parent of daring action, the great Roman seems but an ambitious and fantastic madman.  In Gibbon’s hands what would Cromwell have been? what Vane? what Hampden?  The pedant, Julian, with his dirty person and pompous affectation, was Gibbon’s ideal of a great man.)

As Rienzi concluded this bold proclamation of the liberties of Italy, the Tuscan ambassadors, and those of some other of the free states, murmured low approbation.  The ambassadors of those States that affected the party of the Emperor looked at each other in silent amaze and consternation.  The Roman Barons remained with mute lips and downcast eyes; only over the aged face of Stephen Colonna settled a smile, half of scorn, half of exultation.  But the great mass of the citizens were caught by words that opened so grand a prospect as the emancipation of all Italy:  and their reverence of the Tribune’s power and fortune was almost that due to a supernatural being; so that they did not pause to calculate the means which were to correspond with the boast.

While his eye roved over the crowd, the gorgeous assemblage near him, the devoted throng beyond;—­as on his ear boomed the murmur of thousands and ten thousands, in the space without, from before the Palace of Constantine (Palace now his own!) sworn to devote life and fortune to his cause; in the flush of prosperity that yet had known no check; in the zenith of power, as yet unconscious of reverse, the heart of the Tribune swelled proudly:  visions of mighty fame and limitless dominion,—­fame and dominion, once his beloved Rome’s and by him to be restored, rushed before his intoxicated gaze; and in the delirious and passionate aspirations of the moment, he turned his sword alternately to the three quarters of the then known globe, and said, in an abstracted voice, as a man in a dream, “In the right of the Roman people this too is mine!” ("Questo e mio.”)

Low though the voice, the wild boast was heard by all around as distinctly as if borne to them in thunder.  And vain it were to describe the various sensations it excited; the extravagance would have moved the derision of his foes, the grief of his friends, but for the manner of the speaker, which, solemn and commanding, hushed for the moment even reason and hatred themselves in awe; afterwards remembered and repeated, void of the spell they had borrowed from the utterer, the words met the cold condemnation of the well-judging; but at that moment all things seemed possible to the hero of the people.  He spoke as one inspired—­they trembled and believed; and, as rapt from the spectacle, he stood a moment silent, his arm still extended—­his dark dilating eye fixed upon space—­his lip parted—­his proud head towering and erect above the herd,—­his own enthusiasm kindled that of the more humble and distant spectators; and there was a deep murmur begun by one, echoed by the rest, “The Lord is with Italy and Rienzi!”

The Tribune turned, he saw the Pope’s Vicar astonished, bewildered, rising to speak.  His sense and foresight returned to him at once, and, resolved to drown the dangerous disavowal of the Papal authority for this hardihood, which was ready to burst from Raimond’s lips, he motioned quickly to the musicians, and the solemn and ringing chant of the sacred ceremony prevented the Bishop of Orvietto all occasion of self-exoneration or reply.