Amours de Voyage | Page 9

side. In the middle they drag at
something. What is it?
Ha! bare swords in the air, held up? There
seem to be voices
Pleading and hands putting back; official, perhaps;
but the swords are
Many, and bare in the air. In the air? they descend;
they are smiting,
Hewing, chopping--At what? In the air once more
upstretched? And--
Is it blood that's on them? Yes, certainly blood!
Of whom, then?
Over whom is the cry of this furor of exultation?

While they are skipping and screaming, and dancing their caps on the
points of Swords and bayonets, I to the outskirts back, and ask a

Mercantile-seeming bystander, 'What is it?' and he, looking always

That way, makes me answer, 'A Priest, who was trying to fly to
The
Neapolitan army,'--and thus explains the proceeding.
You didn't see
the dead man? No;--I began to be doubtful;
I was in black myself, and
didn't know what mightn't happen,--
But a National Guard close by
me, outside of the hubbub,
Broke his sword with slashing a broad hat
covered with dust,--and
Passing away from the place with Murray
under my arm, and
Stooping, I saw through the legs of the people the
legs of a body.
You are the first, do you know, to whom I have
mentioned the matter.
Whom should I tell it to else?--these girls?--the
Heavens forbid it!--
Quidnuncs at Monaldini's--Idlers upon the
Pincian?
If I rightly remember, it happened on that afternoon when

Word of the nearer approach of a new Neapolitan army
First was
spread. I began to bethink me of Paris Septembers,
Thought I could
fancy the look of that old 'Ninety-two. On that evening
Three or four,
or, it may be, five, of these people were slaughtered
Some declared
they had, one of them, fired on a sentinel; others
Say they were only
escaping; a Priest, it is currently stated,
Stabbed a National Guard on

the very Piazza Colonna:
History, Rumour of Rumours, I leave to
thee to determine!
But I am thankful to say the government seems to
have strength to
Put it down; it has vanished, at least; the place is
most peaceful.
Through the Trastevere walking last night, at nine of
the clock, I
Found no sort of disorder; I crossed by the Island-bridges,

So by the narrow streets to the Ponte Rotto, and onwards
Thence
by the Temple of Vesta, away to the great Coliseum,
Which at the
full of the moon is an object worthy a visit.
VIII. Georgina Trevellyn to Louisa ----.
Only think, dearest Louisa, what fearful scenes we have witnessed!--

George has just seen Garibaldi, dressed up in a long white cloak, on
Horseback, riding by, with his mounted negro behind him:
This is a man, you know, who came from America with him,
Out of the woods, I suppose, and uses a lasso in fighting,
Which is, I don't quite know, but a sort of noose, I imagine;
This he throws on the heads of the enemy's men in a battle,
Pulls them into his reach, and then most cruelly kills them:
Mary does not believe, but we heard it from an Italian.
Mary allows she was wrong about Mr. Claude BEING SELFISH;
He was MOST useful and kind on the terrible thirtieth of April.
Do not write here any more; we are starting directly for Florence:
We should be off to-morrow, if only Papa could get horses;
All have been seized everywhere for the use of this dreadful Mazzini
P.S.
Mary has seen thus far.--I am really so angry, Louisa,--
Quite
out of patience, my dearest! What can the man be intending?
I am
quite tired; and Mary, who might bring him to in a moment,
Lets him
go on as he likes, and neither will help nor dismiss him.
IX. Claude to Eustace.
It is most curious to see what a power a few calm words (in
Merely a
brief proclamation) appear to possess on the people.
Order is perfect,
and peace; the city is utterly tranquil;
And one cannot conceive that

this easy and nonchalant crowd, that
Flows like a quiet stream
through street and market-place, entering
Shady recesses and bays of
church, osteria, and caffe,
Could in a moment be changed to a flood
as of molten lava,
Boil into deadly wrath and wild homicidal delusion.

Ah, 'tis an excellent race,--and even in old degradation,
Under a
rule that enforces to flattery, lying, and cheating,
E'en under Pope and
Priest, a nice and natural people.
Oh, could they but be allowed this
chance of redemption!--but clearly
That is not likely to be. Meantime,
notwithstanding all journals,
Honour for once to the tongue and the
pen of the eloquent writer!
Honour to speech! and all honour to thee,
thou noble Mazzini!
X. Claude to Eustace.
I am in love, meantime, you think; no doubt you would think so.
I am
in love, you say; with those letters, of course, you would say so.
I am
in love, you declare. I think not so; yet I grant you
It is a pleasure
indeed to converse with this girl. Oh, rare gift,
Rare