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Guerriere (search for this): chapter 11
st, by the public events that have succeeded One another with such rapidity and grandeur. It is a time such as I always dreamed of, and for long secretly hoped to see. I rejoice to be in Europe at this time, and shall return possessed of a great history. Perhaps I shall be called to act. At present, I know not where to go, what to do. War is everywhere. I cannot leave Rome, and the men of Rome are marching out every day into Lombardy. The citadel of Milan is in the hands of my friends, Guerriere, &c., but there may be need to spill much blood yet in Italy. France and Germany are not in such a state that I can go there now. A glorious flame burns higher and higher in the heart of the nations. The rain was constant through the Roman winter, falling in torrents from 16th December to 19th March. Now the Italian heavens wear again their deep blue, the sun is glorious, the melancholy lustres are stealing again over the Campagna, and hundreds of larks sing unwearied above its ruins.
Joseph Mazzini (search for this): chapter 11
r the most beauteous person I have seen is Joseph Mazzini. If you ever see Saunders' People's Journy came to pass an evening with us. Unluckily, Mazzini was with—us, whose society, when he was thereecilities. We all felt distant from him, and Mazzini, after some vain efforts to remonstrate, became, These are but opinions to Carlyle; but to Mazzini, who has given his all, and helped bring his rm zeal, is most certain. Margaret had known Mazzini in London, had partaken of his schemes for thWhile she was the friend and correspondent of Mazzini, and knew the springs of action of his party;e new measures. During the spring of 1849, Mazzini came to Rome. He went at once to see Margare rooms met Ossoli. After this interview with Mazzini, it was quite evident that they had lost somey with which they had regarded the issue, for Mazzini had discovered the want of singleness of purpof Margaret you know,—it is always the same. Mazzini is immortally dear to me --a thousand times
Balzac (search for this): chapter 11
riends. He said it was not so with her early friends; that she has chosen to buy a chateau in the region where she passed her childhood, and that the people there love and have always loved her dearly. She is now at the chateau, and, I begin to fear, will not come to town before I go. Since I came, I have read two charming stories recently written by her. Another longer one she has just sold to La Presse for fifteen thousand francs. She does not receive nearly as much for her writings as Balzac, Dumas, or Sue. She has a much greater influence than they, but a less circulation. She stays at the chateau, because the poor peopl there were suffering so much, and she could help them. She has subscribed twenty thousand francs for their relief, in the scarcity of the winter. It is a great deal to earn by one's pen: a novel of several volumes sold for only fifteen thousand francs, as I mentioned before. * * * At last, however, she came; and I went to see her at her house, Place d'o
Charles Albert (search for this): chapter 11
an ever come again! At least, we have had some hours of peace together, if now it is all over. Adieu love; I embrace thee always, and pray for thy welfare. Most affectionately, adieu. From this trial, however, she was spared. Pio Nono hesitated to send the civic guard to the north of Italy. Then Margaret writes:— On our own account, love, I shall be most grateful, if you are not obliged to go. But how unworthy, in the Pope! He seems now a man without a heart. And that traitor, Charles Albert! He will bear the curse of all future ages. Can you learn particulars from Milan? I feel sad for our poor friends there; how much they must suffer! I shall be much more tranquil to have you at my side, for it would be sad to die alone, without the touch of one dear hand. Still, I repeat what I said in my last; if duty prevents you from coming, I will endeavor to take care of myself. Again, two days later, she says: —I feel, love, a profound sympathy with you, but am not able to giv
Niebuhr (search for this): chapter 11
s around is more unbroken; I begin to be very familiar with them. The sun shines always, when last winter it never shone. I feel strong; I can go everywhere on foot. I pass whole days abroad; sometimes I take a book, but seldom read it:—why should I, when every stone talks? In spring, I shall go often out of town. I have read La Rome Souterraine of Didier, and it makes me wish to see Ardea and Nettuno. Ostia is the only one of those desolate sites that I know yet. I study sometimes Niebuhr, and other books about Rome, but not to any great profit. In the circle of my friends, two have fallen. One a person of great wisdom, strength, and calmness. She was ever to me a most tender friend, and one whose sympathy I highly valued. Like you by nature and education conservative, she was through thought liberal. With no exuberance or passionate impulsiveness herself, she knew how to allow for these in others. The other was a woman of my years, of the most precious gifts in hear
