I went
to the German Artists' ball, where were some pretty costumes, and
beautiful music; and to the Italian masked ball, where interest lies
in intrigue.
I have scarcely gone to the galleries, damp and cold as tombs; or to
the mouldy old splendor of churches, where, by the way, they are
just wailing over the theft of St. Andrew's head, for the sake of
the jewels. It is quite a new era for this population to plunder the
churches; but they are suffering terribly, and Pio's municipality
does, as yet, nothing.
TO W.H.C.
_Rome, March 29, 1848._--I have been engrossed, stunned almost, 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 riot in such a state that I can go
there now.
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