ey speak with), and the mountains
were divine, and it was provoking to be crossed in our ambitions by
that little holy abbot with the red face, and to be driven out of
Eden, even to Florence. It is said, observe, that Milton took his
description of Paradise from Vallombrosa--so driven out of Eden we
were, literally. To Florence, though! and what Florence is, the tongue
of man or poet may easily fail to describe. The most beautiful of
cities, with the golden Arno shot through the breast of her like an
arrow, and 'non dolet' all the same. For what helps to charm here
is the innocent gaiety of the people, who, for ever at feast day and
holiday celebrations, come and go along the streets, the women in
elegant dresses and with glittering fans, shining away every thought
of Northern cares and taxes, such as make people grave in England.
No little orphan on a house step but seems to inherit, naturally
his slice of water-melon and bunch of purple grapes, and the rich
fraternise with the poor as we are unaccustomed to see them, listening
to the same music and walking in the same gardens, and looking at the
same Raphaels even! Also we were glad to be here just now, when there
is new animation and energy given to Italy by this new wonderful
Pope, who is a great man and doing greatly. I hope you give him your
sympathies. Think how seldom the liberation of a people begins from
the throne, _a fortiori_ from a papal throne, which is so high and
straight.[165] And the spark spreads! here is even our Grand
Duke conceding the civic guard,[166] and forgetting his Austrian
prejudices. The world learns, it is pleasant to observe....

So well I am, dear Mr. Westwood, and so happy after a year's trial of
the stuff of marriage, happier than ever, perhaps, and the revolution
is so complete that one has to learn to stand up straight and steadily
(like a landsman in a sailing ship) before one can do any work with
one's hand and brain.

We have had a delightful letter from Carlyle, who loves my husband, I
am proud to say.

[Footnote 165:'This country saving is a glorious thing:
And if a common man achieved it? well.
Say, a rich man did? excellent. A king?
That grows sublime. A priest? Improbable.
A pope? Ah, there we stop, and cannot bring
Our faith up to the leap, with history's bell

So heavy round the neck of it--albeit
We fain would grant the possibility
For thy sake, Pio Nono!'

_Casa Guidi Windows_, part i.]

[Fo