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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1396 ***
+
+RIENZI,
+
+The Last of the Roman Tribunes
+
+
+by
+
+Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart.
+
+     Then turn we to her latest Tribune’s name,
+     From her ten thousand tyrants turn to thee,
+     Redeemer of dark centuries of shame--
+     The friend of Petrarch--hope of Italy--
+     Rienzi, last of Romans!  While the tree
+     Of Freedom’s wither’d trunk puts forth a leaf,
+     Even for thy tomb a garland let it be--
+     The Forum’s champion, and the People’s chief--
+     Her new-born Numa thou!
+
+     Childe Harold, cant. iv. stanza 114.
+
+
+     Amidst the indulgence of enthusiasm and eloquence, Petrarch,
+     Italy, and Europe, were astonished by a revolution, which
+     realized for a moment his most splendid visions.--Gibbon,
+     chap. 1xx.
+
+
+Dedication of Rienzi.
+
+To Alessandro Manzoni, as to the Genius of the Place,
+
+Are Dedicated These Fruits, gathered on The Soil of Italian Fiction.
+
+London, Dec. 1, 1835.
+
+
+
+Dedication,
+
+Prefixed to the First Collected Edition of the Author’s Works in 1840.
+
+My Dear Mother,
+
+In inscribing with your beloved and honoured name this Collection of my
+Works, I could wish that the fruits of my manhood were worthier of the
+tender and anxious pains bestowed upon my education in youth.
+
+Left yet young, and with no ordinary accomplishments and gifts, the sole
+guardian of your sons, to them you devoted the best years of your useful
+and spotless life; and any success it be their fate to attain in the
+paths they have severally chosen, would have its principal sweetness
+in the thought that such success was the reward of one whose hand aided
+every struggle, and whose heart sympathized in every care.
+
+From your graceful and accomplished taste, I early learned that
+affection for literature which has exercised so large an influence
+over the pursuits of my life; and you who were my first guide, were my
+earliest critic. Do you remember the summer days, which seemed to me
+so short, when you repeated to me those old ballads with which Percy
+revived the decaying spirit of our national muse, or the smooth couplets
+of Pope, or those gentle and polished verses with the composition of
+which you had beguiled your own earlier leisure? It was those easy
+lessons, far more than the harsher rudiments learned subsequently
+in schools, that taught me to admire and to imitate; and in them I
+recognise the germ of the flowers, however perishable they be, that I
+now bind up and lay upon a shrine hallowed by a thousand memories of
+unspeakable affection. Happy, while I borrowed from your taste, could I
+have found it not more difficult to imitate your virtues--your spirit of
+active and extended benevolence, your cheerful piety, your considerate
+justice, your kindly charity--and all the qualities that brighten a
+nature more free from the thought of self, than any it has been my lot
+to meet with. Never more than at this moment did I wish that my writings
+were possessed of a merit which might outlive my time, so that at least
+these lines might remain a record of the excellence of the Mother, and
+the gratitude of the Son.
+
+E.L.B. London: January 6, 1840.
+
+
+
+Preface
+
+to
+
+The First Edition of Rienzi.
+
+I began this tale two years ago at Rome. On removing to Naples, I
+threw it aside for “The Last Days of Pompeii,” which required more
+than “Rienzi” the advantage of residence within reach of the scenes
+described. The fate of the Roman Tribune continued, however, to haunt
+and impress me, and, some time after “Pompeii” was published, I renewed
+my earlier undertaking. I regarded the completion of these volumes,
+indeed, as a kind of duty;--for having had occasion to read the original
+authorities from which modern historians have drawn their accounts of
+the life of Rienzi, I was led to believe that a very remarkable man had
+been superficially judged, and a very important period crudely examined.
+(See Appendix, Nos. I and II.) And this belief was sufficiently strong
+to induce me at first to meditate a more serious work upon the life and
+times of Rienzi. (I have adopted the termination of Rienzi instead of
+Rienzo, as being more familiar to the general reader.--But the latter
+is perhaps the more accurate reading, since the name was a popular
+corruption from Lorenzo.) Various reasons concurred against this
+project--and I renounced the biography to commence the fiction. I have
+still, however, adhered, with a greater fidelity than is customary
+in Romance, to all the leading events of the public life of the Roman
+Tribune; and the Reader will perhaps find in these pages a more full
+and detailed account of the rise and fall of Rienzi, than in any English
+work of which I am aware. I have, it is true, taken a view of his
+character different in some respects from that of Gibbon or Sismondi.
+But it is a view, in all its main features, which I believe (and think I
+could prove) myself to be warranted in taking, not less by the facts of
+History than the laws of Fiction. In the meanwhile, as I have given the
+facts from which I have drawn my interpretation of the principal agent,
+the reader has sufficient data for his own judgment. In the picture of
+the Roman Populace, as in that of the Roman Nobles of the fourteenth
+century, I follow literally the descriptions left to us;--they are not
+flattering, but they are faithful, likenesses.
+
+Preserving generally the real chronology of Rienzi’s life, the plot of
+this work extends over a space of some years, and embraces the variety
+of characters necessary to a true delineation of events. The story,
+therefore, cannot have precisely that order of interest found in
+fictions strictly and genuinely dramatic, in which (to my judgment at
+least) the time ought to be as limited as possible, and the characters
+as few;--no new character of importance to the catastrophe being
+admissible towards the end of the work. If I may use the word Epic in
+its most modest and unassuming acceptation, this Fiction, in short,
+though indulging in dramatic situations, belongs, as a whole, rather to
+the Epic than the Dramatic school.
+
+I cannot conclude without rendering the tribute of my praise and homage
+to the versatile and gifted Author of the beautiful Tragedy of Rienzi.
+Considering that our hero be the same--considering that we had the same
+materials from which to choose our several stories--I trust I shall
+be found to have little, if at all, trespassed upon ground previously
+occupied. With the single exception of a love-intrigue between a
+relative of Rienzi and one of the antagonist party, which makes the
+plot of Miss Mitford’s Tragedy, and is little more than an episode in my
+Romance, having slight effect on the conduct and none on the fate of the
+hero, I am not aware of any resemblance between the two works; and even
+this coincidence I could easily have removed, had I deemed it the least
+advisable:--but it would be almost discreditable if I had nothing that
+resembled a performance possessing so much it were an honour to imitate.
+
+In fact, the prodigal materials of the story--the rich and exuberant
+complexities of Rienzi’s character--joined to the advantage possessed by
+the Novelist of embracing all that the Dramatist must reject (Thus the
+slender space permitted to the Dramatist does not allow Miss Mitford to
+be very faithful to facts; to distinguish between Rienzi’s earlier and
+his later period of power; or to detail the true, but somewhat intricate
+causes of his rise, his splendour, and his fall.)--are sufficient to
+prevent Dramatist and Novelist from interfering with each other.
+
+London, December 1, 1835.
+
+
+Preface to the Present Edition, 1848.
+
+From the time of its first appearance, “Rienzi” has had the good fortune
+to rank high amongst my most popular works--though its interest is
+rather drawn from a faithful narration of historical facts, than from
+the inventions of fancy. And the success of this experiment confirms me
+in my belief, that the true mode of employing history in the service
+of romance, is to study diligently the materials as history; conform to
+such views of the facts as the Author would adopt, if he related them
+in the dry character of historian; and obtain that warmer interest which
+fiction bestows, by tracing the causes of the facts in the characters
+and emotions of the personages of the time. The events of his work are
+thus already shaped to his hand--the characters already created--what
+remains for him, is the inner, not outer, history of man--the chronicle
+of the human heart; and it is by this that he introduces a new harmony
+between character and event, and adds the completer solution of what is
+actual and true, by those speculations of what is natural and probable,
+which are out of the province of history, but belong especially to the
+philosophy of romance. And--if it be permitted the tale-teller to come
+reverently for instruction in his art to the mightiest teacher of all,
+who, whether in the page or on the scene, would give to airy fancies the
+breath and the form of life,--such, we may observe, is the lesson the
+humblest craftsman in historical romance may glean from the Historical
+Plays of Shakespeare. Necessarily, Shakespeare consulted history
+according to the imperfect lights, and from the popular authorities, of
+his age; and I do not say, therefore, that as an historian we can rely
+upon Shakespeare as correct. But to that in which he believed he rigidly
+adhered; nor did he seek, as lesser artists (such as Victor Hugo and his
+disciples) seek now, to turn perforce the Historical into the Poetical,
+but leaving history as he found it, to call forth from its arid prose
+the flower of the latent poem. Nay, even in the more imaginative plays
+which he has founded upon novels and legends popular in his time, it is
+curious and instructive to see how little he has altered the original
+ground-work--taking for granted the main materials of the story, and
+reserving all his matchless resources of wisdom and invention, to
+illustrate from mental analysis, the creations whose outline he was
+content to borrow. He receives, as a literal fact not to be altered,
+the somewhat incredible assertion of the novelist, that the pure and
+delicate and highborn Venetian loves the swarthy Moor--and that Romeo
+fresh from his “woes for Rosaline,” becomes suddenly enamoured of
+Juliet: He found the Improbable, and employed his art to make it
+truthful.
+
+That “Rienzi” should have attracted peculiar attention in Italy, is of
+course to be attributed to the choice of the subject rather than to the
+skill of the Author. It has been translated into the Italian language by
+eminent writers; and the authorities for the new view of Rienzi’s times
+and character which the Author deemed himself warranted to take, have
+been compared with his text by careful critics and illustrious scholars,
+in those states in which the work has been permitted to circulate. (In
+the Papal States, I believe, it was neither, prudently nor effectually,
+proscribed.) I may say, I trust without unworthy pride, that the result
+has confirmed the accuracy of delineations which English readers relying
+only on the brilliant but disparaging account in Gibbon deemed too
+favourable; and has tended to restore the great Tribune to his long
+forgotten claims to the love and reverence of the Italian land. Nor, if
+I may trust to the assurances that have reached me from many now engaged
+in the aim of political regeneration, has the effect of that revival of
+the honours due to a national hero, leading to the ennobling study
+of great examples, been wholly without its influence upon the rising
+generation of Italian youth, and thereby upon those stirring events
+which have recently drawn the eyes of Europe to the men and the lands
+beyond the Alps.
+
+In preparing for the Press this edition of a work illustrative of the
+exertions of a Roman, in advance of his time, for the political freedom
+of his country, and of those struggles between contending principles,
+of which Italy was the most stirring field in the Middle Ages, it is not
+out of place or season to add a few sober words, whether as a student of
+the Italian Past, or as an observer, with some experience of the social
+elements of Italy as it now exists, upon the state of affairs in that
+country.
+
+It is nothing new to see the Papal Church in the capacity of a popular
+reformer, and in contra-position to the despotic potentates of the
+several states, as well as to the German Emperor, who nominally inherits
+the sceptre of the Caesars. Such was its common character under its more
+illustrious Pontiffs; and the old Republics of Italy grew up under the
+shadow of the Papal throne, harbouring ever two factions--the one for
+the Emperor, the one for the Pope--the latter the more naturally
+allied to Italian independence. On the modern stage, we almost see the
+repetition of many an ancient drama. But the past should teach us to
+doubt the continuous and stedfast progress of any single line of policy
+under a principality so constituted as that of the Papal Church--a
+principality in which no race can be perpetuated, in which no objects
+can be permanent; in which the successor is chosen by a select
+ecclesiastical synod, under a variety of foreign as well as of national
+influences; in which the chief usually ascends the throne at an age
+that ill adapts his mind to the idea of human progress, and the active
+direction of mundane affairs;--a principality in which the peculiar
+sanctity that wraps the person of the Sovereign exonerates him from
+the healthful liabilities of a power purely temporal, and directly
+accountable to Man. A reforming Pope is a lucky accident, and dull
+indeed must be the brain which believes in the possibility of a long
+succession of reforming Popes, or which can regard as other than
+precarious and unstable the discordant combination of a constitutional
+government with an infallible head.
+
+It is as true as it is trite that political freedom is not the growth of
+a day--it is not a flower without a stalk, and it must gradually develop
+itself from amidst the unfolding leaves of kindred institutions.
+
+In one respect, the Austrian domination, fairly considered, has been
+beneficial to the States over which it has been directly exercised, and
+may be even said to have unconsciously schooled them to the capacity for
+freedom. In those States the personal rights which depend on impartial
+and incorrupt administration of the law, are infinitely more secure than
+in most of the Courts of Italy. Bribery, which shamefully predominates
+in the judicature of certain Principalities, is as unknown in the
+juridical courts of Austrian Italy as in England. The Emperor himself is
+often involved in legal disputes with a subject, and justice is as
+free and as firm for the humblest suitor, as if his antagonist were his
+equal. Austria, indeed, but holds together the motley and inharmonious
+members of its vast domain on either side the Alps, by a general
+character of paternal mildness and forbearance in all that great
+circle of good government which lies without the one principle of
+constitutional liberty. It asks but of its subjects to submit to be well
+governed--without agitating the question “how and by what means that
+government is carried on.” For every man, except the politician, the
+innovator, Austria is no harsh stepmother. But it is obviously clear
+that the better in other respects the administration of a state it does
+but foster the more the desire for that political security, which is
+only found in constitutional freedom: the reverence paid to personal
+rights, but begets the passion for political; and under a mild despotism
+are already half matured the germs of a popular constitution. But it is
+still a grave question whether Italy is ripe for self-government--and
+whether, were it possible that the Austrian domination could be shaken
+off--the very passions so excited, the very bloodshed so poured forth,
+would not ultimately place the larger portion of Italy under auspices
+less favourable to the sure growth of freedom, than those which silently
+brighten under the sway of the German Caesar.
+
+The two kingdoms, at the opposite extremes of Italy, to which
+circumstance and nature seem to assign the main ascendancy, are Naples
+and Sardinia. Looking to the former, it is impossible to discover on
+the face of the earth a country more adapted for commercial prosperity.
+Nature formed it as the garden of Europe, and the mart of the
+Mediterranean. Its soil and climate could unite the products of the East
+with those of the Western hemisphere. The rich island of Sicily should
+be the great corn granary of the modern nations as it was of the
+ancient; the figs, the olives, the oranges, of both the Sicilies, under
+skilful cultivation, should equal the produce of Spain and the Orient,
+and the harbours of the kingdom (the keys to three-quarters of the
+globe) should be crowded with the sails and busy with the life of
+commerce. But, in the character of its population, Naples has been
+invariably in the rear of Italian progress; it caught but partial
+inspiration from the free Republics, or even the wise Tyrannies, of the
+Middle Ages; the theatre of frequent revolutions without fruit; and
+all rational enthusiasm created by that insurrection, which has lately
+bestowed on Naples the boon of a representative system, cannot but be
+tempered by the conviction that of all the States in Italy, this is the
+one which least warrants the belief of permanence to political freedom,
+or of capacity to retain with vigour what may be seized by passion. (If
+the Electoral Chamber in the new Neapolitan Constitution, give a
+fair share of members to the Island of Sicily, it will be rich in
+the inevitable elements of discord, and nothing save a wisdom and
+moderation, which cannot soberly be anticipated, can prevent the
+ultimate separation of the island from the dominion of Naples. Nature
+has set the ocean between the two countries--but differences in
+character, and degree and quality of civilisation--national jealousies,
+historical memories, have trebled the space of the seas that roll
+between them.--More easy to unite under one free Parliament, Spain
+with Flanders; or re-annex to England its old domains of Aquitaine
+and Normandy--than to unite in one Council Chamber truly popular, the
+passions, interests, and prejudices of Sicily and Naples.--Time will
+show.)
+
+Far otherwise is it, with Sardinia. Many years since, the writer of
+these pages ventured to predict that the time must come when Sardinia
+would lead the van of Italian civilisation, and take proud place amongst
+the greater nations of Europe. In the great portion of this population
+there is visible the new blood of a young race; it is not, as with other
+Italian States, a worn-out stock; you do not see there a people
+fallen, proud of the past, and lazy amidst ruins, but a people rising,
+practical, industrious, active; there, in a word, is an eager youth to
+be formed to mature development, not a decrepit age to be restored to
+bloom and muscle. Progress is the great characteristic of the Sardinian
+state. Leave it for five years; visit it again, and you behold
+improvement. When you enter the kingdom and find, by the very skirts of
+its admirable roads, a raised footpath for the passengers and travellers
+from town to town, you become suddenly aware that you are in a land
+where close attention to the humbler classes is within the duties of
+a government. As you pass on from the more purely Italian part of
+the population,--from the Genoese country into that of Piedmont,--the
+difference between a new people and an old, on which I have dwelt,
+becomes visible in the improved cultivation of the soil, the better
+habitations of the labourer, the neater aspect of the towns, the greater
+activity in the thoroughfares. To the extraordinary virtues of the
+King, as King, justice is scarcely done, whether in England or abroad.
+Certainly, despite his recent concessions, Charles Albert is not and
+cannot be at heart, much of a constitutional reformer; and his strong
+religious tendencies, which, perhaps unjustly, have procured him in
+philosophical quarters the character of a bigot, may link him more than
+his political, with the cause of the Father of his Church. But he is
+nobly and preeminently national, careful of the prosperity and jealous
+of the honour of his own state, while conscientiously desirous of the
+independence of Italy. His attention to business, is indefatigable.
+Nothing escapes his vigilance. Over all departments of the kingdom is
+the eye of a man ever anxious to improve. Already the silk manufactures
+of Sardinia almost rival those of Lyons: in their own departments the
+tradesmen of Turin exhibit an artistic elegance and elaborate finish,
+scarcely exceeded in the wares of London and Paris. The King’s internal
+regulations are admirable; his laws, administered with the most
+impartial justice--his forts and defences are in that order, without
+which, at least on the Continent, no land is safe--his army is the most
+perfect in Italy. His wise genius extends itself to the elegant as to
+the useful arts--an encouragement that shames England, and even France,
+is bestowed upon the School for Painters, which has become one of the
+ornaments of his illustrious reign. The character of the main part of
+the population, and the geographical position of his country, assist the
+monarch and must force on himself, or his successors, in the career
+of improvement so signally begun. In the character of the people, the
+vigour of the Northman ennobles the ardour and fancy of the West. In
+the position of the country, the public mind is brought into constant
+communication with the new ideas in the free lands of Europe.
+Civilisation sets in direct currents towards the streets and marts of
+Turin. Whatever the result of the present crisis in Italy, no power
+and no chance which statesmen can predict, can preclude Sardinia from
+ultimately heading all that is best in Italy. The King may improve his
+present position, or peculiar prejudices, inseparable perhaps from the
+heritage of absolute monarchy, and which the raw and rude councils of
+an Electoral Chamber, newly called into life, must often irritate and
+alarm, may check his own progress towards the master throne of the
+Ausonian land. But the people themselves, sooner or later, will do the
+work of the King. And in now looking round Italy for a race worthy of
+Rienzi, and able to accomplish his proud dreams, I see but one for which
+the time is ripe or ripening, and I place the hopes of Italy in the men
+of Piedmont and Sardinia.
+
+London, February 14, 1848.
+
+
+
+
+RIENZI, The Last of the Tribunes.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK I. -- THE TIME, THE PLACE, AND THE MEN.
+
+“_Fu da sua gioventudine nutricato di latte di eloquenza; buono
+grammatico, megliore rettorico, autorista buono...Oh, come spesso
+diceva, ‘Dove sono questi buoni Romani? Dov’e loro somma giustizia?
+Poterommi trovare in tempo che questi fioriscano?’ Era bell
+‘omo...Accadde che uno suo frate fu ucciso, e non ne fu fatta vendetta
+di sua morte: non lo poteo aiutare; pensa lungo mano vendicare ‘l
+sangue di suo frate; pensa lunga mano dirizzare la cittate di Roma male
+guidata_.”--“Vita di Cola di Rienzi” Ed. 1828. Forli.
+
+“From his youth he was nourished with the milk of eloquence; a good
+grammarian, a better rhetorician, well versed in the writings of
+authors...Oh, how often would he say, ‘Where are those good Romans?
+Where is their supreme justice? Shall I ever behold such times as those
+in which they flourished?’ He was a handsome man...It happened that a
+brother of his was slain, and no retribution was made for his death:
+he could not help him; long did he ponder how to avenge his brother’s
+blood; long did he ponder how to direct the ill guided state of
+Rome.”--“Life of Cola di Rienzi.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.I. The Brothers.
+
+The celebrated name which forms the title to this work will sufficiently
+apprise the reader that it is in the earlier half of the fourteenth
+century that my story opens.
+
+It was on a summer evening that two youths might be seen walking beside
+the banks of the Tiber, not far from that part of its winding course
+which sweeps by the base of Mount Aventine. The path they had selected
+was remote and tranquil. It was only at a distance that were seen the
+scattered and squalid houses that bordered the river, from amidst which
+rose, dark and frequent, the high roof and enormous towers which marked
+the fortified mansion of some Roman baron. On one side of the river,
+behind the cottages of the fishermen, soared Mount Janiculum, dark with
+massive foliage, from which gleamed at frequent intervals, the grey
+walls of many a castellated palace, and the spires and columns of a
+hundred churches; on the other side, the deserted Aventine rose abrupt
+and steep, covered with thick brushwood; while, on the height, from
+concealed but numerous convents, rolled, not unmusically, along the
+quiet landscape and the rippling waves, the sound of the holy bell.
+
+Of the young men introduced in this scene, the elder, who might have
+somewhat passed his twentieth year, was of a tall and even commanding
+stature; and there was that in his presence remarkable and almost noble,
+despite the homeliness of his garb, which consisted of the long, loose
+gown and the plain tunic, both of dark-grey serge, which distinguished,
+at that time, the dress of the humbler scholars who frequented the
+monasteries for such rude knowledge as then yielded a scanty return for
+intense toil. His countenance was handsome, and would have been rather
+gay than thoughtful in its expression, but for that vague and abstracted
+dreaminess of eye which so usually denotes a propensity to revery and
+contemplation, and betrays that the past or the future is more congenial
+to the mind than the enjoyment and action of the present hour.
+
+The younger, who was yet a boy, had nothing striking in his appearance
+or countenance, unless an expression of great sweetness and gentleness
+could be so called; and there was something almost feminine in the
+tender deference with which he appeared to listen to his companion.
+His dress was that usually worn by the humbler classes, though somewhat
+neater, perhaps, and newer; and the fond vanity of a mother might be
+detected in the care with which the long and silky ringlets had been
+smoothed and parted as they escaped from his cap and flowed midway down
+his shoulders.
+
+As they thus sauntered on, beside the whispering reeds of the river,
+each with his arm round the form of his comrade, there was a grace
+in the bearing, in the youth, and in the evident affection of the
+brothers--for such their connexion--which elevated the lowliness of
+their apparent condition.
+
+“Dear brother,” said the elder, “I cannot express to thee how I enjoy
+these evening hours. To you alone I feel as if I were not a mere
+visionary and idler when I talk of the uncertain future, and build up my
+palaces of the air. Our parents listen to me as if I were uttering fine
+things out of a book; and my dear mother, Heaven bless her! wipes her
+eyes, and says, ‘Hark, what a scholar he is!’ As for the monks, if I
+ever dare look from my Livy, and cry ‘Thus should Rome be again!’ they
+stare, and gape, and frown, as though I had broached an heresy. But you,
+sweet brother, though you share not my studies, sympathize so kindly
+with all their results--you seem so to approve my wild schemes, and to
+encourage my ambitious hopes--that sometimes I forget our birth, our
+fortunes, and think and dare as if no blood save that of the Teuton
+Emperor flowed through our veins.”
+
+“Methinks, dear Cola,” said the younger brother, “that Nature played us
+an unfair trick--to you she transmitted the royal soul, derived from
+our father’s parentage; and to me only the quiet and lowly spirit of my
+mother’s humble lineage.”
+
+“Nay,” answered Cola, quickly, “you would then have the brighter
+share,--for I should have but the Barbarian origin, and you the Roman.
+Time was, when to be a simple Roman was to be nobler than a northern
+king.--Well, well, we may live to see great changes!”
+
+“I shall live to see thee a great man, and that will content me,” said
+the younger, smiling affectionately; “a great scholar all confess you
+to be already: our mother predicts your fortunes every time she hears of
+your welcome visits to the Colonna.”
+
+“The Colonna!” said Cola, with a bitter smile; “the Colonna--the
+pedants!--They affect, dull souls, the knowledge of the past, play the
+patron, and misquote Latin over their cups! They are pleased to welcome
+me at their board, because the Roman doctors call me learned, and
+because Nature gave me a wild wit, which to them is pleasanter than the
+stale jests of a hired buffoon. Yes, they would advance my fortunes--but
+how? by some place in the public offices, which would fill a dishonoured
+coffer, by wringing, yet more sternly, the hard-earned coins from our
+famishing citizens! If there be a vile thing in the world, it is a
+plebeian, advanced by patricians, not for the purpose of righting his
+own order, but for playing the pander to the worst interests of theirs.
+He who is of the people but makes himself a traitor to his birth, if he
+furnishes the excuse for these tyrant hypocrites to lift up their hands
+and cry--‘See what liberty exists in Rome, when we, the patricians, thus
+elevate a plebeian!’ Did they ever elevate a plebeian if he sympathized
+with plebeians? No, brother; should I be lifted above our condition, I
+will be raised by the arms of my countrymen, and not upon their necks.”
+
+“All I hope, is, Cola, that you will not, in your zeal for your
+fellow-citizens, forget how dear you are to us. No greatness could ever
+reconcile me to the thought that it brought you danger.”
+
+“And I could laugh at all danger, if it led to greatness. But
+greatness--greatness! Vain dream! Let us keep it for our night sleep.
+Enough of my plans; now, dearest brother, of yours.”
+
+And, with the sanguine and cheerful elasticity which belonged to him,
+the young Cola, dismissing all wilder thoughts, bent his mind to listen,
+and to enter into, the humbler projects of his brother. The new boat and
+the holiday dress, and the cot removed to a quarter more secure from the
+oppression of the barons, and such distant pictures of love as a dark
+eye and a merry lip conjure up to the vague sentiments of a boy;--to
+schemes and aspirations of which such objects made the limit, did the
+scholar listen, with a relaxed brow and a tender smile; and often, in
+later life, did that conversation occur to him, when he shrank from
+asking his own heart which ambition was the wiser.
+
+“And then,” continued the younger brother, “by degrees I might save
+enough to purchase such a vessel as that which we now see, laden,
+doubtless, with corn and merchandise, bringing--oh, such a good
+return--that I could fill your room with books, and never hear you
+complain that you were not rich enough to purchase some crumbling old
+monkish manuscript. Ah, that would make me so happy!” Cola smiled as he
+pressed his brother closer to his breast.
+
+“Dear boy,” said he, “may it rather be mine to provide for your wishes!
+Yet methinks the masters of yon vessel have no enviable possession,
+see how anxiously the men look round, and behind, and before: peaceful
+traders though they be, they fear, it seems, even in this city (once the
+emporium of the civilised world), some pirate in pursuit; and ere the
+voyage be over, they may find that pirate in a Roman noble. Alas, to
+what are we reduced!”
+
+The vessel thus referred to was speeding rapidly down the river, and
+some three or four armed men on deck were indeed intently surveying the
+quiet banks on either side, as if anticipating a foe. The bark soon,
+however, glided out of sight, and the brothers fell back upon those
+themes which require only the future for a text to become attractive to
+the young.
+
+At length, as the evening darkened, they remembered that it was past the
+usual hour in which they returned home, and they began to retrace their
+steps.
+
+“Stay,” said Cola, abruptly, “how our talk has beguiled me! Father
+Uberto promised me a rare manuscript, which the good friar confesses
+hath puzzled the whole convent. I was to seek his cell for it this
+evening. Tarry here a few minutes, it is but half-way up the Aventine. I
+shall soon return.”
+
+“Can I not accompany you?”
+
+“Nay,” returned Cola, with considerate kindness, “you have borne toil
+all the day, and must be wearied; my labours of the body, at least, have
+been light enough. You are delicate, too, and seem fatigued already; the
+rest will refresh you. I shall not be long.”
+
+The boy acquiesced, though he rather wished to accompany his brother;
+but he was of a meek and yielding temper, and seldom resisted the
+lightest command of those he loved. He sat him down on a little bank by
+the river-side, and the firm step and towering form of his brother were
+soon hid from his gaze by the thick and melancholy foliage.
+
+At first he sat very quietly, enjoying the cool air, and thinking over
+all the stories of ancient Rome that his brother had told him in their
+walk. At length he recollected that his little sister, Irene, had begged
+him to bring her home some flowers; and, gathering such as he could find
+at hand (and many a flower grew, wild and clustering, over that desolate
+spot), he again seated himself, and began weaving them into one of those
+garlands for which the southern peasantry still retain their ancient
+affection, and something of their classic skill.
+
+While the boy was thus engaged, the tramp of horses and the loud
+shouting of men were heard at a distance. They came near, and nearer.
+
+“Some baron’s procession, perhaps, returning from a feast,” thought the
+boy. “It will be a pretty sight--their white plumes and scarlet mantles!
+I love to see such sights, but I will just move out of their way.”
+
+So, still mechanically platting his garland, but with eyes turned
+towards the quarter of the expected procession, the young Roman moved
+yet nearer towards the river.
+
+Presently the train came in view,--a gallant company, in truth; horsemen
+in front, riding two abreast, where the path permitted, their steeds
+caparisoned superbly, their plumes waving gaily, and the gleam of their
+corselets glittering through the shades of the dusky twilight. A large
+and miscellaneous crowd, all armed, some with pikes and mail, others
+with less warlike or worse fashioned weapons, followed the cavaliers;
+and high above plume and pike floated the blood-red banner of the
+Orsini, with the motto and device (in which was ostentatiously displayed
+the Guelfic badge of the keys of St. Peter) wrought in burnished gold.
+A momentary fear crossed the boy’s mind, for at that time, and in that
+city, a nobleman begirt with his swordsmen was more dreaded than a wild
+beast by the plebeians; but it was already too late to fly--the train
+were upon him.
+
+“Ho, boy!” cried the leader of the horsemen, Martino di Porto, one of
+the great House of the Orsini; “hast thou seen a boat pass up the
+river?--But thou must have seen it--how long since?”
+
+“I saw a large boat about half an hour ago,” answered the boy, terrified
+by the rough voice and imperious bearing of the cavalier.
+
+“Sailing right a-head, with a green flag at the stern?”
+
+“The same, noble sir.”
+
+“On, then! we will stop her course ere the moon rise,” said the baron.
+“On!--let the boy go with us, lest he prove traitor, and alarm the
+Colonna.”
+
+“An Orsini, an Orsini,” shouted the multitude; “on, on!” and, despite
+the prayers and remonstrances of the boy, he was placed in the
+thickest of the crowd, and borne, or rather dragged along with the
+rest--frightened, breathless, almost weeping, with his poor little
+garland still hanging on his arm, while a sling was thrust into his
+unwilling hand. Still he felt, through all his alarm, a kind of childish
+curiosity to see the result of the pursuit.
+
+By the loud and eager conversation of those about him, he learned that
+the vessel he had seen contained a supply of corn destined to a fortress
+up the river held by the Colonna, then at deadly feud with the Orsini;
+and it was the object of the expedition in which the boy had been thus
+lucklessly entrained to intercept the provision, and divert it to
+the garrison of Martino di Porto. This news somewhat increased his
+consternation, for the boy belonged to a family that claimed the
+patronage of the Colonna.
+
+Anxiously and tearfully he looked with every moment up the steep ascent
+of the Aventine; but his guardian, his protector, still delayed his
+appearance.
+
+They had now proceeded some way, when a winding in the road brought
+suddenly before them the object of their pursuit, as, seen by the light
+of the earliest stars, it scudded rapidly down the stream.
+
+“Now, the Saints be blest!” quoth the chief; “she is ours!”
+
+“Hold!” said a captain (a German) riding next to Martino, in a half
+whisper; “I hear sounds which I like not, by yonder trees--hark! The
+neigh of a horse!--by my faith, too, there is the gleam of a corselet.”
+
+“Push on, my masters,” cried Martino; “the heron shall not balk the
+eagle--push on!”
+
+With renewed shouts, those on foot pushed forward, till, as they had
+nearly gained the copse referred to by the German, a small compact body
+of horsemen, armed cap-a-pie, dashed from amidst the trees, and, with
+spears in their rests, charged into the ranks of the pursuers.
+
+“A Colonna! a Colonna!” “An Orsini! an Orsini!” were shouts loudly
+and fiercely interchanged. Martino di Porto, a man of great bulk and
+ferocity, and his cavaliers, who were chiefly German Mercenaries, met
+the encounter unshaken. “Beware the bear’s hug,” cried the Orsini, as
+down went his antagonist, rider and steed, before his lance.
+
+The contest was short and fierce; the complete armour of the horsemen
+protected them on either side from wounds,--not so unscathed fared the
+half-armed foot-followers of the Orsini, as they pressed, each pushed on
+by the other, against the Colonna. After a shower of stones and darts,
+which fell but as hailstones against the thick mail of the horsemen,
+they closed in, and, by their number, obstructed the movements of the
+steeds, while the spear, sword, and battle-axe of their opponents made
+ruthless havoc amongst their undisciplined ranks. And Martino, who cared
+little how many of his mere mob were butchered, seeing that his foes
+were for the moment embarrassed by the wild rush and gathering circle
+of his foot train (for the place of conflict, though wider than the
+previous road, was confined and narrow), made a sign to some of his
+horsemen, and was about to ride forward towards the boat, now nearly out
+of sight, when a bugle at some distance was answered by one of his enemy
+at hand; and the shout of “Colonna to the rescue!” was echoed afar off.
+A few moments brought in view a numerous train of horse at full speed,
+with the banners of the Colonna waving gallantly in the front.
+
+“A plague on the wizards! who would have imagined they had divined us
+so craftily!” muttered Martino; “we must not abide these odds;” and the
+hand he had first raised for advance, now gave the signal of retreat.
+
+Serried breast to breast and in complete order, the horsemen of Martino
+turned to fly; the foot rabble who had come for spoil remained but for
+slaughter. They endeavoured to imitate their leaders; but how could they
+all elude the rushing chargers and sharp lances of their antagonists,
+whose blood was heated by the affray, and who regarded the lives at
+their mercy as a boy regards the wasp’s nest he destroys. The crowd
+dispersing in all directions,--some, indeed, escaped up the hills, where
+the footing was impracticable to the horses; some plunged into the river
+and swam across to the opposite bank--those less cool or experienced,
+who fled right onwards, served, by clogging the way of their enemy, to
+facilitate the flight of their leaders, but fell themselves, corpse upon
+corpse, butchered in the unrelenting and unresisted pursuit.
+
+“No quarter to the ruffians--every Orsini slain is a robber the
+less--strike for God, the Emperor, and the Colonna!” such were the
+shouts which rung the knell of the dismayed and falling fugitives. Among
+those who fled onward, in the very path most accessible to the cavalry,
+was the young brother of Cola, so innocently mixed with the affray. Fast
+he fled, dizzy with terror--poor boy, scarce before ever parted from his
+parents’ or his brother’s side!--the trees glided past him--the banks
+receded:--on he sped, and fast behind came the tramp of the hoofs--the
+shouts--the curses--the fierce laughter of the foe, as they bounded over
+the dead and the dying in their path. He was now at the spot in which
+his brother had left him; hastily he glanced behind, and saw the couched
+lance and horrent crest of the horseman close at his rear; despairingly
+he looked up, and behold! his brother bursting through the tangled
+brakes that clothed the mountain, and bounding to his succour.
+
+“Save me! save me, brother!” he shrieked aloud, and the shriek reached
+Cola’s ear;--the snort of the fiery charger breathed hot upon him;--a
+moment more, and with one wild shrill cry of “Mercy, mercy” he fell
+to the ground--a corpse: the lance of the pursuer passing through and
+through him, from back to breast, and nailing him on the very sod where
+he had sate, full of young life and careless hope, not an hour ago.
+
+The horseman plucked forth his spear, and passed on in pursuit of
+new victims; his comrades following. Cola had descended,--was on the
+spot,--kneeling by his murdered brother. Presently, to the sound of
+horn and trumpet, came by a nobler company than most of those hitherto
+engaged; who had been, indeed, but the advanced-guard of the Colonna. At
+their head rode a man in years, whose long white hair escaped from his
+plumed cap and mingled with his venerable beard. “How is this?” said the
+chief, reining in his steed, “young Rienzi!”
+
+The youth looked up, as he heard that voice, and then flung himself
+before the steed of the old noble, and, clasping his hands, cried out
+in a scarce articulate tone: “It is my brother, noble Stephen,--a boy,
+a mere child!--the best--the mildest! See how his blood dabbles the
+grass;--back, back--your horse’s hoofs are in the stream! Justice, my
+Lord, justice!--you are a great man.”
+
+“Who slew him? an Orsini, doubtless; you shall have justice.”
+
+“Thanks, thanks,” murmured Rienzi, as he tottered once more to his
+brother’s side, turned the boy’s face from the grass, and strove wildly
+to feel the pulse of his heart; he drew back his hand hastily, for it
+was crimsoned with blood, and lifting that hand on high, shrieked out
+again, “Justice! justice!”
+
+The group round the old Stephen Colonna, hardened as they were in such
+scenes, were affected by the sight. A handsome boy, whose tears ran
+fast down his cheeks, and who rode his palfrey close by the side of the
+Colonna, drew forth his sword. “My Lord,” said he, half sobbing, “an
+Orsini only could have butchered a harmless lad like this; let us lose
+not a moment,--let us on after the ruffians.”
+
+“No, Adrian, no!” cried Stephen, laying his hand on the boy’s shoulder;
+“your zeal is to be lauded, but we must beware an ambush. Our men have
+ventured too far--what, ho, there!--sound a return.”
+
+The bugles, in a few minutes, brought back the pursuers,--among them,
+the horseman whose spear had been so fatally misused. He was the leader
+of those engaged in the conflict with Martino di Porto; and the gold
+wrought into his armour, with the gorgeous trappings of his charger,
+betokened his rank.
+
+“Thanks, my son, thanks,” said the old Colonna to this cavalier, “you
+have done well and bravely. But tell me, knowest thou, for thou hast
+an eagle eye, which of the Orsini slew this poor boy?--a foul deed; his
+family, too, our clients!”
+
+“Who? yon lad?” replied the horseman, lifting the helmet from his
+head, and wiping his heated brow; “say you so! how came he, then, with
+Martino’s rascals? I fear me the mistake hath cost him dear. I could but
+suppose him of the Orsini rabble, and so--and so--”
+
+“You slew him!” cried Rienzi, in a voice of thunder, starting from
+the ground. “Justice! then, my Lord Stephen, justice! you promised me
+justice, and I will have it!”
+
+“My poor youth,” said the old man, compassionately, “you should have had
+justice against the Orsini; but see you not this has been an error? I
+do not wonder you are too grieved to listen to reason now. We must make
+this up to you.”
+
+“And let this pay for masses for the boy’s soul; I grieve me much for
+the accident,” said the younger Colonna, flinging down a purse of gold.
+“Ay, see us at the palace next week, young Cola--next week. My father,
+we had best return towards the boat; its safeguard may require us yet.”
+
+“Right, Gianni; stay, some two of you, and see to the poor lad’s
+corpse;--a grievous accident! how could it chance?”
+
+The company passed back the way they came, two of the common soldiers
+alone remaining, except the boy Adrian, who lingered behind a few
+moments, striving to console Rienzi, who, as one bereft of sense,
+remained motionless, gazing on the proud array as it swept along, and
+muttering to himself, “Justice, justice! I will have it yet.”
+
+The loud voice of the elder Colonna summoned Adrian, reluctantly
+and weeping, away. “Let me be your brother,” said the gallant boy,
+affectionately pressing the scholar’s hand to his heart; “I want a
+brother like you.”
+
+Rienzi made no reply; he did not heed or hear him--dark and stern
+thoughts, thoughts in which were the germ of a mighty revolution, were
+at his heart. He woke from them with a start, as the soldiers were now
+arranging their bucklers so as to make a kind of bier for the corpse,
+and then burst into tears as he fiercely motioned them away, and clasped
+the clay to his breast till he was literally soaked with the oozing
+blood.
+
+The poor child’s garland had not dropped from his arm even when he fell,
+and, entangled by his dress, it still clung around him. It was a sight
+that recalled to Cola all the gentleness, the kind heart, and winning
+graces of his only brother--his only friend! It was a sight that
+seemed to make yet more inhuman the untimely and unmerited fate of that
+innocent boy. “My brother! my brother!” groaned the survivor; “how shall
+I meet our mother?--how shall I meet even night and solitude again?--so
+young, so harmless! See ye, sirs, he was but too gentle. And they will
+not give us justice, because his murderer was a noble and a Colonna.
+And this gold, too--gold for a brother’s blood! Will they not”--and the
+young man’s eyes glared like fire--“will they not give us justice?
+Time shall show!” so saying, he bent his head over the corpse; his lips
+muttered, as with some prayer or invocation; and then rising, his face
+was as pale as the dead beside him,--but it was no longer pale with
+grief!
+
+From that bloody clay, and that inward prayer, Cola di Rienzi rose a new
+being. With his young brother died his own youth. But for that event,
+the future liberator of Rome might have been but a dreamer, a scholar, a
+poet; the peaceful rival of Petrarch; a man of thoughts, not deeds. But
+from that time, all his faculties, energies, fancies, genius, became
+concentrated into a single point; and patriotism, before a vision, leapt
+into the life and vigour of a passion, lastingly kindled, stubbornly
+hardened, and awfully consecrated,--by revenge!
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.II. An Historical Survey--not to Be Passed Over, Except by
+Those Who Dislike to Understand What They Read.
+
+Years had passed away, and the death of the Roman boy, amidst more noble
+and less excusable slaughter, was soon forgotten,--forgotten almost
+by the parents of the slain, in the growing fame and fortunes of their
+eldest son,--forgotten and forgiven never by that son himself.
+But, between that prologue of blood, and the political drama which
+ensues,--between the fading interest, as it were, of a dream, and the
+more busy, actual, and continuous excitements of sterner life,--this may
+be the most fitting time to place before the reader a short and rapid
+outline of the state and circumstances of that city in which the
+principal scenes of this story are laid;--an outline necessary, perhaps,
+to many, for a full comprehension of the motives of the actors, and the
+vicissitudes of the plot.
+
+Despite the miscellaneous and mongrel tribes that had forced their
+settlements in the City of the Caesars, the Roman population retained
+an inordinate notion of their own supremacy over the rest of the world;
+and, degenerated from the iron virtues of the Republic, possessed all
+the insolent and unruly turbulence which characterised the Plebs of the
+ancient Forum. Amongst a ferocious, yet not a brave populace, the
+nobles supported themselves less as sagacious tyrants than as relentless
+banditti. The popes had struggled in vain against these stubborn and
+stern patricians. Their state derided, their command defied, their
+persons publicly outraged, the pontiff-sovereigns of the rest of Europe
+resided, at the Vatican, as prisoners under terror of execution.
+When, thirty-eight years before the date of the events we are about to
+witness, a Frenchman, under the name of Clement V., had ascended the
+chair of St. Peter, the new pope, with more prudence than valour, had
+deserted Rome for the tranquil retreat of Avignon; and the luxurious
+town of a foreign province became the court of the Roman pontiff, and
+the throne of the Christian Church.
+
+Thus deprived of even the nominal check of the papal presence, the power
+of the nobles might be said to have no limits, save their own caprice,
+or their mutual jealousies and feuds. Though arrogating through fabulous
+genealogies their descent from the ancient Romans, they were, in
+reality, for the most part, the sons of the bolder barbarians of the
+North; and, contaminated by the craft of Italy, rather than imbued with
+its national affections, they retained the disdain of their foreign
+ancestors for a conquered soil and a degenerate people. While the rest
+of Italy, especially in Florence, in Venice, and in Milan, was fast and
+far advancing beyond the other states of Europe in civilisation and in
+art, the Romans appeared rather to recede than to improve;--unblest by
+laws, unvisited by art, strangers at once to the chivalry of a warlike,
+and the graces of a peaceful, people. But they still possessed the
+sense and desire of liberty, and, by ferocious paroxysms and desperate
+struggles, sought to vindicate for their city the title it still assumed
+of “the Metropolis of the World.” For the last two centuries they had
+known various revolutions--brief, often bloody, and always unsuccessful.
+Still, there was the empty pageant of a popular form of government. The
+thirteen quarters of the city named each a chief; and the assembly of
+these magistrates, called Caporioni, by theory possessed an authority
+they had neither the power nor the courage to exert. Still there was the
+proud name of Senator; but, at the present time, the office was confined
+to one or to two persons, sometimes elected by the pope, sometimes by
+the nobles. The authority attached to the name seems to have had no
+definite limit; it was that of a stern dictator, or an indolent puppet,
+according as he who held it had the power to enforce the dignity he
+assumed. It was never conceded but to nobles, and it was by the nobles
+that all the outrages were committed. Private enmity alone was gratified
+whenever public justice was invoked: and the vindication of order was
+but the execution of revenge.
+
+Holding their palaces as the castles and fortresses of princes, each
+asserting his own independency of all authority and law, and planting
+fortifications, and claiming principalities in the patrimonial
+territories of the Church, the barons of Rome made their state still
+more secure, and still more odious, by the maintenance of troops of
+foreign (chiefly of German) mercenaries, at once braver in disposition,
+more disciplined in service, and more skilful in arms, than even the
+freest Italians of that time. Thus they united the judicial and the
+military force, not for the protection, but for the ruin of Rome. Of
+these barons, the most powerful were the Orsini and Colonna; their feuds
+were hereditary and incessant, and every day witnessed the fruits of
+their lawless warfare, in bloodshed, in rape, and in conflagration.
+The flattery or the friendship of Petrarch, too credulously believed by
+modern historians, has invested the Colonna, especially of the date now
+entered upon, with an elegance and a dignity not their own. Outrage,
+fraud, and assassination, a sordid avarice in securing lucrative offices
+to themselves, an insolent oppression of their citizens, and the
+most dastardly cringing to power superior to their own (with but few
+exceptions), mark the character of the first family of Rome. But,
+wealthier than the rest of the barons, they were, therefore, more
+luxurious, and, perhaps, more intellectual; and their pride was
+flattered in being patrons of those arts of which they could never
+have become the professors. From these multiplied oppressors the Roman
+citizens turned with fond and impatient regret to their ignorant and
+dark notions of departed liberty and greatness. They confounded the
+times of the Empire with those of the Republic; and often looked to the
+Teutonic king, who obtained his election from beyond the Alps, but his
+title of emperor from the Romans, as the deserter of his legitimate
+trust and proper home; vainly imagining that, if both the Emperor and
+the Pontiff fixed their residence in Rome, Liberty and Law would again
+seek their natural shelter beneath the resuscitated majesty of the Roman
+people.
+
+The absence of the pope and the papal court served greatly to impoverish
+the citizens; and they had suffered yet more visibly by the depredations
+of hordes of robbers, numerous and unsparing, who infested Romagna,
+obstructing all the public ways, and were, sometimes secretly,
+sometimes, openly, protected by the barons, who often recruited their
+banditti garrisons by banditti soldiers.
+
+But besides the lesser and ignobler robbers, there had risen in Italy
+a far more formidable description of freebooters. A German, who assumed
+the lofty title of the Duke Werner, had, a few years prior to the period
+we approach, enlisted and organised a considerable force, styled “The
+Great Company,” with which he besieged cities and invaded states,
+without any object less shameless than that of pillage. His example was
+soon imitated: numerous “Companies,” similarly constituted, devastated
+the distracted and divided land. They appeared, suddenly raised, as if
+by magic, before the walls of a city, and demanded immense sums as the
+purchase of peace. Neither tyrant nor common wealth maintained a force
+sufficient to resist them; and if other northern mercenaries were
+engaged to oppose them, it was only to recruit the standards of the
+freebooters with deserters. Mercenary fought not mercenary--nor German,
+German: and greater pay, and more unbridled rapine, made the tents of
+the “Companies” far more attractive than the regulated stipends of a
+city, or the dull fortress and impoverished coffers of a chief. Werner,
+the most implacable and ferocious of all these adventurers, and who had
+so openly gloried in his enormities as to wear upon his breast a silver
+plate, engraved with the words, “Enemy to God, to Pity, and to Mercy,”
+ had not long since ravaged Romagna with fire and sword. But, whether
+induced by money, or unable to control the fierce spirits he had
+raised, he afterwards led the bulk of his company back to Germany. Small
+detachments, however, remained, scattered throughout the land, waiting
+only an able leader once more to re-unite them: amongst those who
+appeared most fitted for that destiny was Walter de Montreal, a Knight
+of St. John, and gentleman of Provence, whose valour and military genius
+had already, though yet young, raised his name into dreaded celebrity;
+and whose ambition, experience, and sagacity, relieved by certain
+chivalric and noble qualities, were suited to enterprises far greater
+and more important than the violent depredations of the atrocious
+Werner. From these scourges, no state had suffered more grievously than
+Rome. The patrimonial territories of the pope,--in part wrested from him
+by petty tyrants, in part laid waste by these foreign robbers,--yielded
+but a scanty supply to the necessities of Clement VI., the most
+accomplished gentleman and the most graceful voluptuary of his time; and
+the good father had devised a plan, whereby to enrich at once the Romans
+and their pontiff.
+
+Nearly fifty years before the time we enter upon, in order both to
+replenish the papal coffers and pacify the starving Romans, Boniface
+VIII. had instituted the Festival of the Jubilee, or Holy Year; in fact,
+a revival of a Pagan ceremonial. A plenary indulgence was promised
+to every Catholic who, in that year, and in the first year of every
+succeeding century, should visit the churches of St. Peter and St. Paul.
+An immense concourse of pilgrims, from every part of Christendom, had
+attested the wisdom of the invention; “and two priests stood night and
+day, with rakes in their hands, to collect without counting the heaps
+of gold and silver that were poured on the altar of St. Paul.” (Gibbon,
+vol. xii. c. 59.)
+
+It is not to be wondered at that this most lucrative festival should,
+ere the next century was half expired, appear to a discreet pontiff
+to be too long postponed. And both pope and city agreed in thinking it
+might well bear a less distant renewal. Accordingly, Clement VI. had
+proclaimed, under the name of the Mosaic Jubilee, a second Holy Year
+for 1350--viz., three years distant from that date at which, in the
+next chapter, my narrative will commence. This circumstance had a great
+effect in whetting the popular indignation against the barons, and
+preparing the events I shall relate; for the roads were, as I before
+said, infested by the banditti, the creatures and allies of the barons.
+And if the roads were not cleared, the pilgrims might not attend. It
+was the object of the pope’s vicar, Raimond, bishop of Orvietto (bad
+politician and good canonist), to seek, by every means, to remove all
+impediment between the offerings of devotion and the treasury of St.
+Peter.
+
+Such, in brief, was the state of Rome at the period we are about to
+examine. Her ancient mantle of renown still, in the eyes of Italy and of
+Europe, cloaked her ruins. In name, at least, she was still the queen
+of the earth; and from her hands came the crown of the emperor of the
+north, and the keys of the father of the church. Her situation was
+precisely that which presented a vase and glittering triumph to
+bold ambition,--an inspiring, if mournful, spectacle to determined
+patriotism,--and a fitting stage for that more august tragedy which
+seeks its incidents, selects its actors, and shapes its moral, amidst
+the vicissitudes and crimes of nations.
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.III. The Brawl.
+
+On an evening in April, 1347, and in one of those wide spaces in which
+Modern and Ancient Rome seemed blent together--equally desolate and
+equally in ruins--a miscellaneous and indignant populace were assembled.
+That morning the house of a Roman jeweller had been forcibly entered and
+pillaged by the soldiers of Martino di Porto, with a daring effrontery
+which surpassed even the ordinary licence of the barons. The sympathy
+and sensation throughout the city were deep and ominous.
+
+“Never will I submit to this tyranny!”
+
+“Nor I!”
+
+“Nor I!”
+
+“Nor by the bones of St. Peter, will I!”
+
+“And what, my friends, is this tyranny to which you will not submit?”
+ said a young nobleman, addressing himself to the crowd of citizens who,
+heated, angry, half-armed, and with the vehement gestures of Italian
+passion, were now sweeping down the long and narrow street that led to
+the gloomy quarter occupied by the Orsini.
+
+“Ah, my lord!” cried two or three of the citizens in a breath, “you will
+right us--you will see justice done to us--you are a Colonna.”
+
+“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed scornfully one man of gigantic frame, and wielding
+on high a huge hammer, indicative of his trade. “Justice and Colonna!
+body of God! those names are not often found together.”
+
+“Down with him! down with him! he is an Orsinist--down with him!” cried
+at least ten of the throng: but no hand was raised against the giant.
+
+“He speaks the truth,” said a second voice, firmly.
+
+“Ay, that doth he,” said a third, knitting his brows, and unsheathing
+his knife, “and we will abide by it. The Orsini are tyrants--and the
+Colonnas are, at the best, as bad.”
+
+“Thou liest in thy teeth, ruffian!” cried the young noble, advancing
+into the press and confronting the last asperser of the Colonna.
+
+Before the flashing eye and menacing gesture of the cavalier, the worthy
+brawler retreated some steps, so as to leave an open space between the
+towering form of the smith, and the small, slender, but vigorous frame
+of the young noble.
+
+Taught from their birth to despise the courage of the plebeians, even
+while careless of much reputation as to their own, the patricians of
+Rome were not unaccustomed to the rude fellowship of these brawls; nor
+was it unoften that the mere presence of a noble sufficed to scatter
+whole crowds, that had the moment before been breathing vengeance
+against his order and his house.
+
+Waving his hand, therefore, to the smith, and utterly unheeding either
+his brandished weapon or his vast stature, the young Adrian di Castello,
+a distant kinsman of the Colonna, haughtily bade him give way.
+
+“To your homes, friends! and know,” he added, with some dignity, “that
+ye wrong us much, if ye imagine we share the evil-doings of the Orsini,
+or are pandering solely to our own passions in the feud between their
+house and ours. May the Holy Mother so judge me,” continued he, devoutly
+lifting up his eyes, “as I now with truth declare, that it is for your
+wrongs, and for the wrongs of Rome, that I have drawn this sword against
+the Orsini.”
+
+“So say all the tyrants,” rejoined the smith, hardily, as he leant his
+hammer against a fragment of stone--some remnant of ancient Rome--“they
+never fight against each other, but it is for our good. One Colonna cuts
+me the throat of Orsini’s baker--it is for our good! Another Colonna
+seizes on the daughter of Orsini’s tailor--it is for our good! our
+good--yes, for the good of the people! the good of the bakers and
+tailors, eh?”
+
+“Fellow,” said the young nobleman, gravely, “if a Colonna did thus, he
+did wrong; but the holiest cause may have bad supporters.”
+
+“Yes, the holy Church itself is propped on very in different columns,”
+ answered the smith, in a rude witticism on the affection of the pope for
+the Colonna.
+
+“He blasphemes! the smith blasphemes!” cried the partisans of that
+powerful house. “A Colonna, a Colonna!”
+
+“An Orsini, an Orsini!” was no less promptly the counter cry.
+
+“The People!” shouted the smith, waving his formidable weapon far above
+the heads of the group.
+
+In an instant the whole throng, who had at first united against the
+aggression of one man, were divided by the hereditary wrath of faction.
+At the cry of Orsini, several new partisans hurried to the spot; the
+friends of the Colonna drew themselves on one side--the defenders of
+the Orsini on the other--and the few who agreed with the smith that both
+factions were equally odious, and the people was the sole legitimate
+cry in a popular commotion, would have withdrawn themselves from the
+approaching melee, if the smith himself, who was looked upon by them as
+an authority of great influence, had not--whether from resentment at the
+haughty bearing of the young Colonna, or from that appetite of contest
+not uncommon in men of a bulk and force which assure them in all
+personal affrays the lofty pleasure of superiority--if, I say, the smith
+himself had not, after a pause of indecision, retired among the Orsini,
+and entrained, by his example, the alliance of his friends with the
+favourers of that faction.
+
+In popular commotions, each man is whirled along with the herd, often
+half against his own approbation or assent. The few words of peace
+by which Adrian di Castello commenced an address to his friends were
+drowned amidst their shouts. Proud to find in their ranks one of the
+most beloved, and one of the noblest of that name, the partisans of
+the Colonna placed him in their front, and charged impetuously on their
+foes. Adrian, however, who had acquired from circumstances something of
+that chivalrous code which he certainly could not have owed to his Roman
+birth, disdained at first to assault men among whom he recognised no
+equal, either in rank or the practice of arms. He contented himself with
+putting aside the few strokes that were aimed at him in the gathering
+confusion of the conflict--few; for those who recognised him, even
+amidst the bitterest partisans of the Orsini, were not willing to expose
+themselves to the danger and odium of spilling the blood of a man, who,
+in addition to his great birth and the terrible power of his connexions,
+was possessed of a personal popularity, which he owed rather to a
+comparison with the vices of his relatives than to any remarkable
+virtues hitherto displayed by himself. The smith alone, who had as
+yet taken no active part in the fray, seemed to gather himself up in
+determined opposition as the cavalier now advanced within a few steps of
+him.
+
+“Did we not tell thee,” quoth the giant, frowning, “that the Colonna
+were, not less than the Orsini, the foes of the people? Look at thy
+followers and clients: are they not cutting the throats of humble men by
+way of vengeance for the crime of a great one? But that is the way one
+patrician always scourges the insolence of another. He lays the rod on
+the backs of the people, and then cries, ‘See how just I am!’”
+
+“I do not answer thee now,” answered Adrian; “but if thou regrettest
+with me this waste of blood, join with me in attempting to prevent it.”
+
+“I--not I! let the blood of the slaves flow today: the time is fast
+coming when it shall be washed away by the blood of the lords.”
+
+“Away, ruffian!” said Adrian, seeking no further parley, and touching
+the smith with the flat side of his sword. In an instant the hammer of
+the smith swung in the air, and, but for the active spring of the young
+noble, would infallibly have crushed him to the earth. Ere the smith
+could gain time for a second blow, Adrian’s sword passed twice through
+his right arm, and the weapon fell heavily to the ground.
+
+“Slay him, slay him!” cried several of the clients of the Colonna, now
+pressing, dastard-like, round the disarmed and disabled smith.
+
+“Ay, slay him!” said, in tolerable Italian, but with a barbarous accent,
+one man, half-clad in armour, who had but just joined the group, and who
+was one of those wild German bandits whom the Colonna held in their pay;
+“he belongs to a horrible gang of miscreants sworn against all order
+and peace. He is one of Rienzi’s followers, and, bless the Three Kings!
+raves about the People.”
+
+“Thou sayest right, barbarian,” said the sturdy smith, in a loud voice,
+and tearing aside the vest from his breast with his left hand; “come
+all--Colonna and Orsini--dig to this heart with your sharp blades, and
+when you have reached the centre, you will find there the object of your
+common hatred--‘Rienzi and the People!’”
+
+As he uttered these words, in language that would have seemed above his
+station (if a certain glow and exaggeration of phrase and sentiment were
+not common, when excited, to all the Romans), the loudness of his voice
+rose above the noise immediately round him, and stilled, for an instant,
+the general din; and when, at last, the words, “Rienzi and the People”
+ rang forth, they penetrated midway through the increasing crowd, and
+were answered as by an echo, with a hundred voices--“Rienzi and the
+People!”
+
+But whatever impression the words of the mechanic made on others, it was
+equally visible in the young Colonna. At the name of Rienzi the glow
+of excitement vanished from his cheek; he started back, muttered to
+himself, and for a moment seemed, even in the midst of that stirring
+commotion, to be lost in a moody and distant revery. He recovered, as
+the shout died away; and saying to the smith, in a low tone, “Friend, I
+am sorry for thy wound; but seek me on the morrow, and thou shalt find
+thou hast wronged me;” he beckoned to the German to follow him, and
+threaded his way through the crowd, which generally gave back as he
+advanced. For the bitterest hatred to the order of the nobles was at
+that time in Rome mingled with a servile respect for their persons, and
+a mysterious awe of their uncontrollable power.
+
+As Adrian passed through that part of the crowd in which the fray had
+not yet commenced, the murmurs that followed him were not those which
+many of his race could have heard.
+
+“A Colonna,” said one.
+
+“Yet no ravisher,” said another, laughing wildly.
+
+“Nor murtherer,” muttered a third, pressing his hand to his breast.
+“‘Tis not against him that my father’s blood cries aloud.”
+
+“Bless him,” said a fourth, “for as yet no man curses him!”
+
+“Ah, God help us!” said an old man, with a long grey beard, leaning on
+his staff: “The serpent’s young yet; the fangs will show by and by.”
+
+“For shame, father! he is a comely youth, and not proud in the least.
+What a smile he hath!” quoth a fair matron, who kept on the outskirt of
+the melee.
+
+“Farewell to a man’s honour when a noble smiles on his wife!” was the
+answer.
+
+“Nay,” said Luigi, a jolly butcher, with a roguish eye, “what a man
+can win fairly from maid or wife, that let him do, whether plebeian or
+noble--that’s my morality; but when an ugly old patrician finds fair
+words will not win fair looks, and carries me off a dame on the back of
+a German boar, with a stab in the side for comfort to the spouse,--then,
+I say, he is a wicked man, and an adulterer.”
+
+While such were the comments and the murmurs that followed the noble,
+very different were the looks and words that attended the German
+soldier.
+
+Equally, nay, with even greater promptitude, did the crowd make way at
+his armed and heavy tread; but not with looks of reverence:--the eye
+glared as he approached; but the cheek grew pale--the head bowed--the
+lip quivered; each man felt a shudder of hate and fear, as recognizing
+a dread and mortal foe. And well and wrathfully did the fierce
+mercenary note the signs of the general aversion. He pushed on
+rudely--half-smiling in contempt, half-frowning in revenge, as he looked
+from side to side; and his long, matted, light hair, tawny-coloured
+moustache, and brawny front, contrasted strongly with the dark eyes,
+raven locks, and slender frames of the Italians.
+
+“May Lucifer double damn those German cut-throats!” muttered, between
+his grinded teeth, one of the citizens.
+
+“Amen!” answered, heartily, another.
+
+“Hush!” said a third, timorously looking round; “if one of them hear
+thee, thou art a lost man.”
+
+“Oh, Rome! Rome! to what art thou fallen!” said bitterly one citizen,
+clothed in black, and of a higher seeming than the rest; “when thou
+shudderest in thy streets at the tread of a hired barbarian!”
+
+“Hark to one of our learned men, and rich citizens!” said the butcher,
+reverently.
+
+“‘Tis a friend of Rienzi’s,” quoth another of the group, lifting his
+cap.
+
+With downcast eyes, and a face in which grief, shame, and wrath, were
+visibly expressed, Pandulfo di Guido, a citizen of birth and repute,
+swept slowly through the crowd, and disappeared.
+
+Meanwhile, Adrian, having gained a street which, though in the
+neighbourhood of the crowd, was empty and desolate, turned to his fierce
+comrade. “Rodolf!” said he, “mark!--no violence to the citizens. Return
+to the crowd, collect the friends of our house, withdraw them from the
+scene; let not the Colonna be blamed for this day’s violence; and assure
+our followers, in my name, that I swear, by the knighthood I received at
+the Emperor’s hands, that by my sword shall Martino di Porto be punished
+for his outrage. Fain would I, in person, allay the tumult, but my
+presence only seems to sanction it. Go--thou hast weight with them all.”
+
+“Ay, Signor, the weight of blows!” answered the grim soldier. “But the
+command is hard; I would fain let their puddle-blood flow an hour or
+two longer. Yet, pardon me; in obeying thy orders, do I obey those of my
+master, thy kinsman? It is old Stephen Colonna--who seldom spares blood
+or treasure, God bless him--(save his own!)--whose money I hold, and to
+whose hests I am sworn.”
+
+“Diavolo!” muttered the cavalier, and the angry spot was on his cheek;
+but, with the habitual self-control of the Italian nobles, he smothered
+his rising choler, and said aloud, with calmness, but dignity--
+
+“Do as I bid thee; check this tumult--make us the forbearing party.
+Let all be still within one hour hence, and call on me tomorrow for thy
+reward; be this purse an earnest of my future thanks. As for my kinsman,
+whom I command thee to name more reverently, ‘tis in his name I speak.
+Hark! the din increases--the contest swells--go--lose not another
+moment.”
+
+Somewhat awed by the quiet firmness of the patrician, Rodolf nodded,
+without answer, slid the money into his bosom, and stalked away into the
+thickest of the throng. But, even ere he arrived, a sudden reaction had
+taken place.
+
+The young cavalier, left alone in that spot, followed with his eyes the
+receding form of the mercenary, as the sun, now setting, shone slant
+upon his glittering casque, and said bitterly to himself--“Unfortunate
+city, fountain of all mighty memories--fallen queen of a thousand
+nations--how art thou decrowned and spoiled by thy recreant and apostate
+children! Thy nobles divided against themselves--thy people cursing thy
+nobles--thy priests, who should sow peace, planting discord--the father
+of thy church deserting thy stately walls, his home a refuge, his mitre
+a fief, his court a Gallic village--and we! we, of the haughtiest
+blood of Rome--we, the sons of Caesars, and of the lineage of demigods,
+guarding an insolent and abhorred state by the swords of hirelings, who
+mock our cowardice while they receive our pay--who keep our citizens
+slaves, and lord it over their very masters in return! Oh, that we, the
+hereditary chiefs of Rome, could but feel--oh, that we could but find,
+our only legitimate safeguard in the grateful hearts of our countrymen!”
+
+So deeply did the young Adrian feel the galling truth of all he uttered,
+that the indignant tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke. He felt no
+shame as he dashed them away; for that weakness which weeps for a fallen
+race, is the tenderness not of women but of angels.
+
+As he turned slowly to quit the spot, his steps were suddenly arrested
+by a loud shout: “Rienzi! Rienzi!” smote the air. From the walls of the
+Capitol to the bed of the glittering Tiber, that name echoed far and
+wide; and, as the shout died away, it was swallowed up in a silence so
+profound, so universal, so breathless, that you might have imagined that
+death itself had fallen over the city. And now, at the extreme end of
+the crowd, and elevated above their level, on vast fragments of stone
+which had been dragged from the ruins of Rome in one of the late
+frequent tumults between contending factions, to serve as a barricade
+for citizens against citizens,--on these silent memorials of the past
+grandeur, the present misery, of Rome, stood that extraordinary man,
+who, above all his race, was the most penetrated with the glories of the
+one time, with the degradation of the other.
+
+From the distance at which he stood from the scene, Adrian could only
+distinguish the dark outline of Rienzi’s form; he could only hear the
+faint sound of his mighty voice; he could only perceive, in the subdued
+yet waving sea of human beings that spread around, their heads bared
+in the last rays of the sun, the unutterable effect which an eloquence,
+described by contemporaries almost as miraculous,--but in reality
+less so from the genius of the man than the sympathy of the
+audience,--created in all, who drank into their hearts and souls the
+stream of its burning thoughts.
+
+It was but for a short time that that form was visible to the earnest
+eye, that that voice at intervals reached the straining ear, of Adrian
+di Castello; but that time sufficed to produce all the effect which
+Adrian himself had desired.
+
+Another shout, more earnest, more prolonged than the first--a shout,
+in which spoke the release of swelling thoughts, of intense
+excitement--betokened the close of the harangue; and then you might
+see, after a minute’s pause, the crowd breaking in all directions, and
+pouring down the avenues in various knots and groups, each testifying
+the strong and lasting impression made upon the multitude by that
+address. Every cheek was flushed--every tongue spoke: the animation of
+the orator had passed, like a living spirit, into the breasts of the
+audience. He had thundered against the disorders of the patricians, yet,
+by a word, he had disarmed the anger of the plebeians--he had preached
+freedom, yet he had opposed licence. He had calmed the present, by a
+promise of the future. He had chid their quarrels, yet had supported
+their cause. He had mastered the revenge of today, by a solemn assurance
+that there should come justice for the morrow. So great may be the
+power, so mighty the eloquence, so formidable the genius, of one
+man,--without arms, without rank, without sword or ermine, who addresses
+himself to a people that is oppressed!
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.IV. An Adventure.
+
+Avoiding the broken streams of the dispersed crowd, Adrian Colonna
+strode rapidly down one of the narrow streets leading to his palace,
+which was situated at no inconsiderable distance from the place in which
+the late contest had occurred. The education of his life made him feel
+a profound interest, not only in the divisions and disputes of his
+country, but also in the scene he had just witnessed, and the authority
+exercised by Rienzi.
+
+An orphan of a younger, but opulent branch of the Colonna, Adrian had
+been brought up under the care and guardianship of his kinsman, that
+astute, yet valiant Stephen Colonna, who, of all the nobles of Rome, was
+the most powerful, alike from the favour of the pope, and the number
+of armed hirelings whom his wealth enabled him to maintain. Adrian
+had early manifested what in that age was considered an extraordinary
+disposition towards intellectual pursuits, and had acquired much of
+the little that was then known of the ancient language and the ancient
+history of his country.
+
+Though Adrian was but a boy at the time in which, first presented to the
+reader, he witnessed the emotions of Rienzi at the death of his brother,
+his kind heart had been penetrated with sympathy for Cola’s affliction,
+and shame for the apathy of his kinsmen at the result of their own
+feuds. He had earnestly sought the friendship of Rienzi, and, despite
+his years, had become aware of the power and energy of his character.
+But though Rienzi, after a short time, had appeared to think no more of
+his brother’s death--though he again entered the halls of the Colonna,
+and shared their disdainful hospitalities, he maintained a certain
+distance and reserve of manner, which even Adrian could only partially
+overcome. He rejected every offer of service, favour, or promotion; and
+any unwonted proof of kindness from Adrian seemed, instead of making him
+more familiar, to offend him into colder distance. The easy humour and
+conversational vivacity which had first rendered him a welcome guest
+with those who passed their lives between fighting and feasting, had
+changed into a vein ironical, cynical, and severe. But the dull barons
+were equally amused at his wit, and Adrian was almost the only one who
+detected the serpent couched beneath the smile.
+
+Often Rienzi sat at the feast, silent, but observant, as if watching
+every look, weighing every word, taking gauge and measurement of the
+intellect, policy, temperament, of every guest; and when he had seemed
+to satisfy himself, his spirits would rise, his words flow, and
+while his dazzling but bitter wit lit up the revel, none saw that the
+unmirthful flash was the token of the coming storm. But all the while,
+he neglected no occasion to mix with the humbler citizens, to stir up
+their minds, to inflame their imaginations, to kindle their emulation,
+with pictures of the present and with legends of the past. He grew in
+popularity and repute, and was yet more in power with the herd, because
+in favour with the nobles. Perhaps it was for that reason that he had
+continued the guest of the Colonna.
+
+When, six years before the present date, the Capitol of the Caesars
+witnessed the triumph of Petrarch, the scholastic fame of the young
+Rienzi had attracted the friendship of the poet,--a friendship that
+continued, with slight interruption, to the last, through careers
+so widely different; and afterwards, one among the Roman Deputies to
+Avignon, he had been conjoined with Petrarch (According to the modern
+historians; but it seems more probable that Rienzi’s mission to Avignon
+was posterior to that of Petrarch. However this be, it was at Avignon
+that Petrarch and Rienzi became most intimate, as Petrarch himself
+observes in one of his letters.) to supplicate Clement VI. to remove
+the Holy See from Avignon to Rome. It was in this mission that, for
+the first time, he evinced his extraordinary powers of eloquence and
+persuasion. The pontiff, indeed, more desirous of ease than glory, was
+not convinced by the arguments, but he was enchanted with the pleader;
+and Rienzi returned to Rome, loaded with honours, and clothed with the
+dignity of high and responsible office. No longer the inactive scholar,
+the gay companion, he rose at once to pre-eminence above all his
+fellow-citizens. Never before had authority been borne with so austere
+an integrity, so uncorrupt a zeal. He had sought to impregnate his
+colleagues with the same loftiness of principle--he had failed. Now
+secure in his footing, he had begun openly to appeal to the people; and
+already a new spirit seemed to animate the populace of Rome.
+
+While these were the fortunes of Rienzi, Adrian had been long separated
+from him, and absent from Rome.
+
+The Colonna were staunch supporters of the imperial party, and Adrian di
+Castello had received and obeyed an invitation to the Emperor’s court.
+Under that monarch he had initiated himself in arms, and, among the
+knights of Germany, he had learned to temper the natural Italian
+shrewdness with the chivalry of northern valour.
+
+In leaving Bavaria, he had sojourned a short time in the solitude of one
+of his estates by the fairest lake of northern Italy; and thence, with
+a mind improved alike by action and study, had visited many of the free
+Italian states, imbibed sentiments less prejudiced than those of his
+order, and acquired an early reputation for himself while inly marking
+the characters and deeds of others. In him, the best qualities of the
+Italian noble were united. Passionately addicted to the cultivation
+of letters, subtle and profound in policy, gentle and bland of manner,
+dignifying a love of pleasure with a certain elevation of taste, he yet
+possessed a gallantry of conduct, and purity of honour, and an
+aversion from cruelty, which were then very rarely found in the Italian
+temperament, and which even the Chivalry of the North, while maintaining
+among themselves, usually abandoned the moment they came into contact
+with the systematic craft and disdain of honesty, which made the
+character of the ferocious, yet wily, South. With these qualities he
+combined, indeed, the softer passions of his countrymen,--he adored
+Beauty, and he made a deity of Love.
+
+He had but a few weeks returned to his native city, whither his
+reputation had already preceded him, and where his early affection for
+letters and gentleness of bearing were still remembered. He returned to
+find the position of Rienzi far more altered than his own. Adrian had
+not yet sought the scholar. He wished first to judge with his own eyes,
+and at a distance, of the motives and object of his conduct; for partly
+he caught the suspicions which his own order entertained of Rienzi, and
+partly he shared in the trustful enthusiasm of the people.
+
+“Certainly,” said he now to himself, as he walked musingly onward,
+“certainly, no man has it more in his power to reform our diseased
+state, to heal our divisions, to awaken our citizens to the
+recollections of ancestral virtue. But that very power, how dangerous
+is it! Have I not seen, in the free states of Italy, men, called into
+authority for the sake of preserving the people, honest themselves at
+first, and then, drunk with the sudden rank, betraying the very cause
+which had exalted them? True, those men were chiefs and nobles; but are
+plebeians less human? Howbeit I have heard and seen enough from afar,--I
+will now approach, and examine the man himself.”
+
+While thus soliloquizing, Adrian but little noted the various
+passengers, who, more and more rarely as the evening waned, hastened
+homeward. Among these were two females, who now alone shared with Adrian
+the long and gloomy street into which he had entered. The moon was
+already bright in the heavens, and, as the women passed the cavalier
+with a light and quick step, the younger one turned back and regarded
+him by the clear light with an eager, yet timid glance.
+
+“Why dost thou tremble, my pretty one!” said her companion, who might
+have told some five-and-forty years, and whose garb and voice bespoke
+her of inferior rank to the younger female. “The streets seem quiet
+enough now, and, the Virgin be praised! we are not so far from home
+either.”
+
+“Oh, Benedetta, it is he! it is the young signor--it is Adrian!”
+
+“That is fortunate,” said the nurse, for such was her condition, “since
+they say he is as bold as a Northman: and as the Palazzo Colonna is not
+very far from hence, we shall be within reach of his aid should we want
+it: that is to say, sweet one, if you will walk a little slower than you
+have yet done.”
+
+The young lady slackened her pace, and sighed.
+
+“He is certainly very handsome,” quoth the nurse: “but thou must not
+think more of him; he is too far above thee for marriage, and for aught
+else, thou art too honest, and thy brother too proud--”
+
+“And thou, Benedetta, art too quick with thy tongue. How canst thou talk
+thus, when thou knowest he hath never, since, at least, I was a mere
+child, even addressed me: nay, he scarce knows of my very existence. He,
+the Lord Adrian di Castello, dream of the poor Irene! The mere thought
+is madness!”
+
+“Then why,” said the nurse, briskly, “dost thou dream of him?”
+
+Her companion sighed again more deeply than at first.
+
+“Holy St. Catherine!” continued Benedetta, “if there were but one man in
+the world, I would die single ere I would think of him, until, at least,
+he had kissed my hand twice, and left it my own fault if it were not my
+lips instead.”
+
+The young lady still replied not.
+
+“But how didst thou contrive to love him?” asked the nurse. “Thou canst
+not have seen him very often: it is but some four or five weeks since
+his return to Rome.”
+
+“Oh, how dull art thou?” answered the fair Irene. “Have I not told thee
+again and again, that I loved him six years ago?”
+
+“When thou hadst told but thy tenth year, and a doll would have been thy
+most suitable lover! As I am a Christian, Signora, thou hast made good
+use of thy time.
+
+“And during his absence,” continued the girl, fondly, yet sadly, “did
+I not hear him spoken of, and was not the mere sound of his name like a
+love-gift that bade me remember? And when they praised him, have I not
+rejoiced? and when they blamed him, have I not resented? and when they
+said that his lance was victorious in the tourney, did I not weep with
+pride? and when they whispered that his vows were welcome in the bower,
+wept I not as fervently with grief? Have not the six years of his
+absence been a dream, and was not his return a waking into light--a
+morning of glory and the sun? and I see him now in the church when he
+wots not of me; and on his happy steed as he passes by my lattice: and
+is not that enough of happiness for love?”
+
+“But if he loves not thee?”
+
+“Fool! I ask not that;--nay, I know not if I wish it. Perhaps I would
+rather dream of him, such as I would have him, than know him for what
+he is. He might be unkind, or ungenerous, or love me but little; rather
+would I not be loved at all, than loved coldly, and eat away my heart by
+comparing it with his. I can love him now as something abstract, unreal,
+and divine: but what would be my shame, my grief, if I were to find him
+less than I have imagined! Then, indeed, my life would have been wasted;
+then, indeed, the beauty of the earth would be gone!”
+
+The good nurse was not very capable of sympathizing with sentiments like
+these. Even had their characters been more alike, their disparity of age
+would have rendered such sympathy impossible. What but youth can echo
+back the soul of youth--all the music of its wild vanities and romantic
+follies? The good nurse did not sympathize with the sentiments of her
+young lady, but she sympathised with the deep earnestness with which
+they were expressed. She thought it wondrous silly, but wondrous moving;
+she wiped her eyes with the corner of her veil, and hoped in her secret
+heart that her young charge would soon get a real husband to put such
+unsubstantial fantasies out of her head. There was a short pause in
+their conversation, when, just where two streets crossed one another,
+there was heard a loud noise of laughing voices and trampling feet.
+Torches were seen on high affronting the pale light of the moon; and,
+at a very short distance from the two females, in the cross street,
+advanced a company of seven or eight men, bearing, as seen by the red
+light of the torches, the formidable badge of the Orsini.
+
+Amidst the other disorders of the time, it was no unfrequent custom
+for the younger or more dissolute of the nobles, in small and armed
+companies, to parade the streets at night, seeking occasion for a
+licentious gallantry among the cowering citizens, or a skirmish at arms
+with some rival stragglers of their own order. Such a band had Irene and
+her companion now chanced to encounter.
+
+“Holy mother!” cried Benedetta, turning pale, and half running, “what
+curse has befallen us? How could we have been so foolish as to tarry so
+late at the lady Nina’s! Run, Signora,--run, or we shall fall into their
+hands!”
+
+But the advice of Benedetta came too late,--the fluttering garments
+of the women had been already descried: in a moment more they were
+surrounded by the marauders. A rude hand tore aside Benedetta’s veil,
+and at sight of features, which, if time had not spared, it could never
+very materially injure, the rough aggressor cast the poor nurse against
+the wall with a curse, which was echoed by a loud laugh from his
+comrades.
+
+“Thou hast a fine fortune in faces Giuseppe!”
+
+“Yes; it was but the other day that he seized on a girl of sixty.”
+
+“And then, by way of improving her beauty, cut her across the face with
+his dagger, because she was not sixteen!”
+
+“Hush, fellows! whom have we here?” said the chief of the party, a man
+richly dressed, and who, though bordering upon middle age, had only
+the more accustomed himself to the excesses of youth; as he spoke,
+he snatched the trembling Irene from the grasp of his followers. “Ho,
+there! the torches! Oh che bella faccia! what blushes--what eyes!--nay,
+look not down, pretty one; thou needst not be ashamed to win the love
+of an Orsini--yes; know the triumph thou hast achieved--it is Martino di
+Porto who bids thee smile upon him!”
+
+“For the blest Mother’s sake release me! Nay, sir, this must not be--I
+am not unfriended--this insult shall not pass!”
+
+“Hark to her silver chiding; it is better than my best hound’s bay!
+This adventure is worth a month’s watching. What! will you not
+come?--restive--shrieks too!--Francesco, Pietro, ye are the gentlest of
+the band. Wrap her veil around her,--muffle this music;--so! bear her
+before me to the palace, and tomorrow, sweet one, thou shalt go home
+with a basket of florins which thou mayest say thou hast bought at
+market.”
+
+But Irene’s shrieks, Irene’s struggles, had already brought succour to
+her side, and, as Adrian approached the spot, the nurse flung herself on
+her knees before him.
+
+“Oh, sweet signor, for Christ’s grace save us! Deliver my young
+mistress--her friends love you well! We are all for the Colonna,
+my lord; yes, indeed, all for the Colonna! Save the kin of your own
+clients, gracious signor!”
+
+“It is enough that she is a woman,” answered Adrian, adding, between his
+teeth, “and that an Orsini is her assailant.” He strode haughtily into
+the thickest of the group; the servitors laid hands on their swords, but
+gave way before him as they recognised his person; he reached the two
+men who had already seized Irene; in one moment he struck the foremost
+to the ground, in another, he had passed his left arm round the light
+and slender form of the maiden, and stood confronting the Orsini with
+his drawn blade, which, however, he pointed to the ground.
+
+“For shame, my lord--for shame!” said he, indignantly. “Will you force
+Rome to rise, to a man, against our order? Vex not too far the lion,
+chained though he be; war against us if ye will! draw your blades upon
+men, though they be of your own race, and speak your own tongue: but
+if ye would sleep at nights, and not dread the avenger’s gripe,--if ye
+would walk the market-place secure,--wrong not a Roman woman! Yes, the
+very walls around us preach to you the punishment of such a deed: for
+that offence fell the Tarquins,--for that offence were swept away the
+Decemvirs,--for that offence, if ye rush upon it, the blood of your
+whole house may flow like water. Cease, then, my lord, from this mad
+attempt, so unworthy your great name; cease, and thank even a Colonna
+that he has come between you and a moment’s frenzy!”
+
+So noble, so lofty were the air and gesture of Adrian, as he thus
+spoke, that even the rude servitors felt a thrill of approbation and
+remorse--not so Martino di Porto. He had been struck with the beauty of
+the prey thus suddenly snatched from him; he had been accustomed to
+long outrage and to long impunity; the very sight, the very voice of a
+Colonna, was a blight to his eye and a discord to his ear: what, then,
+when a Colonna interfered with his lusts, and rebuked his vices?
+
+“Pedant!” he cried, with quivering lips, “prate not to me of thy vain
+legends and gossip’s tales! think not to snatch from me my possession
+in another, when thine own life is in my hands. Unhand the maiden! throw
+down thy sword! return home without further parley, or, by my faith, and
+the blades of my followers--(look at them well!)--thou diest!”
+
+“Signor,” said Adrian, calmly, yet while he spoke he retreated gradually
+with his fair burthen towards the neighbouring wall, so as at least to
+leave only his front exposed to those fearful odds: “Thou will not so
+misuse the present chances, and wrong thyself in men’s mouths, as to
+attack with eight swords even thy hereditary foe, thus cumbered, too, as
+he is. But--nay hold!--if thou art so proposed, bethink thee well, one
+cry of my voice would soon turn the odds against thee. Thou art now in
+the quarter of my tribe; thou art surrounded by the habitations of the
+Colonna: yon palace swarms with men who sleep not, save with harness
+on their backs; men whom my voice can reach even now, but from whom, if
+they once taste of blood, it could not save thee!”
+
+“He speaks true, noble Lord,” said one of the band: “we have wandered
+too far out of our beat; we are in their very den; the palace of old
+Stephen Colonna is within call; and, to my knowledge,” added he, in
+a whisper, “eighteen fresh men-of-arms--ay, and Northmen too--marched
+through its gates this day.”
+
+“Were there eight hundred men at arm’s length,” answered Martino
+furiously, “I would not be thus bearded amidst mine own train! Away with
+yon woman! To the attack! to the attack!”
