Louis Philippe; and Metternich is crushed in Austria. I saw the Austrian arms dragged through the-streets here, and burned in the Piazza del Pepolo. The Italians embraced one another, and cried, miracolo, Providenza! the Tribune Ciceronachio fed the flame with fagots; Adam Mickiewicz, the great poet of Poland, long exiled from his country, looked on; while Polish women brought little pieces that had been scattered in the street, and threw into the flames. When the double-headed eagle was pulled down from the lofty portal of the Palazzo di Venezia, the people placed there, in its stead, one of white and gold, inscribed with the name, Alta Italia; and instantly the news followed, that Milan, Venice, Modena, and Parma, were driving out their tyrants. These news were received in Rome with indescribable rapture. Men danced, and women wept with joy along the street. The youths rushed to enrol themselves in regiments to go to the frontier. In the Colosseum, their names were received.
Rome, April 1, 1848. — Yesterday, on returning from
Ostia, I find the official news, that the Viceroy Ranieri
has capitulated at Verona; that Italy is free,
independent, and one. I trust this will prove no April
foolery. It seems too good, too speedy a realization
of hope.
Rome, April 30, 1848. — It is a time such as I
always dreamed of; and that fire burns in the hearts of
men around me which can keep me warm. Have I
something to do here? or am I only to cheer on the
warriors, and after write the history of their deeds? The
first is all I have done yet, but many have blessed me
