y 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.

Penini came home three days ago in a state of ecstasy. 'No--he never had
been so happy in all his life. Oh mama, I _am_ so happy!' What had
happened, I asked. Why, Pen, being on the Pincio, had fallen on the
French troops, had pushed through, and heard 'l'ordre du jour' read, had
made friends with 'ever so many captains,' had marched in the ranks
round the Pincio and into the _caserne_, had talked a great deal about
Chopin, Stephen Heller, &c., with musical officers, and most about
politics, and had been good-naturedly brought back to our door because
he was 't