es.

TO M.S.

_Rome, Nov._ 23, 1848.--Mazzini has stood alone in Italy, on a sunny
height, far above the stature of other men. He has fought a great
fight against folly, compromise, and treason; steadfast in his
convictions, and of almost miraculous energy to sustain them, is he.
He has foes; and at this moment, while he heads the insurrection in
the Valtellina, the Roman people murmur his name, and long to call him
here.

How often rings in my ear the consolatory word of Koerner, after many
struggles, many undeceptions, "Though the million suffer shipwreck,
yet noble hearts survive!"

I grieve to say, the good-natured Pio has shown himself utterly
derelict, alike without resolution to abide by the good or the ill. He
is now abandoned and despised by both parties. The people do not trust
his word, for they know he shrinks from the danger, and shuts the
door to pray quietly in his closet, whilst he knows the cardinals are
misusing his name to violate his pledges. The cardinals, chased from
Rome, talk of electing an anti-Pope; because, when there was danger,
he has always yielded to the people, and they say he has overstepped
his prerogative, and broken his papal oath. No one abuses him, for it
is felt that in a more private station he would have acted a kindly
part; but he has failed of so high a vocation, and balked so noble a
hope, that no one respects him either. Who would have believed, a year
ago, that the people would assail his palace? I was on Monte Cavallo
yesterday, and saw the broken windows, the burnt doors, the walls
marked by shot, just beneath the loggia, on which we have seen him
giving the benediction. But this would never have happened, if his
guard had not fired first on the people. It is true it was without his
order, but, under a different man, the Swiss would never have dared to
incur such a responsibility.

Our old acquaintance, Sterbini, has risen to the ministry. He has
a certain influence, from his consistency and independence, but has
little talent.

Of me you wish to know; but there is little I can tell you at this
distance. I have had happy hours, learned much, suffered much, and
outward things have not gone fortunately with me. I have had glorious
hopes, but they are overclouded now, and the future looks darker than
ever, indeed, quite impossible to my steps. I have no hope, unless
that God will show me some way I do not know of now; but I do not wish
to trouble you with mor