And he who should have been by nature a leader of the time became only its spectator.  Yet Adrian endeavoured to console himself for his present passiveness in a conviction of the policy of his conduct.  He who takes no share in the commencement of civil revolutions, can often become, with the most effect, a mediator between the passions and the parties subsequently formed.  Perhaps, under Adrian’s circumstances, delay was really the part of a prudent statesman; the very position which cripples at the first, often gives authority before the end.  Clear from the excesses, and saved from the jealousies, of rival factions, all men are willing to look with complaisance and respect to a new actor in a turbulent drama; his moderation may make him trusted by the people; his rank enable him to be a fitting mediator with the nobles; and thus the qualities that would have rendered him a martyr at one period of the Revolution, raise him perhaps into a saviour at another.

Silent, therefore, and passive, Adrian waited the progress of events.  If the projects of Rienzi failed, he might, by that in activity, the better preserve the people from new chains, and their champion from death.  If those projects succeeded, he might equally save his house from the popular wrath—­and, advocating liberty, check disorder.  Such, at least, were his hopes; and thus did the Italian sagacity and caution of his character control and pacify the enthusiasm of youth and courage.

The sun shone, calm and cloudless, upon the vast concourse gathered before the broad space that surrounds the Church of St. John of Lateran.  Partly by curiosity—­partly by the desire of the Bishop of Orvietto—­partly because it was an occasion in which they could display the pomp of their retinues—­many of the principal Barons of Rome had gathered to this spot.

On one of the steps ascending to the church, with his mantle folded round him, stood Walter de Montreal, gazing on the various parties that, one after another, swept through the lane which the soldiers of the Church preserved unimpeded, in the middle of the crowd, for the access of the principal nobles.  He watched with interest, though with his usual carelessness of air and roving glance, the different marks and looks of welcome given by the populace to the different personages of note.  Banners and penons preceded each Signor, and, as they waved aloft, the witticisms or nicknames—­the brief words of praise or censure, that imply so much—­which passed to and fro among that lively crowd, were treasured carefully in his recollection.

“Make way, there!—­way for my Lord Martino Orsini—­Baron di Porto!”

“Peace, minion!—­draw back! way for the Signor Adrian Colonna, Baron di Castello, and Knight of the Empire.”