+
+Thus saying, he made a desperate lunge at Adrian, who, having kept his
+eye cautiously on the movements of his enemy, was not unprepared for the
+assault. As he put aside the blade with his own, he shouted with a loud
+voice--“Colonna! to the rescue, Colonna!”
+
+Nor had it been without an ulterior object that the acute and
+self-controlling mind of Adrian had hitherto sought to prolong the
+parley. Even as he first addressed Orsini, he had perceived, by the
+moonlight, the glitter of armour upon two men advancing from the far end
+of the street, and judged at once, by the neighbourhood, that they must
+be among the mercenaries of the Colonna.
+
+Gently he suffered the form of Irene, which now, for she had swooned
+with the terror, pressed too heavily upon him, to slide from his left
+arm, and standing over her form, while sheltered from behind by the wall
+which he had so warily gained, he contented himself with parrying the
+blows hastily aimed at him, without attempting to retaliate. Few of the
+Romans, however accustomed to such desultory warfare, were then well
+and dexterously practised in the use of arms; and the science Adrian had
+acquired in the schools of the martial north, befriended him now, even
+against such odds. It is true, indeed, that the followers of Orsini did
+not share the fury of their lord; partly afraid of the consequence to
+themselves should the blood of so highborn a signor be spilt by their
+hands, partly embarrassed with the apprehension that they should see
+themselves suddenly beset with the ruthless hirelings so close within
+hearing, they struck but aimless and random blows, looking every moment
+behind and aside, and rather prepared for flight than slaughter. Echoing
+the cry of “Colonna,” poor Benedetta fled at the first clash of swords.
+She ran down the dreary street still shrieking that cry, and passed the
+very portals of Stephen’s palace (where some grim forms yet loitered)
+without arresting her steps there, so great were her confusion and
+terror.
+
+Meanwhile, the two armed men, whom Adrian had descried, proceeded
+leisurely up the street. The one was of a rude and common mould, his
+arms and his complexion testified his calling and race; and by the great
+respect he paid to his companion, it was evident that that companion was
+no native of Italy. For the brigands of the north, while they served the
+vices of the southern, scarce affected to disguise their contempt for
+his cowardice.
+
+The companion of the brigand was a man of a martial, yet easy air. He
+wore no helmet, but a cap of crimson velvet, set off with a white plume;
+on his mantle, or surcoat, which was of scarlet, was wrought a broad
+white cross, both at back and breast; and so brilliant was the polish
+of his corselet, that, as from time to time the mantle waved aside and
+exposed it to the moonbeams, it glittered like light itself.
+
+“Nay, Rodolf,” said he, “if thou hast so good a lot of it here with that
+hoary schemer, Heaven forbid that I should wish to draw thee back again
+to our merry band. But tell me--this Rienzi--thinkest thou he has any
+solid and formidable power?”
+
+“Pshaw! noble chieftain, not a whit of it. He pleases the mob; but as
+for the nobles, they laugh at him; and, as for the soldiers, he has no
+money!”
+
+“He pleases the mob, then!”
+
+“Ay, that doth he; and when he speaks aloud to them, all the roar of
+Rome is hushed.”
+
+“Humph!--when nobles are hated, and soldiers are bought, a mob may, in
+any hour, become the master. An honest people and a weak mob,--a corrupt
+people and a strong mob,” said the other, rather to himself than to
+his comrade, and scarce, perhaps, conscious of the eternal truth of his
+aphorism. “He is no mere brawler, this Rienzi, I suspect--I must see to
+it. Hark! what noise is that? By the Holy Sepulchre, it is the ring of
+our own metal!”
+
+“And that cry--‘a Colonna!’” exclaimed Rodolf. “Pardon me, master,--I
+must away to the rescue!”
+
+“Ay, it is the duty of thy hire; run;--yet stay, I will accompany thee,
+gratis for once, and from pure passion for mischief. By this hand, there
+is no music like clashing steel!”
+
+Still Adrian continued gallantly and unwounded to defend himself, though
+his arm now grew tired, his breath well-nigh spent, and his eyes began
+to wink and reel beneath the glare of the tossing torches. Orsini
+himself, exhausted by his fury, had paused for an instant, fronting
+his foe with a heaving breast and savage looks, when, suddenly,
+his followers exclaimed, “Fly! fly!--the bandits approach--we are
+surrounded!”--and two of the servitors, without further parley, took
+fairly to their heels. The other five remained irresolute, and waiting
+but the command of their master, when he of the white plume, whom I have
+just described, thrust himself into the melee.
+
+“What! gentles,” said he, “have ye finished already? Nay, let us not
+mar the sport; begin again, I beseech you. What are the odds? Ho! six
+to one!--nay, no wonder that ye have waited for fairer play. See, we two
+will take the weaker side. Now then, let us begin again.”
+
+“Insolent!” cried the Orsini. “Knowest thou him whom thou addressest
+thus arrogantly?--I am Martino di Porto. Who art thou?”
+
+“Walter de Montreal, gentleman of Provence, and Knight of St. John!”
+ answered the other, carelessly.
+
+At that redoubted name--the name of one of the boldest warriors, and of
+the most accomplished freebooter of his time--even Martino’s cheek grew
+pale, and his followers uttered a cry of terror.
+
+“And this, my comrade,” continued the Knight, “for we may as well
+complete the introduction, is probably better known to you than I am,
+gentles of Rome; and you doubtless recognize in him Rodolf of Saxony, a
+brave man and a true, where he is properly paid for his services.”
+
+“Signor,” said Adrian to his enemy, who, aghast and dumb, remained
+staring vacantly at the two new-comers, “you are now in my power. See,
+our own people, too, are approaching.”
+
+And, indeed, from the palace of Stephen Colonna, torches began to blaze,
+and armed men were seen rapidly advancing to the spot.
+
+“Go home in peace, and if, tomorrow, or any day more suitable to thee,
+thou wilt meet me alone, and lance to lance, as is the wont of the
+knights of the empire; or with band to band, and man for man, as is
+rather the Roman custom; I will not fail thee--there is my gage.”
+
+“Nobly spoken,” said Montreal; “and, if ye choose the latter, by your
+leave, I will be one of the party.”
+
+Martino answered not; he took up the glove, thrust it in his bosom, and
+strode hastily away; only, when he had got some paces down the street,
+he turned back, and, shaking his clenched hand at Adrian, exclaimed, in
+a voice trembling with impotent rage--“Faithful to death!”
+
+The words made one of the mottoes of the Orsini; and, whatever its
+earlier signification, had long passed into a current proverb, to
+signify their hatred to the Colonna.
+
+Adrian, now engaged in raising, and attempting to revive Irene, who was
+still insensible, disdainfully left it to Montreal to reply.
+
+“I doubt not, Signor,” said the latter, coolly, “that thou wilt be
+faithful to Death: for Death, God wot, is the only contract which men,
+however ingenious, are unable to break or evade.”
+
+“Pardon me, gentle Knight,” said Adrian, looking up from his charge, “if
+I do not yet give myself wholly to gratitude. I have learned enough of
+knighthood to feel thou wilt acknowledge that my first duty is here--”
+
+“Oh, a lady, then, was the cause of the quarrel! I need not ask who
+was in the right, when a man brings to the rivalry such odds as yon
+caitiff.”
+
+“Thou mistakest a little, Sir Knight,--it is but a lamb I have rescued
+from the wolf.”
+
+“For thy own table! Be it so!” returned the Knight, gaily.
+
+Adrian smiled gravely, and shook his head in denial. In truth, he was
+somewhat embarrassed by his situation. Though habitually gallant, he was
+not willing to expose to misconstruction the disinterestedness of his
+late conduct, and (for it was his policy to conciliate popularity) to
+sully the credit which his bravery would give him among the citizens,
+by conveying Irene (whose beauty, too, as yet, he had scarcely noted)
+to his own dwelling; and yet, in her present situation, there was no
+alternative. She evinced no sign of life. He knew not her home, nor
+parentage. Benedetta had vanished. He could not leave her in the
+streets; he could not resign her to the care of another; and, as she lay
+now upon his breast, he felt her already endeared to him, by that sense
+of protection which is so grateful to the human heart. He briefly,
+therefore, explained to those now gathered round him, his present
+situation, and the cause of the past conflict; and bade the
+torch-bearers precede him to his home.
+
+“You, Sir Knight,” added he, turning to Montreal, “if not already more
+pleasantly lodged, will, I trust, deign to be my guest?”
+
+“Thanks, Signor,” answered Montreal, maliciously, “but I, also, perhaps,
+have my own affairs to watch over. Adieu! I shall seek you at the
+earliest occasion. Fair night, and gentle dreams!
+
+
+  ‘Robers Bertrams qui estoit tors Mais a ceval estoit mult fors
+  Cil avoit o lui grans effors Multi ot ‘homes per lui mors.’”
+
+     (“An ill-favoured man, but a stout horseman, was Robert
+     Bertram. Great deeds were his, and many a man died by his
+     hand.”)
+
+
+And, muttering this rugged chant from the old “Roman de Rou,” the
+Provencal, followed by Rodolf, pursued his way.
+
+The vast extent of Rome, and the thinness of its population, left many
+of the streets utterly deserted. The principal nobles were thus
+enabled to possess themselves of a wide range of buildings, which they
+fortified, partly against each other, partly against the people; their
+numerous relatives and clients lived around them, forming, as it were,
+petty courts and cities in themselves.
+
+Almost opposite to the principal palace of the Colonna (occupied by his
+powerful kinsman, Stephen) was the mansion of Adrian. Heavily swung back
+the massive gates at his approach; he ascended the broad staircase, and
+bore his charge into an apartment which his tastes had decorated in a
+fashion not as yet common in that age. Ancient statues and busts were
+arranged around; the pictured arras of Lombardy decorated the walls, and
+covered the massive seats.
+
+“What ho! Lights here, and wine!” cried the Seneschal.
+
+“Leave us alone,” said Adrian, gazing passionately on the pale cheek of
+Irene, as he now, by the clear light, beheld all its beauty; and a sweet
+yet burning hope crept into his heart.
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.V. The Description of a Conspirator, and the Dawn of the
+Conspiracy.
+
+Alone, by a table covered with various papers, sat a man in the prime
+of life. The chamber was low and long; many antique and disfigured
+bas-reliefs and torsos were placed around the wall, interspersed, here
+and there, with the short sword and close casque, time-worn relics of
+the prowess of ancient Rome. Right above the table at which he sate, the
+moonlight streamed through a high and narrow casement, deep sunk in the
+massy wall. In a niche to the right of this window, guarded by a sliding
+door, which was now partially drawn aside--but which, by its solid
+substance, and the sheet of iron with which it was plated, testified how
+valuable, in the eyes of the owner, was the treasure it protected--were
+ranged some thirty or forty volumes, then deemed no inconsiderable
+library; and being, for the most part, the laborious copies in
+manuscript by the hand of the owner, from immortal originals.
+
+Leaning his cheek on his hand, his brow somewhat knit, his lip slightly
+compressed, that personage, indulged in meditations far other than the
+indolent dreams of scholars. As the high and still moonlight shone upon
+his countenance, it gave an additional and solemn dignity to features
+which were naturally of a grave and majestic cast. Thick and auburn
+hair, the colour of which, not common to the Romans, was ascribed to his
+descent from the Teuton emperor, clustered in large curls above a high
+and expansive forehead; and even the present thoughtful compression of
+the brow could not mar the aspect of latent power, which it derived from
+that great breadth between the eyes, in which the Grecian sculptors of
+old so admirably conveyed the expression of authority, and the silent
+energy of command. But his features were not cast in the Grecian, still
+less in the Teuton mould. The iron jaw, the aquiline nose, the somewhat
+sunken cheek, strikingly recalled the character of the hard Roman
+race, and might not inaptly have suggested to a painter a model for the
+younger Brutus.
+
+The marked outline of the face, and the short, firm upper lip, were not
+concealed by the beard and mustachios usually then worn; and, in the
+faded portrait of the person now described, still extant at Rome, may
+be traced a certain resemblance to the popular pictures of Napoleon;
+not indeed in the features, which are more stern and prominent in the
+portrait of the Roman, but in that peculiar expression of concentrated
+and tranquil power which so nearly realizes the ideal of intellectual
+majesty. Though still young, the personal advantages most peculiar to
+youth,--the bloom and glow, the rounded cheek in which care has not yet
+ploughed its lines, the full unsunken eye, and the slender delicacy of
+frame,--these were not the characteristics of that solitary student.
+And, though considered by his contemporaries as eminently handsome, the
+judgment was probably formed less from the more vulgar claims to such
+distinction, than from the height of the stature, an advantage at that
+time more esteemed than at present, and that nobler order of beauty
+which cultivated genius and commanding character usually stamp upon even
+homely features;--the more rare in an age so rugged.
+
+The character of Rienzi (for the youth presented to the reader in the
+first chapter of this history is now again before him in maturer years)
+had acquired greater hardness and energy with each stepping-stone
+to power. There was a circumstance attendant on his birth which had,
+probably, exercised great and early influence on his ambition. Though
+his parents were in humble circumstances, and of lowly calling, his
+father was the natural son of the Emperor, Henry VII.; (De Sade supposes
+that the mother of Rienzi was the daughter of an illegitimate son of
+Henry VII., supporting his opinion from a MS. in the Vatican. But,
+according to the contemporaneous biographer, Rienzi, in addressing
+Charles, king of Bohemia claims the relationship from his father “Di
+vostro legnaggio sono--figlio di bastardo d’Enrico imperatore,” &c. A
+more recent writer, il Padre Gabrini, cites an inscription in support of
+this descent: “Nicolaus Tribunus...Laurentii Teutonici Filius,” &c.)
+and it was the pride of the parents that probably gave to Rienzi
+the unwonted advantages of education. This pride transmitted to
+himself,--his descent from royalty dinned into his ear, infused into his
+thoughts, from his cradle,--made him, even in his earliest youth, deem
+himself the equal of the Roman signors, and half unconsciously aspire
+to be their superior. But, as the literature of Rome was unfolded to
+his eager eye and ambitious heart, he became imbued with that pride of
+country which is nobler than the pride of birth; and, save when stung by
+allusions to his origin, he unaffectedly valued himself more on being
+a Roman plebeian than the descendant of a Teuton king. His brother’s
+death, and the vicissitudes he himself had already undergone, deepened
+the earnest and solemn qualities of his character; and, at length, all
+the faculties of a very uncommon intellect were concentrated into one
+object--which borrowed from a mind strongly and mystically religious,
+as well as patriotic, a sacred aspect, and grew at once a duty and a
+passion.
+
+“Yes,” said Rienzi, breaking suddenly from his revery, “yes, the day
+is at hand when Rome shall rise again from her ashes; Justice shall
+dethrone Oppression; men shall walk safe in their ancient Forum. We will
+rouse from his forgotten tomb the indomitable soul of Cato! There shall
+be a people once more in Rome! And I--I shall be the instrument of that
+triumph--the restorer of my race! mine shall be the first voice to swell
+the battle-cry of freedom--mine the first hand to rear her banner--yes,
+from the height of my own soul as from a mountain, I see already rising
+the liberties and the grandeur of the New Rome; and on the corner-stone
+of the mighty fabric posterity shall read my name.”
+
+Uttering these lofty boasts, the whole person of the speaker seemed
+instinct with his ambition. He strode the gloomy chamber with light and
+rapid steps, as if on air; his breast heaved, his eyes glowed. He felt
+that love itself can scarcely bestow a rapture equal to that which is
+felt, in his first virgin enthusiasm, by a patriot who knows himself
+sincere!
+
+There was a slight knock at the door, and a servitor, in the rich
+liveries worn by the pope’s officials, (Not the present hideous
+habiliments, which are said to have been the invention of Michael
+Angelo.) presented himself.
+
+“Signor,” said he, “my Lord, the Bishop of Orvietto, is without.”
+
+“Ha! that is fortunate. Lights there!--My Lord, this is an honour which
+I can estimate better than express.”
+
+“Tut, tut! my good friend,” said the Bishop, entering, and seating
+himself familiarly, “no ceremonies between the servants of the Church;
+and never, I ween well, had she greater need of true friends than now.
+These unholy tumults, these licentious contentions, in the very shrines
+and city of St. Peter, are sufficient to scandalize all Christendom.”
+
+“And so will it be,” said Rienzi, “until his Holiness himself shall
+be graciously persuaded to fix his residence in the seat of his
+predecessors, and curb with a strong arm the excesses of the nobles.”
+
+“Alas, man!” said the Bishop, “thou knowest that these words are but as
+wind; for were the Pope to fulfil thy wishes, and remove from Avignon to
+Rome, by the blood of St. Peter! he would not curb the nobles, but
+the nobles would curb him. Thou knowest well that until his blessed
+predecessor, of pious memory, conceived the wise design of escaping
+to Avignon, the Father of the Christian world was but like many other
+fathers in their old age, controlled and guarded by his rebellious
+children. Recollectest thou not how the noble Boniface himself, a man of
+great heart, and nerves of iron, was kept in thraldom by the ancestors
+of the Orsini--his entrances and exits made but at their will--so that,
+like a caged eagle, he beat himself against his bars and died? Verily,
+thou talkest of the memories of Rome--these are not the memories that
+are very attractive to popes.”
+
+“Well,” said Rienzi, laughing gently, and drawing his seat nearer to the
+Bishop’s, “my Lord has certainly the best of the argument at present;
+and I must own, that strong, licentious, and unhallowed as the order of
+nobility was then, it is yet more so now.”
+
+“Even I,” rejoined Raimond, colouring as he spoke, “though Vicar of the
+Pope, and representative of his spiritual authority, was, but three days
+ago, subjected to a coarse affront from that very Stephen Colonna, who
+has ever received such favour and tenderness from the Holy See. His
+servitors jostled mine in the open streets, and I myself,--I, the
+delegate of the sire of kings--was forced to draw aside to the wall,
+and wait until the hoary insolent swept by. Nor were blaspheming words
+wanting to complete the insult. ‘Pardon, Lord Bishop,’ said he, as
+he passed me; ‘but this world, thou knowest, must necessarily take
+precedence of the other.’”
+
+“Dared he so high?” said Rienzi, shading his face with his hand, as a
+very peculiar smile--scarcely itself joyous, though it made others gay,
+and which completely changed the character of his face, naturally grave
+even to sternness--played round his lips. “Then it is time for thee,
+holy father, as for us, to--”
+
+“To what?” interrupted the Bishop, quickly. “Can we effect aught!
+Dismiss thy enthusiastic dreamings--descend to the real earth--look
+soberly round us. Against men so powerful, what can we do?”
+
+“My Lord,” answered Rienzi, gravely, “it is the misfortune of signors of
+your rank never to know the people, or the accurate signs of the time.
+As those who pass over the heights of mountains see the clouds sweep
+below, veiling the plains and valleys from their gaze, while they, only
+a little above the level, survey the movements and the homes of men;
+even so from your lofty eminence ye behold but the indistinct and sullen
+vapours--while from my humbler station I see the preparations of the
+shepherds, to shelter themselves and herds from the storm which those
+clouds betoken. Despair not, my Lord; endurance goes but to a certain
+limit--to that limit it is already stretched; Rome waits but the
+occasion (it will soon come, but not suddenly) to rise simultaneously
+against her oppressors.”
+
+The great secret of eloquence is to be in earnest--the great secret of
+Rienzi’s eloquence was in the mightiness of his enthusiasm. He never
+spoke as one who doubted of success. Perhaps, like most men who
+undertake high and great actions, he himself was never thoroughly aware
+of the obstacles in his way. He saw the end, bright and clear, and
+overleaped, in the vision of his soul, the crosses and the length of
+the path; thus the deep convictions of his own mind stamped themselves
+irresistibly upon others. He seemed less to promise than to prophesy.
+
+The Bishop of Orvietto, not over wise, yet a man of cool temperament
+and much worldly experience, was forcibly impressed by the energy of his
+companion; perhaps, indeed, the more so, inasmuch as his own pride and
+his own passions were also enlisted against the arrogance and licence of
+the nobles. He paused ere he replied to Rienzi.
+
+“But is it,” he asked, at length, “only the plebeians who will rise?
+Thou knowest how they are caitiff and uncertain.”
+
+“My Lord,” answered Rienzi, “judge, by one fact, how strongly I am
+surrounded by friends of no common class: thou knowest how loudly
+I speak against the nobles--I cite them by their name--I beard the
+Savelli, the Orsini, the Colonna, in their very hearing. Thinkest thou
+that they forgive me? thinkest thou that, were only the plebeians my
+safeguard and my favourers, they would not seize me by open force,--that
+I had not long ere this found a gag in their dungeons, or been swallowed
+up in the eternal dumbness of the grave? Observe,” continued he, as,
+reading the Vicar’s countenance, he perceived the impression he had
+made--“observe, that, throughout the whole world, a great revolution has
+begun. The barbaric darkness of centuries has been broken; the Knowledge
+which made men as demigods in the past time has been called from her
+urn; a Power, subtler than brute force, and mightier than armed men, is
+at work; we have begun once more to do homage to the Royalty of Mind.
+Yes, that same Power which, a few years ago, crowned Petrarch in the
+Capitol, when it witnessed, after the silence of twelve centuries, the
+glories of a Triumph,--which heaped upon a man of obscure birth, and
+unknown in arms, the same honours given of old to emperors and the
+vanquishers of kings,--which united in one act of homage even the rival
+houses of Colonna and Orsini,--which made the haughtiest patricians
+emulous to bear the train, to touch but the purple robe, of the son of
+the Florentine plebeian,--which still draws the eyes of Europe to
+the lowly cottage of Vaucluse,--which gives to the humble student the
+all-acknowledged licence to admonish tyrants, and approach, with haughty
+prayers, even the Father of the Church;--yes, that same Power, which,
+working silently throughout Italy, murmurs under the solid base of
+the Venetian oligarchy; (It was about eight years afterwards that the
+long-smothered hate of the Venetian people to that wisest and most
+vigilant of all oligarchies, the Sparta of Italy, broke out in the
+conspiracy under Marino Faliero.) which, beyond the Alps, has wakened
+into visible and sudden life in Spain, in Germany, in Flanders; and
+which, even in that barbarous Isle, conquered by the Norman sword, ruled
+by the bravest of living kings, (Edward III., in whose reign opinions
+far more popular than those of the following century began to work. The
+Civil Wars threw back the action into the blood. It was indeed an age
+throughout the world which put forth abundant blossoms, but crude and
+unripened fruit;--a singular leap, followed by as singular a pause.)
+has roused a spirit Norman cannot break--kings to rule over must rule
+by--yes, that same Power is everywhere abroad: it speaks, it conquers in
+the voice even of him who is before you; it unites in his cause all on
+whom but one glimmering of light has burst, all in whom one generous
+desire can be kindled! Know, Lord Vicar, that there is not a man in
+Rome, save our oppressors themselves--not a man who has learned one
+syllable of our ancient tongue--whose heart and sword are not with me.
+The peaceful cultivators of letters--the proud nobles of the second
+order--the rising race, wiser than their slothful sires; above all, my
+Lord, the humbler ministers of religion, priests and monks, whom luxury
+hath not blinded, pomp hath not deafened, to the monstrous outrage to
+Christianity daily and nightly perpetrated in the Christian Capital;
+these,--all these,--are linked with the merchant and the artisan in one
+indissoluble bond, waiting but the signal to fall or to conquer, to live
+freemen, or to die martyrs, with Rienzi and their country!”
+
+“Sayest thou so in truth?” said the Bishop, startled, and half rising.
+“Prove but thy words, and thou shalt not find the ministers of God are
+less eager than their lay brethren for the happiness of men.”
+
+“What I say,” rejoined Rienzi, in a cooler tone, “that can I show; but I
+may only prove it to those who will be with us.”
+
+“Fear me not,” answered Raimond: “I know well the secret mind of his
+Holiness, whose delegate and representative I am; and could he see but
+the legitimate and natural limit set to the power of the patricians,
+who, in their arrogance, have set at nought the authority of the Church
+itself, be sure that he would smile on the hand that drew the line.
+Nay, so certain of this am I, that if ye succeed, I, his responsible but
+unworthy vicar, will myself sanction the success. But beware of crude
+attempts; the Church must not be weakened by linking itself to failure.”
+
+“Right, my Lord,” answered Rienzi; “and in this, the policy of religion
+is that of freedom. Judge of my prudence by my long delay. He who can
+see all around him impatient--himself not less so--and yet suppress the
+signal, and bide the hour, is not likely to lose his cause by rashness.”
+
+“More, then, of this anon,” said the Bishop, resettling himself in his
+seat. “As thy plans mature, fear not to communicate with me. Believe
+that Rome has no firmer friend then he who, ordained to preserve order,
+finds himself impotent against aggression. Meanwhile, to the object of
+my present visit, which links itself, in some measure, perhaps, with the
+topics on which we have conversed...Thou knowest that when his Holiness
+intrusted thee with thy present office, he bade thee also announce his
+beneficent intention of granting a general Jubilee at Rome for the year
+1350--a most admirable design for two reasons, sufficiently apparent
+to thyself: first, that every Christian soul that may undertake the
+pilgrimage to Rome on that occasion, may thus obtain a general remission
+of sins; and secondly, because, to speak carnally, the concourse of
+pilgrims so assembled, usually, by the donations and offerings their
+piety suggests, very materially add to the revenues of the Holy See:
+at this time, by the way, in no very flourishing condition. This thou
+knowest, dear Rienzi.”
+
+Rienzi bowed his head in assent, and the prelate continued--
+
+“Well, it is with the greatest grief that his Holiness perceives that
+his pious intentions are likely to be frustrated: for so fierce and
+numerous are now the brigands in the public approaches to Rome, that,
+verily, the boldest pilgrim may tremble a little to undertake the
+journey; and those who do so venture will, probably, be composed of the
+poorest of the Christian community,--men who, bringing with them neither
+gold, nor silver, nor precious offerings, will have little to fear from
+the rapacity of the brigands. Hence arise two consequences: on the
+one hand, the rich--whom, Heaven knows, and the Gospel has, indeed,
+expressly declared, have the most need of a remission of sins--will be
+deprived of this glorious occasion for absolution; and, on the other
+hand, the coffers of the Church will be impiously defrauded of that
+wealth which it would otherwise doubtless obtain from the zeal of her
+children.”
+
+“Nothing can be more logically manifest, my Lord,” said Rienzi.
+
+The Vicar continued--“Now, in letters received five days since from his
+Holiness, he bade me expose these fearful consequences to Christianity
+to the various patricians who are legitimately fiefs of the Church, and
+command their resolute combination against the marauders of the road.
+With these have I conferred, and vainly.”
+
+“For by the aid, and from the troops, of those very brigands, these
+patricians have fortified their palaces against each other,” added
+Rienzi.
+
+“Exactly for that reason,” rejoined the Bishop. “Nay, Stephen Colonna
+himself had the audacity to confess it. Utterly unmoved by the loss to
+so many precious souls, and, I may add, to the papal treasury, which
+ought to be little less dear to right-discerning men, they refuse
+to advance a step against the bandits. Now, then, hearken the second
+mandate of his Holiness:--‘Failing the nobles,’ saith he, in his
+prophetic sagacity, ‘confer with Cola di Rienzi. He is a bold man, and a
+pious, and, thou tellest me, of great weight with the people; and say to
+him, that if his wit can devise the method for extirpating these sons
+of Belial, and rendering a safe passage along the public ways, largely,
+indeed, will he merit at our hands,--lasting will be the gratitude we
+shall owe to him; and whatever succour thou, and the servants of our
+See, can render to him, let it not be stinted.’”
+
+“Said his Holiness thus!” exclaimed Rienzi. “I ask no more--the
+gratitude is mine that he hath thought thus of his servant, and
+intrusted me with this charge; at once I accept it--at once I pledge
+myself to success. Let us, my Lord, let us, then, clearly understand
+the limits ordained to my discretion. To curb the brigands without the
+walls, I must have authority over those within. If I undertake, at peril
+of my life, to clear all the avenues to Rome of the robbers who now
+infest it, shall I have full licence for conduct bold, peremptory, and
+severe?”
+
+“Such conduct the very nature of the charge demands,” replied Raimond.
+
+“Ay,--even though it be exercised against the arch offenders--against
+the supporters of the brigands--against the haughtiest of the nobles
+themselves?”
+
+The Bishop paused, and looked hard in the face of the speaker. “I
+repeat,” said he, at length, sinking his voice, and with a significant
+tone, “in these bold attempts, success is the sole sanction. Succeed,
+and we will excuse thee all--even to the--”
+
+“Death of a Colonna or an Orsini, should justice demand it; and provided
+it be according to the law, and only incurred by the violation of the
+law!” added Rienzi, firmly.
+
+The Bishop did not reply in words, but a slight motion of his head was
+sufficient answer to Rienzi.
+
+“My Lord,” said he, “from this time, then, all is well; I date the
+revolution--the restoration of order, of the state--from this hour, this
+very conference. Till now, knowing that justice must never wink upon
+great offenders, I had hesitated, through fear lest thou and his
+Holiness might deem it severity, and blame him who replaces the law,
+because he smites the violaters of law. Now I judge ye more rightly.
+Your hand, my Lord.”
+
+The Bishop extended his hand; Rienzi grasped it firmly, and then raised
+it respectfully to his lips. Both felt that the compact was sealed.
+
+This conference, so long in recital, was short in the reality; but its
+object was already finished, and the Bishop rose to depart. The outer
+portal of the house was opened, the numerous servitors of the Bishop
+held on high their torches, and he had just termed from Rienzi, who
+had attended him to the gate, when a female passed hastily through the
+Prelate’s train, and starting as she beheld Rienzi, flung herself at his
+feet.
+
+“Oh, hasten, Sir! hasten, for the love of God, hasten! or the young
+Signora is lost for ever!”
+
+“The Signora!--Heaven and earth, Benedetta, of whom do you speak?--of my
+sister--of Irene? is she not within?”
+
+“Oh, Sir--the Orsini--the Orsini!”
+
+“What of them?--speak, woman!”
+
+Here, breathlessly, and with many a break, Benedetta recounted to
+Rienzi, in whom the reader has already recognised the brother of Irene,
+so far of the adventure with Martino di Porto as she had witnessed: of
+the termination and result of the contest she knew nought.
+
+Rienzi listened in silence; but the deadly paleness of his countenance,
+and the writhing of the nether lip, testified the emotions to which he
+gave no audible vent.
+
+“You hear, my Lord Bishop--you hear,” said he, when Benedetta had
+concluded; and turning to the Bishop, whose departure the narrative had
+delayed--“you hear to what outrage the citizens of Rome are subjected.
+My hat and sword! instantly! My Lord, forgive my abruptness.”
+
+“Whither art thou bent, then?” asked Raimond.
+
+“Whither--whither!--Ay, I forgot, my Lord, you have no sister. Perhaps
+too, you had no brother?--No, no; one victim at least I will live to
+save. Whither, you ask me?--to the palace of Martino di Porto.”
+
+“To an Orsini alone, and for justice?”
+
+“Alone, and for justice!--No!” shouted Rienzi, in a loud voice, as he
+seized his sword, now brought to him by one of his servants, and rushed
+from the house; “but one man is sufficient for revenge!”
+
+The Bishop paused for a moment’s deliberation. “He must not be lost,”
+ muttered he, “as he well may be, if exposed thus solitary to the wolf’s
+rage. What, ho!” he cried aloud; “advance the torches!--quick, quick! We
+ourself--we, the Vicar of the Pope--will see to this. Calm yourselves,
+good people; your young Signora shall be restored. On! to the palace of
+Martino di Porto!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.VI. Irene in the Palace of Adrian di Castello.
+
+As the Cyprian gazed on the image in which he had embodied a youth of
+dreams, what time the living hues flushed slowly beneath the marble,--so
+gazed the young and passionate Adrian upon the form reclined before him,
+re-awakening gradually to life. And, if the beauty of that face were
+not of the loftiest or the most dazzling order, if its soft and quiet
+character might be outshone by many, of loveliness less really perfect,
+yet never was there a countenance that, to some eyes, would have seemed
+more charming, and never one in which more eloquently was wrought that
+ineffable and virgin expression which Italian art seeks for in its
+models,--in which modesty is the outward, and tenderness the latent,
+expression; the bloom of youth, both of form and heart, ere the first
+frail and delicate freshness of either is brushed away: and when even
+love itself, the only unquiet visitant that should be known at such an
+age, is but a sentiment, and not a passion!
+
+“Benedetta!” murmured Irene, at length opening her eyes, unconsciously,
+upon him who knelt beside her,--eyes of that uncertain, that most liquid
+hue, on which you might gaze for years and never learn the secret of the
+colour, so changed it with the dilating pupil,--darkening in the shade,
+and brightening into azure in the light:
+
+“Benedetta,” said Irene, “where art thou? Oh, Benedetta! I have had such
+a dream.”
+
+“And I, too, such a vision!” thought Adrian.
+
+“Where am I?” cried Irene, rising from the couch. “This room--these
+hangings--Holy Virgin! do I dream still!--and you! Heavens!--it is the
+Lord Adrian di Castello!”
+
+“Is that a name thou hast been taught to fear?” said Adrian; “if so, I
+will forswear it.”
+
+If Irene now blushed deeply, it was not in that wild delight with which
+her romantic heart motive foretold that she would listen to the
+first words of homage from Adrian di Castello. Bewildered and
+confused,--terrified at the strangeness of the place and shrinking even
+from the thought of finding herself alone with one who for years had
+been present to her fancies,--alarm and distress were the emotions
+she felt the most, and which most were impressed upon her speaking
+countenance; and as Adrian now drew nearer to her, despite the
+gentleness of his voice and the respect of his looks, her fears, not the
+less strong that they were vague, increased upon her: she retreated to
+the further end of the room, looked wildly round her, and then, covering
+her face with her hands, burst into a paroxysm of tears.
+
+Moved himself by these tears, and divining her thoughts, Adrian forgot
+for moment all the more daring wishes he had formed.
+
+“Fear not, sweet lady,” said he, earnestly: “recollect thyself, I
+beseech thee; no peril, no evil can reach thee here; it was this hand
+that saved thee from the outrage of the Orsini--this roof is but the
+shelter of a friend! Tell me, then, fair wonder, thy name and residence,
+and I will summon my servitors, and guard thee to thy home at once.”
+
+Perhaps the relief of tears, even more than Adrian’s words, restored
+Irene to herself, and enabled her to comprehend her novel situation;
+and as her senses, thus cleared, told her what she owed to him whom her
+dreams had so long imaged as the ideal of all excellence, she recovered
+her self-possession, and uttered her thanks with a grace not the less
+winning, if it still partook of embarrassment.
+
+“Thank me not,” answered Adrian, passionately. “I have touched thy
+hand--I am repaid. Repaid! nay, all gratitude--all homage is for me to
+render!”
+
+Blushing again, but with far different emotions than before, Irene,
+after a momentary pause, replied, “Yet, my Lord, I must consider it a
+debt the more weighty that you speak of it so lightly. And now, complete
+the obligation. I do not see my companion--suffer her to accompany me
+home; it is but a short way hence.”
+
+“Blessed, then, is the air that I have breathed so unconsciously!” said
+Adrian. “But thy companion, dear lady, is not here. She fled, I imagine,
+in the confusion of the conflict; and not knowing thy name, nor being
+able, in thy then state, to learn it from thy lips, it was my happy
+necessity to convey thee hither;--but I will be thy companion. Nay, why
+that timid glance? my people, also, shall attend us.”
+
+“My thanks, noble Lord, are of little worth; my brother, who is not
+unknown to thee, will thank thee more fittingly. May I depart?” and
+Irene, as she spoke, was already at the door.
+
+“Art thou so eager to leave me?” answered Adrian, sadly. “Alas! when
+thou hast departed from my eyes, it will seem as if the moon had left
+the night!--but it is happiness to obey thy wishes, even though they
+tear thee from me.”
+
+A slight smile parted Irene’s lips, and Adrian’s heart beat audibly
+to himself, as he drew from that smile, and those downcast eyes, no
+unfavourable omen.
+
+Reluctantly and slowly he turned towards the door, and summoned his
+attendants. “But,” said he, as they stood on the lofty staircase, “thou
+sayest, sweet lady, that thy brother’s name is not unknown to me. Heaven
+grant that he be, indeed, a friend of the Colonna!”
+
+“His boast,” answered Irene, evasively; “the boast of Cola di Rienzi is,
+to be a friend to the friends of Rome.”
+
+“Holy Virgin of Ara Coeli!--is thy brother that extraordinary man?”
+ exclaimed Adrian, as he foresaw, at the mention of that name, a barrier
+to his sudden passion. “Alas! in a Colonna, in a noble, he will see no
+merit; even though thy fortunate deliverer, sweet maiden, sought to be
+his early friend!”
+
+“Thou wrongest him much, my Lord,” returned Irene, warmly; “he is a man
+above all others to sympathize with thy generous valour, even had it
+been exerted in defence of the humblest woman in Rome,--how much more,
+then, when in protection of his sister!”
+
+“The times are, indeed, diseased,” answered Adrian, thoughtfully, as
+they now found themselves in the open street, “when men who alike mourn
+for the woes of their country are yet suspicious of each other; when to
+be a patrician is to be regarded as an enemy to the people; when to
+be termed the friend of the people is to be considered a foe to the
+patricians: but come what may, oh! let me hope, dear lady, that no
+doubts, no divisions, shall banish from thy breast one gentle memory of
+me!”
+
+“Ah! little, little do you know me!” began Irene, and stopped suddenly
+short.
+
+“Speak! speak again!--of what music has this envious silence deprived my
+soul! Thou wilt not, then, forget me? And,” continued Adrian, “we shall
+meet again? It is to Rienzi’s house we are bound now; tomorrow I shall
+visit my old companion,--tomorrow I shall see thee. Will it not be so?”
+
+In Irene’s silence was her answer.
+
+“And as thou hast told me thy brother’s name, make it sweet to my ear,
+and add to it thine own.”
+
+“They call me Irene.”
+
+“Irene, Irene!--let me repeat it. It is a soft name, and dwells upon the
+lips as if loath to leave them--a fitting name for one like thee.”
+
+Thus making his welcome court to Irene, in that flowered and glowing
+language which, if more peculiar to that age and to the gallantry of
+the south, is also the language in which the poetry of youthful passion
+would, in all times and lands, utter its rich extravagance, could heart
+speak to heart, Adrian conveyed homeward his beautiful charge, taking,
+however, the most circuitous and lengthened route; an artifice which
+Irene either perceived not, or silently forgave. They were now within
+sight of the street in which Rienzi dwelt, when a party of men bearing
+torches, came unexpectedly upon them. It was the train of the Bishop of
+Orvietto, returning from the palace of Martino di Porto, and in their
+way (accompanied by Rienzi) to that of Adrian. They had learned at the
+former, without an interview with the Orsini, from the retainers in
+the court below, the fortune of the conflict, and the name of Irene’s
+champion; and, despite Adrian’s general reputation for gallantry, Rienzi
+knew enough of his character, and the nobleness of his temper, to feel
+assured that Irene was safe in his protection. Alas! in that very safety
+to the person is often the most danger to the heart. Woman never so
+dangerously loves, as when he who loves her, for her sake, subdues
+himself.
+
+Clasped to her brother’s breast, Irene bade him thank her deliverer;
+and Rienzi, with that fascinating frankness which sits so well on those
+usually reserved, and which all who would rule the hearts of their
+fellow-men must at times command, advanced to the young Colonna, and
+poured forth his gratitude and praise.
+
+“We have been severed too long,--we must know each other again,” replied
+Adrian. “I shall seek thee, ere long, be assured.”
+
+Turning to take his leave of Irene, he conveyed her hand to his lips,
+and pressing it, as it dropped from his clasp, was he deceived in
+thinking that those delicate fingers lightly, involuntarily, returned
+the pressure?
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.VII. Upon Love and Lovers.
+
+If, in adopting the legendary love tale of Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare
+had changed the scene in which it is cast for a more northern clime, we
+may doubt whether the art of Shakespeare himself could have reconciled
+us at once to the suddenness and the strength of Juliet’s passion. And,
+even as it is, perhaps there are few of our rational and sober-minded
+islanders who would not honestly confess, if fairly questioned, that
+they deem the romance and fervour of those ill-starred lovers of Verona
+exaggerated and over-drawn. Yet, in Italy, the picture of that affection
+born of a night--but “strong as death”--is one to which the veriest
+commonplaces of life would afford parallels without number. As in
+different ages, so in different climes, love varies wonderfully in the
+shapes it takes. And even at this day, beneath Italian skies, many a
+simple girl would feel as Juliet, and many a homely gallant would rival
+the extravagance of Romeo. Long suits in that sunny land, wherein, as
+whereof, I now write, are unknown. In no other land, perhaps, is there
+found so commonly the love at first sight, which in France is a jest,
+and in England a doubt; in no other land, too, is love, though so
+suddenly conceived, more faithfully preserved. That which is ripened
+in fancy comes at once to passion, yet is embalmed through all time by
+sentiment. And this must be my and their excuse, if the love of
+Adrian some too prematurely formed, and that of Irene too romantically
+conceived;--it is the excuse which they take from the air and sun, from
+the customs of their ancestors, from the soft contagion of example.
+But while they yielded to the dictates of their hearts, it was with a
+certain though secret sadness--a presentiment that had, perhaps, its
+charm, though it was of cross and evil. Born of so proud a race, Adrian
+could scarcely dream of marriage with the sister of a plebeian; and
+Irene, unconscious of the future glory of her brother, could hardly
+have cherished any hope, save that of being loved. Yet these adverse
+circumstances, which, in the harder, the more prudent, the more
+self-denying, perhaps the more virtuous minds, that are formed beneath
+the northern skies, would have been an inducement to wrestle against
+love so placed, only contributed to feed and to strengthen theirs by
+an opposition which has ever its attraction for romance. They found
+frequent, though short, opportunities of meeting--not quite alone, but
+only in the conniving presence of Benedetta: sometimes in the public
+gardens, sometimes amidst the vast and deserted ruins by which the house
+of Rienzi was surrounded. They surrendered themselves, without much
+question of the future, to the excitement--the elysium--of the hour:
+they lived but from day to day; their future was the next time they
+should meet; beyond that epoch, the very mists of their youthful love
+closed in obscurity and shadow which they sought not to penetrate: and
+as yet they had not arrived at that period of affection when there was
+danger of their fall,--their love had not passed the golden portal where
+Heaven ceases and Earth begins. Everything for them was the poetry,
+the vagueness, the refinement,--not the power, the concentration, the
+mortality,--of desire! The look--the whisper--the brief pressure of the
+hand, at most, the first kisses of love, rare and few,--these marked the
+human limits of that sentiment which filled them with a new life, which
+elevated them as with a new soul.
+
+The roving tendencies of Adrian were at once fixed and centered; the
+dreams of his tender mistress had awakened to a life dreaming still, but
+“rounded with a truth.” All that earnestness, and energy, and fervour of
+emotion, which, in her brother, broke forth in the schemes of patriotism
+and the aspirations of power, were, in Irene, softened down into one
+object of existence, one concentration of soul,--and that was love. Yet,
+in this range of thought and action, so apparently limited, there was,
+in reality, no less boundless a sphere than in the wide space of her
+brother’s many-pathed ambition. Not the less had she the power and
+scope for all the loftiest capacities granted to our clay. Equal was her
+enthusiasm for her idol; equal, had she been equally tried, would have
+been her generosity, her devotion:--greater, be sure, her courage; more
+inalienable her worship; more unsullied by selfish purposes and sordid
+views. Time, change, misfortune, ingratitude, would have left her the
+same! What state could fall, what liberty decay, if the zeal of man’s
+noisy patriotism were as pure as the silent loyalty of a woman’s love?
+
+In them everything was young!--the heart unchilled, unblighted,--that
+fulness and luxuriance of life’s life which has in it something of
+divine. At that age, when it seems as if we could never die, how
+deathless, how flushed and mighty as with the youngness of a god, is all
+that our hearts create! Our own youth is like that of the earth itself,
+when it peopled the woods and waters with divinities; when life
+ran riot, and yet only gave birth to beauty;--all its shapes, of
+poetry,--all its airs, the melodies of Arcady and Olympus! The Golden
+Age never leaves the world: it exists still, and shall exist, till love,
+health, poetry, are no more; but only for the young!
+
+If I now dwell, though but for a moment, on this interlude in a drama
+calling forth more masculine passions than that of love, it is because
+I foresee that the occasion will but rarely recur. If I linger on the
+description of Irene and her hidden affection, rather than wait for
+circumstances to portray them better than the author’s words can, it is
+because I foresee that that loving and lovely image must continue to the
+last rather a shadow than a portrait,--thrown in the background, as is
+the real destiny of such natures, by bolder figures and more gorgeous
+colours; a something whose presence is rather felt than seen, and whose
+very harmony with the whole consists in its retiring and subdued repose.
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.VIII. The Enthusiastic Man Judged by the Discreet Man.
+
+“Thou wrongest me,” said Rienzi, warmly, to Adrian, as they sat alone,
+towards the close of a long conference; “I do not play the part of a
+mere demagogue; I wish not to stir the great deeps in order that my
+lees of fortune may rise to the surface. So long have I brooded over the
+past, that it seems to me as if I had become a part of it--as if I
+had no separate existence. I have coined my whole soul into one master
+passion,--and its end is the restoration of Rome.”
+
+“But by what means?”
+
+“My Lord! my Lord! there is but one way to restore the greatness of a
+people--it is an appeal to the people themselves. It is not in the power
+of princes and barons to make a state permanently glorious; they
+raise themselves, but they raise not the people with them. All great
+regenerations are the universal movement of the mass.”
+
+“Nay,” answered Adrian, “then have we read history differently. To
+me, all great regenerations seem to have been the work of the few, and
+tacitly accepted by the multitude. But let us not dispute after the
+manner of the schools. Thou sayest loudly that a vast crisis is at hand;
+that the Good Estate (buono stato) shall be established. How? where are
+your arms?--your soldiers? Are the nobles less strong than heretofore?
+Is the mob more bold, more constant? Heaven knows that I speak not with
+the prejudices of my order--I weep for the debasement of my country! I
+am a Roman, and in that name I forget that I am a noble. But I tremble
+at the storm you would raise so hazardously. If your insurrection
+succeed, it will be violent: it will be purchased by blood--by the blood
+of all the loftiest names of Rome. You will aim at a second expulsion of
+the Tarquins; but it will be more like a second proscription of Sylla.
+Massacres and disorders never pave the way to peace. If, on the other
+hand, you fail, the chains of Rome are riveted for ever: an ineffectual
+struggle to escape is but an excuse for additional tortures to the
+slave.”
+
+“And what, then, would the Lord Adrian have us do?” said Rienzi, with
+that peculiar and sarcastic smile which has before been noted. “Shall
+we wait till the Colonna and Orsini quarrel no more? shall we ask the
+Colonna for liberty, and the Orsini for justice? My Lord, we cannot
+appeal to the nobles against the nobles. We must not ask them to
+moderate their power; we must restore to ourselves that power. There may
+be danger in the attempt--but we attempt it amongst the monuments of the
+Forum: and if we fall--we shall perish worthy of our sires! Ye have
+high descent, and sounding titles, and wide lands, and you talk of your
+ancestral honours! We, too,--we plebeians of Rome,--we have ours! Our
+fathers were freemen! where is our heritage? not sold--not given away:
+but stolen from us, now by fraud, now by force--filched from us in
+our sleep; or wrung from us with fierce hands, amidst our cries and
+struggles. My Lord, we but ask that lawful heritage to be restored to
+us: to us--nay, to you it is the same; your liberty, alike, is gone. Can
+you dwell in your father’s house, without towers, and fortresses, and
+the bought swords of bravos? can you walk in the streets at dark without
+arms and followers? True, you, a noble, may retaliate; though we dare
+not. You, in your turn, may terrify and outrage others; but does licence
+compensate for liberty? They have given you pomp and power--but the
+safety of equal laws were a better gift. Oh, were I you--were I Stephen
+Colonna himself, I should pant, ay, thirstily as I do now, for that
+free air which comes not through bars and bulwarks against my
+fellow-citizens, but in the open space of Heaven--safe, because
+protected by the silent Providence of Law, and not by the lean fears
+and hollow-eyed suspicions which are the comrades of a hated power.
+The tyrant thinks he is free, because he commands slaves: the meanest
+peasant in a free state is more free than he is. Oh, my Lord, that
+you--the brave, the generous, the enlightened--you, almost alone amidst
+your order, in the knowledge that we had a country--oh, would that you
+who can sympathise with our sufferings, would strike with us for their
+redress!”
+
+“Thou wilt war against Stephen Colonna, my kinsman; and though I have
+seen him but little, nor, truth to say, esteem him much, yet he is the
+boast of our house,--how can I join thee?”
+
+“His life will be safe, his possessions safe, his rank safe. What do we
+war against? His power to do wrong to others.”
+
+“Should he discover that thou hast force beyond words, he would be less
+merciful to thee.”
+
+“And has he not discovered that? Do not the shouts of the people tell
+him that I am a man whom he should fear? Does he--the cautious, the
+wily, the profound--does he build fortresses, and erect towers, and not
+see from his battlements the mighty fabric that I, too, have erected?”
+
+“You! where, Rienzi?”
+
+“In the hearts of Rome! Does he not see?” continued Rienzi. “No, no;
+he--all, all his tribe, are blind. Is it not so?”
+
+“Of a certainty, my kinsman has no belief in your power, else he would
+have crushed you long ere this. Nay, it was but three days ago that he
+said, gravely, he would rather you addressed the populace than the best
+priest in Christendom; for that other orators inflamed the crowd, and no
+man so stilled and dispersed them as you did.”
+
+“And I called him profound! Does not Heaven hush the air most when
+most it prepares the storm? Ay, my Lord, I understand. Stephen Colonna
+despises me. I have been”--(here, as he continued, a deep blush mantled
+over his cheek)--“you remember it--at his palace in my younger days,
+and pleased him with witty tales and light apophthegms. Nay--ha! ha!--he
+would call me, I think, sometimes, in gay compliment, his jester--his
+buffoon! I have brooked his insult; I have even bowed to his applause.
+I would undergo the same penance, stoop to the same shame, for the same
+motive, and in the same cause. What did I desire to effect? Can you tell
+me? No! I will whisper it, then, to you: it was--the contempt of Stephen
+Colonna. Under that contempt I was protected, till protection became
+no longer necessary. I desired not to be thought formidable by the
+patricians, in order that, quietly and unsuspected, I might make my way
+amongst the people. I have done so; I now throw aside the mask. Face
+to face with Stephen Colonna, I could tell him, this very hour, that I
+brave his anger; that I laugh at his dungeons and armed men. But if he
+think me the same Rienzi as of old, let him; I can wait my hour.”
+
+“Yet,” said Adrian, waiving an answer to the haughty language of his
+companion, “tell me, what dost thou ask for the people, in order to
+avoid an appeal to their passions?--ignorant and capricious as they are,
+thou canst not appeal to their reason.”
+
+“I ask full justice and safety for all men. I will be contented with no
+less a compromise. I ask the nobles to dismantle their fortresses; to
+disband their armed retainers; to acknowledge no impunity for crime in
+high lineage; to claim no protection save in the courts of the common
+law.”
+
+“Vain desire!” said Adrian. “Ask what may yet be granted.”
+
+“Ha--ha!” replied Rienzi, laughing bitterly, “did I not tell you it was
+a vain dream to ask for law and justice at the hands of the great? Can
+you blame me, then, that I ask it elsewhere?” Then, suddenly changing
+his tone and manner, he added with great solemnity--“Waking life hath
+false and vain dreams; but sleep is sometimes a mighty prophet. By sleep
+it is that Heaven mysteriously communes with its creatures, and guides
+and sustains its earthly agents in the path to which its providence
+leads them on.”
+
+Adrian made no reply. This was not the first time he had noted that
+Rienzi’s strong intellect was strangely conjoined with a deep and
+mystical superstition. And this yet more inclined the young noble, who,
+though sufficiently devout, yielded but little to the wilder credulities
+of the time, to doubt the success of the schemer’s projects. In this
+he erred greatly, though his error was that of the worldly wise. For
+nothing ever so inspires human daring, as the fond belief that it is the
+agent of a Diviner Wisdom. Revenge and patriotism, united in one man
+of genius and ambition--such are the Archimedian levers that find, in
+FANATICISM, the spot out of the world by which to move the world. The
+prudent man may direct a state; but it is the enthusiast who regenerates
+it,--or ruins.
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.IX. “When the People Saw this Picture, Every One Marvelled.”
+
+Before the market-place, and at the foot of the Capitol, an immense
+crowd was assembled. Each man sought to push before his neighbour; each
+struggled to gain access to one particular spot, round which the crowd
+was wedged think and dense.
+
+“Corpo di Dio!” said a man of huge stature, pressing onward, like some
+bulky ship, casting the noisy waves right and left from its prow, “this
+is hot work; but for what, in the holy Mother’s name, do ye crowd so?
+See you not, Sir Ribald, that my right arm is disabled, swathed, and
+bandaged, so that I cannot help myself better than a baby? And yet you
+push against me as if I were an old wall!”
+
+“Ah, Cecco del Vecchio!--what, man! we must make way for you--you are
+too small and tender to bustle through a crowd! Come, I will protect
+you!” said a dwarf of some four feet high, glancing up at the giant.
+
+“Faith,” said the grim smith, looking round on the mob, who laughed loud
+at the dwarf’s proffer, “we all do want protection, big and small. What
+do you laugh for, ye apes?--ay, you don’t understand parables.”
+
+“And yet it is a parable we are come to gaze upon,” said one of the mob,
+with a slight sneer.
+
+“Pleasant day to you, Signor Baroncelli,” answered Cecco del Vecchio;
+“you are a good man, and love the people; it makes one’s heart smile to
+see you. What’s all this pother for?”
+
+“Why the Pope’s Notary hath set up a great picture in the marketplace,
+and the gapers say it relates to Rome; so they are melting their brains
+out, this hot day, to guess at the riddle.”
+
+“Ho! ho!” said the smith, pushing on so vigorously that he left the
+speaker suddenly in the rear; “if Cola di Rienzi hath aught in the
+matter, I would break through stone rocks to get to it.”
+
+“Much good will a dead daub do us,” said Baroncelli, sourly, and turning
+to his neighbours; but no man listened to him, and he, a would-be
+demagogue, gnawed his lip in envy.
+
+Amidst half-awed groans and curses from the men whom he jostled aside,
+and open objurgations and shrill cries from the women, to whose robes
+and headgear he showed as little respect, the sturdy smith won his way
+to a space fenced round by chains, in the centre of which was placed a
+huge picture.
+
+“How came it hither?” cried one; “I was first at the market.”
+
+“We found it here at daybreak,” said a vender of fruit: “no one was by.”
+
+“But why do you fancy Rienzi had a hand in it?”
+
+“Why, who else could?” answered twenty voices.
+
+“True! Who else?” echoed the gaunt smith. “I dare be sworn the good man
+spent the whole night in painting it himself. Blood of St. Peter! but it
+is mighty fine! What is it about?”
+
+“That’s the riddle,” said a meditative fish-woman; “if I could make it
+out, I should die happy.”
+
+“It is something about liberty and taxes, no doubt,” said Luigi, the
+butcher, leaning over the chains. “Ah, if Rienzi were minded, every poor
+man would have his bit of meat in his pot.”
+
+“And as much bread as he could eat,” added a pale baker.
+
+“Chut! bread and meat--everybody has that now!--but what wine the
+poor folks drink! One has no encouragement to take pains with one’s
+vineyard,” said a vine-dresser.
+
+“Ho, hollo!--long life to Pandulfo di Guido! Make way for master
+Pandulfo; he is a learned man; he is a friend of the great Notary’s; he
+will tell us all about the picture; make way, there--make way!”
+
+Slowly and modestly, Pandulfo di Guido, a quiet, wealthy, and honest man
+of letters, whom nought save the violence of the times could have roused
+from his tranquil home, or his studious closet, passed to the chains. He
+looked long and hard at the picture, which was bright with new, and yet
+moist colours, and exhibited somewhat of the reviving art, which,
+though hard and harsh in its features, was about that time visible, and,
+carried to a far higher degree, we yet gaze upon in the paintings of
+Perugino, who flourished during the succeeding generation. The people
+pressed round the learned man, with open mouths; now turning their eyes
+to the picture, now to Pandulfo.
+
+“Know you not,” at length said Pandulfo, “the easy and palpable meaning
+of this design? Behold how the painter has presented to you a vast and
+stormy sea--mark how its waves--”
+
+“Speak louder--louder!” shouted the impatient crowd.
+
+“Hush!” cried those in the immediate vicinity of Pandulfo, “the worthy
+Signor is perfectly audible!”
+
+Meanwhile, some of the more witty, pushing towards a stall in the
+marketplace, bore from it a rough table, from which they besought
+Pandulfo to address the people. The pale citizen, with some pain and
+shame, for he was no practised spokesman, was obliged to assent; but
+when he cast his eyes over the vast and breathless crowd, his own deep
+sympathy with their cause inspired and emboldened him. A light broke
+from his eyes; his voice swelled into power; and his head, usually
+buried in his breast, became erect and commanding in its air.
+
+“You see before you in the picture” (he began again) “a mighty and
+tempestuous sea: upon its waves you behold five ships; four of them are
+already wrecks,--their masts are broken, the waves are dashing through
+the rent planks, they are past all aid and hope: on each of these ships
+lies the corpse of a woman. See you not, in the wan face and livid
+limbs, how faithfully the limner hath painted the hues and loathsomeness
+of death? Below each of these ships is a word that applies the metaphor
+to truth. Yonder, you see the name of Carthage; the other three are
+Troy, Jerusalem, and Babylon. To these four is one common inscription.
+‘To exhaustion were we brought by injustice!’ Turn now your eyes to the
+middle of the sea,--there you behold the fifth ship, tossed amidst the
+waves, her mast broken, her rudder gone, her sails shivered, but not
+yet a wreck like the rest, though she soon may be. On her deck kneels
+a female, clothed in mourning; mark the wo upon her countenance,--how
+cunningly the artist has conveyed its depth and desolation; she
+stretches out her arms in prayer, she implores your and Heaven’s
+assistance. Mark now the superscription--‘This is Rome!’--Yes, it is
+your country that addresses you in this emblem!”
+
+The crowd waved to and fro, and a deep murmur crept gathering over the
+silence which they had hitherto kept.
+
+“Now,” continued Pandulfo, “turn your gaze to the right of the picture,
+and you will behold the cause of the tempest,--you will see why the
+fifth vessel is thus perilled, and her sisters are thus wrecked. Mark,
+four different kinds of animals, who, from their horrid jaws, send forth
+the winds and storms which torture and rack the sea. The first are the
+lions, the wolves, the bears. These, the inscription tells you, are
+the lawless and savage signors of the state. The next are the dogs
+and swine,--these are the evil counsellors and parasites. Thirdly,
+you behold the dragons and the foxes,--and these are false judges and
+notaries, and they who sell justice. Fourthly, in the hares, the goats,
+the apes, that assist in creating the storm, you perceive, by the
+inscription, the emblems of the popular thieves and homicides, ravishers
+and spoliators. Are ye bewildered still, O Romans! or have ye mastered
+the riddle of the picture?”
+
+Far in their massive palaces the Savelli and Orsini heard the echo of
+the shouts that answered the question of Pandulfo.
+
+“Are ye, then, without hope!” resumed the scholar, as the shout ceased,
+and hushing, with the first sound of his voice, the ejaculations and
+speeches which each man had turned to utter to his neighbour. “Are ye
+without hope? Doth the picture, which shows your tribulation, promise
+you no redemption? Behold, above that angry sea, the heavens open, and
+the majesty of God descends gloriously, as to judgment: and, from the
+rays that surround the Spirit of God extend two flaming swords, and
+on those swords stand, in wrath, but in deliverance, the two patron
+saints--the two mighty guardians of your city! People of Rome, farewell!
+The parable is finished.” (M. Sismondi attributes to Rienzi a fine
+oration at the showing of the picture, in which he thundered against
+the vices of the patricians. The contemporary biographer of Rienzi
+says nothing of this harangue. But, apparently (since history has its
+liberties as well as fiction), M. Sismondi has thought it convenient to
+confound two occasions very distinct in themselves.)
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.X. A Rough Spirit Raised, Which May Hereafter Rend the Wizard.
+
+While thus animated was the scene around the Capitol, within one of
+the apartments of the palace sat the agent and prime cause of that
+excitement. In the company of his quiet scribes, Rienzi appeared
+absorbed in the patient details of his avocation. While the murmur and
+the hum, the shout and the tramp, of multitudes, rolled to his chamber,
+he seemed not to heed them, nor to rouse himself a moment from his task.
+With the unbroken regularity of an automaton, he continued to enter
+in his large book, and with the clear and beautiful characters of
+the period, those damning figures which taught him, better than
+declamations, the frauds practised on the people, and armed him with
+that weapon of plain fact which it is so difficult for abuse to parry.
+
+“Page 2, Vol. B.,” said he, in the tranquil voice of business, to the
+clerks; “see there, the profits of the salt duty; department No.3--very
+well. Page 9, Vol. D.--what is the account rendered by Vescobaldi, the
+collector? What! twelve thousand florins?--no more?--unconscionable
+rascal!” (Here was a loud shout without of ‘Pandulfo!--long live
+Pandulfo!’) “Pastrucci, my friend, your head wanders; you are listening
+to the noise without--please to amuse yourself with the calculation I
+entrusted to you. Santi, what is the entry given in by Antonio Tralli?”
+
+A slight tap was heard at the door, and Pandulfo entered.
+
+The clerks continued their labour, though they looked up hastily at the
+pale and respectable visitor, whose name, to their great astonishment,
+had thus become a popular cry.
+
+“Ah, my friend,” said Rienzi, calmly enough in voice, but his hands
+trembled with ill-suppressed emotion, “you would speak to me alone,
+eh? well, well--this way.” Thus saying, he led the citizen into a small
+cabinet in the rear of the room of office, carefully shut the door,
+and then giving himself up to the natural impatience of his character,
+seized Pandulfo by the hand: “Speak!” cried he: “do they take the
+interpretation?--have you made it plain and palpable enough?--has it
+sunk deep into their souls?”
+
+“Oh, by St. Peter! yes!” returned the citizen, whose spirits were
+elevated by his recent discovery that he, too, was an orator--a
+luxurious pleasure for a timid man. “They swallowed every word of the
+interpretation; they are moved to the marrow--you might lead them this
+very hour to battle, and find them heroes. As for the sturdy smith--”
+
+“What! Cecco del Vecchio?” interrupted Rienzi; “ah, his heart is wrought
+in bronze--what did he?”
+
+“Why, he caught me by the hem of my robe as I descended my rostrum, (oh!
+would you could have seen me!--per fede I had caught your mantle!--I was
+a second you!) and said, weeping like a child, ‘Ah, Signor, I am but a
+poor man, and of little worth; but if every drop of blood in this body
+were a life, I would give it for my country!’”
+
+“Brave soul,” said Rienzi, with emotion; “would Rome had but fifty
+such! No man hath done us more good among his own class than Cecco del
+Vecchio.”
+
+“They feel a protection in his very size,” said Pandulfo. “It is
+something to hear such big words from such a big fellow.”
+
+“Were there any voices lifted in disapprobation of the picture and its
+sentiment?”
+
+“None.”
+
+“The time is nearly ripe, then--a few suns more, and the fruit must be
+gathered. The Aventine,--the Lateran,--and then the solitary trumpet!”
+ Thus saying, Rienzi, with folded arms and downcast eyes, seemed sunk
+into a reverie.
+
+“By the way,” said Pandulfo, “I had almost forgot to tell thee, that the
+crowd would have poured themselves hither, so impatient were they to see
+thee; but I bade Cecco del Vecchio mount the rostrum, and tell them, in
+his blunt way, that it would be unseemly at the present time, when thou
+wert engaged in the Capitol on civil and holy affairs, to rush in so
+great a body into thy presence. Did I not right?”
+
+“Most right, my Pandulfo.”
+
+“But Cecco del Vecchio says he must come and kiss thy hand: and thou
+mayst expect him here the moment he can escape unobserved from the
+crowd.”
+
+“He is welcome!” said Rienzi, half mechanically, for he was still
+absorbed in thought.
+
+“And, lo! here he is,”--as one of the scribes announced the visit of the
+smith.
+
+“Let him be admitted!” said Rienzi, seating himself composedly.
+
+When the huge smith found himself in the presence of Rienzi, it amused
+Pandulfo to perceive the wonderful influences of mind over matter. That
+fierce and sturdy giant, who, in all popular commotions, towered above
+his tribe, with thews of stone, and nerves of iron, the rallying point
+and bulwark of the rest,--stood now colouring and trembling before the
+intellect, which (so had the eloquent spirit of Rienzi waked and fanned
+the spark which, till then, had lain dormant in that rough bosom)
+might almost be said to have created his own. And he, indeed, who first
+arouses in the bondsman the sense and soul of freedom, comes as near as
+is permitted to man, nearer than the philosopher, nearer even than the
+poet, to the great creative attribute of God!--But, if the breast be
+uneducated, the gift may curse the giver; and he who passes at once from
+the slave to the freeman may pass as rapidly from the freeman to the
+ruffian.
+
+“Approach, my friend,” said Rienzi, after a moment’s pause; “I know all
+that thou hast done, and wouldst do, for Rome! Thou art worthy of her
+best days, and thou art born to share in their return.”
+
+The smith dropped at the feet of Rienzi, who held out his hand to raise
+him, which Cecco del Vecchio seized, and reverentially kissed.
+
+“This kiss does not betray,” said Rienzi, smiling; “but rise, my
+friend,--this posture is only due to God and his saints!”
+
+“He is a saint who helps us at need!” said the smith, bluntly, “and that
+no man has done as thou hast. But when,” he added, sinking his voice,
+and fixing his eyes hard on Rienzi, as one may do who waits a signal to
+strike a blow, “when--when shall we make the great effort?”
+
+“Thou hast spoken to all the brave men in thy neighbourhood,--are they
+well prepared?”
+
+“To live or die, as Rienzi bids them!”
+
+“I must have the list--the number--names--houses and callings, this
+night.”
+
+“Thou shalt.”
+
+“Each man must sign his name or mark with his own hand.”
+
+“It shall be done.”
+
+“Then, harkye! attend Pandulfo di Guido at his house this evening,
+at sunset. He shall instruct thee where to meet this night some brave
+hearts;--thou art worthy to be ranked amongst them. Thou wilt not fail!”
+
+“By the holy Stairs! I will count every minute till then,” said the
+smith, his swarthy face lighted with pride at the confidence shown him.
+
+“Meanwhile, watch all your neighbours; let no man flag or grow
+faint-hearted,--none of thy friends must be branded as a traitor!”
+
+“I will cut his throat, were he my own mother’s son, if I find one
+pledged man flinch!” said the fierce smith.
+
+“Ha, ha!” rejoined Rienzi, with that strange laugh which belonged to
+him; “a miracle! a miracle! The Picture speaks now!”
+
+It was already nearly dusk when Rienzi left the Capitol. The broad space
+before its walls was empty and deserted, and wrapping his mantle closely
+round him, he walked musingly on.
+
+“I have almost climbed the height,” thought he, “and now the precipice
+yawns before me. If I fail, what a fall! The last hope of my country
+falls with me. Never will a noble rise against the nobles. Never will
+another plebeian have the opportunities and the power that I have! Rome
+is bound up with me--with a single life. The liberties of all time are
+fixed to a reed that a wind may uproot. But oh, Providence! hast thou
+not reserved and marked me for great deeds? How, step by step, have I
+been led on to this solemn enterprise! How has each hour prepared its
+successor! And yet what danger! If the inconstant people, made cowardly
+by long thraldom, do but waver in the crisis, I am swept away!”
+
+As he spoke, he raised his eyes, and lo, before him, the first star of
+twilight shone calmly down upon the crumbling remnants of the Tarpeian
+Rock. It was no favouring omen, and Rienzi’s heart beat quicker as that
+dark and ruined mass frowned thus suddenly on his gaze.
+
+“Dread monument,” thought he, “of what dark catastrophes, to what
+unknown schemes, hast thou been the witness! To how many enterprises, on
+which history is dumb, hast thou set the seal! How know we whether they
+were criminal or just? How know we whether he, thus doomed as a traitor,
+would not, if successful, have been immortalized as a deliverer? If I
+fall, who will write my chronicle? One of the people? alas! blinded and
+ignorant, they furnish forth no minds that can appeal to posterity. One
+of the patricians? in what colours then shall I be painted! No tomb will
+rise for me amidst the wrecks; no hand scatter flowers upon my grave!”
+
+Thus meditating on the verge of that mighty enterprise to which he had
+devoted himself, Rienzi pursued his way. He gained the Tiber, and paused
+for a few moments beside its legendary stream, over which the purple and
+starlit heaven shone deeply down. He crossed the bridge which leads
+to the quarter of the Trastevere, whose haughty inhabitants yet boast
+themselves the sole true descendants of the ancient Romans. Here he step
+grew quicker and more light; brighter, if less solemn, thoughts crowded
+upon his breast; and ambition, lulled for a moment, left his strained
+and over-laboured mind to the reign of a softer passion.
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.XI. Nina di Raselli.
+
+“I tell you, Lucia, I do not love those stuffs; they do not become me.
+Saw you ever so poor a dye?--this purple, indeed! that crimson! Why did
+you let the man leave them? Let him take them elsewhere tomorrow.
+They may suit the signoras on the other side the Tiber, who imagine
+everything Venetian must be perfect; but I, Lucia, I see with my own
+eyes, and judge from my own mind.”
+
+“Ah, dear lady,” said the serving-maid, “if you were, as you doubtless
+will be, some time or other, a grand signora, how worthily you would
+wear the honours! Santa Cecilia! No other dame in Rome would be looked
+at while the Lady Nina were by!”
+
+“Would we not teach them what pomp was?” answered Nina. “Oh! what
+festivals would we hold! Saw you not from the gallery the revels given
+last week by the Lady Giulia Savelli?”
+
+“Ay, signora; and when you walked up the hall in your silver and pearl
+tissue, there ran such a murmur through the gallery; every one cried,
+‘The Savelli have entertained an angel!’”
+
+“Pish! Lucia; no flattery, girl.”
+
+“It is naked truth, lady. But that was a revel, was it not? There was
+grandeur!--fifty servitors in scarlet and gold! and the music playing
+all the while. The minstrels were sent for from Bergamo. Did not that
+festival please you? Ah, I warrant many were the fine speeches made to
+you that day!”
+
+“Heigho!--no, there was one voice wanting, and all the music was marred.
+But, girl, were I the Lady Giulia, I would not have been contented with
+so poor a revel.”
+
+“How, poor! Why all the nobles say it outdid the proudest marriage-feast
+of the Colonna. Nay, a Neapolitan who sat next me, and who had served
+under the young Queen Joanna, at her marriage, says, that even Naples
+was outshone.”
+
+“That may be. I know nought of Naples; but I know what my court should
+have been, were I what--what I am not, and may never be! The banquet
+vessels should have been of gold; the cups jewelled to the brim; not
+an inch of the rude pavement should have been visible; all should
+have glowed with cloth of gold. The fountain in the court should have
+showered up the perfumes of the East; my pages should not have been
+rough youths, blushing at their own uncouthness, but fair boys, who had
+not told their twelfth year, culled from the daintiest palaces of Rome;
+and, as for the music, oh, Lucia!--each musician should have worn a
+chaplet, and deserved it; and he who played best should have had a
+reward, to inspire all the rest--a rose from me. Saw you, too, the
+Lady Giulia’s robe? What colours! they might have put out the sun
+at noonday!--yellow, and blue, and orange, and scarlet! Oh, sweet
+Saints!--but my eyes ached all the next day!”
+
+“Doubtless, the Lady Giulia lacks your skill in the mixture of colours,”
+ said the complaisant waiting-woman.
+
+“And then, too, what a mien!--no royalty in it! She moved along the
+hall, so that her train well nigh tripped her every moment; and then
+she said, with a foolish laugh, ‘These holyday robes are but troublesome
+luxuries.’ Troth, for the great there should be no holyday robes; ‘tis
+for myself, not for others, that I would attire! Every day should
+have its new robe, more gorgeous than the last;--every day should be a
+holyday!”
+
+“Methought,” said Lucia, “that the Lord Giovanni Orsini seemed very
+devoted to my Lady.”
+
+“He! the bear!”
+
+“Bear, he may be! but he has a costly skin. His riches are untold.”
+
+“And the fool knows not how to spend them.”
+
+“Was not that the young Lord Adrian who spoke to you just by the
+columns, where the music played?”
+
+“It might be,--I forget.”
+
+“Yet, I hear that few ladies forget when Lord Adrian di Castello woos
+them.”
+
+“There was but one man whose company seemed to me worth the
+recollection,” answered Nina, unheeding the insinuation of the artful
+handmaid.
+
+“And who was he?” asked Lucia.
+
+“The old scholar from Avignon!”
+
+“What! he with the gray beard? Oh, Signora!”
+
+“Yes,” said Nina, with a grave and sad voice; “when he spoke, the whole
+scene vanished from my eyes,--for he spoke to me of HIM!”
+
+As she said this, the Signora sighed deeply, and the tears gathered to
+her eyes.
+
+The waiting-woman raised her lips in disdain, and her looks in wonder;
+but she did not dare to venture a reply.
+
+“Open the lattice,” said Nina, after a pause, “and give me yon paper.
+Not that, girl--but the verses sent me yesterday. What! art thou
+Italian, and dost thou not know, by instinct, that I spoke of the rhyme
+of Petrarch?”
+
+Seated by the open casement, through which the moonlight stole soft
+and sheen, with one lamp beside her, from which she seemed to shade her
+eyes, though in reality she sought to hide her countenance from Lucia,
+the young Signora appeared absorbed in one of those tender sonnets which
+then turned the brains and inflamed the hearts of Italy. (Although it is
+true that the love sonnets of Petrarch were not then, as now, the most
+esteemed of his works, yet it has been a great, though a common error,
+to represent them as little known and coldly admired. Their effect was,
+in reality, prodigious and universal. Every ballad-singer sung them
+in the streets, and (says Filippo Villani), “Gravissimi nesciebant
+abstinere”--“Even the gravest could not abstain from them.”)
+
+Born of an impoverished house, which, though boasting its descent from
+a consular race of Rome, scarcely at that day maintained a rank
+amongst the inferior order of nobility, Nina di Raselli was the spoiled
+child--the idol and the tyrant--of her parents. The energetic and
+self-willed character of her mind made her rule where she should have
+obeyed; and as in all ages dispositions can conquer custom, she had,
+though in a clime and land where the young and unmarried of her sex
+are usually chained and fettered, assumed, and by assuming won, the
+prerogative of independence. She possessed, it is true, more learning
+and more genius than generally fell to the share of women in that day;
+and enough of both to be deemed a miracle by her parents;--she had,
+also, what they valued more, a surpassing beauty; and, what they feared
+more, an indomitable haughtiness;--a haughtiness mixed with a thousand
+soft and endearing qualities where she loved; and which, indeed, where
+she loved, seemed to vanish. At once vain yet high-minded, resolute yet
+impassioned, there was a gorgeous magnificence in her very vanity and
+splendour,--an ideality in her waywardness: her defects made a part
+of her brilliancy; without them she would have seemed less woman; and,
+knowing her, you would have compared all women by her standard. Softer
+qualities beside her seemed not more charming, but more insipid. She had
+no vulgar ambition, for she had obstinately refused many alliances which
+the daughter of Raselli could scarcely have hoped to form. The untutored
+minds and savage power of the Roman nobles seemed to her imagination,
+which was full of the poetry of rank, its luxury and its graces, as
+something barbarous and revolting, at once to be dreaded and despised.
+She had, therefore, passed her twentieth year unmarried, but not without
+love. The faults, themselves, of her character, elevated that ideal of
+love which she had formed. She required some being round whom all her
+vainer qualities could rally; she felt that where she loved she must
+adore; she demanded no common idol before which to humble so strong and
+imperious a mind. Unlike women of a gentler mould, who desire, for a
+short period, to exercise the caprices of sweet empire,--when she loved
+she must cease to command; and pride, at once, be humbled to devotion.
+So rare were the qualities that could attract her; so imperiously did
+her haughtiness require that those qualities should be above her own,
+yet of the same order; that her love elevated its object like a god.
+Accustomed to despise, she felt all the luxury it is to venerate! And
+if it were her lot to be united with one thus loved, her nature was
+that which might become elevated by the nature that it gazed on. For
+her beauty--Reader, shouldst thou ever go to Rome, thou wilt see in the
+Capitol the picture of the Cumaean Sibyl, which, often copied, no copy
+can even faintly represent. I beseech thee, mistake not this sibyl for
+another, for the Roman galleries abound in sibyls. (The sibyl referred
+to is the well-known one by Domenichino. As a mere work of art, that by
+Guercino, called the Persian sibyl, in the same collection, is perhaps
+superior; but in beauty, in character, there is no comparison.) The
+sibyl I speak of is dark, and the face has an Eastern cast; the robe
+and turban, gorgeous though they be, grow dim before the rich, but
+transparent roses of the cheek; the hair would be black, save for that
+golden glow which mellows it to a hue and lustre never seen but in the
+south, and even in the south most rare; the features, not Grecian, are
+yet faultless; the mouth, the brow, the ripe and exquisite contour, all
+are human and voluptuous; the expression, the aspect, is something more;
+the form is, perhaps, too full for the perfection of loveliness, for the
+proportions of sculpture, for the delicacy of Athenian models; but the
+luxuriant fault has a majesty. Gaze long upon that picture: it charms,
+yet commands, the eye. While you gaze, you call back five centuries. You
+see before you the breathing image of Nina di Raselli!
+
+But it was not those ingenious and elaborate conceits in which Petrarch,
+great Poet though he be, has so often mistaken pedantry for passion,
+that absorbed at that moment the attention of the beautiful Nina. Her
+eyes rested not on the page, but on the garden that stretched below the
+casement. Over the old fruit-trees and hanging vines fell the moonshine;
+and in the centre of the green, but half-neglected sward, the waters of
+a small and circular fountain, whose perfect proportions spoke of days
+long past, played and sparkled in the starlight. The scene was still
+and beautiful; but neither of its stillness nor its beauty thought Nina:
+towards one, the gloomiest and most rugged, spot in the whole garden,
+turned her gaze; there, the trees stood densely massed together, and
+shut from view the low but heavy wall which encircled the mansion of
+Raselli. The boughs on those trees stirred gently, but Nina saw them
+wave; and now from the copse emerged, slowly and cautiously, a solitary
+figure, whose shadow threw itself, long and dark, over the sward. It
+approached the window, and a low voice breathed Nina’s name.
+
+“Quick, Lucia!” cried she, breathlessly, turning to her handmaid:
+“quick! the rope-ladder! it is he! he is come! How slow you are! haste,
+girl,--he may be discovered! There,--O joy,--O joy!--My lover! my hero!
+my Rienzi!”
+
+“It is you!” said Rienzi, as, now entering the chamber, he wound his
+arms around her half-averted form, “and what is night to others is day
+to me!”
+
+The first sweet moments of welcome were over; and Rienzi was seated at
+the feet of his mistress: his head rested on her knees--his face looking
+up to hers--their hands clasped each in each.
+
+“And for me thou bravest these dangers!” said the lover; “the shame of
+discovery, the wrath of thy parents!”
+
+“But what are my perils to thine? Oh, Heaven! if my father found thee
+here thou wouldst die!”
+
+“He would think it then so great a humiliation, that thou, beautiful
+Nina, who mightst match with the haughtiest names of Rome, shouldst
+waste thy love on a plebeian--even though the grandson of an emperor!”
+
+The proud heart of Nina could sympathize well with the wounded pride of
+her lover: she detected the soreness which lurked beneath his answer,
+carelessly as it was uttered.
+
+“Hast thou not told me,” she said, “of that great Marius, who was no
+noble, but from whom the loftiest Colonna would rejoice to claim his
+descent? and do I not know in thee one who shall yet eclipse the power
+of Marius, unsullied by his vices?”
+
+“Delicious flattery! sweet prophet!” said Rienzi, with a melancholy
+smile; “never were thy supporting promises of the future more welcome to
+me than now; for to thee I will say what I would utter to none else--my
+soul half sinks beneath the mighty burthen I have heaped upon it. I want
+new courage as the dread hour approaches; and from thy words and looks I
+drink it.”
+
+“Oh!” answered Nina, blushing as she spoke, “glorious is indeed the lot
+which I have bought by my love for thee: glorious to share thy schemes,
+to cheer thee in doubt, to whisper hope to thee in danger.”
+
+“And give grace to me in triumph!” added Rienzi, passionately. “Ah!
+should the future ever place upon these brows the laurel-wreath due to
+one who has saved his country, what joy, what recompence, to lay it
+at thy feet! Perhaps, in those long and solitary hours of languor and
+exhaustion which fill up the interstices of time,--the dull space for
+sober thought between the epochs of exciting action,--perhaps I should
+have failed and flagged, and renounced even my dreams for Rome, had they
+not been linked also with my dreams for thee!--had I not pictured to
+myself the hour when my fate should elevate me beyond my birth; when thy
+sire would deem it no disgrace to give thee to my arms; when thou,
+too, shouldst stand amidst the dames of Rome, more honoured, as more
+beautiful, than all; and when I should see that pomp, which my own soul
+disdains, [‘Quem semper abhorrui sicut cenum’ is the expression used by
+Rienzi, in his letter to his friend at Avignon, and which was probably
+sincere. Men rarely act according to the bias of their own tastes.) made
+dear and grateful to me because associated with thee! Yes, it is these
+thoughts that have inspired me, when sterner ones have shrunk back
+appalled from the spectres that surround their goal. And oh! my Nina,
+sacred, strong, enduring must be, indeed, the love which lives in the
+same pure and elevated air as that which sustains my hopes of liberty
+and fame!”
+
+This was the language which, more even than the vows of fidelity and the
+dear adulation which springs from the heart’s exuberance, had bound the
+proud and vain soul of Nina to the chains that it so willingly wore.
+Perhaps, indeed, in the absence of Rienzi, her weaker nature pictured to
+herself the triumph of humbling the highborn signoras, and eclipsing the
+barbarous magnificence of the chiefs of Rome; but in his presence,
+and listening to his more elevated and generous ambition, as yet all
+unsullied by one private feeling save the hope of her, her higher
+sympathies were enlisted with his schemes, her mind aspired to raise
+itself to the height of his, and she thought less of her own rise than
+of his glory. It was sweet to her pride to be the sole confidante of his
+most secret thoughts, as of his most hardy undertakings; to see bared
+before her that intricate and plotting spirit; to be admitted even to
+the knowledge of its doubts and weakness, as of its heroism and power.
+
+Nothing could be more contrasted than the loves of Rienzi and Nina,
+and those of Adrian and Irene: in the latter, all were the dreams, the
+phantasies, the extravagance, of youth; they never talked of the future;
+they mingled no other aspirations with those of love. Ambition, glory,
+the world’s high objects, were nothing to them when together; their love
+had swallowed up the world, and left nothing visible beneath the sun,
+save itself. But the passion of Nina and her lover was that of more
+complicated natures and more mature years: it was made up of a thousand
+feelings, each naturally severed from each, but compelled into one focus
+by the mighty concentration of love; their talk was of the world; it was
+from the world that they drew the aliment which sustained it; it was of
+the future they spoke and thought; of its dreams and imagined glories
+they made themselves a home and altar; their love had in it more of the
+Intellectual than that of Adrian and Irene; it was more fitted for this
+hard earth; it had in it, also, more of the leaven of the later and iron
+days, and less of poetry and the first golden age.
+
+“And must thou leave me now?” said Nina, her cheek no more averted from
+his lips, nor her form from his parting embrace. “The moon is high yet;
+it is but a little hour thou hast given me.”
+
+“An hour! Alas!” said Rienzi, “it is near upon midnight--our friends
+await me.”
+
+“Go, then, my soul’s best half! Go; Nina shall not detain thee one
+moment from those higher objects which make thee so dear to Nina.
+When--when shall we meet again!”
+
+“Not,” said Rienzi, proudly, and with all his soul upon his brow, “not
+thus, by stealth! no! nor as I thus have met thee, the obscure and
+contemned bondsman! When next thou seest me, it shall be at the head of
+the sons of Rome! her champion! her restorer! or--” said he, sinking his
+voice--
+
+“There is no or!” interrupted Nina, weaving her arms round him, and
+catching his enthusiasm; “thou hast uttered thine own destiny!”
