“Amidst the ruins of thy temple, O Liberty! we, Romans, dedicate to thee this libation!  We, befriended and inspired by no unreal and fabled idols, but by the Lord of Hosts, and Him who, descending to earth, appealed not to emperors and to princes, but to the fisherman and the peasant,—­giving to the lowly and the poor the mission of Revelation.”  Then, turning suddenly to his companions, as his features, singularly varying in their character and expression, brightened, from solemn awe, into a martial and kindling enthusiasm, he cried aloud, “Death to the Tyranny!  Life to the Republic!” The effect of the transition was startling.  Each man, as by an involuntary and irresistible impulse, laid his hand upon his sword, as he echoed the sentiment; some, indeed, drew forth their blades, as if for instant action.

“I have seen enow:  they will break up anon,” said Montreal to himself:  “and I would rather face an army of thousands, than even half-a-dozen enthusiasts, so inflamed,—­and I thus detected.”  And, with this thought, he dropped on the ground, and glided away, as, once again, through the still midnight air, broke upon his ear the muffled shout—­“Death to the tyranny!—­Life to the republic!”

BOOK II.  THE REVOLUTION

     “Ogni Lascivia, ogni male, nulla giustizia, nullo freno. 
     Non c’era piu remedia, ogni persona periva.  Allora Cola di
     Rienzi.” &c.—­“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. i. chap. 2.

     “Every kind of lewdness, every form of evil; no justice, no
     restraint.  Remedy there was none; perdition fell on all. 
     Then Cola di Rienzi,” &c.—­“Life of Cola di Rienzi”.

Chapter 2.I.  The Knight of Provence, and his Proposal.

It was nearly noon as Adrian entered the gates of the palace of Stephen Colonna.  The palaces of the nobles were not then as we see them now, receptacles for the immortal canvas of Italian, and the imperishable sculpture of Grecian Art; but still to this day are retained the massive walls, and barred windows, and spacious courts, which at that time protected their rude retainers.  High above the gates rose a lofty and solid tower, whose height commanded a wide view of the mutilated remains of Rome:  the gate itself was adorned and strengthened on either side by columns of granite, whose Doric capitals betrayed the sacrilege that had torn them from one of the many temples that had formerly crowded the sacred Forum.  From the same spoils came, too, the vast fragments of travertine which made the walls of the outer court.  So common at that day were these barbarous appropriations of the most precious monuments of art, that the columns and domes of earlier Rome were regarded by all classes but as quarries, from which every man was free to gather the materials, whether for his castle or his cottage,—­a wantonness of outrage far greater than the Goths’,