Tennyson (search for this): chapter 11
n on the former evening, grew wearisome to me, who disclaimed and rejected almost every. thing he said. For a couple of hours, he was talking about poetry, and the whole harangue was one eloquent proclamation of the defects in his own mind. Tennyson wrote in verse because the schoolmasters had taught him that it was great to do so, and had thus, unfortunately, been turned from the true path for a man. Burns had, in like manner, been turned from his vocation. Shakspeare had not had the goodbe worth more in writing, if he could get time to write, than in personal intercourse. He may yet find time;—he is scarcely more than thirty. Dr. W. wished to introduce me to Mr. Clissold, but I had not time; shall find it, if in London again. Tennyson was not in town. Browning has just married Miss Barrett, and gone to Italy. I may meet them there. Bailey is helping his father with a newspaper! His wife and child (Philip Festus by name) came to see me. I am to make them a visit on my re
Waldo (search for this): chapter 11
uld never have forgotten what he was when fresh from the soul's home, and what he was to me when my soul pined for sympathy, pure and unalloyed The three children I have seen who were fairest in my eyes, and gave most promise of the future, were Waldo, Pickie, Hermann Clarke;--all nipped in the bud. Endless thoughts has this given me, and a resolve to seek the realization of all hopes and plans elsewhere, which resolve will weigh with me as much as it can weigh before the silver cord is finallle smile!-and more than four weeks we watched him night and day, before we saw it,--new resolution dawned in my heart. I resolved to live, day by day, hour by hour, for his dear sake. So, if he is only treasure lent,—if he too must go, as sweet Waldo, Pickie, Hermann, did,—as all my children do!—I shall at least have these days and hours with him. How intolerable was this last blow to one stretched so long on the rack, is plain from Margaret's letters. I shall never again, she writes, be <
Korner (search for this): chapter 11
quate to my desires. to M. S. Rome, Nov. 23, 1848. Mazzini has stood alone in Italy, on a sunny height, far above the stature of other men. He has fought a great fight against folly, compromise, and treason; steadfast in his convictions, and of almost miraculous energy to sustain them, is he. He has foes; and at this moment, while he heads the insurrection in the Valtellina, the Roman people murmur his name, and long to call him here. How often rings in my ear the consolatory word of Korner, after many struggles, many undeceptions, Though the million suffer shipwreck, yet noble hearts survive! I grieve to say, the good-natured Pio has shown himself utterly derelict, alike without resolution to abide by the good or the ill. He is now abandoned and despised by both parties. The people do not trust his word, for they know he shrinks from the danger, and shuts the door to pray quietly in his closet, whilst he knows the cardinals are misusing his name to violate his pledges. Th
Andrew Combe (search for this): chapter 11
e is so kind a neighbor. True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home. Edinburgh.—De Quincey. At Edinburgh we were in the wrong season, and many persons we most wished to see were absent. We had, however, the good fortune to find Dr. Andrew Combe, who received us with great kindness. I was impressed with great and affectionate respect, by the benign and even temper of his mind, his extensive and accurate knowledge, accompanied by a large and intelligent liberality. Of our country hld have offered the stranger the best chair. Joanna Baillie.—Howitts.—Smith. I have mentioned with satisfaction seeing some persons who illustrated the past dynasty in the progress of thought here: Wordsworth, Dr. Chalmers, De Quincey, Andrew Combe. With a still higher pleasure, because to one of my own sex, whom I have honored almost above any, I went to pay my court to Joanna Baillie. I found on her brow, not, indeed, a coronal of gold, but a serenity and strength undimmed and unbrok<
Sand (search for this): chapter 11
ind that one can live pleasantly at Paris for little money; and we prefer to economize by a briefer stay, if at all. to E. H. Paris, Jan. 18, 1847, and Naples, March 17, 1847.— You wished to hear of George Sand, or, as they say in Paris, Madame Sand. I find that all we had heard of her was true in the outline; I had supposed it might be exaggerated. She had every reason to leave her husband,—a stupid, brutal man, who insulted and neglected her. He afterwards gave up their child to her fy discourse. This has been a great trial to me, who am eloquent and free in my own tongue, to be forced to feel my thoughts strunggling in vain for utterance. The servant who admitted me was in the picturesque costume of a peasant, and, as Madame Sand afterward told me, her god-daughter, whom she had brought from her province. She announced me as Madame Salere. and returned into the ante-room to tell me, Madame says she does not know you. I began to think I was doomed to a rebuff, among
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