+
+“One kiss more!--farewell!--the tenth day from the morrow shines upon
+the restoration of Rome!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 1.XII. The Strange Adventures that Befel Walter de Montreal.
+
+It was upon that same evening, and while the earlier stars yet shone
+over the city, that Walter de Montreal, returning, alone, to the convent
+then associated with the church of Santa Maria del Priorata (both of
+which belonged to the Knights of the Hospital, and in the first of which
+Montreal had taken his lodgment), paused amidst the ruins and desolation
+which lay around his path. Thou little skilled in the classic memories
+and associations of the spot, he could not but be impressed with the
+surrounding witnesses of departed empire; the vast skeleton, as it were,
+of the dead giantess.
+
+“Now,” thought he, as he gazed around upon the roofless columns and
+shattered walls, everywhere visible, over which the starlight shone,
+ghastly and transparent, backed by the frowning and embattled fortresses
+of the Frangipani, half hid by the dark foliage that sprung up amidst
+the very fanes and palaces of old--Nature exulting over the frailer
+Art; “now,” thought he, “bookmen would be inspired, by this scene, with
+fantastic and dreaming visions of the past. But to me these monuments of
+high ambition and royal splendour create only images of the future. Rome
+may yet be, with her seven-hilled diadem, as Rome has been before, the
+prize of the strongest hand and the boldest warrior,--revived, not by
+her own degenerate sons, but the infused blood of a new race. William
+the Bastard could scarce have found the hardy Englishers so easy a
+conquest as Walter the Well-born may find these eunuch Romans. And which
+conquest were the more glorious,--the barbarous Isle, or the Metropolis
+of the World? Short step from the general to the podesta--shorter step
+from the podesta to the king!”
+
+While thus revolving his wild, yet not altogether chimerical ambition,
+a quick light step was heard amidst the long herbage, and, looking up,
+Montreal perceived the figure of a tall female descending from that
+part of the hill then covered by many convents, towards the base of the
+Aventine. She supported her steps with a long staff, and moved with such
+elasticity and erectness, that now, as her face became visible by the
+starlight, it was surprising to perceive that it was the face of one
+advanced in years,--a harsh, proud countenance, withered, and deeply
+wrinkled, but not without a certain regularity of outline.
+
+“Merciful Virgin!” cried Montreal, starting back as that face gleamed
+upon him: “is it possible? It is she:--it is--”
+
+He sprung forward, and stood right before the old woman, who seemed
+equally surprised, though more dismayed, at the sight of Montreal.
+
+“I have sought thee for years,” said the Knight, first breaking the
+silence; “years, long years,--thy conscience can tell thee why.”
+
+“Mine, man of blood!” cried the female, trembling with rage or fear;
+“darest thou talk of conscience? Thou, the dishonourer--the robber--the
+professed homicide! Thou, disgrace to knighthood and to birth! Thou,
+with the cross of chastity and of peace upon thy breast! Thou talk of
+conscience, hypocrite!--thou?”
+
+“Lady--lady!” said Montreal, deprecatingly, and almost quailing beneath
+the fiery passion of that feeble woman, “I have sinned against thee and
+thine. But remember all my excuses!--early love--fatal obstacles--rash
+vow--irresistible temptation! Perhaps,” he added, in a more haughty
+tone, “perhaps, yet, I may have the power to atone my error, and wring,
+with mailed hand, from the successor of St Peter, who hath power to
+loose as to bind--”
+
+“Perjured and abandoned!” interrupted the female; “dost thou dream that
+violence can purchase absolution, or that thou canst ever atone the
+past?--a noble name disgraced, a father’s broken heart and dying curse!
+Yes, that curse, I hear it now! it rings upon me thrillingly, as when I
+watched the expiring clay! it cleaves to thee--it pursues thee--it shall
+pierce thee through thy corselet--it shall smite thee in the meridian of
+thy power! Genius wasted--ambition blasted--penitence deferred--a life
+of brawls, and a death of shame--thy destruction the offspring of thy
+crime!--To this, to this, an old man’s curse hath doomed thee!--AND THOU
+ART DOOMED!”
+
+These words were rather shrieked than spoken: and the flashing eye, the
+lifted hand, the dilated form of the speaker--the hour--the solitude of
+the ruins around--all conspired to give to the fearful execration the
+character of prophecy. The warrior, against whose undaunted breast a
+hundred spears had shivered in vain, fell appalled and humbled to the
+ground. He seized the hem of his fierce denouncer’s robe, and cried, in
+a choked and hollow voice, “Spare me! spare me!”
+
+“Spare thee!” said the unrelenting crone; “hast thou ever spared
+man in thy hatred, or woman in thy lust? Ah, grovel in the
+dust!--crouch--crouch!--wild beast as thou art! whose sleek skin and
+beautiful hues have taught the unwary to be blind to the talons that
+rend, and the grinders that devour;--crouch, that the foot of the old
+and impotent may spurn thee!”
+
+“Hag!” cried Montreal, in the reaction of sudden fury and maddened
+pride, springing up to the full height of his stature. “Hag! thou hast
+passed the limits to which, remembering who thou art, my forbearance
+gave thee licence. I had well-nigh forgot that thou hadst assumed my
+part--I am the Accuser! Woman!--the boy!--shrink not! equivocate not!
+lie not!--thou wert the thief!”
+
+“I was. Thou taughtest me the lesson how to steal a--”
+
+“Render--restore him!” interrupted Montreal, stamping on the ground with
+such force that the splinters of the marble fragments on which he stood
+shivered under his armed heel.
+
+The woman little heeded a violence at which the fiercest warrior of
+Italy might have trembled; but she did not make an immediate answer. The
+character of her countenance altered from passion into an expression
+of grave, intent, and melancholy thought. At length she replied to
+Montreal; whose hand had wandered to his dagger-hilt, with the instinct
+of long habit, whenever enraged or thwarted, rather than from any design
+of blood; which, stern and vindictive as he was, he would have been
+incapable of forming against any woman,--much less against the one then
+before him.
+
+“Walter de Montreal,” said she, in a voice so calm that it almost
+sounded like that of compassion, “the boy, I think, has never known
+brother or sister: the only child of a once haughty and lordly race, on
+both sides, though now on both dishonoured--nay, why so impatient? thou
+wilt soon learn the worst--the boy is dead!”
+
+“Dead!” repeated Montreal, recoiling and growing pale; “dead!--no,
+no--say not that! He has a mother,--you know he has!--a fond,
+meekhearted, anxious, hoping mother!--no!--no, he is not dead!”
+
+“Thou canst feel, then, for a mother?” said the old woman, seemingly
+touched by the tone of the Provencal. “Yet, bethink thee; is it not
+better that the grave should save him from a life of riot, of bloodshed,
+and of crime? Better to sleep with God than to wake with the fiends!”
+
+“Dead!” echoed Montreal; “dead!--the pretty one!--so young!--those
+eyes--the mother’s eyes--closed so soon?”
+
+“Hast thou aught else to say? Thy sight scares my very womanhood from my
+soul!--let me be gone.”
+
+“Dead!--may I believe thee? or dost thou mock me? Thou hast uttered thy
+curse, hearken to my warning:--If thou hast lied in this, thy last hour
+shall dismay thee, and thy death-bed shall be the death-bed of despair!”
+
+“Thy lips,” replied the female, with a scornful smile, “are better
+adapted for lewd vows to unhappy maidens, than for the denunciations
+which sound solemn only when coming from the good. Farewell!”
+
+“Stay! inexorable woman! stay!--where sleeps he? Masses shall be sung!
+priests shall pray!--the sins of the father shall not be visited on that
+young head!”
+
+“At Florence!” returned the woman, hastily. “But no stone records the
+departed one!--The dead boy had no name!”
+
+Waiting for no further questionings, the woman now passed on,--pursued
+her way;--and the long herbage, and the winding descent, soon snatched
+her ill-omened apparition from the desolate landscape.
+
+Montreal, thus alone, sunk with a deep and heavy sigh upon the ground,
+covered his face with his hands, and burst into an agony of grief; his
+chest heaved, his whole frame trembled, and he wept and sobbed aloud,
+with all the fearful vehemence of a man whose passions are strong and
+fierce, but to whom the violence of grief alone is novel and unfamiliar.
+
+He remained thus, prostrate and unmanned, for a considerable time,
+growing slowly and gradually more calm as tears relieved his emotion;
+and, at length, rather indulging a gloomy reverie than a passionate
+grief. The moon was high and the hour late when he arose, and then few
+traces of the past excitement remained upon his countenance; for Walter
+de Montreal was not of that mould in which woe can force a settlement,
+or to which any affliction can bring the continued and habitual
+melancholy that darkens those who feel more enduringly, though with
+emotions less stormy. His were the elements of the true Franc character,
+though carried to excess: his sternest and his deepest qualities
+were mingled with fickleness and caprice; his profound sagacity often
+frustrated by a whim; his towering ambition deserted for some frivolous
+temptation; and his elastic, sanguine, and high-spirited nature,
+faithful only to the desire of military glory, to the poetry of a daring
+and stormy life, and to the susceptibilities of that tender passion
+without whose colourings no portrait of chivalry is complete, and in
+which he was capable of a sentiment, a tenderness, and a loyal devotion,
+which could hardly have been supposed compatible with his reckless
+levity and his undisciplined career.
+
+“Well,” said he, as he rose slowly, folded his mantle round him, and
+resumed his way, “it was not for myself I grieved thus. But the pang is
+past, and the worst is known. Now, then, back to those things that never
+die--restless projects and daring schemes. That hag’s curse keeps my
+blood cold still, and this solitude has something in it weird and awful.
+Ha!--what sudden light is that?”
+
+The light which caught Montreal’s eye broke forth almost like a star,
+scarcely larger, indeed, but more red and intense in its ray. Of itself
+it was nothing uncommon, and might have shone either from convent or
+cottage. But it streamed from a part of the Aventine which contained
+no habitations of the living, but only the empty ruins and shattered
+porticoes, of which even the names and memories of the ancient
+inhabitants were dead. Aware of this, Montreal felt a slight awe (as the
+beam threw its steady light over the dreary landscape); for he was
+not without the knightly superstitions of the age, and it was now the
+witching hour consecrated to ghost and spirit. But fear, whether of
+this world or the next, could not long daunt the mind of the hardy
+freebooter; and, after a short hesitation, he resolved to make a
+digression from his way, and ascertain the cause of the phenomenon.
+Unconsciously, the martial tread of the barbarian passed over the site
+of the famed, or infamous, Temple of Isis, which had once witnessed
+those wildest orgies commemorated by Juvenal; and came at last to a
+thick and dark copse, from an opening in the centre of which gleamed the
+mysterious light. Penetrating the gloomy foliage, the Knight now found
+himself before a large ruin, grey and roofless, from within which came,
+indistinct and muffled, the sound of voices. Through a rent in the wall,
+forming a kind of casement, and about ten feet from the ground, the
+light now broke over the matted and rank soil, embedded, as it were, in
+vast masses of shade, and streaming through a mouldering portico hard at
+hand. The Provencal stood, though he knew it not, on the very place once
+consecrated by the Temple: the Portico and the Library of Liberty (the
+first public library instituted in Rome). The wall of the ruin was
+covered with innumerable creepers and wild brushwood, and it required
+but little agility on the part of Montreal, by the help of these, to
+raise himself to the height of the aperture, and, concealed by the
+luxuriant foliage, to gaze within. He saw a table, lighted with tapers,
+in the centre of which was a crucifix; a dagger, unsheathed; an open
+scroll, which the event proved to be of sacred character; and a brazen
+bowl. About a hundred men, in cloaks, and with black vizards, stood
+motionless around; and one, taller than the rest, without disguise or
+mask--whose pale brow and stern features seemed by that light yet
+paler and yet more stern--appeared to be concluding some address to his
+companions.
+
+“Yes,” said he, “in the church of the Lateran I will make the last
+appeal to the people. Supported by the Vicar of the Pope, myself an
+officer of the Pontiff, it will be seen that Religion and Liberty--the
+heroes and the martyrs--are united in one cause. After that time, words
+are idle; action must begin. By this crucifix I pledge my faith, on this
+blade I devote my life, to the regeneration of Rome! And you (then no
+need for mask or mantle!), when the solitary trump is heard, when the
+solitary horseman is seen,--you, swear to rally round the standard of
+the Republic, and resist--with heart and hand, with life and soul,
+in defiance of death, and in hope of redemption--the arms of the
+oppressor!”
+
+“We swear--we swear!” exclaimed every voice: and, crowding toward cross
+and weapon, the tapers were obscured by the intervening throng, and
+Montreal could not perceive the ceremony, nor hear the muttered
+formula of the oath: but he could guess that the rite then common to
+conspiracies--and which required each conspirator to shed some drops
+of his own blood, in token that life itself was devoted to the
+enterprise--had not been omitted, when, the group again receding, the
+same figure as before had addressed the meeting, holding on high the
+bowl with both hands,--while from the left arm, which was bared,
+the blood weltered slowly, and trickled, drop by drop, upon the
+ground,--said, in a solemn voice and upturned eyes:
+
+“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’, to whom a later age would fain have
+attributed all the disgrace, and which, more perhaps than even heavier
+offences, excited the classical indignation of Petrarch, and made him
+sympathise with Rienzi in his hopes of Rome. Still may you see
+the churches of that or even earlier dates, of the most shapeless
+architecture, built on the sites, and from the marbles, consecrating
+(rather than consecrated by) the names of Venus, of Jupiter, of Minerva.
+The palace of the Prince of the Orsini, duke of Gravina, is yet reared
+above the graceful arches (still visible) of the theatre of Marcellus;
+then a fortress of the Savelli.
+
+As Adrian passed the court, a heavy waggon blocked up the way, laden
+with huge marbles, dug from the unexhausted mine of the Golden House
+of Nero: they were intended for an additional tower, by which Stephen
+Colonna proposed yet more to strengthen the tasteless and barbarous
+edifice in which the old noble maintained the dignity of outraging the
+law.
+
+The friend of Petrarch and the pupil of Rienzi sighed deeply as he
+passed this vehicle of new spoliations, and as a pillar of fluted
+alabaster, rolling carelessly from the waggon, fell with a loud crash
+upon the pavement. At the foot of the stairs grouped some dozen of the
+bandits whom the old Colonna entertained: they were playing at dice upon
+an ancient tomb, the clear and deep inscription on which (so different
+from the slovenly character of the later empire) bespoke it a memorial
+of the most powerful age of Rome, and which, now empty even of ashes,
+and upset, served for a table to these foreign savages, and was strewn,
+even at that early hour, with fragments of meat and flasks of wine. They
+scarcely stirred, they scarcely looked up, as the young noble passed
+them; and their fierce oaths and loud ejaculations, uttered in a
+northern patois, grated harsh upon his ear, as he mounted, with a slow
+step, the lofty and unclean stairs. He came into a vast ante-chamber,
+which was half-filled with the higher class of the patrician’s
+retainers: some five or six pages, chosen from the inferior noblesse,
+congregated by a narrow and deep-sunk casement, were discussing the
+grave matters of gallantry and intrigue; three petty chieftains of the
+band below, with their corselets donned, and their swords and casques
+beside them, were sitting, stolid and silent, at a table, in the middle
+of the room, and might have been taken for automatons, save for
+the solemn regularity with which they ever and anon lifted to their
+moustachioed lips their several goblets, and then, with a complacent
+grunt, re-settled to their contemplations. Striking was the contrast
+which their northern phlegm presented to a crowd of Italian clients, and
+petitioners, and parasites, who walked restlessly to and fro, talking
+loudly to each other, with all the vehement gestures and varying
+physiognomy of southern vivacity. There was a general stir and sensation
+as Adrian broke upon this miscellaneous company. The bandit captains
+nodded their heads mechanically; the pages bowed, and admired the
+fashion of his plume and hose; the clients, and petitioners, and
+parasites, crowded round him, each with a separate request for interest
+with his potent kinsman. Great need had Adrian of his wonted urbanity
+and address, in extricating himself from their grasp; and painfully
+did he win, at last, the low and narrow door, at which stood a tall
+servitor, who admitted or rejected the applicants, according to his
+interest or caprice.
+
+“Is the Baron alone?” asked Adrian.
+
+“Why, no, my Lord: a foreign signor is with him--but to you he is of
+course visible.”
+
+“Well, you may admit me. I would inquire of his health.”
+
+The servitor opened the door--through whose aperture peered many a
+jealous and wistful eye--and consigned Adrian to the guidance of a page,
+who, older and of greater esteem than the loiterers in the ante-room,
+was the especial henchman of the Lord of the Castle. Passing another,
+but empty chamber, vast and dreary, Adrian found himself in a small
+cabinet, and in the presence of his kinsman.
+
+Before a table, bearing the implements of writing, sate the old Colonna:
+a robe of rich furs and velvet hung loose upon his tall and stately
+frame; from a round skull-cap, of comforting warmth and crimson hue, a
+few grey locks descended, and mixed with a long and reverent beard. The
+countenance of the aged noble, who had long passed his eightieth year,
+still retained the traces of a comeliness for which in earlier manhood
+he was remarkable. His eyes, if deep-sunken, were still keen and lively,
+and sparkled with all the fire of youth; his mouth curved upward in a
+pleasant, though half-satiric, smile; and his appearance on the whole
+was prepossessing and commanding, indicating rather the high blood, the
+shrewd wit, and the gallant valour of the patrician, than his craft,
+hypocrisy, and habitual but disdainful spirit of oppression.
+
+Stephen Colonna, without being absolutely a hero, was indeed far braver
+than most of the Romans, though he held fast to the Italian maxim--never
+to fight an enemy while it is possible to cheat him. Two faults,
+however, marred the effect of his sagacity: a supreme insolence of
+disposition, and a profound belief in the lights of his experience. He
+was incapable of analogy. What had never happened in his time, he was
+perfectly persuaded never could happen. Thus, though generally esteemed
+an able diplomatist, he had the cunning of the intriguant, and not
+the providence of a statesman. If, however, pride made him arrogant
+in prosperity, it supported him in misfortune. And in the earlier
+vicissitudes of a life which had partly been consumed in exile, he
+had developed many noble qualities of fortitude, endurance, and real
+greatness of soul; which showed that his failings were rather acquired
+by circumstance than derived from nature. His numerous and highborn race
+were proud of their chief; and with justice; for he was the ablest and
+most honoured, not only of the direct branch of the Colonna, but also,
+perhaps, of all the more powerful barons.
+
+Seated at the same table with Stephen Colonna was a man of noble
+presence, of about three or four and thirty years of age, in whom Adrian
+instantly recognised Walter de Montreal. This celebrated knight was
+scarcely of the personal appearance which might have corresponded with
+the terror his name generally excited. His face was handsome, almost to
+the extreme of womanish delicacy. His fair hair waved long and freely
+over a white and unwrinkled forehead: the life of a camp and the suns of
+Italy had but little embrowned his clear and healthful complexion, which
+retained much of the bloom of youth. His features were aquiline
+and regular; his eyes, of a light hazel, were large, bright, and
+penetrating; and a short, but curled beard and moustachio, trimmed
+with soldier-like precision, and very little darker than the hair, gave
+indeed a martial expression to his comely countenance, but rather the
+expression which might have suited the hero of courts and tournaments,
+than the chief of a brigand’s camp. The aspect, manner, and bearing, of
+the Provencal were those which captivate rather than awe,--blending,
+as they did, a certain military frankness with the easy and graceful
+dignity of one conscious of gentle birth, and accustomed to mix, on
+equal terms, with the great and noble. His form happily contrasted and
+elevated the character of a countenance which required strength and
+stature to free its uncommon beauty from the charge of effeminacy,
+being of great height and remarkable muscular power, without the least
+approach to clumsy and unwieldy bulk: it erred, indeed, rather to the
+side of leanness than flesh,--at once robust and slender. But the chief
+personal distinction of this warrior, the most redoubted lance of Italy,
+was an air and carriage of chivalric and heroic grace, greatly set off
+at this time by his splendid dress, which was of brown velvet sown with
+pearls, over which hung the surcoat worn by the Knights of the Hospital,
+whereon was wrought, in white, the eight-pointed cross that made
+the badge of his order. The Knight’s attitude was that of earnest
+conversation, bending slightly forward towards the Colonna, and resting
+both his hands--which (according to the usual distinction of the old
+Norman race, (Small hands and feet, however disproportioned to the rest
+of the person, were at that time deemed no less a distinction of the
+well-born, than they have been in a more refined age. Many readers
+will remember the pain occasioned to Petrarch by his tight shoes. The
+supposed beauty of this peculiarity is more derived from the feudal than
+the classic time.) from whom, though born in Provence, Montreal boasted
+his descent) were small and delicate, the fingers being covered with
+jewels, as was the fashion of the day--upon the golden hilt of an
+enormous sword, on the sheath of which was elaborately wrought the
+silver lilies that made the device of the Provencal Brotherhood of
+Jerusalem.
+
+“Good morrow, fair kinsman!” said Stephen. “Seat thyself, I pray; and
+know in this knightly visitor the celebrated Sieur de Montreal.”
+
+“Ah, my Lord,” said Montreal, smiling, as he saluted Adrian; “and how is
+my lady at home?”
+
+“You mistake, Sir Knight,” quoth Stephen; “my young kinsman is not yet
+married: faith, as Pope Boniface remarked, when he lay stretched on a
+sick bed, and his confessor talked to him about Abraham’s bosom, ‘that
+is a pleasure the greater for being deferred.’”
+
+“The Signor will pardon my mistake,” returned Montreal.
+
+“But not,” said Adrian, “the neglect of Sir Walter in not ascertaining
+the fact in person. My thanks to him, noble kinsman, are greater than
+you weet of; and he promised to visit me, that he might receive them at
+leisure.”
+
+“I assure you, Signor,” answered Montreal, “that I have not forgotten
+the invitation; but so weighty hitherto have been my affairs at Rome,
+that I have been obliged to parley with my impatience to better our
+acquaintance.”
+
+“Oh, ye knew each other before?” said Stephen. “And how?”
+
+“My Lord, there is a damsel in the case!” replied Montreal. “Excuse my
+silence.”
+
+“Ah, Adrian, Adrian! when will you learn my continence!” said Stephen,
+solemnly stroking his grey beard. “What an example I set you! But a
+truce to this light conversation,--let us resume our theme. You must
+know, Adrian, that it is to the brave band of my guest I am indebted for
+those valiant gentlemen below, who keep Rome so quiet, though my poor
+habitation so noisy. He has called to proffer more assistance, if need
+be; and to advise me on the affairs of Northern Italy. Continue, I pray
+thee, Sir Knight; I have no disguises from my kinsman.”
+
+“Thou seest,” said Montreal, fixing his penetrating eyes on Adrian,
+“thou seest, doubtless, my Lord, that Italy at this moment presents to
+us a remarkable spectacle. It is a contest between two opposing powers,
+which shall destroy the other. The one power is that of the unruly and
+turbulent people--a power which they call ‘Liberty;’ the other power is
+that of the chiefs and princes--a power which they more appropriately
+call ‘Order.’ Between these parties the cities of Italy are divided.
+In Florence, in Genoa, in Pisa, for instance, is established a Free
+State--a Republic, God wot! and a more riotous, unhappy state of
+government, cannot well be imagined.”
+
+“That is perfectly true,” quoth Stephen; “they banished my own first
+cousin from Genoa.”
+
+“A perpetual strife, in short,” continued Montreal, “between the
+great families; an alternation of prosecutions, and confiscations, and
+banishments: today, the Guelfs proscribe the Ghibellines--tomorrow, the
+Ghibellines drive out the Guelfs. This may be liberty, but it is the
+liberty of the strong against the weak. In the other cities, as Milan,
+as Verona, as Bologna, the people are under the rule of one man,--who
+calls himself a prince, and whom his enemies call a tyrant. Having more
+force than any other citizen, he preserves a firm government; having
+more constant demand on his intellect and energies than the other
+citizens, he also preserves a wise one. These two orders of government
+are enlisted against each other: whenever the people in the one rebel
+against their prince, the people of the other--that is, the Free
+States--send arms and money to their assistance.”
+
+“You hear, Adrian, how wicked those last are,” quoth Stephen.
+
+“Now it seems to me,” continued Montreal, “that this contest must end
+some time or other. All Italy must become republican or monarchical. It
+is easy to predict which will be the result.”
+
+“Yes, Liberty must conquer in the end!” said Adrian, warmly.
+
+“Pardon me, young Lord; my opinion is entirely the reverse. You perceive
+that these republics are commercial,--are traders; they esteem wealth,
+they despise valour, they cultivate all trades save that of the
+armourer. Accordingly, how do they maintain themselves in war: by their
+own citizens? Not a whit of it! Either they send to some foreign chief,
+and promise, if he grant them his protection, the principality of the
+city for five or ten years in return; or else they borrow from some
+hardy adventurer, like myself, as many troops as they can afford to pay
+for. Is it not so, Lord Adrian?”
+
+Adrian nodded his reluctant assent.
+
+“Well, then, it is the fault of the foreign chief if he do not make his
+power permanent; as has been already done in States once free by the
+Visconti and the Scala: or else it is the fault of the captain of the
+mercenaries if he do not convert his brigands into senators, and himself
+into a king. These are events so natural, that one day or other
+they will occur throughout all Italy. And all Italy will then become
+monarchical. Now it seems to me the interest of all the powerful
+families--your own, at Rome, as that of the Visconti, at Milan--to
+expedite this epoch, and to check, while you yet may with ease, that
+rebellious contagion amongst the people which is now rapidly spreading,
+and which ends in the fever of licence to them, but in the corruption of
+death to you. In these free States, the nobles are the first to suffer:
+first your privileges, then your property, are swept away. Nay, in
+Florence, as ye well know, my Lords, no noble is even capable of holding
+the meanest office in the State!”
+
+“Villains!” said Colonna, “they violate the first law of nature!”
+
+“At this moment,” resumed Montreal, who, engrossed with his subject,
+little heeded the interruptions he received from the holy indignation of
+the Baron: “at this moment, there are many--the wisest, perhaps, in the
+free States--who desire to renew the old Lombard leagues, in defence of
+their common freedom everywhere, and against whosoever shall aspire to
+be prince. Fortunately, the deadly jealousies between these
+merchant States--the base plebeian jealousies--more of trade than of
+glory--interpose at present an irresistible obstacle to this design; and
+Florence, the most stirring and the most esteemed of all, is happily so
+reduced by reverses of commerce as to be utterly unable to follow out
+so great an undertaking. Now, then, is the time for us, my Lords; while
+these obstacles are so great for our foes, now is the time for us to
+form and cement a counter-league between all the princes of Italy. To
+you, noble Stephen, I have come, as your rank demands,--alone, of all
+the barons of Rome,--to propose to you this honourable union. Observe
+what advantages it proffers to your house. The popes have abandoned Rome
+for ever; there is no counterpoise to your ambition,--there need be none
+to your power. You see before you the examples of Visconti and Taddeo
+di Pepoli. You may found in Rome, the first city of Italy, a supreme and
+uncontrolled principality, subjugate utterly your weaker rivals,--the
+Savelli, the Malatesta, the Orsini,--and leave to your sons’ sons an
+hereditary kingdom that may aspire once more, perhaps, to the empire of
+the world.”
+
+Stephen shaded his face with his hand as he answered: “But this, noble
+Montreal, requires means:--money and men.”
+
+“Of the last, you can command from me enow--my small company, the best
+disciplined, can (whenever I please) swell to the most numerous in
+Italy: in the first, noble Baron, the rich House of Colonna cannot fail;
+and even a mortgage on its vast estates may be well repaid when you have
+possessed yourselves of the whole revenues of Rome. You see,” continued
+Montreal, turning to Adrian, in whose youth he expected a more warm ally
+than in the his hoary kinsman: “you see, at a glance, how feasible is
+this project, and what a mighty field it opens to your House.”
+
+“Sir Walter de Montreal,” said Adrian, rising from his seat, and giving
+vent to the indignation he had with difficulty suppressed, “I grieve
+much that, beneath the roof of the first citizen of Rome, a stranger
+should attempt thus calmly, and without interruption, to excite the
+ambition of emulating the execrated celebrity of a Visconti or a Pepoli.
+Speak, my Lord! (turning to Stephen)--speak, noble kinsman! and tell
+this Knight of Provence, that if by a Colonna the ancient grandeur of
+Rome cannot be restored, it shall not be, at least, by a Colonna that
+her last wrecks of liberty shall be swept away.”
+
+“How now, Adrian!--how now, sweet kinsman!” said Stephen, thus suddenly
+appealed to, “calm thyself, I pr’ythee. Noble Sir Walter, he is
+young--young, and hasty--he means not to offend thee.”
+
+“Of that I am persuaded,” returned Montreal, coldly, but with great
+and courteous command of temper. “He speaks from the impulse of the
+moment,--a praiseworthy fault in youth. It was mine at his age, and
+many a time have I nearly lost my life for the rashness. Nay, Signor,
+nay!--touch not your sword so meaningly, as if you fancied I intimated a
+threat; far from me such presumption. I have learned sufficient caution,
+believe me, in the wars, not wantonly to draw against me a blade which I
+have seen wielded against such odds.”
+
+Touched, despite himself, by the courtesy of the Knight, and the
+allusion to a scene in which, perhaps, his life had been preserved by
+Montreal, Adrian extended his hand to the latter.
+
+“I was to blame for my haste,” said he, frankly; “but know, by my very
+heat,” he added more gravely, “that your project will find no friends
+among the Colonna. Nay, in the presence of my noble kinsman, I dare
+to tell you, that could even his high sanction lend itself to such a
+scheme, the best hearts of his house would desert him; and I myself, his
+kinsman, would man yonder castle against so unnatural an ambition!”
+
+A slight and scarce perceptible cloud passed over Montreal’s countenance
+at these words; and he bit his lip ere he replied:
+
+“Yet if the Orsini be less scrupulous, their first exertion of power
+would be heard in the crashing house of the Colonna.”
+
+“Know you,” returned Adrian, “that one of our mottoes is this haughty
+address to the Romans,--‘If we fall, ye fall also?’ And better that
+fate, than a rise upon the wrecks of our native city.”
+
+“Well, well, well!” said Montreal, reseating himself, “I see that I must
+leave Rome to herself,--the League must thrive without her aid. I did
+but jest, touching the Orsini, for they have not the power that would
+make their efforts safe. Let us sweep, then, our past conference from
+our recollection. It is the nineteenth, I think, Lord Colonna, on which
+you propose to repair to Corneto, with your friends and retainers, and
+on which you have invited my attendance?”
+
+“It is on that day, Sir Knight,” replied the Baron, evidently much
+relieved by the turn the conversation had assumed. “The fact is, that
+we have been so charged with indifference to the interests of the good
+people, that I strain a point in this expedition to contradict the
+assertion; and we propose, therefore, to escort and protect, against the
+robbers of the road, a convoy of corn to Corneto. In truth, I may add
+another reason, besides fear of the robbers, that makes me desire as
+numerous a train as possible. I wish to show my enemies, and the people
+generally, the solid and growing power of my house; the display of
+such an armed band as I hope to levy, will be a magnificent occasion
+to strike awe into the riotous and refractory. Adrian, you will collect
+your servitors, I trust, on that day; we would not be without you.”
+
+“And as we ride along, fair Signor,” said Montreal, inclining to Adrian,
+“we will find at least one subject on which we can agree: all brave men
+and true knights have one common topic,--and its name is Woman. You must
+make me acquainted with the names of the fairest dames of Rome; and we
+will discuss old adventures in the Parliament of Love, and hope for
+new. By the way, I suppose, Lord Adrian, you, with the rest of your
+countrymen, are Petrarch-stricken?”
+
+“Do you not share our enthusiasm? slur not so your gallantry, I pray
+you.”
+
+“Come, we must not again disagree; but, by my halidame, I think one
+troubadour roundel worth all that Petrarch ever wrote. He has but
+borrowed from our knightly poesy, to disguise it, like a carpet
+coxcomb.”
+
+“Well,” said Adrian, gaily, “for every line of the troubadours that
+you quote, I will cite you another. I will forgive you for injustice to
+Petrarch, if you are just to the troubadours.”
+
+“Just!” cried Montreal, with real enthusiasm: “I am of the land, nay
+the very blood of the troubadour! But we grow too light for your noble
+kinsman; and it is time for me to bid you, for the present, farewell. My
+Lord Colonna, peace be with you; farewell, Sir Adrian,--brother mine in
+knighthood,--remember your challenge.”
+
+And with an easy and careless grace the Knight of St. John took his
+leave. The old Baron, making a dumb sign of excuse to Adrian, followed
+Montreal into the adjoining room.
+
+“Sir Knight!” said he, “Sir Knight!” as he closed the door upon Adrian,
+and then drew Montreal to the recess of the casement,--“a word in your
+ear. Think not I slight your offer, but these young men must be managed;
+the plot is great--noble,--grateful to my heart; but it requires time
+and caution. I have many of my house, scrupulous as yon hot-skull, to
+win over; the way is pleasant, but must be sounded well and carefully;
+you understand?”
+
+From under his bent brows, Montreal darted one keen glance at Stephen,
+and then answered:
+
+“My friendship for you dictated my offer. The League may stand without
+the Colonna,--beware a time when the Colonna cannot stand without the
+League. My Lord, look well around you; there are more freemen--ay, bold
+and stirring ones, too--in Rome, than you imagine. Beware Rienzi! Adieu,
+we meet soon again.”
+
+Thus saying, Montreal departed, soliloquising as he passed with his
+careless step through the crowded ante-room:
+
+“I shall fail here!--these caitiff nobles have neither the courage to
+be great, nor the wisdom to be honest. Let them fall!--I may find an
+adventurer from the people, an adventurer like myself, worth them all.”
+
+No sooner had Stephen returned to Adrian than he flung his arms
+affectionately round his ward, who was preparing his pride for some
+sharp rebuke for his petulance.
+
+“Nobly feigned,--admirable, admirable!” cried the Baron; “you have
+learned the true art of a statesman at the Emperor’s court. I always
+thought you would--always said it. You saw the dilemma I was in,
+thus taken by surprise by that barbarian’s mad scheme; afraid to
+refuse,--more afraid to accept. You extricated me with consummate
+address: that passion,--so natural to your age,--was a famous feint;
+drew off the attack; gave me time to breathe; allowed me to play with
+the savage. But we must not offend him, you know: all my retainers would
+desert me, or sell me to the Orsini, or cut my throat, if he but held up
+his finger. Oh! it was admirably managed, Adrian--admirably!”
+
+“Thank Heaven!” said Adrian, with some difficulty recovering the breath
+which his astonishment had taken away, “you do not think of embracing
+that black proposition?”
+
+“Think of it! no, indeed!” said Stephen, throwing himself back on his
+chair. “Why, do you not know my age, boy? Hard on my ninetieth year, I
+should be a fool indeed to throw myself into such a whirl of turbulence
+and agitation. I want to keep what I have, not risk it by grasping more.
+Am I not the beloved of the pope? shall I hazard his excommunication? Am
+I not the most powerful of the nobles? should I be more if I were king?
+At my age, to talk to me of such stuff!--the man’s an idiot. Besides,”
+ added the old man, sinking his voice, and looking fearfully round, “if
+I were a king, my sons might poison me for the succession. They are
+good lads, Adrian, very! But such a temptation!--I would not throw it in
+their way; these grey hairs have experience! Tyrants don’t die a natural
+death; no, no! Plague on the Knight, say I; he has already cast me into
+a cold sweat.”
+
+Adrian gazed on the working features of the old man, whose selfishness
+thus preserved him from crime. He listened to his concluding words--full
+of the dark truth of the times; and as the high and pure ambition of
+Rienzi flashed upon him in contrast, he felt that he could not blame its
+fervour, or wonder at its excess.
+
+“And then, too,” resumed the Baron, speaking more deliberately as he
+recovered his self-possession, “this man, by way of a warning, shows me,
+at a glance, his whole ignorance of the state. What think you? he has
+mingled with the mob, and taken their rank breath for power; yes, he
+thinks words are soldiers, and bade me--me, Stephen Colonna--beware--of
+whom, think you? No, you will never guess!--of that speech-maker,
+Rienzi! my own old jesting guest! Ha! ha! ha!--the ignorance of these
+barbarians! Ha! ha! ha! and the old man laughed till the tears ran down
+his cheeks.
+
+“Yet many of the nobles fear that same Rienzi,” said Adrian, gravely.
+
+“Ah! let them, let them!--they have not our experience--our knowledge
+of the world, Adrian. Tut, man,--when did declamation ever overthrow
+castles, and conquer soldiery? I like Rienzi to harangue the mob about
+old Rome, and such stuff; it gives them something to think of and prate
+about, and so all their fierceness evaporates in words; they might burn
+a house if they did not hear a speech. But, now I am on that score, I
+must own the pedant has grown impudent in his new office; here, here,--I
+received this paper ere I rose today. I hear a similar insolence has
+been shown to all the nobles. Read it, will you,” and the Colonna put a
+scroll into his kinsman’s hand.
+
+“I have received the like,” said Adrian, glancing at it. “It is a
+request of Rienzi’s to attend at the Church of St. John of Lateran, to
+hear explained the inscription on a Table just discovered. It bears, he
+saith, the most intimate connexion with the welfare and state of Rome.”
+
+“Very entertaining, I dare to say, to professors and bookmen. Pardon me,
+kinsman; I forgot your taste for these things; and my son, Gianni, too,
+shares your fantasy. Well, well! it is innocent enough! Go--the man
+talks well.”
+
+“Will you not attend, too?”
+
+“I--my dear boy--I!” said the old Colonna, opening his eyes in such
+astonishment that Adrian could not help laughing at the simplicity of
+his own question.
+
+
+
+Chapter 2.II. The Interview, and the Doubt.
+
+As Adrian turned from the palace of his guardian, and bent his way in
+the direction of the Forum, he came somewhat unexpectedly upon Raimond,
+bishop of Orvietto, who, mounted upon a low palfrey, and accompanied
+by some three or four of his waiting-men, halted abruptly when he
+recognised the young noble.
+
+“Ah, my son! it is seldom that I see thee: how fares it with
+thee?--well? So, so! I rejoice to hear it. Alas! what a state of society
+is ours, when compared to the tranquil pleasures of Avignon! There,
+all men who, like us, are fond of the same pursuits, the same studies,
+deliciae musarum, hum! hum! (the Bishop was proud of an occasional
+quotation, right or wrong), are brought easily and naturally together.
+But here we scarcely dare stir out of our houses, save upon great
+occasions. But, talking of great occasions, and the Muses, reminds me of
+our good Rienzi’s invitation to the Lateran: of course you will attend;
+‘tis a mighty knotty piece of Latin he proposes to solve--so I hear, at
+least; very interesting to us, my son,--very!”
+
+“It is tomorrow,” answered Adrian. “Yes, assuredly; I will be there.”
+
+“And, harkye, my son,” said the Bishop, resting his hand affectionately
+on Adrian’s shoulder, “I have reason to hope that he will remind our
+poor citizens of the Jubilee for the year Fifty, and stir them towards
+clearing the road of the brigands: a necessary injunction, and one to be
+heeded timeously; for who will come here for absolution when he stands
+a chance of rushing unannealed upon purgatory by the way? You have heard
+Rienzi,--ay? quite a Cicero--quite! Well, Heaven bless you, my son! You
+will not fail?”
+
+“Nay, not I.”
+
+“Yet, stay--a word with you: just suggest to all whom you may meet
+the advisability of a full meeting; it looks well for the city to show
+respect to letters.”
+
+“To say nothing of the Jubilee,” added Adrian, smiling.
+
+“Ah, to say nothing of the Jubilee--very good! Adieu for the present!”
+ And the Bishop, resettling himself on his saddle, ambled solemnly on to
+visit his various friends, and press them to the meeting.
+
+Meanwhile, Adrian continued his course till he had passed the Capitol,
+the Arch of Severus, the crumbling columns of the fane of Jupiter,
+and found himself amidst the long grass, the whispering reeds, and the
+neglected vines, that wave over the now-vanished pomp of the Golden
+House of Nero. Seating himself on a fallen pillar--by that spot where
+the traveller descends to the (so called) Baths of Livia--he looked
+impatiently to the sun, as to blame it for the slowness of its march.
+
+Not long, however, had he to wait before a light step was heard crushing
+the fragrant grass; and presently through the arching vines gleamed a
+face that might well have seemed the nymph, the goddess of the scene.
+
+“My beautiful! my Irene!--how shall I thank thee!”
+
+It was long before the delighted lover suffered himself to observe upon
+Irene’s face a sadness that did not usually cloud it in his presence.
+Her voice, too, trembled; her words seemed constrained and cold.
+
+“Have I offended thee?” he asked; “or what less misfortune hath
+occurred?”
+
+Irene raised her eyes to her lover’s, and said, looking at him
+earnestly, “Tell me, my Lord, in sober and simple truth, tell me, would
+it grieve thee much were this to be our last meeting?”
+
+Paler than the marble at his feet grew the dark cheek of Adrian. It was
+some moments ere he could reply, and he did so then with a forced smile
+and a quivering lip.
+
+“Jest not so, Irene! Last!--that is not a word for us!”
+
+“But hear me, my Lord--”
+
+“Why so cold?--call me Adrian!--friend!--lover! or be dumb!”
+
+“Well, then, my soul’s soul! my all of hope! my life’s life!” exclaimed
+Irene, passionately, “hear me! I fear that we stand at this moment upon
+some gulf whose depth I see not, but which may divide us for ever! Thou
+knowest the real nature of my brother, and dost not misread him as many
+do. Long has he planned, and schemed, and communed with himself, and,
+feeling his way amidst the people, prepared the path to some great
+design. But now--(thou wilt not betray--thou wilt not injure him?--he is
+thy friend!)”
+
+“And thy brother! I would give my life for his! Say on!”
+
+“But now, then,” resumed Irene, “the time for that enterprise, whatever
+it be, is coming fast. I know not of its exact nature, but I know that
+it is against the nobles--against thy order--against thy house itself!
+If it succeed--oh, Adrian! thou thyself mayst not be free from danger;
+and my name, at least, will be coupled with the name of thy foes. If it
+fail,--my brother, my bold brother, is swept away! He will fall a victim
+to revenge or justice, call it as you will. Your kinsman may be his
+judge--his executioner; and I--even if I should yet live to mourn over
+the boast and glory of my humble line--could I permit myself to love,
+to see, one in whose veins flowed the blood of his destroyer? Oh! I am
+wretched--wretched! these thoughts make me well-nigh mad!” and, wringing
+her hands bitterly, Irene sobbed aloud.
+
+Adrian himself was struck forcibly by the picture thus presented to
+him, although the alternative it embraced had often before forced itself
+dimly on his mind. It was true, however, that, not seeing the schemes of
+Rienzi backed by any physical power, and never yet having witnessed the
+mighty force of a moral revolution, he did not conceive that any rise
+to which he might instigate the people could be permanently successful:
+and, as for his punishment, in that city, where all justice was the
+slave of interest, Adrian knew himself powerful enough to obtain
+forgiveness even for the greatest of all crimes--armed insurrection
+against the nobles. As these thoughts recurred to him, he gained the
+courage to console and cheer Irene. But his efforts were only partially
+successful. Awakened by her fears to that consideration of the future
+which hitherto she had forgotten, Irene, for the first time, seemed deaf
+to the charmer’s voice.
+
+“Alas!” said she, sadly, “even at the best, what can this love, that we
+have so blindly encouraged--what can it end in? Thou must not wed with
+one like me; and I! how foolish I have been!”
+
+“Recall thy senses then, Irene,” said Adrian, proudly, partly perhaps
+in anger, partly in his experience of the sex. “Love another, and more
+wisely, if thou wilt; cancel thy vows with me, and continue to think it
+a crime to love, and a folly to be true!”
+
+“Cruel!” said Irene, falteringly, and in her turn alarmed. “Dost thou
+speak in earnest?”
+
+“Tell me, ere I answer you, tell me this: come death, come anguish, come
+a whole life of sorrow, as the end of this love, wouldst thou yet repent
+that thou hast loved? If so, thou knowest not the love that I feel for
+thee.”
+
+“Never! never can I repent!” said Irene, falling upon Adrian’s neck;
+“forgive me!”
+
+“But is there, in truth,” said Adrian, a little while after this
+lover-like quarrel and reconciliation, “is there, in truth, so marked
+a difference between thy brother’s past and his present bearing? How
+knowest thou that the time for action is so near?”
+
+“Because now he sits closeted whole nights with all ranks of men; he
+shuts up his books,--he reads no more,--but, when alone, walks to and
+fro his chamber, muttering to himself. Sometimes he pauses before the
+calendar, which of late he has fixed with his own hand against the wall,
+and passes his finger over the letters, till he comes to some chosen
+date, and then he plays with his sword and smiles. But two nights since,
+arms, too, in great number were brought to the house; and I heard the
+chief of the men who brought them, a grim giant, known well amongst the
+people, say, as he wiped his brow,--‘These will see work soon!’”
+
+“Arms! Are you sure of that?” said Adrian, anxiously. “Nay, then, there
+is more in these schemes than I imagined! But (observing Irene’s gaze
+bent fearfully on him as his voice changed, he added, more gaily)--but
+come what may, believe me--my beautiful! my adored! that while I live,
+thy brother shall not suffer from the wrath he may provoke,--nor I,
+though he forget our ancient friendship, cease to love thee less.”
+
+“Signora! Signora! child! it is time! we must go!” said the shrill voice
+of Benedetta, now peering through the foliage. “The working men pass
+home this way; I see them approaching.”
+
+The lovers parted; for the first time the serpent had penetrated into
+their Eden,--they had conversed, they had thought, of other things than
+Love.
+
+
+
+Chapter 2.III. The Situation of a Popular Patrician in Times of Popular
+Discontent.--Scene of the Lateran.
+
+The situation of a Patrician who honestly loves the people is, in those
+evil times, when power oppresses and freedom struggles,--when the two
+divisions of men are wrestling against each other,--the most irksome and
+perplexing that destiny can possibly contrive. Shall he take part with
+the nobles?--he betrays his conscience! With the people?--he deserts
+his friends! But that consequence of the last alternative is not the
+sole--nor, perhaps, to a strong mind, the most severe. All men are
+swayed and chained by public opinion--it is the public judge; but public
+opinion is not the same for all ranks. The public opinion that excites
+or deters the plebeian, is the opinion of the plebeians,--of those
+whom he sees, and meets, and knows; of those with whom he is brought
+in contact,--those with whom he has mixed from childhood,--those whose
+praises are daily heard,--whose censure frowns upon him with every
+hour. (It is the same in still smaller divisions. The public opinion for
+lawyers is that of lawyers; of soldiers, that of the army; of scholars,
+it is that of men of literature and science. And to the susceptible
+amongst the latter, the hostile criticism of learning has been more
+stinging than the severest moral censures of the vulgar. Many a man has
+done a great act, or composed a great work, solely to please the two
+or three persons constantly present to him. Their voice was his public
+opinion. The public opinion that operated on Bishop, the murderer, was
+the opinion of the Burkers, his comrades. Did that condemn him? No! He
+knew no other public opinion till he came to be hanged, and caught the
+loathing eyes, and heard the hissing execrations of the crowd below his
+gibbet.) So, also, the public opinion of the great is the opinion of
+their equals,--of those whom birth and accident cast for ever in their
+way. This distinction is full of important practical deductions; it
+is one which, more than most maxims, should never be forgotten by a
+politician who desires to be profound. It is, then, an ordeal terrible
+to pass--which few plebeians ever pass, which it is therefore unjust to
+expect patricians to cross unfaulteringly--the ordeal of opposing the
+public opinion which exists for them. They cannot help doubting their
+own judgment,--they cannot help thinking the voice of wisdom or of
+virtue speaks in those sounds which have been deemed oracles from
+their cradle. In the tribunal of Sectarian Prejudice they imagine
+they recognise the court of the Universal Conscience. Another powerful
+antidote to the activity of a patrician so placed, is in the certainty
+that to the last the motives of such activity will be alike misconstrued
+by the aristocracy he deserts and the people he joins. It seems so
+unnatural in a man to fly in the face of his own order, that the world
+is willing to suppose any clue to the mystery save that of honest
+conviction or lofty patriotism. “Ambition!” says one. “Disappointment!”
+ cries another. “Some private grudge!” hints a third. “Mob-courting
+vanity!” sneers a fourth. The people admire at first, but suspect
+afterwards. The moment he thwarts a popular wish, there is no redemption
+for him: he is accused of having acted the hypocrite,--of having worn
+the sheep’s fleece: and now, say they,--“See! the wolf’s teeth
+peep out!” Is he familiar with the people?--it is cajolery! Is he
+distant?--it is pride! What, then, sustains a man in such a situation,
+following his own conscience, with his eyes opened to all the perils
+of the path? Away with the cant of public opinion,--away with the poor
+delusion of posthumous justice; he will offend the first, he will never
+obtain the last. What sustains him? HIS OWN SOUL! A man thoroughly great
+has a certain contempt for his kind while he aids them: their weal or
+woe are all; their applause--their blame--are nothing to him. He walks
+forth from the circle of birth and habit; he is deaf to the little
+motives of little men. High, through the widest space his orbit may
+describe, he holds on his course to guide or to enlighten; but the
+noises below reach him not! Until the wheel is broken,--until the dark
+void swallow up the star,--it makes melody, night and day, to its own
+ear: thirsting for no sound from the earth it illumines, anxious for no
+companionship in the path through which it rolls, conscious of its own
+glory, and contented, therefore, to be alone!
+
+But minds of this order are rare. All ages cannot produce them. They
+are exceptions to the ordinary and human virtue, which is influenced
+and regulated by external circumstance. At a time when even to be merely
+susceptible to the voice of fame was a great pre-eminence in moral
+energies over the rest of mankind, it would be impossible that any
+one should ever have formed the conception of that more refined and
+metaphysical sentiment, that purer excitement to high deeds--that glory
+in one’s own heart, which is so immeasurably above the desire of a
+renown that lackeys the heels of others. In fact, before we can
+dispense with the world, we must, by a long and severe novitiate--by the
+probation of much thought, and much sorrow--by deep and sad conviction
+of the vanity of all that the world can give us, have raised our
+selves--not in the fervour of an hour, but habitually--above the world:
+an abstraction--an idealism--which, in our wiser age, how few even of
+the wisest, can attain! Yet, till we are thus fortunate, we know not
+the true divinity of contemplation, nor the all-sufficing mightiness of
+conscience; nor can we retreat with solemn footsteps into that Holy of
+Holies in our own souls, wherein we know, and feel, how much our nature
+is capable of the self-existence of a God!
+
+But to return to the things and thoughts of earth. Those considerations,
+and those links of circumstance, which, in a similar situation have
+changed so many honest and courageous minds, changed also the mind of
+Adrian. He felt in a false position. His reason and conscience shared in
+the schemes of Rienzi, and his natural hardihood and love of enterprise
+would have led him actively to share the danger of their execution. But
+this, all his associations, his friendships, his private and household
+ties, loudly forbade. Against his order, against his house, against the
+companions of his youth, how could he plot secretly, or act sternly?
+By the goal to which he was impelled by patriotism, stood hypocrisy and
+ingratitude. Who would believe him the honest champion of his country
+who was a traitor to his friends? Thus, indeed,
+
+     “The native hue of resolution
+     Was sicklied o’er with the pale cast of thought!”
+
+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.”
+
+And at those two rival shouts, you saw waving on high the golden bear of
+the Orsini, with the motto--“Beware my embrace!” and the solitary column
+on an azure ground, of the Colonna, with Adrian’s especial device--“Sad,
+but strong.” The train of Martino Orsini was much more numerous than
+that of Adrian, which last consisted but of ten servitors. But Adrian’s
+men attracted far greater admiration amongst the crowd, and pleased more
+the experienced eye of the warlike Knight of St. John. Their arms were
+polished like mirrors; their height was to an inch the same; their march
+was regular and sedate; their mien erect; they looked neither to the
+right nor left; they betrayed that ineffable discipline--that harmony
+of order--which Adrian had learned to impart to his men during his own
+apprenticeship of arms. But the disorderly train of the Lord of Porto
+was composed of men of all heights. Their arms were ill-polished and
+ill-fashioned, and they pressed confusedly on each other; they laughed
+and spoke aloud; and in their mien and bearing expressed all the
+insolence of men who despised alike the master they served and the
+people they awed. The two bands coming unexpectedly on each other
+through this narrow defile, the jealousy of the two houses presently
+declared itself. Each pressed forward for the precedence; and, as the
+quiet regularity of Adrian’s train, and even its compact paucity of
+numbers, enabled it to pass before the servitors of his rival, the
+populace set up a loud shout--“A Colonna for ever!”--“Let the Bear dance
+after the Column!”
+
+“On, ye knaves!” said Orsini aloud to his men. “How have ye suffered
+this affront?” And passing himself to the head of his men, he would have
+advanced through the midst of his rival’s train, had not a tall guard,
+in the Pope’s livery, placed his baton in the way.
+
+“Pardon, my Lord! we have the Vicar’s express commands to suffer no
+struggling of the different trains one with another.”
+
+“Knave! dost thou bandy words with me?” said the fierce Orsini; and with
+his sword he clove the baton in two.
+
+“In the Vicar’s name, I command you to fall back!” said the sturdy
+guard, now placing his huge bulk in the very front of the noble’s path.
+
+“It is Cecco del Vecchio!” cried those of the populace, who were near
+enough to perceive the interruption and its cause.
+
+“Ay,” said one, “the good Vicar has put many of the stoutest fellows
+in the Pope’s livery, in order the better to keep peace. He could have
+chosen none better than Cecco.”
+
+“But he must not fall!” cried another, as Orsini, glaring on the smith,
+drew back his sword as if to plunge it through his bosom.
+
+“Shame--shame! shall the Pope be thus insulted in his own city?” cried
+several voices. “Down with the sacrilegious--down!” And, as if by a
+preconcerted plan, a whole body of the mob broke at once through
+the lane, and swept like a torrent over Orsini and his jostled and
+ill-assorted train. Orsini himself was thrown on the ground with
+violence, and trampled upon by a hundred footsteps; his men, huddled and
+struggling as much against themselves as against the mob, were scattered
+and overset; and when, by a great effort of the guards, headed by the
+smith himself, order was again restored, and the line reformed, Orsini,
+well nigh choked with his rage and humiliation, and greatly bruised by
+the rude assaults he had received, could scarcely stir from the ground.
+The officers of the Pope raised him, and, when he was on his legs, he
+looked wildly around for his sword, which, falling from his hand, had
+been kicked amongst the crowd, and seeing it not, he said, between his
+ground teeth, to Cecco del Vecchio--
+
+“Fellow, thy neck shall answer this outrage, or may God desert me!” and
+passed along through the space; while a half-suppressed and exultant
+hoot from the bystanders followed his path.
+
+“Way there!” cried the smith, “for the Lord Martino di Porto, and may
+all the people know that he has threatened to take my life for the
+discharge of my duty in obedience to the Pope’s Vicar!”
+
+“He dare not!” shouted out a thousand voices; “the people can protect
+their own!”
+
+This scene had not been lost on the Provencal, who well knew how to
+construe the wind by the direction of straws, and saw at once, by the
+boldness of the populace, that they themselves were conscious of a
+coming tempest. “Par Dieu,” said he, as he saluted Adrian, who, gravely,
+and without looking behind, had now won the steps of the church, “yon
+tall fellow has a brave heart, and many friends, too. What think you,”
+ he added, in a low whisper, “is not this scene a proof that the nobles
+are less safe than they wot of?”
+
+“The beast begins to kick against the spur, Sir Knight,” answered
+Adrian, “a wise horseman should, in such a case, take care how he
+pull the rein too tight, lest the beast should rear, and he be
+overthrown--yet that is the policy thou wouldst recommend.”
+
+“You mistake,” returned Montreal, “my wish was to give Rome one
+sovereign instead of many tyrants,--but hark! what means that bell?”
+
+“The ceremony is about to begin,” answered Adrian. “Shall we enter the
+church together?”
+
+Seldom had a temple consecrated to God witnessed so singular a spectacle
+as that which now animated the solemn space of the Lateran.
+
+In the centre of the church, seats were raised in an amphitheatre, at
+the far end of which was a scaffolding, a little higher than the rest;
+below this spot, but high enough to be in sight of all the concourse,
+was placed a vast table of iron, on which was graven an ancient
+inscription, and bearing in its centre a clear and prominent device,
+presently to be explained.
+
+The seats were covered with cloth and rich tapestry. In the rear of
+the church was drawn a purple curtain. Around the amphitheatre were the
+officers of the Church, in the party-coloured liveries of the Pope. To
+the right of the scaffold sate Raimond, Bishop of Orvietto, in his robes
+of state. On the benches round him you saw all the marked personages of
+Rome--the judges, the men of letters, the nobles, from the lofty rank
+of the Savelli to the inferior grade of a Raselli. The space beyond the
+amphitheatre was filled with the people, who now poured fast in, stream
+after stream: all the while rang, clear and loud, the great bell of the
+church.
+
+At length, as Adrian and Montreal seated themselves at a little distance
+from Raimond, the bell suddenly ceased--the murmurs of the people were
+stilled--the purple curtain was withdrawn, and Rienzi came forth with
+slow and majestic steps. He came--but not in his usual sombre and plain
+attire. Over his broad breast he wore a vest of dazzling whiteness--a
+long robe, in the ample fashion of the toga, descended to his feet
+and swept the floor. On his head he wore a fold of white cloth, in the
+centre of which shone a golden crown. But the crown was divided, or
+cloven, as it were, by the mystic ornament of a silver sword, which,
+attracting the universal attention, testified at once that this strange
+garb was worn, not from the vanity of display, but for the sake of
+presenting to the concourse--in the person of the citizen--a type and
+emblem of that state of the city on which he was about to descant.
+
+“Faith,” whispered one of the old nobles to his neighbour, “the plebeian
+assumes it bravely.”
+
+“It will be rare sport,” said a second. “I trust the good man will put
+some jests in his discourse.”
+
+“What showman’s tricks are these?” said a third.
+
+“He is certainly crazed!” said a fourth.
+
+“How handsome he is!” said the women, mixed with the populace.
+
+“This is a man who has learned the people by heart,” observed Montreal
+to Adrian. “He knows he must speak to the eye, in order to win the mind:
+a knave,--a wise knave!”
+
+And now Rienzi had ascended the scaffold; and as he looked long and
+steadfastly around the meeting, the high and thoughtful repose of
+his majestic countenance, its deep and solemn gravity, hushed all the
+murmurs, and made its effect equally felt by the sneering nobles as the
+impatient populace.
+
+“Signors of Rome,” said he, at length, “and ye, friends, and citizens,
+you have heard why we are met together this day; and you, my Lord
+Bishop of Orvietto,--and ye, fellow labourers with me in the field of
+letters,--ye, too, are aware that it is upon some matter relative to
+that ancient Rome, the rise and the decline of whose past power and
+glories we have spent our youth in endeavouring to comprehend. But
+this, believe me, is no vain enigma of erudition, useful but to the
+studious,--referring but to the dead. Let the Past perish!--let darkness
+shroud it!--let it sleep for ever over the crumbling temples and
+desolate tombs of its forgotten sons,--if it cannot afford us, from
+its disburied secrets, a guide for the Present and the Future. What, my
+Lords, ye have thought that it was for the sake of antiquity alone that
+we have wasted our nights and days in studying what antiquity can teach
+us! You are mistaken; it is nothing to know what we have been, unless it
+is with the desire of knowing that which we ought to be. Our ancestors
+are mere dust and ashes, save when they speak to our posterity; and then
+their voices resound, not from the earth below, but the heaven above.
+There is an eloquence in Memory, because it is the nurse of Hope.
+There is a sanctity in the Past, but only because of the chronicles it
+retains,--chronicles of the progress of mankind,--stepping-stones in
+civilisation, in liberty, and in knowledge. Our fathers forbid us to
+recede,--they teach us what is our rightful heritage,--they bid us
+reclaim, they bid us augment, that heritage,--preserve their virtues,
+and avoid their errors. These are the true uses of the Past. Like the
+sacred edifice in which we are,--it is a tomb upon which to rear a
+temple. I see that you marvel at this long beginning; ye look to each
+other--ye ask to what it tends. Behold this broad plate of iron; upon it
+is graven an inscription but lately disinterred from the heaps of stone
+and ruin, which--O shame to Rome!--were once the palaces of empire, and
+the arches of triumphant power. The device in the centre of the table,
+which you behold, conveys the act of the Roman Senators,--who are
+conferring upon Vespasian the imperial authority. It is this inscription
+which I have invited you to hear read! It specifies the very terms and
+limits of the authority thus conferred. To the Emperor was
+confided the power of making laws and alliances with whatsoever
+nation,--of increasing, or of diminishing the limits of towns and
+districts,--of--mark this, my Lords!--exalting men to the rank of dukes
+and kings,--ay, and of deposing and degrading them;--of making cities,
+and of unmaking: in short, of all the attributes of imperial power.
+Yes, to that Emperor was confided this vast authority; but, by whom?
+Heed--listen, I pray you--let not a word be lost;--by whom, I say? By
+the Roman Senate! What was the Roman Senate? The Representative of the
+Roman People!”
+
+“I knew he would come to that!” said the smith, who stood at the door
+with his fellows, but to whose ear, clear and distinct, rolled the
+silver voice of Rienzi.
+
+“Brave fellow! and this, too, in the hearing of the Lords!”
+
+“Ay, you see what the people were! and we should never have known this
+but for him.”
+
+“Peace, fellows;” said the officer to those of the crowd, from whom came
+these whispered sentences.
+
+Rienzi continued.--“Yes, it is the people who intrusted this power--to
+the people, therefore, it belongs! Did the haughty Emperor arrogate the
+crown? Could he assume the authority of himself? Was it born with
+him? Did he derive it, my Lord Barons, from the possession of towered
+castles--of lofty lineage? No! all-powerful as he was, he had no right
+to one atom of that power, save from the voice and trust of the Roman
+people. Such, O my countrymen! such was even that day, when Liberty
+was but the shadow of her former self,--such was the acknowledged
+prerogative of your fathers! All power was the gift of the people. What
+have ye to give now? Who, who, I say,--what single person, what petty
+chief, asks you for the authority he assumes? His senate is his
+sword; his chart of license is written, not with ink, but blood. The
+people!--there is no people! Oh! would to God that we might disentomb
+the spirit of the Past as easily as her records!”
+
+“If I were your kinsman,” whispered Montreal to Adrian, “I would give
+this man short breathing-time between his peroration and confession.”
+
+“What is your Emperor?” continued Rienzi; “a stranger! What the great
+head of your Church?--an exile! Ye are without your lawful chiefs; and
+why? Because ye are not without your law-defying tyrants! The licence
+of your nobles, their discords, their dissensions, have driven our Holy
+Father from the heritage of St. Peter;--they have bathed your streets in
+your own blood; they have wasted the wealth of your labours on private
+quarrels and the maintenance of hireling ruffians! Your forces are
+exhausted against yourselves. You have made a mockery of your country,
+once the mistress of the world. You have steeped her lips in gall--ye
+have set a crown of thorns upon her head! What, my Lords!” cried he,
+turning sharply round towards the Savelli and Orsini, who, endeavouring
+to shake off the thrill which the fiery eloquence of Rienzi had stricken
+to their hearts, now, by contemptuous gestures and scornful smiles,
+testified the displeasure they did not dare loudly to utter in the
+presence of the Vicar and the people.--“What! even while I speak--not
+the sanctity of this place restrains you! I am an humble man--a citizen
+of Rome;--but I have this distinction: I have raised against myself
+many foes and scoffers for that which I have done for Rome. I am hated,
+because I love my country; I am despised, because I would exalt her. I
+retaliate--I shall be avenged. Three traitors in your own palaces shall
+betray you: their names are--Luxury, Envy, and Dissension!”
+
+“There he had them on the hip!”
+
+“Ha, ha! by the Holy Cross, that was good!”
+
+“I would go to the hangman for such another keen stroke as that!”
+
+“It is a shame if we are cowards, when one man is thus brave,” said the
+smith.
+
+“This is the man we have always wanted!”
+
+“Silence!” proclaimed the officer.
+
+“O Romans!” resumed Rienzi, passionately--“awake! I conjure you! Let
+this memorial of your former power--your ancient liberties--sink deep
+into your souls. In a propitious hour, if ye seize it,--in an evil one,
+if ye suffer the golden opportunity to escape,--has this record of the
+past been unfolded to your eyes. Recollect that the Jubilee approaches.”
+
+The Bishop of Orvietto smiled, and bowed approvingly; the people, the
+citizens, the inferior nobles, noted well those signs of encouragement;
+and, to their minds, the Pope himself, in the person of his Vicar,
+looked benignly on the daring of Rienzi.
+
+“The Jubilee approaches,--the eyes of all Christendom will be directed
+hither. Here, where, from all quarters of the globe, men come for peace,
+shall they find discord?--seeking absolution, shall they perceive
+but crime? In the centre of God’s dominion, shall they weep at your
+weakness?--in the seat of the martyred saints, shall they shudder at
+your vices?--in the fountain and source of Christ’s law, shall they
+find all law unknown? You were the glory of the world--will you be its
+by-word? You were its example--will you be its warning? Rise, while it
+is yet time!--clear your roads from the bandits that infest them!--your
+walls from the hirelings that they harbour! Banish these civil discords,
+or the men--how proud, how great, soever--who maintain them! Pluck
+the scales from the hand of Fraud!--the sword from the hand of
+Violence!--the balance and the sword are the ancient attributes of
+Justice!--restore them to her again! This be your high task,--these be
+your great ends! Deem any man who opposes them a traitor to his country.
+Gain a victory greater than those of the Caesars--a victory over
+yourselves! Let the pilgrims of the world behold the resurrection of
+Rome! Make one epoch of the Jubilee of Religion and the Restoration of
+Law! Lay the sacrifice of your vanquished passions--the first-fruits of
+your renovated liberties--upon the very altar that these walls contain!
+and never! oh, never! since the world began, shall men have made a more
+grateful offering to their God!”
+
+So intense was the sensation these words created in the audience--so
+breathless and overpowered did they leave the souls with they took by
+storm--that Rienzi had descended the scaffold, and already disappeared
+behind the curtain from which he had emerged, ere the crowd were fully
+aware that he had ceased.
+
+The singularity of this sudden apparition--robed in mysterious
+splendour, and vanishing the moment its errand was fulfilled--gave
+additional effect to the words it had uttered. The whole character of
+that bold address became invested with a something preternatural and
+inspired; to the minds of the vulgar, the mortal was converted into the
+oracle; and, marvelling at the unhesitating courage with which their
+idol had rebuked and conjured the haughty barons,--each of whom they
+regarded in the light of sanctioned executioners, whose anger could be
+made manifest at once by the gibbet or the axe,--the people could not
+but superstitiously imagine that nothing less than authority from above
+could have gifted their leader with such hardihood, and preserved him
+from the danger it incurred. In fact, it was in this very courage of
+Rienzi that his safety consisted; he was placed in those circumstances
+where audacity is prudence. Had he been less bold, the nobles would have
+been more severe; but so great a license of speech in an officer of the
+Holy See, they naturally imagined, was not unauthorised by the assent of
+the Pope, as well as by the approbation of the people. Those who did not
+(like Stephen Colonna) despise words as wind, shrank back from the task
+of punishing one whose voice might be the mere echo of the wishes of the
+pontiff. The dissensions of the nobles among each other, were no less
+favourable to Rienzi. He attacked a body, the members of which had no
+union.
+
+“It is not my duty to slay him!” said one.
+
+“I am not the representative of the barons!” said another.
+
+“If Stephen Colonna heeds him not, it would be absurd, as well as
+dangerous, in a meaner man to make himself the champion of the order!”
+ said a third.
+
+The Colonna smiled approval, when Rienzi denounced an Orsini--an Orsini
+laughed aloud, when the eloquence burst over a Colonna. The lesser
+nobles were well pleased to hear attacks upon both: while, on the other
+hand, the Bishop, by the long impunity of Rienzi, had taken courage
+to sanction the conduct of his fellow-officer. He affected, indeed, at
+times, to blame the excess of his fervour, but it was always accompanied
+by the praises of his honesty; and the approbation of the Pope’s Vicar
+confirmed the impression of the nobles as to the approbation of the
+Pope. Thus, from the very rashness of his enthusiasm had grown his
+security and success.
+
+Still, however, when the barons had a little recovered from the stupor
+into which Rienzi had cast them, they looked round to each other; and
+their looks confessed their sense of the insolence of the orator, and
+the affront offered to themselves.
+
+“Per fede!” quoth Reginaldo di Orsini, “this is past bearing,--the
+plebeian has gone too far!”
+
+“Look at the populace below! how they murmur and gape,--and how their
+eyes sparkle--and what looks they bend at us!” said Luca di Savelli to
+his mortal enemy, Castruccio Malatesta: the sense of a common danger
+united in one moment, but only for a moment, the enmity of years.
+
+“Diavolo!” muttered Raselli (Nina’s father) to a baron, equally poor,
+“but the clerk has truth in his lips. ‘Tis a pity he is not noble.”
+
+“What a clever brain marred!” said a Florentine merchant. “That man
+might be something, if he were sufficiently rich.”
+
+Adrian and Montreal were silent: the first seemed lost in thought,--the
+last was watching the various effects produced upon the audience.
+
+“Silence!” proclaimed the officers. “Silence, for my Lord Vicar.”
+
+At this announcement, every eye turned to Raimond, who, rising with much
+clerical importance, thus addressed the assembly:--
+
+“Although, Barons and Citizens of Rome, my well-beloved flock, and
+children,--I, no more than yourselves, anticipated the exact nature of
+the address ye have just heard,--and, albeit, I cannot feel unalloyed
+contentment at the manner, nor, I may say, at the whole matter of that
+fervent exhortation--yet (laying great emphasis on the last word), I
+cannot suffer you to depart without adding to the prayers of our
+Holy Father’s servant, those, also, of his Holiness’s spiritual
+representative. It is true! the Jubilee approaches! The Jubilee
+approaches--and yet our roads, even to the gates of Rome, are infested
+with murderous and godless ruffians! What pilgrim can venture across the
+Apennines to worship at the altars of St. Peter? The Jubilee
+approaches: what scandal shall it be to Rome if these shrines be without
+pilgrims--if the timid recoil from, if the bold fall victims to, the
+dangers of the way! Wherefore, I pray you all, citizens and chiefs
+alike,--I pray you all to lay aside those unhappy dissensions which have
+so long consumed the strength of our sacred city; and, uniting with each
+other in the ties of amity and brotherhood, to form a blessed league
+against the marauders of the road. I see amongst you, my Lords, many of
+the boasts and pillars of the state; but, alas! I think with grief
+and dismay on the causeless and idle hatred that has grown up between
+you!--a scandal to our city, and reflecting, let me add, my Lords, no
+honour on your faith as Christians, nor on your dignity as defenders of
+the Church.”
+
+Amongst the inferior nobles--along the seats of the judges and the men
+of letters--through the vast concourse of the people--ran a loud murmur
+of approbations at these words. The greater barons looked proudly, but
+not contemptuously, at the countenance of the prelate, and preserved a
+strict and unrevealing silence.
+
+“In this holy spot,” continued the Bishop, “let me beseech you to bury
+those fruitless animosities which have already cost enough of blood and
+treasure; and let us quit these walls with one common determination to
+evince our courage and display our chivalry only against our universal
+foes;--those ruffians who lay waste our fields, and infest our public
+ways,--the foes alike of the people we should protect, and the God whom
+we should serve!”
+
+The Bishop resumed his seat; the nobles looked at each other without
+reply; the people began to whisper loudly among themselves; when, after
+a short pause, Adrian di Castello rose.
+
+“Pardon me, my Lords, and you, reverend Father, if I, inexperienced in
+years and of little mark or dignity amongst you, presume to be the first
+to embrace the proposal we have just heard. Willingly do I renounce all
+ancient cause of enmity with any of my compeers. Fortunately for me,
+my long absence from Rome has swept from my remembrance the feuds and
+rivalries familiar to my early youth; and in this noble conclave I see
+but one man (glancing at Martino di Porto, who sat sullenly looking
+down) against whom I have, at any time, deemed it a duty to draw my
+sword; the gage that I once cast to that noble is yet, I rejoice to
+think, unredeemed. I withdraw it. Henceforth my only foes shall be the
+foes of Rome!”
+
+“Nobly spoken!” said the Bishop, aloud.
+
+“And,” continued Adrian, casting down his glove amongst the nobles, “I
+throw, my Lords, the gage, thus resumed, amongst you all, in challenge
+to a wider rivalry, and a more noble field. I invite any man to vie with
+me in the zeal that he shall show to restore tranquillity to our roads,
+and order to our state. It is a contest in which, if I be vanquished
+with reluctance, I will yield the prize without envy. In ten days from
+this time, reverend Father, I will raise forty horsemen-at-arms, ready
+to obey whatever orders shall be agreed upon for the security of the
+Roman state. And you, O Romans, dismiss, I pray you, from your minds,
+those eloquent invectives against your fellow-citizens which ye have
+lately heard. All of us, of what rank soever, may have shared in the
+excesses of these unhappy times; let us endeavour, not to avenge nor to
+imitate, but to reform and to unite. And may the people hereafter find,
+that the true boast of a patrician is, that his power the better enables
+him to serve his country.”
+
+“Brave words!” quoth the smith, sneeringly.
+
+“If they were all like him!” said the smith’s neighbour.
+
+“He has helped the nobles out of a dilemma,” said Pandulfo.
+
+“He has shown grey wit under young hairs,” said an aged Malatesta.
+
+“You have turned the tide, but not stemmed it, noble Adrian,” whispered
+the ever-boding Montreal, as, amidst the murmurs of the general
+approbation, the young Colonna resumed his seat.
+
+“How mean you?” said Adrian.
+
+“That your soft words, like all patrician conciliations, have come too
+late.”
+
+Not another noble stirred, though they felt, perhaps, disposed to join
+in the general feeling of amnesty, and appeared, by signs and whispers,
+to applaud the speech of Adrian. They were too habituated to the
+ungracefulness of an unlettered pride, to bow themselves to address
+conciliating language either to the people or their foes. And Raimond,
+glancing round, and not willing that their unseemly silence should be
+long remarked, rose at once, to give it the best construction in his
+power.
+
+“My son, thou hast spoken as a patriot and a Christian; by the approving
+silence of your peers we all feel that they share your sentiments. Break
+we up the meeting--its end is obtained. The manner of our proceeding
+against the leagued robbers of the road requires maturer consideration
+elsewhere. This day shall be an epoch in our history.”
+
+“It shall,” quoth Cecco del Vecchio, gruffly, between his teeth.
+
+“Children, my blessing upon you all!” concluded the Vicar, spreading his
+arms.
+
+And in a few minutes more the crowd poured from the church. The
+different servitors and flag-bearers ranged themselves on the steps
+without, each train anxious for their master’s precedence; and the
+nobles, gravely collecting in small knots, in the which was no mixture
+of rival blood, followed the crowd down the aisles. Soon rose again the
+din, and the noise, and the wrangling, and the oaths, of the hostile
+bands, as, with pain and labour, the Vicar’s officers marshalled them in
+“order most disorderly.”
+
+But so true were Montreal’s words to Adrian, that the populace already
+half forgot the young noble’s generous appeal, and were only bitterly
+commenting on the ungracious silence of his brother Lords. What, too, to
+them was this crusade against the robbers of the road? They blamed
+the good Bishop for not saying boldly to the nobles--“Ye are the first
+robbers we must march against!” The popular discontents had gone far
+beyond palliatives; they had arrived at that point when the people
+longed less for reform than change. There are times when a revolution
+cannot be warded off; it must come--come alike by resistance or
+by concession. Wo to that race in which a revolution produces no
+fruits!--in which the thunderbolt smites the high place, but does
+not purify the air! To suffer in vain is often the lot of the
+noblest individuals; but when a People suffer in vain, let them curse
+themselves!
+
+
+
+Chapter 2.IV. The Ambitious Citizen, and the Ambitious Soldier.
+
+The Bishop of Orvietto lingered last, to confer with Rienzi, who awaited
+him in the recesses of the Lateran. Raimond had the penetration not
+to be seduced into believing that the late scene could effect any
+reformation amongst the nobles, heal their divisions, or lead them
+actively against the infestors of the Campagna. But, as he detailed to
+Rienzi all that had occurred subsequent to the departure of that hero of
+the scene, he concluded with saying:--
+
+“You will perceive from this, one good result will be produced: the
+first armed dissension--the first fray among the nobles--will seem like
+a breach of promise; and, to the people and to the Pope, a reasonable
+excuse for despairing of all amendment amongst the Barons,--an excuse
+which will sanction the efforts of the first, and the approval of the
+last.”
+
+“For such a fray we shall not long wait,” answered Rienzi.
+
+“I believe the prophecy,” answered Raimond, smiling; “at present all
+runs well. Go you with us homeward?”
+
+“Nay, I think it better to tarry here till the crowd is entirely
+dispersed; for if they were to see me, in their present excitement, they
+might insist on some rash and hasty enterprise. Besides, my Lord,” added
+Rienzi, “with an ignorant people, however honest and enthusiastic, this
+rule must be rigidly observed--stale not your presence by custom. Never
+may men like me, who have no external rank, appear amongst the crowd,
+save on those occasions when the mind is itself a rank.”
+
+“That is true, as you have no train,” answered Raimond, thinking of his
+own well-liveried menials. “Adieu, then! we shall meet soon.”
+
+“Ay, at Philippi, my Lord. Reverend Father, your blessing!”
+
+It was some time subsequent to this conference that Rienzi quitted the
+sacred edifice. As he stood on the steps of the church--now silent and
+deserted--the hour that precedes the brief twilight of the South lent
+its magic to the view. There he beheld the sweeping arches of the mighty
+Aqueduct extending far along the scene, and backed by the distant and
+purpled hills. Before--to the right--rose the gate which took its
+Roman name from the Coelian Mount, at whose declivity it yet stands.
+Beyond--from the height of the steps--he saw the villages scattered
+through the grey Campagna, whitening in the sloped sun; and in the
+furthest distance the mountain shadows began to darken over the roofs
+of the ancient Tusculum, and the second Alban (The first Alba--the Alba
+Longa--whose origin Fable ascribes to Ascanius, was destroyed by Tullus
+Hostilius. The second Alba, or modern Albano, was erected on the plain
+below the ancient town, a little before the time of Nero.) city, which
+yet rises, in desolate neglect, above the vanished palaces of Pompey and
+Domitian.
+
+The Roman stood absorbed and motionless for some moments, gazing on the
+scene, and inhaling the sweet balm of the mellow air. It was the soft
+springtime--the season of flowers, and green leaves, and whispering
+winds--the pastoral May of Italia’s poets: but hushed was the voice of
+song on the banks of the Tiber--the reeds gave music no more. From the
+sacred Mount in which Saturn held his home, the Dryad and the Nymph, and
+Italy’s native Sylvan, were gone for ever. Rienzi’s original nature--its
+enthusiasm--its veneration for the past--its love of the beautiful and
+the great--that very attachment to the graces and pomp which give so
+florid a character to the harsh realities of life, and which power
+afterwards too luxuriantly developed; the exuberance of thoughts
+and fancies, which poured itself from his lips in so brilliant and
+inexhaustible a flood--all bespoke those intellectual and imaginative
+biasses, which, in calmer times, might have raised him in literature to
+a more indisputable eminence than that to which action can ever lead;
+and something of such consciousness crossed his spirit at that moment.
+
+“Happier had it been for me,” thought he, “had I never looked out from
+my own heart upon the world. I had all within me that makes contentment
+of the present, because I had that which can make me forget the present.
+I had the power to re-people--to create: the legends and dreams of
+old--the divine faculty of verse, in which the beautiful superfluities
+of the heart can pour themselves--these were mine! Petrarch chose
+wisely for himself! To address the world, but from without the world;
+to persuade--to excite--to command,--for these are the aim and glory
+of ambition;--but to shun its tumult, and its toil! His the quiet cell
+which he fills with the shapes of beauty--the solitude, from which he
+can banish the evil times whereon we are fallen, but in which he can
+dream back the great hearts and the glorious epochs of the past.
+For me--to what cares I am wedded! to what labours I am bound! what
+instruments I must use! what disguises I must assume! to tricks and
+artifice I must bow my pride! base are my enemies--uncertain my friends!
+and verily, in this struggle with blinded and mean men, the soul itself
+becomes warped and dwarfish. Patient and darkling, the Means creep
+through caves and the soiling mire, to gain at last the light which is
+the End.”
+
+In these reflections there was a truth, the whole gloom and sadness of
+which the Roman had not yet experienced. However august be the object
+we propose to ourselves, every less worthy path we take to insure it
+distorts the mental sight of our ambition; and the means, by degrees,
+abase the end to their own standard. This is the true misfortune of a
+man nobler than his age--that the instruments he must use soil himself:
+half he reforms his times; but half, too, the times will corrupt the
+reformer. His own craft undermines his safety;--the people, whom he
+himself accustoms to a false excitement, perpetually crave it; and when
+their ruler ceases to seduce their fancy, he falls their victim. The
+reform he makes by these means is hollow and momentary--it is swept away
+with himself: it was but the trick--the show--the wasted genius of a
+conjuror: the curtain falls--the magic is over--the cup and balls are
+kicked aside. Better one slow step in enlightenment,--which being made
+by the reason of a whole people, cannot recede,--than these sudden
+flashes in the depth of the general night, which the darkness, by
+contrast doubly dark, swallows up everlastingly again!
+
+As, slowly and musingly, Rienzi turned to quit the church, he felt a
+light touch upon his shoulder.
+
+“Fair evening to you, Sir Scholar,” said a frank voice.
+
+“To you, I return the courtesy,” answered Rienzi, gazing upon the person
+who thus suddenly accosted him, and in whose white cross and martial
+bearing the reader recognises the Knight of St. John.
+
+“You know me not, I think?” said Montreal; “but that matters little,
+we may easily commence our acquaintance: for me, indeed, I am fortunate
+enough to have made myself already acquainted with you.”
+
+“Possibly we have met elsewhere, at the house of one of those nobles to
+whose rank you seem to belong?”
+
+“Belong! no, not exactly!” returned Montreal, proudly. “Highborn and
+great as your magnates deem themselves, I would not, while the mountains
+can yield one free spot for my footstep, change my place in the world’s
+many grades for theirs. To the brave, there is but one sort of plebeian,
+and that is the coward. But you, sage Rienzi,” continued the Knight, in
+a gayer tone, “I have seen in more stirring scenes than the hall of a
+Roman Baron.”
+
+Rienzi glanced keenly at Montreal, who met his eye with an open brow.
+
+“Yes!” resumed the Knight--“but let us walk on; suffer me for a few
+moments to be your companion. Yes! I have listened to you--the other
+eve, when you addressed the populace, and today, when you rebuked the
+nobles; and at midnight, too, not long since, when (your ear, fair
+Sir!--lower, it is a secret!)--at midnight, too, when you administered
+the oath of brotherhood to the bold conspirators, on the ruined
+Aventine!”
+
+As he concluded, the Knight drew himself aside to watch, upon Rienzi’s
+countenance, the effect which his words might produce.
+
+A slight tremor passed over the frame of the conspirator--for so, unless
+the conspiracy succeed, would Rienzi be termed, by others than Montreal:
+he turned abruptly round to confront the Knight, and placed his hand
+involuntarily on his sword, but presently relinquished the grasp.
+
+“Ha!” said the Roman, slowly, “if this be true, fall Rome! There is
+treason even among the free!”
+
+“No treason, brave Sir!” answered Montreal; “I possess thy secret--but
+none have betrayed it to me.”
+
+“And is it as friend or foe that thou hast learned it?”
+
+“That as it may be,” returned Montreal, carelessly. “Enough, at present,
+that I could send thee to the gibbet, if I said but the word,--to show
+my power to be thy foe; enough, that I have not done it, to prove my
+disposition to be thy friend.”
+
+“Thou mistakest, stranger! that man does not live who could shed my
+blood in the streets of Rome! The gibbet! Little dost thou know of the
+power which surrounds Rienzi.”
+
+These words were said with some scorn and bitterness; but, after a
+moment’s pause, Rienzi resumed, more calmly:--
+
+“By the cross on thy mantle, thou belongest to one of the proudest
+orders of knighthood: thou art a foreigner, and a cavalier. What
+generous sympathies can convert thee into a friend of the Roman people?”
