took part in it. And thus did a king honor parties who
commit murder by gunpowder plots. True, this king was the same prince who,
in pursuance of a decree issued by Garibaldi, at Naples, in 1861,
pensioned the widow of the regicide, Agesilas Milano.

(M114) Pius IX. entertained quite a different idea of the duties of
royalty. He was persuaded that an example should be made of the foul crime
of Monti and Tognetti, and so could not be moved. "A king," said he, "owes
justice to all alike, certainly not excepting honest people: and hence
assassins must not be allowed to count on impunity." He went kindly to
visit the wounded Garibaldians, "those unfortunate people, a great many of
whom were only misled, and who, nevertheless, were his children." Two
hundred of them had been conveyed to a lower room in the Castle of St.
Angelo. He visited them quite alone, and thus addressed them: "Here I am,
my friends; you see before you him whom your general calls the Vampire of
Italy; you all took up arms against me, and you see that I am only a poor
old man! You are in need of shoes, clothes and linen. Well, the Pope on
whom you made war will cause you to be supplied with all these things. He
will then send you back to your families; only before your departure, you
will, from love to me, make a spiritual retreat." The unfortunate rebels
could not believe their eyes or their ears. Some turned away from him in
sullen wrath, like demons who will not give up hating. Others, in greater
numbers, seized hold of the paternal hand which was raised over them to
bless them, and bathed it with their tears. The good Pope, marvelled at
the designs of God, who brings good out of evil. "_O felix culpa_" ("O
happy fault!"), said he, alluding to the prayers of Holy Saturday, "if
these children had not borne arms against me, they would not, perhaps,
have died so piously."

It was some time before the details of Mentana were known in France. The
government, it would appear, feared to acknowledge that the French
soldiers took part in the engagement. When, however, the general's report
put an end to all doubt on the subject, there were no bounds to the rage
of the revolutionary party. The revolution, hitherto, had used Louis
Napoleon as a facile and valuable instrument. It could not pardon him
Mentana. But France was not all revolutionary. The mass of the nation,
honest and loyal, shared not the ideas of the secret societies. Far from
regretting what had ta