and the opinion of the Sicilians. Among other anecdotes of some interest as bringing out little points in the characters of great men, he gave the history of a temporary coldness between Gioberti and d’Azeglio. The latter dedicated his book written in Rome to Cesare Balbo, as the first Italian who had dared to write and speak freely on the subject of Italian liberty. Gioberti was hurt by this dedication as he had himself published his Primato more than a year before Balbo had written on the subject, and, indeed, what Balbo had written was little else than commentaries on Gioberti. So far Gioberti seemed to have some cause for feeling that justice had not been done him. D’Azeglio was told that his friend was wounded, and thereupon gave this explanation: “Gioberti did write his Primato before Balbo published the work to which I alluded, - but where did he publish it? Not like Balbo, in Turin, in the face of the most despotic government, but in Brussels. All I meant to say was that Balbo was the first who had dared under the very eye of despotism itself, to write and speak without restraint, and I am sure Gioberti will be as ready as I am to recognize this merit.” This explanation perfectly satisfied Gioberti, and the friendship between the two was as warm as ever.

I should have grudged the day consumed in doll-dressing etc. still more than I do, had it not been necessarily spent in bed, and in a state of body not fitted for more serious employment.

Mr Marsh beguiled the long hours of a day of illness, by reading to me, and in spite of much pain I should call it a pleasant day but for the sad news that closed it in - Burnside defeated, and forced to repass the Rappahannock! Comment here, I leave to History. Providence certainly seems against us. Dreadful as it is the loss of life and the depressing moral effect of this repulse, I dread more than all lest it should put McClellan once more at the head of the Army - the very man whose stupid or treacherous delays made it necessary for Burnside to fight this battle in the rains and mud of a Virginia winter.

After a night of unrest Mr Marsh rose this morning too heavy-hearted, he said, to collect his thoughts for book-making, and severely as I have suffered physically all day I am rather glad of an excuse for not meeting our fellow-guests at the table. When I took up the idea of keeping something like a journal during our stay in Italy, I intended only to note down facts and circumstances that might have a general interest hereafter, and that I might refer to with confidence when my memory would not otherwise help me out, and I had no intention of making it in any way personal. By degrees, however, though I have abstained from recording severe family afflictions and losses that have come upon us since we left our country, matters more personal have crept in, until I am afraid when I come to look over the record - if I should ever live to do so - I shall find little in it of any value for the object I at first purposed to myself. The condition of our Country has been such that we have had little dispositon to seek the society of those persons in whom we felt the strongest interest before we came to Italy, and to whose political position or literary eminence made it an object to know them. The hope we then entertained of being useful to Italy by pointing to our own successful experiment in civil and religious freedom has grown fainter and fainter, and we prefer retirement to the condolence of friends, or the polite sarcasms of the lovers of tyranny. For these reasons I have had less to record concerning persons likely ever to be in any way historical.

Mr Marsh set out for Turin at four cloudy as the weather, and having me in bed. My entertainment after he left were the additional items of the last telegram taken from the London Times. The intimations as to what Lincoln would probably do, would be less stinging did not the feebleness of the Administration thus far warranted the fear that the prophecy might prove to be true.

A day not worth making a note upon except for the reason that, if I allow one day to pass at without at least marking its date, I fear I shall soon grow careless about writing at all - excusing myself from day to day on the ground that, out of our own inner life, nothing has occurred about us worth recording. The little energy left me from pain & weakness to-day, was devoted to superintending the dressing of a doll in the Turkish costume of Constantinople - for the New-years’ tree.