+
+“Cola di Rienzi,” returned Montreal, “the sympathies that unite us are
+those which unite all men who, by their own efforts, rise above the
+herd. True, I was born noble--but powerless and poor: at my beck now
+move, from city to city, the armed instruments of authority: my breath
+is the law of thousands. This empire I have not inherited; I won it by a
+cool brain and a fearless arm. Know me for Walter de Montreal; is it
+not a name that speaks a spirit kindred to thine own? Is not ambition
+a common sentiment between us? I do not marshal soldiers for gain only,
+though men have termed me avaricious--nor butcher peasants for the
+love of blood, though men have called me cruel. Arms and wealth are
+the sinews of power; it is power that I desire;--thou, bold Rienzi,
+strugglest thou not for the same? Is it the rank breath of the
+garlic-chewing mob--is it the whispered envy of schoolmen--is it the
+hollow mouthing of boys who call thee patriot and freeman, words to
+trick the ear--that will content thee? These are but thy instruments to
+power. Have I spoken truly?”
+
+Whatever distaste Rienzi might conceive at this speech he masked
+effectually. “Certes,” said he, “it would be in vain, renowned Captain,
+to deny that I seek but that power of which thou speakest. But what
+union can there be between the ambition of a Roman citizen and the
+leader of paid armies that take their cause only according to their
+hire--today, fight for liberty in Florence--tomorrow, for tyranny in
+Bologna? Pardon my frankness; for in this age that is deemed no disgrace
+which I impute to thy armies. Valour and generalship are held to
+consecrate any cause they distinguish; and he who is the master of
+princes, may be well honoured by them as their equal.”
+
+“We are entering into a less deserted quarter of the town,” said the
+Knight; “is there no secret place--no Aventine--in this direction, where
+we can confer?”
+
+“Hush!” replied Rienzi, cautiously looking round. “I thank thee, noble
+Montreal, for the hint; nor may it be well for us to be seen together.
+Wilt thou deign to follow me to my home, by the Palatine Bridge? (The
+picturesque ruins shown at this day as having once been the habitation
+of the celebrated Cola di Rienzi, were long asserted by the antiquarians
+to have belonged to another Cola or Nicola. I believe, however, that the
+dispute has been lately decided: and, indeed, no one but an antiquary,
+and that a Roman one, could suppose that there were two Colas to
+whom the inscription on the house would apply.) there we can converse
+undisturbed and secure.”
+
+“Be it so,” said Montreal, falling back.
+
+With a quick and hurried step, Rienzi passed through the town, in which,
+wherever he was discovered, the scattered citizens saluted him with
+marked respect; and, turning through a labyrinth of dark alleys, as
+if to shun the more public thoroughfares, arrived at length at a broad
+space near the river. The first stars of night shone down on the
+ancient temple of Fortuna Virilis, which the chances of Time had
+already converted into the Church of St. Mary of Egypt; and facing the
+twice-hallowed edifice stood the house of Rienzi.
+
+“It is a fair omen to have my mansion facing the ancient Temple of
+Fortune,” said Rienzi, smiling, as Montreal followed the Roman into the
+chamber I have already described.
+
+“Yet Valour need never pray to Fortune,” said the Knight; “the first
+commands the last.”
+
+Long was the conference between these two men, the most enterprising of
+their age. Meanwhile, let me make the reader somewhat better acquainted
+with the character and designs of Montreal, than the hurry of events has
+yet permitted him to become.
+
+Walter de Montreal, generally known in the chronicles of Italy by the
+designation of Fra Moreale, had passed into Italy--a bold adventurer,
+worthy to become a successor of those roving Normans (from one of the
+most eminent of whom, by the mother’s side, he claimed descent) who
+had formerly played so strange a part in the chivalric errantry of
+Europe,--realizing the fables of Amadis and Palmerin--(each knight,
+in himself a host), winning territories and oversetting thrones;
+acknowledging no laws save those of knighthood; never confounding
+themselves with the tribe amongst which they settled; incapable of
+becoming citizens, and scarcely contented with aspiring to be kings.
+At that time, Italy was the India of all those well-born and penniless
+adventurers who, like Montreal, had inflamed their imagination by the
+ballads and legends of the Roberts and the Godfreys of old; who had
+trained themselves from youth to manage the barb, and bear, through the
+heats of summer, the weight of arms; and who, passing into am effeminate
+and distracted land, had only to exhibit bravery in order to command
+wealth. It was considered no disgrace for some powerful chieftain to
+collect together a band of these hardy aliens,--to subsist amidst the
+mountains on booty and pillage,--to make war upon tyrant or republic, as
+interest suggested, and to sell, at enormous stipends, the immunities
+of peace. Sometimes they hired themselves to one state to protect it
+against the other; and the next year beheld them in the field against
+their former employers. These bands of Northern stipendiaries assumed,
+therefore, a civil, as well as a military, importance; they were as
+indispensable to the safety of one state as they were destructive to the
+security of all. But five years before the present date, the Florentine
+Republic had hired the services of a celebrated leader of these
+foreign soldiers,--Gualtier, duke of Athens. By acclamation, the people
+themselves had elected that warrior to the state of prince, or tyrant,
+of their state; before the year was completed, they revolted against his
+cruelties, or rather against his exactions,--for, despite all the boasts
+of their historians, they felt an attack on their purses more deeply
+than an assault on their liberties,--they had chased him from their
+city, and once more proclaimed themselves a Republic. The bravest, and
+most favoured of the soldiers of the Duke of Athens had been Walter de
+Montreal; he had shared the rise and the downfall of his chief. Amongst
+popular commotions, the acute and observant mind of the Knight of St.
+John had learned no mean civil experience; he had learned to sound a
+people--to know how far they would endure--to construe the signs of
+revolution--to be a reader of the times. After the downfall of the Duke
+of Athens, as a Free Companion, in other words a Freebooter, Montreal
+had augmented under the fierce Werner his riches and his renown. At
+present without employment worthy his spirit of enterprise and intrigue,
+the disordered and chiefless state of Rome had attracted him thither. In
+the league he had proposed to Colonna--in the suggestions he had made
+to the vanity of that Signor--his own object was to render his services
+indispensable--to constitute himself the head of the soldiery whom his
+proposed designs would render necessary to the ambition of the Colonna,
+could it be excited--and, in the vastness of his hardy genius for
+enterprise, he probably foresaw that the command of such a force would
+be, in reality, the command of Rome;--a counter-revolution might
+easily unseat the Colonna and elect himself to the principality. It
+had sometimes been the custom of Roman, as of other Italian, States, to
+prefer for a chief magistrate, under the title of Podesta, a foreigner
+to a native. And Montreal hoped that he might possibly become to Rome
+what the Duke of Athens had been to Florence--an ambition he knew well
+enough to be above the gentleman of Provence, but not above the leader
+of an army. But, as we have already seen, his sagacity perceived at once
+that he could not move the aged head of the patricians to those hardy
+and perilous measures which were necessary to the attainment of supreme
+power. Contented with his present station, and taught moderation by his
+age and his past reverses, Stephen Colonna was not the man to risk a
+scaffold from the hope to gain a throne. The contempt which the old
+patrician professed for the people, and their idol, also taught the
+deep-thinking Montreal that, if the Colonna possessed not the ambition,
+neither did he possess the policy, requisite for empire. The Knight
+found his caution against Rienzi in vain, and he turned to Rienzi
+himself. Little cared the Knight of St. John which party were
+uppermost--prince or people--so that his own objects were attained; in
+fact, he had studied the humours of a people, not in order to serve, but
+to rule them; and, believing all men actuated by a similar ambition, he
+imagined that, whether a demagogue or a patrician reigned, the people
+were equally to be victims, and that the cry of “Order” on the one hand,
+or of “Liberty” on the other, was but the mere pretext by which the
+energy of one man sought to justify his ambition over the herd. Deeming
+himself one of the most honourable spirits of his age, he believed in
+no honour which he was unable to feel; and, sceptic in virtue, was
+therefore credulous of vice.
+
+But the boldness of his own nature inclined him, perhaps, rather to
+the adventurous Rienzi than to the self-complacent Colonna; and he
+considered that to the safety of the first he and his armed minions
+might be even more necessary than to that of the last. At present
+his main object was to learn from Rienzi the exact strength which he
+possessed, and how far he was prepared for any actual revolt.
+
+The acute Roman took care, on the one hand, how he betrayed to the
+Knight more than he yet knew, or he disgusted him by apparent reserve on
+the other. Crafty as Montreal was, he possessed not that wonderful art
+of mastering others which was so preeminently the gift of the eloquent
+and profound Rienzi, and the difference between the grades of their
+intellect was visible in their present conference.
+
+“I see,” said Rienzi, “that amidst all the events which have lately
+smiled upon my ambition, none is so favourable as that which assures
+me of your countenance and friendship. In truth, I require some
+armed alliance. Would you believe it, our friends, so bold in private
+meetings, yet shrink from a public explosion. They fear not the
+patricians, but the soldiery of the patricians; for it is the remarkable
+feature in the Italian courage, that they have no terror for each other,
+but the casque and sword of a foreign hireling make them quail like
+deer.”
+
+“They will welcome gladly, then, the assurance that such hirelings shall
+be in their service--not against them; and as much as you desire for the
+revolution, so many shall you receive.”
+
+“But the pay and the conditions,” said Rienzi, with his dry, sarcastic
+smile. “How shall we arrange the first, and what shall we hold to be the
+second?”
+
+“That is an affair easily concluded,” replied Montreal. “For me, to
+tell you frankly, the glory and excitement of so great a revulsion would
+alone suffice. I like to feel myself necessary to the completion of high
+events. For my men it is otherwise. Your first act will be to seize the
+revenues of the state. Well, whatever they amount to, the product of
+the first year, great or small, shall be divided amongst us. You the one
+half, I and my men the other half.”
+
+“It is much,” said Rienzi, gravely, and as if in calculation,--“but Rome
+cannot purchase her liberties too dearly. So be it then decided.”
+
+“Amen!--and now, then, what is your force? for these eighty or a hundred
+signors of the Aventine,--worthy men, doubtless,--scarce suffice for a
+revolt!”
+
+Gazing cautiously round the room, the Roman placed his hand on
+Montreal’s arm--
+
+“Between you and me, it requires time to cement it. We shall be unable
+to stir these five weeks. I have too rashly anticipated the period. The
+corn is indeed cut, but I must now, by private adjuration and address,
+bind up the scattered sheaves.”
+
+“Five weeks,” repeated Montreal; “that is far longer than I
+anticipated.”
+
+“What I desire,” continued Rienzi, fixing his searching eyes upon
+Montreal, “is, that, in the meanwhile, we should preserve a profound
+calm,--we should remove every suspicion. I shall bury myself in my
+studies, and convoke no more meetings.”
+
+“Well--”
+
+“And for yourself, noble Knight, might I venture to dictate, I would
+pray you to mix with the nobles--to profess for me and for the people
+the profoundest contempt--and to contribute to rock them yet more in the
+cradle of their false security. Meanwhile, you could quietly withdraw as
+many of the armed mercenaries as you influence from Rome, and leave the
+nobles without their only defenders. Collecting these hardy warriors in
+the recesses of the mountains, a day’s march from hence, we may be able
+to summon them at need, and they shall appear at our gates, and in the
+midst of our rising--hailed as deliverers by the nobles, but in reality
+allies with the people. In the confusion and despair of our enemies at
+discovering their mistake, they will fly from the city.”
+
+“And its revenues and its empire will become the appanage of the hardy
+soldier and the intriguing demagogue!” cried Montreal, with a laugh.
+
+“Sir Knight, the division shall be equal.”
+
+“Agreed!”
+
+“And now, noble Montreal, a flask of our best vintage!” said Rienzi,
+changing his tone.
+
+“You know the Provencals,” answered Montreal, gaily.
+
+The wine was brought, the conversation became free and familiar, and
+Montreal, whose craft was acquired, and whose frankness was natural,
+unwittingly committed his secret projects and ambition more nakedly to
+Rienzi than he had designed to do. They parted apparently the best of
+friends.
+
+“By the way,” said Rienzi, as they drained the last goblet. “Stephen
+Colonna betakes him to Corneto, with a convoy of corn, on the 19th.
+Will it not be as well if you join him? You can take that opportunity to
+whisper discontent to the mercenaries that accompany him on his mission,
+and induce them to our plan.”
+
+“I thought of that before,” returned Montreal; “it shall be done. For
+the present, farewell!”
+
+     “‘His barb, and his sword,
+     And his lady, the peerless,
+     Are all that are prized
+     By Orlando the fearless.
+
+     “‘Success to the Norman,
+     The darling of story;
+     His glory is pleasure--
+     His pleasure is glory.’”
+
+Chanting this rude ditty as he resumed his mantle, the Knight waved his
+hand to Rienzi, and departed.
+
+Rienzi watched the receding form of his guest with an expression of hate
+and fear upon his countenance. “Give that man the power,” he muttered,
+“and he may be a second Totila. (Innocent VI., some years afterwards,
+proclaimed Montreal to be worse than Totila.) Methinks I see, in his
+griping and ferocious nature,--through all the gloss of its gaiety and
+knightly grace,--the very personification of our old Gothic foes. I
+trust I have lulled him! Verily, two suns could no more blaze in one
+hemisphere, than Walter de Montreal and Cola di Rienzi live in the same
+city. The star-seers tell us that we feel a secret and uncontrollable
+antipathy to those whose astral influences destine them to work us evil;
+such antipathy do I feel for yon fair-faced homicide. Cross not my path,
+Montreal!--cross not my path!”
+
+With this soliloquy Rienzi turned within, and, retiring to his
+apartment, was seen no more that night.
+
+
+
+Chapter 2.V. The Procession of the Barons.--The Beginning of the End.
+
+It was the morning of the 19th of May, the air was brisk and clear,
+and the sun, which had just risen, shone cheerily upon the glittering
+casques and spears of a gallant procession of armed horsemen, sweeping
+through the long and principal street of Rome. The neighing of the
+horses, the ringing of the hoofs, the dazzle of the armour, and the
+tossing to and fro of the standards, adorned with the proud insignia of
+the Colonna, presented one of the gay and brilliant spectacles peculiar
+to the middle ages.
+
+At the head of the troop, on a stout palfrey, rode Stephen Colonna.
+At his right was the Knight of Provence, curbing, with an easy hand,
+a slight, but fiery steed of the Arab race: behind him followed two
+squires, the one leading his war-horse, the other bearing his lance and
+helmet. At the left of Stephen Colonna rode Adrian, grave and silent,
+and replying only by monosyllables to the gay bavardage of the Knight
+of Provence. A considerable number of the flower of the Roman nobles
+followed the old Baron; and the train was closed by a serried troop of
+foreign horsemen, completely armed.
+
+There was no crowd in the street,--the citizens looked with seeming
+apathy at the procession from their half-closed shops.
+
+“Have these Romans no passion for shows?” asked Montreal; “if they could
+be more easily amused they would be more easily governed.”
+
+“Oh, Rienzi, and such buffoons, amuse them. We do better,--we terrify!”
+ replied Stephen.
+
+“What sings the troubadour, Lord Adrian?” said Montreal.
+
+     “‘Smiles, false smiles, should form the school
+     For those who rise, and those who rule:
+     The brave they trick, and fair subdue,
+     Kings deceive, the States undo.
+     Smiles, false smiles!
+
+     “‘Frowns, true frowns, ourselves betray,
+     The brave arouse, the fair dismay,
+     Sting the pride, which blood must heal,
+     Mix the bowl, and point the steel.
+     Frowns, true frowns!’
+
+“The lay is of France, Signor; yet methinks it brings its wisdom from
+Italy;--for the serpent smile is your countrymen’s proper distinction,
+and the frown ill becomes them.”
+
+“Sir Knight,” replied Adrian, sharply, and incensed at the taunt, “you
+Foreigners have taught us how to frown:--a virtue sometimes.”
+
+“But not wisdom, unless the hand could maintain what the brow menaced,”
+ returned Montreal, with haughtiness; for he had much of the Franc
+vivacity which often overcame his prudence; and he had conceived a
+secret pique against Adrian since their interview at Stephen’s palace.
+
+“Sir Knight,” answered Adrian, colouring, “our conversation may lead to
+warmer words than I would desire to have with one who has rendered me so
+gallant a service.”
+
+“Nay, then, let us go back to the troubadours,” said Montreal,
+indifferently. “Forgive me if I do not think highly, in general, of
+Italian honour, or Italian valour; your valour I acknowledge, for I have
+witnessed it, and valour and honour go together,--let that suffice!”
+
+As Adrian was about to answer, his eye fell suddenly on the burly form
+of Cecco del Vecchio, who was leaning his bare and brawny arms over his
+anvil, and gazing, with a smile, upon the group. There was something in
+that smile which turned the current of Adrian’s thoughts, and which he
+could not contemplate without an unaccountable misgiving.
+
+“A strong villain, that,” said Montreal, also eyeing the smith. “I
+should like to enlist him. Fellow!” cried he, aloud, “you have an arm
+that were as fit to wield the sword as to fashion it. Desert your anvil,
+and follow the fortunes of Fra Moreale!”
+
+The smith nodded his head. “Signor Cavalier,” said he, gravely, “we poor
+men have no passion for war; we want not to kill others--we desire only
+ourselves to live,--if you will let us!”
+
+“By the Holy Mother, a slavish answer! But you Romans--”
+
+“Are slaves!” interrupted the smith, turning away to the interior of his
+forge.
+
+“The dog is mutinous!” said the old Colonna. And as the band swept on,
+the rude foreigners, encouraged by their leaders, had each some taunt
+or jest, uttered in a barbarous attempt at the southern patois, for the
+lazy giant, as he again appeared in front of his forge, leaning on his
+anvil as before, and betraying no sign of attention to his insultors,
+save by a heightened glow of his swarthy visage;--and so the gallant
+procession passed through the streets, and quitted the Eternal City.
+
+There was a long interval of deep silence--of general calm--throughout
+the whole of Rome: the shops were still but half-opened; no man betook
+himself to his business; it was like the commencement of some holyday,
+when indolence precedes enjoyment.
+
+About noon, a few small knots of men might be seen scattered about the
+streets, whispering to each other, but soon dispersing; and every now
+and then, a single passenger, generally habited in the long robes used
+by the men of letters, or in the more sombre garb of monks, passed
+hurriedly up the street towards the Church of St. Mary of Egypt, once
+the Temple of Fortune. Then, again, all was solitary and deserted.
+Suddenly, there was heard the sound of a single trumpet! It swelled--it
+gathered on the ear. Cecco del Vecchio looked up from his anvil! A
+solitary horseman paced slowly by the forge, and wound a long loud blast
+of the trumpet suspended round his neck, as he passed through the middle
+of the street. Then might you see a crowd, suddenly, and as by magic,
+appear emerging from every corner; the street became thronged with
+multitudes; but it was only by the tramp of their feet, and an
+indistinct and low murmur, that they broke the silence. Again
+the horseman wound his trump, and when the note ceased, he cried
+aloud--“Friends and Romans! tomorrow, at dawn of day, let each man find
+himself unarmed before the Church of St. Angelo. Cola di Rienzi convenes
+the Romans to provide for the good state of Rome.” A shout, that seemed
+to shake the bases of the seven hills, broke forth at the end of
+this brief exhortation; the horseman rode slowly on, and the crowd
+followed.--This was the commencement of the Revolution!
+
+
+
+Chapter 2.VI. The Conspirator Becomes the Magistrate.
+
+At midnight, when the rest of the city seemed hushed in rest, lights
+were streaming from the windows of the Church of St. Angelo. Breaking
+from its echoing aisles, the long and solemn notes of sacred music
+stole at frequent intervals upon the air. Rienzi was praying within the
+church; thirty masses consumed the hours from night till morn, and all
+the sanction of religion was invoked to consecrate the enterprise of
+liberty. (In fact, I apprehend that if ever the life of Cola di Rienzi
+shall be written by a hand worthy of the task, it will be shown that a
+strong religious feeling was blended with the political enthusiasm of
+the people,--the religious feeling of a premature and crude reformation,
+the legacy of Arnold of Brescia. It was not, however, one excited
+against the priests, but favoured by them. The principal conventual
+orders declared for the Revolution.) The sun had long risen, and the
+crowd had long been assembled before the church door, and in vast
+streams along every street that led to it,--when the bell of the
+church tolled out long and merrily; and as it ceased, the voices of the
+choristers within chanted the following hymn, in which were somewhat
+strikingly, though barbarously, blended, the spirit of the classic
+patriotism with the fervour of religious zeal:--
+
+The Roman Hymn of Liberty.
+
+     Let the mountains exult around!
+
+     (“Exultent in circuito Vestro Montes,” &c.--Let the
+     mountains exult around!  So begins Rienzi’s letter to the
+     Senate and Roman people: preserved by Hocsemius.)
+
+     On her seven-hill’d throne renown’d,
+     Once more old Rome is crown’d!
+     Jubilate!
+
+     Sing out, O Vale and Wave!
+     Look up from each laurell’d grave,
+     Bright dust of the deathless brave!
+     Jubilate!
+
+     Pale Vision, what art thou?--Lo,
+     From Time’s dark deeps,
+     Like a Wind, It sweeps,
+     Like a Wind, when the tempests blow:
+
+     A shadowy form--as a giant ghost--
+     It stands in the midst of the armed host!
+     The dead man’s shroud on Its awful limbs;
+     And the gloom of Its presence the daylight dims:
+     And the trembling world looks on aghast--
+     All hail to the SOUL OF THE MIGHTY PAST!
+     Hail! all hail!
+
+     As we speak--as we hallow--It moves, It breathes;
+     From its clouded crest bud the laurel wreaths--
+     As a Sun that leaps up from the arms of Night,
+     The shadow takes shape, and the gloom takes light.
+     Hail! all hail!
+
+     The Soul of the Past, again
+     To its ancient home,
+     In the hearts of Rome,
+     Hath come to resume its reign!
+
+     O Fame, with a prophet’s voice,
+     Bid the ends of the Earth rejoice!
+     Wherever the Proud are Strong,
+     And Right is oppress’d by Wrong;--
+     Wherever the day dim shines
+     Through the cell where the captive pines;--
+     Go forth, with a trumpet’s sound!
+     And tell to the Nations round--
+     On the Hills which the Heroes trod--
+     In the shrines of the Saints of God--
+     In the Caesars’ hall, and the Martyrs’ prison--
+     That the slumber is broke, and the Sleeper arisen!
+     That the reign of the Goth and the Vandal is o’er:
+     And Earth feels the tread of THE ROMAN once more!
+
+As the hymn ended, the gate of the church opened; the crowd gave way on
+either side, and, preceded by three of the young nobles of the inferior
+order, bearing standards of allegorical design, depicting the triumph
+of Liberty, Justice, and Concord, forth issued Rienzi, clad in complete
+armour, the helmet alone excepted. His face was pale with watching and
+intense excitement--but stern, grave, and solemnly composed; and its
+expression so repelled any vociferous and vulgar burst of feeling, that
+those who beheld it hushed the shout on their lips, and stilled, by a
+simultaneous cry of reproof, the gratulations of the crowd behind.
+Side by side with Rienzi moved Raimond, Bishop of Orvietto: and behind,
+marching two by two, followed a hundred men-at-arms. In complete silence
+the procession began its way, until, as it approached the Capitol, the
+awe of the crowd gradually vanished, and thousands upon thousands of
+voices rent the air with shouts of exultation and joy.
+
+Arrived at the foot of the great staircase, which then made the
+principal ascent to the square of the Capitol, the procession halted;
+and as the crowd filled up that vast space in front--adorned and
+hallowed by many of the most majestic columns of the temples of
+old--Rienzi addressed the Populace, whom he had suddenly elevated into a
+People.
+
+He depicted forcibly the servitude and misery of the citizens--the
+utter absence of all law--the want even of common security to life
+and property. He declared that, undaunted by the peril he incurred, he
+devoted his life to the regeneration of their common country; and he
+solemnly appealed to the people to assist the enterprise, and at once
+to sanction and consolidate the Revolution by an established code of law
+and a Constitutional Assembly. He then ordered the chart and outline of
+the Constitution he proposed, to be read by the Herald to the multitude.
+
+It created,--or rather revived, with new privileges and powers,--a
+Representative Assembly of Councillors. It proclaimed, as its first law,
+one that seems simple enough to our happier times, but never hitherto
+executed at Rome: Every wilful homicide, of whatever rank, was to be
+punished by death. It enacted, that no private noble or citizen should
+be suffered to maintain fortifications and garrisons in the city or the
+country; that the gates and bridges of the State should be under the
+control of whomsoever should be elected Chief Magistrate. It forbade all
+harbour of brigands, mercenaries, and robbers, on payment of a thousand
+marks of silver; and it made the Barons who possessed the neighbouring
+territories responsible for the safety of the roads, and the transport
+of merchandise. It took under the protection of the State the widow and
+the orphan. It appointed, in each of the quarters of the city, an armed
+militia, whom the tolling of the bell of the Capitol, at any hour, was
+to assemble to the protection of the State. It ordained, that in each
+harbour of the coast, a vessel should be stationed, for the safeguard
+of commerce. It decreed the sum of one hundred florins to the heirs of
+every man who died in the defence of Rome; and it devoted the public
+revenues to the service and protection of the State.
+
+Such, moderate at once and effectual, was the outline of the New
+Constitution; and it may amuse the reader to consider how great must
+have been the previous disorders of the city, when the common and
+elementary provisions of civilisation and security made the character of
+the code proposed, and the limit of a popular revolution.
+
+The most rapturous shouts followed this sketch of the New Constitution:
+and, amidst the clamour, up rose the huge form of Cecco del Vecchio.
+Despite his condition, he was a man of great importance at the present
+crisis: his zeal and his courage, and, perhaps, still more, his brute
+passion and stubborn prejudice, had made him popular. The lower order of
+mechanics looked to him as their head and representative; out, then, he
+spake loud and fearlessly,--speaking well, because his mind was full of
+what he had to say.
+
+“Countrymen and Citizens!--This New Constitution meets with your
+approbation--so it ought. But what are good laws, if we do not have
+good men to execute them? Who can execute a law so well as the man
+who designs it? If you ask me to give you a notion how to make a good
+shield, and my notion pleases you, would you ask me, or another smith,
+to make it for you? If you ask another, he may make a good shield,
+but it would not be the same as that which I should have made, and the
+description of which contented you. Cola di Rienzi has proposed a Code
+of Law that shall be our shield. Who should see that the shield become
+what he proposes, but Cola di Rienzi? Romans! I suggest that Cola di
+Rienzi be intrusted by the people with the authority, by whatsoever name
+he pleases, of carrying the New Constitution into effect;--and whatever
+be the means, we, the People, will bear him harmless.”
+
+“Long life to Rienzi!--long live Cecco del Vecchio! He hath spoken
+well!--none but the Law-maker shall be the Governor!”
+
+Such were the acclamations which greeted the ambitious heart of the
+Scholar. The voice of the people invested him with the supreme power. He
+had created a Commonwealth--to become, if he desired it, a Despot!
+
+
+
+Chapter 2.VII. Looking after the Halter when the Mare is Stolen.
+
+While such were the events at Rome, a servitor of Stephen Colonna was
+already on his way to Corneto. The astonishment with which the old Baron
+received the intelligence may be easily imagined. He lost not a moment
+in convening his troop; and, while in all the bustle of departure, the
+Knight of St. John abruptly entered his presence. His mien had lost its
+usual frank composure.
+
+“How is this?” said he, hastily; “a revolt?--Rienzi sovereign of
+Rome?--can the news be believed?”
+
+“It is too true!” said Colonna, with a bitter smile. “Where shall we
+hang him on our return?”
+
+“Talk not so wildly, Sir Baron,” replied Montreal, discourteously;
+“Rienzi is stronger than you think for. I know what men are, and you
+only know what noblemen are! Where is your kinsman, Adrian?”
+
+“He is here, noble Montreal,” said Stephen, shrugging his shoulders,
+with a half-disdainful smile at the rebuke, which he thought it more
+prudent not to resent; “he is here!--see him enter!”
+
+“You have heard the news?” exclaimed Montreal.
+
+“I have.”
+
+“And despise the revolution?”
+
+“I fear it!”
+
+“Then you have some sense in you. But this is none of my affair: I
+will not interrupt your consultations. Adieu for the present!” and, ere
+Stephen could prevent him, the Knight had quitted the chamber.
+
+“What means this demagogue?” Montreal muttered to himself. “Would he
+trick me?--has he got rid of my presence in order to monopolise all the
+profit of the enterprise? I fear me so!--the cunning Roman! We northern
+warriors could never compete with the intellect of these Italians but
+for their cowardice. But what shall be done? I have already bid Rodolf
+communicate with the brigands, and they are on the eve of departure from
+their present lord. Well! let it be so! Better that I should first break
+the power of the Barons, and then make my own terms, sword in hand, with
+the plebeian. And if I fail in this,--sweet Adeline! I shall see thee
+again!--that is some comfort!--and Louis of Hungary will bid high for
+the arm and brain of Walter de Montreal. What, ho! Rodolf!” he
+exclaimed aloud, as the sturdy form of the trooper, half-armed and
+half-intoxicated, reeled along the courtyard. “Knave! art thou drunk at
+this hour?”
+
+“Drunk or sober,” answered Rodolf, bending low, “I am at thy bidding.”
+
+“Well said!--are thy friends ripe for the saddle?”
+
+“Eighty of them already tired of idleness and the dull air of Rome, will
+fly wherever Sir Walter de Montreal wishes.”
+
+“Hasten, then,--bid them mount; we go not hence with the Colonna--we
+leave while they are yet talking! Bid my squires attend me!”
+
+And when Stephen Colonna was settling himself on his palfrey, he heard,
+for the first time, that the Knight of Provence, Rodolf the trooper, and
+eighty of the stipendiaries, had already departed,--whither, none knew.
+
+“To precede us to Rome! gallant barbarian!” said Colonna. “Sirs, on!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 2.VIII. The Attack--the Retreat--the Election--and the Adhesion.
+
+Arriving at Rome, the company of the Colonna found the gates barred, and
+the walls manned. Stephen bade advance his trumpeters, with one of his
+captains, imperiously to demand admittance.
+
+“We have orders,” replied the chief of the town-guard, “to admit none
+who bear arms, flags, or trumpets. Let the Lords Colonna dismiss their
+train, and they are welcome.”
+
+“Whose are these insolent mandates?” asked the captain.
+
+“Those of the Lord Bishop of Orvietto and Cola di Rienzi, joint
+protectors of the Buono Stato.” (Good Estate.)
+
+The captain of the Colonna returned to his chief with these tidings. The
+rage of Stephen was indescribable. “Go back,” he cried, as soon as
+he could summon voice, “and say, that, if the gates are not forthwith
+opened to me and mine, the blood of the plebeians be on their own head.
+As for Raimond, Vicars of the Pope have high spiritual authority, none
+temporal. Let him prescribe a fast, and he shall be obeyed; but, for
+the rash Rienzi, say that Stephen Colonna will seek him in the Capitol
+tomorrow, for the purpose of throwing him out of the highest window.”
+
+These messages the envoy failed not to deliver.
+
+The captain of the Romans was equally stern in his reply.
+
+“Declare to your Lord,” said he, “that Rome holds him and his as rebels
+and traitors; and that the moment you regain your troop, our archers
+receive our command to draw their bows--in the name of the Pope, the
+City, and the Liberator.”
+
+This threat was executed to the letter; and ere the old Baron had time
+to draw up his men in the best array, the gates were thrown open, and
+a well-armed, if undisciplined, multitude poured forth, with fierce
+shouts, clashing their arms, and advancing the azure banners of the
+Roman State. So desperate their charge, and so great their numbers, that
+the Barons, after a short and tumultuous conflict, were driven back,
+and chased by their pursuers for more than a mile from the walls of the
+city.
+
+As soon as the Barons recovered their disorder and dismay, a hasty
+council was held, at which various and contradictory opinions were
+loudly urged. Some were for departing on the instant to Palestrina,
+which belonged to the Colonna, and possessed an almost inaccessible
+fortress. Others were for dispersing, and entering peaceably, and in
+detached parties, through the other gates. Stephen Colonna--himself
+incensed and disturbed from his usual self-command--was unable to
+preserve his authority; Luca di Savelli, (The more correct orthography
+were Luca di Savello, but the one in the text is preserved as more
+familiar to the English reader.) a timid, though treacherous and subtle
+man, already turned his horse’s head, and summoned his men to follow him
+to his castle in Romagna, when the old Colonna bethought himself of a
+method by which to keep his band from a disunion that he had the sense
+to perceive would prove fatal to the common cause. He proposed that they
+should at once repair to Palestrina, and there fortify themselves; while
+one of the chiefs should be selected to enter Rome alone, and
+apparently submissive, to examine the strength of Rienzi; and with the
+discretionary power to resist if possible,--or to make the best terms he
+could for the admission of the rest.
+
+“And who,” asked Savelli, sneeringly, “will undertake this dangerous
+mission? Who, unarmed and alone, will expose himself to the rage of the
+fiercest populace of Italy, and the caprice of a demagogue in the first
+flush of his power?”
+
+The Barons and the Captains looked at each other in silence. Savelli
+laughed.
+
+Hitherto Adrian had taken no part in the conference, and but little in
+the previous contest. He now came to the support of his kinsman.
+
+“Signors!” said he, “I will undertake this mission,--but on mine own
+account, independently of yours;--free to act as I may think best, for
+the dignity of a Roman noble, and the interests of a Roman citizen; free
+to raise my standard on mine own tower, or to yield fealty to the new
+estate.”
+
+“Well said!” cried the old Colonna, hastily. “Heaven forbid we should
+enter Rome as foes, if to enter it as friends be yet allowed us! What
+say ye, gentles?”
+
+“A more worthy choice could not be selected,” said Savelli; “but I
+should scarce deem it possible that a Colonna could think there was an
+option between resistance and fealty to this upstart revolution.”
+
+“Of that, Signor, I will judge for myself; if you demand an agent for
+yourselves, choose another. I announce to ye frankly, that I have seen
+enough of other states to think the recent condition of Rome demanded
+some redress. Whether Rienzi and Raimond be worthy of the task they have
+assumed, I know not.”
+
+Savelli was silent. The old Colonna seized the word.
+
+“To Palestrina, then!--are ye all agreed on this? At the worst, or at
+the best, we should not be divided! On this condition alone I hazard the
+safety of my kinsman!”
+
+The Barons murmured a little among themselves;--the expediency of
+Stephen’s proposition was evident, and they at length assented to it.
+
+Adrian saw them depart, and then, attended only by his squire, slowly
+rode towards a more distant entrance into the city. On arriving at the
+gates, his name was demanded--he gave it freely.
+
+“Enter, my Lord,” said the warder, “our orders were to admit all that
+came unarmed and unattended. But to the Lord Adrian di Castello, alone,
+we had a special injunction to give the honours due to a citizen and a
+friend.”
+
+Adrian, a little touched by this implied recollection of friendship, now
+rode through a long line of armed citizens, who saluted him respectfully
+as he passed, and, as he returned the salutation with courtesy, a loud
+and approving shout followed his horse’s steps.
+
+So, save by one attendant, alone, and in peace, the young patrician
+proceeded leisurely through the long streets, empty and deserted,--for
+nearly one half of the inhabitants were assembled at the walls, and
+nearly the other half were engaged in a more peaceful duty,--until,
+penetrating the interior, the wide and elevated space of the Capitol
+broke upon his sight. The sun was slowly setting over an immense
+multitude that overspread the spot, and high above a scaffold raised
+in the centre, shone, to the western ray, the great Gonfalon of Rome,
+studded with silver stars.
+
+Adrian reined in his steed. “This,” thought he, “is scarcely the hour
+thus publicly to confer with Rienzi; yet fain would I, mingled with the
+crowd, judge how far his power is supported, and in what manner it is
+borne.” Musing a little, he withdrew into one of the obscurer streets,
+then wholly deserted, surrendered his horse to his squire, and,
+borrowing of the latter his morion and long mantle, passed to one of
+the more private entrances of the Capitol, and, enveloped in his cloak,
+stood--one of the crowd--intent upon all that followed.
+
+“And what,” he asked of a plainly dressed citizen, “is the cause of this
+assembly?”
+
+“Heard you not the proclamation?” returned the other in some surprise.
+“Do you not know that the Council of the City and the Guilds of the
+Artisans have passed a vote to proffer to Rienzi the title of king of
+Rome?”
+
+The Knight of the Emperor, to whom belonged that august dignity, drew
+back in dismay.
+
+“And,” resumed the citizen, “this assembly of all the lesser Barons,
+Councillors, and Artificers, is convened to hear the answer.”
+
+“Of course it will be assent?”
+
+“I know not--there are strange rumours; hitherto the Liberator has
+concealed his sentiments.”
+
+At that instant a loud flourish of martial music announced the approach
+of Rienzi. The crowd tumultuously divided, and presently, from the
+Palace of the Capitol to the scaffold, passed Rienzi, still in complete
+armour, save the helmet, and with him, in all the pomp of his episcopal
+robes, Raimond of Orvietto.
+
+As soon as Rienzi had ascended the platform, and was thus made visible
+to the whole concourse, no words can suffice to paint the enthusiasm
+of the scene--the shouts, the gestures, the tears, the sobs, the wild
+laughter, in which the sympathy of those lively and susceptible children
+of the South broke forth. The windows and balconies of the Palace were
+thronged with the wives and daughters of the lesser Barons and more
+opulent citizens; and Adrian, with a slight start, beheld amongst
+them,--pale--agitated--tearful,--the lovely face of his Irene--a face
+that even thus would have outshone all present, but for one by her side,
+whose beauty the emotion of the hour only served to embellish. The dark,
+large, and flashing eyes of Nina di Raselli, just bedewed, were fixed
+proudly on the hero of her choice: and pride, even more than joy, gave a
+richer carnation to her cheek, and the presence of a queen to her noble
+and rounded form. The setting sun poured its full glory over the spot;
+the bared heads--the animated faces of the crowd--the grey and vast mass
+of the Capitol; and, not far from the side of Rienzi, it brought into
+a strange and startling light the sculptured form of a colossal Lion of
+Basalt, (The existent Capitol is very different from the building at
+the time of Rienzi; and the reader must not suppose that the present
+staircase, designed by Michael Angelo, at the base of which are two
+marble lions, removed by Pius IV. from the Church of St. Stephen del
+Cacco, was the staircase of the Lion of Basalt, which bears so stern a
+connexion with the history of Rienzi. That mute witness of dark deeds is
+no more.) which gave its name to a staircase leading to the Capitol.
+It was an old Egyptian relic,--vast, worn, and grim; some symbol of a
+vanished creed, to whose face the sculptor had imparted something of the
+aspect of the human countenance. And this producing the effect
+probably sought, gave at all times a mystic, preternatural, and fearful
+expression to the stern features, and to that solemn and hushed repose,
+which is so peculiarly the secret of Egyptian sculpture. The awe which
+this colossal and frowning image was calculated to convey, was felt yet
+more deeply by the vulgar, because “the Staircase of the Lion” was the
+wonted place of the state executions, as of the state ceremonies.
+And seldom did the stoutest citizen forget to cross himself, or feel
+unchilled with a certain terror, whenever, passing by the place, he
+caught, suddenly fixed upon him, the stony gaze and ominous grin of that
+old monster from the cities of the Nile.
+
+It was some minutes before the feelings of the assembly allowed
+Rienzi to be heard. But when, at length, the last shout closed with a
+simultaneous cry of “Long live Rienzi! Deliverer and King of Rome!” he
+raised his hand impatiently, and the curiosity of the crowd procured a
+sudden silence.
+
+“Deliverer of Rome, my countrymen!” said he. “Yes! change not that
+title--I am too ambitious to be a King! Preserve your obedience to your
+Pontiff--your allegiance to your Emperor--but be faithful to your
+own liberties. Ye have a right to your ancient constitution; but that
+constitution needed not a king. Emulous of the name of Brutus, I am
+above the titles of a Tarquin! Romans, awake! awake! be inspired with
+a nobler love of liberty than that which, if it dethrones the tyrant of
+today, would madly risk the danger of tyranny for tomorrow! Rome wants
+still a liberator--never an usurper!--Take away yon bauble!”
+
+There was a pause; the crowd were deeply affected--but they uttered no
+shouts; they looked anxiously for a reply from their councillors, or
+popular leaders.
+
+“Signor,” said Pandulfo di Guido, who was one of the Caporioni, “your
+answer is worthy of your fame. But, in order to enforce the law, Rome
+must endow you with a legal title--if not that of King, deign to accept
+that of Dictator or of Consul.”
+
+“Long live the Consul Rienzi!” cried several voices.
+
+Rienzi waved his hand for silence.
+
+“Pandulfo di Guido! and you, honoured Councillors of Rome! such title is
+at once too august for my merits, and too inapplicable to my functions.
+I am one of the people--the people are my charge; the nobles can protect
+themselves. Dictator and Consul are the appellations of patricians.
+No,” he continued after a short pause, “if ye deem it necessary, for
+the preservation of order, that your fellow-citizen should be intrusted
+with a formal title and a recognised power, be it so: but let it be
+such as may attest the nature of our new institutions, the wisdom of the
+people, and the moderation of their leaders. Once, my countrymen, the
+people elected, for the protectors of their rights and the guardians of
+their freedom, certain officers responsible to the people,--chosen from
+the people,--provident for the people. Their power was great, but it was
+delegated: a dignity, but a trust. The name of these officers with that
+of Tribune. Such is the title that conceded, not by clamour alone,
+but in the full Parliament of the people, and accompanied by, such
+Parliament, ruling with such Parliament,--such is the title I will
+gratefully accept.”
+
+     (Gibbon and Sismondi alike, (neither of whom appears to have
+     consulted with much attention the original documents
+     preserved by Hocsemius,) say nothing of the Representative
+     Parliament, which it was almost Rienzi’s first public act to
+     institute or model. Six days from the memorable 19th of May,
+     he addressed the people of Viterbo in a letter yet extant.
+     He summons them to elect and send two syndics, or
+     ambassadors, to the general Parliament.)
+
+The speech, the sentiments of Rienzi were rendered far more impressive
+by a manner of earnest and deep sincerity; and some of the Romans,
+despite their corruption, felt a momentary exultation in the forbearance
+of their chief. “Long live the Tribune of Rome!” was shouted, but less
+loud than the cry of “Live the King!” And the vulgar almost thought the
+revolution was incomplete, because the loftier title was not assumed.
+To a degenerate and embruted people, liberty seems too plain a thing, if
+unadorned by the pomp of the very despotism they would dethrone. Revenge
+is their desire, rather than Release; and the greater the new power they
+create, the greater seems their revenge against the old. Still all that
+was most respected, intelligent, and powerful amongst the assembly,
+were delighted at a temperance which they foresaw would free Rome from
+a thousand dangers, whether from the Emperor or the Pontiff. And their
+delight was yet increased, when Rienzi added, so soon as returning
+silence permitted--“And since we have been equal labourers in the same
+cause, whatever honours be awarded to me, should be extended also to the
+Vicar of the Pope, Raimond, Lord Bishop of Orvietto. Remember, that both
+Church and State are properly the rulers of the people, only because
+their benefactors.--Long live the first Vicar of a Pope that was ever
+also the Liberator of a State!”
+
+Whether or not Rienzi was only actuated by patriotism in his moderation,
+certain it is, that his sagacity was at least equal to his virtue; and
+perhaps nothing could have cemented the revolution more strongly, than
+thus obtaining for a colleague the Vicar, and Representative of the
+Pontifical power: it borrowed, for the time, the sanction of the Pope
+himself--thus made to share the responsibility of the revolution,
+without monopolising the power of the State.
+
+While the crowd hailed the proposition of Rienzi; while their shouts
+yet filled the air; while Raimond, somewhat taken by surprise, sought by
+signs and gestures to convey at once his gratitude and his humility,
+the Tribune-Elect, casting his eyes around, perceived many hitherto
+attracted by curiosity, and whom, from their rank and weight, it
+was desirable to secure in the first heat of the public enthusiasm.
+Accordingly, as soon as Raimond had uttered a short and pompous
+harangue,--in which his eager acceptance of the honour proposed him was
+ludicrously contrasted by his embarrassed desire not to involve himself
+or the Pope in any untoward consequences that might ensue,--Rienzi
+motioned to two heralds that stood behind upon the platform, and one of
+these advancing, proclaimed--“That as it was desirable that all hitherto
+neuter should now profess themselves friends or foes, so they were
+invited to take at once the oath of obedience to the laws, and
+subscription to the Buono Stato.”
+
+So great was the popular fervour, and so much had it been refined and
+deepened in its tone by the addresses of Rienzi, that even the most
+indifferent had caught the contagion: and no man liked to be seen
+shrinking from the rest: so that the most neutral, knowing themselves
+the most marked, were the most entrapped into allegiance to the Buono
+Stato. The first who advanced to the platform and took the oath was the
+Signor di Raselli, the father of Nina.--Others of the lesser nobility
+followed his example.
+
+The presence of the Pope’s Vicar induced the aristocratic; the fear
+of the people urged the selfish; the encouragement of shouts and
+gratulations excited the vain. The space between Adrian and Rienzi was
+made clear. The young noble suddenly felt the eyes of the Tribune were
+upon him; he felt that those eyes recognised and called upon him--he
+coloured--he breathed short. The noble forbearance of Rienzi had touched
+him to the heart;--the applause--the pageant--the enthusiasm of the
+scene, intoxicated--confused him.--He lifted his eyes and saw before
+him the sister of the Tribune--the lady of his love! His indecision--his
+pause--continued, when Raimond, observing him, and obedient to a
+whisper from Rienzi, artfully cried aloud--“Room for the Lord Adrian di
+Castello! a Colonna! a Colonna!” Retreat was cut off. Mechanically, and
+as if in a dream, Adrian ascended to the platform: and to complete the
+triumph of the Tribune, the sun’s last ray beheld the flower of the
+Colonna--the best and bravest of the Barons of Rome--confessing his
+authority, and subscribing to his laws!
+
+
+
+
+BOOK III. THE FREEDOM WITHOUT LAW.
+
+     “Ben furo avventurosi i cavalieri
+     Ch’ erano a quella eta, che nei vallone,
+     Nelle scure spelonche e boschi fieri,
+     Tane di serpi, d’orsi e di leoni,
+     Trovavan quel che nei palazzi altieri
+     Appena or trovar pon giudici buoni;
+     Donne che nella lor piu fresca etade
+     Sien degne di aver titol di beltade.”
+
+     Ariosto, Orlando Furioso, can. xiii. 1.
+
+
+
+Chapter 3.I. The Return of Walter de Montreal to his Fortress.
+
+When Walter de Montreal and his mercenaries quitted Corneto, they made
+the best of their way to Rome; arriving there, long before the Barons,
+they met with a similar reception at the gates, but Montreal prudently
+forbore all attack and menace, and contented himself with sending his
+trusty Rodolf into the city to seek Rienzi, and to crave permission
+to enter with his troop. Rodolf returned in a shorter time than was
+anticipated. “Well,” said Montreal impatiently, “you have the order I
+suppose. Shall we bid them open the gates?”
+
+“Bid them open our graves,” replied the Saxon, bluntly. “I trust my next
+heraldry will be to a more friendly court.”
+
+“How! what mean you?”
+
+“Briefly this:--I found the new governor, or whatever his title, in the
+palace of the Capitol, surrounded by guards and councillors, and in a
+suit of the finest armour I ever saw out of Milan.”
+
+“Pest on his armour! give us his answer.”
+
+“‘Tell Walter de Montreal,’ said he, then, if you will have it, ‘that
+Rome is no longer a den of thieves; tell him, that if he enters, he must
+abide a trial--’”
+
+“A trial!” cried Montreal, grinding his teeth.
+
+“‘For participation in the evil doings of Werner and his freebooters.’”
+
+“Ha!”
+
+“‘Tell him, moreover, that Rome declares war against all robbers,
+whether in tent or tower, and that we order him in forty-eight hours to
+quit the territories of the Church.’”
+
+“He thinks, then, not only to deceive, but to menace me? Well, proceed.”
+
+“That was all his reply to you; to me, however, he vouchsafed a caution
+still more obliging. ‘Hark ye, friend,’ said he, for every German bandit
+found in Rome after tomorrow, our welcome will be cord and gibbet!
+Begone.’”
+
+“Enough! enough!” cried Montreal, colouring with rage and shame.
+“Rodolf, you have a skilful eye in these matters, how many Northmen
+would it take to give that same gibbet to the upstart?”
+
+Rodolf scratched his huge head, and seemed awhile lost in calculation;
+at length he said, “You, Captain, must be the best judge, when I tell
+you, that twenty thousand Romans are the least of his force, so I heard
+by the way; and this evening he is to accept the crown, and depose the
+Emperor.”
+
+“Ha, ha!” laughed Montreal, “is he so mad? then he will want not our aid
+to hang himself. My friends, let us wait the result. At present neither
+barons nor people seem likely to fill our coffers. Let us across the
+country to Terracina. Thank the saints,” and Montreal (who was not
+without a strange kind of devotion,--indeed he deemed that virtue
+essential to chivalry) crossed himself piously, “the free companions are
+never long without quarters!”
+
+“Hurrah for the Knight of St. John!” cried the mercenaries. “And hurrah
+for fair Provence and bold Germany!” added the Knight, as he waved his
+hand on high, struck spurs into his already wearied horse, and, breaking
+out into his favourite song,
+
+     “His steed and his sword,
+     And his lady the peerless,” &c.,
+
+Montreal, with his troop, struck gallantly across the Campagna.
+
+The Knight of St. John soon, however, fell into an absorbed and moody
+reverie; and his followers imitating the silence of their chief, in a
+few minutes the clatter of their arms and the jingle of their spurs,
+alone disturbed the stillness of the wide and gloomy plains across
+which they made towards Terracina. Montreal was recalling with bitter
+resentment his conference with Rienzi; and, proud of his own sagacity
+and talent for scheming, he was humbled and vexed at the discovery that
+he had been duped by a wilier intriguer. His ambitious designs on Rome,
+too, were crossed, and even crushed for the moment, by the very means
+to which he had looked for their execution. He had seen enough of the
+Barons to feel assured that while Stephen Colonna lived, the head of the
+order, he was not likely to obtain that mastery in the state which, if
+leagued with a more ambitious or a less timid and less potent signor,
+might reward his aid in expelling Rienzi. Under all circumstances, he
+deemed it advisable to remain aloof. Should Rienzi grow strong, Montreal
+might make the advantageous terms he desired with the Barons; should
+Rienzi’s power decay, his pride, necessarily humbled, might drive him
+to seek the assistance, and submit to the proposals, of Montreal.
+The ambition of the Provencal, though vast and daring, was not of a
+consistent and persevering nature. Action and enterprise were dearer to
+him, as yet, than the rewards which they proffered; and if baffled
+in one quarter, he turned himself, with the true spirit of the
+knight-errant, to any other field for his achievements. Louis, king of
+Hungary, stern, warlike, implacable, seeking vengeance for the murder of
+his brother, the ill-fated husband of Joanna, (the beautiful and guilty
+Queen of Naples--the Mary Stuart of Italy,) had already prepared himself
+to subject the garden of Campania to the Hungarian yoke. Already his
+bastard brother had entered Italy--already some of the Neapolitan states
+had declared in his favour--already promises had been held out by the
+northern monarch to the scattered Companies--and already those fierce
+mercenaries gathered menacingly round the frontiers of that Eden of
+Italy, attracted, as vultures to the carcass, by the preparation of war
+and the hope of plunder. Such was the field to which the bold mind
+of Montreal now turned its thoughts; and his soldiers had joyfully
+conjectured his design when they had heard him fix Terracina as their
+bourne. Provident of every resource, and refining his audacious and
+unprincipled valour by a sagacity which promised, when years had more
+matured and sobered his restless chivalry, to rank him among the most
+dangerous enemies Italy had ever known, on the first sign of Louis’s
+warlike intentions, Montreal had seized and fortified a strong castle on
+that delicious coast beyond Terracina, by which lies the celebrated pass
+once held by Fabius against Hannibal, and which Nature has so favoured
+for war as for peace, that a handful of armed men might stop the march
+of an army. The possession of such a fortress on the very frontiers of
+Naples, gave Montreal an importance of which he trusted to avail
+himself with the Hungarian king: and now, thwarted in his more grand and
+aspiring projects upon Rome, his sanguine, active, and elastic spirit
+congratulated itself upon the resource it had secured.
+
+The band halted at nightfall on this side the Pontine Marshes, seizing
+without scruple some huts and sheds, from which they ejected the
+miserable tenants, and slaughtering with no greater ceremony the swine,
+cattle, and poultry of a neighbouring farm. Shortly after sunrise they
+crossed those fatal swamps which had already been partially drained by
+Boniface VIII.; and Montreal, refreshed by sleep, reconciled to his late
+mortification by the advantages opened to him in the approaching war
+with Naples, and rejoicing as he approached a home which held one who
+alone divided his heart with ambition, had resumed all the gaiety which
+belonged to his Gallic birth and his reckless habits. And that deadly
+but consecrated road, where yet may be seen the labours of Augustus,
+in the canal which had witnessed the Voyage so humourously described by
+Horace, echoed with the loud laughter and frequent snatches of wild song
+by which the barbarian robbers enlivened their rapid march.
+
+It was noon when the company entered upon that romantic pass I have
+before referred to--the ancient Lantulae. High to the left rose steep
+and lofty rocks, then covered by the prodigal verdure, and the countless
+flowers, of the closing May; while to the right the sea, gentle as a
+lake, and blue as heaven, rippled musically at their feet. Montreal, who
+largely possessed the poetry of his land, which is so eminently allied
+with a love of nature, might at another time have enjoyed the beauty of
+the scene; but at that moment less external and more household images
+were busy within him.
+
+Abruptly ascending where a winding path up the mountain offered a rough
+and painful road to their horses’ feet, the band at length arrived
+before a strong fortress of grey stone, whose towers were concealed by
+the lofty foliage, until they emerged sullenly and suddenly from the
+laughing verdure. The sound of the bugle, the pennon of the knight, the
+rapid watchword, produced a loud shout of welcome from a score or two
+of grim soldiery on the walls; the portcullis was raised, and Montreal,
+throwing himself hastily from his panting steed, sprung across the
+threshold of a jutting porch, and traversed a huge hall, when a
+lady--young, fair, and richly dressed--met him with a step equally
+swift, and fell breathless and overjoyed into his arms.
+
+“My Walter! my dear, dear Walter; welcome--ten thousand welcomes!”
+
+“Adeline, my beautiful--my adored--I see thee again!”
+
+Such were the greetings interchanged as Montreal pressed his lady to
+his heart, kissing away her tears, and lifting her face to his, while
+he gazed on its delicate bloom with all the wistful anxiety of affection
+after absence.
+
+“Fairest,” said he, tenderly, “thou hast pined, thou hast lost roundness
+and colour since we parted. Come, come, thou art too gentle, or too
+foolish, for a soldier’s love.”
+
+“Ah, Walter!” replied Adeline, clinging to him, “now thou art returned,
+and I shall be well. Thou wilt not leave me again a long, long time.”
+
+“Sweet one, no;” and flinging his arm round her waist, the lovers--for
+alas! they were not wedded!--retired to the more private chambers of the
+castle.
+
+
+
+Chapter 3.II. The Life of Love and War--the Messenger of Peace--the
+Joust.
+
+Girt with his soldiery, secure in his feudal hold, enchanted with the
+beauty of the earth, sky, and sea around, and passionately adoring his
+Adeline, Montreal for awhile forgot all his more stirring projects and
+his ruder occupations. His nature was capable of great tenderness, as of
+great ferocity; and his heart smote him when he looked at the fair cheek
+of his lady, and saw that even his presence did not suffice to bring
+back the smile and the fresh hues of old. Often he cursed that fatal
+oath of his knightly order which forbade him to wed, though with one
+more than his equal; and remorse embittered his happiest hours. That
+gentle lady in that robber hold, severed from all she had been taught
+most to prize--mother, friends, and fair fame--only loved her seducer
+the more intensely; only the more concentrated upon one object all the
+womanly and tender feelings denied every other and less sinful vent.
+But she felt her shame, though she sought to conceal it, and a yet
+more gnawing grief than even that of shame contributed to prey upon her
+spirits and undermine her health. Yet, withal, in Montreal’s presence
+she was happy, even in regret; and in her declining health she had at
+least a consolation in the hope to die while his love was undiminished.
+Sometimes they made short excursions, for the disturbed state of the
+country forbade them to wander far from the castle, through the sunny
+woods, and along the glassy sea, which make the charm of that delicious
+scenery; and that mixture of the savage with the tender, the wild
+escort, the tent in some green glade in the woods at noon, the lute and
+voice of Adeline, with the fierce soldiers grouped and listening at the
+distance, might have well suited the verse of Ariosto, and harmonised
+singularly with that strange, disordered, yet chivalric time, in which
+the Classic South became the seat of the Northern Romance. Still,
+however, Montreal maintained his secret intercourse with the Hungarian
+king, and, plunged in new projects, willingly forsook for the present
+all his designs on Rome. Yet deemed he that his more august ambition
+was only delayed, and, bright in the more distant prospects of his
+adventurous career, rose the Capitol of Rome and shone the sceptre of
+the Caesars.
+
+One day, as Montreal, with a small troop in attendance, passed on
+horseback near the walls of Terracina, the gates were suddenly thrown
+open, and a numerous throng issued forth, preceded by a singular figure,
+whose steps they followed bareheaded and with loud blessings; a train
+of monks closed the procession, chanting a hymn, of which the concluding
+words were as follows:--
+
+Beauteous on the mountains--lo, The feet of him glad tidings gladly
+bringing; The flowers along his pathway grow, And voices, heard aloft,
+to angel harps are singing: And strife and slaughter cease Before thy
+blessed way, Young Messenger of Peace! O’er the mount, and through the
+moor, Glide thy holy steps secure. Day and night no fear thou knowest,
+Lonely--but with God thou goest. Where the Heathen rage the fiercest,
+Through the armed throng thou piercest. For thy coat of mail, bedight
+In thy spotless robe of white. For the sinful sword--thy hand Bearing
+bright the silver wand: Through the camp and through the court, Through
+the bandit’s gloomy fort, On the mission of the dove, Speeds the
+minister of love; By a word the wildest taming, And the world to Christ
+reclaiming: While, as once the waters trod By the footsteps of thy
+God, War, and wrath, and rapine cease, Hush’d round thy charmed path, O
+Messenger of Peace!
+
+The stranger to whom these honours were paid was a young, unbearded man,
+clothed in white wrought with silver; he was unarmed and barefooted: in
+his hand he held a tall silver wand. Montreal and his party halted in
+astonishment and wonder, and the Knight, spurring his horse toward the
+crowd, confronted the stranger.
+
+“How, friend,” quoth the Provencal, “is thine a new order of pilgrims,
+or what especial holiness has won thee this homage?”
+
+“Back, back,” cried some of the bolder of the crowd, “let not the robber
+dare arrest the Messenger of Peace.”
+
+Montreal waved his hand disdainfully.
+
+“I speak not to you, good sirs, and the worthy friars in your rear know
+full well that I never injured herald or palmer.”
+
+The monks, ceasing from their hymn, advanced hastily to the spot; and
+indeed the devotion of Montreal had ever induced him to purchase the
+goodwill of whatever monastery neighboured his wandering home.
+
+“My son,” said the eldest of the brethren, “this is a strange spectacle,
+and a sacred: and when thou learnest all, thou wilt rather give the
+messenger a passport of safety from the unthinking courage of thy
+friends than intercept his path of peace.”
+
+“Ye puzzle still more my simple brain,” said Montreal, impatiently, “let
+the youth speak for himself; I perceive that on his mantle are the
+arms of Rome blended with other quarterings, which are a mystery to
+me,--though sufficiently versed in heraldic art as befits a noble and a
+knight.”
+
+“Signor,” said the youth, gravely, “know in me the messenger of Cola di
+Rienzi, Tribune of Rome, charged with letters to many a baron and prince
+in the ways between Rome and Naples. The arms wrought upon my mantle are
+those of the Pontiff, the City, and the Tribune.”
+
+“Umph; thou must have bold nerves to traverse the Campagna with no other
+weapon than that stick of silver!”
+
+“Thou art mistaken, Sir Knight,” replied the youth, boldly, “and judgest
+of the present by the past; know that not a single robber now lurks
+within the Campagna, the arms of the Tribune have rendered every road
+around the city as secure as the broadest street of the city itself.”
+
+“Thou tellest me wonders.”
+
+“Through the forest--and in the fortress,--through the wildest
+solitudes,--through the most populous towns,--have my comrades borne
+this silver wand unmolested and unscathed; wherever we pass along,
+thousands hail us, and tears of joy bless the messengers of him who
+hath expelled the brigand from his hold, the tyrant from his castle, and
+ensured the gains of the merchant and the hut of the peasant.”
+
+“Pardieu,” said Montreal, with a stern smile, “I ought to be thankful
+for the preference shown to me; I have not yet received the commands,
+nor felt the vengeance, of the Tribune; yet, methinks, my humble castle
+lies just within the patrimony of St. Peter.”
+
+“Pardon me, Signor Cavalier,” said the youth; “but do I address the
+renowned Knight of St. John, warrior of the Cross, yet leader of
+banditti?”
+
+“Boy, you are bold; I am Walter de Montreal.”
+
+“I am bound, then, Sir Knight, to your castle.”
+
+“Take care how thou reach it before me, or thou standest a fair chance
+of a quick exit. How now, my friends!” seeing that the crowd at these
+words gathered closer round the messenger, “Think ye that I, who have
+my mate in kings, would find a victim in an unarmed boy? Fie! give
+way--give way. Young man, follow me homeward; you are safe in my castle
+as in your mother’s arms.” So saying, Montreal, with great dignity
+and deliberate gravity, rode slowly towards his castle, his soldiers,
+wondering, at a little distance, and the white-robed messenger following
+with the crowd, who refused to depart; so great was their enthusiasm,
+that they even ascended to the gates of the dreaded castle, and insisted
+on waiting without until the return of the youth assured them of his
+safety.
+
+Montreal, who, however lawless elsewhere, strictly preserved the rights
+of the meanest boor in his immediate neighbourhood, and rather affected
+popularity with the poor, bade the crowd enter the courtyard, ordered
+his servitors to provide them with wine and refreshment, regaled the
+good monks in his great hall, and then led the way to a small room,
+where he received the messenger.
+
+“This,” said the youth, “will best explain my mission,” as he placed a
+letter before Montreal.
+
+The Knight cut the silk with his dagger, and read the epistle with great
+composure.
+
+“Your Tribune,” said he, when he had finished it, “has learned the
+laconic style of power very soon. He orders me to render this castle,
+and vacate the Papal Territory within ten days. He is obliging; I must
+have breathing time to consider the proposal; be seated, I pray you,
+young sir. Forgive me, but I should have imagined that your lord had
+enough upon his hands with his Roman barons, to make him a little more
+indulgent to us foreign visitors. Stephen Colonna--”
+
+“Is returned to Rome, and has taken the oath of allegiance; the Savelli,
+the Orsini, the Frangipani, have all subscribed their submission to the
+Buono Stato.”
+
+“How!” cried Montreal, in great surprise.
+
+“Not only have they returned, but they have submitted to the
+dispersion of all their mercenaries, and the dismantling of all their
+fortifications. The iron of the Orsini palace now barricades the
+Capitol, and the stonework of the Colonna and the Savelli has added new
+battlements to the gates of the Lateran and St. Laurence.”
+
+“Wonderful man!” said Montreal, with reluctant admiration. “By what
+means was this effected?”
+
+“A stern command and a strong force to back it. At the first sound of
+the great bell, twenty thousand Romans rise in arms. What to such an
+army are the brigands of an Orsini or a Colonna?--Sir Knight, your
+valour and renown make even Rome admire you; and I, a Roman, bid you
+beware.”
+
+“Well, I thank thee--thy news, friend, robs me of breath. So the Barons
+submit, then?”
+
+“Yes: on the first day, one of the Colonna, the Lord Adrian, took the
+oath; within a week, Stephen, assured of safe conduct, left Palestrina,
+the Savelli in his train; the Orsini followed--even Martino di Porto has
+silently succumbed.”
+
+“The Tribune--but is that his dignity--methought he was to be king--”
+
+“He was offered, and he refused, the title. His present rank, which
+arrogates no patrician honours, went far to conciliate the nobles.”
+
+“A wise knave!--I beg pardon, a sagacious prince!--Well, then, the
+Tribune lords it mightily, I suppose, over the great Roman names?”
+
+“Pardon me--he enforces impartial justice from peasant or patrician; but
+he preserves to the nobles all their just privileges and legal rank.”
+
+“Ha!--and the vain puppets, so they keep the semblance, scarce miss the
+substance--I understand. But this shows genius--the Tribune is unwed, I
+think. Does he look among the Colonna for a wife?”
+
+“Sir Knight, the Tribune is already married; within three days after his
+ascension to power, he won and bore home the daughter of the Baron di
+Raselli.”
+
+“Raselli! no great name; he might have done better.”
+
+“But it is said,” resumed the youth, smiling, “that the Tribune will
+shortly be allied to the Colonna, through his fair sister the Signora
+Irene. The Baron di Castello woos her.”
+
+“What, Adrian Colonna! Enough! you have convinced me that a man who
+contents the people and awes or conciliates the nobles is born for
+empire. My answer to this letter I will send myself. For your news, Sir
+Messenger, accept this jewel,” and the knight took from his finger a gem
+of some price. “Nay, shrink not, it was as freely given to me as it is
+now to thee.”
+
+The youth, who had been agreeably surprised, and impressed, by the
+manner of the renowned freebooter, and who was not a little astonished
+himself with the ease and familiarity with which he had been relating
+to Fra Moreale, in his own fortress, the news of Rome, bowed low as he
+accepted the gift.
+
+The astute Provencal, who saw the evident impression he had made,
+perceived also that it might be of advantage in delaying the measures
+he might deem it expedient to adopt. “Assure the Tribune,” said he, on
+dismissing the messenger, “shouldst thou return ere my letter arrive,
+that I admire his genius, hail his power, and will not fail to consider
+as favourably as I may of his demand.”
+
+“Better,” said the messenger, warmly (he was of good blood, and gentle
+bearing),--“better ten tyrants for our enemy, than one Montreal.”
+
+“An enemy! believe me, sir, I seek no enmity with princes who know how
+to govern, or a people that has the wisdom at once to rule and to obey.”
+
+The whole of that day, however, Montreal remained thoughtful and uneasy;
+he despatched trusty messengers to the Governor of Aquila (who was then
+in correspondence with Louis of Hungary), to Naples, and to Rome:--the
+last charged with a letter to the Tribune, which, without absolutely
+compromising himself, affected submission, and demanded only a longer
+leisure for the preparations of departure. But, at the same time, fresh
+fortifications were added to the castle, ample provisions were laid in,
+and, night and day, spies and scouts were stationed along the pass, and
+in the town of Terracina. Montreal was precisely the chief who prepared
+most for war when most he pretended peace.
+
+One morning, the fifth from the appearance of the Roman messenger,
+Montreal, after narrowly surveying his outworks and his stores, and
+feeling satisfied that he could hold out at least a month’s siege,
+repaired, with a gayer countenance than he had lately worn, to the
+chamber of Adeline.
+
+The lady was seated by the casement of the tower, from which might be
+seen the glorious landscape of woods, and vales, and orange groves--a
+strange garden for such a palace! As she leant her face upon her hand,
+with her profile slightly turned to Montreal, there was something
+ineffably graceful in the bend of her neck,--the small head so
+expressive of gentle blood,--with the locks parted in front in that
+simple fashion which modern times have so happily revived. But the
+expression of the half-averted face, the abstracted intentness of
+the gaze, and the profound stillness of the attitude, were so sad and
+mournful, that Montreal’s purposed greeting of gallantry and gladness
+died upon his lips. He approached in silence, and laid his hand upon her
+shoulder.
+
+Adeline turned, and taking the hand in hers, pressed it to her heart,
+and smiled away all her sadness. “Dearest,” said Montreal, “couldst thou
+know how much any shadow of grief on thy bright face darkens my heart,
+thou wouldst never grieve. But no wonder that in these rude walls--no
+female of equal rank near thee, and such mirth as Montreal can summon to
+his halls, grating to thy ear--no wonder that thou repentest thee of thy
+choice.”
+
+“Ah, no--no, Walter, I never repent. I did but think of our child as you
+entered. Alas! he was our only child! How fair he was, Walter; how he
+resembled thee!”
+
+“Nay, he had thine eyes and brow,” replied the Knight, with a faltering
+voice, and turning away his head.
+
+“Walter,” resumed the lady, sighing, “do you remember?--this is his
+birthday. He is ten years old today. We have loved each other eleven
+years, and thou hast not tired yet of thy poor Adeline.”
+
+“As well might the saints weary of paradise,” replied Montreal, with an
+enamoured tenderness, which changed into softness the whole character of
+his heroic countenance.
+
+“Could I think so, I should indeed be blest!” answered Adeline. “But
+a little while longer, and the few charms I yet possess must fade; and
+what other claim have I on thee?”
+
+“All claim;--the memory of thy first blushes--thy first kiss--of thy
+devoted sacrifices--of thy patient wanderings--of thy uncomplaining
+love! Ah, Adeline, we are of Provence, not of Italy; and when did Knight
+of Provence avoid his foe, or forsake his love? But enough, dearest, of
+home and melancholy for today. I come to bid thee forth. I have sent
+on the servitors to pitch our tent beside the sea,--we will enjoy the
+orange blossoms while we may. Ere another week pass over us, we may have
+sterner pastime and closer confines.”
+
+“How, dearest Walter! thou dost not apprehend danger?”
+
+“Thou speakest, lady-bird,” said Montreal, laughing, “as if danger were
+novelty; methinks by this time, thou shouldst know it as the atmosphere
+we breathe.”
+
+“Ah, Walter, is this to last for ever? Thou art now rich and renowned;
+canst thou not abandon this career of strife?”
+
+“Now, out on thee, Adeline! What are riches and renown but the means to
+power! And for strife, the shield of warriors was my cradle--pray the
+saints it be my bier! These wild and wizard extremes of life--from the
+bower to the tent--from the cavern to the palace--today a wandering
+exile, tomorrow the equal of kings--make the true element of the
+chivalry of my Norman sires. Normandy taught me war, and sweet Provence
+love. Kiss me, dear Adeline; and now let thy handmaids attire thee.
+Forget not thy lute, sweet one. We will rouse the echoes with the songs
+of Provence.”
+
+The ductile temper of Adeline yielded easily to the gaiety of her lord;
+and the party soon sallied from the castle towards the spot in which
+Montreal had designed their resting-place during the heats of day. But
+already prepared for all surprise, the castle was left strictly guarded,
+and besides the domestic servitors of the castle, a detachment of ten
+soldiers, completely armed, accompanied the lovers. Montreal himself
+wore his corselet, and his squires followed with his helmet and lance.
+Beyond the narrow defile at the base of the castle, the road at that day
+opened into a broad patch of verdure, circled on all sides, save that
+open to the sea, by wood, interspersed with myrtle and orange, and
+a wilderness of odorous shrubs. In this space, and sheltered by the
+broad-spreading and classic fagus (so improperly translated into the
+English “beech”), a gay pavilion was prepared, which commanded the
+view of the sparkling sea;--shaded from the sun, but open to the gentle
+breeze. This was poor Adeline’s favourite recreation, if recreation it
+might be called. She rejoiced to escape from the gloomy walls of her
+castellated prison, and to enjoy the sunshine and the sweets of that
+voluptuous climate without the fatigue which of late all exercise
+occasioned her. It was a gallantry on the part of Montreal, who foresaw
+how short an interval might elapse before the troops of Rienzi besieged
+his walls; and who was himself no less at home in the bower than in the
+field.
+
+As they reclined within the pavilion--the lover and his lady,--of the
+attendants without, some lounged idly on the beach; some prepared the
+awning of a pleasure-boat against the decline of the sun; some, in a
+ruder tent, out of sight in the wood, arranged the mid-day repast; while
+the strings of the lute, touched by Montreal himself with a careless
+skill, gave their music to the dreamy stillness of the noon.
+
+While thus employed, one of Montreal’s scouts arrived breathless and
+heated at the tent.
+
+“Captain,” said he, “a company of thirty lances completely armed, with
+a long retinue of squires and pages, have just quitted Terracina. Their
+banners bear the two-fold insignia of Rome and the Colonna.”
+
+“Ho!” said Montreal, gaily, “such a troop is a welcome addition to our
+company; send our squire hither.”
+
+The squire appeared.
+
+“Hie thee on thy steed towards the procession thou wilt meet with in the
+pass, (nay, sweet lady mine, no forbiddal!) seek the chief, and say that
+the good Knight Walter de Montreal sends him greeting, and prays him,
+in passing our proper territory, to rest awhile with us a welcome guest;
+and--stay,--add, that if to while an hour or so in gentle pastime be
+acceptable to him, Walter de Montreal would rejoice to break a lance
+with him, or any knight in his train, in honour of our respective
+ladies. Hie thee quick!”
+
+“Walter, Walter,” began Adeline, who had that keen and delicate
+sensitiveness to her situation, which her reckless lord often wantonly
+forgot; “Walter, dear Walter, canst thou think it honour to--”
+
+“Hush thee, sweet Fleur de lis! Thou hast not seen pastime this many
+a day; I long to convince thee that thou art still the fairest lady in
+Italy--ay, and of Christendom. But these Italians are craven knights,
+and thou needst not fear that my proffer will be accepted. But in truth,
+lady mine, I rejoice for graver objects, that chance throws a Roman
+noble, perhaps a Colonna, in my way;--women understand not these
+matters; and aught concerning Rome touches us home at this moment.”
+
+With that the Knight frowned, as was his wont in thought, and Adeline
+ventured to say no more, but retired to the interior division of the
+pavilion.
+
+Meanwhile the squire approached the procession that had now reached the
+middle of the pass. And a stately and gallant company it was:--if the
+complete harness of the soldiery seemed to attest a warlike purpose,
+it was contradicted on the other hand by a numerous train of unarmed
+squires and pages gorgeously attired, while the splendid blazon of
+two heralds preceding the standard-bearers, proclaimed their object
+as peaceful, and their path as sacred. It required but a glance at the
+company to tell the leader. Arrayed in a breast-plate of steel, wrought
+profusely with gold arabesques, over which was a mantle of dark green
+velvet, bordered with pearls, while above his long dark locks waved a
+black ostrich plume in a high Macedonian cap, such as, I believe, is now
+worn by the Grand Master of the order of St. Constantine, rode in the
+front of the party, a young cavalier, distinguished from his immediate
+comrades, partly by his graceful presence and partly by his splendid
+dress.
+
+The squire approached respectfully, and dismounting, delivered himself
+of his charge.
+
+The young cavalier smiled, as he answered, “Bear back to Sir Walter de
+Montreal the greeting of Adrian Colonna, Baron di Castello, and say,
+that the solemn object of my present journey will scarce permit me to
+encounter the formidable lance of so celebrated a knight; and I regret
+this the more, inasmuch as I may not yield to any dame the palm of my
+liege lady’s beauty. I must live in hope of a happier occasion. For
+the rest, I will cheerfully abide for some few hours the guest of so
+courteous a host.”
+
+The squire bowed low. “My master,” said he, hesitatingly, “will grieve
+much to miss so noble an opponent. But my message refers to all this
+knightly and gallant train; and if the Lord Adrian di Castello deems
+himself forbidden the joust by the object of his present journey, surely
+one of his comrades will be his proxy with my master.”
+
+Out and quickly spoke a young noble by the side of Adrian, Riccardo
+Annibaldi, who afterwards did good service both to the Tribune and to
+Rome, and whose valour brought him, in later life, to an untimely end.
+
+“By the Lord Adrian’s permission,” cried he, “I will break a lance
+with--”
+
+“Hush! Annibaldi,” interrupted Adrian. “And you, Sir Squire, know, that
+Adrian di Castello permits no proxy in arms. Avise the Knight of St.
+John that we accept his hospitality, and if, after some converse on
+graver matters, he should still desire so light an entertainment, I will
+forget that I am the ambassador to Naples, and remember only that I am a
+Knight of the Empire. You have your answer.”
+
+The squire with much ceremony made his obeisance, remounted his steed,
+and returned in a half-gallop to his master.
+
+“Forgive me, dear Annibaldi,” said Adrian, “that I balked your valour;
+and believe me that I never more longed to break a lance against any man
+than I do against this boasting Frenchman. But bethink you, that though
+to us, brought up in the dainty laws of chivalry, Walter de Montreal
+is the famous Knight of Provence, to the Tribune of Rome, whose grave
+mission we now fulfil, he is but the mercenary captain of a Free
+Company. Grievously in his eyes should we sully our dignity by so wanton
+and irrelevant a holiday conflict with a declared and professional
+brigand.”
+
+“For all that,” said Annibaldi, “the brigand ought not to boast that a
+Roman knight shunned a Provencal lance.”
+
+“Cease, I pray thee!” said Adrian, impatiently. In fact, the young
+Colonna, already chafed bitterly against his discreet and dignified
+rejection of Montreal’s proffer, and recollecting with much pique
+the disparaging manner in which the Provencal had spoken of the Roman
+chivalry, as well as a certain tone of superiority, which in all warlike
+matters Montreal had assumed over him,--he now felt his cheek burn, and
+his lip quiver. Highly skilled in the martial accomplishments of his
+time, he had a natural and excusable desire to prove that he was at
+least no unworthy antagonist even of the best lance in Italy: and, added
+to this, the gallantry of the age made him feel it a sort of treason to
+his mistress to forego any means of asserting her perfections.
+
+It was, therefore, with considerable irritation that Adrian, as the
+pavilion of Montreal became visible, perceived the squire returning
+to him. And the reader will judge how much this was increased when the
+latter, once more dismounting, accosted him thus:
+
+“My master, the Knight of St. John, on hearing the courteous answer of
+the Lord Adrian di Castello, bids me say, that lest the graver converse
+the Lord Adrian refers to should mar gentle and friendly sport, he
+ventures respectfully to suggest, that the tilt should preface the
+converse. The sod before the tent is so soft and smooth, that even a
+fall could be attended with no danger to knight or steed.”
+
+“By our Lady!” cried Adrian and Annibaldi in a breath, “but thy last
+words are discourteous; and” (proceeded Adrian, recovering himself)
+“since thy master will have it so, let him look to his horse’s girths. I
+will not gainsay his fancy.”
+
+Montreal, who had thus insisted upon the exhibition, partly, it may
+be, from the gay and ruffling bravado, common still amongst his brave
+countrymen; partly because he was curious of exhibiting before those who
+might soon be his open foes his singular and unrivalled address in arms,
+was yet more moved to it on learning the name of the leader of the
+Roman Company; for his vain and haughty spirit, however it had
+disguised resentment at the time, had by no means forgiven certain
+warm expressions of Adrian in the palace of Stephen Colonna, and in the
+unfortunate journey to Corneto. While Adrian, halting at the entrance of
+the defile, aided by his squires, indignantly, but carefully, indued the
+rest of his armour, and saw, himself, to the girths, stirrup-leathers,
+and various buckles in the caparison of his noble charger, Montreal in
+great glee kissed his lady, who, though too soft to be angry, was deeply
+vexed, (and yet her vexation half forgotten in fear for his safety,)
+snatched up her scarf of blue, which he threw over his breastplate, and
+completed his array with the indifference of a man certain of victory.
+He was destined, however, to one disadvantage, and that the greatest;
+his armour and lance had been brought from the castle--not his warhorse.
+His palfrey was too slight to bear the great weight of his armour, nor
+amongst his troop was there one horse that for power and bone could
+match with Adrian’s. He chose, however, the strongest that was at hand,
+and a loud shout from his wild followers testified their admiration when
+he sprung unaided from the ground into the saddle--a rare and difficult
+feat of agility in a man completely arrayed in the ponderous armour
+which issued at that day from the forges of Milan, and was worn far more
+weighty in Italy than any other part of Europe. While both companies
+grouped slowly, and mingled in a kind of circle round the green turf,
+and the Roman heralds, with bustling importance, attempted to marshal
+the spectators into order, Montreal rode his charger round the sward,
+forcing it into various caracoles, and exhibiting, with the vanity that
+belonged to him, his exquisite and practised horsemanship.
+
+At length, Adrian, his visor down, rode slowly into the green space,
+amidst the cheers of his party. The two Knights, at either end, gravely
+fronted each other; they made the courtesies with their lances, which,
+in friendly and sportive encounters, were customary; and, as they thus
+paused for the signal of encounter, the Italians trembled for the honour
+of their chief: Montreal’s stately height and girth of chest forming a
+strong contrast, even in armour, to the form of his opponent, which was
+rather under the middle standard, and though firmly knit, slightly and
+slenderly built. But to that perfection was skill in arms brought in
+those times, that great strength and size were far from being either
+the absolute requisites, or even the usual attributes, of the more
+celebrated knights; in fact, so much was effected by the power and the
+management of the steed, that a light weight in the rider was often
+rather to his advantage than his prejudice: and, even at a later period,
+the most accomplished victors in the tourney, the French Bayard and the
+English Sydney, were far from remarkable either for bulk or stature.
+
+Whatever the superiority of Montreal in physical power, was, in much,
+counterbalanced by the inferiority of his horse, which, though a
+thick-built and strong Calabrian, had neither the blood, bone, nor
+practised discipline of the northern charger of the Roman. The shining
+coat of the latter, coal black, was set off by a scarlet cloth wrought
+in gold; the neck and shoulders were clad in scales of mail; and from
+the forehead projected a long point, like the horn of an unicorn, while
+on its crest waved a tall plume of scarlet and white feathers. As the
+mission of Adrian to Naples was that of pomp and ceremony to a court of
+great splendour, so his array and retinue were befitting the occasion
+and the passion for show that belonged to the time; and the very bridle
+of his horse, which was three inches broad, was decorated with gold, and
+even jewels. The Knight himself was clad in mail, which had tested the
+finest art of the celebrated Ludovico of Milan; and, altogether, his
+appearance was unusually gallant and splendid, and seemed still more so
+beside the plain but brightly polished and artfully flexile armour of
+Montreal, (adorned only with his lady’s scarf,) and the common and rude
+mail of his charger. This contrast, however, was not welcome to the
+Provencal, whose vanity was especially indulged in warlike equipments;
+and who, had he foreseen the “pastime” that awaited him, would have
+outshone even the Colonna.
+
+The trumpeters of either party gave a short blast--the Knights remained
+erect as statues of iron; a second, and each slightly bent over his
+saddle-bow; a third, and with spears couched, slackened reins, and
+at full speed, on they rushed, and fiercely they met midway. With the
+reckless arrogance which belonged to him, Montreal had imagined, that at
+the first touch of his lance Adrian would have been unhorsed; but to his
+great surprise the young Roman remained firm, and amidst the shouts of
+his party, passed on to the other end of the lists. Montreal himself was
+rudely shaken, but lost neither seat nor stirrup.
+
+“This can be no carpet knight,” muttered Montreal between his teeth,
+as, this time, he summoned all his skill for a second encounter; while
+Adrian, aware of the great superiority of his charger, resolved to bring
+it to bear against his opponent. Accordingly, when the Knights again
+rushed forward, Adrian, covering himself well with his buckler, directed
+his care less against the combatant, whom he felt no lance wielded by
+mortal hand was likely to dislodge, than against the less noble animal
+he bestrode. The shock of Montreal’s charge was like an avalanche--his
+lance shivered into a thousand pieces, Adrian lost both stirrups, and
+but for the strong iron bows which guarded the saddle in front and rear,
+would have been fairly unhorsed; as it was, he was almost doubled back
+by the encounter, and his ears rung and his eyes reeled, so that for a
+moment or two he almost lost all consciousness. But his steed had well
+repaid its nurture and discipline. Just as the combatants closed, the
+animal, rearing on high, pressed forward with its mighty crest against
+its opponent with a force so irresistible as to drive back Montreal’s
+horse several paces: while Adrian’s lance, poised with exquisite skill,
+striking against the Provencal’s helmet, somewhat rudely diverted the
+Knight’s attention for the moment from his rein. Montreal, drawing the
+curb too tightly in the suddenness of his recovery, the horse reared
+on end; and, receiving at that instant, full upon his breastplate, the
+sharp horn and mailed crest of Adrian’s charger--fell back over its
+rider upon the sward. Montreal disencumbered himself in great rage and
+shame, as a faint cry from his pavilion reached his ear, and redoubled
+his mortification. He rose with a lightness which astonished the
+beholders; for so heavy was the armour worn at that day, that few
+knights once stretched upon the ground could rise without assistance;
+and drawing his sword, cried out fiercely--“On foot, on foot!--the fall
+was not mine, but this accursed beast’s, that I must needs for my sins
+raise to the rank of a charger. Come on--”
+
+“Nay, Sir Knight,” said Adrian, drawing off his gauntlets and unbuckling
+his helmet, which he threw on the ground, “I come to thee a guest and
+a friend; but to fight on foot is the encounter of mortal foes. Did I
+accept thy offer, my defeat would but stain thy knighthood.”
