You have your mother; no doubt you have
others, perhaps many. Of that I know nothing; only I like to offer
also my tribute of affection.
When I think that only two years ago you thought of coming into Italy
with us in disguise, it seems very glorious that you are about to
enter republican Rome as a Roman citizen. It seems almost the most
sublime and poetical fact of history. Yet, even in the first thrill of
joy, I felt "he will think his work but beginning, now."
When I read from your hand these words, "II lungo esilio teste
ricominciato, la vita non confortata, fuorche d'affetti lontani e
contesi, e la speranza lungamente protrata, e il desiderio che
comincia a farmi si supremo, di dormire finalmente in pace, da che non
ho potuto, vivere in terra mia,"--when I read these words they made me
weep bitterly, and I thought of them always with a great pang at the
heart. But it is not so, dear Mazzini,--you do not return to sleep
under the sod of Italy, but to see your thought springing up all over
the soil. The gardeners seem to me, in point of instinctive wisdom or
deep thought, mostly incompetent to the care of the garden; but on
idea like this will be able to make use of any implements.
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