anarchy." But worst of all they have done
is an edict commanding all foreigners who had been in the service of
the Republican government to leave Rome within twenty-four hours. This
is the most infamous thing done yet, as it drives to desperation those
who stayed because they had so many to go with and no place to go
to, or because their relatives lie wounded here: no others wished to
remain in Rome under present circumstances.

I am sick of breathing the same air with men capable of a part so
utterly cruel and false. As soon as I can, I shall take refuge in the
mountains, if it be possible to find an obscure nook unpervaded by
these convulsions. Let not my friends be surprised if they do not hear
from me for some time. I may not feel like writing. I have seen too
much sorrow, and, alas! without power to aid. It makes me sick to see
the palaces and streets of Rome full of these infamous foreigners, and
to note the already changed aspect of her population. The men of Rome
had begun, filled with new hopes, to develop unknown energy,--they
walked quick, their eyes sparkled, they delighted in duty, in
responsibility; in a year of such life their effeminacy would have
been vanquished. Now, dejectedly, unemployed, they lounge along the
streets, feeling that all the implements of labor, all the ensigns of
hope, have been snatched from them. Their hands fall slack, their eyes
rove aimless, the beggars begin to swarm again, and the black ravens
who delight in the night of ignorance, the slumber of sloth, as the
only sureties for their rule, emerge daily more and more frequent from
their hiding-places.

The following Address has been circulated from hand to hand.

"TO THE PEOPLE OF ROME.

"Misfortune, brothers, has fallen upon us anew. But it is trial of
brief duration,--it is the stone of the sepulchre which we shall throw
away after three days, rising victorious and renewed, an immortal
nation. For with us are God and Justice,--God and Justice, who cannot
die, but always triumph, while kings and popes, once dead, revive no
more.

"As you have been great in the combat, be so in the days of
sorrow,--great in your conduct as citizens, by generous disdain, by
sublime silence. Silence is the weapon we have now to use against the
Cossacks of France and the priests, their masters.

"In the streets do not look at them; do not answer if they address
you.

"In the cafes, in the eating-houses, if they enter, rise and go out.