treaty rights, displayed the flag of war at Ferrara.
In that case, no doubt, the Pope was the chief diplomatist. But would he
not have been so, likewise, when there was question, not of one city only,
but of many of the greatest cities and best provinces of Italy? It is not
to be supposed, that in these more momentous circumstances he would have
found "the Barbarians" more hard to deal with. Austria, indeed, was so
barbarous as to ignore that exquisite refinement of modern times, which
despises religion and its ministers; and so she would have shown, as of
old, her reverence for the Pontiff, by withdrawing, at his request, her
soldiers from Italian soil.

The Italians, however, did not think so. They would have war, cost what it
would. The people even of the Papal States, whose august Chief could have
conquered without war, were bent on the same fatal purpose. They were
wholly under the influence of the Socialist agitation, and no wiser
counsel could be made to prevail.

It was decided among the popular leaders that the question of war should
be agitated in the greatest assembly which it was possible to gather
together. The Coliseum was appointed as the place of meeting, and it was
destined to present an unwanted spectacle, a grand but ill-omened scene.
All Rome, it may be said, was congregated in the ancient arena, the
favorite tribunes at their head. These demagogues were determined that the
question of war should be settled by acclamation, hoping thus to influence
the Sovereign Pontiff to induce him to abandon his policy of neutrality by
this imposing display of opinion and excitement, by so much popular
enthusiasm, by such intoxication, so to say, of patriotism. At an early
hour the vast arena was already crowded. All orders of the State were
there--Nobles, Burghers, Soldiers, Princes--everybody. Priests even came in
tolerable numbers to swell the crowd, and monks of every order,
ecclesiastics of every college, members of every congregation. Such was
the immense open air assemblage in which the question of the new crusade
was to be solemnly discussed. It would have been a grand and noteworthy
spectacle, had it not been arranged beforehand by skilful leaders who were
adepts in the art of getting up revolutionary displays. In the great
assembly there may have been sincerity. In the chief actors there was
none. Such a spontaneous expression of public sentiment, if really such,
would, indeed, have been imposing--grand.