I read little, except the newspapers; these take up an hour
or two of the day. I own, my thoughts are quite fixed on the daily
bulletin of men and things. I expect to write the history, but because
it is so much in my heart. If you were here, I rather think you would
be impassive, like the two most esteemed Americans I see. They do not
believe in the sentimental nations. Hungarians, Poles, Italians, are
too demonstrative for them, too fiery, too impressible. They like
better the loyal, slow-moving Germans: even the Russian, with his
dog's nose and gentlemanly servility, pleases them better than _my_
people. There is an antagonism of race.
TO E.S.
_Rome, June_ 6, 1849.--The help I needed was external, practical. I
knew myself all the difficulties and pains of my position; they were
beyond present relief; from sympathy I could struggle with them, but
had not life enough left, afterwards, to be a companion of any worth.
To be with persons generous and refined, who would not pain; who
would sometimes lend a helping hand across the ditches of this strange
insidious marsh, was all I could have now, and this you gave.
On Sunday, from our loggia, I witnessed a terrible, a real battle.
Pages:
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351