_Rome, March_ 14, 1848.--Mickiewicz is with me here, and will remain
some time; it was he I wanted to see, more than any other person, in
going back to Paris, and I have him much better here. France itself
I should like to see, but remain undecided, on account of my health,
which has suffered so much, this winter, that I must make it the
first object in moving for the summer. One physician thinks it will of
itself revive, when once the rains have passed, which have now lasted
from 16th December to this day. At present, I am not able to leave the
fire, or exert myself at all.
* * * * *
In all the descriptions of the Roman Carnival, the fact has been
omitted of daily rain. I felt, indeed, ashamed to perceive it, when no
one else seemed to, whilst the open windows caused me convulsive cough
and headache. The carriages, with their cargoes of happy women dressed
in their ball dresses and costumes, drove up and down, even in the
pouring rain. The two handsome _contadine_, who serve me, took off
their woollen gowns, and sat five hours at a time, in the street, in
white cambric dresses, and straw hats turned up with roses. I never
saw anything like the merry good-humor of these people. I should
always be ashamed to complain of anything here. But I had always
looked forward to the Roman Carnival as a time when I could play too;
and it even surpassed my expectations, with its exuberant gayety and
innocent frolic, but I was unable to take much part. The others threw
flowers all day, and went to masked balls all night; but I went out
only once, in a carriage, and was more exhausted with the storm of
flowers and sweet looks than I could be by a storm of hail. I went
to the German Artists' ball, where were some pretty costumes, and
beautiful music; and to the Italian masked ball, where interest lies
in intrigue.
I have scarcely gone to the galleries, damp and cold as tombs; or to
the mouldy old splendor of churches, where, by the way, they are
just wailing over the theft of St. Andrew's head, for the sake of
the jewels. It is quite a new era for this population to plunder the
churches; but they are suffering terribly, and Pio's municipality
does, as yet, nothing.