I had a visit a day ago from M. Carl Gruen, a Prussian, with a letter of introduction from Dall’ Ongaro.  I feel a real regard and liking for Dall’ Ongaro, and would welcome any friend of his.  No—­my Isa.  I would prefer him as my translator to any ‘young lady of twenty.’  Heavens, never whisper it to the Marchesa, but I confide to you that my blood ran cold at that thought.  I know what poets of twenty must in all probability be—­Dall’ Ongaro is a poet, and has a remarkable command of language.

I have tried my hand at turning into literal Italian prose (only marking the lines) a lyric on Rome sent lately to America; and I may show it to you one of these days.

Now I must send off this.  In tender love.

Your BA.

* * * * *

To Miss I. Blagden

[Rome,] 126 Via Felice:  March 20, [1861].

...  Let me answer your questions concerning Non Pio V.E. Se non vero, ben trovato.  Very happy, and I hope true.  Probably enough it may be true, though I never heard it but from you.  There was a banner with ‘Viva Pio IX.’ on one side, and ‘Viva V.E. re d’Italia’ on the other—­that’s true.  And various devices we have had, miraculous rains of revolutionary placards among the rest.  The French have taken to ‘protect’ our demonstrations here, half by way of keeping them under, perhaps—­although the sympathy between the people and the troops (Gorgon apart) has been always undeniable.  You know there was to be a gigantic demonstration to meet the declaration in the North.  It was fixed to spread itself over three days.  The French politely begged the ‘papalini’ to keep out of sight, and then they marched with the Roman demonstration for two days—­twenty thousand Romans gathered together, I hear from those who were there, the greatest order observed—­tricolors insinuated into the costume of all the women.  After a certain time, French officer turns round and addresses the populace ’Gioventu Romana, basta cosi.  Adesso bisogna andare a casa, poiche mi farebbe grandissimo dispiacere d’ aprire ad alcuno la strada delle carceri.’  The last words said smiling—­as words to the wise.  ‘Grazie, grazie, grazie’ were replied on all sides, and the people dispersed in the best humour possible.  Yesterday (San Giuseppe) we were to have had it repeated, but it rained hard, which was fortunate, perhaps; and I hear something of cannons being placed in evidence, and of Gorgon saying ‘de haute voix’ that he couldn’t allow it to go on.  But everybody understands Gorgon.  He has certainly, up to a point, Papal sympathies, and is as tender as he dares be to the Holy Father, and the irritation and wrath of the priestly party is naturally great.  On the other hand, the whole body of French troops and their officers are as much vexed by Gorgon as Gorgon can vex me, and there’s fraternisation with the Romans to an extraordinary degree.