+
+Montreal, whose passion had beguiled him for the moment, sullenly
+acquiesced in this reasoning. Adrian hastened to soothe his antagonist.
+“For the rest,” said he, “I cannot pretend to the prize. Your lance lost
+me my stirrups--mine left you unshaken. You say right; the defeat, if
+any, was that of your steed.”
+
+“We may meet again when I am more equally horsed,” said Montreal, still
+chafing.
+
+“Now, our Lady forbid!” exclaimed Adrian, with so devout an earnestness
+that the bystanders could not refrain from laughing; and even Montreal
+grimly and half-reluctantly, joined in the merriment. The courtesy of
+his foe, however, conciliated and touched the more frank and soldierly
+qualities of his nature, and composing himself, he replied:--
+
+“Signor di Castello, I rest your debtor for a courtesy that I have but
+little imitated. Howbeit, if thou wouldst bind me to thee for ever, thou
+wilt suffer me to send for my own charger, and afford me a chance to
+retrieve mine honour. With that steed, or with one equal to thine, which
+seems to me of the English breed, I will gage all I possess, lands,
+castle, and gold, sword and spurs, to maintain this pass, one by one,
+against all thy train.”
+
+Fortunately, perhaps, for Adrian, ere he could reply, Riccardo Annibaldi
+cried, with great warmth, “Sir Knight, I have with me two steeds well
+practised in the tourney; take thy choice, and accept in me a champion
+of the Roman against the French chivalry;--there is my gage.”
+
+“Signor,” replied Montreal, with ill-suppressed delight, “thy proffer
+shows so gallant and free a spirit, that it were foul sin in me to balk
+it. I accept thy gage, and whichever of thy steeds thou rejectest, in
+God’s name bring it hither, and let us waste no words before action.”
+
+Adrian, who felt that hitherto the Romans had been more favoured by
+fortune than merit, vainly endeavoured to prevent this second hazard.
+But Annibaldi was greatly chafed, and his high rank rendered it
+impolitic in Adrian to offend him by peremptory prohibition; the
+Colonna reluctantly, therefore, yielded his assent to the engagement.
+Annibaldi’s steeds were led to the spot, the one a noble roan, the other
+a bay, of somewhat less breeding and bone, but still of great strength
+and price. Montreal finding the choice pressed upon him, gallantly
+selected the latter and less excellent.
+
+Annibaldi was soon arrayed for the encounter, and Adrian gave the word
+to the trumpeters. The Roman was of a stature almost equal to that of
+Montreal, and though some years younger, seemed, in his armour, nearly
+of the same thews and girth, so that the present antagonists appeared
+at the first glance more evenly matched than the last. But this time
+Montreal, well horsed, inspired to the utmost by shame and pride,
+felt himself a match for an army; and he met the young Baron with
+such prowess, that while the very plume on his casque seemed scarcely
+stirred, the Italian was thrown several paces from his steed, and it was
+not till some moments after his visor was removed by his squires that
+he recovered his senses. This event restored Montreal to all his natural
+gaiety of humour, and effectually raised the spirits of his followers,
+who had felt much humbled by the previous encounter.
+
+He himself assisted Annibaldi to rise with great courtesy, and a
+profusion of compliments, which the proud Roman took in stern silence,
+and then led the way to the pavilion, loudly ordering the banquet to be
+spread. Annibaldi, however, loitered behind, and Adrian, who penetrated
+his thoughts, and who saw that over their cups a quarrel between
+the Provencal and his friend was likely to ensue, drawing him aside,
+said:--“Methinks, dear Annibaldi, it would be better if you, with the
+chief of our following, were to proceed onward to Fondi, where I will
+join you at sunset. My squires, and some eight lances, will suffice for
+my safeguard here; and, to say truth, I desire a few private words
+with our strange host, in the hope that he may be peaceably induced
+to withdraw from hence without the help of our Roman troops, who have
+enough elsewhere to feed their valour.”
+
+Annibaldi pressed his companion’s hand: “I understand thee,” he replied
+with a slight blush, “and, indeed, I could but ill brook the complacent
+triumph of the barbarian. I accept thy offer.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 3.III. The Conversation between the Roman and the
+Provencal--Adeline’s History--the Moonlit Sea--the Lute and the Song.
+
+As soon as Annibaldi, with the greater part of the retinue, was gone,
+Adrian, divesting himself of his heavy greaves, entered alone the
+pavilion of the Knight of St. John. Montreal had already doffed all his
+armour, save the breastplate, and he now stepped forward to welcome his
+guest with the winning and easy grace which better suited his birth
+than his profession. He received Adrian’s excuses for the absence of
+Annibaldi and the other knights of his train with a smile which seemed
+to prove how readily he divined the cause, and conducted him to the
+other and more private division of the pavilion in which the repast
+(rendered acceptable by the late exercise of guest and host) was
+prepared; and here Adrian for the first time discovered Adeline. Long
+inurement to the various and roving life of her lover, joined to a
+certain pride which she derived from conscious, though forfeited, rank,
+gave to the outward manner of that beautiful lady an ease and freedom
+which often concealed, even from Montreal, her sensitiveness to her
+unhappy situation. At times, indeed, when alone with Montreal, whom she
+loved with all the devotion of romance, she was sensible only to the
+charm of a presence which consoled her for all things; but in his
+frequent absence, or on the admission of any stranger, the illusion
+vanished--the reality returned. Poor lady! Nature had not formed,
+education had not reared, habit had not reconciled, her to the breath of
+shame!
+
+The young Colonna was much struck by her beauty, and more by her gentle
+and highborn grace. Like her lord she appeared younger than she was;
+time seemed to spare a bloom which an experienced eye might have told
+was destined to an early grave; and there was something almost girlish
+in the lightness of her form--the braided luxuriance of her rich auburn
+hair, and the colour that went and came, not only with every moment,
+but almost with every word. The contrast between her and Montreal
+became them both--it was the contrast of devoted reliance and protecting
+strength: each looked fairer in the presence of the other: and as Adrian
+sate down to the well-laden board, he thought he had never seen a pair
+more formed for the poetic legends of their native Troubadours.
+
+Montreal conversed gaily upon a thousand matters--pressed the wine
+flasks--and selected for his guest the most delicate portions of the
+delicious spicola of the neighbouring sea, and the rich flesh of the
+wild boar of the Pontine Marshes.
+
+“Tell me,” said Montreal, as their hunger was now appeased--“tell me,
+noble Adrian, how fares your kinsman, Signor Stephen? A brave old man
+for his years.”
+
+“He bears him as the youngest of us,” answered Adrian.
+
+“Late events must have shocked him a little,” said Montreal, with an
+arch smile. “Ah, you look grave--yet commend my foresight;--I was the
+first who prophesied to thy kinsman the rise of Cola di Rienzi; he seems
+a great man--never more great than in conciliating the Colonna and the
+Orsini.”
+
+“The Tribune,” returned Adrian, evasively, “is certainly a man of
+extraordinary genius. And now, seeing him command, my only wonder is how
+he ever brooked to obey--majesty seems a very part of him.”
+
+“Men who win power, easily put on its harness, dignity,” answered
+Montreal; “and if I hear aright--(pledge me to your lady’s health)--the
+Tribune, if not himself nobly born will soon be nobly connected.”
+
+“He is already married to a Raselli, an old Roman house,” replied
+Adrian.
+
+“You evade my pursuit,--Le doulx soupir! le doulx soupir! as the old
+Cabestan has it”--said Montreal, laughing. “Well, you have pledged me
+one cup to your lady, pledge another to the fair Irene, the Tribune’s
+sister--always provided they two are not one.--You smile and shake your
+head.”
+
+“I do not disguise from you, Sir Knight,” answered Adrian, “that when my
+present embassy is over, I trust the alliance between the Tribune and a
+Colonna will go far towards the benefit of both.”
+
+“I have heard rightly, then,” said Montreal, in a grave and thoughtful
+tone. “Rienzi’s power must, indeed, be great.”
+
+“Of that my mission is a proof. Are you aware, Signor de Montreal, that
+Louis, King of Hungary--”
+
+“How! what of him?”
+
+“Has referred the decision of the feud between himself and Joanna of
+Naples, respecting the death of her royal spouse, his brother, to the
+fiat of the Tribune? This is the first time, methinks, since the death
+of Constantine, that so great a confidence and so high a charge were
+ever intrusted to a Roman!”
+
+“By all the saints in the calendar,” cried Montreal, crossing himself,
+“this news is indeed amazing! The fierce Louis of Hungary waive the
+right of the sword, and choose other umpire than the field of battle!”
+
+“And this,” continued Adrian, in a significant tone, “this it was which
+induced me to obey your courteous summons. I know, brave Montreal, that
+you hold intercourse with Louis. Louis has given to the Tribune the best
+pledge of his amity and alliance; will you do wisely if you--”
+
+“Wage war with the Hungarian’s ally,” interrupted Montreal. “This you
+were about to add; the same thought crossed myself. My Lord, pardon
+me--Italians sometimes invent what they wish. On the honour of a knight
+of the Empire, these tidings are the naked truth?”
+
+“By my honour, and on the Cross,” answered Adrian, drawing himself up;
+“and in proof thereof, I am now bound to Naples to settle with the Queen
+the preliminaries of the appointed trial.”
+
+“Two crowned heads before the tribunal of a plebeian, and one a
+defendant against the charge of murther!” muttered Montreal; “the news
+might well amaze me!”
+
+He remained musing and silent a little while, till looking up, he caught
+Adeline’s tender gaze fixed upon him with that deep solicitude with
+which she watched the outward effect of schemes and projects she was too
+soft to desire to know, and too innocent to share.
+
+“Lady mine,” said the Provencal, fondly, “how sayest thou? must we
+abandon our mountain castle, and these wild woodland scenes, for the
+dull walls of a city? I fear me so.--The Lady Adeline,” he continued,
+turning to Adrian, “is of a singular bias; she hates the gay crowds
+of streets and thoroughfares, and esteems no palace like the solitary
+outlaw’s hold. Yet, methinks, she might outshine all the faces of
+Italy,--thy mistress, Lord Adrian, of course, excepted.”
+
+“It is an exception which only a lover, and that too a betrothed lover,
+would dare to make,” replied Adrian, gallantly.
+
+“Nay,” said Adeline, in a voice singularly sweet and clear, “nay, I know
+well at what price to value my lord’s flattery, and Signor di Castello’s
+courtesy. But you are bound, Sir Knight, to a court, that, if fame speak
+true, boasts in its Queen the very miracle and mould of beauty.”
+
+“It is some years since I saw the Queen of Naples,” answered Adrian;
+“and I little dreamed then, when I gazed upon that angel face, that I
+should live to hear her accused of the foulest murther that ever stained
+even Italian royalty.”
+
+“And, as if resolved to prove her guilt,” said Montreal, “ere long
+be sure she will marry the very man who did the deed. Of this I have
+certain proof.”
+
+Thus conversing, the Knights wore away the daylight, and beheld from the
+open tent the sun cast his setting glow over the purple sea. Adeline
+had long retired from the board, and they now saw her seated with her
+handmaids on a mound by the beach; while the sound of her lute faintly
+reached their ears. As Montreal caught the air, he turned from the
+converse, and sighing, half shaded his face with his hand. Somehow or
+other the two Knights had worn away all the little jealousy or pique
+which they had conceived against each other at Rome. Both imbued with
+the soldier-like spirit of the age, their contest in the morning had
+served to inspire them with that strange kind of respect, and even
+cordiality, which one brave man even still (how much more at that day!)
+feels for another, whose courage he has proved while vindicating his
+own. It is like the discovery of a congenial sentiment hitherto latent;
+and, in a life of camps, often establishes sudden and lasting friendship
+in the very lap of enmity. This feeling had been ripened by their
+subsequent familiar intercourse, and was increased on Adrian’s side by
+the feeling, that in convincing Montreal of the policy of withdrawing
+from the Roman territories, he had obtained an advantage that well
+repaid whatever danger and delay he had undergone.
+
+The sigh, and the altered manner of Montreal, did not escape Adrian, and
+he naturally connected it with something relating to her whose music had
+been its evident cause.
+
+“Yon lovely dame,” said he, gently, “touches the lute with an exquisite
+and fairy hand, and that plaintive air seems to my ear as of the
+minstrelsy of Provence.”
+
+“It is the air I taught her,” said Montreal, sadly, “married as it is
+to indifferent words, with which I first wooed a heart that should never
+have given itself to me! Ay, young Colonna, many a night has my boat
+been moored beneath the starlit Sorgia that washes her proud father’s
+halls, and my voice awaked the stillness of the waving sedges with a
+soldier’s serenade. Sweet memories! bitter fruit!”
+
+“Why bitter? ye love each other still.”
+
+“But I am vowed to celibacy, and Adeline de Courval is leman where she
+should be wedded dame. Methinks I fret at that thought even more than
+she,--dear Adeline!”
+
+“Your lady, as all would guess, is then nobly born?”
+
+“She is,” answered Montreal, with a deep and evident feeling which, save
+in love, rarely, if ever, crossed his hardy breast. “She is! our tale is
+a brief one:--we loved each other as children: Her family was wealthier
+than mine: We were separated. I was given to understand that she
+abandoned me. I despaired, and in despair I took the cross of St. John.
+Chance threw us again together. I learned that her love was
+undecayed. Poor child!--she was even then, sir, but a child! I,
+wild,--reckless--and not unskilled, perhaps, in the arts that woo and
+win. She could not resist my suit or her own affection!--We fled. In
+those words you see the thread of my after history. My sword and
+my Adeline were all my fortune. Society frowned on us. The Church
+threatened my soul. The Grand Master my life. I became a knight of
+fortune. Fate and my right hand favoured me. I have made those who
+scorned me tremble at my name. That name shall yet blaze, a star or a
+meteor, in the front of troubled nations, and I may yet win by force
+from the Pontiff the dispensation refused to my prayers. On the same
+day, I may offer Adeline the diadem and the ring.--Eno’ of this;--you
+marked Adeline’s cheek!--Seems it not delicate? I like not that
+changeful flush,--and she moves languidly,--her step that was so
+blithe!”
+
+“Change of scene and the mild south will soon restore her health,” said
+Adrian; “and in your peculiar life she is so little brought in contact
+with others, especially of her own sex, that I trust she is but seldom
+made aware of whatever is painful in her situation. And woman’s love,
+Montreal, as we both have learned, is a robe that wraps her from many a
+storm!”
+
+“You speak kindly,” returned the Knight; “but you know not all our cause
+of grief. Adeline’s father, a proud sieur, died,--they said of a broken
+heart,--but old men die of many another disease than that! The mother, a
+dame who boasted her descent from princes, bore the matter more sternly
+than the sire; clamoured for revenge,--which was odd, for she is as
+religious as a Dominican, and revenge is not Christian in a woman,
+though it is knightly in a man!--Well, my Lord, we had one boy, our
+only child; he was Adeline’s solace in my absence,--his pretty ways were
+worth the world to her! She loved him so, that, but he had her eyes and
+looked like her when he slept, I should have been jealous! He grew up in
+our wild life, strong and comely; the young rogue, he would have been a
+brave knight! My evil stars led me to Milan, where I had business with
+the Visconti. One bright morning in June, our boy was stolen; verily
+that June was like a December to us!”
+
+“Stolen!--how?--by whom?”
+
+“The first question is answered easily,--the boy was with his nurse in
+the courtyard, the idle wench left him for but a minute or two--so she
+avers--fetch him some childish toy; when she returned he was gone; not a
+trace left, save his pretty cap with the plume in it! Poor Adeline, many
+a time have I found her kissing that relic till it was wet with tears!”
+
+“A strange fortune, in truth. But what interest could--”
+
+“I will tell you,” interrupted Montreal, “the only conjecture I could
+form;--Adeline’s mother, on learning we had a son, sent to Adeline a
+letter, that well nigh broke her heart, reproaching her for her love
+to me, and so forth, as if that had made her the vilest of the sex.
+She bade her take compassion on her child, and not bring him up to a
+robber’s life,--so was she pleased to style the bold career of Walter de
+Montreal. She offered to rear the child in her own dull halls, and fit
+him, no doubt, for a shaven pate and a monk’s cowl. She chafed much that
+a mother would not part with her treasure! She alone, partly in revenge,
+partly in silly compassion for Adeline’s child, partly, it may be, from
+some pious fanaticism, could, it so seemed to me, have robbed us of our
+boy. On inquiry, I learned from the nurse--who, but that she was of the
+same sex as Adeline, should have tasted my dagger,--that in their walks,
+a woman of advanced years, but seemingly of humble rank, (that might
+be disguise!) had often stopped, and caressed and admired the child. I
+repaired at once to France, sought the old Castle of De Courval;--it had
+passed to the next heir, and the old widow was go on, none knew whither,
+but, it was conjectured, to take the veil in some remote convent.”
+
+“And you never saw her since?”
+
+“Yes, at Rome,” answered Montreal, turning pale; “when last there I
+chanced suddenly upon her; and then at length I learned my boy’s fate,
+and the truth of my own surmise; she confessed to the theft--and my
+child was dead! I have not dared to tell Adeline of this; it seems to me
+as if it would be like plucking the shaft from the wounded side--and she
+would die at once, bereft of the uncertainty that rankles within her.
+She has still a hope--it comforts her; though my heart bleeds when I
+think on its vanity. Let this pass, my Colonna.”
+
+And Montreal started to his feet as if he strove, by a strong effort, to
+shake off the weakness that had crept over him in his narration.
+
+“Think no more of it. Life is short--its thorns are many--let us not
+neglect any of its flowers. This is piety and wisdom too; Nature that
+meant me to struggle and to toil, gave me, happily, the sanguine heart
+and the elastic soul of France; and I have lived long enough to own that
+to die young is not an evil. Come, Lord Adrian, let us join my lady ere
+you part, if part you must; the moon will be up soon, and Fondi is but
+a short journey hence. You know that though I admire not your Petrarch,
+you with more courtesy laud our Provencal ballads, and you must hear
+Adeline sing one that you may prize them the more. The race of the
+Troubadours is dead, but the minstrelsy survives the minstrel!”
+
+Adrian, who scarce knew what comfort to administer to the affliction of
+his companion, was somewhat relieved by the change in his mood, though
+his more grave and sensitive nature was a little startled at its
+suddenness. But, as we have before seen, Montreal’s spirit (and this
+made perhaps its fascination) was as a varying and changeful sky;
+the gayest sunshine, and the fiercest storm swept over it in rapid
+alternation; and elements of singular might and grandeur, which,
+properly directed and concentrated, would have made him the blessing and
+glory of his time, were wielded with a boyish levity, roused into war
+and desolation, or lulled into repose and smoothness, with all the
+suddenness of chance, and all the fickleness of caprice.
+
+Sauntering down to the beach, the music of Adeline’s lute sounded more
+distinctly in their ears, and involuntarily they hushed their steps
+upon the rich and odorous turf, as in a voice, though not powerful,
+marvellously sweet and clear, and well adapted to the simple fashion of
+the words and melody, she sang the following stanzas:--
+
+Lay of the Lady of Provence.
+
+     1.
+
+     Ah, why art thou sad, my heart?  Why
+     Darksome and lonely?
+     Frowns the face of the happy sky
+     Over thee only?
+     Ah me, ah me!
+     Render to joy the earth!
+     Grief shuns, not envies, Mirth;
+     But leave one quiet spot,
+     Where Mirth may enter not,
+     To sigh, Ah, me!--
+     Ah me.
+
+     2.
+
+     As a bird, though the sky be clear,
+     Feels the storm lower;
+     My soul bodes the tempest near,
+     In the sunny hour;
+     Ah me, ah me!
+     Be glad while yet we may!
+     I bid thee, my heart, be gay;
+     And still I know not why,--
+     Thou answerest with a sigh,
+     (Fond heart!) Ah me!--
+     Ah me!
+
+     3.
+
+     As this twilight o’er the skies,
+     Doubt brings the sorrow;
+     Who knows when the daylight dies,
+     What waits the morrow?
+     Ah me, ah me!
+     Be blithe, be blithe, my lute,
+     Thy strings will soon be mute;
+     Be blithe--hark! while it dies,
+     The note forewarning, sighs
+     Its last--Ah me!
+     Ah me!
+
+“My own Adeline--my sweetest night-bird,” half-whispered Montreal, and
+softly approaching, he threw himself at his lady’s feet--“thy song is
+too sad for this golden eve.”
+
+“No sound ever went to the heart,” said Adrian, “whose arrow was not
+feathered by sadness. True sentiment, Montreal, is twin with melancholy,
+though not with gloom.”
+
+The lady looked softly and approvingly up at Adrian’s face; she was
+pleased with its expression; she was pleased yet more with words of
+which women rather than men would acknowledge the truth. Adrian returned
+the look with one of deep and eloquent sympathy and respect; in fact,
+the short story he had heard from Montreal had interested him deeply in
+her; and never to the brilliant queen, to whose court he was bound, did
+his manner wear so chivalric and earnest a homage as it did to that lone
+and ill-fated lady on the twilight shores of Terracina.
+
+Adeline blushed slightly and sighed; and then, to break the awkwardness
+of a pause which had stolen over them, as Montreal, unheeding the last
+remark of Adrian, was tuning the strings of the lute, she said--“Of
+course the Signor di Castello shares the universal enthusiasm for
+Petrarch?”
+
+“Ay,” cried Montreal; “my lady is Petrarch mad, like the rest of them:
+but all I know is, that never did belted knight and honest lover woo in
+such fantastic and tortured strains.”
+
+“In Italy,” answered Adrian, “common language is exaggeration;--but even
+your own Troubadour poetry might tell you that love, ever seeking a new
+language of its own, cannot but often run into what to all but lovers
+seems distortion and conceit.”
+
+“Come, dear Signor,” said Montreal, placing the lute in Adrian’s hands,
+“let Adeline be the umpire between us, which music--yours or mine--can
+woo the more blandly.”
+
+“Ah,” said Adrian, laughing; “I fear me, Sir Knight, you have already
+bribed the umpire.”
+
+Montreal’s eyes and Adeline’s met; and in that gaze Adeline forgot all
+her sorrows.
+
+With a practised and skilful hand, Adrian touched the strings; and
+selecting a song which was less elaborate than those mostly in vogue
+amongst his countrymen, though still conceived in the Italian spirit,
+and in accordance with the sentiment he had previously expressed to
+Adeline, he sang as follows:--
+
+Love’s Excuse for Sadness.
+
+Chide not, beloved, if oft with thee I feel not rapture wholly; For aye
+the heart that’s fill’d with love, Runs o’er in melancholy. To streams
+that glide in noon, the shade From summer skies is given; So, if my
+breast reflects the cloud, ‘Tis but the cloud of heaven! Thine image
+glass’d within my soul So well the mirror keepeth; That, chide me not,
+if with the light The shadow also sleepeth.
+
+“And now,” said Adrian, as he concluded, “the lute is to you: I but
+preclude your prize.”
+
+The Provencal laughed, and shook his head.--“With any other umpire, I
+had had my lute broken on my own head, for my conceit in provoking such
+a rival; but I must not shrink from a contest I have myself provoked,
+even though in one day twice defeated.” And with that, in a deep and
+exquisitely melodious voice, which wanted only more scientific culture
+to have challenged any competition, the Knight of St. John poured forth:
+
+The Lay of the Troubadour.
+
+     1.
+
+     Gentle river, the moonbeam is hush’d on thy tide,
+     On thy pathway of light to my lady I glide.
+     My boat, where the stream laves the castle, I moor,--
+     All at rest save the maid and her young Troubadour!
+     As the stars to the waters that bore
+     My bark, to my spirit thou art;
+     Heaving yet, see it bound to the shore,
+     So moor’d to thy beauty my heart,--
+     Bel’ amie, bel’ amie, bel’ amie!
+
+     2.
+
+     Wilt thou fly from the world?  It hath wealth for the vain;
+     But Love breaks his bond when there’s gold in the chain;
+     Wilt thou fly from the world?  It hath courts for the proud;--
+     But Love, born in caves, pines to death in the crowd.
+     Were this bosom thy world, dearest one,
+     Thy world could not fail to be bright;
+     For thou shouldst thyself be its sun,
+     And what spot could be dim in thy light--
+     Bel’ amie, bel’ amie, bel’ amie?
+
+     3.
+
+     The rich and the great woo thee dearest; and poor,
+     Though his fathers were princes, thy young Troubadour!
+     But his heart never quail’d save to thee, his adored,--
+     There’s no guile in his lute, and no stain on his sword.
+     Ah, I reck not what sorrows I know,
+     Could I still on thy solace confide;
+     And I care not, though earth be my foe,
+     If thy soft heart be found by my side,--
+     Bel’ amie, bel’ amie, bel’ amie!
+
+     4.
+
+     The maiden she blush’d, and the maiden she sighed,
+     Not a cloud in the sky, not a gale on the tide;
+     But though tempest had raged on the wave and the wind,
+     That castle, methinks, had been still left behind!
+     Sweet lily, though bow’d by the blast,
+     (To this bosom transplanted) since then,
+     Wouldst thou change, could we call the past,
+     To the rock from thy garden again--
+     Bel’ amie, bel’ amie, bel’ amie?
+
+Thus they alternated the time with converse and song, as the wooded
+hills threw their sharp, long shadows over the sea; while from many a
+mound of waking flowers, and many a copse of citron and orange, relieved
+by the dark and solemn aloe, stole the summer breeze, laden with mingled
+odours; and, over the seas, coloured by the slow-fading hues of purple
+and rose, that the sun had long bequeathed to the twilight, flitted the
+gay fireflies that sparkle along that enchanted coast. At length, the
+moon slowly rose above the dark forest-steeps, gleaming on the gay
+pavilion and glittering pennon of Montreal,--on the verdant sward,--the
+polished mail of the soldiers, stretched on the grass in various groups,
+half-shaded by oaks and cypress, and the war-steeds grazing peaceably
+together--a wild mixture of the Pastoral and the Iron time.
+
+Adrian, reluctantly reminded of his journey, rose to depart.
+
+“I fear,” said he to Adeline, “that I have already detained you too late
+in the night air: but selfishness is little considerate.”
+
+“Nay, you see we are prudent,” said Adeline, pointing to Montreal’s
+mantle, which his provident hand had long since drawn around her form;
+“but if you must part, farewell, and success attend you!”
+
+“We may meet again, I trust,” said Adrian.
+
+Adeline sighed gently; and the Colonna, gazing on her face by the
+moonlight, to which it was slightly raised, was painfully struck by its
+almost transparent delicacy. Moved by his compassion, ere he mounted
+his steed, he drew Montreal aside,--“Forgive me if I seem presumptuous,”
+ said he; “but to one so noble this wild life is scarce a fitting career.
+I know that, in our time, War consecrates all his children; but surely
+a settled rank in the court of the Emperor, or an honourable
+reconciliation with your knightly brethren, were better--”
+
+“Than a Tartar camp, and a brigand’s castle,” interrupted Montreal, with
+some impatience. “This you were about to say--you are mistaken. Society
+thrust me from her bosom; let society take the fruit it hath sown. ‘A
+fixed rank,’ say you? some subaltern office, to fight at other men’s
+command! You know me not: Walter de Montreal was not formed to obey.
+War when I will, and rest when I list, is the motto of my escutcheon.
+Ambition proffers me rewards you wot not of; and I am of the mould as
+of the race of those whose swords have conquered thrones. For the rest,
+your news of the alliance of Louis of Hungary with your Tribune makes it
+necessary for the friend of Louis to withdraw from all feud with Rome.
+Ere the week expire, the owl and the bat may seek refuge in yon grey
+turrets.”
+
+“But your lady?”
+
+“Is inured to change.--God help her, and temper the rough wind to the
+lamb!”
+
+“Enough, Sir Knight: but should you desire a sure refuge at Rome for one
+so gentle and so highborn, by the right hand of a knight, I promise a
+safe roof and an honoured home to the Lady Adeline.”
+
+Montreal pressed the offered hand to his heart; then plucking his own
+hastily away, drew it across his eyes, and joined Adeline, in a silence
+that showed he dared not trust himself to speak. In a few moments Adrian
+and his train were on the march; but still the young Colonna turned
+back, to gaze once more on his wild host and that lovely lady, as
+they themselves lingered on the moonlit sward, while the sea rippled
+mournfully on their ears.
+
+It was not many months after that date, that the name of Fra Monreale
+scattered terror and dismay throughout the fair Campania. The right
+hand of the Hungarian king, in his invasion of Naples, he was chosen
+afterwards vicar (or vice-gerent) of Louis in Aversa; and fame and fate
+seemed to lead him triumphantly along that ambitious career which he had
+elected, whether bounded by the scaffold or the throne.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK IV. THE TRIUMPH AND THE POMP.
+
+     “Allora fama e paura di si buono reggimento, passa in ogni
+     terra.”--“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. i. cap. 21.
+
+     “Then the fame and the fear of that so good government
+     passed into every land.”--“Life of Cola di Rienzi”.
+
+
+
+Chapter 4.I. The Boy Angelo--the Dream of Nina Fulfilled.
+
+The thread of my story transports us back to Rome. It was in a small
+chamber, in a ruinous mansion by the base of Mount Aventine, that a
+young boy sate, one evening, with a woman of a tall and stately form,
+but somewhat bowed both by infirmity and years. The boy was of a fair
+and comely presence; and there was that in his bold, frank, undaunted
+carriage, which made him appear older than he was.
+
+The old woman, seated in the recess of the deep window, was apparently
+occupied with a Bible that lay open on her knees; but ever and anon she
+lifted her eyes, and gazed on her young companion with a sad and anxious
+expression.
+
+“Dame,” said the boy, who was busily employed in hewing out a sword of
+wood, “I would you had seen the show today. Why, every day is a show
+at Rome now! It is show enough to see the Tribune himself on his white
+steed--(oh, it is so beautiful!)--with his white robes all studded with
+jewels. But today, as I have just been telling you, the Lady Nina took
+notice of me, as I stood on the stairs of the Capitol: you know, dame, I
+had donned my best blue velvet doublet.”
+
+“And she called you a fair boy, and asked if you would be her little
+page; and this has turned thy brain, silly urchin that thou art--”
+
+“But the words are the least: if you saw the Lady Nina, you would own
+that a smile from her might turn the wisest head in Italy. Oh, how I
+should like to serve the Tribune! All the lads of my age are mad for
+him. How they will stare, and envy me at school tomorrow! You know too,
+dame, that though I was not always brought up at Rome, I am Roman. Every
+Roman loves Rienzi.”
+
+“Ay, for the hour: the cry will soon change. This vanity of thine,
+Angelo, vexes my old heart. I would thou wert humbler.”
+
+“Bastards have their own name to win,” said the boy, colouring deeply.
+“They twit me in the teeth, because I cannot say who my father and
+mother were.”
+
+“They need not,” returned the dame, hastily. “Thou comest of noble blood
+and long descent, though, as I have told thee often, I know not the
+exact names of thy parents. But what art thou shaping that tough sapling
+of oak into?”
+
+“A sword, dame, to assist the Tribune against the robbers.”
+
+“Alas! I fear me, like all those who seek power in Italy, he is more
+likely to enlist robbers than to assail them.”
+
+“Why, la you there, you live so shut up, that you know and hear nothing,
+or you would have learned that even that fiercest of all the robbers,
+Fra Moreale, has at length yielded to the Tribune, and fled from his
+castle, like a rat from a falling house.”
+
+“How, how!” cried the dame; “what say you? Has this plebeian, whom you
+call the Tribune--has he boldly thrown the gage to that dread warrior?
+and has Montreal left the Roman territory?”
+
+“Ay, it is the talk of the town. But Fra Moreale seems as much a bugbear
+to you as to e’er a mother in Rome. Did he ever wrong you, dame?”
+
+“Yes!” exclaimed the old woman, with so abrupt a fierceness, that even
+that hardy boy was startled.
+
+“I wish I could meet him, then,” said he, after a pause, as he
+flourished his mimic weapon.
+
+“Now Heaven forbid! He is a man ever to be shunned by thee, whether for
+peace or war. Say again this good Tribune holds no terms with the Free
+Lances.”
+
+“Say it again--why all Rome knows it.”
+
+“He is pious, too, I have heard; and they do bruit it that he sees
+visions, and is comforted from above,” said the woman, speaking to
+herself. Then turning to Angelo, she continued,--“Thou wouldst like
+greatly to accept the Lady Nina’s proffer?”
+
+“Ah, that I should, dame, if you could spare me.”
+
+“Child,” replied the matron, solemnly, “my sand is nearly run, and my
+wish is to see thee placed with one who will nurture thy young years,
+and save thee from a life of licence. That done, I may fulfil my vow,
+and devote the desolate remnant of my years to God. I will think more
+of this, my child. Not under such a plebeian’s roof shouldst thou have
+lodged, nor from a stranger’s board been fed: but at Rome, my last
+relative worthy of the trust is dead;--and at the worst, obscure honesty
+is better than gaudy crime. Thy spirit troubles me already. Back, my
+child; I must to my closet, and watch and pray.”
+
+Thus saying, the old woman, repelling the advance, and silencing the
+muttered and confused words, of the boy--half affectionate as they were,
+yet half tetchy and wayward--glided from the chamber.
+
+The boy looked abstractedly at the closing door, and then said to
+himself--“The dame is always talking riddles: I wonder if she know more
+of me than she tells, or if she is any way akin to me. I hope not, for
+I don’t love her much; nor, for that matter, anything else. I wish she
+would place me with the Tribune’s lady, and then we’ll see who among the
+lads will call Angelo Villani bastard.”
+
+With that the boy fell to work again at his sword with redoubled vigour.
+In fact, the cold manner of this female, his sole nurse, companion,
+substitute for parent, had repelled his affections without subduing his
+temper; and though not originally of evil disposition, Angelo Villani
+was already insolent, cunning, and revengeful; but not, on the other
+hand, without a quick susceptibility to kindness as to affront, a
+natural acuteness of understanding, and a great indifference to fear.
+Brought up in quiet affluence rather than luxury, and living much with
+his protector, whom he knew but by the name of Ursula, his bearing was
+graceful, and his air that of the well-born. And it was his carriage,
+perhaps, rather than his countenance, which, though handsome, was more
+distinguished for intelligence than beauty, which had attracted the
+notice of the Tribune’s bride. His education was that of one reared for
+some scholastic profession. He was not only taught to read and write,
+but had been even instructed in the rudiments of Latin. He did not,
+however, incline to these studies half so fondly as to the games of his
+companions, or the shows or riots in the street, into all of which
+he managed to thrust himself, and from which he had always the happy
+dexterity to return safe and unscathed.
+
+The next morning Ursula entered the young Angelo’s chamber. “Wear again
+thy blue doublet today,” said she; “I would have thee look thy best.
+Thou shalt go with me to the palace.”
+
+“What, today?” cried the boy joyfully, half leaping from his bed.
+“Dear dame Ursula, shall I really then belong to the train of the great
+Tribune’s lady?”
+
+“Yes; and leave the old woman to die alone! Your joy becomes you,--but
+ingratitude is in your blood. Ingratitude! Oh, it has burned my heart
+into ashes--and yours, boy, can no longer find a fuel in the dry
+crumbling cinders.”
+
+“Dear dame, you are always so biting. You know you said you wished to
+retire into a convent, and I was too troublesome a charge for you. But
+you delight in rebuking me, justly or unjustly.”
+
+“My task is over,” said Ursula, with a deep-drawn sigh.
+
+The boy answered not; and the old woman retired with a heavy step,
+and, it may be, a heavier heart. When he joined her in their common
+apartment, he observed what his joy had previously blinded him to--that
+Ursula did not wear her usual plain and sober dress. The gold chain,
+rarely assumed then by women not of noble birth--though, in the
+other sex, affected also by public functionaries and wealthy
+merchants--glittered upon a robe of the rich flowered stuffs of Venice,
+and the clasps that confined the vest at the throat and waist were
+adorned with jewels of no common price.
+
+Angelo’s eye was struck by the change, but he felt a more manly pride in
+remarking that the old lady became it well. Her air and mien were indeed
+those of one to whom such garments were habitual; and they seemed that
+day more than usually austere and stately.
+
+She smoothed the boy’s ringlets, drew his short mantle more gracefully
+over his shoulder, and then placed in his belt a poniard whose handle
+was richly studded, and a purse well filled with florins.
+
+“Learn to use both discreetly,” said she; “and, whether I live or die,
+you will never require to wield the poniard to procure the gold.”
+
+“This, then,” cried Angelo, enchanted, “is a real poniard to fight the
+robbers with! Ah, with this I should not fear Fra Moreale, who wronged
+thee so. I trust I may yet avenge thee, though thou didst rate me so
+just now for ingratitude.”
+
+“I am avenged. Nourish not such thoughts, my son, they are sinful;
+at least I fear so. Draw to the board and eat; we will go betimes, as
+petitioners should do.”
+
+Angelo had soon finished his morning meal, and sallying with Ursula to
+the porch, he saw, to his surprise, four of those servitors who then
+usually attended persons of distinction, and who were to be hired in
+every city, for the convenience of strangers or the holyday ostentation
+of the gayer citizens.
+
+“How grand we are today!” said he, clapping his hands with an eagerness
+which Ursula failed not to reprove.
+
+“It is not for vain show,” she added, “which true nobility can well
+dispense with, but that we may the more readily gain admittance to the
+palace. These princes of yesterday are not easy of audience to the over
+humble.”
+
+“Oh! but you are wrong this time,” said the boy. “The Tribune gives
+audience to all men, the poorest as the richest. Nay, there is not a
+ragged boor, or a bare-footed friar, who does not win access to him
+sooner than the proudest baron. That’s why the people love him so.
+And he devotes one day of the week to receiving the widows and the
+orphans;--and you know, dame, I am an orphan.”
+
+Ursula, already occupied with her own thoughts, did not answer, and
+scarcely heard, the boy; but leaning on his young arm, and preceded by
+the footmen to clear the way, passed slowly towards the palace of the
+Capitol.
+
+A wonderful thing would it have been to a more observant eye, to note
+the change which two or three short months of the stern but salutary
+and wise rule of the Tribune had effected in the streets of Rome. You
+no longer beheld the gaunt and mail-clad forms of foreign mercenaries
+stalking through the vistas, or grouped in lazy insolence before
+the embattled porches of some gloomy palace. The shops, that in many
+quarters had been closed for years, were again open, glittering with
+wares and bustling with trade. The thoroughfares, formerly either silent
+as death, or crossed by some affrighted and solitary passenger with
+quick steps, and eyes that searched every corner,--or resounding with
+the roar of a pauper rabble, or the open feuds of savage nobles, now
+exhibited the regular, and wholesome, and mingled streams of civilized
+life, whether bound to pleasure or to commerce. Carts and waggons laden
+with goods which had passed in safety by the dismantled holds of the
+robbers of the Campagna, rattled cheerfully over the pathways. “Never,
+perhaps,”--to use the translation adapted from the Italian authorities,
+by a modern and by no means a partial historian (Gibbon.)--“Never,
+perhaps, has the energy and effect of a single mind been more remarkably
+felt than in the sudden reformation of Rome by the Tribune Rienzi. A
+den of robbers was converted to the discipline of a camp or convent. ‘In
+this time,’ says the historian, (“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. i. c.
+9.) ‘did the woods begin to rejoice that they were no longer infested
+with robbers; the oxen began to plough; the pilgrims visited the
+sanctuaries; (Gibbon: the words in the original are “li pellegrini
+cominciaro a fere la cerca per la santuaria.”) the roads and inns
+were replenished with travellers: trade, plenty, and good faith, were
+restored in the markets; and a purse of gold might be exposed without
+danger in the midst of the highways.’”
+
+Amidst all these evidences of comfort and security to the people--some
+dark and discontented countenances might be seen mingled in the crowd,
+and whenever one who wore the livery of the Colonna or the Orsini felt
+himself jostled by the throng, a fierce hand moved involuntarily to the
+sword-belt, and a half-suppressed oath was ended with an indignant
+sigh. Here and there too,--contrasting the redecorated, refurnished, and
+smiling shops--heaps of rubbish before the gate of some haughty mansion
+testified the abasement of fortifications which the owner impotently
+resented as a sacrilege. Through such streets and such throngs did the
+party we accompany wend their way, till they found themselves amidst
+crowds assembled before the entrance of the Capitol. The officers there
+stationed kept, however, so discreet and dexterous an order, that they
+were not long detained; and now in the broad place or court of that
+memorable building, they saw the open doors of the great justice-hall,
+guarded but by a single sentinel, and in which, for six hours daily,
+did the Tribune hold his court, for “patient to hear, swift to redress,
+inexorable to punish, his tribunal was always accessible to the poor and
+stranger.” (Gibbon.)
+
+Not, however, to that hall did the party bend its way, but to the
+entrance which admitted to the private apartments of the palace. And
+here the pomp, the gaud, the more than regal magnificence, of the
+residence of the Tribune, strongly contrasted the patriarchal simplicity
+which marked his justice court.
+
+Even Ursula, not unaccustomed, of yore, to the luxurious state of
+Italian and French principalities, seemed roused into surprise at the
+hall crowded with retainers in costly liveries, the marble and gilded
+columns wreathed with flowers, and the gorgeous banners wrought with the
+blended arms of the Republican City and the Pontifical See, which blazed
+aloft and around.
+
+Scarce knowing whom to address in such an assemblage, Ursula was
+relieved from her perplexity by an officer attired in a suit of crimson
+and gold, who, with a grave and formal decorum, which indeed reigned
+throughout the whole retinue, demanded, respectfully, whom she sought?
+“The Signora Nina!” replied Ursula, drawing up her stately person, with
+a natural, though somewhat antiquated, dignity. There was something
+foreign in the accent, which influenced the officer’s answer.
+
+“Today, madam, I fear that the Signora receives only the Roman ladies.
+Tomorrow is that appointed for all foreign dames of distinction.”
+
+Ursula, with a slight impatience of tone, replied--“My business is of
+that nature which is welcome on any day, at palaces. I come, Signor, to
+lay certain presents at the Signora’s feet, which I trust she will deign
+to accept.”
+
+“And say, Signor,” added the boy, abruptly, “that Angelo Villani, whom
+the Lady Nina honoured yesterday with her notice, is no stranger but a
+Roman; and comes, as she bade him, to proffer to the Signora his homage
+and devotion.”
+
+The grave officer could not refrain a smile at the pert, yet not
+ungraceful, boldness of the boy.
+
+“I remember me, Master Angelo Villani,” he replied, “that the Lady
+Nina spoke to you by the great staircase. Madam, I will do your errand.
+Please to follow me to an apartment more fitting your sex and seeming.”
+
+With that the officer led the way across the hall to a broad staircase
+of white marble, along the centre of which were laid those rich Eastern
+carpets which at that day, when rushes strewed the chambers of an
+English monarch, were already common to the greater luxury of Italian
+palaces. Opening a door at the first flight, he ushered Ursula and
+her young charge into a lofty ante-chamber, hung with arras of wrought
+velvets; while over the opposite door, through which the officer now
+vanished, were blazoned the armorial bearings which the Tribune so
+constantly introduced in all his pomp, not more from the love of show,
+than from his politic desire to mingle with the keys of the Pontiff the
+heraldic insignia of the Republic.
+
+“Philip of Valois is not housed like this man!” muttered Ursula. “If
+this last, I shall have done better for my charge than I recked of.”
+
+The officer soon returned, and led them across an apartment of vast
+extent, which was indeed the great reception chamber of the palace.
+Four-and-twenty columns of the Oriental alabaster which had attested the
+spoils of the later emperors, and had been disinterred from forgotten
+ruins, to grace the palace of the Reviver of the old Republic, supported
+the light roof, which, half Gothic, half classic, in its architecture,
+was inlaid with gilded and purple mosaics. The tesselated floor was
+covered in the centre with cloth of gold, the walls were clothed, at
+intervals, with the same gorgeous hangings, relieved by panels freshly
+painted in the most glowing colours, with mystic and symbolical designs.
+At the upper end of this royal chamber, two steps ascended to the place
+of the Tribune’s throne, above which was the canopy wrought with the
+eternal armorial bearings of the Pontiff and the City.
+
+Traversing this apartment, the officer opened the door at its extremity,
+which admitted to a small chamber, crowded with pages in rich dresses of
+silver and blue velvet. There were few amongst them elder than Angelo;
+and, from their general beauty, they seemed the very flower and blossom
+of the city.
+
+Short time had Angelo to gaze on his comrades that were to be:--another
+minute, and he and his protectress were in the presence of the Tribune’s
+bride.
+
+The chamber was not large--but it was large enough to prove that the
+beautiful daughter of Raselli had realised her visions of vanity and
+splendour.
+
+It was an apartment that mocked description--it seemed a cabinet for the
+gems of the world. The daylight, shaded by high and deep-set casements
+of stained glass, streamed in a purple and mellow hue over all that the
+art of that day boasted most precious, or regal luxury held most dear.
+The candelabras of the silver workmanship of Florence; the carpets and
+stuffs of the East; the draperies of Venice and Genoa; paintings like
+the illuminated missals, wrought in gold, and those lost colours of blue
+and crimson; antique marbles, which spoke of the bright days of Athens;
+tables of disinterred mosaics, their freshness preserved as by magic;
+censers of gold that steamed with the odours of Araby, yet so subdued
+as not to deaden the healthier scent of flowers, which blushed in every
+corner from their marble and alabaster vases; a small and spirit-like
+fountain, which seemed to gush from among wreaths of roses, diffusing
+in its diamond and fairy spray, a scarce felt coolness to the air;--all
+these, and such as these, which it were vain work to detail, congregated
+in the richest luxuriance, harmonised with the most exquisite taste,
+uniting the ancient arts with the modern, amazed and intoxicated the
+sense of the beholder. It was not so much the cost, nor the luxury, that
+made the character of the chamber; it was a certain gorgeous and almost
+sublime phantasy,--so that it seemed rather the fabled retreat of
+an enchantress, at whose word genii ransacked the earth, and fairies
+arranged the produce, than the grosser splendour of an earthly queen.
+Behind the piled cushions upon which Nina half reclined, stood four
+girls, beautiful as nymphs, with fans of the rarest feathers, and at
+her feet lay one older than the rest, whose lute, though now silent,
+attested her legitimate occupation.
+
+But, had the room in itself seemed somewhat too fantastic and
+overcharged in its prodigal ornaments, the form and face of Nina would
+at once have rendered all appropriate; so completely did she seem the
+natural Spirit of the Place; so wonderfully did her beauty, elated as it
+now was with contented love, gratified vanity, exultant hope, body forth
+the brightest vision that ever floated before the eyes of Tasso, when
+he wrought into one immortal shape the glory of the Enchantress with the
+allurements of the Woman.
+
+Nina half rose as she saw Ursula, whose sedate and mournful features
+involuntarily testified her surprise and admiration at a loveliness
+so rare and striking, but who, undazzled by the splendour around, soon
+recovered her wonted self-composure, and seated herself on the cushion
+to which Nina pointed, while the young visitor remained standing, and
+spell-bound by childish wonder, in the centre of the apartment. Nina
+recognised him with a smile.
+
+“Ah, my pretty boy, whose quick eye and bold air caught my fancy
+yesterday! Have you come to accept my offer? Is it you, madam, who claim
+this fair child?”
+
+“Lady,” replied Ursula, “my business here is brief: by a train of
+events, needless to weary you with narrating, this boy from his infancy
+fell to my charge--a weighty and anxious trust to one whose thoughts
+are beyond the barrier of life. I have reared him as became a youth of
+gentle blood; for on both sides, lady, he is noble, though an orphan,
+motherless and sireless.”
+
+“Poor child!” said Nina, compassionately.
+
+“Growing now,” continued Ursula, “oppressed by years, and desirous only
+to make my peace with Heaven, I journeyed hither some months since, in
+the design to place the boy with a relation of mine; and, that trust
+fulfilled, to take the vows in the City of the Apostle. Alas! I found my
+kinsman dead, and a baron of wild and dissolute character was his heir.
+Here remaining, perplexed and anxious, it seemed to me the voice of
+Providence when, yester-evening, the child told me you had been pleased
+to honour him with your notice. Like the rest of Rome, he has already
+learned enthusiasm for the Tribune--devotion to the Tribune’s bride.
+Will you, in truth, admit him of your household? He will not dishonour
+your protection by his blood, nor, I trust, by his bearing.”
+
+“I would take his face for his guarantee, madam, even without so
+distinguished a recommendation as your own. Is he Roman? His name then
+must be known to me.”
+
+“Pardon me, lady,” replied Ursula: “He bears the name of Angelo
+Villani--not that of his sire or mother. The honour of a noble house for
+ever condemns his parentage to rest unknown. He is the offspring of a
+love unsanctioned by the church.”
+
+“He is the more to be loved, then, and to be pitied--victim of sin not
+his own!” answered Nina, with moistened eyes, as she saw the deep and
+burning blush that covered the boy’s cheeks. “With the Tribune’s reign
+commences a new era of nobility, when rank and knighthood shall be won
+by a man’s own merit--not that of his ancestors. Fear not, madam: in my
+house he shall know no slight.”
+
+Ursula was moved from her pride by the kindness of Nina: she approached
+with involuntary reverence, and kissed the Signora’s hand--
+
+“May our Lady reward your noble heart!” said she: “and now my mission is
+ended, and my earthly goal is won. Add only, lady, to your inestimable
+favours one more. These jewels”--and Ursula drew from her robe a casket,
+touched the spring, and the lid flying back, discovered jewels of great
+size and the most brilliant water,--“these jewels,” she continued,
+laying the casket at Nina’s feet, “once belonging to the princely house
+of Thoulouse, are valueless to me and mine. Suffer me to think that they
+are transferred to one whose queenly brow will give them a lustre it
+cannot borrow.”
+
+“How!” said Nina, colouring very deeply; “think you, madam, my kindness
+can be bought? What woman’s kindness ever was? Nay, nay--take back the
+gifts, or I shall pray you to take back your boy.”
+
+Ursula was astonished and confounded: to her experience such abstinence
+was a novelty, and she scarcely knew how to meet it. Nina perceived her
+embarrassment with a haughty and triumphant smile, and then, regaining
+her former courtesy of demeanour, said, with a grave sweetness--
+
+“The Tribune’s hands are clean,--the Tribune’s wife must not be
+suspected. Rather, madam, should I press upon you some token of exchange
+for the fair charge you have committed to me. Your jewels hereafter may
+profit the boy in his career: reserve them for one who needs them.”
+
+“No, lady,” said Ursula, rising and lifting her eyes to heaven;--“they
+shall buy masses for his mother’s soul; for him I shall reserve a
+competence when his years require it. Lady, accept the thanks of a
+wretched and desolate heart. Fare you well!”
+
+She turned to quit the room, but with so faltering and weak a step, that
+Nina, touched and affected, sprung up, and with her own hand guided
+the old woman across the room, whispering comfort and soothing to her;
+while, as they reached the door, the boy rushed forward, and, clasping
+Ursula’s robe, sobbed out--“Dear dame, not one farewell for your little
+Angelo! Forgive him all he has cost you! Now, for the first time, I feel
+how wayward and thankless I have been.”
+
+The old woman caught him in her arms, and kissed him passionately; when
+the boy, as if a thought suddenly struck him, drew forth the purse she
+had given him and said, in a choked and scarce articulate voice,--“And
+let this, dearest dame, go in masses for my poor father’s soul; for he
+is dead, too, you know!”
+
+These words seemed to freeze at once all the tenderer emotions of
+Ursula. She put back the boy with the same chilling and stern severity
+of aspect and manner which had so often before repressed him: and
+recovering her self-possession, at once quitted the apartment without
+saying another word. Nina, surprised, but still pitying her sorrow and
+respecting her age, followed her steps across the pages’ ante-room and
+the reception-chamber, even to the foot of the stairs,--a condescension
+the haughtiest princess of Rome could not have won from her; and
+returning, saddened and thoughtful, she took the boy’s hand, and
+affectionately kissed his forehead.
+
+“Poor boy!” she said, “it seems as if Providence had made me select thee
+yesterday from the crowd, and thus conducted thee to thy proper refuge.
+For to whom should come the friendless and the orphans of Rome, but to
+the palace of Rome’s first Magistrate?” Turning then to her attendants,
+she gave them instructions as to the personal comforts of her new
+charge, which evinced that if power had ministered to her vanity, it had
+not steeled her heart. Angelo Villani lived to repay her well!
+
+She retained the boy in her presence, and conversing with him
+familiarly, she was more and more pleased with his bold spirit and frank
+manner. Their conversation was however interrupted, as the day advanced,
+by the arrival of several ladies of the Roman nobility. And then it was
+that Nina’s virtues receded into shade, and her faults appeared. She
+could not resist the woman’s triumph over those arrogant signoras who
+now cringed in homage where they had once slighted with disdain. She
+affected the manner of, she demanded the respect due to, a queen. And by
+many of those dexterous arts which the sex know so well, she contrived
+to render her very courtesy a humiliation to her haughty guests. Her
+commanding beauty and her graceful intellect saved her, indeed, from the
+vulgar insolence of the upstart; but yet more keenly stung the pride, by
+forbidding to those she mortified the retaliation of contempt. Hers
+were the covert taunt--the smiling affront--the sarcasm in the mask of
+compliment--the careless exaction of respect in trifles, which could not
+outwardly be resented, but which could not inly be forgiven.
+
+“Fair day to the Signora Colonna,” said she to the proud wife of the
+proud Stephen; “we passed your palace yesterday. How fair it now seems,
+relieved from those gloomy battlements which it must often have saddened
+you to gaze upon. Signora, (turning to one of the Orsini), your lord
+has high favour with the Tribune, who destines him to great command.
+His fortunes are secured, and we rejoice at it; for no man more loyally
+serves the state. Have you seen, fair Lady of Frangipani, the last
+verses of Petrarch in honour of my lord?--they rest yonder. May we so
+far venture as to request you to point out their beauties to the Signora
+di Savelli? We rejoice, noble Lady of Malatesta, to observe that your
+eyesight is so well restored. The last time we met, though we stood
+next to you in the revels of the Lady Giulia, you seemed scarce to
+distinguish us from the pillar by which we stood!”
+
+“Must this insolence be endured!” whispered the Signora Frangipani to
+the Signora Malatesta.
+
+“Hush, hush; if ever it be our day again!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 4.II. The Blessing of A Councillor Whose Interests and Heart Are
+Our Own.--the Straws Thrown Upward,--Do They Portend A Storm.
+
+It was later that day than usual, when Rienzi returned from his tribunal
+to the apartments of the palace. As he traversed the reception hall, his
+countenance was much flushed; his teeth were set firmly, like a man who
+has taken a strong resolution from which he will not be moved; and his
+brow was dark with that settled and fearful frown which the
+describers of his personal appearance have not failed to notice as the
+characteristic of an anger the more deadly because invariably just.
+Close as his heels followed the Bishop of Orvietto and the aged Stephen
+Colonna. “I tell you, my Lords,” said Rienzi, “that ye plead in vain.
+Rome knows no distinction between ranks. The law is blind to the
+agent--lynx-eyed to the deed.”
+
+“Yet,” said Raimond, hesitatingly, “bethink thee, Tribune; the nephew of
+two cardinals, and himself once a senator.”
+
+Rienzi halted abruptly, and faced his companions. “My Lord Bishop,” said
+he, “does not this make the crime more inexcusable? Look you, thus it
+reads:--A vessel from Avignon to Naples, charged with the revenues of
+Provence to Queen Joanna, on whose cause, mark you, we now hold solemn
+council, is wrecked at the mouth of the Tiber; with that, Martino
+di Porto--a noble, as you say--the holder of that fortress whence
+he derives his title,--doubly bound by gentle blood and by immediate
+neighbourhood to succour the oppressed--falls upon the vessel with his
+troops (what hath the rebel with armed troops?)--and pillages the
+vessel like a common robber. He is apprehended--brought to my
+tribunal--receives fair trial--is condemned to die. Such is the
+law;--what more would ye have?”
+
+“Mercy,” said the Colonna.
+
+Rienzi folded his arms, and laughed disdainfully. “I never heard my Lord
+Colonna plead for mercy when a peasant had stolen the bread that was to
+feed his famishing children.”
+
+“Between a peasant and a prince, Tribune, I, for one, recognise a
+distinction:--the bright blood of an Orsini is not to be shed like that
+of a base plebeian--”
+
+“Which, I remember me,” said Rienzi, in a low voice, “you deemed small
+matter enough when my boy-brother fell beneath the wanton spear of your
+proud son. Wake not that memory, I warn you; let it sleep.--For shame,
+old Colonna--for shame; so near the grave, where the worm levels
+all flesh, and preaching, with those gray hairs, the uncharitable
+distinction between man and man. Is there not distinction enough at the
+best? Does not one wear purple, and the other rags? Hath not one ease,
+and the other toil? Doth not the one banquet while the other starves?
+Do I nourish any mad scheme to level the ranks which society renders
+a necessary evil? No. I war no more with Dives than with Lazarus. But
+before Man’s judgment-seat, as before God’s, Lazarus and Dives are made
+equal. No more.”
+
+Colonna drew his robe round him with great haughtiness, and bit his lip
+in silence. Raimond interposed.
+
+“All this is true, Tribune. But,” and he drew Rienzi aside, “you know
+we must be politic as well as just. Nephew to two Cardinals, what enmity
+will not this provoke at Avignon?”
+
+“Vex not yourself, holy Raimond, I will answer it to the Pontiff.” While
+they spoke the bell tolled heavily and loudly.
+
+Colonna started.
+
+“Great Tribune,” said he, with a slight sneer, “deign to pause ere it be
+too late. I know not that I ever before bent to you a suppliant; and I
+ask you now to spare mine own foe. Stephen Colonna prays Cola di Rienzi
+to spare the life of an Orsini.”
+
+“I understand thy taunt, old Lord,” said Rienzi, calmly, “but I resent
+it not. You are foe to the Orsini, yet you plead for him--it sounds
+generous; but hark you,--you are more a friend to your order than a foe
+to your rival. You cannot bear that one, great enough to have contended
+with you, should perish like a thief. I give full praise to such noble
+forgiveness; but I am no noble, and I do not sympathize with it. One
+word more;--if this were the sole act of fraud and violence that this
+bandit baron had committed, your prayers should plead for him; but is
+not his life notorious? Has he not been from boyhood the terror and
+disgrace of Rome? How many matrons violated, merchants pillaged,
+peaceful men stilettoed in the daylight, rise in dark witness against
+the prisoner? And for such a man do I live to hear an aged prince and a
+pope’s vicar plead for mercy?--Fie, fie! But I will be even with ye.
+The next poor man whom the law sentences to death, for your sake will I
+pardon.”
+
+Raimond again drew aside the Tribune, while Colonna struggled to
+suppress his rage.
+
+“My friend,” said the Bishop, “the nobles will feel this as an insult to
+their whole order; the very pleading of Orsini’s worst foe must convince
+thee of this. Martino’s blood will seal their reconciliation with each
+other, and they will be as one man against thee.”
+
+“Be it so: with God and the People on my side, I will dare, though
+a Roman, to be just. The bell ceases--you are already too late.” So
+saying, Rienzi threw open the casement; and by the staircase of the Lion
+rose a gibbet from which swung with a creaking sound, arrayed in his
+patrician robes, the yet palpitating corpse of Martino di Porto.
+
+“Behold!” said the Tribune, sternly, “thus die all robbers. For
+traitors, the same law has the axe and the scaffold!”
+
+Raimond drew back and turned pale. Not so the veteran noble. Tears
+of wounded pride started from his eyes; he approached, leaning on his
+staff, to Rienzi, touched him on his shoulder, and said,--
+
+“Tribune, a judge has lived to envy his victim!”
+
+Rienzi turned with an equal pride to the Baron.
+
+“We forgive idle words in the aged. My Lord, have you done with us?--we
+would be alone.”
+
+“Give me thy arm, Raimond,” said Stephen. “Tribune--farewell. Forget
+that the Colonna sued thee,--an easy task, methinks; for, wise as you
+are, you forget what every one else can remember.”
+
+“Ay, my Lord, what?”
+
+“Birth, Tribune, birth--that’s all!”
+
+“The Signor Colonna has taken up my old calling, and turned a wit,”
+ returned Rienzi, with an indifferent and easy tone.
+
+Then following Raimond and Stephen with his eyes, till the door closed
+upon them, he muttered, “Insolent! were it not for Adrian, thy grey
+beard should not bear thee harmless. Birth! what Colonna would not boast
+himself, if he could, the grandson of an emperor?--Old man, there is
+danger in thee which must be watched.” With that he turned musingly
+towards the casement, and again that griesly spectacle of death met his
+eye. The people below, assembled in large concourse, rejoiced at the
+execution of one whose whole life had been infamy and rapine--but who
+had seemed beyond justice--with all the fierce clamour that marks the
+exultation of the rabble over a crushed foe. And where Rienzi stood,
+he heard heir shouts of “Long live the Tribune, the just judge, Rome’s
+liberator!” But at that time other thoughts deafened his senses to the
+popular enthusiasm.
+
+“My poor brother!” he said, with tears in his eyes, “it was owing to
+this man’s crimes--and to a crime almost similar to that for which he
+has now suffered--that thou wert entrained to the slaughter; and they
+who had no pity for the lamb, clamour for compassion to the wolf! Ah,
+wert thou living now, how these proud heads would bend to thee; though
+dead, thou wert not worthy of a thought. God rest thy gentle soul, and
+keep my ambition pure as it was when we walked at twilight, side by side
+together!”
+
+The Tribune shut the casement, and turning away, sought the chamber of
+Nina. On hearing his step without, she had already risen from the couch,
+her eyes sparkling, her bosom heaving; and as he entered, she threw
+herself on his neck, and murmured as she nestled to his breast,--“Ah,
+the hours since we parted!”
+
+It was a singular thing to see that proud lady, proud of her beauty, her
+station, her new honours;--whose gorgeous vanity was already the talk
+of Rome, and the reproach to Rienzi,--how suddenly and miraculously she
+seemed changed in his presence! Blushing and timid, all pride in herself
+seemed merged in her proud love for him. No woman ever loved to the full
+extent of the passion, who did not venerate where she loved, and who
+did not feel humbled (delighted in that humility) by her exaggerated and
+overweening estimate of the superiority of the object of her worship.
+
+And it might be the consciousness of this distinction between himself
+and all other created things, which continued to increase the love of
+the Tribune to his bride, to blind him to her failings towards others,
+and to indulge her in a magnificence of parade, which, though to a
+certain point politic to assume, was carried to an extent which if it
+did not conspire to produce his downfall, has served the Romans with
+an excuse for their own cowardice and desertion, and historians with
+a plausible explanation of causes they had not the industry to fathom.
+Rienzi returned his wife’s caresses with an equal affection, and bending
+down to her beautiful face, the sight was sufficient to chase from his
+brow the emotions, whether severe or sad, which had lately darkened its
+broad expanse.
+
+“Thou has not been abroad this morning, Nina!”
+
+“No, the heat was oppressive. But nevertheless, Cola, I have not lacked
+company--half the matronage of Rome has crowded the palace.”
+
+“Ah, I warrant it.--But yon boy, is he not a new face?”
+
+“Hush, Cola, speak to him kindly, I entreat: of his story anon. Angelo,
+approach. You see your new master, the Tribune of Rome.”
+
+Angelo approached with a timidity not his wont, for an air of majesty
+was at all times natural to Rienzi, and since his power it had naturally
+taken a graver and austerer aspect, which impressed those who approached
+him, even the ambassadors of princes, with a certain involuntary awe.
+The Tribune smiled at the effect he saw he had produced, and being by
+temper fond of children, and affable to all but the great, he hastened
+to dispel it. He took the child affectionately in his arms, kissed him,
+and bade him welcome.
+
+“May we have a son as fair!” he whispered to Nina, who blushed, and
+turned away.
+
+“Thy name, my little friend?”
+
+“Angelo Villani.”
+
+“A Tuscan name. There is a man of letters at Florence, doubtless writing
+our annals from hearsay at this moment, called Villani. Perhaps akin to
+thee?”
+
+“I have no kin,” said the boy, bluntly; “and therefore I shall the
+better love the Signora and honour you, if you will let me. I am
+Roman--all the Roman boys honour Rienzi.”
+
+“Do they, my brave lad?” said the Tribune, colouring with pleasure;
+“that is a good omen of my continued prosperity.” He put down the boy,
+and threw himself on the cushions, while Nina placed herself on a kind
+of low stool beside him.
+
+“Let us be alone,” said he; and Nina motioned to the attendant maidens
+to withdraw.
+
+“Take my new page with you,” said she; “he is yet, perhaps, too fresh
+from home to enjoy the company of his giddy brethren.”
+
+When they were alone, Nina proceeded to narrate to Rienzi the adventure
+of the morning; but though he seemed outwardly to listen, his gaze
+was on vacancy, and he was evidently abstracted and self-absorbed. At
+length, as she concluded, he said, “Well, Nina, you have acted as ever,
+kindly and nobly. Let us to other themes. I am in danger.”
+
+“Danger!” echoed Nina, turning pale.
+
+“Why, the word must not appal you--you have a spirit like mine, that
+scorns fear; and, for that reason, Nina, in all Rome you are my only
+confidant. It was not only to glad me with thy beauty, but to cheer me
+with thy counsel, to support me with thy valour, that Heaven gave me
+thee as a helpmate.”
+
+“Now, our Lady bless thee for those words!” said Nina, kissing the hand
+that hung over her shoulder; “and if I started at the word danger, it
+was but the woman’s thought of thee,--an unworthy thought, my Cola, for
+glory and danger go together. And I am as ready to share the last as the
+first. If the hour of trial ever come, none of thy friends shall be so
+faithful to thy side as this weak form but undaunted heart.”
+
+“I know it, my own Nina; I know it,” said Rienzi, rising, and pacing the
+chamber with large and rapid strides. “Now listen to me. Thou knowest
+that to govern in safety, it is my policy as my pride to govern justly.
+To govern justly is an awful thing, when mighty barons are the culprits.
+Nina, for an open and audacious robbery, our court has sentenced Martin
+of the Orsini, the Lord of Porto, to death. His corpse swings now on the
+Staircase of the Lion.”
+
+“A dreadful doom!” said Nina, shuddering.
+
+“True; but by his death thousands of poor and honest men may live in
+peace. It is not that which troubles me: the Barons resent the deed, as
+an insult to them that law should touch a noble. They will rise--they
+will rebel. I foresee the storm--not the spell to allay it.”
+
+Nina paused a moment,--“They have taken,” she then said, “a solemn oath
+on the Eucharist not to bear arms against thee.”
+
+“Perjury is a light addition to theft and murder,” answered Rienzi, with
+his sarcastic smile.
+
+“But the people are faithful.”
+
+“Yes, but in a civil war (which the saints forefend!) those combatants
+are the stanchest who have no home but their armour, no calling but the
+sword. The trader will not leave his trade at the toll of a bell every
+day; but the Barons’ soldiery are ready at all hours.”
+
+“To be strong,” said Nina,--who, summoned to the councils of her lord,
+shewed an intellect not unworthy of the honour,--“to be strong in
+dangerous times, authority must seem strong. By shewing no fear, you may
+prevent the cause of fear.”
+
+“My own thought!” returned Rienzi, quickly. “You know that half my power
+with these Barons is drawn from the homage rendered to me by foreign
+states. When from every city in Italy the ambassadors of crowned princes
+seek the alliance of the Tribune, they must veil their resentment at the
+rise of the Plebeian. On the other hand, to be strong abroad I must seem
+strong at home: the vast design I have planned, and, as by a miracle,
+begun to execute, will fail at once if it seem abroad to be intrusted
+to an unsteady and fluctuating power. That design (continued Rienzi,
+pausing, and placing his hand on a marble bust of the young Augustus)
+is greater than his, whose profound yet icy soul united Italy in
+subjection,--for it would unite Italy in freedom;--yes! could we but
+form one great federative league of all the States of Italy, each
+governed by its own laws, but united for mutual and common protection
+against the Attilas of the North, with Rome for their Metropolis and
+their Mother, this age and this brain would have wrought an enterprise
+which men should quote till the sound of the last trump!”
+
+“I know thy divine scheme,” said Nina, catching his enthusiasm; “and
+what if there be danger in attaining it? Have we not mastered the
+greatest danger in the first step?”
+
+“Right, Nina, right! Heaven (and the Tribune, who ever recognised,
+in his own fortunes, the agency of the hand above, crossed himself
+reverently) will preserve him to whom it hath vouchsafed such lofty
+visions of the future redemption of the Land of the true Church, and the
+liberty and advancement of its children! This I trust: already many of
+the cities of Tuscany have entered into treaties for the formation
+of this league; nor from a single tyrant, save John di Vico, have I
+received aught but fair words and flattering promises. The time seems
+ripe for the grand stroke of all.”
+
+“And what is that?” demanded Nina, wonderingly.
+
+“Defiance to all foreign interference. By what right does a synod of
+stranger princes give Rome a king in some Teuton Emperor? Rome’s people
+alone should choose Rome’s governor;--and shall we cross the Alps to
+render the title of our master to the descendants of the Goth?”
+
+Nina was silent: the custom of choosing the sovereign by a diet beyond
+the Rhine, reserving only the ceremony of his subsequent coronation for
+the mock assent of the Romans, however degrading to that people, and
+however hostile to all nations of substantial independence, was so
+unquestioned at that time, that Rienzi’s daring suggestion left her
+amazed and breathless, prepared as she was for any scheme, however
+extravagantly bold.
+
+“How!” said she, after a long pause; “do I understand aright? Can you
+mean defiance to the Emperor?”
+
+“Why, listen: at this moment there are two pretenders to the throne
+of Rome--to the imperial crown of Italy--a Bohemian and a Bavarian. To
+their election our assent--Rome’s assent--is not requisite--not asked.
+Can we be called free--can we boast ourselves republican--when a
+stranger and a barbarian is thus thrust upon our necks? No, we will be
+free in reality as in name. Besides, (continued the Tribune, in a
+calmer tone,) this seems to me politic as well as daring. The people
+incessantly demand wonders from me: how can I more nobly dazzle, more
+virtuously win them, than by asserting their inalienable right to
+choose their own rulers? The daring will awe the Barons, and foreigners
+themselves; it will give a startling example to all Italy; it will be
+the first brand of an universal blaze. It shall be done, and with a pomp
+that befits the deed!”
+
+“Cola,” said Nina, hesitatingly, “your eagle spirit often ascends where
+mine flags to follow; yet be not over bold.”
+
+“Nay, did you not, a moment since, preach a different doctrine? To be
+strong, was I not to seem strong?”
+
+“May fate preserve you!” said Nina, with a foreboding sigh.
+
+“Fate!” cried Rienzi; “there is no fate! Between the thought and the
+success, God is the only agent; and (he added with a voice of deep
+solemnity) I shall not be deserted. Visions by night, even while thine
+arms are around me; omens and impulses, stirring and divine, by day,
+even in the midst of the living crowd--encourage my path, and point my
+goal. Now, even now, a voice seems to whisper in my ear--‘Pause not;
+tremble not; waver not;--for the eye of the All-Seeing is upon thee, and
+the hand of the All-Powerful shall protect!”
+
+As Rienzi thus spoke, his face grew pale, his hair seemed to bristle,
+his tall and proud form trembled visibly, and presently he sunk down on
+a seat, and covered his face with his hands.
+
+An awe crept over Nina, though not unaccustomed to such strange and
+preternatural emotions, which appeared yet the more singular in one who
+in common life was so calm, stately, and self-possessed. But with every
+increase of prosperity and power, those emotions seemed to increase
+in their fervour, as if in such increase the devout and overwrought
+superstition of the Tribune recognised additional proof of a mysterious
+guardianship mightier than the valour or art of man.
+
+She approached fearfully, and threw her arms around him, but without
+speaking.
+
+Ere yet the Tribune had well recovered himself, a slight tap at the door
+was heard, and the sound seemed at once to recall his self-possession.
+
+“Enter,” he said, lifting his face, to which the wonted colour slowly
+returned.
+
+An officer, half-opening the door, announced that the person he had sent
+for waited his leisure.
+
+“I come!--Core of my heart,” (he whispered to Nina,) “we will sup alone
+tonight, and will converse more on these matters:” so saying, with
+somewhat less than his usual loftiness of mien, he left the room,
+and sought his cabinet, which lay at the other side of the reception
+chamber. Here he found Cecco del Vecchio.
+
+“How, my bold fellow,” said the Tribune, assuming with wonderful ease
+that air of friendly equality which he always adopted with those of the
+lower class, and which made a striking contrast with the majesty, no
+less natural, which marked his manner to the great. “How now, my Cecco!
+Thou bearest thyself bravely, I see, during these sickly heats; we
+labourers--for both of us labour, Cecco--are too busy to fall ill as the
+idle do, in the summer, or the autumn, of Roman skies. I sent for thee,
+Cecco, because I would know how thy fellow-craftsmen are like to take
+the Orsini’s execution.”
+
+“Oh! Tribune,” replied the artificer, who, now familiarized with Rienzi,
+had lost much of his earlier awe of him, and who regarded the Tribune’s
+power as partly his own creation; “they are already out of their honest
+wits, at your courage in punishing the great men as you would the
+small.”
+
+“So;--I am repaid! But hark you, Cecco, it will bring, perhaps, hot work
+upon us. Every Baron will dread lest it be his turn next, and dread will
+make them bold, like rats in despair. We may have to fight for the Good
+Estate.”
+
+“With all my heart, Tribune,” answered Cecco, gruffly. “I, for one, am
+no craven.”
+
+“Then keep the same spirit in all your meetings with the artificers. I
+fight for the people. The people at a pinch must fight with me.”
+
+“They will,” replied Cecco; “they will!”
+
+“Cecco, this city is under the spiritual dominion of the Pontiff--so
+be it--it is an honour, not a burthen. But the temporal dominion, my
+friend, should be with Romans only. Is it not a disgrace to Republican
+Rome, that while we now speak, certain barbarians, whom we never heard
+of, should be deciding beyond the Alps on the merits of two sovereigns,
+whom we never saw? Is not this a thing to be resisted? An Italian
+city,--what hath it to do with a Bohemian Emperor?”
+
+“Little eno’, St. Paul knows!” said Cecco.
+
+“Should it not be a claim questioned?”
+
+“I think so!” replied the smith.
+
+“And if found an outrage on our ancient laws, should it not be a claim
+resisted?”
+
+“Not a doubt of it.”
+
+“Well, go to! The archives assure me that never was Emperor lawfully
+crowned but by the free votes of the people. We never chose Bohemian or
+Bavarian.”
+
+“But, on the contrary, whenever these Northmen come hither to be
+crowned, we try to drive them away with stones and curses,--for we are a
+people, Tribune, that love our liberties.”
+
+“Go back to your friends--see--address them, say that your Tribune will
+demand of these pretenders to Rome the right to her throne. Let them not
+be mazed or startled, but support me when the occasion comes.”
+
+“I am glad of this,” quoth the huge smith; “for our friends have grown a
+little unruly of late, and say--”
+
+“What do they say?”
+
+“That it is true you have expelled the banditti, and curb the Barons,
+and administer justice fairly;--”
+
+“Is not that miracle enough for the space of some two or three short
+months?”
+
+“Why, they say it would have been more than enough in a noble; but you,
+being raised from the people, and having such gifts and so forth, might
+do yet more. It is now three weeks since they have had any new thing to
+talk about; but Orsini’s execution today will cheer them a bit.”
+
+“Well, Cecco, well,” said the Tribune, rising, “they shall have more
+anon to feed their mouths with. So you think they love me not quite so
+well as they did some three weeks back?”
+
+“I say not so,” answered Cecco. “But we Romans are an impatient people.”
+
+“Alas, yes!”
+
+“However, they will no doubt stick close enough to you; provided,
+Tribune, you don’t put any new tax upon them.”
+
+“Ha! But if, in order to be free, it be necessary to fight--if to
+fight, it be necessary to have soldiers, why then the soldiers must be
+paid:--won’t the people contribute something to their own liberties;--to
+just laws, and safe lives?”
+
+“I don’t know,” returned the smith, scratching his head as if a little
+puzzled; “but I know that poor men won’t be overtaxed. They say they are
+better off with you than with the Barons before, and therefore they love
+you. But men in business, Tribune, poor men with families, must look to
+their bellies. Only one man in ten goes to law--only one man in twenty
+is butchered by a Baron’s brigand; but every man eats, and drinks, and
+feels a tax.”
+
+“This cannot be your reasoning, Cecco!” said Rienzi, gravely.
+
+“Why, Tribune, I am an honest man, but I have a large family to rear.”
+
+“Enough; enough!” said the Tribune quickly; and then he added
+abstractedly as to himself, but aloud,--“Methinks we have been too
+lavish; these shows and spectacles should cease.”
+
+“What!” cried Cecco; “what, Tribune!--would you deny the poor fellows a
+holiday. They work hard enough, and their only pleasure is seeing your
+fine shows and processions; and then they go home and say,--‘See, our
+man beats all the Barons! what state he keeps!’”
+
+“Ah! they blame not my splendour, then!”
+
+“Blame it; no! Without it they would be ashamed of you, and think the
+Buono Stato but a shabby concern.”
+
+“You speak bluntly, Cecco, but perhaps wisely. The saints keep you! Fail
+not to remember what I told you!”
+
+“No, no. It is a shame to have an Emperor thrust upon us;--so it is.
+Good evening, Tribune.”
+
+Left alone, the Tribune remained for some time plunged in gloomy and
+foreboding thoughts.
+
+“I am in the midst of a magician’s spell,” said he; “if I desist, the
+fiends tear me to pieces. What I have begun, that must I conclude. But
+this rude man shews me too well with what tools I work. For me failure
+is nothing, I have already climbed to a greatness which might render
+giddy many a born prince’s brain. But with my fall--Rome, Italy, Peace,
+Justice, Civilization--all fall back into the abyss of ages!”
+
+He rose; and after once or twice pacing his apartment, in which from
+many a column gleamed upon him the marble effigies of the great of old,
+he opened the casement to inhale the air of the now declining day.
+
+The Place of the Capitol was deserted save by the tread of the single
+sentinel. But still, dark and fearful, hung from the tall gibbet the
+clay of the robber noble; and the colossal shape of the Egyptian lion
+rose hard by, sharp and dark in the breathless atmosphere.
+
+“Dread statue!” thought Rienzi, “how many unwhispered and solemn rites
+hast thou witnessed by thy native Nile, ere the Roman’s hand transferred
+thee hither--the antique witness of Roman crimes! Strange! but when I
+look upon thee I feel as if thou hadst some mystic influence over my own
+fortunes. Beside thee was I hailed the republican Lord of Rome; beside
+thee are my palace, my tribunal, the place of my justice, my triumphs,
+and my pomp:--to thee my eyes turn from my bed of state: and if fated to
+die in power and peace, thou mayst be the last object my eyes will mark!
+Or if myself a victim--.” He paused--shrank from the thought presented
+to him--turned to a recess of the chamber--drew aside a curtain, that
+veiled a crucifix and a small table, on which lay a Bible and the
+monastic emblems of the skull and crossbones--emblems, indeed, grave and
+irresistible, of the nothingness of power, and the uncertainty of life.
+Before these sacred monitors, whether to humble or to elevate, knelt
+that proud and aspiring man; and when he rose, it was with a lighter
+step and more cheerful mien than he had worn that day.
+
+
+
+Chapter 4.III. The Actor Unmasked.
+
+“In intoxication,” says the proverb, “men betray their real characters.”
+ There is a no less honest and truth-revealing intoxication in
+prosperity, than in wine. The varnish of power brings forth at once the
+defects and the beauties of the human portrait.
+
+The unprecedented and almost miraculous rise of Rienzi from the rank of
+the Pontiff’s official to the Lord of Rome, would have been accompanied
+with a yet greater miracle, if it had not somewhat dazzled and seduced
+the object it elevated. When, as in well-ordered states and tranquil
+times, men rise slowly, step by step, they accustom themselves to
+their growing fortunes. But the leap of an hour from a citizen to a
+prince--from the victim of oppression to the dispenser of justice--is
+a transition so sudden as to render dizzy the most sober brain. And,
+perhaps, in proportion to the imagination, the enthusiasm, the genius
+of the man, will the suddenness be dangerous--excite too extravagant a
+hope--and lead to too chimerical an ambition. The qualities that made
+him rise, hurry him to his fall; and victory at the Marengo of his
+fortunes, urges him to destruction at its Moscow.
+
+In his greatness Rienzi did not so much acquire new qualities, as
+develop in brighter light and deeper shadow those which he had always
+exhibited. On the one hand he was just--resolute--the friend of
+the oppressed--the terror of the oppressor. His wonderful intellect
+illumined everything it touched. By rooting out abuse, and by searching
+examination and wise arrangement, he had trebled the revenues of the
+city without imposing a single new tax. Faithful to his idol of liberty,
+he had not been betrayed by the wish of the people into despotic
+authority; but had, as we have seen, formally revived, and established
+with new powers, the Parliamentary Council of the city. However
+extensive his own authority, he referred its exercise to the people; in
+their name he alone declared himself to govern, and he never executed
+any signal action without submitting to them its reasons or its
+justification. No less faithful to his desire to restore prosperity as
+well as freedom to Rome, he had seized the first dazzling epoch of his
+power to propose that great federative league with the Italian States
+which would, as he rightly said, have raised Rome to the indisputable
+head of European nations. Under his rule trade was secure, literature
+was welcome, art began to rise.
+
+On the other hand, the prosperity which made more apparent his justice,
+his integrity, his patriotism, his virtues, and his genius, brought out
+no less glaringly his arrogant consciousness of superiority, his love of
+display, and the wild and daring insolence of his ambition. Though
+too just to avenge himself by retaliating on the patricians their
+own violence, though, in his troubled and stormy tribuneship, not one
+unmerited or illegal execution of baron or citizen could be alleged
+against him, even by his enemies; yet sharing, less excusably, the
+weakness of Nina, he could not deny his proud heart the pleasure of
+humiliating those who had ridiculed him as a buffoon, despised him as a
+plebeian, and who, even now slaves to his face, were cynics behind his
+back. “They stood before him while he sate,” says his biographer; “all
+these Barons, bareheaded; their hands crossed on their breasts;
+their looks downcast;--oh, how frightened they were!”--a picture more
+disgraceful to the servile cowardice of the nobles than the haughty
+sternness of the Tribune. It might be that he deemed it policy to break
+the spirit of his foes, and to awe those whom it was a vain hope to
+conciliate.
+
+For his pomp there was a greater excuse: it was the custom of the time;
+it was the insignia and witness of power; and when the modern historian
+taunts him with not imitating the simplicity of an ancient tribune, the
+sneer betrays an ignorance of the spirit of the age, and the vain
+people whom the chief magistrate was to govern. No doubt his gorgeous
+festivals, his solemn processions, set off and ennobled--if parade can
+so be ennobled--by a refined and magnificent richness of imagination,
+associated always with popular emblems, and designed to convey the idea
+of rejoicing for Liberty Restored, and to assert the state and majesty
+of Rome Revived--no doubt these spectacles, however otherwise judged in
+a more enlightened age and by closet sages, served greatly to augment
+the importance of the Tribune abroad, and to dazzle the pride of a
+fickle and ostentatious populace. And taste grew refined, luxury called
+labour into requisition, and foreigners from all states were attracted
+by the splendour of a court over which presided, under republican names,
+two sovereigns, (Rienzi, speaking in one of his letters of his great
+enterprise, refers it to the ardour of youth. The exact date of his
+birth is unknown; but he was certainly a young man at the time now
+referred to. His portrait in the Museo Barberino, from which his
+description has been already taken in the first book of this work,
+represents him as beardless, and, as far as one can judge, somewhere
+above thirty--old enough, to be sure, to have a beard; and seven years
+afterwards he wore a long one, which greatly displeased his naive
+biographer, who seems to consider it a sort of crime. The head is very
+remarkable for its stern beauty, and little, if at all, inferior to that
+of Napoleon; to which, as I before remarked, it has some resemblance in
+expression, if not in feature.) young and brilliant, the one renowned
+for his genius, the other eminent for her beauty. It was, indeed, a
+dazzling and royal dream in the long night of Rome, spoiled of her
+Pontiff and his voluptuous train--that holyday reign of Cola di Rienzi!
