The day before I left Rome I saw three robbers guillotined — the ceremony — including the masqued priests — the half-naked executioners — the bandaged criminals — the black Christ & his banner — the scaffold — the soldiery — the slow procession — & the quick rattle and heavy fall of the axe — the splash of the blood — & the ghastliness of the exposed heads — is altogether more impressive than the vulgar and ungentlemanly dirty “new drop” & dog-like agony of infliction upon the sufferers of the English sentence. Two of these men — behaved calmly enough — but the first of the three — died with great terror and reluctance — which was very horrible —… — The pain seems little — & yet the effect to the spectator — & the preparation to the criminal — is very striking & chilling. — The first turned me quite hot and thirsty — & made me shake so that I could hardly hold the operaglass (I was close — but was determined to see — as one should see every thing once — with attention) the second and third (which shows how dreadfully soon things grow indifferent) I am ashamed to say had no effect on me — as a horror — though I would have saved them if I could.1