lla. Strange things have happened since,
the most attractive part of which--the secret heart--lies buried or
has fled to animate other forms; for of that part historians have
rarely given a hint more than they do now of the truest life of our
day, which refuses to be embodied, by the pen, craving forms more
mutable, more eloquent than the pen can give.

I found Rome empty of foreigners. Most of the English have fled in
affright,--the Germans and French are wanted at home,--the Czar has
recalled many of his younger subjects; he does not like the schooling
they get here. That large part of the population, which lives by the
visits of foreigners was suffering very much,--trade, industry, for
every reason, stagnant. The people were every moment becoming more
exasperated by the impudent measures of the Minister Rossi, and their
mortification at seeing Rome represented and betrayed by a foreigner.
And what foreigner? A pupil of Guizot and Louis Philippe. The news of
the bombardment and storm of Vienna had just reached Rome. Zucchi,
the Minister of War, at once left the city to put down over-free
manifestations in the provinces, and impede the entrance of the troops
of the patriot chief, Garibaldi, into Bologna. From the provinces came
soldiery, called by Rossi to keep order at the opening of the Chamber
of Deputies. He reviewed them in the face of the Civic Guard; the
press began to be restrained; men were arbitrarily seized and sent
out of the kingdom. The public indignation rose to its height; the cup
overflowed.

The 15th was a beautiful day, and I had gone out for a long walk.
Returning at night, the old Padrona met me with her usual smile a
little clouded. "Do you know," said she, "that the Minister Rossi has
been killed?" No Roman said _murdered_.

"Killed?"

"Yes,--with a thrust in the back. A wicked man, surely; but is that
the way to punish even the wicked?"

"I cannot," observed a philosopher, "sympathize under any
circumstances with so immoral a deed; but surely the manner of doing
it was great."

The people at large were not so refined in their comments as either
the Padrona or the philosopher; but soldiers and populace alike ran up
and down, singing, "Blessed the hand that rids the earth of a tyrant."

Certainly, the manner _was_ "great."

The Chamber was awaiting the entrance of Rossi. Had he lived to enter,
he would have found the Assembly, without a single exception, ranged
upon the Opposition bench