+And often afterwards it was recalled with a sigh, not only by the poor
+for its justice, the merchant for its security, but the gallant for its
+splendour, and the poet for its ideal and intellectual grace!
+
+As if to show that it was not to gratify the more vulgar appetite and
+desire, in the midst of all his pomp, when the board groaned with
+the delicacies of every clime, when the wine most freely circled, the
+Tribune himself preserved a temperate and even rigid abstinence. (“Vita
+di Cola di Rienzi”.--The biographer praises the abstinence of the
+Tribune.) While the apartments of state and the chamber of his bride
+were adorned with a profuse luxury and cost, to his own private rooms he
+transported precisely the same furniture which had been familiar to him
+in his obscurer life. The books, the busts, the reliefs, the arms which
+had inspired him heretofore with the visions of the past, were endeared
+by associations which he did not care to forego.
+
+But that which constituted the most singular feature of his character,
+and which still wraps all around him in a certain mystery, was his
+religious enthusiasm. The daring but wild doctrines of Arnold of
+Brescia, who, two centuries anterior, had preached reform, but
+inculcated mysticism, still lingered in Rome, and had in earlier youth
+deeply coloured the mind of Rienzi; and as I have before observed,
+his youthful propensity to dreamy thought, the melancholy death of his
+brother, his own various but successful fortunes, had all contributed
+to nurse the more zealous and solemn aspirations of this remarkable
+man. Like Arnold of Brescia, his faith bore a strong resemblance to the
+intense fanaticism of our own Puritans of the Civil War, as if similar
+political circumstances conduced to similar religious sentiments. He
+believed himself inspired by awful and mighty commune with beings of the
+better world. Saints and angels ministered to his dreams; and without
+this, the more profound and hallowed enthusiasm, he might never
+have been sufficiently emboldened by mere human patriotism, to
+his unprecedented enterprise: it was the secret of much of his
+greatness,--many of his errors. Like all men who are thus self-deluded
+by a vain but not inglorious superstition, united with, and coloured by,
+earthly ambition, it is impossible to say how far he was the visionary,
+and how far at times he dared to be the impostor. In the ceremonies of
+his pageants, in the ornaments of his person, were invariably introduced
+mystic and figurative emblems. In times of danger he publicly professed
+to have been cheered and directed by divine dreams; and on many
+occasions the prophetic warnings he announced having been singularly
+verified by the event, his influence with the people was strengthened by
+a belief in the favour and intercourse of Heaven. Thus, delusion of
+self might tempt and conduce to imposition on others, and he might not
+scruple to avail himself of the advantage of seeming what he believed
+himself to be. Yet, no doubt this intoxicating credulity pushed him
+into extravagance unworthy of, and strangely contrasted by, his soberer
+intellect, and made him disproportion his vast ends to his unsteady
+means, by the proud fallacy, that where man failed, God would interpose.
+Cola di Rienzi was no faultless hero of romance. In him lay, in
+conflicting prodigality, the richest and most opposite elements of
+character; strong sense, visionary superstition, an eloquence and
+energy that mastered all he approached, a blind enthusiasm that mastered
+himself; luxury and abstinence, sternness and susceptibility, pride to
+the great, humility to the low; the most devoted patriotism and the most
+avid desire of personal power. As few men undertake great and desperate
+designs without strong animal spirits, so it may be observed, that with
+most who have risen to eminence over the herd, there is an aptness, at
+times, to a wild mirth and an elasticity of humour which often astonish
+the more sober and regulated minds, that are “the commoners of life:”
+ And the theatrical grandeur of Napoleon, the severe dignity of
+Cromwell, are strangely contrasted by a frequent, nor always seasonable
+buffoonery, which it is hard to reconcile with the ideal of their
+characters, or the gloomy and portentous interest of their careers. And
+this, equally a trait in the temperament of Rienzi, distinguished his
+hours of relaxation, and contributed to that marvellous versatility with
+which his harder nature accommodated itself to all humours and all men.
+Often from his austere judgment-seat he passed to the social board an
+altered man; and even the sullen Barons who reluctantly attended his
+feasts, forgot his public greatness in his familiar wit; albeit this
+reckless humour could not always refrain from seeking its subject in the
+mortification of his crest-fallen foes--a pleasure it would have been
+wiser and more generous to forego. And perhaps it was, in part, the
+prompting of this sarcastic and unbridled humour that made him often
+love to astonish as well as to awe. But even this gaiety, if so it may
+be called, taking an appearance of familiar frankness, served much to
+ingratiate him with the lower orders; and, if a fault in the prince, was
+a virtue in the demagogue.
+
+To these various characteristics, now fully developed, the reader must
+add a genius of designs so bold, of conceptions so gigantic and august,
+conjoined with that more minute and ordinary ability which masters
+details; that with a brave, noble, intelligent, devoted people to back
+his projects, the accession of the Tribune would have been the close of
+the thraldom of Italy, and the abrupt limit of the dark age of Europe.
+With such a people, his faults would have been insensibly checked,
+his more unwholesome power have received a sufficient curb. Experience
+familiarizing him with power, would have gradually weaned him from
+extravagance in its display; and the active and masculine energy of his
+intellect would have found field for the more restless spirits, as his
+justice gave shelter to the more tranquil. Faults he had, but whether
+those faults or the faults of the people, were to prepare his downfall,
+is yet to be seen.
+
+Meanwhile, amidst a discontented nobility and a fickle populace, urged
+on by the danger of repose to the danger of enterprise; partly blinded
+by his outward power, partly impelled by the fear of internal weakness;
+at once made sanguine by his genius and his fanaticism, and uneasy by
+the expectations of the crowd,--he threw himself headlong into the
+gulf of the rushing Time, and surrendered his lofty spirit to no
+other guidance than a conviction of its natural buoyancy and its
+heaven-directed haven.
+
+
+
+Chapter 4.IV. The Enemy’s Camp.
+
+While Rienzi was preparing, in concert, perhaps, with the ambassadors of
+the brave Tuscan States, whose pride of country and love of liberty
+were well fitted to comprehend, and even share them, his schemes for
+the emancipation from all foreign yoke of the Ancient Queen, and the
+Everlasting Garden, of the World; the Barons, in restless secrecy, were
+revolving projects for the restoration of their own power.
+
+One morning, the heads of the Savelli, the Orsini, and the Frangipani,
+met at the disfortified palace of Stephen Colonna. Their conference
+was warm and earnest--now resolute, now wavering, in its object--as
+indignation or fear prevailed.
+
+“You have heard,” said Luca di Savelli, in his usual soft and womanly
+voice, “that the Tribune has proclaimed, that, the day after tomorrow,
+he will take the order of knighthood, and watch the night before in the
+church of the Lateran: He has honoured me with a request to attend his
+vigil.”
+
+“Yes, yes, the knave. What means this new fantasy?” said the brutal
+Prince of the Orsini.
+
+“Unless it be to have the cavalier’s right to challenge a noble,” said
+old Colonna, “I cannot conjecture. Will Rome never grow weary of this
+madman?”
+
+“Rome is the more mad of the two,” said Luca di Savelli; “but methinks,
+in his wildness, the Tribune hath committed one error of which we may
+well avail ourselves at Avignon.”
+
+“Ah,” cried the old Colonna, “that must be our game; passive here, let
+us fight at Avignon.”
+
+“In a word then, he hath ordered that his bath shall be prepared in the
+holy porphyry vase in which once bathed the Emperor Constantine.”
+
+“Profanation! profanation!” cried Stephen. “This is enough to excuse a
+bull of excommunication. The Pope shall hear of it. I will despatch a
+courier forthwith.”
+
+“Better wait and see the ceremony,” said the Savelli; “some greater
+folly will close the pomp, be assured.”
+
+“Hark ye, my masters,” said the grim Lord of the Orsini; “ye are for
+delay and caution; I for promptness and daring; my kinsman’s blood calls
+aloud, and brooks no parley.”
+
+“And what do?” said the soft-voiced Savelli; “fight without soldiers,
+against twenty thousand infuriated Romans? not I.”
+
+Orsini sunk his voice into a meaning whisper. “In Venice,” said he,
+“this upstart might be mastered without an army. Think you in Rome no
+man wears a stiletto?”
+
+“Hush,” said Stephen, who was of far nobler and better nature than his
+compeers, and who, justifying to himself all other resistance to the
+Tribune, felt his conscience rise against assassination; “this must not
+be--your zeal transports you.”
+
+“Besides, whom can we employ? scarce a German left in the city; and
+to whisper this to a Roman were to exchange places with poor
+Martino--Heaven take him, for he’s nearer heaven than ever he was
+before,” said the Savelli.
+
+“Jest me no jests,” cried the Orsini, fiercely. “Jests on such a
+subject! By St. Francis I would, since thou lovest such wit, thou hadst
+it all to thyself; and, methinks, at the Tribune’s board I have seen
+thee laugh at his rude humour, as if thou didst not require a cord to
+choke thee.”
+
+“Better to laugh than to tremble,” returned the Savelli.
+
+“How! darest thou say I tremble?” cried the Baron.
+
+“Hush, hush,” said the veteran Colonna, with impatient dignity. “We are
+not now in such holiday times as to quarrel amongst ourselves. Forbear,
+my lords.”
+
+“Your greater prudence, Signor,” said the sarcastic Savelli, “arises
+from your greater safety. Your house is about to shelter itself under
+the Tribune’s; and when the Lord Adrian returns from Naples, the
+innkeeper’s son will be brother to your kinsman.”
+
+“You might spare me that taunt,” said the old noble, with some emotion.
+“Heaven knows how bitterly I have chafed at the thought; yet I would
+Adrian were with us. His word goes far to moderate the Tribune, and to
+guide my own course, for my passion beguiles my reason; and since his
+departure methinks we have been the more sullen without being the more
+strong. Let this pass. If my own son had wed the Tribune’s sister, I
+would yet strike a blow for the old constitution as becomes a noble, if
+I but saw that the blow would not cut off my own head.”
+
+Savelli, who had been whispering apart with Rinaldo Frangipani, now
+said--
+
+“Noble Prince, listen to me. You are bound by your kinsman’s approaching
+connection, your venerable age, and your intimacy with the Pontiff, to
+a greater caution than we are. Leave to us the management of the
+enterprise, and be assured of our discretion.”
+
+A young boy, Stefanello, who afterwards succeeded to the representation
+of the direct line of the Colonna, and whom the reader will once again
+encounter ere our tale be closed, was playing by his grandsire’s knees.
+He looked sharply up at Savelli, and said, “My grandfather is too wise,
+and you are too timid. Frangipani is too yielding, and Orsini is too
+like a vexed bull. I wish I were a year or two older.”
+
+“And what would you do, my pretty censurer?” said the smooth Savelli,
+biting his smiling lip.
+
+“Stab the Tribune with my own stiletto, and then hey for Palestrina!”
+
+“The egg will hatch a brave serpent,” quoth the Savelli. “Yet why so
+bitter against the Tribune, my cockatrice?”
+
+“Because he allowed an insolent mercer to arrest my uncle Agapet for
+debt. The debt had been owed these ten years; and though it is said that
+no house in Rome has owed more money than the Colonna, this is the first
+time I ever heard of a rascally creditor being allowed to claim his debt
+unless with doffed cap and bended knee. And I say that I would not live
+to be a Baron, if such upstart insolence is to be put upon me.”
+
+“My child,” said old Stephen, laughing heartily, “I see our noble order
+will be safe enough in your hands.”
+
+“And,” continued the child, emboldened by the applause he received, “if
+I had time after pricking the Tribune, I would fain have a second stroke
+at--”
+
+“Whom?” said the Savelli, observing the boy pause.
+
+“My cousin Adrian. Shame on him, for dreaming to make one a wife whose
+birth would scarce fit her for a Colonna’s leman!”
+
+“Go play, my child--go play,” said the old Colonna, as he pushed the boy
+from him.
+
+“Enough of this babble,” cried the Orsini, rudely. “Tell me, old lord;
+just as I entered, I saw an old friend (one of your former mercenaries)
+quit the palace--may I crave his errand?”
+
+“Ah, yes; a messenger from Fra Moreale. I wrote to the Knight, reproving
+him for his desertion on our ill-starred return from Corneto, and
+intimating that five hundred lances would be highly paid for just now.”
+
+“Ah,” said Savelli; “and what is his answer!”
+
+“Oh, wily and evasive: He is profuse in compliments and good wishes;
+but says he is under fealty to the Hungarian king, whose cause is before
+Rienzi’s tribunal; that he cannot desert his present standard; that he
+fears Rome is so evenly balanced between patricians and the people, that
+whatever party would permanently be uppermost must call in a Podesta;
+and this character alone the Provencal insinuates would suit him.”
+
+“Montreal our Podesta?” cried the Orsini.
+
+“And why not?” said Savelli; “as good a well-born Podesta as a low-born
+Tribune? But I trust we may do without either. Colonna, has this
+messenger from Fra Moreale left the city?”
+
+“I suppose so.”
+
+“No,” said Orsini; “I met him at the gate, and knew him of old: it is
+Rodolf, the Saxon (once a hireling of the Colonna), who has made some
+widows among my clients in the good old day. He is a little disguised
+now; however, I recognised and accosted him, for I thought he was one
+who might yet become a friend, and I bade him await me at my palace.”
+
+“You did well,” said the Savelli, musing, and his eyes met those of
+Orsini. Shortly afterwards a conference, in which much was said and
+nothing settled, was broken up; but Luca di Savelli, loitering at the
+porch, prayed the Frangipani, and the other Barons, to adjourn to the
+Orsini’s palace.
+
+“The old Colonna,” said he, “is well-nigh in his dotage. We shall come
+to a quick determination without him, and we can secure his proxy in his
+son.”
+
+And this was a true prophecy, for half-an-hour’s consultation with
+Rodolf of Saxony sufficed to ripen thought into enterprise.
+
+
+
+Chapter 4.V. The Night and its Incidents.
+
+With the following twilight, Rome was summoned to the commencement of
+the most magnificent spectacle the Imperial City had witnessed since the
+fall of the Caesars. It had been a singular privilege, arrogated by the
+people of Rome, to confer upon their citizens the order of knighthood.
+Twenty years before, a Colonna and an Orsini had received this popular
+honour. Rienzi, who designed it as the prelude to a more important
+ceremony, claimed from the Romans a similar distinction. From the
+Capitol to the Lateran swept, in long procession, all that Rome boasted
+of noble, of fair, and brave. First went horsemen without number, and
+from all the neighbouring parts of Italy, in apparel that well befitted
+the occasion. Trumpeters, and musicians of all kinds, followed, and
+the trumpets were of silver; youths bearing the harness of the knightly
+war-steed, wrought with gold, preceded the march of the loftiest
+matronage of Rome, whose love for show, and it may be whose admiration
+for triumphant fame, (which to women sanctions many offences,) made them
+forget the humbled greatness of their lords: amidst them Nina and Irene,
+outshining all the rest; then came the Tribune and the Pontiff’s Vicar,
+surrounded by all the great Signors of the city, smothering alike
+resentment, revenge, and scorn, and struggling who should approach
+nearest to the monarch of the day. The high-hearted old Colonna alone
+remained aloof, following at a little distance, and in a garb studiously
+plain. But his age, his rank, his former renown in war and state, did
+not suffice to draw to his grey locks and highborn mien a single one
+of the shouts that attended the meanest lord on whom the great Tribune
+smiled. Savelli followed nearest to Rienzi, the most obsequious of the
+courtly band; immediately before the Tribune came two men; the one bore
+a drawn sword, the other the pendone, or standard usually assigned to
+royalty. The tribune himself was clothed in a long robe of white
+satin, whose snowy dazzle (miri candoris) is peculiarly dwelt on by the
+historian, richly decorated with gold; while on his breast were many
+of those mystic symbols I have before alluded to, the exact meaning of
+which was perhaps known only to the wearer. In his dark eye, and on
+that large tranquil brow, in which thought seemed to sleep, as sleeps a
+storm, there might be detected a mind abstracted from the pomp around;
+but ever and anon he roused himself, and conversed partially with
+Raimond or Savelli.
+
+“This is a quaint game,” said the Orsini, falling back to the old
+Colonna: “but it may end tragically.”
+
+“Methinks it may,” said the old man, “if the Tribune overhear thee.”
+
+Orsini grew pale. “How--nay--nay, even if he did, he never resents
+words, but professes to laugh at our spoken rage. It was but the
+other day that some knave told him what one of the Annibaldi said of
+him--words for which a true cavalier would have drawn the speaker’s
+life’s blood; and he sent for the Annibaldi, and said, ‘My friend,
+receive this purse of gold,--court wits should be paid.’”
+
+“Did Annibaldi take the gold?”
+
+“Why, no; the Tribune was pleased with his spirit, and made him sup with
+him; and Annibaldi says he never spent a merrier evening, and no longer
+wonders that his kinsman, Riccardo, loves the buffoon so.”
+
+Arrived now at the Lateran, Luca di Savelli fell also back, and
+whispered to Orsini; the Frangipani, and some other of the nobles,
+exchanged meaning looks; Rienzi, entering the sacred edifice in which,
+according to custom, he was to pass the night watching his armour, bade
+the crowd farewell, and summoned them the next morning, “To hear things
+that might, he trusted, be acceptable to heaven and earth.”
+
+The immense multitude received this intimation with curiosity and
+gladness, while those who had been in some measure prepared by Cecco del
+Vecchio, hailed it as an omen of their Tribune’s unflagging resolution.
+The concourse dispersed with singular order and quietness; it was
+recorded as a remarkable fact, that in so great a crowd, composed of men
+of all parties, none exhibited licence or indulged in quarrel. Some of
+the barons and cavaliers, among whom was Luca di Savelli, whose sleek
+urbanity and sarcastic humour found favour with the Tribune, and a few
+subordinate pages and attendants, alone remained; and, save a single
+sentinel at the porch, that broad space before the Palace, the Basilica
+and Fount of Constantine, soon presented a silent and desolate void to
+the melancholy moonlight. Within the church, according to the usage of
+the time and rite, the descendant of the Teuton kings received the order
+of the Santo Spirito. His pride, or some superstition equally weak,
+though more excusable, led him to bathe in the porphyry vase which
+an absurd legend consecrated to Constantine; and this, as Savelli
+predicted, cost him dear. These appointed ceremonies concluded, his arms
+were placed in that part of the church, within the columns of St. John.
+And here his state bed was prepared. (In a more northern country, the
+eve of knighthood would have been spent without sleeping. In Italy, the
+ceremony of watching the armour does not appear to have been so rigidly
+observed.)
+
+The attendant barons, pages, and chamberlains, retired out of sight to
+a small side chapel in the edifice; and Rienzi was left alone. A single
+lamp, placed beside his bed, contended with the mournful rays of the
+moon, that cast through the long casements, over aisle and pillar, its
+“dim religious light.” The sanctity of the place, the solemnity of the
+hour, and the solitary silence round, were well calculated to deepen
+the high-wrought and earnest mood of that son of fortune. Many and high
+fancies swept over his mind--now of worldly aspirations, now of more
+august but visionary belief, till at length, wearied with his own
+reflections, he cast himself on the bed. It was an omen which graver
+history has not neglected to record, that the moment he pressed the bed,
+new prepared for the occasion, part of it sank under him: he himself was
+affected by the accident, and sprung forth, turning pale and muttering;
+but, as if ashamed of his weakness, after a moment’s pause, again
+composed himself to rest, and drew the drapery round him.
+
+The moonbeams grew fainter and more faint as the time proceeded, and
+the sharp distinction between light and shade faded fast from the marble
+floor; when from behind a column at the furthest verge of the building,
+a strange shadow suddenly crossed the sickly light--it crept on--it
+moved, but without an echo,--from pillar to pillar it flitted--it rested
+at last behind the column nearest to the Tribune’s bed--it remained
+stationary.
+
+The shades gathered darker and darker round; the stillness seemed to
+deepen; the moon was gone; and, save from the struggling ray of the lamp
+beside Rienzi, the blackness of night closed over the solemn and ghostly
+scene.
+
+In one of the side chapels, as I have before said, which, in the many
+alterations the church has undergone, is probably long since destroyed,
+were Savelli and the few attendants retained by the Tribune. Savelli
+alone slept not; he remained sitting erect, breathless and listening,
+while the tall lights in the chapel rendered yet more impressive the
+rapid changes of his countenance.
+
+“Now pray Heaven,” said he, “the knave miscarry not! Such an occasion
+may never again occur! He has a strong arm and a dexterous hand,
+doubtless; but the other is a powerful man. The deed once done, I care
+not whether the doer escape or not; if not, why we must stab him! Dead
+men tell no tales. At the worst, who can avenge Rienzi? There is no
+other Rienzi! Ourselves and the Frangipani seize the Aventine, the
+Colonna and the Orsini the other quarters of the city; and without the
+master-spirit, we may laugh at the mad populace. But if discovered;--”
+ and Savelli, who, fortunately for his foes, had not nerves equal to his
+will, covered his face and shuddered;--“I think I hear a noise!--no--is
+it the wind?--tush, it must be old Vico de Scotto, turning in his shell
+of mail!--silent--I like not that silence! No cry--no sound! Can the
+ruffian have played us false? or could he not scale the casement? It is
+but a child’s effort;--or did the sentry spy him?”
+
+Time passed on: the first ray of daylight slowly gleamed, when he
+thought he heard the door of the church close. Savelli’s suspense
+became intolerable: he stole from the chapel, and came in sight of the
+Tribune’s bed--all was silent.
+
+“Perhaps the silence of death,” said Savelli, as he crept back.
+
+Meanwhile the Tribune, vainly endeavouring to close his eyes, was
+rendered yet more watchful by the uneasy position he was obliged to
+assume--for the part of the bed towards the pillow having given way,
+while the rest remained solid, he had inverted the legitimate order
+of lying, and drawn himself up as he might best accommodate his limbs,
+towards the foot of the bed. The light of the lamp, though shaded by the
+draperies, was thus opposite to him. Impatient of his wakefulness, he at
+last thought it was this dull and flickering light which scared away the
+slumber, and was about to rise, to remove it further from him, when he
+saw the curtain at the other end of the bed gently lifted: he remained
+quiet and alarmed;--ere he could draw a second breath, a dark figure
+interposed between the light and the bed; and he felt that a stroke was
+aimed against that part of the couch, which, but for the accident that
+had seemed to him ominous, would have given his breast to the knife.
+Rienzi waited not a second and better-directed blow; as the assassin yet
+stooped, groping in the uncertain light, he threw on him all the weight
+and power of his large and muscular frame, wrenched the stiletto from
+the bravo’s hand, and dashing him on the bed, placed his knee on his
+breast.--The stiletto rose--gleamed--descended--the murtherer swerved
+aside, and it pierced only his right arm. The Tribune raised, for a
+deadlier blow, the revengeful blade.
+
+The assassin thus foiled was a man used to all form and shape of danger,
+and he did not now lose his presence of mind.
+
+“Hold!” said he; “if you kill me, you will die yourself. Spare me, and I
+will save you.”
+
+“Miscreant!”
+
+“Hush--not so loud, or you will disturb your attendants, and some of
+them may do what I have failed to execute. Spare me, I say, and I will
+reveal that which were worth more than my life; but call not--speak not
+aloud, I warn you!”
+
+The Tribune felt his heart stand still: in that lonely place, afar from
+his idolizing people--his devoted guards--with but loathing barons,
+or, it might be, faithless menials, within call, might not the baffled
+murtherer give a wholesome warning?--and those words and that doubt
+seemed suddenly to reverse their respective positions, and leave the
+conqueror still in the assassin’s power.
+
+“Thou thinkest to deceive me,” said he, but in a voice whispered and
+uncertain, which shewed the ruffian the advantage he had gained: “thou
+wouldst that I might release thee without summoning my attendants, that
+thou mightst a second time attempt my life.”
+
+“Thou hast disabled my right arm, and disarmed me of my only weapon.”
+
+“How camest thou hither?”
+
+“By connivance.”
+
+“Whence this attempt?”
+
+“The dictation of others.”
+
+“If I pardon thee--”
+
+“Thou shalt know all!”
+
+“Rise,” said the Tribune, releasing his prisoner, but with great
+caution, and still grasping his shoulder with one hand, while the other
+pointed the dagger at his throat.
+
+“Did my sentry admit thee? There is but one entrance to the church,
+methinks.”
+
+“He did not; follow me, and I will tell thee more.”
+
+“Dog! thou hast accomplices?”
+
+“If I have, thou hast the knife at my throat.”
+
+“Wouldst thou escape?”
+
+“I cannot, or I would.”
+
+Rienzi looked hard, by the dull light of the lamp, at the assassin. His
+rugged and coarse countenance, rude garb, and barbarian speech, seemed
+to him proof sufficient that he was but the hireling of others; and it
+might be wise to brave one danger present and certain, to prevent much
+danger future and unforeseen. Rienzi, too, was armed, strong, active, in
+the prime of life;--and at the worst, there was no part of the building
+whence his voice would not reach those within the chapel,--if they could
+be depended upon.
+
+“Shew me then thy place and means of entrance,” said he; “and if I but
+suspect thee as we move--thou diest. Take up the lamp.”
+
+The ruffian nodded; with his left hand took up the lamp as he was
+ordered; and with Rienzi’s grasp on his shoulder, while the wound from
+his right arm dropped gore as he passed, he moved noiselessly along the
+church--gained the altar--to the left of which was a small room for the
+use or retirement of the priest. To this he made his way. Rienzi’s heart
+misgave him a moment.
+
+“Beware,” he whispered, “the least sign of fraud, and thou art the first
+victim!”
+
+The assassin nodded again, and proceeded. They entered the room; and
+then the Tribune’s strange guide pointed to an open casement. “Behold my
+entrance,” said he; “and, if you permit me, my egress--”
+
+“The frog gets not out of the well so easily as he came in, friend,”
+ returned Rienzi, smiling. “And now, if I am not to call my guards, what
+am I to do with thee!”
+
+“Let me go, and I will seek thee tomorrow; and if thou payest me
+handsomely, and promisest not to harm limb or life, I will put thine
+enemies and my employers in thy power.”
+
+Rienzi could not refrain from a slight laugh at the proposition, but
+composing himself, replied--“And what if I call my attendants, and give
+thee to their charge?”
+
+“Thou givest me to those very enemies and employers; and in despair lest
+I betray them, ere the day dawn they cut my throat--or thine.”
+
+“Methinks knave, I have seen thee before.”
+
+“Thou hast. I blush not for name or country. I am Rodolf of Saxony!”
+
+“I remember me:--servitor of Walter de Montreal. He, then, is thy
+instigator!”
+
+“Roman, no! That noble Knight scorns other weapon than the open sword,
+and his own hand slays his own foes. Your pitiful, miserable, dastard
+Italians, alone employ the courage, and hire the arm, of others.”
+
+Rienzi remained silent. He had released hold of his prisoner, and stood
+facing him; every now and then regarding his countenance, and again
+relapsing into thought. At length, casting his eyes round the small
+chamber thus singularly tenanted, he observed a kind of closet, in which
+the priests’ robes, and some articles used in the sacred service, were
+contained. It suggested at once an escape from his dilemma: he pointed
+to it--
+
+“There, Rodolf of Saxony, shalt thou pass some part of this night--a
+small penance for thy meditated crime; and tomorrow, as thou lookest for
+life, thou wilt reveal all.”
+
+“Hark, ye, Tribune,” returned the Saxon, doggedly; “my liberty is in
+your power, but neither my tongue nor my life. If I consent to be caged
+in that hole, you must swear on the crossed hilt of the dagger that you
+now hold, that, on confession of all I know, you pardon and set me free.
+My employers are enough to glut your rage an’ you were a tiger. If you
+do not swear this--”
+
+“Ah, my modest friend!--the alternative?”
+
+“I brain myself against the stone wall! Better such a death than the
+rack!”
+
+“Fool, I want not revenge against such as thou. Be honest, and I swear
+that, twelve hours after thy confession, thou shalt stand safe and
+unscathed without the walls of Rome. So help me our Lord and his
+saints.”
+
+“I am content!--Donner und Hagel, I have lived long enough to care only
+for my own life, and the great captain’s next to it;--for the rest, I
+reck not if ye southerns cut each other’s throats, and make all Italy
+one grave.”
+
+With this benevolent speech, Rodolf entered the closet; but ere Rienzi
+could close the door, he stepped forth again--
+
+“Hold,” said he: “this blood flows fast. Help me to bandage it, or I
+shall bleed to death ere my confession.”
+
+“Per fede,” said the Tribune, his strange humour enjoying the man’s cool
+audacity; “but, considering the service thou wouldst have rendered me,
+thou art the most pleasant, forbearing, unabashed, good fellow, I have
+seen this many a year. Give us thine own belt. I little thought my first
+eve of knighthood would have been so charitably spent!”
+
+“Methinks these robes would make a better bandage,” said Rodolf,
+pointing to the priests’ gear suspended from the wall.
+
+“Silence, knave,” said the Tribune, frowning; “no sacrilege! Yet, as
+thou takest such dainty care of thyself, thou shalt have mine own scarf
+to accommodate thee.”
+
+With that the Tribune, placing his dagger on the ground, while he
+cautiously guarded it with his foot, bound up the wounded limb, for
+which condescension Rodolf gave him short thanks; resumed his weapon and
+lamp; closed the door; drew over it the long, heavy bolt without, and
+returned to his couch, deeply and indignantly musing over the treason he
+had so fortunately escaped.
+
+At the first grey streak of dawn he went out of the great door of the
+church, called the sentry, who was one of his own guard, and bade him
+privately, and now ere the world was astir, convey the prisoner to one
+of the private dungeons of the Capitol. “Be silent,” said he: “utter not
+a word of this to any one; be obedient, and thou shalt be promoted. This
+done, find out the councillor, Pandulfo di Guido, and bid him seek me
+here ere the crowd assemble.”
+
+He then, making the sentinel doff his heavy shoes of iron, led him
+across the church, resigned Rodolf to his care, saw them depart, and
+in a few minutes afterwards his voice was heard by the inmates of the
+neighbouring chapel; and he was soon surrounded by his train.
+
+He was already standing on the floor, wrapped in a large gown lined with
+furs; and his piercing eye scanned carefully the face of each man that
+approached. Two of the Barons of the Frangipani family exhibited
+some tokens of confusion and embarrassment, from which they speedily
+recovered at the frank salutation of the Tribune.
+
+But all the art of Savelli could not prevent his features from betraying
+to the most indifferent eye the terror of his soul;--and, when he felt
+the penetrating gaze of Rienzi upon him, he trembled in every joint.
+Rienzi alone did not, however, seem to notice his disorder; and when
+Vico di Scotto, an old knight, from whose hands he received his sword,
+asked him how he had passed the night, he replied, cheerfully--
+
+“Well, well--my brave friend! Over a maiden knight some good angel
+always watches. Signor Luca di Savelli, I fear you have slept but ill:
+you seem pale. No matter!--our banquet today will soon brighten the
+current of your gay blood.”
+
+“Blood, Tribune!” said di Scotto, who was innocent of the plot: “Thou
+sayest blood, and lo! on the floor are large gouts of it not yet dry.”
+
+“Now, out on thee, old hero, for betraying my awkwardness! I pricked
+myself with my own dagger in unrobing. Thank Heaven it hath no poison in
+its blade!”
+
+The Frangipani exchanged looks,--Luca di Savelli clung to a column for
+support,--and the rest of the attendants seemed grave and surprised.
+
+“Think not of it, my masters,” said Rienzi: “it is a good omen,
+and a true prophecy. It implies that he who girds on his sword
+for the good of the state, must be ready to spill his blood for it:
+that am I. No more of this--a mere scratch: it gave more
+blood than I recked of from so slight a puncture, and saves
+the leech the trouble of the lancet. How brightly breaks the day!
+We must prepare to meet our fellow-citizens--they will be here anon.
+Ha, my Pandulfo--welcome!--thou, my old friend, shalt buckle on this
+mantle!”
+
+And while Pandulfo was engaged in the task, the Tribune whispered a few
+words in his ear, which, by the smile on his countenance, seemed to the
+attendants one of the familiar jests with which Rienzi distinguished his
+intercourse with his more confidential intimates.
+
+
+
+Chapter 4.VI. The Celebrated Citation.
+
+The bell of the great Lateran church sounded shrill and loud, as the
+mighty multitude, greater even than that of the preceding night, swept
+on. The appointed officers made way with difficulty for the barons and
+ambassadors, and scarcely were those noble visitors admitted ere the
+crowd closed in their ranks, poured headlong into the church, and took
+the way to the chapel of Boniface VIII. There, filling every cranny,
+and blocking up the entrance, the more fortunate of the press beheld the
+Tribune surrounded by the splendid court his genius had collected, and
+his fortune had subdued. At length, as the solemn and holy music began
+to swell through the edifice, preluding the celebration of the mass, the
+Tribune stepped forth, and the hush of the music was increased by the
+universal and dead silence of the audience. His height, his air, his
+countenance, were such as always command the attention of crowds; and at
+this time they received every adjunct from the interest of the occasion,
+and that peculiar look of intent yet suppressed fervour, which is,
+perhaps, the sole gift of the eloquent that Nature alone can give.
+
+“Be it known,” said he, slowly and deliberately, “in virtue of that
+authority, power, and jurisdiction, which the Roman people, in general
+parliament, have assigned to us, and which the Sovereign Pontiff hath
+confirmed, that we, not ungrateful of the gift and grace of the Holy
+Spirit--whose soldier we now are--nor of the favour of the Roman people,
+declare, that Rome, capital of the world, and base of the Christian
+church; and that every City, State, and People of Italy, are henceforth
+free. By that freedom, and in the same consecrated authority, we
+proclaim, that the election, jurisdiction, and monarchy of the Roman
+empire appertain to Rome and Rome’s people, and the whole of Italy. We
+cite, then, and summon personally, the illustrious princes, Louis Duke
+of Bavaria, and Charles king of Bohemia, who would style themselves
+Emperors of Italy, to appear before us, or the other magistrates of
+Rome, to plead and to prove their claim between this day and the Day of
+Pentecost. We cite also, and within the same term, the Duke of Saxony,
+the Prince of Brandenburg, and whosoever else, potentate, prince, or
+prelate, asserts the right of Elector to the imperial throne--a
+right that, we find it chronicled from ancient and immemorial time,
+appertaineth only to the Roman people--and this in vindication of
+our civil liberties, without derogation of the spiritual power of
+the Church, the Pontiff, and the Sacred College. Herald, proclaim
+the citation, at the greater and more formal length, as written and
+intrusted to your hands, without the Lateran.”
+
+     (“Il tutto senza derogare all’ autorita della Chiesa, del
+     Papa e del Sacro Collegio.” So concludes this extraordinary
+     citation, this bold and wonderful assertion of the classic
+     independence of Italy, in the most feudal time of the
+     fourteenth century. The anonymous biographer of Rienzi
+     declares that the Tribune cited also the Pope and the
+     Cardinals to reside in Rome. De Sade powerfully and
+     incontrovertibly refutes this addition to the daring or the
+     extravagance of Rienzi. Gibbon, however, who has rendered
+     the rest of the citation in terms more abrupt and
+     discourteous than he was warranted by any authority, copies
+     the biographer’s blunder, and sneers at De Sade, as using
+     arguments “rather of decency than of weight.” Without
+     wearying the reader with all the arguments of the learned
+     Abbe, it may be sufficient to give the first two.
+
+     1st. All the other contemporaneous historians that have
+     treated of this event, G. Villani, Hocsemius, the Vatican
+     MSS. and other chroniclers, relating the citation of the
+     Emperor and Electors, say nothing of that of the Pope and
+     Cardinals; and the Pope (Clement VI.), in his subsequent
+     accusations of Rienzi, while very bitter against his
+     citation of the Emperor, is wholly silent on what would have
+     been to the Pontiff the much greater offence of citing
+     himself and the Cardinals.)
+
+     2. The literal act of this citation, as published formally
+     in the Lateran, is extant in Hocsemius, (whence is borrowed,
+     though not at all its length, the speech in the text of our
+     present tale;) and in this document the Pope and his
+     Cardinals are not named in the summons.
+
+     Gibbon’s whole account of Rienzi is superficial and unfair.
+     To the cold and sneering scepticism, which so often deforms
+     the gigantic work of that great writer, allowing nothing for
+     that sincere and urgent enthusiasm which, whether of liberty
+     or religion, is the most common parent of daring action, the
+     great Roman seems but an ambitious and fantastic madman. In
+     Gibbon’s hands what would Cromwell have been? what Vane?
+     what Hampden? The pedant, Julian, with his dirty person and
+     pompous affectation, was Gibbon’s ideal of a great man.)
+
+As Rienzi concluded this bold proclamation of the liberties of Italy,
+the Tuscan ambassadors, and those of some other of the free states,
+murmured low approbation. The ambassadors of those States that affected
+the party of the Emperor looked at each other in silent amaze and
+consternation. The Roman Barons remained with mute lips and downcast
+eyes; only over the aged face of Stephen Colonna settled a smile, half
+of scorn, half of exultation. But the great mass of the citizens were
+caught by words that opened so grand a prospect as the emancipation of
+all Italy: and their reverence of the Tribune’s power and fortune was
+almost that due to a supernatural being; so that they did not pause to
+calculate the means which were to correspond with the boast.
+
+While his eye roved over the crowd, the gorgeous assemblage near him,
+the devoted throng beyond;--as on his ear boomed the murmur of thousands
+and ten thousands, in the space without, from before the Palace of
+Constantine (Palace now his own!) sworn to devote life and fortune to
+his cause; in the flush of prosperity that yet had known no check; in
+the zenith of power, as yet unconscious of reverse, the heart of
+the Tribune swelled proudly: visions of mighty fame and limitless
+dominion,--fame and dominion, once his beloved Rome’s and by him to be
+restored, rushed before his intoxicated gaze; and in the delirious and
+passionate aspirations of the moment, he turned his sword alternately to
+the three quarters of the then known globe, and said, in an abstracted
+voice, as a man in a dream, “In the right of the Roman people this too
+is mine!” (“Questo e mio.”)
+
+Low though the voice, the wild boast was heard by all around as
+distinctly as if borne to them in thunder. And vain it were to describe
+the various sensations it excited; the extravagance would have moved the
+derision of his foes, the grief of his friends, but for the manner of
+the speaker, which, solemn and commanding, hushed for the moment even
+reason and hatred themselves in awe; afterwards remembered and repeated,
+void of the spell they had borrowed from the utterer, the words met the
+cold condemnation of the well-judging; but at that moment all
+things seemed possible to the hero of the people. He spoke as one
+inspired--they trembled and believed; and, as rapt from the spectacle,
+he stood a moment silent, his arm still extended--his dark dilating
+eye fixed upon space--his lip parted--his proud head towering and erect
+above the herd,--his own enthusiasm kindled that of the more humble and
+distant spectators; and there was a deep murmur begun by one, echoed by
+the rest, “The Lord is with Italy and Rienzi!”
+
+The Tribune turned, he saw the Pope’s Vicar astonished, bewildered,
+rising to speak. His sense and foresight returned to him at once, and,
+resolved to drown the dangerous disavowal of the Papal authority
+for this hardihood, which was ready to burst from Raimond’s lips, he
+motioned quickly to the musicians, and the solemn and ringing chant of
+the sacred ceremony prevented the Bishop of Orvietto all occasion of
+self-exoneration or reply.
+
+The moment the ceremony was over, Rienzi touched the Bishop, and
+whispered, “We will explain this to your liking. You feast with us at
+the Lateran.--Your arm.” Nor did he leave the good Bishop’s arm, nor
+trust him to other companionship, until to the stormy sound of horn
+and trumpet, drum and cymbal, and amidst such a concourse as might have
+hailed, on the same spot, the legendary baptism of Constantine, the
+Tribune and his nobles entered the great gates of the Lateran, then the
+Palace of the World.
+
+Thus ended that remarkable ceremony and that proud challenge of the
+Northern Powers, in behalf of the Italian liberties, which, had it been
+afterwards successful, would have been deemed a sublime daring; which,
+unsuccessful, has been construed by the vulgar into a frantic insolence;
+but which, calmly considering all the circumstances that urged on
+the Tribune, and all the power that surrounded him, was not, perhaps,
+altogether so imprudent as it seemed. And, even accepting that
+imprudence in the extremest sense,--by the more penetrating judge of
+the higher order of character, it will probably be considered as the
+magnificent folly of a bold nature, excited at once by position and
+prosperity, by religious credulities, by patriotic aspirings, by
+scholastic visions too suddenly transferred from revery to action,
+beyond that wise and earthward policy which sharpens the weapon ere it
+casts the gauntlet.
+
+
+
+Chapter 4.VII. The Festival.
+
+The Festival of that day was far the most sumptuous hitherto known. The
+hint of Cecco del Vecchio, which so well depicted the character of his
+fellow-citizens, as yet it exists, though not to such excess, in their
+love of holyday pomp and gorgeous show, was not lost upon Rienzi. One
+instance of the universal banqueting (intended, indeed, rather for
+the people than the higher ranks) may illustrate the more than royal
+profusion that prevailed. From morn till eve, streams of wine flowed
+like a fountain from the nostrils of the Horse of the great Equestrian
+Statue of Constantine. The mighty halls of the Lateran palace, open
+to all ranks, were prodigally spread; and the games, sports, and
+buffooneries of the time, were in ample requisition. Apart, the
+Tribunessa, as Nina was rather unclassically entitled, entertained
+the dames of Rome; while the Tribune had so effectually silenced or
+conciliated Raimond, that the good Bishop shared his peculiar table--the
+only one admitted to that honour. As the eye ranged each saloon
+and hall--it beheld the space lined with all the nobility and
+knighthood--the wealth and strength--the learning and the beauty--of the
+Italian metropolis; mingled with ambassadors and noble strangers, even
+from beyond the Alps; (The simple and credulous briographer of
+Rienzi declares his fame to have reached the ears of the Soldan of
+Babylon.)--envoys not only of the free states that had welcomed the rise
+of the Tribune, but of the highborn and haughty tyrants who had first
+derided his arrogance, and now cringed to his power. There, were not
+only the ambassadors of Florence, of Sienna, of Arezzo (which last
+subjected its government to the Tribune,) of Todi, of Spoleto, and of
+countless other lesser towns and states, but of the dark and terrible
+Visconti, prince of Milan; of Obizzo of Ferrara, and the tyrant rulers
+of Verona and Bologna; even the proud and sagacious Malatesta, lord of
+Rimini, whose arm afterwards broke for awhile the power of Montreal,
+at the head of his Great Company, had deputed his representative in his
+most honoured noble. John di Vico, the worst and most malignant despot
+of his day, who had sternly defied the arms of the Tribune, now subdued
+and humbled, was there in person; and the ambassadors of Hungary and of
+Naples mingled with those of Bavaria and Bohemia, whose sovereigns that
+day had been cited to the Roman Judgment Court. The nodding of plumes,
+the glitter of jewels and cloth of gold, the rustling of silks and
+jingle of golden spurs, the waving of banners from the roof, the sounds
+of minstrelsy from the galleries above, all presented a picture of such
+power and state--a court and chivalry of such show--as the greatest of
+the feudal kings might have beheld with a sparkling eye and a swelling
+heart. But at that moment the cause and lord of all that splendour,
+recovered from his late exhilaration, sat moody and abstracted,
+remembering with a thoughtful brow the adventure of the past night,
+and sensible that amongst his gaudiest revellers lurked his intended
+murtherers. Amidst the swell of the minstrelsy and the pomp of the
+crowd, he felt that treason scowled beside him; and the image of the
+skeleton obtruding, as of old, its grim thought of death upon the feast,
+darkened the ruby of the wine, and chilled the glitter of the scene.
+
+It was while the feast was loudest that Rienzi’s page was seen gliding
+through the banquet, and whispering several of the nobles; each bowed
+low, but changed colour as he received the message.
+
+“My Lord Savelli,” said Orsini, himself trembling, “bear yourself more
+bravely. This must be meant in honour, not revenge. I suppose your
+summons corresponds with mine.”
+
+“He--he--asks--asks--me to supper at the Capitol; a fri-endly
+meeting--(pest on his friendship!)--after the noise of the day.”
+
+“The words addressed also to me!” said Orsini, turning to one of the
+Frangipani.
+
+Those who received the summons soon broke from the feast, and collected
+in a group, eagerly conferring. Some were for flight, but flight was
+confession; their number, rank, long and consecrated impunity, reassured
+them, and they resolved to obey. The old Colonna, the sole innocent
+Baron of the invited guests, was also the only one who refused the
+invitation. “Tush!” said he, peevishly; “here is feasting enough for one
+day! Tell the Tribune that ere he sups I hope to be asleep. Grey hairs
+cannot encounter all this fever of festivity.”
+
+As Rienzi rose to depart, which he did early, for the banquet took place
+while yet morning, Raimond, eager to escape and confer with some of his
+spiritual friends, as to the report he should make to the Pontiff, was
+beginning his expressions of farewell, when the merciless Tribune said
+to him gravely--
+
+“My Lord, we want you on urgent business at the Capitol. A prisoner--a
+trial--perhaps (he added with his portentous and prophetic frown) an
+execution waits us! Come.”
+
+“Verily, Tribune,” stammered the good Bishop, “this is a strange time
+for execution!”
+
+“Last night was a time yet more strange.--Come.”
+
+There was something in the way in which the final word was pronounced,
+that Raimond could not resist. He sighed, muttered, twitched his robes,
+and followed the Tribune. As he passed through the halls, the company
+rose on all sides. Rienzi repaid their salutations with smiles and
+whispers of frank courtesy and winning address. Young as he yet was,
+and of a handsome and noble presence, that took every advantage from
+splendid attire, and yet more from an appearance of intellectual command
+in his brow and eye, which the less cultivated signors of that dark
+age necessarily wanted--he glittered through the court as one worthy to
+form, and fitted to preside over, it; and his supposed descent from the
+Teuton Emperor, which, since his greatness, was universally bruited and
+believed abroad, seemed undeniably visible to the foreign lords in the
+majesty of his mien and the easy blandness of his address.
+
+“My Lord Prefect,” said he to a dark and sullen personage in black
+velvet, the powerful and arrogant John di Vico, prefect of Rome, “we are
+rejoiced to find so noble a guest at Rome: we must repay the courtesy by
+surprising you in your own palace ere long;--nor will you, Signor (as he
+turned to the envoy from Tivoli,) refuse us a shelter amidst your groves
+and waterfalls ere the vintage be gathered. Methinks Rome, united with
+sweet Tivoli, grows reconciled to the Muses. Your suit is carried,
+Master Venoni: the council recognises its justice; but I reserved
+the news for this holyday--you do not blame me, I trust.” This was
+whispered, with a half-affectionate frankness, to a worthy citizen, who,
+finding himself amidst so many of the great, would have shrunk from
+the notice of the Tribune; but it was the policy of Rienzi to pay an
+especial and marked attention to those engaged in commercial pursuits.
+As, after tarrying a moment or two with the merchant, he passed on, the
+tall person of the old Colonna caught his eye--
+
+“Signor,” said he, with a profound inclination of his head, but with a
+slight emphasis of tone, “you will not fail us this evening.”
+
+“Tribune--” began the Colonna.
+
+“We receive no excuse,” interrupted the Tribune, hastily, and passed on.
+
+He halted for a few moments before a small group of men plainly attired,
+who were watching him with intense interest; for they, too, were
+scholars, and in Rienzi’s rise they saw another evidence of that
+wonderful and sudden power which intellect had begun to assume over
+brute force. With these, as if abruptly mingled with congenial spirits,
+the Tribune relaxed all the gravity of his brow. Happier, perhaps, his
+living career--more unequivocal his posthumous renown--had his objects
+as his tastes been theirs!
+
+“Ah, carissime!” said he to one, whose arm he drew within his own,--“and
+how proceeds thy interpretation of the old marbles?--half unravelled? I
+rejoice to hear it! Confer with me as of old, I pray thee. Tomorrow--no,
+nor the day after, but next week--we will have a tranquil evening. Dear
+poet, your ode transported me to the days of Horace; yet, methinks, we
+do wrong to reject the vernacular for the Latin. You shake your head?
+Well, Petrarch thinks with you: his great epic moves with the stride
+of a giant--so I hear from his friend and envoy,--and here he is. My
+Laeluis, is that not your name with Petrarch? How shall I express my
+delight at his comforting, his inspiring letter? Alas! he overrates not
+my intentions, but my power. Of this hereafter.”
+
+A slight shade darkened the Tribune’s brow at these words: but moving
+on, a long line of nobles and princes on either side, he regained his
+self-possession, and the dignity he had dropped with his former equals.
+Thus he passed through the crowd, and gradually disappeared.
+
+“He bears him bravely,” said one, as the revellers reseated themselves.
+“Noticed you the ‘we’--the style royal?”
+
+“But it must be owned that he lords it well,” said the ambassador of the
+Visconti: “less pride would be cringing to his haughty court.”
+
+“Why,” said a professor of Bologna, “why is the Tribune called proud? I
+see no pride in him.”
+
+“Nor I,” said a wealthy jeweller.
+
+While these, and yet more contradictory, comments followed the exit of
+the Tribune, he passed into the saloon, where Nina presided; and here
+his fair person and silver tongue (“Suavis colorataeque sententiae,”
+ according to the description of Petrarch) won him a more general favour
+with the matrons than he experienced with their lords, and not a little
+contrasted the formal and nervous compliments of the good Bishop, who
+served him on such occasions with an excellent foil.
+
+But as soon as these ceremonies were done, and Rienzi mounted his horse,
+his manner changed at once into a stern and ominous severity.
+
+“Vicar,” said he, abruptly, to the Bishop, “we might well need your
+presence. Learn that at the Capitol now sits the Council in judgment
+upon an assassin. Last night, but for Heaven’s mercy, I should have
+fallen a victim to a hireling’s dagger, Knew you aught of this?”
+
+And he turned so sharply on the Bishop, that the poor canonist nearly
+dropped from his horse in surprise and terror.
+
+“I,--” said he.
+
+Rienzi smiled--“No, good my Lord Bishop! I see you are of no murtherer’s
+mould. But to continue:--that I might not appear to act in mine own
+cause, I ordered the prisoner to be tried in my absence. In his trial
+(you marked the letter brought me at our banquet?)--”
+
+“Ay, and you changed colour.”
+
+“Well I might: in his trial, I say, he has confessed that nine of
+the loftiest lords of Rome were his instigators. They sup with me
+tonight!--Vicar, forwards!”
+
+
+
+
+BOOK V. THE CRISIS.
+
+     “Questo ha acceso ‘i fuoco e la fiamma laquale non la par
+     spotegnere.”--“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. i. cap. 29.
+
+     “He has kindled fire and flames which he will not be able to
+     extinguish.”--“Life of Cola di Rienzi”.
+
+
+
+Chapter 5.I. The Judgment of the Tribune.
+
+The brief words of the Tribune to Stephen Colonna, though they sharpened
+the rage of the proud old noble, were such as he did not on reflection
+deem it prudent to disobey. Accordingly, at the appointed hour, he found
+himself in one of the halls of the Capitol, with a gallant party of his
+peers. Rienzi received them with more than his usual graciousness.
+
+They sate down to the splendid board in secret uneasiness and alarm,
+as they saw that, with the exception of Stephen Colonna, none, save the
+conspirators, had been invited to the banquet. Rienzi, regardless
+of their silence and abstraction, was more than usually gay--the old
+Colonna more than usually sullen.
+
+“We fear we have but ill pleased you, my Lord Colonna, by our summons.
+Once, methinks, we might more easily provoke you to a smile.”
+
+“Situations are changed, Tribune, since you were my guest.”
+
+“Why, scarcely so. I have risen, but you have not fallen. Ye walk the
+streets day and night in security and peace; your lives are safe from
+the robber, and your palaces no longer need bars and battlements to
+shield you from your fellow-citizens. I have risen, but we all have
+risen--from barbarous disorder into civilized life! My Lord Gianni
+Colonna, whom we have made Captain over Campagna, you will not refuse a
+cup to the Buono Stato;--nor think we mistrust your valour, when we say,
+that we rejoice Rome hath no enemies to attest your generalship.”
+
+“Methinks,” quoth the old Colonna, bluntly, “we shall have enemies
+enough from Bohemia and Bavaria, ere the next harvest be green.”
+
+“And, if so,” replied the Tribune, calmly, “foreign foes are better than
+civil strife.”
+
+“Ay, if we have money in the treasury; which is but little likely, if we
+have many more such holydays.”
+
+“You are ungracious, my Lord,” said the Tribune; “and, besides, you are
+more uncomplimentary to Rome than to ourselves. What citizen would not
+part with gold to buy fame and liberty?”
+
+“I know very few in Rome that would,” answered the Baron. “But tell
+me, Tribune, you who are a notable casuist, which is the best for a
+state--that its governor should be over-thrifty or over-lavish?”
+
+“I refer the question to my friend, Luca di Savelli,” replied Rienzi.
+“He is a grand philosopher, and I wot well could explain a much knottier
+riddle, which we will presently submit to his acumen.”
+
+The Barons, who had been much embarrassed by the bold speech of the
+old Colonna, all turned their eyes to Savelli, who answered with more
+composure than was anticipated.
+
+“The question admits a double reply. He who is born a ruler, and
+maintains a foreign army, governing by fear, should be penurious. He who
+is made ruler, who courts the people, and would reign by love, must win
+their affection by generosity, and dazzle their fancies by pomp. Such, I
+believe, is the usual maxim in Italy, which is rife in all experience of
+state wisdom.”
+
+The Barons unanimously applauded the discreet reply of Savelli,
+excepting only the old Colonna.
+
+“Yet pardon me, Tribune,” said Stephen, “if I depart from the
+courtier-like decision of our friend, and opine, though with all due
+respect, that even a friar’s coarse serge, [‘Vestimenta da Bizoco,’
+was the phrase used by Colonna; a phrase borrowed from certain heretics
+(bizocchi) who affected extreme austerity; afterwards the word passed
+into a proverb.--See the comments of Zerfirino Re, in ‘Vita di Cola di
+Rienzi’.) the parade of humility, would better become thee, than this
+gaudy pomp, the parade of pride!” So saying, he touched the large loose
+sleeve fringed with gold, of the Tribune’s purple robe.
+
+“Hush, father!” said Gianni, Colonna’s son, colouring at the unprovoked
+rudeness and dangerous candour of the veteran.
+
+“Nay, it matters not,” said the Tribune, with affected indifference,
+though his lip quivered, and his eye shot fire; and then, after a pause,
+he resumed with an awful smile--“If the Colonna love the serge of the
+friar, he may see enough of it ere we part. And now, my Lord Savelli,
+for my question, which I pray you listen to; it demands all your wit.
+Is it best for a State’s Ruler to be over-forgiving, or over-just? Take
+breath to answer: you look faint--you grow pale--you tremble--you cover
+your face! Traitor and assassin, your conscience betrays you! My Lords,
+relieve your accomplice, and take up the answer.”
+
+“Nay, if we are discovered,” said the Orsini, rising in despair, “we
+will not fall unavenged--die, tyrant!”
+
+He rushed to the place where Rienzi stood--for the Tribune also
+rose,--and made a thrust at his breast with his dagger; the steel
+pierced the purple robe, yet glanced harmlessly away--and the Tribune
+regarded the disappointed murtherer with a scornful smile.
+
+“Till yesternight, I never dreamt that under the robe of state I should
+need the secret corselet,” said he. “My Lords, you have taught me a dark
+lesson, and I thank ye.”
+
+So saying, he clapped his hands, and suddenly the folding doors at the
+end of the hall flew open, and discovered the saloon of the Council
+hung with silk of a blood-red, relieved by rays of white,--the emblem of
+crime and death. At a long table sate the councillors in their robes; at
+the bar stood a ruffian form, which the banqueters too well recognised.
+
+“Bid Rodolf of Saxony approach!” said the Tribune.
+
+And led by two guards, the robber entered the hall.
+
+“Wretch, you then betrayed us!” said one of the Frangipani.
+
+“Rodolph of Saxony goes ever to the highest bidder,” returned the
+miscreant, with a horrid grin. “You gave me gold, and I would have slain
+your foe; your foe defeated me; he gives me life, and life is a greater
+boon than gold!”
+
+“Ye confess your crime, my Lords! Silent! dumb! Where is your wit,
+Savelli? Where your pride, Rinaldo di Orsini? Gianni Colonna, is your
+chivalry come to this?”
+
+“Oh!” continued Rienzi, with deep and passionate bitterness; “oh, my
+Lords, will nothing conciliate you--not to me, but to Rome? What hath
+been my sin against you and yours? Disbanded ruffians (such as your
+accuser)--dismantled fortresses--impartial law--what man, in all the
+wild revolutions of Italy, sprung from the people, ever yielded less to
+their licence? Not a coin of your coffers touched by wanton power,--not
+a hair of your heads harmed by private revenge. You, Gianni Colonna,
+loaded with honours, intrusted with command--you, Alphonso di
+Frangipani, endowed with new principalities,--did the Tribune remember
+one insult he received from you as the Plebeian? You accuse
+my pride;--was it my fault that ye cringed and fawned upon my
+power,--flattery on your lips, poison at your hearts? No, I have not
+offended you; let the world know, that in me you aimed at liberty,
+justice, law, order, the restored grandeur, the renovated rights of
+Rome! At these, the Abstract and the Immortal--not at this frail form,
+ye struck;--by the divinity of these ye are defeated;--for the outraged
+majesty of these,--criminals and victims,--ye must die!”
+
+With these words, uttered with the tone and air that would have become
+the loftiest spirit of the ancient city, Rienzi, with a majestic step,
+swept from the chamber into the Hall of Council. (The guilt of the
+Barons in their designed assassination of Rienzi, though hastily
+slurred over by Gibbon, and other modern writers, is clearly attested
+by Muratori, the Bolognese Chronicle &c.--They even confessed the crime.
+(See Cron. Estens: Muratori, tom. xviii. page 442.))
+
+All that night the conspirators remained within that room, the doors
+locked and guarded; the banquet unremoved, and its splendour strangely
+contrasting the mood of the guests.
+
+The utter prostration and despair of these dastard criminals--so unlike
+the knightly nobles of France and England, has been painted by the
+historian in odious and withering colours. The old Colonna alone
+sustained his impetuous and imperious character. He strode to and fro
+the room like a lion in his cage, uttering loud threats of resentment
+and defiance; and beating at the door with his clenched hands, demanding
+egress, and proclaiming the vengeance of the Pontiff.
+
+The dawn came, slow and grey upon that agonized assembly: and just as
+the last star faded from the melancholy horizon, and by the wan and
+comfortless heaven, they regarded each other’s faces, almost spectral
+with anxiety and fear, the great bell of the Capitol sounded the notes
+in which they well recognised the chime of death! It was then that the
+door opened, and a drear and gloomy procession of cordeliers, one to
+each Baron, entered the apartment! At that spectacle, we are told, the
+terror of the conspirators was so great, that it froze up the very power
+of speech. (“Diventarono si gelati, che non poteno favellare.”) The
+greater part at length, deeming all hope over, resigned themselves
+to their ghostly confessors. But when the friar appointed to Stephen
+approached that passionate old man, he waved his hand impatiently, and
+said--“Tease me not! Tease me not!”
+
+“Nay, son, prepare for the awful hour.”
+
+“Son, indeed!” quoth the Baron. “I am old enough to be thy grandsire;
+and for the rest, tell him who sent thee, that I neither am prepared
+for death, nor will prepare! I have made up my mind to live these twenty
+years, and longer too;--if I catch not my death with the cold of this
+accursed night.”
+
+Just at that moment a cry that almost seemed to rend the Capitol asunder
+was heard, as, with one voice, the multitude below yelled forth--
+
+“Death to the conspirators!--death! death!”
+
+While this the scene in that hall, the Tribune issued from his chamber,
+in which he had been closeted with his wife and sister. The noble spirit
+of the one, the tears and grief of the other (who saw at one fell stroke
+perish the house of her betrothed,) had not worked without effect upon
+a temper, stern and just indeed, but naturally averse from blood; and a
+heart capable of the loftiest species of revenge.
+
+He entered the Council, still sitting, with a calm brow, and even a
+cheerful eye.
+
+“Pandulfo di Guido,” he said, turning to that citizen, “you are right;
+you spoke as a wise man and a patriot, when you said that to cut off
+with one blow, however merited, the noblest heads of Rome would endanger
+the State, sully our purple with an indelible stain, and unite the
+nobility of Italy against us.”
+
+“Such, Tribune, was my argument, though the Council have decided
+otherwise.”
+
+“Hearken to the shouts of the populace, you cannot appease their honest
+warmth,” said the demagogue Baroncelli.
+
+Many of the Council murmured applause.
+
+“Friends,” said the Tribune, with a solemn and earnest aspect, “let
+not Posterity say that Liberty loves blood; let us for once adopt
+the example and imitate the mercy of our great Redeemer! We have
+triumphed--let us forbear; we are saved--let us forgive!”
+
+The speech of the Tribune was supported by Pandulfo, and others of the
+more mild and moderate policy; and for a short but animated discussion,
+the influence of Rienzi prevailed, and the sentence of death was
+revoked, but by a small majority.
+
+“And now,” said Rienzi, “let us be more than just; let us be generous.
+Speak--and boldly. Do any of ye think that I have been over-hard,
+over-haughty with these stubborn spirits?--I read your answer in your
+brows!--I have! Do any of ye think this error of mind may have stirred
+them to their dark revenge? Do any of you deem that they partake, as we
+do, of human nature,--that they are sensible to kindness, that they are
+softened by generosity,--that they can be tamed and disarmed by such
+vengeance as is dictated to noble foes by Christian laws?”
+
+“I think,” said Pandulfo, after a pause, “that it will not be in human
+nature, if the men you pardon, thus offending and thus convicted, again
+attempt your life!”
+
+“Methinks,” said Rienzi, “we must do even more than pardon. The first
+great Caesar, when he did not crush a foe, strove to convert him to a
+friend--”
+
+“And perished by the attempt,” said Baroncelli, abruptly.
+
+Rienzi started and changed colour.
+
+“If you would save these wretched prisoners, better not wait till the
+fury of the mob become ungovernable,” whispered Pandulfo.
+
+The Tribune roused himself from his revery.
+
+“Pandulfo,” said he, in the same tone, “my heart misgives me--the brood
+of serpents are in my hand--I do not strangle them--they may sting me to
+death, in return for my mercy--it is their instinct! No matter: it shall
+not be said that the Roman Tribune bought with so many lives his own
+safety: nor shall it be written upon my grave-stone, ‘Here lies the
+coward, who did not dare forgive.’ What, ho! there, officers, unclose
+the doors! My masters, let us acquaint the prisoners with their
+sentence.”
+
+With that, Rienzi seated himself on the chair of state, at the head
+of the table, and the sun, now risen, cast its rays over the blood-red
+walls, in which the Barons, marshalled in order into the chamber,
+thought to read their fate.
+
+“My Lords,” said the Tribune, “ye have offended the laws of God and man;
+but God teaches man the quality of mercy. Learn at last, that I bear a
+charmed life. Nor is he whom, for high purposes, Heaven hath raised from
+the cottage to the popular throne, without invisible aid and spiritual
+protection. If hereditary monarchs are deemed sacred, how much more one
+in whose power the divine hand hath writ its witness! Yes, over him who
+lives but for his country, whose greatness is his country’s gift, whose
+life is his country’s liberty, watch the souls of the just, and the
+unsleeping eyes of the sworded seraphim! Taught by your late failure and
+your present peril, bid your anger against me cease; respect the laws,
+revere the freedom of your city, and think that no state presents a
+nobler spectacle than men born as ye are--a patrician and illustrious
+order--using your power to protect your city, your wealth to nurture its
+arts, your chivalry to protect its laws! Take back your swords--and the
+first man who strikes against the liberties of Rome, let him be your
+victim; even though that victim be the Tribune. Your cause has been
+tried--your sentence is pronounced. Renew your oath to forbear all
+hostility, private or public, against the government and the magistrates
+of Rome, and ye are pardoned--ye are free!”
+
+Amazed, bewildered, the Barons mechanically bent the knee: the friars
+who had received their confessions, administered the appointed oath; and
+while, with white lips, they muttered the solemn words, they heard below
+the roar of the multitude for their blood.
+
+This ceremony ended, the Tribune passed into the banquet-hall, which
+conducted to a balcony, whence he was accustomed to address the people;
+and never, perhaps, was his wonderful mastery over the passions of an
+audience (ad persuadendum efficax dictator, quoque dulcis ac lepidus)
+(Petrarch of Rienzi.) more greatly needed or more eminently shown, than
+on that day; for the fury of the people was at its height, and it was
+long ere he succeeded in turning it aside. Before he concluded, however,
+every wave of the wild sea lay hushed.--The orator lived to stand on the
+same spot, to plead for a life nobler than those he now saved,--and to
+plead unheard and in vain!
+
+As soon as the Tribune saw the favourable moment had arrived, the Barons
+were admitted into the balcony:--in the presence of the breathless
+thousands, they solemnly pledged themselves to protect the Good Estate.
+And thus the morning which seemed to dawn upon their execution witnessed
+their reconciliation with the people.
+
+The crowd dispersed, the majority soothed and pleased;--the more
+sagacious, vexed and dissatisfied.
+
+“He has but increased the smoke and the flame which he was not able
+to extinguish,” growled Cecco del Vecchio; and the smith’s appropriate
+saying passed into a proverb and a prophecy.
+
+Meanwhile, the Tribune, conscious at least that he had taken the more
+generous course, broke up the Council, and retired to the chamber
+where Nina and his sister waited him. These beautiful young women had
+conceived for each other the tenderest affection. And their differing
+characters, both of mind and feature, seemed by contrast to heighten the
+charms of both; as in a skilful jewellery, the pearl and diamond borrow
+beauty from each other.
+
+And as Irene now turned her pale countenance and streaming eyes from
+the bosom to which she had clung for support, the timid sister, anxious,
+doubtful, wistful;--the proud wife, sanguine and assured, as if never
+diffident of the intentions nor of the power of her Rienzi:--the
+contrast would have furnished to a painter no unworthy incarnation of
+the Love that hopeth, and the Love that feareth, all things.
+
+“Be cheered, my sweet sister,” said the Tribune, first caught by Irene’s
+imploring look; “not a hair on the heads of those who boast the name of
+him thou lovest so well is injured.--Thank Heaven,” as his sister,
+with a low cry, rushed into his arms, “that it was against my life they
+conspired! Had it been another Roman’s, mercy might have been a crime!
+Dearest, may Adrian love thee half as well as I; and yet, my sister and
+my child, none can know thy soft soul like he who watched over it since
+its first blossom expanded to the sun. My poor brother! had he lived,
+your counsel had been his; and methinks his gentle spirit often whispers
+away the sternness which, otherwise, would harden over mine. Nina, my
+queen, my inspirer, my monitor--ever thus let thy heart, masculine in my
+distress, be woman’s in my power; and be to me, with Irene, upon earth,
+what my brother is in heaven!”
+
+The Tribune, exhausted by the trials of the night, retired for a few
+hours to rest; and as Nina, encircling him within her arms, watched over
+his noble countenance--care hushed, ambition laid at rest, its serenity
+had something almost of sublime. And tears of that delicious pride,
+which woman sheds for the hero of her dreams, stood heavy in the wife’s
+eyes, as she rejoiced more, in the deep stillness of her heart, at the
+prerogative, alone hers, of sharing his solitary hours, than in all the
+rank to which his destiny had raised her, and which her nature fitted
+her at once to adorn and to enjoy. In that calm and lonely hour she
+beguiled her heart by waking dreams, vainer than the sleeper’s; and
+pictured to herself the long career of glory, the august decline of
+peace, which were to await her lord.
+
+And while she thus watched and thus dreamed, the cloud, as yet no bigger
+than a man’s hand, darkened the horizon of a fate whose sunshine was
+well-nigh past!
+
+
+
+Chapter 5.II. The Flight.
+
+Fretting his proud heart, as a steed frets on the bit, old Colonna
+regained his palace. To him, innocent of the proposed crime of his kin
+and compeers, the whole scene of the night and morning presented but one
+feature of insult and degradation. Scarce was he in his palace, ere he
+ordered couriers, in whom he knew he could confide, to be in preparation
+for his summons. “This to Avignon,” said he to himself, as he concluded
+an epistle to the Pontiff.--“We will see whether the friendship of the
+great house of the Colonna will outweigh the frantic support of the
+rabble’s puppet.--This to Palestrina,--the rock is inaccessible!--This
+to John di Vico, he may be relied upon, traitor though he be!--This to
+Naples; the Colonna will disown the Tribune’s ambassador, if he throw
+not up the trust and hasten hither, not a lover but a soldier!--and may
+this find Walter de Montreal! Ah, a precious messenger he sent us, but
+I will forgive all--all, for a thousand lances.” And as with trembling
+hands he twined the silk round his letters, he bade his pages invite to
+his board, next day, all the signors who had been implicated with him on
+the previous night.
+
+The Barons came--far more enraged at the disgrace of pardon, than
+grateful for the boon of mercy. Their fears combined with their pride;
+and the shouts of the mob, the whine of the cordeliers, still ringing
+in their ears, they deemed united resistance the only course left to
+protect their lives, and avenge their affront.
+
+To them the public pardon of the Tribune seemed only a disguise to
+private revenge. All they believed was, that Rienzi did not dare to
+destroy them in the face of day; forgetfulness and forgiveness appeared
+to them as the means designed to lull their vigilance, while abasing
+their pride: and the knowledge of crime detected forbade them all hope
+of safety. The hand of their own assassin might be armed against
+them, or they might be ruined singly, one by one, as was the common
+tyrant-craft of that day. Singularly enough, Luca di Savelli was the
+most urgent for immediate rebellion. The fear of death made the coward
+brave.
+
+Unable even to conceive the romantic generosity of the Tribune, the
+Barons were yet more alarmed when, the next day, Rienzi, summoning them
+one by one to a private audience, presented them with gifts, and bade
+them forget the past: excused himself rather than them, and augmented
+their offices and honours.
+
+In the Quixotism of a heart to which royalty was natural, he thought
+that there was no medium course; and that the enmity he would not
+silence by death, he could crush by confidence and favours. Such conduct
+from a born king to hereditary inferiors might have been successful; but
+the generosity of one who has abruptly risen over his lords is but the
+ostentation of insult. Rienzi in this, and, perhaps, in forgiveness
+itself, committed a fatal error of policy, which the dark sagacity of a
+Visconti, or, in later times, of a Borgia, would never have perpetrated.
+But it was the error of a bright and a great mind.
+
+Nina was seated in the grand saloon of the palace--it was the day of
+reception for the Roman ladies.
+
+The attendance was so much less numerous than usual that it startled
+her, and she thought there was a coldness and restraint in the manner of
+the visitors present, which somewhat stung her vanity.
+
+“I trust we have not offended the Signora Colonna,” she said to the Lady
+of Gianni, Stephen’s son. “She was wont to grace our halls, and we miss
+much her stately presence.”
+
+“Madam, my Lord’s mother is unwell!”
+
+“Is she so? We will send for her more welcome news. Methinks we are
+deserted today.”
+
+As she spoke, she carelessly dropped her handkerchief--the haughty dame
+of the Colonna bent not--not a hand stirred; and the Tribunessa looked
+for a moment surprised and disconcerted. Her eye roving over the throng,
+she perceived several, whom she knew as the wives of Rienzi’s foes,
+whispering together with meaning glances, and more than one malicious
+sneer at her mortification was apparent. She recovered herself
+instantly, and said to the Signora Frangipani, with a smile, “May we be
+a partaker of your mirth? You seem to have chanced on some gay thought,
+which it were a sin not to share freely.”
+
+The lady she addressed coloured slightly, and replied, “We were
+thinking, madam, that had the Tribune been present, his vow of
+knighthood would have been called into requisition.”
+
+“And how, Signora?”
+
+“It would have been his pleasing duty, madam, to succour the
+distressed.” And the Signora glanced significantly on the kerchief still
+on the floor.
+
+“You designed me, then, this slight, Signoras,” said Nina, rising with
+great majesty. “I know not whether your Lords are equally bold to the
+Tribune; but this I know, that the Tribune’s wife can in future forgive
+your absence. Four centuries ago, a Frangipani might well have stooped
+to a Raselli; today, the dame of a Roman Baron might acknowledge a
+superior in the wife of the first magistrate of Rome. I compel not your
+courtesy, nor seek it.”
+
+“We have gone too far,” whispered one of the ladies to her neighbour.
+“Perhaps the enterprise may not succeed; and then--”
+
+Further remark was cut short by the sudden entrance of the Tribune. He
+entered with great haste, and on his brow was that dark frown which none
+ever saw unquailing.
+
+“How, fair matrons!” said he, looking round the room with a rapid
+glance, “ye have not deserted us yet? By the blessed cross, your Lords
+pay a compliment to our honour, to leave us such lovely hostages, or
+else, God’s truth, they are ungrateful husbands. So, madam,” turning
+sharp round to the wife of Gianni Colonna, “your husband is fled to
+Palestrina; yours, Signora Orsini, to Marino; yours with him, fair
+bride of Frangipani,--ye came hither to--. But ye are sacred even from a
+word!”
+
+The Tribune paused a moment, evidently striving to suppress his emotion,
+as he observed the terror he had excited--his eye fell upon Nina, who,
+forgetting her previous vexation, regarded him with anxious amazement.
+“Yes,” said he to her, “you alone, perhaps, of this fair assemblage,
+know not that the nobles whom I lately released from the headsman’s
+gripe are a second time forsworn. They have left home in the dead of the
+night, and already the Heralds proclaim them traitors and rebels. Rienzi
+forgives no more!”
+
+“Tribune,” exclaimed the Signora Frangipani, who had more bold blood in
+her veins than her whole house, “were I of thine own sex, I would
+cast the words, Traitor and Rebel, given to my Lord, in thine own
+teeth!--Proud man, the Pontiff soon will fulfil that office!”
+
+“Your Lord is blest with a dove, fair one,” said the Tribune,
+scornfully. “Ladies, fear not, while Rienzi lives, the wife even of his
+worst foe is safe and honoured. The crowd will be here anon; our guards
+shall attend ye home in safety, or this palace may be your shelter--for,
+I warn ye, that your Lords have rushed into a great peril. And ere many
+days be past, the streets of Rome may be as rivers of blood.”
+
+“We accept your offer, Tribune,” said the Signora Frangipani, who was
+touched, and, in spite of herself, awed by the Tribune’s manner. And
+as she spoke, she dropped on one knee, picked up the kerchief, and,
+presenting it respectfully to Nina, said, “Madam, forgive me. I alone of
+these present respect you more in danger than in pride.”
+
+“And I,” returned Nina, as she leaned in graceful confidence on Rienzi’s
+arm, “I reply, that if there be danger, the more need of pride.”
+
+All that day and all that night rang the great bell of the Capitol. But
+on the following daybreak, the assemblage was thin and scattered; there
+was a great fear stricken into the hearts of the people, by the flight
+of the Barons, and they bitterly and loudly upbraided Rienzi for sparing
+them to this opportunity of mischief. That day the rumours continued;
+the murmurers for the most part remained within their houses, or
+assembled in listless and discontented troops. The next day dawned; the
+same lethargy prevailed. The Tribune summoned his Council, (which was a
+Representative assembly.)
+
+“Shall we go forth as we are,” said he, “with such few as will follow
+the Roman standard!”
+
+“No,” replied Pandulfo, who, by nature timid, was yet well acquainted
+with the disposition of the people, and therefore a sagacious
+counsellor. “Let us hold back; let us wait till the rebels commit
+themselves by some odious outrage, and then hatred will unite the
+waverers, and resentment lead them.”
+
+This counsel prevailed; the event proved its wisdom. To give excuse and
+dignity to the delay, messengers were sent to Marino, whither the chief
+part of the Barons had fled, and which was strongly fortified, demanding
+their immediate return.
+
+On the day on which the haughty refusal of the insurgents was brought
+to Rienzi, came fugitives from all parts of the Campagna. Houses
+burned--convents and vineyards pillaged--cattle and horses
+seized--attested the warfare practised by the Barons, and animated
+the drooping Romans, by showing the mercies they might expect for
+themselves. That evening, of their own accord, the Romans rushed into
+the place of the Capitol:--Rinaldo Orsini had seized a fortress in the
+immediate neighbourhood of Rome, and had set fire to a tower, the flames
+of which were visible to the city. The tenant of the tower, a noble
+lady, old and widowed, was burnt alive. Then rose the wild clamour--the
+mighty wrath--the headlong fury. The hour for action had arrived.
+(“Ardea terre, arse la Castelluzza e case, e uomini. Non si schifo
+di ardere una nobile donna Vedova, veterana, in una torre. Per tale
+crudeltade li Romani furo piu irati,” &c.--“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”,
+lib. i. cap. 20.)
+
+
+
+Chapter 5.III. The Battle.
+
+“I have dreamed a dream,” cried Rienzi, leaping from his bed. “The
+lion-hearted Boniface, foe and victim of the Colonna, hath appeared
+to me, and promised victory. (“In questa notte mi e apparito Santo
+Bonifacio Papa,” &c.--“Vita di Cola di Rienzi” cap. 32.) Nina, prepare
+the laurel-wreath: this day victory shall be ours!”
+
+“O, Rienzi! today?”
+
+“Yes! hearken to the bell--hearken to the trumpet. Nay, I hear even now
+the impatient hoofs of my white warsteed! One kiss, Nina, ere I arm for
+victory,--stay--comfort poor Irene; let me not see her--she weeps that
+my foes are akin to her betrothed; I cannot brook her tears; I watched
+her in her cradle. Today, I must have no weakness on my soul! Knaves,
+twice perjured!--wolves, never to be tamed!--shall I meet ye at last
+sword to sword? Away, sweet Nina, to Irene, quick! Adrian is at Naples,
+and were he in Rome, her lover is sacred, though fifty times a Colonna.”
+
+With that, the Tribune passed into his wardrobe, where his pages and
+gentlemen attended with his armour. “I hear, by our spies,” said he,
+“that they will be at our gates ere noon--four thousand foot, seven
+hundred horsemen. We will give them a hearty welcome, my masters. How,
+Angelo Villani, my pretty page, what do you out of your lady’s service?”
+
+“I would fain see a warrior arm for Rome,” said the boy, with a boy’s
+energy.
+
+“Bless thee, my child; there spoke one of Rome’s true sons!”
+
+“And the Signora has promised me that I shall go with her guard to the
+gates, to hear the news--”
+
+“And report the victory?--thou shalt. But they must not let thee come
+within shaft-shot. What! my Pandulfo, thou in mail?”
+
+“Rome requires every man,” said the citizen, whose weak nerves were
+strung by the contagion of the general enthusiasm.
+
+“She doth--and once more I am proud to be a Roman. Now, gentles, the
+Dalmaticum: (A robe or mantle of white, borne by Rienzi; at one time
+belonging to the sacerdotal office, afterwards an emblem of empire.)
+I would that every foe should know Rienzi; and, by the Lord of Hosts,
+fighting at the head of the imperial people, I have a right to the
+imperial robe. Are the friars prepared? Our march to the gates shall be
+preceded by a solemn hymn--so fought our sires.”
+
+“Tribune, John di Vico is arrived with a hundred horse to support the
+Good Estate.”
+
+“He hath!--The Lord has delivered us then of a foe, and given our
+dungeons a traitor!--Bring hither yon casket, Angelo.--So--Hark thee!
+Pandulfo, read this letter.”
+
+The citizens read, with surprise and consternation, the answer of the
+wily Prefect to the Colonna’s epistle.
+
+“He promises the Baron to desert to him in the battle, with the
+Prefect’s banner,” said Pandulfo. “What is to be done?”
+
+“What!--take my signet--here--see him lodged forthwith in the prison
+of the Capitol. Bid his train leave Rome, and if found acting with the
+Barons, warn them that their Lord dies. Go--see to it without a moment’s
+delay. Meanwhile, to the chapel--we will hear mass.”
+
+Within an hour the Roman army--vast, miscellaneous--old men and boys,
+mingled with the vigour of life, were on their march to the Gate of San
+Lorenzo; of their number, which amounted to twenty thousand foot,
+not one-sixth could be deemed men-at-arms; but the cavalry were well
+equipped, and consisted of the lesser Barons and the more opulent
+citizens. At the head of these rode the Tribune in complete armour,
+and wearing on his casque a wreath of oak and olive leaves, wrought in
+silver. Before him waved the great gonfalon of Rome, while in front of
+this multitudinous array marched a procession of monks, of the order of
+St. Francis, (for the ecclesiastical body of Rome went chiefly with
+the popular spirit, and its enthusiastic leader,)--slowly chanting the
+following hymn, which was made inexpressibly startling and imposing at
+the close of each stanza, by the clash of arms, the blast of trumpets,
+and the deep roll of the drum; which formed, as it were, a martial
+chorus to the song:--
+
+Roman War-song.
+
+     1.
+
+     March, march for your hearths and your altars!
+     Cursed to all time be the dastard that falters,
+     Never on earth may his sins be forgiven
+     Death on his soul, shut the portals of heaven!
+     A curse on his heart, and a curse on his brain!--
+     Who strikes not for Rome, shall to Rome be her Cain!
+     Breeze fill our banners, sun gild our spears,
+     Spirito Santo, Cavaliers!
+
+     (Rienzi’s word of battle was “Spirito Santo Cavaliere”, i.e.
+     Cavalier in the singular number.  The plural number has been
+     employed in the text, as somewhat more animated, and
+     therefore better adapted to the kind of poetry into the
+     service of which the watchword has been pressed.)
+
+     Blow, trumpets, blow,
+     Blow, trumpets, blow,
+     Gaily to glory we come;
+     Like a king in his pomp,
+     To the blast of the tromp,
+     And the roar of the mighty drum!
+     Breeze fill our banners, sun gild our spears,
+     Spirito Santo, Cavaliers!
+
+     2.
+
+     March, march for your Freedom and Laws!
+     Earth is your witness--all Earth’s is your cause!
+     Seraph and saint from their glory shall heed ye,
+     The angel that smote the Assyrian shall lead ye;
+     To the Christ of the Cross man is never so holy
+     As in braving the proud in defence of the lowly!
+     Breeze fill our banners, sun gild our spears,
+     Spirito Santo, Cavaliers!
+     Blow, trumpets, blow,
+     Blow, trumpets, blow,
+     Gaily to glory we come;
+     Like a king in his pomp,
+     To the blast of the tromp,
+     And the roar of the mighty drum!
+     Breeze fill our banners, sun gild our spears,
+     Spirito Santo, Cavaliers!
+
+     3.
+
+     March, march! ye are sons of the Roman,
+     The sound of whose step was as fate to the foeman!
+     Whose realm, save the air and the wave, had no wall,
+     As he strode through the world like a lord in his hall;
+     Though your fame hath sunk down to the night of the grave,
+     It shall rise from the field like the sun from the wave.
+     Breeze fill our banners, sun gild our spears,
+     Spirito Santo, Cavaliers!
+     Blow, trumpets, blow,
+     Blow, trumpets, blow,
+     Gaily to glory we come;
+     Like a king in his pomp,
+     To the blast of the tromp,
+     And the roar of the mighty drum!
+     Breeze fill our banners, sun gild our spears,
+     Spirito Santo, Cavaliers!
+
+In this order they reached the wide waste that ruin and devastation
+left within the gates, and, marshalled in long lines on either side,
+extending far down the vistaed streets, and leaving a broad space in the
+centre, awaited the order of their leader.
+
+“Throw open the gates, and admit the foe!” cried Rienzi, with a loud
+voice; as the trumpets of the Barons, announced their approach.
+
+Meanwhile the insurgent Patricians, who had marched that morning from a
+place called the Monument, four miles distant, came gallantly and boldly
+on.
+
+With old Stephen, whose great height, gaunt frame, and lordly air,
+shewed well in his gorgeous mail, rode his sons,--the Frangipani and the
+Savelli, and Giordano Orsini, brother to Rinaldo.
+
+“Today the tyrant shall perish!” said the proud Baron; “and the flag of
+the Colonna shall wave from the Capitol.”
