frequently represented by a transitory frenzy, violent and pestilent
while it lasts, utterly insignificant when it has spent its fury.

But Rome in those days was peopled solely by Romans, whereas now a large
proportion of the population consists of Italians from the north and
south, who have been attracted to the capital by many interests--races as
different from its former citizens as Germans or Spaniards, and
unfortunately not disposed to show overmuch good-fellowship or
loving-kindness to the original inhabitants. The Roman is a grumbler by
nature, but he is also a "peace-at-any-price" man. Politicians and
revolutionary agents have more than once been deceived by these traits,
supposing that because the Roman grumbled he really desired change, but
realising too late, when the change has been begun, that that same Roman
is but a lukewarm partisan. The Papal Government repressed grumbling as a
nuisance, and the people consequently took a delight in annoying the
authorities by grumbling in secret places and calling themselves
conspirators. The harmless whispering of petty discontent was mistaken by
the Italian party for the low thunder of a smothered volcano; but, the
change being brought about, the Italians find to their disgust that the
Roman meant nothing by his murmurings, and that he now not only still
grumbles at everything, but takes the trouble to fight the Government at
every point which concerns the internal management of the city. In the
days before the change, a paternal Government directed the affairs of the
little State, and thought it best to remove all possibility of strife by
giving the grumblers no voice in public or economic matters. The
grumblers made a grievance of tins; and then, as soon as the grievance
had been redressed, they redoubled their complaints and retrenched
themselves within the infallibility of inaction, on the principle that
men who persist in doing nothing cannot possibly do wrong.