From
July 24th
To
October 10


Turin August 1st Saturday, Friday
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 procras-
tination 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."
Saturday August 2nd
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 legis-
-lature 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 trouvé
mon chér 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.
Sunday Aug 3rd
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. -
Monday Aug 4th. 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.
Tuesday August 5th

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 ungentle
-manly 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 sin-
cere patriots to look back upon the fatal political blunders during
the last quarter of a century. Abbé 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 Abbé, 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 Abbé 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.
Wednesday 6th Aug.
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.
Thursday 7th Aug.
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 con-
siderations our chance is small of being so well sat-
isfied with his successor.
Friday Aug 8th
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.
Saturday Aug. 9th
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.
Sunday Aug. 10th
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 Abbé just now, professes to think
the storm will blow over without serious consequences.
Monday Aug. 11th
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 Chargé. 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 oc-
casion 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.


Tuesday Aug. 12th
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.
Wednesday, Aug 13th
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.
Thursday Aug 14.
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'.
Friday Aug 15th.
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 exci-
-table towns of the kingdom.
Saturday Aug 16th
The Italian papers this morning announce
the fact that their expectations from the Emperor yesterday are
disappointed - It was his fête 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 guess-
-ed 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 Hôtel 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.
Sunday 17th, 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.
Monday, 18th Aug.
News both Italian and American much the
same as for some days past. We feel sober enough, but more


indignant than depressed.
Tuesday Aug 19th
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 govern-
-ment allows no very precise information as to his movements
to become public.
Wednesday Aug 20th
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.
Thursday Aug 21.
Garibaldi is said to be in Catania, the
government troops who were in pursuit of him having dis-
-cretely 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.


Friday Aug 22nd
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!
Saturday August 23rd
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 near-
sightedness 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.
Sunday 24th Aug -
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.
Monday Aug 25th
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.
Tuesday Aug 26th
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 des-
-tinies 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. Wednesday Aug 27th
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.
Thursday Aug 28th
Today we had a visit from the beau-
-tiful 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
piqué 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.
Friday 29 August.
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 Géndarmaria.
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 nec-
essary 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.
Saturday 30 August
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: "Après


un combat acharné à Aspromonte Garibaldi est
tombé en notre pouvoir blessé. Presque tous les siens
sont prisonniers. Les troupes royales étaient commandées
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.
Sunday 31st
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 re-
-cruiting, 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 Tanárky 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. Tanárky insisted that
Madame P. had more bad news, and finished his en-
-treaties 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 over-
-whelm 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 Thür 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 according-
-ly 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 Thür 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 Thür as a visitor for five months past. The
note was addressed to "Monsieur Thür sous-agent de
Louis Napoléon," and the lady herself put it in his hands
saying "Voilà ma réponse." 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, reproach-
-ed him with his baseness for wishing to appear afterwards
as his defender, and ended up by saying: "Térèse Walter, la femme


de François Pulszky, préfère vos denunciations à 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 Thür 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.
Monday September 1st
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, in-
-timating 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, am-
-putation 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 orac-
ular 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.
Tuesday Sept 2nd
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.
Wed. Sept. 3rd
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 for-
gotten in the charms of philology. Our reposo was at the village of
Simplon where we took a sort of déjeûner à 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 philolo-
gists 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.
Sept Thursday 4th
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 pan-
-orama 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, es-
-pecially 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.
Friday 5th Sept
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 con-
-stantly 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 cham-
ois 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.
Sat. Sept 6th.
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 stri-
-king 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 myste-
-rious 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.
Sunday 7th
We had decided to spend Sunday here without
regard to weather, and therefore were less sorry than we might other-
-wise have been to find the rain still pattering on our windows
when we woke. Our fellow captives are, an English painter and
Jacques Blümenthal 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 alter-
-native 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 Stück". We none of us wanted any more dinner, but
out of pity for the poor girl we sat it through.


Monday 8th Sept
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 sep-
-arated. 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.
Sept Tuesday 9th.
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.
Wednesday Sept 10th
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.
Thursday Sept 11th
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 Rev-
-olution 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.
Friday Sept 12.
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 vasil-
-lations 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 hu-
-miliating 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 __.
Sat Sept 13th.
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."
Sunday Sept 14th
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 ex-
-ists 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.
Monday Sept 15th
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
Siécle. 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.