+
+“The flag of the Bear,” said Giordano Orsini, angrily.--“The victory
+will not be yours alone, my Lord!”
+
+“Our house ever took precedence in Rome,” replied the Colonna,
+haughtily.
+
+“Never, while one stone of the palaces of the Orsini stands upon
+another.”
+
+“Hush!” said Luca di Savelli; “are ye dividing the skin while the lion
+lives? We shall have fierce work today.”
+
+“Not so,” said the old Colonna; “John di Vico will turn, with his
+Romans, at the first onset, and some of the malcontents within have
+promised to open the gates.--How, knave?” as a scout rode up breathless
+to the Baron. “What tidings?”
+
+“The gates are opened--not a spear gleams from the walls!”
+
+“Did I not tell ye, Lords?” said the Colonna, turning round
+triumphantly. “Methinks we shall win Rome without a single
+blow.--Grandson, where now are thy silly forebodings?” This was said to
+Pietro, one of his grandsons--the first-born of Gianni--a comely youth,
+not two weeks wedded, who made no reply. “My little Pietro here,”
+ continued the Baron, speaking to his comrades, “is so new a bridegroom,
+that last night he dreamed of his bride; and deems it, poor lad, a
+portent.”
+
+“She was in deep mourning, and glided from my arms, uttering, ‘Woe, woe,
+to the Colonna!” said the young man, solemnly.
+
+“I have lived nearly ninety years,” replied the old man, “and I may have
+dreamed, therefore, some forty thousand dreams; of which, two came true,
+and the rest were false. Judge, then, what chances are in favour of the
+science!”
+
+Thus conversing, they approached within bow-shot of the gates, which
+were still open. All was silent as death. The army, which was composed
+chiefly of foreign mercenaries, halted in deliberation--when, lo!--a
+torch was suddenly cast on high over the walls; it gleamed a moment--and
+then hissed in the miry pool below.
+
+“It is the signal of our friends within, as agreed on,” cried old
+Colonna. “Pietro, advance with your company!” The young nobleman closed
+his visor, put himself at the head of the band under his command; and,
+with his lance in his rest, rode in a half gallop to the gates. The
+morning had been clouded and overcast, and the sun, appearing only at
+intervals, now broke out in a bright stream of light--as it glittered
+on the waving plume and shining mail of the young horseman, disappearing
+under the gloomy arch, several paces in advance of his troop. On swept
+his followers--forward went the cavalry headed by Gianni Colonna,
+Pietro’s father.--there was a minute’s silence, broken only by the
+clatter of the arms, and tramp of hoofs,--when from within the walls
+rose the abrupt cry--“Rome, the Tribune, and the People! Spirito Santo,
+Cavaliers!” The main body halted aghast. Suddenly Gianni Colonna was
+seen flying backward from the gate at full speed.
+
+“My son, my son!” he cried, “they have murdered him;”--he halted abrupt
+and irresolute, then adding, “But I will avenge!” wheeled round, and
+spurred again through the arch,--when a huge machine of iron, shaped as
+a portcullis, suddenly descended upon the unhappy father, and crushed
+man and horse to the ground--one blent, mangled, bloody mass.
+
+The old Colonna saw, and scarce believed his eyes; and ere his troop
+recovered its stupor, the machine rose, and over the corpse dashed
+the Popular Armament. Thousands upon thousands, they came on; a wild,
+clamorous, roaring stream. They poured on all sides upon their enemies,
+who drawn up in steady discipline, and clad in complete mail, received
+and broke their charge.
+
+“Revenge, and the Colonna!”--“The Bear and the Orsini!”--“Charity and
+the Frangipani!” (Who had taken their motto from some fabled ancestor
+who had broke bread with a beggar in a time of famine.) “Strike for
+the Snake (The Lion was, however, the animal usually arrogated by the
+heraldic vanity of the Savelli.) and the Savelli!” were then heard on
+high, mingled with the German and hoarse shout, “Full purses, and the
+Three Kings of Cologne.” The Romans, rather ferocious than disciplined,
+fell butchered in crowds round the ranks of the mercenaries: but as one
+fell, another succeeded; and still burst with undiminished fervour
+the countercry of “Rome, the Tribune, and the People!--Spirito Santo,
+Cavaliers!” Exposed to every shaft and every sword by his emblematic
+diadem and his imperial robe, the fierce Rienzi led on each assault,
+wielding an enormous battle-axe, for the use of which the Italians were
+celebrated, and which he regarded as a national weapon. Inspired by
+every darker and sterner instinct of his nature, his blood heated, his
+passions aroused, fighting as a citizen for liberty, as a monarch
+for his crown, his daring seemed to the astonished foe as that of one
+frantic; his preservation that of one inspired: now here, now there;
+wherever flagged his own, or failed the opposing, force, glittered his
+white robe, and rose his bloody battle-axe; but his fury seemed rather
+directed against the chiefs than the herd; and still where his charger
+wheeled was heard his voice, “Where is a Colonna?”--“Defiance to the
+Orsini!”--“Spirito Santo, Cavaliers!” Three times was the sally led from
+the gate; three times were the Romans beaten back; and on the third, the
+gonfalon, borne before the Tribune, was cloven to the ground. Then, for
+the first time, he seemed amazed and alarmed, and, raising his eyes to
+heaven, he exclaimed, “O Lord, hast thou then forsaken me?” With that,
+taking heart, once more he waved his arm, and again led forward his wild
+array.
+
+At eve the battle ceased. Of the Barons who had been the main object of
+the Tribune’s assault, the pride and boast was broken. Of the princely
+line of the Colonna, three lay dead. Giordano Orsini was mortally
+wounded; the fierce Rinaldo had not shared the conflict. Of the
+Frangipani, the haughtiest signors were no more; and Luca, the dastard
+head of the Savelli, had long since saved himself by flight. On the
+other hand, the slaughter of the citizens had been prodigious;--the
+ground was swamped with blood--and over heaps of slain, (steeds and
+riders,) the twilight star beheld Rienzi and the Romans returning
+victors from the pursuit. Shouts of rejoicing followed the Tribune’s
+panting steed through the arch; and just as he entered the space within,
+crowds of those whose infirmities, sex, or years, had not allowed them
+to share the conflict,--women, and children, and drivelling age, mingled
+with the bare feet and dark robes of monks and friars, apprised of the
+victory, were prepared to hail his triumph.
+
+Rienzi reined his steed by the corpse of the boy Colonna, which lay
+half immersed in a pool of water, and close by it, removed from the arch
+where he had fallen, lay that of Gianni Colonna,--(that Gianni Colonna
+whose spear had dismissed his brother’s gentle spirit.) He glanced over
+the slain, as the melancholy Hesperus played upon the bloody pool and
+the gory corselet, with a breast heaved with many emotions; and turning,
+he saw the young Angelo, who, with some of Nina’s guard, had repaired to
+the spot, and had now approached the Tribune.
+
+“Child,” said Rienzi, pointing to the dead, “blessed art thou who hast
+no blood of kindred to avenge!--to him who hath, sooner or later comes
+the hour; and an awful hour it is!”
+
+The words sank deep into Angelo’s heart, and in after life became words
+of fate to the speaker and the listener.
+
+Ere Rienzi had well recovered himself, and as were heard around him
+the shrieks of the widows and mothers of the slain--the groans of the
+dying--the exhortations of the friars--mingled with sounds of joy
+and triumph--a cry was raised by the women and stragglers on the
+battle-field without, of “The foe!--the foe!”
+
+“To your swords,” cried the Tribune; “fall back in order;--yet they
+cannot be so bold!”
+
+The tramp of horses, the blast of a trumpet, were heard; and presently,
+at full speed, some thirty horsemen dashed through the gate.
+
+“Your bows,” exclaimed the Tribune, advancing;--“yet hold--the leader
+is unarmed--it is our own banner. By our Lady, it is our ambassador of
+Naples, the Lord Adrian di Castello!”
+
+Panting--breathless--covered with dust--Adrian halted at the pool red
+with the blood of his kindred--and their pale faces, set in death,
+glared upon him.
+
+“Too late--alas! alas!--dread fate!--unhappy Rome!”
+
+“They fell into the pit they themselves had digged,” said the Tribune,
+in a firm but hollow voice.--“Noble Adrian, would thy counsels had
+prevented this!”
+
+“Away, proud man--away!” said Adrian, impatiently waving his
+hand,--“thou shouldst protect the lives of Romans, and--oh,
+Gianni!--Pietro!--could not birth, renown, and thy green years, poor
+boy--could not these save ye?”
+
+“Pardon him, my friends,” said the Tribune to the crowd,--“his grief is
+natural, and he knows not all their guilt.--Back, I pray ye--leave him
+to our ministering.”
+
+It might have fared ill for Adrian, but for the Tribune’s brief speech.
+And as the young Lord, dismounting, now bent over his kinsmen--the
+Tribune also surrendering his charger to his squires, approached, and,
+despite Adrian’s reluctance and aversion, drew him aside,--
+
+“Young friend,” said he, mournfully, “my heart bleeds for you; yet
+bethink thee, the wrath of the crowd is fresh upon them: be prudent.”
+
+“Prudent!”
+
+“Hush--by my honour, these men were not worthy of your name. Twice
+perjured--once assassins--twice rebels--listen to me!”
+
+“Tribune, I ask no other construing of what I see--they might have died
+justly, or been butchered foully. But there is no peace between the
+executioner of my race and me.”
+
+“Will you, too, be forsworn? Thine oath!--Come, come, I hear not these
+words. Be composed--retire--and if, three days hence, you impute any
+other blame to me than that of unwise lenity, I absolve you from your
+oath, and you are free to be my foe. The crowd gape and gaze upon us--a
+minute more, and I may not avail to save you.”
+
+The feelings of the young patrician were such as utterly baffle
+description. He had never been much amongst his house, nor ever received
+more than common courtesy at their hands. But lineage is lineage still!
+And there, in the fatal hazard of war, lay the tree and sapling, the
+prime and hope of his race. He felt there was no answer to the Tribune,
+the very place of their death proved they had fallen in an assault upon
+their countrymen. He sympathised not with their cause, but their fate.
+And rage, revenge alike forbidden--his heart was the more softened
+to the shock and paralysis of grief. He did not therefore speak, but
+continued to gaze upon the dead, while large and unheeded tears flowed
+down his cheeks, and his attitude of dejection and sorrow was so moving,
+that the crowd, at first indignant, now felt for his affliction.
+At length his mind seemed made up. He turned to Rienzi, and said,
+falteringly, “Tribune, I blame you not, nor accuse. If you have been
+rash in this, God will have blood for blood. I wage no war with you--you
+say right, my oath prevents me; and if you govern well, I can still
+remember that I am Roman. But--but--look to that bleeding clay--we meet
+no more!--your sister--God be with her!--between her and me flows a dark
+gulf!” The young noble paused some moments, choked by his emotions,
+and then continued, “These papers discharge me of my mission.
+Standard-bearers, lay down the banner of the Republic. Tribune, speak
+not--I would be calm--calm. And so farewell to Rome.” With a hurried
+glance towards the dead, he sprung upon his steed, and, followed by his
+train, vanished through the arch.
+
+The Tribune had not attempted to detain him--had not interrupted him.
+He felt that the young noble had thought--acted as became him best. He
+followed him with his eyes.
+
+“And thus,” said he gloomily, “Fate plucks from me my noblest friend and
+my justest counsellor--better man Rome never lost!”
+
+Such is the eternal doom of disordered states. The mediator between rank
+and rank,--the kindly noble--the dispassionate patriot--the first to
+act--the most hailed in action--darkly vanishes from the scene. Fiercer
+and more unscrupulous spirits alone stalk the field; and no neutral and
+harmonizing link remains between hate and hate,--until exhaustion, sick
+with horrors, succeeds to frenzy, and despotism is welcomed as repose!
+
+
+
+Chapter 5.IV. The Hollowness of the Base.
+
+The rapid and busy march of state events has led us long away from
+the sister of the Tribune and the betrothed of Adrian. And the sweet
+thoughts and gentle day-dreams of that fair and enamoured girl, however
+full to her of an interest beyond all the storms and perils of ambition,
+are not so readily adapted to narration:--their soft monotony a few
+words can paint. They knew but one image, they tended to but one
+prospect. Shrinking from the glare of her brother’s court, and eclipsed,
+when she forced herself to appear, by the more matured and dazzling
+beauty, and all-commanding presence, of Nina,--to her the pomp and
+crowd seemed an unreal pageant, from which she retired to the truth of
+life,--the hopes and musings of her own heart. Poor girl! with all the
+soft and tender nature of her dead brother, and none of the stern genius
+and the prodigal ambition,--the eye-fatiguing ostentation and fervour of
+the living--she was but ill-fitted for the unquiet but splendid region
+to which she was thus suddenly transferred.
+
+With all her affection for Rienzi, she could not conquer a certain fear
+which, conjoined with the difference of sex and age, forbade her to be
+communicative with him upon the subject most upon her heart.
+
+As the absence of Adrian at the Neapolitan Court passed the anticipated
+date, (for at no Court then, with a throne fiercely disputed, did
+the Tribune require a nobler or more intelligent representative,--and
+intrigues and counter-intrigues delayed his departure from week to
+week), she grew uneasy and alarmed. Like many, themselves unseen,
+inactive, the spectators of the scene, she saw involuntarily further
+into the time than the deeper intellect either of the Tribune or Nina;
+and the dangerous discontent of the nobles was visible and audible to
+her in looks and whispers, which reached not acuter or more suspected
+ears and eyes. Anxiously, restlessly, did she long for the return
+of Adrian, not from selfish motives alone, but from well-founded
+apprehensions for her brother. With Adrian di Castello, alike a noble
+and a patriot, each party had found a mediator, and his presence grew
+daily more needed, till at length the conspiracy of the Barons had
+broken out. From that hour she scarcely dared to hope; her calm sense,
+unblinded by the high-wrought genius which, as too often happens, made
+the Tribune see harsh realities through a false and brilliant light,
+perceived that the Rubicon was passed; and through all the events
+that followed she could behold but two images--danger to her brother,
+separation from her betrothed.
+
+With Nina alone could her full heart confer; for Nina, with all the
+differences of character, was a woman who loved. And this united them.
+In the earlier power of Rienzi, many of their happiest hours had been
+passed together, remote from the gaudy crowd, alone and unrestrained,
+in the summer nights, on the moonlit balconies, in that interchange
+of thought, sympathy, and consolation, which to two impassioned and
+guileless women makes the most interesting occupation and the most
+effectual solace. But of late, this intercourse had been much marred.
+From the morning in which the Barons had received their pardon, to that
+on which they had marched on Rome, had been one succession of fierce
+excitements. Every face Irene saw was clouded and overcast--all gaiety
+was suspended--bustling and anxious councillors, or armed soldiers, had
+for days been the only visitors of the palace. Rienzi had been seen but
+for short moments: his brow wrapt in care. Nina had been more fond, more
+caressing than ever, but in those caresses there seemed a mournful and
+ominous compassion. The attempts at comfort and hope were succeeded by
+a sickly smile and broken words; and Irene was prepared, by the
+presentiments of her own heart, for the stroke that fell--victory was to
+her brother--his foe was crushed--Rome was free--but the lofty house
+of the Colonnas had lost its stateliest props, and Adrian was gone for
+ever!--She did not blame him; she could not blame her brother; each
+had acted as became his several station. She was the poor sacrifice of
+events and fate--the Iphigenia to the Winds which were to bear the bark
+of Rome to the haven, or, it might be, to whelm it in the abyss. She was
+stunned by the blow; she did not even weep or complain; she bowed to the
+storm that swept over her, and it passed. For two days she neither took
+food nor rest; she shut herself up; she asked only the boon of solitude:
+but on the third morning she recovered as by a miracle, for on the third
+morning, the following letter was left at the palace:--
+
+“Irene,--Ere this you have learned my deep cause of grief; you feel
+that to a Colonna Rome can no longer be a home, nor Rome’s Tribune be
+a brother. While I write these words honour but feebly supports me: all
+the hopes I had formed, all the prospects I had pictured, all the love
+I bore and bear thee, rush upon my heart, and I can only feel that I am
+wretched. Irene, Irene, your sweet face rises before me, and in those
+beloved eyes I read that I am forgiven,--I am understood; and dearly as
+I know thou lovest me, thou wouldst rather I were lost to thee, rather I
+were in the grave with my kinsmen, than know I lived the reproach of my
+order, the recreant of my name. Ah! why was I a Colonna? why did Fortune
+make me noble, and nature and circumstance attach me to the people? I am
+barred alike from love and from revenge; all my revenge falls upon
+thee and me. Adored! we are perhaps separated for ever; but, by all
+the happiness I have known by thy side--by all the rapture of which I
+dreamed--by that delicious hour which first gave thee to my gaze, when
+I watched the soft soul returning to thine eyes and lip--by thy first
+blushing confession of love--by our first kiss--by our last farewell--I
+swear to be faithful to thee to the last. None other shall ever chase
+thine image from my heart. And now, when Hope seems over, Faith becomes
+doubly sacred; and thou, my beautiful, wilt thou not remember me? wilt
+thou not feel as if we were the betrothed of Heaven? In the legends of
+the North we are told of the knight who, returning from the Holy Land,
+found his mistress (believing his death) the bride of Heaven, and he
+built a hermitage by the convent where she dwelt; and, though they never
+saw each other more, their souls were faithful unto death. Even so,
+Irene, be we to each other--dead to all else--betrothed in memory--to
+be wedded above! And yet, yet ere I close, one hope dawns upon me. Thy
+brother’s career, bright and lofty, may be but as a falling star;
+should darkness swallow it, should his power cease, should his throne be
+broken, and Rome know no more her Tribune; shouldst thou no longer
+have a brother in the judge and destroyer of my house; shouldst thou be
+stricken from pomp and state; shouldst thou be friendless, kindredless,
+alone--then, without a stain on mine honour, without the shame and odium
+of receiving power and happiness from hands yet red with the blood of
+my race, I may claim thee as my own. Honour ceases to command when thou
+ceasest to be great. I dare not too fondly indulge this dream, perchance
+it is a sin in both. But it must be whispered, that thou mayest know
+all thy Adrian, all his weakness and his strength. My own loved, my
+ever loved, loved more fondly now when loved despairingly, farewell! May
+angels heal thy sorrow, and guard me from sin, that hereafter at least
+we may meet again!”
+
+“He loves me--he loves me still!” said the maiden, weeping at last; “and
+I am blest once more!”
+
+With that letter pressed to her heart she recovered outwardly from the
+depth of her affliction; she met her brother with a smile, and Nina
+with embraces; and if still she pined and sorrowed, it was in that
+“concealment” which is the “worm i’ the bud.”
+
+Meanwhile, after the first flush of victory, lamentation succeeded to
+joy in Rome; so great had been the slaughter that the private grief was
+large enough to swallow up all public triumph; and many of the mourners
+blamed even their defender for the swords of the assailant, “Roma fu
+terribilmente vedovata.” (“Rome was terribly widowed.”) The numerous
+funerals deeply affected the Tribune; and, in proportion to his sympathy
+with his people, grew his stern indignation against the Barons. Like all
+men whose religion is intense, passionate, and zealous, the Tribune had
+little toleration for those crimes which went to the root of religion.
+Perjury was to him the most base and inexpiable of offences, and the
+slain Barons had been twice perjured: in the bitterness of his wrath he
+forbade their families for some days to lament over their remains;
+and it was only in private and in secret that he permitted them to be
+interred in their ancestral vaults: an excess of vengeance which
+sullied his laurels, but which was scarcely inconsistent with the stern
+patriotism of his character. Impatient to finish what he had begun,
+anxious to march at once to Marino, where the insurgents collected their
+shattered force, he summoned his Council, and represented the certainty
+of victory, and its result in the complete restoration of peace. But
+pay was due to the soldiery; they already murmured; the treasury was
+emptied, it was necessary to fill it by raising a new tax.
+
+Among the councillors were some whose families had suffered grievously
+in the battle--they lent a lukewarm attention to propositions
+of continued strife. Others, among whom was Pandulfo, timid but
+well-meaning, aware that grief and terror even of their own triumph
+had produced reaction amongst the people, declared that they would not
+venture to propose a new tax. A third party, headed by Baroncelli--a
+demagogue whose ambition was without principle--but who, by pandering
+to the worst passions of the populace, by a sturdy coarseness of nature
+with which they sympathised--and by that affectation of advancing what
+we now term the “movement,” which often gives to the fiercest fool an
+advantage over the most prudent statesman, had quietly acquired a great
+influence with the lower ranks--offered a more bold opposition. They
+dared even to blame the proud Tribune for the gorgeous extravagance they
+had themselves been the first to recommend--and half insinuated
+sinister and treacherous motives in his acquittal of the Barons from
+the accusation of Rodolf. In the very Parliament which the Tribune
+had revived and remodelled for the support of freedom--freedom was
+abandoned. His fiery eloquence met with a gloomy silence, and finally,
+the votes were against his propositions for the new tax and the march
+to Marino. Rienzi broke up the Council in haste and disorder. As he left
+the hall, a letter was put into his hands; he read it, and remained for
+some moments as one thunderstruck. He then summoned the Captain of his
+Guards, and ordered a band of fifty horsemen to be prepared for his
+commands; he repaired to Nina’s apartment, he found her alone, and
+stood for some moments gazing upon her so intently that she was awed and
+chilled from all attempt at speech. At length he said, abruptly--
+
+“We must part.”
+
+“Part!”
+
+“Yes, Nina--your guard is preparing; you have relations, I have friends,
+at Florence. Florence must be your home.”
+
+“Cola,--”
+
+“Look not on me thus.--in power, in state, in safety--you were my
+ornament and counsellor. Now you but embarrass me. And--”
+
+“Oh, Cola, speak not thus! What hath chanced? Be not so cold--frown
+not--turn not away! Am I not something more to thee, than the partner
+of joyous hours--the minion of love? Am I not thy wife, Cola--not thy
+leman?”
+
+“Too dear--too dear to me,” muttered the Tribune; “with thee by my side
+I shall be but half a Roman. Nina, the base slaves whom I myself made
+free desert me.--Now, in the very hour in which I might sweep away for
+ever all obstacles to the regeneration of Rome--now, when one conquest
+points the path to complete success--now when the land is visible, my
+fortune suddenly leaves me in the midst of the seas! There is greater
+danger now than in the rage of the Barons--the Barons are fled; it is
+the People who are becoming traitors to Rome and to me.”
+
+“And wouldst thou have me traitor also! No, Cola; in death itself Nina
+shall be beside thee. Life and honour are reflected but from thee, and
+the stroke that slays the substance, shall destroy the humble shadow. I
+will not part from thee.”
+
+“Nina,” said the Tribune, contending with strong and convulsive
+emotion--“it may be literally of death that you speak.--Go! leave one
+who can no longer protect you or Rome!”
+
+“Never--Never.”
+
+“You are resolved?”
+
+“I am.”
+
+“Be it so,” said the Tribune, with deep sadness in his tone. “Arm
+thyself for the worst.”
+
+“There is no worst with thee, Cola!”
+
+“Come to my arms, brave woman; thy words rebuke my weakness. But my
+sister!--if I fall, you, Nina, will not survive--your beauty a prey to
+the most lustful heart and the strongest hand. We will have the same
+tomb on the wrecks of Roman liberty. But Irene is of weaker mould; poor
+child, I have robbed her of a lover, and now--”
+
+“You are right; let Irene go. And in truth we may well disguise from
+her the real cause of her departure. Change of scene were best for her
+grief; and under all circumstances would seem decorum to the curious. I
+will see and prepare her.”
+
+“Do so, sweetheart. I would gladly be a moment alone with thought. But
+remember, she must part today--our sands run low.”
+
+As the door closed on Nina, the Tribune took out the letter and again
+read it deliberately. “So the Pope’s Legate left Sienna:--prayed that
+Republic to withdraw its auxiliary troops from Rome--proclaimed me a
+rebel and a heretic;--thence repaired to Marino;--now in council with
+the Barons. Why, have my dreams belied me, then--false as the waking
+things that flatter and betray by day? In such peril will the people
+forsake me and themselves? Army of saints and martyrs, shades of heroes
+and patriots, have ye abandoned for ever your ancient home? No, no, I
+was not raised to perish thus; I will defeat them yet--and leave my name
+a legacy to Rome; a warning to the oppressor--an example to the free!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 5.V. The Rottenness of the Edifice.
+
+The kindly skill of Nina induced Irene to believe that it was but the
+tender consideration of her brother to change a scene embittered by her
+own thoughts, and in which the notoriety of her engagement with Adrian
+exposed her to all that could mortify and embarrass, that led to the
+proposition of her visit to Florence. Its suddenness was ascribed to the
+occasion of an unexpected mission to Florence, (for a loan of arms and
+money,) which thus gave her a safe and honoured escort.--Passively she
+submitted to what she herself deemed a relief; and it was agreed that
+she should for a while be the guest of a relation of Nina’s, who was the
+abbess of one of the wealthiest of the Florentine convents: the idea of
+monastic seclusion was welcome to the bruised heart and wearied spirit.
+
+But though not apprised of the immediate peril of Rienzi, it was with
+deep sadness and gloomy forebodings that she returned his embrace and
+parting blessing; and when at length alone in her litter, and beyond the
+gates of Rome, she repented a departure to which the chance of danger
+gave the appearance of desertion.
+
+Meanwhile, as the declining day closed around the litter and its troop,
+more turbulent actors in the drama demand our audience. The traders
+and artisans of Rome at that time, and especially during the popular
+government of Rienzi, held weekly meetings in each of the thirteen
+quarters of the city. And in the most democratic of these, Cecco del
+Vecchio was an oracle and leader. It was at that assembly, over which
+the smith presided, that the murmurs that preceded the earthquake were
+heard.
+
+“So,” cried one of the company--Luigi, the goodly butcher,--“they say
+he wanted to put a new tax on us; and that is the reason he broke up the
+Council today, because, good men, they were honest, and had bowels for
+the people: it is a shame and a sin that the treasury should be empty.”
+
+“I told him,” said the smith, “to beware how he taxed the people. Poor
+men won’t be taxed. But as he does not follow my advice, he must take
+the consequence--the horse runs from one hand, the halter remains in the
+other.”
+
+“Take your advice, Cecco! I warrant me his stomach is too high for that
+now. Why he is grown as proud as a pope.”
+
+“For all that, he is a great man,” said one of the party. “He gave us
+laws--he rid the Campagna of robbers--filled the streets with merchants,
+and the shops with wares--defeated the boldest lords and fiercest
+soldiery of Italy--”
+
+“And now wants to tax the people!--that’s all the thanks we get for
+helping him,” said the grumbling Cecco. “What would he have been without
+us?--we that make, can unmake.”
+
+“But,” continued the advocate, seeing that he had his supporters--“but
+then he taxes us for our own liberties.”
+
+“Who strikes at them now?” asked the butcher.
+
+“Why the Barons are daily mustering new strength at Marino.”
+
+“Marino is not Rome,” said Luigi, the butcher. “Let’s wait till they
+come to our gates again--we know how to receive them. Though, for
+the matter of that, I think we have had enough fighting--my two poor
+brothers had each a stab too much for them. Why won’t the Tribune, if he
+be a great man, let us have peace? All we want now is quiet.”
+
+“Ah!” said a seller of horse-harness. “Let him make it up with the
+Barons. They were good customers after all.”
+
+“For my part,” said a merry-looking fellow, who had been a gravedigger
+in bad times, and had now opened a stall of wares for the living, “I
+could forgive him all, but bathing in the holy vase of porphyry.”
+
+“Ah, that was a bad job,” said several, shaking their heads.
+
+“And the knighthood was but a silly show, an’ it were not for the wine
+from the horse’s nostrils--that had some sense in it.”
+
+“My masters,” said Cecco, “the folly was in not beheading the Barons
+when he had them all in the net; and so Messere Baroncelli says. (Ah,
+Baroncelli is an honest man, and follows no half measures!) It was a
+sort of treason to the people not to do so. Why, but for that, we should
+never have lost so many tall fellows by the gate of San Lorenzo.”
+
+“True, true, it was a shame; some say the Barons bought him.”
+
+“And then,” said another, “those poor Lords Colonna--boy and man--they
+were the best of the family, save the Castello. I vow I pitied them.”
+
+“But to the point,” said one of the crowd, the richest of the set; “the
+tax is the thing.--The ingratitude to tax us.--Let him dare to do it!”
+
+“Oh, he will not dare, for I hear that the Pope’s bristles are up at
+last; so he will only have us to depend upon!”
+
+The door was thrown open--a man rushed in open-mouthed--
+
+“Masters, masters, the Pope’s legate has arrived at Rome, and sent for
+the Tribune, who has just left his presence.”
+
+Ere his auditors had recovered their surprise, the sound of trumpets
+made them rush forth; they saw Rienzi sweep by with his usual cavalcade,
+and in his proud array. The twilight was advancing, and torch-bearers
+preceded his way. Upon his countenance was deep calm but it was not the
+calm of contentment. He passed on, and the street was again desolate.
+Meanwhile Rienzi reached the Capitol in silence, and mounted to the
+apartments of the palace, where Nina, pale and breathless, awaited his
+return.
+
+“Well, well, thou smilest! No--it is that dread smile, worse than
+frowns. Speak, beloved, speak! What said the Cardinal?”
+
+“Little thou wilt love to hear. He spoke at first high and solemnly,
+about the crime of declaring the Romans free; next about the treason of
+asserting that the election of the King of Rome was in the hands of the
+Romans.”
+
+“Well--thy answer.”
+
+“That which became Rome’s Tribune: I re-asserted each right, and proved
+it. The Cardinal passed to other charges.”
+
+“What?”
+
+“The blood of the Barons by San Lorenzo--blood only shed in our own
+defence against perjured assailants; this is in reality the main crime.
+The Colonna have the Pope’s ear. Furthermore, the sacrilege--yes, the
+sacrilege (come laugh, Nina, laugh!) of bathing in a vase of porphyry
+used by Constantine while yet a heathen.”
+
+“Can it be! What saidst thou?”
+
+“I laughed. ‘Cardinal,’ quoth I, ‘what was not too good for a heathen
+is not too good for a Christian Catholic!’ And verily the sour Frenchman
+looked as if I had smote him on the hip. When he had done, I asked him,
+in my turn, ‘Is it alleged against me that I have wronged one man in my
+judgment-court?’--Silence. ‘Is it said that I have broken one law of
+the state?’--Silence. ‘Is it even whispered that trade does not
+flourish--that life is not safe--that abroad or at home the Roman
+name is not honoured, to that point which no former rule can
+parallel?’--Silence. ‘Then,’ said I, ‘Lord Cardinal, I demand thy
+thanks, not thy censure.’ The Frenchman looked, and looked, and
+trembled, and shrunk, and then out he spake. ‘I have but one mission to
+fulfil, on the part of the Pontiff--resign at once thy Tribuneship, or
+the Church inflicts upon thee its solemn curse.’”
+
+“How--how?” said Nina, turning very pale; “what is it that awaits thee?”
+
+“Excommunication!”
+
+This awful sentence, by which the spiritual arm had so often stricken
+down the fiercest foe, came to Nina’s ear as a knell. She covered her
+face with her hands. Rienzi paced the room with rapid strides. “The
+curse!” he muttered; “the Church’s curse--for me--for ME!”
+
+“Oh, Cola! didst thou not seek to pacify this stern--”
+
+“Pacify! Death and dishonour! Pacify! ‘Cardinal,’ I said, and I felt his
+soul shrivel at my gaze, ‘my power I received from the people--to the
+people alone I render it. For my soul, man’s word cannot scathe it.
+Thou, haughty priest, thou thyself art the accursed, if, puppet and tool
+of low cabals and exiled tyrants, thou breathest but a breath in the
+name of the Lord of Justice, for the cause of the oppressor, and against
+the rights of the oppressed.’ With that I left him, and now--”
+
+“Ay, now--now what will happen? Excommunication! In the metropolis of
+the Church, too--the superstition of the people! Oh, Cola!”
+
+“If,” muttered Rienzi, “my conscience condemned me of one crime--if I
+had stained my hands in one just man’s blood--if I had broken one law
+I myself had framed--if I had taken bribes, or wronged the poor, or
+scorned the orphan, or shut my heart to the widow--then, then--but no!
+Lord, thou wilt not desert me!”
+
+“But man may!” thought Nina mournfully, as she perceived that one of
+Rienzi’s dark fits of fanatical and mystical revery was growing over
+him--fits which he suffered no living eye, not even Nina’s, to witness
+when they gathered to their height. And now, indeed, after a short
+interval of muttered soliloquy, in which his face worked so that the
+veins on his temples swelled like cords, he abruptly left the room, and
+sought the private oratory connected with his closet. Over the emotions
+there indulged let us draw the veil. Who shall describe those awful and
+mysterious moments, when man, with all his fiery passions, turbulent
+thoughts, wild hopes, and despondent fears, demands the solitary
+audience of his Maker?
+
+It was long after this conference with Nina, and the midnight bell had
+long tolled, when Rienzi stood alone, upon one of the balconies of the
+palace, to cool, in the starry air, the fever that yet lingered on his
+exhausted frame. The night was exceedingly calm, the air clear, but
+chill, for it was now December. He gazed intently upon those solemn orbs
+to which our wild credulity has referred the prophecies of our doom.
+
+“Vain science!” thought the Tribune, “and gloomy fantasy, that man’s
+fate is pre-ordained--irrevocable--unchangeable, from the moment of his
+birth! Yet, were the dream not baseless, fain would I know which of
+yon stately lights is my natal star,--which images--which reflects--my
+career in life, and the memory I shall leave in death.” As this thought
+crossed him, and his gaze was still fixed above, he saw, as if made
+suddenly more distinct than the stars around it, that rapid and fiery
+comet which in the winter of 1347 dismayed the superstitions of those
+who recognised in the stranger of the heavens the omen of disaster and
+of woe. He recoiled as it met his eye, and muttered to himself, “Is such
+indeed my type! or, if the legendary lore speak true, and these strange
+fires portend nations ruined and rulers overthrown, does it foretell my
+fate? I will think no more.” (Alas! if by the Romans associated with the
+fall of Rienzi, that comet was by the rest of Europe connected with the
+more dire calamity of the Great Plague that so soon afterwards ensued.)
+As his eyes fell, they rested upon the colossal Lion of Basalt in the
+place below, the starlight investing its grey and towering form with a
+more ghostly whiteness; and then it was, that he perceived two figures
+in black robes lingering by the pedestal which supported the statue, and
+apparently engaged in some occupation which he could not guess. A fear
+shot through his veins, for he had never been able to divest himself
+of the vague idea that there was some solemn and appointed connexion
+between his fate and that old Lion of Basalt. Somewhat relieved, he
+heard his sentry challenge the intruders; and as they came forward to
+the light, he perceived that they wore the garments of monks.
+
+“Molest us not, son,” said one of them to the sentry. “By order of the
+Legate of the Holy Father we affix to this public monument of justice
+and of wrath, the bull of excommunication against a heretic and rebel.
+WOE TO THE ACCURSED OF THE CHURCH!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 5.VI. The Fall of the Temple.
+
+It was as a thunderbolt in a serene day--the reverse of the Tribune in
+the zenith of his power, in the abasement of his foe; when, with but a
+handful of brave Romans, determined to be free, he might have crushed
+for ever the antagonist power to the Roman liberties--have secured the
+rights of his country, and filled up the measure of his own renown. Such
+a reverse was the very mockery of Fate, who bore him through disaster,
+to abandon him in the sunniest noon of his prosperity.
+
+The next morning not a soul was to be seen in the streets; the shops
+were shut--the churches closed; the city was as under an interdict. The
+awful curse of the papal excommunication upon the chief magistrate of
+the Pontifical City, seemed to freeze up all the arteries of life. The
+Legate himself, affecting fear of his life, had fled to Monte Fiascone,
+where he was joined by the Barons immediately after the publication of
+the edict. The curse worked best in the absence of the execrator.
+
+Towards evening a few persons might be seen traversing the broad space
+of the Capitol, crossing themselves, as the bull, placarded on the Lion,
+met their eyes, and disappearing within the doors of the great palace.
+By and by, a few anxious groups collected in the streets, but they
+soon dispersed. It was a paralysis of all intercourse and commune. That
+spiritual and unarmed authority, which, like the invisible hand of God,
+desolated the market-place, and humbled the crowned head, no physical
+force could rally against or resist. Yet, through the universal awe, one
+conviction touched the multitude--it was for them that their Tribune
+was thus blasted in the midst of his glories! The words of the
+Brand recorded against him on wall and column detailed his
+offences:--rebellion in asserting the liberties of Rome--heresy in
+purifying ecclesiastical abuses;--and, to serve for a miserable covert
+to the rest, it was sacrilege for bathing in the porphyry vase of
+Constantine! They felt the conviction; they sighed--they shuddered--and,
+in his vast palace, save a few attached and devoted hearts, the Tribune
+was alone!
+
+The staunchest of his Tuscan soldiery were gone with Irene. The rest
+of his force, save a few remaining guards, was the paid Roman militia,
+composed of citizens; who, long discontented by the delay of their
+stipends, now seized on the excuse of the excommunication to remain
+passive, but grumbling, in their homes.
+
+On the third day, a new incident broke upon the death-like lethargy of
+the city; a hundred and fifty mercenaries, with Pepin of Minorbino, a
+Neapolitan, half noble, half bandit, (a creature of Montreal’s) at their
+head, entered the city, seized upon the fortresses of the Colonna, and
+sent a herald through the city, proclaiming in the name of the Cardinal
+Legate, the reward of ten thousand florins for the head of Cola di
+Rienzi.
+
+Then, swelled on high, shrill but not inspiring as of old, the great
+bell of the Capitol--the people, listless, disheartened, awed by the
+spiritual fear of the papal authority, (yet greater, in such events,
+since the removal of the see,) came unarmed to the Capitol; and there,
+by the Place of the Lion, stood the Tribune. His squires, below the
+step, held his war-horse, his helm, and the same battle-axe which had
+blazed in the van of victorious war.
+
+Beside him were a few of his guard, his attendants, and two or three of
+the principal citizens.
+
+He stood bareheaded and erect, gazing upon the abashed and unarmed crowd
+with a look of bitter scorn, mingled with deep compassion; and, as the
+bell ceased its toll, and the throng remained hushed and listening, he
+thus spoke:--
+
+“Ye come, then, once again! Come ye as slaves or freemen? A handful
+of armed men are in your walls: will ye who chased from your gates the
+haughtiest knights--the most practised battle-men of Rome, succumb now
+to one hundred and fifty hirelings and strangers? Will ye arm for
+your Tribune? You are silent!--be it so. Will you arm for your own
+liberties--your own Rome? Silent still! By the saints that reign on the
+thrones of the heathen gods! are ye thus fallen from your birthright?
+Have you no arms for your own defence? Romans, hear me! Have I wronged
+you?--if so, by your hands let me die: and then, with knives yet reeking
+with my blood, go forward against the robber who is but the herald of
+your slavery; and I die honoured, grateful, and avenged. You weep! Great
+God! you weep! Ay, and I could weep, too--that I should live to speak
+of liberty in vain to Romans--Weep! is this an hour for tears? Weep
+now, and your tears shall ripen harvests of crime, and licence, and
+despotism, to come! Romans, arm! follow me at once to the Place of the
+Colonna: expel this ruffian--expel your enemy (no matter what afterwards
+you do to me):” he paused; no ardour was kindled by his words--“or,” he
+continued, “I abandon you to your fate.” There was a long, low, general
+murmur; at length it became shaped into speech, and many voices cried
+simultaneously: “The Pope’s bull!--Thou art a man accursed!”
+
+“What!” cried the Tribune; “and is it ye who forsake me, ye for whose
+cause alone man dares to hurl against me the thunders of his God? Is it
+not for you that I am declared heretic and rebel! What are my imputed
+crimes? That I have made Rome and asserted Italy to be free; that I
+have subdued the proud Magnates, who were the scourge both of Pope and
+People. And you--you upbraid me with what I have dared and done for you!
+Men, with you I would have fought, for you I would have perished. You
+forsake yourselves in forsaking me, and since I no longer rule over
+brave men, I resign my power to the tyrant you prefer. Seven months
+I have ruled over you, prosperous in commerce, stainless in
+justice--victorious in the field:--I have shown you what Rome could be;
+and, since I abdicate the government ye gave me, when I am gone, strike
+for your own freedom! It matters nothing who is the chief of a brave
+and great people. Prove that Rome hath many a Rienzi, but of brighter
+fortunes.”
+
+“I would he had not sought to tax us,” said Cecco del Vecchio, who
+was the very personification of the vulgar feeling: “and that he had
+beheaded the Barons!”
+
+“Ay!” cried the ex-gravedigger; “but that blessed porphyry vase!”
+
+“And why should we get our throats cut,” said Luigi, the butcher, “like
+my two brothers?--Heaven rest them!”
+
+On the face of the general multitude there was a common expression of
+irresolution and shame, many wept and groaned, none (save the aforesaid
+grumblers) accused; none upbraided, but none seemed disposed to arm. It
+was one of those listless panics, those strange fits of indifference and
+lethargy which often seize upon a people who make liberty a matter of
+impulse and caprice, to whom it has become a catchword, who have not
+long enjoyed all its rational, and sound, and practical, and blessed
+results; who have been affrayed by the storms that herald its dawn;--a
+people such as is common to the south: such as even the north has known;
+such as, had Cromwell lived a year longer, even England might have seen;
+and, indeed, in some measure, such a reaction from popular enthusiasm
+to popular indifference England did see, when her children madly
+surrendered the fruits of a bloody war, without reserve, without
+foresight, to the lewd pensioner of Louis, and the royal murderer of
+Sydney. To such prostration of soul, such blindness of intellect, even
+the noblest people will be subjected, when liberty, which should be the
+growth of ages, spreading its roots through the strata of a thousand
+customs, is raised, the exotic of an hour, and (like the Tree and Dryad
+of ancient fable) flourishes and withers with the single spirit that
+protects it.
+
+“Oh, Heaven, that I were a man!” exclaimed Angelo, who stood behind
+Rienzi.
+
+“Hear him, hear the boy,” cried the Tribune; “out of the mouths of babes
+speaketh wisdom! He wishes that he were a man, as ye are men, that
+he might do as ye should do. Mark me,--I ride with these faithful few
+through the quarter of the Colonna, before the fortress of your foe.
+Three times before that fortress shall my trumpets sound; if at the
+third blast ye come not, armed as befits ye--I say not all, but three,
+but two, but one hundred of ye--I break up my wand of office, and the
+world shall say one hundred and fifty robbers quelled the soul of Rome,
+and crushed her magistrate and her laws!”
+
+With those words he descended the stairs, and mounted his charger; the
+populace gave way in silence, and their Tribune and his slender train
+passed slowly on, and gradually vanished from the view of the increasing
+crowd.
+
+The Romans remained on the place, and after a pause, the demagogue
+Baroncelli, who saw an opening to his ambition, addressed them. Though
+not an eloquent nor gifted man, he had the art of uttering the most
+popular commonplaces. And he knew the weak side of his audience, in
+their vanity, indolence, and arrogant pride.
+
+“Look you, my masters,” said he, leaping up to the Place of the Lion;
+“the Tribune talks bravely--he always did--but the monkey used the cat
+for his chestnuts; he wants to thrust your paws into the fire; you will
+not be so silly as to let him. The saints bless us! but the Tribune,
+good man, gets a palace and has banquets, and bathes in a porphyry vase;
+the more shame on him!--in which San Sylvester christened the Emperor
+Constantine: all this is worth fighting for; but you, my masters, what
+do you get except hard blows, and a stare at a holyday spectacle? Why,
+if you beat these fellows, you will have another tax on the wine: that
+will be your reward!”
+
+“Hark!” cried Cecco, “there sounds the trumpet,--a pity he wanted to tax
+us!”
+
+“True,” cried Baroncelli, “there sounds the trumpet; a silver trumpet,
+by the Lord! Next week, if you help him out of the scrape, he’ll have
+a golden one. But go--why don’t you move, my friends?--‘tis but one
+hundred and fifty mercenaries. True, they are devils to fight, clad in
+armour from top to toe; but what then?--if they do cut some four or five
+hundred throats you’ll beat them at last, and the Tribune will sup the
+merrier.”
+
+“There sounds the second blast,” said the butcher. “If my old mother
+had not lost two of us already, ‘tis odds, but I’d strike a blow for the
+bold Tribune.”
+
+“You had better put more quicksilver in you,” continued Baroncelli, “or
+you will be too late. And what a pity that will be!--If you believe the
+Tribune, he is the only man that can save Rome. What, you, the finest
+people in the world--you, not able to save yourselves!--you, bound up
+with one man--you, not able to dictate to the Colonna and Orsini! Why,
+who beat the Barons at San Lorenzo? Was it not you? Ah! you got the
+buffets, and the Tribune the moneta! Tush, my friends, let the man go;
+I warrant there are plenty as good as he to be bought a cheaper bargain.
+And, hark! there is the third blast; it is too late now!”
+
+As the trumpet from the distance sent forth its long and melancholy
+note, it was as the last warning of the parting genius of the place;
+and when silence swallowed up the sound, a gloom fell over the whole
+assembly. They began to regret, to repent, when regret and repentance
+availed no more. The buffoonery of Baroncelli became suddenly
+displeasing; and the orator had the mortification of seeing his audience
+disperse in all directions, just as he was about to inform them what
+great things he himself could do in their behalf.
+
+Meanwhile the Tribune, passing unscathed through the dangerous quarter
+of the enemy, who, dismayed at his approach, shrunk within their
+fortress, proceeded to the Castle of St. Angelo, whither Nina had
+already preceded him; and which he entered to find that proud lady with
+a smile for his safety,--without a tear for his reverse.
+
+
+
+Chapter 5.VII. The Successors of an Unsuccessful Revolution--Who is to
+Blame--the Forsaken one or the Forsakers?
+
+Cheerfully broke the winter sun over the streets of Rome, as the army
+of the Barons swept along them. The Cardinal Legate at the head; the old
+Colonna (no longer haughty and erect, but bowed, and broken-hearted
+at the loss of his sons) at his right hand;--the sleek smile of Luca
+Savelli--the black frown of Rinaldo Orsini, were seen close behind. A
+long but barbarous array it was; made up chiefly of foreign hirelings;
+nor did the procession resemble the return of exiled citizens, but the
+march of invading foes.
+
+“My Lord Colonna,” said the Cardinal Legate, a small withered man, by
+birth a Frenchman, and full of the bitterest prejudices against the
+Romans, who had in a former mission very ill received him, as was their
+wont with foreign ecclesiastics; “this Pepin, whom Montreal has deputed
+at your orders, hath done us indeed good service.”
+
+The old Lord bowed, but made no answer. His strong intellect was already
+broken, and there was dotage in his glassy eye. The Cardinal muttered,
+“He hears me not; sorrow hath brought him to second childhood!” and
+looking back, motioned to Luca Savelli to approach.
+
+“Luca,” said the Legate, “it was fortunate that the Hungarian’s black
+banner detained the Provencal at Aversa. Had he entered Rome, we might
+have found Rienzi’s successor worse than the Tribune himself. Montreal,”
+ he added, with a slight emphasis and a curled lip, “is a gentleman, and
+a Frenchman. This Pepin, who is his delegate, we must bribe, or menace
+to our will.”
+
+“Assuredly,” answered Savelli, “it is not a difficult task: for Montreal
+calculated on a more stubborn contest, which he himself would have found
+leisure to close--”
+
+“As Podesta, or Prince of Rome! the modest man! We Frenchmen have a due
+sense of our own merits; but this sudden victory surprises him as it
+doth us, Luca; and we shall wrest the prey from Pepin, ere Montreal can
+come to his help! But Rienzi must die. He is still, I hear, shut up in
+St. Angelo. The Orsini shall storm him there ere the day be much older.
+Today we possess the Capitol--annul all the rebel’s laws--break up his
+ridiculous parliament, and put all the government of the city under
+three senators--Rinaldo Orsini, Colonna, and myself; you, my Lord, I
+trust, we shall fitly provide for.”
+
+“Oh! I am rewarded enough by returning to my palace; and a descent
+on the Jewellers’ quarter will soon build up its fortifications. Luca
+Savelli is not an ambitious man. He wants but to live in peace.”
+
+The Cardinal smiled sourly, and took the turn towards the Capitol.
+
+In the front space the usual gapers were assembled. “Make way! make
+way! knaves!” cried the guards, trampling on either side the crowd, who,
+accustomed to the sedate and courteous order of Rienzi’s guard, fell
+back too slowly for many of them to escape severe injury from the pikes
+of the soldiers and the hoofs of the horses. Our friend, Luigi, the
+butcher, was one of these, and the surliness of the Roman blood was past
+boiling heat when he received in his ample stomach the blunt end of a
+German’s pike. “There, Roman,” said the rude mercenary, in his barbarous
+attempt at Italian, “make way for your betters; you have had enough
+crowds and shows of late, in all conscience.”
+
+“Betters!” gulped out the poor butcher; “a Roman has no betters; and if
+I had not lost two brothers by San Lorenzo, I would--”
+
+“The dog is mutinous,” said one of the followers of the Orsini,
+succeeding the German who had passed on, “and talks of San Lorenzo!”
+
+“Oh!” said another Orsinist, who rode abreast, “I remember him of old.
+He was one of Rienzi’s gang.”
+
+“Was he?” said the other, sternly; “then we cannot begin salutary
+examples too soon;” and, offended at something swaggering and insolent
+in the butcher’s look, the Orsinist coolly thrust him through the heart
+with his pike, and rode on over his body.
+
+“Shame! Shame!” “Murder! Murder!” cried the crowd: and they began to
+press, in the passion of the moment, round the fierce guards.
+
+The Legate heard the cry, and saw the rush: he turned pale. “The rascals
+rebel again!” he faltered.
+
+“No, your Eminence--no,” said Luca; “but it may be as well to infuse a
+wholesome terror; they are all unarmed; let me bid the guards disperse
+them. A word will do it.”
+
+The Cardinal assented; the word was given; and, in a few minutes, the
+soldiery, who still smarted under the vindictive memory of defeat from
+an undisciplined multitude, scattered the crowd down the streets without
+scruple or mercy--riding over some, spearing others--filling the air
+with shrieks and yells, and strewing the ground with almost as many
+men as a few days before would have sufficed to have guarded Rome, and
+preserved the constitution! Through this wild, tumultuous scene, and
+over the bodies of its victims, rode the Legate and his train, to
+receive in the Hall of the Capitol the allegiance of the citizens, and
+to proclaim the return of the oppressors.
+
+As they dismounted at the stairs, a placard in large letters struck
+the eye of the Legate. It was placed upon the pedestal of the Lion of
+Basalt, covering the very place that had been occupied by the bull of
+excommunication. The words were few, and ran thus:
+
+“TREMBLE! RIENZI SHALL RETURN!”
+
+“How! what means this mummery!” cried the Legate, trembling already, and
+looking round to the nobles.
+
+“Please your Eminence,” said one of the councillors, who had come from
+the Capitol to meet the Legate, “we saw it at daybreak, the ink yet
+moist, as we entered the Hall. We deemed it best to leave it for your
+Eminence to deal with.”
+
+“You deemed! Who are you, then?”
+
+“One of the members of the Council, your Eminence, and a stanch opponent
+of the Tribune, as is well known, when he wanted the new tax--”
+
+“Council--trash! No more councils now! Order is restored at last. The
+Orsini and the Colonna will look to you in future. Resist a tax, did
+you? Well, that was right when proposed by a tyrant; but I warn you,
+friend, to take care how you resist the tax we shall impose. Happy
+if your city can buy its peace with the Church on any terms:--and his
+Holiness is short of the florins.”
+
+The discomfited councillor shrank back.
+
+“Tear off yon insolent placard. Nay, hold! fix over it our proclamation
+of ten thousand florins for the heretic’s head! Ten thousand? methinks
+that is too much now--we will alter the cipher. Meanwhile Rinaldo
+Orsini, Lord Senator, march thy soldiers to St. Angelo; let us see if
+the heretic can stand a siege.”
+
+“It needs not, your Eminence,” said the councillor, again officiously
+bustling up; “St. Angelo is surrendered. The Tribune, his wife, and one
+page, escaped last night, it is said, in disguise.”
+
+“Ha!” said the old Colonna, whose dulled sense had at length arrived at
+the conclusion that something extraordinary arrested the progress of his
+friends. “What is the matter? What is that placard? Will no one tell me
+the words? My old eyes are dim.”
+
+As he uttered the questions, in the shrill and piercing treble of age,
+a voice replied in a loud and deep tone--none knew whence it came; the
+crowd was reduced to a few stragglers, chiefly friars in cowl and
+serge, whose curiosity nought could daunt, and whose garb ensured them
+safety--the soldiers closed the rear: a voice, I say, came, startling
+the colour from many a cheek--in answer to the Colonna, saying:
+
+“TREMBLE! RIENZI SHALL RETURN!”
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VI. THE PLAGUE.
+
+     “Erano gli anni della fruttifera Incarnazione del Figliuolo
+     di Dio al numero pervenuti di mille trecento quarant’otto,
+     quando nell’ egregia citta di Fiorenza oltre ad ogni altra
+     Italica bellissima, pervenna la mortifera pestilenza.”--
+     Boccaccio, “Introduzione al Decamerone”.
+
+     “The years of the fructiferous incarnation of the Son of God
+     had reached the number of one thousand three hundred and
+     forty-eight, when into the illustrious city of Florence,
+     beautiful beyond every other in Italy, entered the death-
+     fraught pestilence.”--“Introduction to the Decameron”.
+
+
+
+
+Chapter 6.1. The Retreat of the Lover.
+
+By the borders of one of the fairest lakes of Northern Italy stood the
+favourite mansion of Adrian di Castello, to which in his softer and
+less patriotic moments his imagination had often and fondly turned;
+and thither the young nobleman, dismissing his more courtly and
+distinguished companions in the Neapolitan embassy, retired after his
+ill-starred return to Rome. Most of those thus dismissed joined the
+Barons; the young Annibaldi, whose daring and ambitious nature had
+attached him strongly to the Tribune, maintained a neutral ground; he
+betook himself to his castle in the Campagna, and did not return to Rome
+till the expulsion of Rienzi.
+
+The retreat of Irene’s lover was one well fitted to feed his melancholy
+reveries. Without being absolutely a fortress, it was sufficiently
+strong to resist any assault of the mountain robbers or petty tyrants in
+the vicinity; while, built by some former lord from the materials of
+the half-ruined villas of the ancient Romans, its marbled columns and
+tesselated pavements relieved with a wild grace the grey stone walls and
+massive towers of feudal masonry. Rising from a green eminence gently
+sloping to the lake, the stately pile cast its shadow far and dark over
+the beautiful waters; by its side, from the high and wooded mountains on
+the background, broke a waterfall, in irregular and sinuous course--now
+hid by the foliage, now gleaming in the light, and collecting itself at
+last in a broad basin--beside which a little fountain, inscribed with
+half-obliterated letters, attested the departed elegance of the classic
+age--some memento of lord and poet whose very names were lost; thence
+descending through mosses and lichen, and odorous herbs, a brief,
+sheeted stream bore its surplus into the lake. And there, amidst the
+sturdier and bolder foliage of the North, grew, wild and picturesque,
+many a tree transplanted, in ages back, from the sunnier East; not
+blighted nor stunted in that golden clime, which fosters almost every
+produce of nature as with a mother’s care. The place was remote and
+solitary. The roads that conducted to it from the distant towns were
+tangled, intricate, mountainous, and beset by robbers. A few cottages,
+and a small convent, a quarter of a league up the verdant margin, were
+the nearest habitations; and, save by some occasional pilgrim or some
+bewildered traveller, the loneliness of the mansion was rarely invaded.
+It was precisely the spot which proffered rest to a man weary of the
+world, and indulged the memories which grow in rank luxuriance over the
+wrecks of passion. And he whose mind, at once gentle and self-dependent,
+can endure solitude, might have ransacked all earth for a more fair and
+undisturbed retreat.
+
+But not to such a solitude had the earlier dreams of Adrian dedicated
+the place. Here had he thought--should one bright being have
+presided--here should love have found its haven: and hither, when love
+at length admitted of intrusion, hither might wealth and congenial
+culture have invited all the gentler and better spirits which had begun
+to move over the troubled face of Italy, promising a second and younger
+empire of poesy, and lore, and art. To the graceful and romantic but
+somewhat pensive and inert, temperament of the young noble, more
+adapted to calm and civilized than stormy and barbarous times, ambition
+proffered no reward so grateful as lettered leisure and intellectual
+repose. His youth coloured by the influence of Petrarch, his manhood
+had dreamed of a happier Vaucluse not untenanted by a Laura. The visions
+which had connected the scene with the image of Irene made the place
+still haunted by her shade; and time and absence only ministering to his
+impassioned meditations, deepened his melancholy and increased his love.
+
+In this lone retreat--which even in describing from memory, for these
+eyes have seen, these feet have trodden, this heart yet yearneth for,
+the spot--which even, I say, in thus describing, seems to me (and haply
+also to the gentle reader) a grateful and welcome transit from the
+storms of action and the vicissitudes of ambition, so long engrossing
+the narrative;--in this lone retreat Adrian passed the winter, which
+visits with so mild a change that intoxicating clime. The roar of the
+world without was borne but in faint and indistinct murmurings to his
+ear. He learned only imperfectly, and with many contradictions, the
+news which broke like a thunderbolt over Italy, that the singular and
+aspiring man--himself a revolution--who had excited the interest of all
+Europe, the brightest hopes of the enthusiastic, the profusest adulation
+of the great, the deepest terror of the despot, the wildest aspirations
+of all free spirits, had been suddenly stricken from his state, his name
+branded and his head proscribed. This event, which happened at the
+end of December, reached Adrian, through a wandering pilgrim, at the
+commencement of March, somewhat more than two months after the date; the
+March of that awful year 1348, which saw Europe, and Italy especially,
+desolated by the direst pestilence which history has recorded, accursed
+alike by the numbers and the celebrity of its victims, and yet strangely
+connected with some not unpleasing images by the grace of Boccaccio and
+the eloquence of Petrarch.
+
+The pilgrim who informed Adrian of the revolution at Rome was unable to
+give him any clue to the present fate of Rienzi or his family. It was
+only known that the Tribune and his wife had escaped, none knew whither;
+many guessed that they were already dead, victims to the numerous
+robbers who immediately on the fall of the Tribune settled back to their
+former habits, sparing neither age nor sex, wealth nor poverty. As all
+relating to the ex-Tribune was matter of eager interest, the pilgrim had
+also learned that, previous to the fall of Rienzi, his sister had left
+Rome, but it was not known to what place she had been conveyed.
+
+The news utterly roused Adrian from his dreaming life. Irene was then
+in the condition his letter dared to picture--severed from her brother,
+fallen from her rank, desolate and friendless. “Now,” said the generous
+and high-hearted lover, “she may be mine without a disgrace to my name.
+Whatever Rienzi’s faults, she is not implicated in them. Her hands are
+not red with my kinsman’s blood; nor can men say that Adrian di Castello
+allies himself with a House whose power is built upon the ruins of
+the Colonnas. The Colonna are restored--again triumphant--Rienzi is
+nothing--distress and misfortune unite me at once to her on whom they
+fall!”
+
+But how were these romantic resolutions to be executed--Irene’s
+dwelling-place unknown? He resolved himself to repair to Rome and make
+the necessary inquiries: accordingly he summoned his retainers:--blithe
+tidings to them, those of travel! The mail left the armoury--the banner
+the hall--and after two days of animated bustle, the fountain by which
+Adrian had passed so many hours of revery was haunted only by the
+birds of the returning spring; and the nightly lamp no longer cast its
+solitary ray from his turret chamber over the bosom of the deserted
+lake.
+
+
+
+Chapter 6.II. The Seeker.
+
+It was a bright, oppressive, sultry morning, when a solitary horseman
+was seen winding that unequalled road, from whose height, amidst
+figtrees, vines, and olives, the traveller beholds gradually break upon
+his gaze the enchanting valley of the Arno, and the spires and domes of
+Florence. But not with the traveller’s customary eye of admiration and
+delight passed that solitary horseman, and not upon the usual activity,
+and mirth, and animation of the Tuscan life, broke that noon-day sun.
+All was silent, void, and hushed; and even in the light of heaven there
+seemed a sicklied and ghastly glare. The cottages by the road-side were
+some shut up and closed, some open, but seemingly inmateless. The plough
+stood still, the distaff plied not: horse and man had a dreary holiday.
+There was a darker curse upon the land than the curse of Cain! Now
+and then a single figure, usually clad in the gloomy robe of a friar,
+crossed the road, lifting towards the traveller a livid and amazed
+stare, and then hurried on, and vanished beneath some roof, whence
+issued a faint and dying moan, which but for the exceeding stillness
+around could scarcely have pierced the threshold. As the traveller
+neared the city, the scene became less solitary, yet more dread. There
+might be seen carts and litters, thick awnings wrapped closely round
+them, containing those who sought safety in flight, forgetful that the
+Plague was everywhere! And while these gloomy vehicles, conducted by
+horses, gaunt, shadowy skeletons, crawling heavily along, passed by,
+like hearses of the dead, sometimes a cry burst the silence in which
+they moved, and the traveller’s steed started aside, as some wretch, on
+whom the disease had broke forth, was dropped from the vehicle by the
+selfish inhumanity of his comrades, and left to perish by the way.
+Hard by the gate a waggon paused, and a man with a mask threw out its
+contents in a green slimy ditch that bordered the road. These were
+garments and robes of all kind and value; the broidered mantle of the
+gallant, the hood and veil of my lady, and the rags of the peasant.
+While glancing at the labour of the masker, the cavalier beheld a herd
+of swine, gaunt and half famished, run to the spot in the hopes of
+food, and the traveller shuddered to think what food they might have
+anticipated! But ere he reached the gate, those of the animals that had
+been busiest rooting at the infectious heap, dropped down dead amongst
+their fellows. (The same spectacle greeted, and is recorded by,
+Boccaccio.)
+
+“Ho, ho,” said the masker, and his hollow voice sounded yet more hollow
+through his vizard,--“comest thou here to die, stranger? See, thy brave
+mantle of triple-pile and golden broidery will not save thee from the
+gavocciolo. (The tumour that made the fatal symptom.) Ride on, ride
+on;--today fit morsel for thy lady’s kiss, tomorrow too foul for the rat
+and worm!”
+
+Replying not to this hideous welcome, Adrian, for it was he, pursued his
+way. The gates stood wide open: this was the most appalling sign of all,
+for, at first, the most jealous precaution had been taken against the
+ingress of strangers. Now all care, all foresight, all vigilance, were
+vain. And thrice nine warders had died at that single post, and the
+officers to appoint their successors were dead too! Law and Police, and
+the Tribunals of Health, and the Boards of Safety, Death had stopped
+them all! And the Plague killed art itself, social union, the harmony
+and mechanism of civilization, as if they had been bone and flesh!
+
+So, mute and solitary, went on the lover, in his quest of love, resolved
+to find and to save his betrothed, and guided (that faithful and loyal
+knight!) through the Wilderness of Horror by the blessed hope of that
+strange passion, noblest of all when noble, basest of all when base!
+He came into a broad and spacious square lined with palaces, the usual
+haunt of the best and most graceful nobility of Italy. The stranger
+was alone now, and the tramp of his gallant steed sounded ghastly and
+fearful in his own ears, when just as he turned the corner of one of the
+streets that led from it, he saw a woman steal forth with a child in her
+arms, while another, yet in infancy clung to her robe. She held a large
+bunch of flowers to her nostrils, (the fancied and favourite mode to
+prevent infection), and muttered to the children, who were moaning with
+hunger,--“Yes, yes, you shall have food! Plenty of food now for the
+stirring forth. But oh, that stirring forth!”--and she peered about and
+round, lest any of the diseased might be near.
+
+“My friend,” said he, “can you direct me to the convent of--”
+
+“Away, man, away!” shrieked the woman.
+
+“Alas!” said Adrian, with a mournful smile, “can you not see that I am
+not, as yet, one to spread contagion?”
+
+But the woman, unheeding him, fled on; when, after a few paces, she was
+arrested by the child that clung to her.
+
+“Mother, mother!” it cried, “I am sick--I cannot stir.”
+
+The woman halted, tore aside the child’s robe, saw under the arm the
+fatal tumour, and, deserting her own flesh, fled with a shriek along the
+square. The shriek rang long in Adrian’s ears, though not aware of the
+unnatural cause;--the mother feared not for her infant, but herself. The
+voice of Nature was no more heeded in that charnel city than it is in
+the tomb itself! Adrian rode on at a brisker pace, and came at length
+before a stately church; its doors were wide open, and he saw within
+a company of monks (the church had no other worshippers, and they were
+masked) gathered round the altar, and chanting the Miserere Domine;--the
+ministers of God, in a city hitherto boasting the devoutest population
+in Italy, without a flock!
+
+The young Cavalier paused before the door, and waited till the service
+was done, and the monks descended the steps into the street.
+
+“Holy fathers,” said he then, “may I pray your goodness to tell me my
+nearest way to the convent Santa Maria de’ Pazzi?”
+
+“Son,” said one of these featureless spectres, for so they seemed in
+their shroud-like robes, and uncouth vizards,--“son, pass on your
+way, and God be with you. Robbers or revellers may now fill the holy
+cloisters you speak of. The abbess is dead; and many a sister sleeps
+with her. And the nuns have fled from the contagion.”
+
+Adrian half fell from his horse, and, as he still remained rooted to the
+spot, the dark procession swept on, hymning in solemn dirge through the
+desolate street the monastic chaunt--
+
+     “By the Mother and the Son,
+     Death endured and mercy won:
+     Spare us, sinners though we be;
+     Miserere Domine!”
+
+Recovering from his stupor, Adrian regained the brethren, and, as they
+closed the burthen of their song, again accosted them.
+
+“Holy fathers, dismiss me not thus. Perchance the one I seek may yet be
+heard of at the convent. Tell me which way to shape my course.”
+
+“Disturb us not, son,” said the monk who spoke before. “It is an ill
+omen for thee to break thus upon the invocations of the ministers of
+Heaven.”
+
+“Pardon, pardon! I will do ample penance, pay many masses; but I seek a
+dear friend--the way--the way--”
+
+“To the right, till you gain the first bridge. Beyond the third bridge,
+on the riverside, you will find the convent,” said another monk, moved
+by the earnestness of Adrian.
+
+“Bless you, holy father,” faltered forth the Cavalier, and spurred
+his steed in the direction given. The friars heeded him not, but again
+resumed their dirge. Mingled with the sound of his horse’s hoofs on the
+clattering pavement, came to the rider’s ear the imploring line--
+
+“Miserere Domine!”
+
+Impatient, sick at heart, desperate, Adrian flew through the street at
+the full speed of his horse. He passed the marketplace--it was empty
+as the desert;--the gloomy and barricadoed streets, in which the
+countercries of Guelf and Ghibeline had so often cheered on the Chivalry
+and Rank of Florence. Now huddled together in vault and pit, lay Guelf
+and Ghibeline, knightly spurs and beggar’s crutch. To that silence the
+roar even of civil strife would have been a blessing! The first bridge,
+the riverside, the second, the third bridge, all were gained, and Adrian
+at last reined his steed before the walls of the convent. He fastened
+his steed to the porch, in which the door stood ajar, half torn from its
+hinges, traversed the court, gained the opposite door that admitted to
+the main building, came to the jealous grating, now no more a barrier
+from the profane world, and as he there paused a moment to recover
+breath and nerve, wild laughter and loud song, interrupted and mixed
+with oaths, startled his ear. He pushed aside the grated door, entered,
+and, led by the sounds, came to the refectory. In that meeting-place of
+the severe and mortified maids of heaven, he now beheld gathered round
+the upper table, used of yore by the abbess, a strange, disorderly,
+ruffian herd, who at first glance seemed indeed of all ranks, for some
+wore serge, or even rags, others were tricked out in all the bravery
+of satin and velvet, plume and mantle. But a second glance sufficed to
+indicate that the companions were much of the same degree, and that the
+finery of the more showy was but the spoil rent from unguarded palaces
+or tenantless bazaars; for under plumed hats, looped with jewels, were
+grim, unwashed, unshaven faces, over which hung the long locks which the
+professed brethren of the sharp knife and hireling arm had just begun
+to assume, serving them often instead of a mask. Amidst these savage
+revellers were many women, young and middle-aged, foul and fair, and
+Adrian piously shuddered to see amongst the loose robes and uncovered
+necks of the professional harlots the saintly habit and beaded rosary
+of nuns. Flasks of wine, ample viands, gold and silver vessels, mostly
+consecrated to holy rites, strewed the board. As the young Roman paused
+spellbound at the threshold, the man who acted as president of the
+revel, a huge, swarthy ruffian, with a deep scar over his face, which,
+traversing the whole of the left cheek and upper lip, gave his large
+features an aspect preternaturally hideous, called out to him--
+
+“Come in, man--come in! Why stand you there amazed and dumb? We are
+hospitable revellers, and give all men welcome. Here are wine and women.
+My Lord Bishop’s wine and my Lady Abbess’s women!
+
+“Sing hey, sing ho, for the royal DEATH, That scatters a host with
+a single breath; That opens the prison to spoil the palace, And rids
+honest necks from the hangman’s malice. Here’s a health to the Plague!
+Let the mighty ones dread, The poor never lived till the wealthy were
+dead. A health to the Plague! May She ever as now Loose the rogue
+from his chain and the nun from her vow: To the gaoler a sword, to the
+captive a key, Hurrah for Earth’s Curse--‘tis a Blessing to me!”
+
+Ere this fearful stave was concluded, Adrian, sensible that in such
+orgies there was no chance of prosecuting his inquiries, left the
+desecrated chamber and fled, scarcely drawing breath, so great was the
+terror that seized him, till he stood once more in the court amidst the
+hot, sickly, stagnant sunlight, that seemed a fit atmosphere for the
+scenes on which it fell. He resolved, however, not to desert the place
+without making another effort at inquiry; and while he stood without the
+court, musing and doubtful, he saw a small chapel hard by, through whose
+long casement gleamed faintly, and dimmed by the noon-day, the light
+of tapers. He turned towards its porch, entered, and saw beside the
+sanctuary a single nun kneeling in prayer. In the narrow aisle, upon a
+long table, (at either end of which burned the tall dismal tapers whose
+rays had attracted him,) the drapery of several shrouds showed him the
+half-distinct outline of human figures hushed in death. Adrian himself,
+impressed by the sadness and sanctity of the place, and the touching
+sight of that solitary and unselfish watcher of the dead, knelt down and
+intensely prayed.
+
+As he rose, somewhat relieved from the burthen at his heart, the nun
+rose also, and started to perceive him.
+
+“Unhappy man!” said she, in a voice which, low, faint, and solemn,
+sounded as a ghost’s--“what fatality brings thee hither? Seest thou not
+thou art in the presence of clay which the Plague hath touched--thou
+breathest the air which destroys! Hence! and search throughout all the
+desolation for one spot where the Dark Visitor hath not come!”
+
+“Holy maiden,” answered Adrian, “the danger you hazard does not appal
+me;--I seek one whose life is dearer than my own.”
+
+“Thou needest say no more to tell me thou art newly come to Florence!
+Here son forsakes his father, and mother deserts her child. When life
+is most hopeless, these worms of a day cling to it as if it were the
+salvation of immortality! But for me alone, death has no horror. Long
+severed from the world, I have seen my sisterhood perish--the house of
+God desecrated--its altar overthrown, and I care not to survive,--the
+last whom the Pestilence leaves at once unperjured and alive.”
+
+The nun paused a few moments, and then, looking earnestly at
+the healthful countenance and unbroken frame of Adrian, sighed
+heavily--“Stranger, why fly you not?” she said. “Thou mightst as well
+search the crowded vaults and rotten corruption of the dead, as search
+the city for one living.”
+
+“Sister, and bride of the blessed Redeemer!” returned the Roman,
+clasping his hands--“one word I implore thee. Thou art, methinks, of the
+sisterhood of yon dismantled convent; tell me, knowest thou if Irene
+di Gabrini, (The family name of Rienzi was Gabrini.)--guest of the
+late Abbess, sister of the fallen Tribune of Rome,--be yet amongst the
+living?”
+
+“Art thou her brother, then?” said the nun. “Art thou that fallen Sun of
+the Morning?”
+
+“I am her betrothed,” replied Adrian, sadly. “Speak.”
+
+“Oh, flesh! flesh! how art thou victor to the last, even amidst the
+triumphs and in the lazar-house of corruption!” said the nun. “Vain man!
+Think not of such carnal ties; make thy peace with heaven, for thy days
+are surely numbered!”
+
+“Woman!” cried Adrian, impatiently--“talk not to me of myself, nor rail
+against ties whose holiness thou canst not know. I ask thee again, as
+thou thyself hopest for mercy and for pardon, is Irene living?”
+
+The nun was awed by the energy of the young lover, and after a moment,
+which seemed to him an age of agonized suspense, she replied--
+
+“The maiden thou speakest of died not with the general death. In the
+dispersion of the few remaining, she left the convent--I know not
+whither; but she had friends in Florence--their names I cannot tell
+thee.”
+
+“Now bless thee, holy sister! bless thee! How long since she left the
+convent?”
+
+“Four days have passed since the robber and the harlot have seized the
+house of Santa Maria,” replied the nun, groaning: “and they were quick
+successors to the sisterhood.”
+
+“Four days!--and thou canst give me no clue?”
+
+“None--yet stay, young man!”--and the nun, approaching, lowered her
+voice to a hissing whisper--“Ask the Becchini.” (According to the usual
+custom of Florence, the dead were borne to their resting-place on biers,
+supported by citizens of equal rank; but a new trade was created by the
+plague, and men of the lowest dregs of the populace, bribed by immense
+payment, discharged the office of transporting the remains of the
+victims. These were called Becchini.)
+
+Adrian started aside, crossed himself hastily, and quitted the convent
+without answer. He returned to his horse, and rode back into the
+silenced heart of the city. Tavern and hotel there were no more; but
+the palaces of dead princes were free to the living stranger. He entered
+one--a spacious and splendid mansion. In the stables he found forage
+still in the manger; but the horses, at that time in the Italian cities
+a proof of rank as well as wealth, were gone with the hands that fed
+them. The highborn Knight assumed the office of groom, took off the
+heavy harness, fastened his steed to the rack, and as the wearied
+animal, unconscious of the surrounding horrors, fell eagerly upon its
+meal, its young lord turned away, and muttered, “Faithful servant, and
+sole companion! may the pestilence that spareth neither beast nor man,
+spare thee! and mayst thou bear me hence with a lighter heart!”
+
+A spacious hall, hung with arms and banners--a wide flight of marble
+stairs, whose walls were painted in the stiff outlines and gorgeous
+colours of the day, conducted to vast chambers, hung with velvets
+and cloth of gold, but silent as the tomb. He threw himself upon the
+cushions which were piled in the centre of the room, for he had ridden
+far that morning, and for many days before, and he was wearied and
+exhausted, body and limb; but he could not rest. Impatience, anxiety,
+hope, and fear, gnawed his heart and fevered his veins, and, after a
+brief and unsatisfactory attempt to sober his own thoughts, and devise
+some plan of search more certain than that which chance might afford
+him, he rose, and traversed the apartments, in the unacknowledged hope
+which chance alone could suggest.
+
+It was easy to see that he had made his resting-place in the home of
+one of the princes of the land; and the splendour of all around him far
+outshone the barbarous and rude magnificence of the less civilized
+and wealthy Romans. Here, lay the lute as last touched--the gilded and
+illumined volume as last conned; there, were seats drawn familiarly
+together, as when lady and gallant had interchanged whispers last.
+
+“And such,” thought Adrian,--“such desolation may soon swallow up the
+vestige of the unwelcomed guest, as of the vanished lord!”
+
+At length he entered a saloon, in which was a table still spread with
+wine-flasks, goblets of glass, and one of silver, withered flowers,
+half-mouldy fruits, and viands. At one side the arras, folding-doors
+opened to a broad flight of stairs, that descended to a little garden
+at the back of the house, in which a fountain still played sparkling and
+livingly--the only thing, save the stranger, living there! On the steps
+lay a crimson mantle, and by it a lady’s glove. The relics seemed to
+speak to the lover’s heart of a lover’s last wooing and last farewell.
+He groaned aloud, and feeling he should have need of all his strength,
+filled one of the goblets from a half-emptied flask of Cyprus wine. He
+drained the draught--it revived him. “Now,” he said, “once more to my
+task!--I will sally forth,” when suddenly he heard heavy steps along the
+rooms he had quitted--they approached--they entered; and Adrian beheld
+two huge and ill-omened forms stalk into the chamber. They were wrapped
+in black homely draperies, their arms were bare, and they wore large
+shapeless masks, which descended to the breast, leaving only access to
+sight and breath in three small and circular apertures. The Colonna half
+drew his sword, for the forms and aspects of these visitors were not
+such as men think to look upon in safety.
+
+“Oh!” said one, “the palace has a new guest today. Fear us not,
+stranger; there is room,--ay, and wealth enough for all men now in
+Florence! Per Bacco! but there is still one goblet of silver left--how
+comes that?” So saying, the man seized the cup which Adrian had just
+drained, and thrust it into his breast. He then turned to Adrian, whose
+hand was still upon his hilt, and said, with a laugh which came choked
+and muffled through his vizard--“Oh, we cut no throats, Signor; the
+Invisible spares us that trouble. We are honest men, state officers, and
+come but to see if the cart should halt here tonight.”
+
+“Ye are then--”
+
+“Becchini!”
+
+Adrian’s blood ran cold. The Becchino continued--“And keep you this
+house while you rest at Florence, Signor?”
+
+“Yes, if the rightful lord claim it not.”
+
+“Ha! ha! ‘Rightful lord!’ The plague is Lord of all now! Why, I have
+known three gallant companies tenant this palace the last week, and
+have buried them all--all! It is a pleasant house enough, and gives good
+custom. Are you alone?”
+
+“At present, yes.”
+
+“Shew us where you sleep, that we may know where to come for you. You
+won’t want us these three days, I see.”
+
+“Ye are pleasant welcomers!” said Adrian;--“but listen to me. Can ye
+find the living as well as bury the dead? I seek one in this city who,
+if you discover her, shall be worth to you a year of burials!”
+
+“No, no! that is out of our line. As well look for a dropped sand on the
+beach, as for a living being amongst closed houses and yawning vaults;
+but if you will pay the poor gravediggers beforehand, I promise you, you
+shall have the first of a new charnel-house;--it will be finished just
+about your time.”
+
+“There!” said Adrian, flinging the wretches a few pieces of
+gold--“there! and if you would do me a kinder service, leave me, at
+least while living; or I may save you that trouble.” And he turned from
+the room.
+
+The Becchino who had been spokesman followed him. “You are generous,
+Signor, stay; you will want fresher food than these filthy fragments.
+I will supply thee of the best, while--while thou wantest it. And
+hark,--whom wishest thou that I should seek?”
+
+This question arrested Adrian’s departure. He detailed the name, and
+all the particulars he could suggest of Irene; and, with sickened heart,
+described the hair, features, and stature of that lovely and hallowed
+image, which might furnish a theme to the poet, and now gave a clue to
+the gravedigger.
+
+The unhallowed apparition shook his head when Adrian had concluded.
+“Full five hundred such descriptions did I hear in the first days of the
+Plague, when there were still such things as mistress and lover; but
+it is a dainty catalogue, Signor, and it will be a pride to the poor
+Becchino to discover or even to bury so many charms! I will do my best;
+meanwhile, I can recommend you, if in a hurry, to make the best use of
+your time, to many a pretty face and comely shape--”
+
+“Out, fiend!” muttered Adrian: “fool to waste time with such as thou!”
+
+The laugh of the gravedigger followed his steps.
+
+All that day did Adrian wander through the city, but search and question
+were alike unavailing; all whom he encountered and interrogated seemed
+to regard him as a madman, and these were indeed of no kind likely
+to advance his object. Wild troops of disordered, drunken revellers,
+processions of monks, or here and there, scattered individuals gliding
+rapidly along, and shunning all approach or speech, made the only
+haunters of the dismal streets, till the sun sunk, lurid and yellow,
+behind the hills, and Darkness closed around the noiseless pathway of
+the Pestilence.
+
+
+
+Chapter 6.III. The Flowers Amidst the Tombs.
+
+Adrian found that the Becchino had taken care that famine should not
+forestall the plague; the banquet of the dead was removed, and
+fresh viands and wines of all kinds,--for there was plenty then in
+Florence!--spread the table. He partook of the refreshment, though but
+sparingly, and shrinking from repose in beds beneath whose gorgeous
+hangings Death had been so lately busy, carefully closed door and
+window, wrapped himself in his mantle, and found his resting-place on
+the cushions of the chamber in which he had supped. Fatigue cast him
+into an unquiet slumber, from which he was suddenly awakened by the
+roll of a cart below, and the jingle of bells. He listened, as the cart
+proceeded slowly from door to door, and at length its sound died away in
+the distance.--He slept no more that night!
+
+The sun had not long risen ere he renewed his labours; and it was yet
+early when, just as he passed a church, two ladies richly dressed came
+from the porch, and seemed through their vizards to regard the young
+Cavalier with earnest attention. The gaze arrested him also, when one of
+the ladies said, “Fair sir, you are overbold: you wear no mask; neither
+do you smell to flowers.”
+
+“Lady, I wear no mask, for I would be seen: I search these miserable
+places for one in whose life I live.”
+
+“He is young, comely, evidently noble, and the plague hath not touched
+him: he will serve our purpose well,” whispered one of the ladies to the
+other.
+
+“You echo my own thoughts,” returned her companion; and then turning to
+Adrian, she said, “You seek one you are not wedded to, if you seek so
+fondly?”
+
+“It is true.”
+
+“Young and fair, with dark hair and neck of snow; I will conduct you to
+her.”
+
+“Signor!”
+
+“Follow us!”
+
+“Know you who I am, and whom I seek?”
+
+“Yes.”
+
+“Can you in truth tell me aught of Irene?”
+
+“I can: follow me.”
+
+“To her?”
+
+“Yes, yes: follow us!”
+
+The ladies moved on as if impatient of further parley. Amazed, doubtful,
+and, as if in a dream, Adrian followed them. Their dress, manner, and
+the pure Tuscan of the one who had addressed him, indicated them of
+birth and station; but all else was a riddle which he could not solve.
+
+They arrived at one of the bridges, where a litter and a servant on
+horseback holding a palfrey by the bridle were in attendance. The ladies
+entered the litter, and she who had before spoken bade Adrian follow on
+the palfrey.
+
+“But tell me--” he began.
+
+“No questions, Cavalier,” said she, impatiently; “follow the living in
+silence, or remain with the dead, as you list.”
+
+With that the litter proceeded, and Adrian mounted the palfrey
+wonderingly, and followed his strange conductors, who moved on at a
+tolerably brisk pace. They crossed the bridge, left the river on one
+side, and, soon ascending a gentle acclivity, the trees and flowers
+of the country began to succeed dull walls and empty streets. After
+proceeding thus somewhat less than half an hour, they turned up a green
+lane remote from the road, and came suddenly upon the porticoes of a
+fair and stately palace. Here the ladies descended from their litter;
+and Adrian, who had vainly sought to extract speech from the attendant,
+also dismounted, and following them across a spacious court, filled on
+either side with vases of flowers and orange-trees, and then through a
+wide hall in the farther side of the quadrangle, found himself in one of
+the loveliest spots eye ever saw or poet ever sung. It was a garden plot
+of the most emerald verdure, bosquets of laurel and of myrtle opened on
+either side into vistas half overhung with clematis and rose, through
+whose arcades the prospect closed with statues and gushing fountains; in
+front, the lawn was bounded by rows of vases on marble pedestals filled
+with flowers, and broad and gradual flights of steps of the whitest
+marble led from terrace to terrace, each adorned with statues and
+fountains, half way down a high but softly sloping and verdant hill.
+Beyond, spread in wide, various, and luxurious landscape, the vineyards
+and olive-groves, the villas and villages, of the Vale of Arno,
+intersected by the silver river, while the city, in all its calm, but
+without its horror, raised its roofs and spires to the sun. Birds of
+every hue and song, some free, some in net-work of golden wire, warbled
+round; and upon the centre of the sward reclined four ladies unmasked
+and richly dressed, the eldest of whom seemed scarcely more than twenty;
+and five cavaliers, young and handsome, whose jewelled vests and golden
+chains attested their degree. Wines and fruits were on a low table
+beside; and musical instruments, chess-boards, and gammon-tables, lay
+scattered all about. So fair a group, and so graceful a scene, Adrian
+never beheld but once, and that was in the midst of the ghastly
+pestilence of Italy!--such group and such scene our closet indolence may
+yet revive in the pages of the bright Boccaccio!
