for his soldiers and money for his own unbounded luxury by
imposing taxes which the people could not bear. The result was certain
and fatal. The Romans rose against him in a body, and an infuriated
rabble besieged him at the Capitol.

It has been said that the vainest men make the best soldiers. Rienzi was
brave for a moment at the last. Seeing himself surrounded, and deserted
by his servants, he went out upon a balcony and faced the mob alone,
bearing in his hand the great standard of the Republic, and for the last
time he attempted to avert with words the tempest which his deeds had
called forth. But his hour had come, and as he stood there alone he was
stoned and shot at, and an arrow pierced his hand. Broken in nerve by
long intemperance and fanatic excitement, he burst into tears and fled,
refusing the hero's death in which he might still have saved his name
from scorn. He attempted to escape from the other side of the Capitol
towards the Forum, and in the disguise of a street porter he had
descended through a window and had almost escaped notice while the
multitude was breaking down the doors of the main entrance. Then he was
seen and taken, and they brought him in his filthy dress to the great
platform of the Capitol, not knowing what they should do with him and
almost frightened to find their tyrant in their power.

They thronged round him, looked at him, spoke to him, but he answered
nothing; for his hour was come, the star of his nativity was in the
house of death. In that respite, had he been a man, courage might have
awed them, eloquence might have touched them, and he might yet have
dreamed of power. But he was utterly speechless, utterly broken, utterly
afraid. A whole hour passed, and no hand was lifted against him; yet he
spoke not. Then one man, tired of his pale and bloated face, silently
struck a knife into his heart, and as he fell dead, the rabble rushed
upon him and stabbed him to pieces, and a long yell of murderous rage
told all Rome that Rienzi was dead.

They left his body to the dogs and went away to their homes, for it was
evening, and they were spent with madness. Then the Jews came, who hated
him also; and they dragged the miserable corpse through the streets; and
made a bonfire of thistles in a remote place and burned it; and what was
left of the bones and ashes they threw into the Tiber. So perished
Rienzi, a being who was not a man, but a strangely responsive
instrument, upon which vi