Then, swelled on high, shrill but not inspiring as of old, the great bell of the Capitol—­the people, listless, disheartened, awed by the spiritual fear of the papal authority, (yet greater, in such events, since the removal of the see,) came unarmed to the Capitol; and there, by the Place of the Lion, stood the Tribune.  His squires, below the step, held his war-horse, his helm, and the same battle-axe which had blazed in the van of victorious war.

Beside him were a few of his guard, his attendants, and two or three of the principal citizens.

He stood bareheaded and erect, gazing upon the abashed and unarmed crowd with a look of bitter scorn, mingled with deep compassion; and, as the bell ceased its toll, and the throng remained hushed and listening, he thus spoke:—­

“Ye come, then, once again!  Come ye as slaves or freemen?  A handful of armed men are in your walls:  will ye who chased from your gates the haughtiest knights—­the most practised battle-men of Rome, succumb now to one hundred and fifty hirelings and strangers?  Will ye arm for your Tribune?  You are silent!—­be it so.  Will you arm for your own liberties—­your own Rome?  Silent still!  By the saints that reign on the thrones of the heathen gods! are ye thus fallen from your birthright?  Have you no arms for your own defence?  Romans, hear me!  Have I wronged you?—­if so, by your hands let me die:  and then, with knives yet reeking with my blood, go forward against the robber who is but the herald of your slavery; and I die honoured, grateful, and avenged.  You weep!  Great God! you weep!  Ay, and I could weep, too—­that I should live to speak of liberty in vain to Romans—­Weep! is this an hour for tears?  Weep now, and your tears shall ripen harvests of crime, and licence, and despotism, to come!  Romans, arm! follow me at once to the Place of the Colonna:  expel this ruffian—­expel your enemy (no matter what afterwards you do to me):”  he paused; no ardour was kindled by his words—­“or,” he continued, “I abandon you to your fate.”  There was a long, low, general murmur; at length it became shaped into speech, and many voices cried simultaneously:  “The Pope’s bull!—­Thou art a man accursed!”

“What!” cried the Tribune; “and is it ye who forsake me, ye for whose cause alone man dares to hurl against me the thunders of his God?  Is it not for you that I am declared heretic and rebel!  What are my imputed crimes?  That I have made Rome and asserted Italy to be free; that I have subdued the proud Magnates, who were the scourge both of Pope and People.  And you—­you upbraid me with what I have dared and done for you!  Men, with you I would have fought, for you I would have perished.  You forsake yourselves in forsaking me, and since I no longer rule over brave men, I resign my power to the tyrant you prefer.  Seven months I have ruled over you, prosperous in commerce, stainless in justice—­victorious in the field:—­I have shown you what Rome could be; and, since I abdicate the government ye gave me, when I am gone, strike for your own freedom!  It matters nothing who is the chief of a brave and great people.  Prove that Rome hath many a Rienzi, but of brighter fortunes.”