than they do
near, although, seen far and near, nothing _can_ be worse than the
evidence of demoralisation of people, governors, and journalists, in
the sympathy given everywhere to the assassination of poor Rossi.[185]
If Rossi was retrocessive, he was at least a constitutional minister,
and constitutional means of opposing him were open to all, but Italy
understands nothing constitutional; liberty is a fair word and a
watchword, nothing more; an idea it is not in the minds of any. The
poor Pope I deeply pity; he is a weak man with the noblest and most
disinterested intentions. His faithful flock have nearly broken his
heart by the murder of his two personal friends, Rossi and Palma, and
the threat, which they sent him by embassy, of murdering every man,
woman, and child in the Quirinal, with the exception of his Holiness,
unless he accepted their terms. He should have gone out to them and so
died, but having missed that opportunity, nothing remained but flight.
He was a mere Pope hostage as long as he stayed in Rome. Curious, the
'intervention of the French,' so long desired by the Italians,
and vouchsafed _so_.[186] The Florentines open their eyes in mute
astonishment, and some of them 'won't read the journals any more.' The
boldest say softly that the _Romans are sure not to bear it_. And what
is to happen in France? Why, what a world we have just now.... Father
Prout is gone to Rome for a fortnight, has stayed three weeks, and
day by day we expect him back again. I don't understand how the Prout
papers should have hurt him ecclesiastically, but that he should be
_known_ for their writer is not astonishing, as the secret was never,
I believe, attempted to be kept. We have been, at least _I_ have
been, a little anxious lately about the fate of the 'Blot on the
'Scutcheon,' which Mr. Phelps applied for my husband's permission to
revive at Sadler's. Of course, putting the request was a mere form,
as he had every right to act the play, and there was nothing to answer
but one thing. Only it made one anxious--made _me_ anxious--till we
heard the result, and we, both of us, are very grateful to dear Mr.
Chorley, who not only made it his business to be at the theatre the
first night, but, before he slept, sat down like a true friend to give
us the story of the result, and never, he says, was a more complete
and legitimate success. The play went straight to the heart of the
audience, it seems, and we hear of its continuance o