Mr. Carlyle would be delighted with his countrymen.  They are entirely ready and anxious to see a Cromwell for Italy.  They, too, think, when the people starve, “It is no matter what happens in the back parlor.”  What signifies that, if there is “order” in the front?  How dare the people make a noise to disturb us yawning at billiards!

I met an American.  He “had no confidence in the Republic.”  Why?  Because he “had no confidence in the people.”  Why?  Because “they were not like our people.”  Ah!  Jonathan and John,—­excuse me, but I must say the Italian has a decided advantage over you in the power of quickly feeling generous sympathy, as well as some other things which I have not time now to particularize.  I have memoranda from you both in my note-book.

At last the procession mounts the Campidoglio.  It is all dressed with banners.  The tricolor surmounts the palace of the senator; the senator himself has fled.  The deputies mount the steps, and one of them reads, in a clear, friendly voice, the following words:—­

“FUNDAMENTAL DECREE OF THE CONSTITUTIONAL ASSEMBLY OF ROME.

“ART.  I.—­The Papacy has fallen in fact and in right from the temporal government of the Roman State.

“ART.  II.—­The Roman Pontiff shall have all the necessary guaranties for independence in the exercise of his spiritual power.

“ART.  III.—­The form of government of the Roman State shall be a pure democracy, and will take the glorious name of Roman Republic.

“ART.  IV.—­The Roman Republic shall have with the rest of Italy the relations exacted by a common nationality.”

Between each of these expressive sentences the speaker paused; the great bell of the Capitol gave forth its solemn melodies; the cannon answered; while the crowd shouted, Viva la Republica!  Viva Italia!

The imposing grandeur of the spectacle to me gave new force to the emotion that already swelled my heart; my nerves thrilled, and I longed to see in some answering glance a spark of Rienzi, a little of that soul which made my country what she is.  The American at my side remained impassive.  Receiving all his birthright from a triumph of democracy, he was quite indifferent to this manifestation on this consecrated spot.  Passing the winter in Rome to study art, he was insensible to the artistic beauty of the scene,—­insensible to this new life of that spirit from which all the forms he gazes at in galleries emanated.  He “did not see the use of these popular demonstrations.”

Again I must mention a remark of his, as a specimen of the ignorance in which Americans usually remain during their flighty visits to these scenes, where they associate only with one another.  And I do it the rather as this seemed a really thoughtful, intelligent man; no vain, vulgar trifler.  He said, “The people seem only to be looking on; they take no part.”

What people? said I.