There was a long interval of deep silence—­of general calm—­throughout the whole of Rome:  the shops were still but half-opened; no man betook himself to his business; it was like the commencement of some holyday, when indolence precedes enjoyment.

About noon, a few small knots of men might be seen scattered about the streets, whispering to each other, but soon dispersing; and every now and then, a single passenger, generally habited in the long robes used by the men of letters, or in the more sombre garb of monks, passed hurriedly up the street towards the Church of St. Mary of Egypt, once the Temple of Fortune.  Then, again, all was solitary and deserted.  Suddenly, there was heard the sound of a single trumpet!  It swelled—­it gathered on the ear.  Cecco del Vecchio looked up from his anvil!  A solitary horseman paced slowly by the forge, and wound a long loud blast of the trumpet suspended round his neck, as he passed through the middle of the street.  Then might you see a crowd, suddenly, and as by magic, appear emerging from every corner; the street became thronged with multitudes; but it was only by the tramp of their feet, and an indistinct and low murmur, that they broke the silence.  Again the horseman wound his trump, and when the note ceased, he cried aloud—­“Friends and Romans! tomorrow, at dawn of day, let each man find himself unarmed before the Church of St. Angelo.  Cola di Rienzi convenes the Romans to provide for the good state of Rome.”  A shout, that seemed to shake the bases of the seven hills, broke forth at the end of this brief exhortation; the horseman rode slowly on, and the crowd followed.—­This was the commencement of the Revolution!

Chapter 2.VI.  The Conspirator Becomes the Magistrate.

At midnight, when the rest of the city seemed hushed in rest, lights were streaming from the windows of the Church of St. Angelo.  Breaking from its echoing aisles, the long and solemn notes of sacred music stole at frequent intervals upon the air.  Rienzi was praying within the church; thirty masses consumed the hours from night till morn, and all the sanction of religion was invoked to consecrate the enterprise of liberty. (In fact, I apprehend that if ever the life of Cola di Rienzi shall be written by a hand worthy of the task, it will be shown that a strong religious feeling was blended with the political enthusiasm of the people,—­the religious feeling of a premature and crude reformation, the legacy of Arnold of Brescia.  It was not, however, one excited against the priests, but favoured by them.  The principal conventual orders declared for the Revolution.) The sun had long risen, and the crowd had long been assembled before the church door, and in vast streams along every street that led to it,—­when the bell of the church tolled out long and merrily; and as it ceased, the voices of the choristers within chanted the following hymn, in which were somewhat strikingly, though barbarously, blended, the spirit of the classic patriotism with the fervour of religious zeal:—­