Tuesday 16 Sept.
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 assas-
sinated! 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.
Wednesday 17th
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.
Thursday Sept 18th
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 influ
-ence 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.
Friday 19th Sept -
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. Every-
thing 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.
Saturday 20th
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 al-
-together 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 per-
-form 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.
Sunday 21st
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 châlets
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 spec-
-tral 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 perpet-
-ually 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 aston-
-ishment 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 perpendic-
-ularly - 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.
Monday Sept. 21 22
A glorious morning tempted us to ascend to
Mürren 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 al-
-ways 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 precip-
-itous ledge below us in falls that would be thought very fine were
it not for the far finer Staubbach. We reached Mürren 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. South-
-ward 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 Schnee-
-horn, 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.
Tuesday Sept 23.
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 ex-


traordinary 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 en-
-couragement 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 Blümlis Alp on the south west, and
most
conspicuous in this range were the Eigher, the Mönch, the
Jungfrau and the Blümlis 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 pro-
-nounced 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 Mürren, but they generally returned to Lauterbrunnen
after spending an hour or two here, and few - none except gen-
-tlemen, staid to try the Schilthorn. Among other travellers


we met here Mr Wilkinson of New Haven, an intelli-
-gent young man whom we conjecture to be a correspondent
of the New York World.
Wednesday 24th
We left Mürren 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
September Thursday 25th -
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.
Friday 26th
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 Mürren, 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 philos-


-ophy, however. We reached the Hôtel 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 Mürren &
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 indes-
cribably sublime - 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.
Saturday 27th
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 Mürren, 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 ex-
-claimed, "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 di-
-agonally 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 min-
utes later, it would have been etwas gefährlich 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 dan-
-gerous, 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.
[Image]


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 prais-
ing 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 mädchen, 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 caffé [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.
Sunday 28th
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 con-
gregation, 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.
Monday 29th Sept.
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 Blümlis 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 wit-
nessed 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 mus-
-lin 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 comprimées à la porte
bouffèrent et ballèrent dans l'église avec une impertinence &c."
Once Tuesday Sept 30.
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 Rei-
-chenbachers 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 delight-
-ful 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 Brünig, 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.
Wednesday Sept Oct 1st
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 pro-
bable 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.
Thursday October 2nd.
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 Flüelen. 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 look-
-ed 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 Flüelen 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.
Friday 3rd
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 es-
-pecially 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 sev-
-eral 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 wonder-
-ful 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.
Saturday Oct 4th
Finding our vetturino unwilling to under-
-take 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 any-
-thing 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 Bellin-
-zona, 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.
Sunday 5th
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
Hôtel 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 mes-
-senger 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 him-
-self 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 cameri-
-ere 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 cru-
-cifixion, 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 any-
-thing 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 Hôtel 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 extem-
-porary 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 ad-
-mission 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.


Monday 6th
We left the Hôtel 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 im-
-mense 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 Chinée 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 extraordi-
-nary beauty, and also that she had two maids to her, either
of them fine enough to have served Victoria, and the gen-
tleman was supported by a butler and courier. The
lady took a seat near me, and soon recognized an acquain
-tance 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 any-
thing 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 société,' by saying "I don't particularly
admire her, do you?" "On the contrary I think her very or-
-dinary" 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 in-
-terested 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 expres-
-sion of sentiments so very unlike what I have found be-
fore among the few of that class whom I know well. Mr
Marsh and I have often remarked how seldom our English ac-
-quaintances 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.
Oct Tuesday 7th
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 Débats 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 contin-
-uing 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?
Wednesday Oct  8th
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 con-
-soled ourselves by discussing now and then the Amnesty which was
published on the sixth, and the new proclamation of President Lincoln
Thursday Oct 9th
A letter from Mr Marsh this morning tells me
that he has a communication from Garibaldi offering his ser-
-vices 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.
Friday Oct 10th
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, connec-
-ted with some superstition which I do not know.