for which his biographer (In this the anonymous writer compares him gravely to Hannibal, who knew how to conquer, but not how to use his conquest.) and Gibbon blame him, the reason is sufficiently clear—­“Volea pecunia per soldati”—­he wanted money for the soldiers!  On his return as Senator, it must be remembered that he had to besiege Palestrina, which was considered even by the ancient Romans almost impregnable by position; but during the few weeks he was in power, Palestrina yielded—­all his open enemies were defeated—­the tyrants expelled—­Rome free; and this without support from any party, Papal or Popular, or, as Gibbon well expresses it, “suspected by the People—­abandoned by the Prince.”

On regarding what Rienzi did, we must look to his means, to the difficulties that surrounded him, to the scantiness of his resources.  We see a man without rank, wealth, or friends, raising himself to the head of a popular government in the metropolis of the Church—­in the City of the Empire.  We see him reject any title save that of a popular magistrate—­establish at one stroke a free constitution—­a new code of law.  We see him first expel, then subdue, the fiercest aristocracy in Europe—­conquer the most stubborn banditti, rule impartially the most turbulent people, embruted by the violence, and sunk in the corruption of centuries.  We see him restore trade—­establish order—­create civilization as by a miracle—­receive from crowned heads homage and congratulation—­outwit, conciliate, or awe, the wiliest priesthood of the Papal Diplomacy—­and raise his native city at once to sudden yet acknowledged eminence over every other state, its superior in arts, wealth, and civilization;—­we ask what errors we are to weigh in the opposite balance, and we find an unnecessary ostentation, a fanatical extravagance, and a certain insolent sternness.  But what are such offences—­what the splendour of a banquet, or the ceremony of Knighthood, or a few arrogant words, compared with the vices of almost every prince who was his contemporary?  This is the way to judge character:  we must compare men with men, and not with ideals of what men should be.  We look to the amazing benefits Rienzi conferred upon his country.  We ask his means, and see but his own abilities.  His treasury becomes impoverished—­his enemies revolt—­the Church takes advantage of his weakness—­he is excommunicated—­the soldiers refuse to fight—­the People refuse to assist—­the Barons ravage the country—­the ways are closed, the provisions are cut off from Rome. ("Allora le strade furo chiuse, li massari de la terre non portavano grano, ogni die nasceva nuovo rumore.”—­“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. i. cap. 37.) A handful of banditti enter the city—­Rienzi proposes to resist them—­the People desert—­he abdicates.  Rapine, Famine, Massacre, ensue—­they who deserted regret, repent—­yet he is still unassisted, alone—­now an exile, now a prisoner, his own genius saves him from every peril, and restores