Bologna – Octr 8
Dearest Mrs. Austen
I have thought of you & dear Mr Austen continually, & have longed for more spare time to tell you how much I hope that your anxieties have been graciously mitigated. I do indeed long to hear of you, but have at present had no letters from those friends who cd give us tidings of you. Meanwhile I am thankful to say that we have done well. Sir Chas a little troubled with a cold caught from going from hot Piazzas into cold churches, but enjoying himself thoroughly & in excellent spirits. I know that Layard wrote to you – I think from Dresden – saying that we had fallen in with each other. We met again in Munich where we left him – or them – & I have since heard of them through the Ball’s, whom we met 2 days ago, as having appeared at Mrs Ball’s fathers house, near Bassano (he a
Marchese Parolini) where good little Mrs Ball confessed that Mr B: was rather unwelcome.1 But of this more when we meet, as I trust, dear Mrs Austen we may ere long. I will only add that Layard seemed rather dissipated & like a man truly in a false position. Mrs Drummond & her daughters had come to Munich before we left – so he had plenty on his hands!
We preceeded Layard in our movements in some measure – taking the route into Italy through the Pusterthal, & the Ampezzo Pass – the first one of the loveliest valleys, the last one of the most tremendous of gorges. This brought us down into Titian’s country which Sir Chas had not visited for many years – & so to Conegliano – another birthplace of a great painter, a beautiful place where the rail brought us into Venice. There we were caught at by the starving hotel keepers, as drowning men catch at a straw, & make much of.
Venice was desolate & beautiful – gondoliers talking loud on forbidden subjects when in the middle of the Grand Canal! & the police revell.g in the new modes of arrogance & extortion. We were glad to leave Austria behind us & to breathe the air of liberty, & in this air we have continued to breathe to our great comfort for we have no intentions of going beyond the present extensive domains of the “King of Italy” in which one moves about as freely as in our own England. The change is something surprising – like a natural & good thing after a state of coercion & restraint. From Milan we have taken a trip which we are just about to conclude, taking us through Lodi, Cremona, over the greatly swollen Po to Piacenza, to Modena, Bologna, Ferrara, Faenza, Ravenna & now here we are in Bologna again & hope to be at Milan at the best of all hotels by tomorrow eveng – the railway now embracing all the intervening space – taking us round by Alessandria. Thus we have been in the centre of the present festivities occasioned by the fall of Ancona, & the King’s progress hither through the principal cities. Everywhere signs of enthusiasm, “Eviva Vittorio Emanuele – nostro legittimo Re” on every house in some form or another. Piacenza is becoming a very strong fortress, & swarms with 25,000 soldiers – the Bersagleri with their flattering cock’s feather, real fighting cocks they look, their sailor-like dress, & astonishing rapidity of pace, the most conspicuous objects. The telegram of the fall of Ancona reached Piacenza the day we arrived, & in the eveng the old city burst into illuminations, which harmonized well with the tramp of thousands of feet, the hum of excited voices & the clang of trumpets. I went into the Piazza – with our faithful Tucker – the statues of the old Great Gonzagas gleaming strangely beneath the brilliant light – a scene I shall not forget. We have had an Italian gentleman with us on this trip – a Piedmontese. & our conversation has turned for once quite as much on politics as on art. The more we hear & see, the more we are astonished at the prudence & discretion & patience with which these changes have been brought about, again I must say like a natural event, like a mighty animal saved from torpor, & casting off its slough at the appointed time, making one wonder how it could have laid inactive so long.
There is no doubt that the most important changes are contemplated in the church – but “adagio adagio” – amounting to a Reformation in our sense of the word, a protest against the folly & wickedness that has long ruled. It is a sublime time, spoken of by Italians with more than party feeling or enthusiasm, but with the acknowledgement that nothing but the Divine Hand could have brought it about. ...
Dearest Mrs. Austen
I have thought of you & dear Mr Austen continually, & have longed for more spare time to tell you how much I hope that your anxieties have been graciously mitigated. I do indeed long to hear of you, but have at present had no letters from those friends who cd give us tidings of you. Meanwhile I am thankful to say that we have done well. Sir Chas a little troubled with a cold caught from going from hot Piazzas into cold churches, but enjoying himself thoroughly & in excellent spirits. I know that Layard wrote to you – I think from Dresden – saying that we had fallen in with each other. We met again in Munich where we left him – or them – & I have since heard of them through the Ball’s, whom we met 2 days ago, as having appeared at Mrs Ball’s fathers house, near Bassano (he a
We preceeded Layard in our movements in some measure – taking the route into Italy through the Pusterthal, & the Ampezzo Pass – the first one of the loveliest valleys, the last one of the most tremendous of gorges. This brought us down into Titian’s country which Sir Chas had not visited for many years – & so to Conegliano – another birthplace of a great painter, a beautiful place where the rail brought us into Venice. There we were caught at by the starving hotel keepers, as drowning men catch at a straw, & make much of.
Venice was desolate & beautiful – gondoliers talking loud on forbidden subjects when in the middle of the Grand Canal! & the police revell.g in the new modes of arrogance & extortion. We were glad to leave Austria behind us & to breathe the air of liberty, & in this air we have continued to breathe to our great comfort for we have no intentions of going beyond the present extensive domains of the “King of Italy” in which one moves about as freely as in our own England. The change is something surprising – like a natural & good thing after a state of coercion & restraint. From Milan we have taken a trip which we are just about to conclude, taking us through Lodi, Cremona, over the greatly swollen Po to Piacenza, to Modena, Bologna, Ferrara, Faenza, Ravenna & now here we are in Bologna again & hope to be at Milan at the best of all hotels by tomorrow eveng – the railway now embracing all the intervening space – taking us round by Alessandria. Thus we have been in the centre of the present festivities occasioned by the fall of Ancona, & the King’s progress hither through the principal cities. Everywhere signs of enthusiasm, “Eviva Vittorio Emanuele – nostro legittimo Re” on every house in some form or another. Piacenza is becoming a very strong fortress, & swarms with 25,000 soldiers – the Bersagleri with their flattering cock’s feather, real fighting cocks they look, their sailor-like dress, & astonishing rapidity of pace, the most conspicuous objects. The telegram of the fall of Ancona reached Piacenza the day we arrived, & in the eveng the old city burst into illuminations, which harmonized well with the tramp of thousands of feet, the hum of excited voices & the clang of trumpets. I went into the Piazza – with our faithful Tucker – the statues of the old Great Gonzagas gleaming strangely beneath the brilliant light – a scene I shall not forget. We have had an Italian gentleman with us on this trip – a Piedmontese. & our conversation has turned for once quite as much on politics as on art. The more we hear & see, the more we are astonished at the prudence & discretion & patience with which these changes have been brought about, again I must say like a natural event, like a mighty animal saved from torpor, & casting off its slough at the appointed time, making one wonder how it could have laid inactive so long.
There is no doubt that the most important changes are contemplated in the church – but “adagio adagio” – amounting to a Reformation in our sense of the word, a protest against the folly & wickedness that has long ruled. It is a sublime time, spoken of by Italians with more than party feeling or enthusiasm, but with the acknowledgement that nothing but the Divine Hand could have brought it about. ...
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