(M113) Two men only were excepted from the Pontifical amnesty. These were the authors of that atrocious act, the blowing up of the Sorristori barracks. Their crime, indeed, could not be considered as anything connected with the war, but simply as cowardly assassination. Those two wretches, Monti and Tognetti, underwent a regular trial, which lasted more than a year, and at which all the forms required by law were strictly observed. They were convicted, and ended by acknowledging everything. They suffered capital punishment, and, at their execution, begged pardon of God and men. The day after this execution—coming generations will scarcely believe so strange a fact—the Chamber of Deputies at Florence solemnly protested against it, as did also Victor Emmanuel. The secret societies opened a subscription list for the widows of the executed criminals. Victor Emmanuel took part in it. And thus did a king honor parties who commit murder by gunpowder plots. True, this king was the same prince who, in pursuance of a decree issued by Garibaldi, at Naples, in 1861, pensioned the widow of the regicide, Agesilas Milano. (M114) Pius IX. entertained quite a different idea of the duties of royalty. He was persuaded that an example should be made of the foul crime of Monti and Tognetti, and so could not be moved. “A king,” said he, “owes justice to all alike, certainly not excepting honest people: and hence assassins must not be allowed to count on impunity.” He went kindly to visit the wounded Garibaldians, “those unfortunate people, a great many of whom were only misled, and who, nevertheless, were his children.” Two hundred of them had been conveyed to a lower room in the Castle of St. Angelo. He visited them quite alone, and thus addressed them: “Here I am, my friends; you see before you him whom your general calls the Vampire of Italy; you all took up arms against me, and you see that I am only a poor old man! You are in need of shoes, clothes and linen. Well, the Pope on whom you made war will cause you to be supplied with all these things. He will then send you back to your families; only before your departure, you will, from love to me, make a spiritual retreat.” The unfortunate rebels could not believe their eyes or their ears. Some turned away from him in sullen wrath, like demons who will not give up hating. Others, in greater numbers, seized hold of the paternal hand which was raised over them to bless them, and bathed it with their tears. The good Pope, marvelled at the designs of God, who brings good out of evil. “_O felix culpa_” (“O happy fault!”), said he, alluding to the prayers of Holy Saturday, “if these children had not borne arms against me, they would not, perhaps, have died so piously.”