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 benches.  His carriage approached, attended by a howling, hissing multitude.  He smiled, affected unconcern, but must have felt relieved when his horses entered the courtyard gate of the Cancelleria.  He did not know he was entering the place of his execution.  The horses stopped; he alighted in the midst of a crowd; it jostled him, as if for the purpose of insult; he turned abruptly, and received as he did so the fatal blow.  It was dealt by a resolute, perhaps experienced, hand; he fell and spoke no word more.