+
+On seeing Adrian and his companions approach, the party rose instantly;
+and one of the ladies, who wore upon her head a wreath of laurel-leaves,
+stepping before the rest, exclaimed, “well done, my Mariana! welcome
+back, my fair subjects. And you, sir, welcome hither.”
+
+The two guides of the Colonna had by this time removed their masks; and
+the one who had accosted him, shaking her long and raven ringlets over a
+bright, laughing eye and a cheek to whose native olive now rose a slight
+blush, turned to him ere he could reply to the welcome he had received.
+
+“Signor Cavalier,” said she, “you now see to what I have decoyed you.
+Own that this is pleasanter than the sights and sounds of the city we
+have left. You gaze on me in surprise. See, my Queen, how speechless
+the marvel of your court has made our new gallant; I assure you he
+could talk quickly enough when he had only us to confer with: nay, I was
+forced to impose silence on him.”
+
+“Oh! then you have not yet informed him of the custom and origin of the
+court he enters!” quoth she of the laurel wreath.
+
+“No, my Queen; I thought all description given in such a spot as our
+poor Florence now is would fail of its object. My task is done, I resign
+him to your Grace!”
+
+So saying the lady tripped lightly away, and began coquettishly sleeking
+her locks in the smooth mirror of a marble basin, whose waters trickled
+over the margin upon the grass below, ever and anon glancing archly
+towards the stranger, and sufficiently at hand to overhear all that was
+said.
+
+“In the first place, Signor, permit us to inquire,” said the lady who
+bore the appellation of Queen, “thy name, rank, and birth-place.”
+
+“Madam,” returned Adrian, “I came hither little dreaming to answer
+questions respecting myself; but what it pleases you to ask, it must
+please me to reply to. My name is Adrian di Castello, one of the Roman
+house of the Colonna.”
+
+“A noble column of a noble house!” answered the Queen. “For us,
+respecting whom your curiosity may perhaps be aroused, know that we six
+ladies of Florence, deserted by or deprived of our kin and protectors,
+formed the resolution to retire to this palace, where, if death comes,
+it comes stripped of half its horrors; and as the learned tell us that
+sadness engenders the awful malady, so you see us sworn foes to sadness.
+Six cavaliers of our acquaintance agreed to join us. We pass our days,
+whether many or few, in whatever diversions we can find or invent. Music
+and the dance, merry tales and lively songs, with such slight change of
+scene as from sward to shade, from alley to fountain, fill up our time,
+and prepare us for peaceful sleep and happy dreams. Each lady is by
+turns Queen of our fairy court, as is my lot this day. One law forms the
+code of our constitution--that nothing sad shall be admitted. We would
+live as if yonder city were not, and as if (added the fair Queen, with a
+slight sigh) youth, grace, and beauty, could endure for ever. One of our
+knights madly left us for a day, promising to return; we have seen him
+no more; we will not guess what hath chanced to him. It became necessary
+to fill up his place; we drew lots who should seek his substitute;
+it fell upon the ladies who have--not, I trust, to your
+displeasure--brought you hither. Fair sir, my explanation is made.”
+
+“Alas, lovely Queen,” said Adrian, wrestling strongly, but vainly,
+with the bitter disappointment he felt--“I cannot be one of your happy
+circle; I am in myself a violation of your law. I am filled with but one
+sad and anxious thought, to which all mirth would seem impiety. I am a
+seeker amongst the living and the dead for one being of whose fate I
+am uncertain; and it was only by the words that fell from my fair
+conductor, that I have been decoyed hither from my mournful task. Suffer
+me, gracious lady, to return to Florence.”
+
+The Queen looked in mute vexation towards the dark-eyed Mariana,
+who returned the glance by one equally expressive, and then suddenly
+stepping up to Adrian she said,--
+
+“But, Signor, if I should still keep my promise, if I should be able to
+satisfy thee of the health and safety of--of Irene.”
+
+“Irene!” echoed Adrian in surprise, forgetful at the moment that he had
+before revealed the name of her he sought--“Irene--Irene di Gabrini,
+sister of the once renowned Rienzi!”
+
+“The same,” replied Mariana, quickly; “I know her, as I told you. Nay,
+Signor, I do not deceive thee. It is true that I cannot bring thee to
+her; but better as it is,--she went away many days ago to one of the
+towns of Lombardy, which, they say, the Pestilence has not yet pierced.
+Now, noble sir, is not your heart lightened? and will you so soon be a
+deserter from the Court of Loveliness; and perhaps,” she added, with a
+soft look from her large dark eyes, “of Love?”
+
+“Dare I, in truth, believe you, Lady?” said Adrian, all delighted, yet
+still half doubting.
+
+“Would I deceive a true lover, as methinks you are? Be assured. Nay,
+Queen, receive your subject.”
+
+The Queen extended her hand to Adrian, and led him to the group that
+still stood on the grass at a little distance. They welcomed him as a
+brother, and soon forgave his abstracted courtesies, in compliment to
+his good mien and illustrious name.
+
+The Queen clapped her hands, and the party again ranged themselves
+on the sward. Each lady beside each gallant. “You, Mariana, if not
+fatigued,” said the Queen, “shall take the lute and silence these noisy
+grasshoppers, which chirp about us with as much pretension as if they
+were nightingales. Sing, sweet subject, sing; and let it be the song our
+dear friend, Signor Visdomini, (I know not if this be the same Visdomini
+who, three years afterwards, with one of the Medici, conducted so
+gallant a reinforcement to Scarperia, then besieged by Visconti
+d’Oleggio.) made for a kind of inaugural anthem to such as we admitted
+to our court.”
+
+Mariana, who had reclined herself by the side of Adrian, took up the
+lute, and, after a short prelude, sung the words thus imperfectly
+translated:--
+
+The Song of the Florentine Lady.
+
+Enjoy the more the smiles of noon If doubtful be the morrow; And know
+the Fort of Life is soon Betray’d to Death by Sorrow!
+
+Death claims us all--then, Grief, away! We’ll own no meaner master; The
+clouds that darken round the day But bring the night the faster.
+
+Love--feast--be merry while on earth, Such, Grave, should be thy moral!
+Ev’n Death himself is friends with Mirth, And veils the tomb with
+laurel. (At that time, in Italy, the laurel was frequently planted over
+the dead.)
+
+While gazing on the eyes I love, New life to mine is given--If joy the
+lot of saints above, Joy fits us best for Heaven.
+
+To this song, which was much applauded, succeeded those light and witty
+tales in which the Italian novelists furnished Voltaire and Marmontel
+with a model--each, in his or her turn, taking up the discourse, and
+with an equal dexterity avoiding every lugubrious image or mournful
+reflection that might remind those graceful idlers of the vicinity of
+Death. At any other time the temper and accomplishments of the young
+Lord di Castello would have fitted him to enjoy and to shine in that
+Arcadian court. But now he in vain sought to dispel the gloom from
+his brow, and the anxious thought from his heart. He revolved the
+intelligence he had received, wondered, guessed, hoped, and dreaded
+still; and if for a moment his mind returned to the scene about him, his
+nature, too truly poetical for the false sentiment of the place,
+asked itself in what, save the polished exterior and the graceful
+circumstance, the mirth that he now so reluctantly witnessed differed
+from the brutal revels in the convent of Santa Maria--each alike in its
+motive, though so differing in the manner--equally callous and equally
+selfish, coining horror into enjoyment. The fair Mariana, whose partner
+had been reft from her, as the Queen had related, was in no mind to lose
+the new one she had gained. She pressed upon him from time to time the
+wine-flask and the fruits; and in those unmeaning courtesies her
+hand gently lingered upon his. At length, the hour arrived when the
+companions retired to the Palace, during the fiercer heats of noon--to
+come forth again in the declining sun, to sup by the side of the
+fountain, to dance, to sing, and to make merry by torchlight and the
+stars till the hour of rest. But Adrian, not willing to continue the
+entertainment, no sooner found himself in the apartment to which he
+was conducted, than he resolved to effect a silent escape, as under
+all circumstances the shortest, and not perhaps the least courteous,
+farewell left to him. Accordingly, when all seemed quiet and hushed in
+the repose common to the inhabitants of the South during that hour, he
+left his apartment, descended the stairs, passed the outer court, and
+was already at the gate, when he heard himself called by a voice that
+spoke vexation and alarm. He turned to behold Mariana.
+
+“Why, how now, Signor di Castello, is our company so unpleasing, is our
+music so jarring, or are our brows so wrinkled, that you should fly as
+the traveller flies from the witches he surprises at Benevento? Nay, you
+cannot mean to leave us yet?”
+
+“Fair dame,” returned the cavalier, somewhat disconcerted, “it is in
+vain that I seek to rally my mournful spirits, or to fit myself for the
+court to which nothing sad should come. Your laws hang about me like a
+culprit--better timely flight than harsh expulsion.”
+
+As he spoke he moved on, and would have passed the gate, but Mariana
+caught his arm.
+
+“Nay,” said she, softly; “are there no eyes of dark light, and no neck
+of wintry snow, that can compensate to thee for the absent one? Tarry
+and forget, as doubtless in absence even thou art forgotten!”
+
+“Lady,” answered Adrian, with great gravity, not unmixed with an
+ill-suppressed disdain, “I have not sojourned long enough amidst the
+sights and sounds of woe, to blunt my heart and spirit into callousness
+to all around. Enjoy, if thou canst, and gather the rank roses of the
+sepulchre; but to me, haunted still by funeral images, Beauty fails to
+bring delight, and Love,--even holy love--seems darkened by the Shadow
+of Death. Pardon me, and farewell.”
+
+“Go, then,” said the Florentine, stung and enraged at his coldness; “go
+and find your mistress amidst the associations on which it pleases your
+philosophy to dwell. I did but deceive thee, blind fool! as I had hoped
+for thine own good, when I told thee Irene--(was that her name?)--was
+gone from Florence. Of her I know nought, and heard nought, save from
+thee. Go back and search the vault, and see whether thou lovest her
+still!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 6.IV. We Obtain What We Seek, and Know it Not.
+
+In the fiercest heat of the day, and on foot, Adrian returned to
+Florence. As he approached the city, all that festive and gallant scene
+he had quitted seemed to him like a dream; a vision of the gardens and
+bowers of an enchantress, from which he woke abruptly as a criminal
+may wake on the morning of his doom to see the scaffold and the
+deathsman;--so much did each silent and lonely step into the funeral
+city bring back his bewildered thoughts at once to life and to death.
+The parting words of Mariana sounded like a knell at his heart. And
+now as he passed on--the heat of the day, the lurid atmosphere, long
+fatigue, alternate exhaustion and excitement, combining with the
+sickness of disappointment, the fretting consciousness of precious
+moments irretrievably lost, and his utter despair of forming any
+systematic mode of search--fever began rapidly to burn through his
+veins. His temples felt oppressed as with the weight of a mountain; his
+lips parched with intolerable thirst; his strength seemed suddenly to
+desert him; and it was with pain and labour that he dragged one languid
+limb after the other.
+
+“I feel it,” thought he, with the loathing nausea and shivering dread
+with which nature struggles ever against death; “I feel it upon me--the
+Devouring and the Viewless--I shall perish, and without saving her; nor
+shall even one grave contain us!”
+
+But these thoughts served rapidly to augment the disease which began to
+prey upon him; and ere he reached the interior of the city, even thought
+itself forsook him. The images of men and houses grew indistinct and
+shadowy before his eyes; the burning pavement became unsteady and
+reeling beneath his feet; delirium gathered over him, and he went on his
+way muttering broken and incoherent words; the few who met fled from
+him in dismay. Even the monks, still continuing their solemn and sad
+processions, passed with a murmured bene vobis to the other side from
+that on which his steps swerved and faltered. And from a booth at the
+corner of a street, four Becchini, drinking together, fixed upon him
+from their black masks the gaze that vultures fix upon some dying
+wanderer of the desert. Still he crept on, stretching out his arms like
+a man in the dark, and seeking with the vague sense that yet struggled
+against the gathering delirium, to find out the mansion in which he
+had fixed his home; though many as fair to live, and as meet to die in,
+stood with open portals before and beside his path.
+
+“Irene, Irene!” he cried, sometimes in a muttered and low tone,
+sometimes in a wild and piercing shriek, “where art thou? Where? I come
+to snatch thee from them; they shall not have thee, the foul and ugly
+fiends! Pah! how the air smells of dead flesh! Irene, Irene! we will
+away to mine own palace and the heavenly lake--Irene!”
+
+While thus benighted, and thus exclaiming, two females suddenly emerged
+from a neighbouring house, masked and mantled.
+
+“Vain wisdom!” said the taller and slighter of the two, whose mantle, it
+is here necessary to observe, was of a deep blue, richly broidered with
+silver, of a shape and a colour not common in Florence, but usual in
+Rome, where the dress of ladies of the higher rank was singularly bright
+in hue and ample in fold--thus differing from the simpler and more
+slender draperies of the Tuscan fashion--“Vain wisdom, to fly a
+relentless and certain doom!”
+
+“Why, thou wouldst not have us hold the same home with three of the
+dead in the next chamber--strangers too to us--when Florence has so many
+empty halls? Trust me, we shall not walk far ere we suit ourselves with
+a safer lodgment.”
+
+“Hitherto, indeed, we have been miraculously preserved,” sighed the
+other, whose voice and shape were those of extreme youth; “yet would
+that we knew where to fly--what mount, what wood, what cavern, held my
+brother and his faithful Nina! I am sick with horrors!”
+
+“Irene, Irene! Well then, if thou art at Milan or some Lombard town, why
+do I linger here? To horse, to horse! Oh, no! no!--not the horse with
+the bells! not the death-cart.” With a cry, a shriek, louder than
+the loudest of the sick man’s, broke that young female away from her
+companion. It seemed as if a single step took her to the side of Adrian.
+She caught his arm--she looked in his face--she met his unconscious eyes
+bright with a fearful fire. “It has seized him!”--(she then said in a
+deep but calm tone)--“the Plague!”
+
+“Away, away! are you mad?” cried her companion; “hence, hence,--touch me
+not now thou hast touched him--go!--here we part!”
+
+“Help me to bear him somewhere, see, he faints, he droops, he
+falls!--help me, dear Signora, for pity, for the love of God!”
+
+But, wholly possessed by the selfish fear which overcame all humanity
+in that miserable time, the elder woman, though naturally kind, pitiful,
+and benevolent, fled rapidly away, and soon vanished. Thus left alone
+with Adrian, who had now, in the fierceness of the fever that preyed
+within him, fallen on the ground, the strength and nerve of that young
+girl did not forsake her. She tore off the heavy mantle which encumbered
+her arms, and cast it from her; and then, lifting up the face of her
+lover--for who but Irene was that weak woman, thus shrinking not from
+the contagion of death?--she supported him on her breast, and called
+aloud and again for help. At length the Becchini, in the booth before
+noticed, (hardened in their profession, and who, thus hardened,
+better than the most cautious, escaped the pestilence,) lazily
+approached--“Quicker, quicker, for Christ’s love!” said Irene. “I have
+much gold; I will reward you well: help me to bear him under the nearest
+roof.”
+
+“Leave him to us, young lady: we have had our eye upon him,” said one of
+the gravediggers. “We’ll do our duty by him, first and last.”
+
+“No--no! touch not his head--that is my care. There, I will help you;
+so,--now then,--but be gentle!”
+
+Assisted by these portentous officers, Irene, who would not release
+her hold, but seemed to watch over the beloved eyes and lips, (set and
+closed as they were,) as if to look back the soul from parting, bore
+Adrian into a neighbouring house, and laid him on a bed; from which
+Irene (preserving as only women do, in such times, the presence of mind
+and vigilant providence which make so sublime a contrast with their
+keen susceptibilities) caused them first to cast off the draperies and
+clothing, which might retain additional infection. She then despatched
+them for new furniture, and for whatsoever leech money might yet bribe
+to a duty, now chiefly abandoned to those heroic Brotherhoods who,
+however vilified in modern judgment by the crimes of some unworthy
+members, were yet, in the dark times, the best, the bravest, and the
+holiest agents, to whom God ever delegated the power to resist the
+oppressor--to feed the hungry--to minister to woe; and who, alone,
+amidst that fiery Pestilence, (loosed, as it were, a demon from the
+abyss, to shiver into atoms all that binds the world to Virtue and to
+Law,) seemed to awaken, as by the sound of an angel’s trumpet, to that
+noblest Chivalry of the Cross--whose faith is the scorn of self--whose
+hope is beyond the Lazar-house--whose feet, already winded for
+immortality, trample, with a conqueror’s march, upon the graves of
+Death!
+
+While this the ministry and the office of love,--along that street in
+which Adrian and Irene had met at last--came singing, reeling, roaring,
+the dissolute and abandoned crew who had fixed their quarters in the
+Convent of Santa Maria de’ Pazzi, their bravo chief at their head, and
+a nun (no longer in nun’s garments) upon either arm. “A health to the
+Plague!” shouted the ruffian: “A health to the Plague!” echoed his
+frantic Bacchanals.
+
+“A health to the Plague, may she ever, as now, Loose the rogue from his
+chain, and the nun from her vow; To the gaoler a sword--to the captive a
+key, Hurrah for Earth’s Curse! ‘tis a blessing to me.”
+
+“Holla!” cried the chief, stopping; “here, Margherita; here’s a brave
+cloak for thee, my girl: silver enow on it to fill thy purse, if it ever
+grow empty; which it may, if ever the Plague grow slack.”
+
+“Nay,” said the girl, who, amidst all the havoc of debauch, retained
+much of youth and beauty in her form and face; “nay, Guidotto; perhaps it
+has infection.”
+
+“Pooh, child, silver never infects. Clap it on, clap it on. Besides,
+fate is fate, and when it is thine hour there will be other means
+besides the gavocciolo.”
+
+So saying, he seized the mantle, threw it roughly over her shoulders,
+and dragged her on as before, half pleased with the finery, half
+frightened with the danger; while gradually died away, along the lurid
+air and the mournful streets, the chant of that most miserable mirth.
+
+
+
+Chapter 6.V. The Error.
+
+For three days, the fatal three days, did Adrian remain bereft of
+strength and sense. But he was not smitten by the scourge which
+his devoted and generous nurse had anticipated. It was a fierce and
+dangerous fever, brought on by the great fatigue, restlessness, and
+terrible agitation he had undergone.
+
+No professional mediciner could be found to attend him; but a good
+friar, better perhaps skilled in the healing art than many who claimed
+its monopoly, visited him daily. And in the long and frequent absences
+to which his other and numerous duties compelled the monk, there was one
+ever at hand to smooth the pillow, to wipe the brow, to listen to the
+moan, to watch the sleep. And even in that dismal office, when, in
+the frenzy of the sufferer, her name, coupled with terms of passionate
+endearment, broke from his lips, a thrill of strange pleasure crossed
+the heart of the betrothed, which she chid as if it were a crime. But
+even the most unearthly love is selfish in the rapture of being loved!
+Words cannot tell, heart cannot divine, the mingled emotions that broke
+over her when, in some of these incoherent ravings, she dimly understood
+that for her the city had been sought, the death dared, the danger
+incurred. And as then bending passionately to kiss that burning brow,
+her tears fell fast over the idol of her youth, the fountains from which
+they gushed were those, fathomless and countless, which a life could not
+weep away. Not an impulse of the human and the woman heart that was not
+stirred; the adoring gratitude, the meek wonder thus to be loved, while
+deeming it so simple a merit thus to love;--as if all sacrifice in her
+were a thing of course,--to her, a virtue nature could not paragon,
+worlds could not repay! And there he lay, the victim to his own fearless
+faith, helpless--dependent upon her--a thing between life and death,
+to thank, to serve--to be proud of, yet protect, to compassionate, yet
+revere--the saver, to be saved! Never seemed one object to demand at
+once from a single heart so many and so profound emotions; the romantic
+enthusiasm of the girl--the fond idolatry of the bride--the watchful
+providence of the mother over her child.
+
+And strange to say, with all the excitement of that lonely watch,
+scarcely stirring from his side, taking food only that her strength
+might not fail her,--unable to close her eyes,--though, from the same
+cause, she would fain have taken rest, when slumber fell upon her
+charge--with all such wear and tear of frame and heart, she seemed
+wonderfully supported. And the holy man marvelled, in each visit, to see
+the cheek of the nurse still fresh, and her eye still bright. In her
+own superstition she thought and felt that Heaven gifted her with a
+preternatural power to be true to so sacred a charge; and in this fancy
+she did not wholly err:--for Heaven did gift her with that diviner
+power, when it planted in so soft a heart the enduring might and energy
+of Affection! The friar had visited the sick man late on the third
+night, and administered to him a strong sedative. “This night,” said he
+to Irene, “will be the crisis: should he awaken, as I trust he may, with
+a returning consciousness, and a calm pulse, he will live; if not, young
+daughter, prepare for the worst. But should you note any turn in the
+disease, that may excite alarm, or require my attendance, this scroll
+will inform you where I am, if God spare me still, at each hour of the
+night and morning.”
+
+The monk retired, and Irene resumed her watch.
+
+The sleep of Adrian was at first broken and interrupted--his features,
+his exclamations, his gestures, all evinced great agony, whether mental
+or bodily: it seemed, as perhaps it was, a fierce and doubtful struggle
+between life and death for the conquest of the sleeper. Patient, silent,
+breathing but by long-drawn gasps, Irene sate at the bed-head. The lamp
+was removed to the further end of the chamber, and its ray, shaded by
+the draperies, did not suffice to give to her gaze more than the outline
+of the countenance she watched. In that awful suspense, all the thoughts
+that hitherto had stirred her mind lay hushed and mute. She was only
+sensible to that unutterable fear which few of us have been happy enough
+not to know. That crushing weight under which we can scarcely breathe
+or move, the avalanche over us, freezing and suspended, which we
+cannot escape from, beneath which, every moment, we may be buried and
+overwhelmed. The whole destiny of life was in the chances of that single
+night! It was just as Adrian at last seemed to glide into a deeper
+and serener slumber, that the bells of the death-cart broke with their
+boding knell the palpable silence of the streets. Now hushed, now
+revived, as the cart stopped for its gloomy passengers, and coming
+nearer and nearer after every pause. At length she heard the heavy
+wheels stop under the very casement, and a voice deep and muffled
+calling aloud, “Bring out the dead!” She rose, and with a noiseless
+step, passed to secure the door, when the dull lamp gleamed upon the
+dark and shrouded forms of the Becchini.
+
+“You have not marked the door, nor set out the body,” said one gruffly;
+“but this is the third night! He is ready for us.”
+
+“Hush, he sleeps--away, quick, it is not the Plague that seized him.”
+
+“Not the Plague?” growled the Becchino in a disappointed tone;
+“I thought no other illness dared encroach upon the rights of the
+gavocciolo!”
+
+“Go--here’s money; leave us.”
+
+And the grisly carrier sullenly withdrew. The cart moved on, the bell
+renewed its summons, till slowly and faintly the dreadful larum died in
+the distance.
+
+Shading the lamp with her hand, Irene stole to the bed side, fearful
+that the sound and the intrusion had disturbed the slumberer. But his
+face was still locked, as in a vice, with that iron sleep. He stirred
+not--the breath scarcely passed his lips--she felt his pulse, as the
+wan hand lay on the coverlid--there was a slight beat--she was
+contented--removed the light, and, retiring to a corner of the room,
+placed the little cross suspended round her neck upon the table, and
+prayed, in her intense suffering, to Him who had known death, and
+who--Son of Heaven though he was, and Sovereign of the Seraphim--had
+also prayed, in his earthly travail, that the cup might pass away.
+
+The Morning broke, not, as in the North, slowly and through shadow,
+but with the sudden glory with which in those climates Day leaps
+upon earth--like a giant from his sleep. A sudden smile--a burnished
+glow--and night had vanished. Adrian still slept; not a muscle seemed to
+have stirred; the sleep was even heavier than before; the silence became
+a burthen upon the air. Now, in that exceeding torpor so like unto
+death, the solitary watcher became alarmed and terrified. Time
+passed--morning glided to noon--still not a sound nor motion. The
+sun was midway in Heaven--the Friar came not. And now again touching
+Adrian’s pulse, she felt no flutter--she gazed on him, appalled and
+confounded; surely nought living could be so still and pale. “Was it
+indeed sleep, might it not be--” She turned away, sick and frozen; her
+tongue clove to her lips. Why did the father tarry?--she would go to
+him--she would learn the worst--she could forbear no longer. She glanced
+over the scroll the Monk had left her: “From sunrise,” it said, “I shall
+be at the Convent of the Dominicans. Death has stricken many of the
+brethren.” The Convent was at some distance, but she knew the spot, and
+fear would wing her steps. She gave one wistful look at the sleeper and
+rushed from the house. “I shall see thee again presently,” she murmured.
+Alas! what hope can calculate beyond the moment? And who shall claim the
+tenure of ‘The Again?’
+
+It was not many minutes after Irene had left the room, ere, with a long
+sigh, Adrian opened his eyes--an altered and another man; the fever was
+gone, the reviving pulse beat low indeed, but calm. His mind was once
+more master of his body, and, though weak and feeble, the danger was
+past, and life and intellect regained.
+
+“I have slept long,” he muttered; “and oh, such dreams! And methought
+I saw Irene, but could not speak to her, and while I attempted to grasp
+her, her face changed, her form dilated, and I was in the clutch of
+the foul gravedigger. It is late--the sun is high--I must be up and
+stirring. Irene is in Lombardy. No, no; that was a lie, a wicked lie;
+she is at Florence, I must renew my search.”
+
+As this duty came to his remembrance, he rose from the bed--he was
+amazed at his own debility: at first he could not stand without support
+from the wall; by degrees, however, he so far regained the mastery of
+his limbs as to walk, though with effort and pain. A ravening hunger
+preyed upon him, he found some scanty and light food in the chamber,
+which he devoured eagerly. And with scarce less eagerness laved his
+enfeebled form and haggard face with the water that stood at hand. He
+now felt refreshed and invigorated, and began to indue his garments,
+which he found thrown on a heap beside the bed. He gazed with surprise
+and a kind of self-compassion upon his emaciated hands and shrunken
+limbs, and began now to comprehend that he must have had some severe but
+unconscious illness. “Alone, too,” thought he; “no one near to tend me!
+Nature my only nurse! But alas! alas! how long a time may thus have
+been wasted, and my adored Irene--quick, quick, not a moment more will I
+lose.”
+
+He soon found himself in the open street; the air revived him; and that
+morning had sprung up the blessed breeze, the first known for weeks. He
+wandered on very slowly and feebly till he came to a broad square,
+from which, in the vista, might be seen one of the principal gates of
+Florence, and the fig-trees and olive-groves beyond, it was then that
+a Pilgrim of tall stature approached towards him as from the gate; his
+hood was thrown back, and gave to view a countenance of great but
+sad command; a face, in whose high features, massive brow, and proud,
+unshrinking gaze, shaded by an expression of melancholy more stern than
+soft, Nature seemed to have written majesty, and Fate disaster. As in
+that silent and dreary place, these two, the only tenants of the street,
+now encountered, Adrian stopped abruptly, and said in a startled and
+doubting voice: “Do I dream still, or do I behold Rienzi?”
+
+The Pilgrim paused also, as he heard the name, and gazing long on the
+attenuated features of the young lord, said: “I am he that was Rienzi!
+and you, pale shadow, is it in this grave of Italy that I meet with the
+gay and high Colonna? Alas, young friend,” he added, in a more relaxed
+and kindly voice, “hath the Plague not spared the flower of the Roman
+nobles? Come, I, the cruel and the harsh Tribune, I will be thy nurse:
+he who might have been my brother, shall yet claim from me a brother’s
+care.”
+
+With these words he wound his arm tenderly round Adrian; and the young
+noble, touched by his compassion, and agitated by the surprise, leaned
+upon Rienzi’s breast in silence.
+
+“Poor youth,” resumed the Tribune, for so, since rather fallen than
+deposed, he may yet be called; “I ever loved the young, (my brother died
+young;) and you more than most. What fatality brought thee hither?”
+
+“Irene!” replied Adrian, falteringly.
+
+“Is it so, really? Art thou a Colonna, and yet prize the fallen? The
+same duty has brought me also to the city of Death. From the furthest
+south--over the mountains of the robber--through the fastnesses of my
+foes--through towns in which the herald proclaimed in my ear the price
+of my head--I have passed hither, on foot and alone, safe under the
+wings of the Almighty One. Young man, thou shouldst have left this task
+to one who bears a wizard’s life, and whom Heaven and Earth yet reserve
+for an appointed end!”
+
+The Tribune said this in a deep and inward voice; and in his raised eye
+and solemn brow might be seen how much his reverses had deepened his
+fanaticism, and added even to the sanguineness of his hopes.
+
+“But,” asked Adrian, withdrawing gently from Rienzi’s arm, “thou
+knowest, then, where Irene is to be found; let us go together. Lose not
+a moment in this talk; time is of inestimable value, and a moment in
+this city is often but the border to eternity.”
+
+“Right,” said Rienzi, awakening to his object. “But fear not, I have
+dreamt that I shall save her, the gem and darling of my house. Fear not,
+I have no fear.”
+
+“Know you where to seek?” said Adrian, impatiently; “the Convent holds
+far other guests.”
+
+“Ha! so said my dream!”
+
+“Talk not now of dreams,” said the lover; “but if you have no other
+guide, let us part at once in quest of her. I will take yonder street,
+you take the opposite, and at sunset let us meet in the same spot.”
+
+“Rash man!” said the Tribune, with great solemnity; “scoff not at the
+visions which Heaven makes a parable to its Chosen. Thou seekest counsel
+of thy human wisdom; I, less presumptuous, follow the hand of the
+mysterious Providence, moving even now before my gaze as a pillar of
+light through the wilderness of dread. Ay, meet we here at sunset, and
+prove whose guide is the most unerring. If my dream tell me true, I
+shall see my sister living, ere the sun reach yonder hill, and by a
+church dedicated to St. Mark.”
+
+The grave earnestness with which Rienzi spoke impressed Adrian with a
+hope which his reason would not acknowledge. He saw him depart with that
+proud and stately step to which his sweeping garments gave a yet more
+imposing dignity, and then passed up the street to the right hand.
+He had not got half way when he felt himself pulled by the mantle. He
+turned, and saw the shapeless mask of a Becchino.
+
+“I feared you were sped, and that another had cheated me of my office,”
+ said the gravedigger, “seeing that you returned not to the old Prince’s
+palace. You don’t know me from the rest of us I see, but I am the one
+you told to seek--”
+
+“Irene!”
+
+“Yes, Irene di Gabrini; you promised ample reward.”
+
+“You shall have it.”
+
+“Follow me.”
+
+The Becchino strode on, and soon arrived at a mansion. He knocked twice
+at the porter’s entrance, an old woman cautiously opened the door. “Fear
+not, good aunt,” said the gravedigger; “this is the young Lord I spoke
+to thee of. Thou sayest thou hadst two ladies in the palace, who alone
+survived of all the lodgers, and their names were Bianca de Medici,
+and--what was the other?”
+
+“Irene di Gabrini, a Roman lady. But I told thee this was the fourth day
+they left the house, terrified by the deaths within it.”
+
+“Thou didst so: and was there anything remarkable in the dress of the
+Signora di Gabrini?”
+
+“Yes, I have told thee: a blue mantle, such as I have rarely seen,
+wrought with silver.”
+
+“Was the broidery that of stars, silver stars,” exclaimed Adrian, “with
+a sun in the centre?”
+
+“It was.”
+
+“Alas! alas! the arms of the Tribune’s family! I remember how I
+praised the mantle the first day she wore it--the day on which we were
+betrothed!” And the lover at once conjectured the secret sentiment
+which had induced Irene to retain thus carefully a robe so endeared by
+association.
+
+“You know no more of your lodgers?”
+
+“Nothing.”
+
+“And is this all you have learned, knave?” cried Adrian.
+
+“Patience. I must bring you from proof to proof, and link to link, in
+order to win my reward. Follow, Signor.”
+
+The Becchino then passing through the several lanes and streets, arrived
+at another house of less magnificent size and architecture. Again
+he tapped thrice at the parlour door, and this time came forth a man
+withered, old, and palsied, whom death seemed to disdain to strike.
+
+“Signor Astuccio,” said the Becchino, “pardon me; but I told thee I
+might trouble thee again. This is the gentleman who wants to know, what
+is often best unknown--but that’s not my affair. Did a lady--young and
+beautiful--with dark hair, and of a slender form, enter this house,
+stricken with the first symptom of the Plague, three days since?”
+
+“Ay, thou knowest that well enough; and thou knowest still better, that
+she has departed these two days: it was quick work with her, quicker
+than with most!”
+
+“Did she wear anything remarkable?”
+
+“Yes, troublesome man: a blue cloak, with stars of silver.”
+
+“Couldst thou guess aught of her previous circumstances?”
+
+“No, save that she raved much about the nunnery of Santa Maria de’
+Pazzi, and bravos, and sacrilege.”
+
+“Are you satisfied, Signor?” asked the gravedigger, with an air of
+triumph, turning to Adrian. “But no, I will satisfy thee better, if thou
+hast courage. Wilt thou follow?”
+
+“I comprehend thee; lead on. Courage! What is there on earth now to
+fear?”
+
+Muttering to himself, “Ay, leave me alone. I have a head worth
+something; I ask no gentleman to go by my word; I will make his own eyes
+the judge of what my trouble is worth,” the gravedigger now led the way
+through one of the gates a little out of the city. And here, under a
+shed, sat six of his ghastly and ill-omened brethren, with spades and
+pick-axes at their feet.
+
+His guide now turned round to Adrian, whose face was set, and resolute
+in despair.
+
+“Fair Signor,” said he, with some touch of lingering compassion,
+“wouldst thou really convince thine own eyes and heart?--the sight may
+appal, the contagion may destroy, thee,--if, indeed, as it seems to me,
+Death has not already written ‘mine’ upon thee.”
+
+“Raven of bode and woe!” answered Adrian, “seest thou not that all
+I shrink from is thy voice and aspect? Show me her I seek, living or
+dead.”
+
+“I will show her to you, then,” said the Becchino, sullenly, “such as
+two nights since she was committed to my charge. Line and lineament may
+already be swept away, for the Plague hath a rapid besom; but I have
+left that upon her by which you will know the Becchino is no liar. Bring
+hither the torches, comrades, and lift the door. Never stare; it’s the
+gentleman’s whim, and he’ll pay it well.”
+
+Turning to the right while Adrian mechanically followed his conductors,
+a spectacle whose dire philosophy crushes as with a wheel all the pride
+of mortal man--the spectacle of that vault in which earth hides all that
+on earth flourished, rejoiced, exulted--awaited his eye!
+
+The Becchini lifted a ponderous grate, lowered their torches (scarcely
+needed, for through the aperture rushed, with a hideous glare, the light
+of the burning sun,) and motioned to Adrian to advance. He stood upon
+the summit of the abyss and gazed below.
+
+It was a large deep and circular space, like the bottom of an exhausted
+well. In niches cut into the walls of earth around, lay, duly coffined,
+those who had been the earliest victims of the plague, when the
+Becchino’s market was not yet glutted, and priest followed, and friend
+mourned the dead. But on the floor below, there was the loathsome
+horror! Huddled and matted together--some naked, some in shrouds already
+black and rotten--lay the later guests, the unshriven and unblest! The
+torches, the sun, streamed broad and red over Corruption in all its
+stages, from the pale blue tint and swollen shape, to the moistened
+undistinguishable mass, or the riddled bones, where yet clung, in strips
+and tatters, the black and mangled flesh. In many, the face remained
+almost perfect, while the rest of the body was but bone; the long hair,
+the human face, surmounting the grisly skeleton. There was the infant,
+still on the mother’s breast; there was the lover, stretched across the
+dainty limbs of his adored! The rats, (for they clustered in numbers to
+that feast,) disturbed, not scared, sate up from their horrid meal as
+the light glimmered over them, and thousands of them lay round, stark,
+and dead, poisoned by that they fed on! There, too, the wild satire of
+the gravediggers had cast, though stripped of their gold and jewels, the
+emblems that spoke of departed rank;--the broken wand of the Councillor;
+the General’s baton; the Priestly Mitre! The foul and livid exhalations
+gathered like flesh itself, fungous and putrid, upon the walls, and
+the--
+
+But who shall detail the ineffable and unimaginable horrors that reigned
+over the Palace where the Great King received the prisoners whom the
+sword of the Pestilence had subdued?
+
+But through all that crowded court--crowded with beauty and with birth,
+with the strength of the young and the honours of the old, and the
+valour of the brave, and the wisdom of the learned, and the wit of
+the scorner, and the piety of the faithful--one only figure attracted
+Adrian’s eye. Apart from the rest, a latecomer--the long locks streaming
+far and dark over arm and breast--lay a female, the face turned
+partially aside, the little seen not recognisable even by the mother
+of the dead,--but wrapped round in that fatal mantle, on which, though
+blackened and tarnished, was yet visible the starry heraldry assumed by
+those who claimed the name of the proud Tribune of Rome. Adrian saw no
+more--he fell back in the arms of the gravediggers: when he recovered,
+he was still without the gates of Florence--reclined upon a green
+mound--his guide stood beside him--holding his steed by the bridle as it
+grazed patiently on the neglected grass. The other brethren of the axe
+had resumed their seat under the shed.
+
+“So, you have revived! Ah! I thought it was only the effluvia; few stand
+it as we do. And so, as your search is over, deeming you would now be
+quitting Florence if you have any sense left to you, I went for your
+good horse. I have fed him since your departure from the palace. Indeed
+I fancied he would be my perquisite, but there are plenty as good. Come,
+young sir, mount. I feel a pity for you, I know not why, except that you
+are the only one I have met for weeks who seem to care for another
+more than for yourself. I hope you are satisfied now that I showed some
+brains, eh! in your service; and as I have kept my promise, you’ll keep
+yours.”
+
+“Friend,” said Adrian, “here is gold enough to make thee rich; here,
+too, is a jewel that merchants will tell thee princes might vie to
+purchase. Thou seemest honest, despite thy calling, or thou mightest
+have robbed and murdered me long since. Do me one favour more.”
+
+“By my poor mother’s soul, yes.”
+
+“Take yon--yon clay from that fearful place. Inter it in some quiet and
+remote spot--apart--alone! You promise me?--you swear it?--it is well!
+And now help me on my horse. Farewell Italy, and if I die not with this
+stroke, may I die as befits at once honour and despair--with trumpet and
+banner round me--in a well-fought field against a worthy foe!--Save a
+knightly death, nothing is left to live for!”
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VII. THE PRISON.
+
+     “Fu rinchiuso in una torre grossa e larga; avea libri assai,
+     suo Tito Livio, sue storie di Roma, la Bibbia.” &c.--“Vita
+     di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. ii. c. 13.
+
+     “He was immured in a high and spacious tower; he had books
+     enough, his Titus Livius, his histories of Rome, the Bible,”
+      &c.
+
+
+
+Chapter 7.I. Avignon.--The Two Pages.--The Stranger Beauty.
+
+There is this difference between the Drama of Shakspeare, and that
+of almost every other master of the same art; that in the first, the
+catastrophe is rarely produced by one single cause--one simple and
+continuous chain of events. Various and complicated agencies work out
+the final end. Unfettered by the rules of time and place, each time,
+each place depicted, presents us with its appropriate change of action,
+or of actors. Sometimes the interest seems to halt, to turn aside, to
+bring us unawares upon objects hitherto unnoticed, or upon qualities of
+the characters hitherto hinted at, not developed. But, in reality, the
+pause in the action is but to collect, to gather up, and to grasp, all
+the varieties of circumstance that conduce to the Great Result: and the
+art of fiction is only deserted for the fidelity of history. Whoever
+seeks to place before the world the true representation of a man’s
+life and times, and, enlarging the Dramatic into the Epic, extends
+his narrative over the vicissitudes of years, will find himself
+unconsciously, in this, the imitator of Shakspeare. New characters, each
+conducive to the end--new scenes, each leading to the last, rise before
+him as he proceeds, sometimes seeming to the reader to delay, even while
+they advance, the dread catastrophe. The sacrificial procession sweeps
+along, swelled by new comers, losing many that first joined it; before,
+at last, the same as a whole, but differing in its components, the crowd
+reach the fated bourn of the Altar and the Victim!
+
+It is five years after the date of the events I have recorded, and my
+story conveys us to the Papal Court at Avignon--that tranquil seat of
+power, to which the successors of St. Peter had transplanted the luxury,
+the pomp, and the vices, of the Imperial City. Secure from the fraud or
+violence of a powerful and barbarous nobility, the courtiers of the See
+surrendered themselves to a holyday of delight--their repose was devoted
+to enjoyment, and Avignon presented, at that day, perhaps the gayest
+and most voluptuous society of Europe. The elegance of Clement VI. had
+diffused an air of literary refinement over the grosser pleasures of
+the place, and the spirit of Petrarch still continued to work its way
+through the councils of faction and the orgies of debauch.
+
+Innocent VI. had lately succeeded Clement, and whatever his own claims
+to learning, (Matteo Villani (lib. iii. cap. 44) says, that Innocent VI.
+had not much pretension to learning. He is reported, however, by other
+authorities, cited by Zefirino Re, to have been “eccellente canonista.”
+ He had been a professor in the University of Toulouse.) he, at least,
+appreciated knowledge and intellect in others; so that the graceful
+pedantry of the time continued to mix itself with the pursuit of
+pleasure. The corruption which reigned through the whole place was too
+confirmed to yield to the example of Innocent, himself a man of simple
+habits and exemplary life. Though, like his predecessor, obedient to the
+policy of France, Innocent possessed a hard and an extended ambition.
+Deeply concerned for the interests of the Church, he formed the project
+of confirming and re-establishing her shaken dominion in Italy; and he
+regarded the tyrants of the various states as the principal obstacles
+to his ecclesiastical ambition. Nor was this the policy of Innocent
+VI. alone. With such exceptions as peculiar circumstances necessarily
+occasioned, the Papal See was, upon the whole, friendly to the political
+liberties of Italy. The Republics of the Middle Ages grew up under the
+shadow of the Church; and there, as elsewhere, it was found, contrary
+to a vulgar opinion, that Religion, however prostituted and perverted,
+served for the general protection of civil freedom,--raised the lowly,
+and resisted the oppressor.
+
+At this period there appeared at Avignon a lady of singular and
+matchless beauty. She had come with a slender but well appointed retinue
+from Florence, but declared herself of Neapolitan birth; the widow of
+a noble of the brilliant court of the unfortunate Jane. Her name was
+Cesarini. Arrived at a place where, even in the citadel of Christianity,
+Venus retained her ancient empire, where Love made the prime business of
+life, and to be beautiful was to be of power; the Signora Cesarini had
+scarcely appeared in public before she saw at her feet half the rank and
+gallantry of Avignon. Her female attendants were beset with bribes
+and billets; and nightly, beneath her lattice, was heard the plaintive
+serenade. She entered largely into the gay dissipation of the town, and
+her charms shared the celebrity of the hour with the verse of Petrarch.
+But though she frowned on none, none could claim the monopoly of her
+smiles. Her fair fame was as yet unblemished; but if any might presume
+beyond the rest, she seemed to have selected rather from ambition than
+love, and Giles, the warlike Cardinal d’Albornoz, all powerful at the
+sacred court, already foreboded the hour of his triumph.
+
+It was late noon, and in the ante-chamber of the fair Signora waited
+two of that fraternity of pages, fair and richly clad, who, at that day,
+furnished the favourite attendants to rank of either sex.
+
+“By my troth,” cried one of these young servitors, pushing from him the
+dice with which himself and his companion had sought to beguile their
+leisure, “this is but dull work! and the best part of the day is gone.
+Our lady is late.”
+
+“And I have donned my new velvet mantle,” replied the other,
+compassionately eyeing his finery.
+
+“Chut, Giacomo,” said his comrade, yawning; “a truce with thy
+conceit.--What news abroad, I wonder? Has his Holiness come to his
+senses yet?”
+
+“His senses! what, is he mad then?” quoth Giacomo, in a serious and
+astonished whisper.
+
+“I think he is; if, being Pope, he does not discover that he may at
+length lay aside mask and hood. ‘Continent Cardinal--lewd Pope,’ is the
+old motto, you know; something must be the matter with the good man’s
+brain if he continue to live like a hermit.”
+
+“Oh, I have you! but faith, his Holiness has proxies eno’. The bishops
+take care to prevent women, Heaven bless them! going out of fashion; and
+Albornoz does not maintain your proverb, touching the Cardinals.”
+
+“True, but Giles is a warrior,--a cardinal in the church, but a soldier
+in the city.”
+
+“Will he carry the fort here, think you, Angelo?”
+
+“Why, fort is female, but--”
+
+“But what?”
+
+“The Signora’s brow is made for power, rather than love, fair as it is.
+She sees in Albornoz the prince, and not the lover. With what a step she
+sweeps the floor! it disdains even the cloth of gold!”
+
+“Hark!” cried Giacomo, hastening to the lattice, “hear you the hoofs
+below? Ah, a gallant company!”
+
+“Returned from hawking,” answered Angelo, regarding wistfully the
+cavalcade, as it swept the narrow street. “Plumes waving, steeds
+curvetting--see how yon handsome cavalier presses close to that dame!”
+
+“His mantle is the colour of mine,” sighed Giacomo.
+
+As the gay procession paced slowly on, till hidden by the winding
+street, and as the sound of laughter and the tramp of horses was yet
+faintly heard, there frowned right before the straining gaze of the
+pages, a dark massive tower of the mighty masonry of the eleventh
+century: the sun gleamed sadly on its vast and dismal surface, which was
+only here and there relieved by loopholes and narrow slits, rather
+than casements. It was a striking contrast to the gaiety around, the
+glittering shops, and the gaudy train that had just filled the space
+below. This contrast the young men seemed involuntarily to feel; they
+drew back, and looked at each other.
+
+“I know your thoughts, Giacomo,” said Angelo, the handsomer and elder of
+the two. “You think yon tower affords but a gloomy lodgment?”
+
+“And I thank my stars that made me not high enough to require so grand a
+cage,” rejoined Giacomo.
+
+“Yet,” observed Angelo, “it holds one, who in birth was not our
+superior.”
+
+“Do tell me something of that strange man,” said Giacomo, regaining his
+seat; “you are Roman and should know.”
+
+“Yes!” answered Angelo, haughtily drawing himself up, “I am Roman! and I
+should be unworthy my birth, if I had not already learned what honour is
+due to the name of Cola di Rienzi.”
+
+“Yet your fellow-Romans merely stoned him, I fancy,” muttered Giacomo.
+“Honour seems to lie more in kicks than money. Can you tell me,”
+ continued the page in a louder key, “can you tell me if it be true, that
+Rienzi appeared at Prague before the Emperor, and prophesied that the
+late Pope and all the Cardinals should be murdered, and a new Italian
+Pope elected, who should endue the Emperor with a golden crown, as
+Sovereign of Sicilia, Calabria, and Apulia, (An absurd fable, adopted
+by certain historians.) and himself with a crown of silver, as King of
+Rome, and all Italy? And--”
+
+“Hush!” interrupted Angelo, impatiently. “Listen to me, and you shall
+know the exact story. On last leaving Rome (thou knowest that, after
+his fall, he was present at the Jubilee in disguise) the Tribune--” here
+Angelo, pausing, looked round, and then with a flushed cheek and raised
+voice resumed, “Yes, the Tribune, that was and shall be--travelled in
+disguise, as a pilgrim, over mountain and forest, night and day, exposed
+to rain and storm, no shelter but the cave,--he who had been, they
+say, the very spoilt one of Luxury. Arrived at length in Bohemia,
+he disclosed himself to a Florentine in Prague, and through his aid
+obtained audience of the Emperor Charles.”
+
+“A prudent man, the Emperor!” said Giacomo, “close-fisted as a miser. He
+makes conquests by bargain, and goes to market for laurels,--as I have
+heard my brother say, who was under him.”
+
+“True; but I have also heard that he likes bookmen and scholars--is
+wise and temperate, and much is yet hoped from him in Italy! Before the
+Emperor, I say, came Rienzi. ‘Know, great Prince,’ said he, ‘that I am
+that Rienzi to whom God gave to govern Rome, in peace, with justice, and
+to freedom. I curbed the nobles, I purged corruption, I amended law. The
+powerful persecuted me--pride and envy have chased me from my dominions.
+Great as you are, fallen as I am, I too have wielded the sceptre and
+might have worn a crown. Know, too, that I am illegitimately of
+your lineage; my father the son of Henry VII.; (Uncle to the Emperor
+Charles.) the blood of the Teuton rolls in my veins; mean as were my
+earlier fortunes and humble my earlier name! From you, O King, I seek
+protection, and I demand justice.” (See, for this speech, “the Anonymous
+Biographer,” lib. ii. cap. 12.)
+
+“A bold speech, and one from equal to equal,” said Giacomo; “surely you
+swell us out the words.”
+
+“Not a whit; they were written down by the Emperor’s scribe, and every
+Roman who has once heard knows them by heart: once every Roman was the
+equal to a king, and Rienzi maintained our dignity in asserting his
+own.”
+
+Giacomo, who discreetly avoided quarrels, knew the weak side of
+his friend; and though in his heart he thought the Romans as
+good-for-nothing a set of turbulent dastards as all Italy might furnish,
+he merely picked a straw from his mantle, and said, in rather an
+impatient tone, “Humph! proceed! did the Emperor dismiss him?”
+
+“Not so: Charles was struck with his bearing and his spirit, received
+him graciously, and entertained him hospitably. He remained some time
+at Prague, and astonished all the learned with his knowledge and
+eloquence.” (His Italian contemporary delights in representing this
+remarkable man as another Crichton. “Disputava,” he says of him when at
+Prague, “disputava con Mastri di teologia; molto diceva, parlava cose
+meravigliose...abbair fea ogni persona.”--“He disputed with Masters of
+theology--he spoke much, he discoursed things wonderful--he astonished
+every one.”)
+
+“But if so honoured at Prague, how comes he a prisoner at Avignon?”
+
+“Giacomo,” said Angelo, thoughtfully, “there are some men whom we, of
+another mind and mould, can rarely comprehend, and never fathom. And of
+such men I have observed that a supreme confidence in their own fortunes
+or their own souls, is the most common feature. Thus impressed, and thus
+buoyed, they rush into danger with a seeming madness, and from danger
+soar to greatness, or sink to death. So with Rienzi; dissatisfied with
+empty courtesies and weary of playing the pedant, since once he had
+played the prince;--some say of his own accord, (though others relate
+that he was surrendered to the Pope’s legate by Charles,) he left the
+Emperor’s court, and without arms, without money, betook himself at once
+to Avignon!”
+
+“Madness indeed!”
+
+“Yet, perhaps his only course, under all circumstances,” resumed the
+elder page. “Once before his fall, and once during his absence from
+Rome, he had been excommunicated by the Pope’s legate. He was accused of
+heresy--the ban was still on him. It was necessary that he should clear
+himself. How was the poor exile to do so? No powerful friend stood
+up for the friend of the people. No courtier vindicated one who had
+trampled on the neck of the nobles. His own genius was his only friend;
+on that only could he rely. He sought Avignon, to free himself from the
+accusations against him; and, doubtless, he hoped that there was but one
+step from his acquittal to his restoration. Besides, it is certain that
+the Emperor had been applied to, formally to surrender Rienzi. He had
+the choice before him; for to that sooner or later it must come--to
+go free, or to go in bonds--as a criminal, or as a Roman. He chose the
+latter. Wherever he passed along, the people rose in every town, in
+every hamlet. The name of the great Tribune was honoured throughout all
+Italy. They besought him not to rush into the very den of peril--they
+implored him to save himself for that country which he had sought to
+raise. ‘I go to vindicate myself, and to triumph,’ was the Tribune’s
+answer. Solemn honours were paid him in the cities through which he
+passed; (“Per tutto la via li furo fatti solenni onori,” &c.--“Vita di
+Cola di Rienzi”, lib. ii. cap. 13.) and I am told that never ambassador,
+prince, or baron, entered Avignon with so long a train as that which
+followed into these very walls the steps of Cola di Rienzi.”
+
+“And on his arrival?”
+
+“He demanded an audience, that he might refute the charges against him.
+He flung down the gage to the proud cardinals who had excommunicated
+him. He besought a trial.”
+
+“And what said the Pope?”
+
+“Nothing--by word. Yon tower was his answer!”
+
+“A rough one!”
+
+“But there have been longer roads than that from the prison to the
+palace, and God made not men like Rienzi for the dungeon and the chain.”
+
+As Angelo said this with a loud voice, and with all the enthusiasm with
+which the fame of the fallen Tribune had inspired the youth of Rome, he
+heard a sigh behind him. He turned in some confusion, and at the door
+which admitted to the chamber occupied by the Signora Cesarini, stood a
+female of noble presence. Attired in the richest garments, gold and gems
+were dull to the lustre of her dark eyes, and as she now stood, erect
+and commanding, never seemed brow more made for the regal crown--never
+did human beauty more fully consummate the ideal of a heroine and a
+queen.
+
+“Pardon me, Signora,” said Angelo, hesitatingly; “I spoke loud, I
+disturbed you; but I am Roman, and my theme was--”
+
+“Rienzi!” said the lady, approaching; “a fit one to stir a Roman heart.
+Nay--no excuses: they would sound ill on thy generous lips. Ah, if--”
+ the Signora paused suddenly, and sighed again; then in an altered and
+graver tone she resumed--“If fate restore Rienzi to his proper fortunes,
+he shall know what thou deemest of him.”
+
+“If you, lady, who are of Naples,” said Angelo, with meaning emphasis,
+“speak thus of a fallen exile, what must I have felt who acknowledge a
+sovereign?”
+
+“Rienzi is not of Rome alone--he is of Italy--of the world,” returned
+the Signora. “And you, Angelo, who have had the boldness to speak thus
+of one fallen, have proved with what loyalty you can serve those who
+have the fortune to own you.”
+
+As she spoke, the Signora looked at the page’s downcast and blushing
+face long and wistfully, with the gaze of one accustomed to read the
+soul in the countenance.
+
+“Men are often deceived,” said she sadly, yet with a half smile; “but
+women rarely,--save in love. Would that Rome were filled with such as
+you! Enough! Hark! Is that the sound of hoofs in the court below?”
+
+“Madam,” said Giacomo, bringing his mantle gallantly over his shoulder,
+“I see the servitors of Monsignore the Cardinal d’Albornoz.--It is the
+Cardinal himself.”
+
+“It is well!” said the Signora, with a brightening eye; “I await
+him!” With these words she withdrew by the door through which she had
+surprised the Roman page.
+
+
+
+Chapter 7.II. The Character of a Warrior Priest--an Interview--the
+Intrigue and Counter-intrigue of Courts.
+
+Giles, (or Egidio, (Egidio is the proper Italian equivalent to the
+French name Gilles,--but the Cardinal is generally called, by the
+writers of that day, Gilio d’Albornoz.)) Cardinal d’Albornoz, was one of
+the most remarkable men of that remarkable time, so prodigal of genius.
+Boasting his descent from the royal houses of Aragon and Leon, he
+had early entered the church, and yet almost a youth, attained the
+archbishopric of Toledo. But no peaceful career, however brilliant,
+sufficed to his ambition. He could not content himself with the honours
+of the church, unless they were the honours of a church militant. In
+the war against the Moors, no Spaniard had more highly distinguished
+himself; and Alphonso XI. king of Castile, had insisted on receiving
+from the hand of the martial priest the badge of knighthood. After the
+death of Alphonso, who was strongly attached to him, Albornoz repaired
+to Avignon, and obtained from Clement VI. the cardinal’s hat. With
+Innocent he continued in high favour, and now, constantly in the
+councils of the Pope, rumours of warlike preparation, under the banners
+of Albornoz, for the recovery of the papal dominions from the various
+tyrants that usurped them, were already circulated through the court.
+(It is a characteristic anecdote of this bold Churchman, that Urban V.
+one day demanded an account of the sums spent in his military expedition
+against the Italian tyrants. The Cardinal presented to the Pope a wagon,
+filled with the keys of the cities and fortresses he had taken. “This is
+my account,” said he; “you perceive how I have invested your money.” The
+Pope embraced him, and gave him no further trouble about his accounts.)
+Bold, sagacious, enterprising, and cold-hearted,--with the valour of the
+knight, and the cunning of the priest,--such was the character of Giles,
+Cardinal d’Albornoz.
+
+Leaving his attendant gentlemen in the antechamber, Albornoz was ushered
+into the apartment of the Signora Cesarini. In person, the Cardinal
+was about the middle height; the dark complexion of Spain had faded by
+thought, and the wear of ambitious schemes, into a sallow but hardy hue;
+his brow was deeply furrowed, and though not yet passed the prime of
+life, Albornoz might seem to have entered age, but for the firmness
+of his step, the slender elasticity of his frame, and an eye which had
+acquired calmness and depth from thought, without losing any of the
+brilliancy of youth.
+
+“Beautiful Signora,” said the Cardinal, bending over the hand of the
+Cesarini with a grace which betokened more of the prince than of the
+priest; “the commands of his Holiness have detained me, I fear, beyond
+the hour in which you vouchsafed to appoint my homage, but my heart has
+been with you since we parted.”
+
+“The Cardinal d’Albornoz,” replied the Signora, gently withdrawing her
+hand, and seating herself, “has so many demands on his time, from the
+duties of his rank and renown, that methinks to divert his attention for
+a few moments to less noble thoughts is a kind of treason to his fame.”
+
+“Ah, Lady,” replied the Cardinal, “never was my ambition so nobly
+directed as it is now. And it were a prouder lot to be at thy feet than
+on the throne of St. Peter.”
+
+A momentary blush passed over the cheek of the Signora, yet it seemed
+the blush of indignation as much as of vanity; it was succeeded by an
+extreme paleness. She paused before she replied; and then fixing her
+large and haughty eyes on the enamoured Spaniard, she said, in a low
+voice,
+
+“My Lord Cardinal, I do not affect to misunderstand your words; neither
+do I place them to the account of a general gallantry. I am vain enough
+to believe you imagine you speak truly when you say you love me.”
+
+“Imagine!” echoed the Spaniard.
+
+“Listen to me,” continued the Signora. “She whom the Cardinal Albornoz
+honours with his love has a right to demand of him its proofs. In the
+papal court, whose power like his?--I require you to exercise it for
+me.”
+
+“Speak, dearest Lady; have your estates been seized by the barbarians of
+these lawless times? Hath any dared to injure you? Lands and titles, are
+these thy wish?--my power is thy slave.”
+
+“Cardinal, no! there is one thing dearer to an Italian and a woman than
+wealth or station--it is revenge!”
+
+The Cardinal drew back from the flashing eye that was bent upon him, but
+the spirit of her speech touched a congenial chord.
+
+“There,” said he, after a little hesitation, “there spake high descent.
+Revenge is the luxury of the well-born. Let serfs and churls forgive an
+injury. Proceed, Lady.”
+
+“Hast thou heard the last news from Rome?” asked the Signora.
+
+“Surely,” replied the Cardinal, in some surprise, “we were poor
+statesmen to be ignorant of the condition of the capital of the papal
+dominions; and my heart mourns for that unfortunate city. But wherefore
+wouldst thou question me of Rome?--thou art--”
+
+“Roman! Know, my Lord, that I have a purpose in calling myself of
+Naples. To your discretion I intrust my secret--I am of Rome! Tell me of
+her state.”
+
+“Fairest one,” returned the Cardinal, “I should have known that that
+brow and presence were not of the light Campania. My reason should have
+told me that they bore the stamp of the Empress of the World. The state
+of Rome,” continued Albornoz, in a graver tone, “is briefly told. Thou
+knowest that after the fall of the able but insolent Rienzi, Pepin,
+count of Minorbino, (a creature of Montreal’s) who had assisted in
+expelling him, would have betrayed Rome to Montreal,--but he was neither
+strong enough nor wise enough, and the Barons chased him as he had
+chased the Tribune. Some time afterwards a new demagogue, John Cerroni,
+was installed in the Capitol. He once more expelled the nobles; new
+revolutions ensued--the Barons were recalled. The weak successor of
+Rienzi summoned the people to arms--in vain: in terror and despair he
+abdicated his power, and left the city a prey to the interminable feuds
+of the Orsini, the Colonna, and the Savelli.”
+
+“Thus much I know, my Lord; but when his Holiness succeeded to the chair
+of Clement VI.--”
+
+“Then,” said Albornoz, and a slight frown darkened his sallow brow,
+“then came the blacker part of the history. Two senators were elected in
+concert by the Pope.”
+
+“Their names?”
+
+“Bertoldo Orsini, and one of the Colonna. A few weeks afterwards, the
+high price of provisions stung the rascal stomachs of the mob--they
+rose, they clamoured, they armed, they besieged the Capitol--”
+
+“Well, well,” cried the Signora, clasping her hands, and betokening in
+every feature her interest in the narration.
+
+“Colonna only escaped death by a vile disguise; Bertoldo Orsini was
+stoned.”
+
+“Stoned!--there fell one!”
+
+“Yes, lady, one of a great house; the least drop of whose blood were
+worth an ocean of plebeian puddle. At present, all is disorder, misrule,
+anarchy, at Rome. The contests of the nobles shake the city to the
+centre; and prince and people, wearied of so many experiments to
+establish a government, have now no governor but the fear of the sword.
+Such, fair madam, is the state of Rome. Sigh not, it occupies now our
+care. It shall be remedied; and I, madam, may be the happy instrument of
+restoring peace to your native city.”
+
+“There is but one way of restoring peace to Rome,” answered the Signora,
+abruptly, “and that is--The restoration of Rienzi!”
+
+The Cardinal started. “Madam,” said he, “do I hear aright?--are you not
+nobly born?--can you desire the rise of a plebeian? Did you not speak of
+revenge, and now you ask for mercy?”
+
+“Lord Cardinal,” said the beautiful Signora, earnestly, “I do not ask
+for mercy: such a word is not for the lips of one who demands justice.
+Nobly born I am--ay, and from a stock to whose long descent from the
+patricians of ancient Rome the high line of Aragon itself would be of
+yesterday. Nay, I would not offend you, Monsignore; your greatness is
+not borrowed from pedigrees and tombstones--your greatness is your own
+achieving: would you speak honestly, my Lord, you would own that you are
+proud only of your own laurels, and that, in your heart, you laugh at
+the stately fools who trick themselves out in the mouldering finery of
+the dead!”
+
+“Muse! prophetess! you speak aright,” said the high-spirited Cardinal,
+with unwonted energy; “and your voice is like that of the Fame I dreamed
+of in my youth. Speak on, speak ever!”
+
+“Such,” continued the Signora, “such as your pride, is the just pride of
+Rienzi. Proud that he is the workman of his own great renown. In such
+as the Tribune of Rome we acknowledge the founders of noble lineage.
+Ancestry makes not them--they make ancestry. Enough of this. I am of
+noble race, it is true; but my house, and those of many, have been
+crushed and broken beneath the yoke of the Orsini and Colonna--it is
+against them I desire revenge. But I am better than an Italian lady--I
+am a Roman woman--I weep tears of blood for the disorders of my unhappy
+country. I mourn that even you, my Lord,--yes, that a barbarian, however
+eminent and however great, should mourn for Rome. I desire to restore
+her fortunes.”
+
+“But Rienzi would only restore his own.”
+
+“Not so, my Lord Cardinal; not so. Ambitious and proud he may be--great
+souls are so--but he has never had one wish divorced from the welfare of
+Rome. But put aside all thought of his interests--it is not of these I
+speak. You desire to re-establish the papal power in Rome. Your senators
+have failed to do it. Demagogues fail--Rienzi alone can succeed; he
+alone can command the turbulent passions of the Barons--he alone can
+sway the capricious and fickle mob. Release, restore Rienzi, and through
+Rienzi the Pope regains Rome!”
+
+The Cardinal did not answer for some moments. Buried as in a revery,
+he sate motionless, shading his face with his hand. Perhaps he secretly
+owned there was a wiser policy in the suggestions of the Signora than he
+cared openly to confess. Lifting his head, at length, from his bosom,
+he fixed his eyes upon the Signora’s watchful countenance, and, with a
+forced smile, said,
+
+“Pardon me, madam; but while we play the politicians, forget not that
+I am thy adorer. Sagacious may be thy counsels, yet wherefore are they
+urged? Why this anxious interest for Rienzi? If by releasing him the
+Church may gain an ally, am I sure that Giles d’Albornoz will not raise
+a rival?”
+
+“My Lord,” said the Signora, half rising, “you are my suitor; but your
+rank does not tempt me--your gold cannot buy. If you love me, I have a
+right to command your services to whatsoever task I would require--it is
+the law of chivalry. If ever I yield to the addresses of mortal lover,
+it will be to the man who restores to my native land her hero and her
+saviour.”
+
+“Fair patriot,” said the Cardinal, “your words encourage my hope, yet
+they half damp my ambition; for fain would I desire that love and not
+service should alone give me the treasure that I ask. But hear me, sweet
+lady; you over-rate my power: I cannot deliver Rienzi--he is accused
+of rebellion, he is excommunicated for heresy. His acquittal rests with
+himself.”
+
+“You can procure his trial?”
+
+“Perhaps, Lady.”
+
+“That is his acquittal. And a private audience of his Holiness?”
+
+“Doubtless.”
+
+“That is his restoration! Behold all I ask!”
+
+“And then, sweet Roman, it will be mine to ask,” said the Cardinal,
+passionately, dropping on his knee, and taking the Signora’s hand. For
+one moment, that proud lady felt that she was woman--she blushed, she
+trembled; but it was not (could the Cardinal have read that heart) with
+passion or with weakness; it was with terror and with shame. Passively
+she surrendered her hand to the Cardinal, who covered it with kisses.
+
+“Thus inspired,” said Albornoz, rising, “I will not doubt of success.
+Tomorrow I wait on thee again.”
+
+He pressed her hand to his heart--the lady felt it not. He sighed his
+farewell--she did not hear it. Lingeringly he gazed; and slowly he
+departed. But it was some moments before, recalled to herself, the
+Signora felt that she was alone.
+
+“Alone!” she cried, half aloud, and with wild emphasis--“alone! Oh, what
+have I undergone--what have I said! Unfaithful, even in thought, to him!
+Oh, never! never! I, that have felt the kiss of his hallowing lips--that
+have slept on his kingly heart--I!--holy Mother, befriend and strengthen
+me!” she continued, as, weeping bitterly, she sunk upon her knees; and
+for some moments she was lost in prayer. Then, rising composed, but
+deadly pale, and with the tears rolling heavily down her cheeks, the
+Signora passed slowly to the casement; she threw it open, and bent
+forward; the air of the declining day came softly on her temples; it
+cooled, it mitigated, the fever that preyed within. Dark and huge
+before her frowned, in its gloomy shadow, the tower in which Rienzi was
+confined; she gazed at it long and wistfully, and then, turning away,
+drew from the folds of her robe a small and sharp dagger. “Let me save
+him for glory!” she murmured; “and this shall save me from dishonour!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 7.III. Holy Men.--Sagacious Deliberations.--Just Resolves.--And
+Sordid Motives to All.
+
+Enamoured of the beauty, and almost equally so of the lofty spirit, of
+the Signora Cesarini, as was the warlike Cardinal of Spain, love with
+him was not so master a passion as that ambition of complete success
+in all the active designs of life, which had hitherto animated his
+character and signalized his career. Musing, as he left the Signora, on
+her wish for the restoration of the Roman Tribune, his experienced and
+profound intellect ran swiftly through whatever advantages to his own
+political designs might result from that restoration. We have seen that
+it was the intention of the new Pontiff to attempt the recovery of the
+patrimonial territories, now torn from him by the gripe of able and
+disaffected tyrants. With this view, a military force was already in
+preparation, and the Cardinal was already secretly nominated the chief.
+But the force was very inadequate to the enterprise; and Albornoz
+depended much upon the moral strength of the cause in bringing recruits
+to his standard in his progress through the Italian states. The
+wonderful rise of Rienzi had excited an extraordinary enthusiasm in his
+favour through all the free populations of Italy. And this had been yet
+more kindled and inflamed by the influential eloquence of Petrarch, who,
+at that time, possessed of a power greater than ever, before or since,
+(not even excepting the Sage of Ferney,) wielded by a single literary
+man, had put forth his boldest genius in behalf of the Roman Tribune.
+Such a companion as Rienzi in the camp of the Cardinal might be a magnet
+of attraction to the youth and enterprise of Italy. On nearing Rome, he
+might himself judge how far it would be advisable to reinstate Rienzi
+as a delegate of the papal power. And, in the meanwhile, the Roman’s
+influence might be serviceable, whether to awe the rebellious nobles
+or conciliate the stubborn people. On the other hand, the Cardinal
+was shrewd enough to perceive that no possible good could arise from
+Rienzi’s present confinement. With every month it excited deeper and
+more universal sympathy. To his lonely dungeon turned half the hearts
+of republican Italy. Literature had leagued its new and sudden, and
+therefore mighty and even disproportioned, power with his cause; and the
+Pope, without daring to be his judge, incurred the odium of being his
+gaoler. “A popular prisoner,” said the sagacious Cardinal to himself,
+“is the most dangerous of guests. Restore him as your servant, or
+destroy him as your foe! In this case I see no alternative but acquittal
+or the knife!” In these reflections that able plotter, deep in the
+Machiavelism of the age, divorced the lover from the statesman.
+
+Recurring now to the former character, he felt some disagreeable and
+uneasy forebodings at the earnest interest of his mistress. Fain would
+he have attributed, either to some fantasy of patriotism or some purpose
+of revenge, the anxiety of the Cesarini; and there was much in her stern
+and haughty character which favoured that belief. But he was forced
+to acknowledge to himself some jealous apprehension of a sinister and
+latent motive, which touched his vanity and alarmed his love. “Howbeit,”
+ he thought, as he turned from his unwilling fear, “I can play with her
+at her own weapons; I can obtain the release of Rienzi, and claim my
+reward. If denied, the hand that opened the dungeon can again rivet the
+chain. In her anxiety is my power!”
+
+These thoughts the Cardinal was still revolving in his palace, when he
+was suddenly summoned to attend the Pontiff.
+
+The pontifical palace no longer exhibited the gorgeous yet graceful
+luxury of Clement VI., and the sarcastic Cardinal smiled to himself at
+the quiet gloom of the ante-chambers. “He thinks to set an example--this
+poor native of Limoges!” thought Albornoz; “and has but the
+mortification of finding himself eclipsed by the poorest bishop. He
+humbles himself, and fancies that the humility will be contagious.”
+
+His Holiness was seated before a small and rude table bestrewed with
+papers, his face buried in his hands; the room was simply furnished, and
+in a small niche beside the casement was an ivory crucifix; below, the
+death’s head and cross-bones, which most monks then introduced with a
+purpose similar to that of the ancients by the like ornaments,--mementos
+of the shortness of life, and therefore admonitions to make the best
+of it! On the ground lay a map of the Patrimonial Territory, with the
+fortresses in especial, distinctly and prominently marked. The Pope
+gently lifted up his head as the Cardinal was announced, and discovered
+a plain but sensible and somewhat interesting countenance. “My son!”
+ said he, with a kindly courtesy to the lowly salutation of the proud
+Spaniard, “scarcely wouldst thou imagine, after our long conference
+this morning, that new cares would so soon demand the assistance of thy
+counsels. Verily, the wreath of thorns stings sharp under the triple
+crown; and I sometimes long for the quiet abode of my old professor’s
+chair in Toulouse: my station is of pain and toil.”
+
+“God tempers the wind to the shorn lamb,” observed the Cardinal, with
+pious and compassionate gravity.
+
+Innocent could scarcely refrain a smile as he replied, “The lamb that
+carries the cross must have the strength of the lion. Since we parted,
+my son, I have had painful intelligence; our couriers have arrived from
+the Campagna--the heathen rage furiously--the force of John di Vico has
+augmented fearfully, and the most redoubted adventurer of Europe has
+enlisted under his banner.”
+
+“Does his Holiness,” cried the Cardinal, anxiously, “speak of Fra
+Moreale, the Knight of St. John?”
+
+“Of no less a warrior,” returned the Pontiff. “I dread the vast ambition
+of that wild adventurer.”
+
+“Your Holiness hath cause,” said the Cardinal, drily.
+
+“Some letters of his have fallen into the hands of the servants of the
+Church; they are here: read them, my son.”
+
+Albornoz received and deliberately scanned the letters; this done, he
+replaced them on the table, and remained for a few moments silent and
+absorbed.
+
+“What think you, my son?” said the Pope, at length, with an impatient
+and even peevish tone.
+
+“I think that, with Montreal’s hot genius and John di Vico’s frigid
+villany, your Holiness may live to envy, if not the quiet, at least the
+revenue, of the Professor’s chair.”
+
+“How, Cardinal!” said the Pope, hastily, and with an angry flush on his
+pale brow. The Cardinal quietly proceeded.
+
+“By these letters it seems that Montreal has written to all the
+commanders of free lances throughout Italy, offering the highest pay
+of a soldier to every man who will join his standard, combined with the
+richest plunder of a brigand. He meditates great schemes then!--I know
+the man!”
+
+“Well,--and our course?”
+
+“Is plain,” said the Cardinal, loftily, and with an eye that flashed
+with a soldier’s fire. “Not a moment is to be lost! Thy son should at
+once take the field. Up with the Banner of the Church!”
+
+“But are we strong enough? our numbers are few. Zeal slackens! the piety
+of the Baldwins is no more!”
+
+“Your Holiness knows well,” said the Cardinal, “that for the multitude
+of men there are two watchwords of war--Liberty and Religion. If
+Religion begins to fail, we must employ the profaner word. ‘Up with the
+Banner of the Church--and down with the tyrants!’ We will proclaim equal
+laws and free government; (In correcting the pages of this work, in the
+year 1847...strange coincidences between the present policy of the Roman
+Church and that by which in the 14th century it recovered both spiritual
+and temporal power cannot fail to suggest themselves.) and, God willing,
+our camp shall prosper better with those promises than the tents of
+Montreal with the more vulgar shout of ‘Pay and Rapine.’”
+
+“Giles d’Albornoz,” said the Pope, emphatically; and, warmed by the
+spirit of the Cardinal, he dropped the wonted etiquette of phrase, “I
+trust implicitly to you. Now the right hand of the Church--hereafter,
+perhaps, its head. Too well I feel that the lot has fallen on a lowly
+place. My successor must requite my deficiencies.”
+
+No changing hue, no brightening glance, betrayed to the searching eye of
+the Pope whatever emotion these words had called up in the breast of the
+ambitious Cardinal. He bowed his proud head humbly as he answered, “Pray
+Heaven that Innocent VI. may long live to guide the Church to glory.
+For Giles d’Albornoz, less priest than soldier, the din of the camp,
+the breath of the war-steed, suggest the only aspirations which he
+ever dares indulge. But has your Holiness imparted to your servant all
+that--”
+
+“Nay,” interrupted Innocent, “I have yet intelligence equally ominous.
+This John di Vico,--pest go with him!--who still styles himself (the
+excommunicated ruffian!) Prefect of Rome, has so filled that unhappy
+city with his emissaries, that we have well-nigh lost the seat of
+the Apostle. Rome, long in anarchy, seems now in open rebellion.
+The nobles--sons of Belial!--it is true, are once more humbled; but
+how?--One Baroncelli, a new demagogue, the fiercest--the most bloody
+that the fiend ever helped--has arisen--is invested by the mob with
+power, and uses it to butcher the people and insult the Pontiff. Wearied
+of the crimes of this man, (which are not even decorated by ability,)
+the shout of the people day and night along the streets is for ‘Rienzi
+the Tribune.’”
+
+“Ha!” said the Cardinal, “Rienzi’s faults then are forgotten in Rome,
+and there is felt for him the same enthusiasm in that city as in the
+rest of Italy?”
+
+“Alas! It is so.”
+
+“It is well, I have thought of this: Rienzi can accompany my progress--”
+
+“My son! the rebel, the heretic--”
+
+“By your Holiness’s absolution will become quiet subject and orthodox
+Catholic,” said Albornoz. “Men are good or bad as they suit our purpose.
+What matters a virtue that is useless, or a crime that is useful, to us?
+The army of the Church proceeds against tyrants--it proclaims everywhere
+to the Papal towns the restoration of their popular constitutions. Sees
+not your Holiness that the acquittal of Rienzi, the popular darling,
+will be hailed an earnest of your sincerity?--sees not your Holiness
+that his name will fight for us?--sees not your Holiness that the
+great demagogue Rienzi must be used to extinguish the little demagogue
+Baroncelli? We must regain the Romans, whether of the city or whether in
+the seven towns of John di Vico. When they hear Rienzi is in our camp,
+trust me, we shall have a multitude of deserters from the tyrants--trust
+me, we shall hear no more of Baroncelli.”
+
+“Ever sagacious,” said the Pope, musingly; “it is true, we can use this
+man: but with caution. His genius is formidable--”
+
+“And therefore must be conciliated; if we acquit, we must make him ours.
+My experience has taught me this, when you cannot slay a demagogue by
+law, crush him with honours. He must be no longer Tribune of the People.
+Give him the Patrician title of Senator, and he is then the Lieutenant
+of the Pope!”
+
+“I will see to this, my son--your suggestions please, but alarm me: he
+shall at least be examined;--but if found a heretic--”
+
+“Should, I humbly advise, be declared a saint.”
+
+The Pope bent his brow for a moment, but the effort was too much for
+him, and after a moment’s struggle, he fairly laughed aloud.
+
+“Go to, my son,” said he, affectionately patting the Cardinal’s sallow
+cheek. “Go to.--If the world heard thee, what would it say?”
+
+“That Giles d’Albornoz had just enough religion to remember that the
+State is a Church, but not too much to forget that the Church is a
+State.”
+
+With these words the conference ended. That very evening the Pope
+decreed that Rienzi should be permitted the trial he had demanded.
+
+
+
+Chapter 7.IV. The Lady and the Page.
+
+It wanted three hours of midnight, when Albornoz, resuming his character
+of gallant, despatched to the Signora Cesarini the following billet.
+
+“Your commands are obeyed. Rienzi will receive an examination on his
+faith. It is well that he should be prepared. It may suit your purpose,
+as to which I am so faintly enlightened, to appear to the prisoner what
+you are--the obtainer of this grace. See how implicitly one noble heart
+can trust another! I send by the bearer an order that will admit one of
+your servitors to the prisoner’s cell. Be it, if you will, your task to
+announce to him the new crisis of his fate. Ah! madam, may fortune be
+as favourable to me, and grant me the same intercessor--from thy lips my
+sentence is to come.”
+
+As Albornoz finished this epistle, he summoned his confidential
+attendant, a Spanish gentleman, who saw nothing in his noble birth that
+should prevent his fulfilling the various hests of the Cardinal.
+
+“Alvarez,” said he, “these to the Signora Cesarini by another hand; thou
+art unknown to her household. Repair to the state tower; this to the
+Governor admits thee. Mark who is admitted to the prisoner Cola di
+Rienzi: Know his name, examine whence he comes. Be keen, Alvarez. Learn
+by what motive the Cesarini interests herself in the prisoner’s
+fate. All too of herself, birth, fortunes, lineage, would be welcome
+intelligence. Thou comprehendest me? It is well. One caution--thou
+hast no mission from, no connexion with, me. Thou art an officer of the
+prison, or of the Pope,--what thou wilt. Give me the rosary; light the
+lamp before the crucifix; place yon hair-shirt beneath those arms.
+I would have it appear as if meant to be hidden! Tell Gomez that the
+Dominican preacher is to be admitted.”
+
+“Those friars have zeal,” continued the Cardinal to himself, as, after
+executing his orders, Alvarez withdrew. “They would burn a man--but only
+on the Bible? They are worth conciliating, if the triple crown be really
+worth the winning; were it mine, I would add the eagle’s plume to it.”
+
+And plunged into the aspiring future, this bold man forgot even the
+object of his passion. In real life, after a certain age, ambitious men
+love indeed; but it is only as an interlude. And indeed with most men,
+life has more absorbing though not more frequent concerns than those of
+love. Love is the business of the idle, but the idleness of the busy.
+
+The Cesarini was alone when the Cardinal’s messenger arrived, and he
+was scarcely dismissed with a few lines, expressive of a gratitude which
+seemed to bear down all those guards with which the coldness of the
+Signora usually fenced her pride, before the page Angelo was summoned to
+her presence.
+
+The room was dark with the shades of the gathering night when the youth
+entered, and he discerned but dimly the outline of the Signora’s stately
+form; but by the tone of her voice, he perceived that she was deeply
+agitated.
+
+“Angelo,” said she, as he approached, “Angelo--” and her voice failed
+her. She paused as for breath and again proceeded. “You alone have
+served us faithfully; you alone shared our escape, our wanderings,
+our exile--you alone know my secret--you of my train alone are
+Roman!--Roman! it was once a great name. Angelo, the name has fallen;
+but it is only because the nature of the Roman Race fell first. Haughty
+they are, but fickle; fierce, but dastard; vehement in promise, but
+rotten in their faith. You are a Roman, and though I have proved your
+truth, your very birth makes me afraid of falsehood.”
+
+“Madam,” said the page; “I was but a child when you admitted me of your
+service, and I am yet only on the verge of manhood. But boy though I
+yet be, I would brave the stoutest lance of knight, or freebooter, in
+defence of the faith of Angelo Villani, to his liege Lady and his native
+land.”
+
+“Alas! alas!” said the Signora, bitterly, “such have been the words
+of thousands of thy race. What have been their deeds? But I will trust
+thee, as I have trusted ever. I know that thou art covetous of honour,
+that thou hast youth’s comely and bright ambition.”
+
+“I am an orphan and a bastard,” said Angelo, bluntly! “And circumstance
+stings me sharply on to action; I would win my own name.”
+
+“Thou shalt,” said the Signora. “We shall live yet to reward thee.
+And now be quick. Bring hither one of thy page’s suits,--mantle and
+head-gear. Quick, I say, and whisper not to a soul what I have asked of
+thee.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 7.V. The Inmate of the Tower.
+
+The night slowly advanced, and in the highest chamber of that dark and
+rugged tower which fronted the windows of the Cesarini’s palace sate a
+solitary prisoner. A single lamp burned before him on a table of stone,
+and threw its rays over an open Bible; and those stern but fantastic
+legends of the prowess of ancient Rome, which the genius of Livy has
+dignified into history. (“Avea libri assai, suo Tito Livio, sue storie
+di Roma, la Bibbia et altri libri assai, non finava di studiare.”--“Vita
+di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. ii. cap. 13. See translation to motto to Book
+VII. page 202.) A chain hung pendent from the vault of the tower, and
+confined the captive; but so as to leave his limbs at sufficient liberty
+to measure at will the greater part of the cell. Green and damp were the
+mighty stones of the walls, and through a narrow aperture, high out of
+reach, came the moonlight, and slept in long shadow over the rude floor.
+A bed at one corner completed the furniture of the room. Such for months
+had been the abode of the conqueror of the haughtiest Barons, and the
+luxurious dictator of the stateliest city of the world!
+
+Care, and travel, and time, and adversity, had wrought their change in
+the person of Rienzi. The proportions of his frame had enlarged from the
+compact strength of earlier manhood, the clear paleness of his cheek was
+bespread with a hectic and deceitful glow. Even in his present
+studies, intent as they seemed, and genial though the lecture to a mind
+enthusiastic even to fanaticism, his eyes could not rivet themselves as
+of yore steadily to the page. The charm was gone from the letters.
+Every now and then he moved restlessly, started, re-settled himself, and
+muttered broken exclamations like a man in an anxious dream. Anon, his
+gaze impatiently turned upward, about, around, and there was a strange
+and wandering fire in those large deep eyes, which might have thrilled
+the beholder with a vague and unaccountable awe.
+
+Angelo had in the main correctly narrated the more recent adventures of
+Rienzi after his fall. He had first with Nina and Angelo betaken himself
+to Naples, and found a fallacious and brief favour with Louis, king
+of Hungary; that harsh but honourable monarch had refused to yield his
+illustrious guest to the demands of Clement, but had plainly declared
+his inability to shelter him in safety. Maintaining secret intercourse
+with his partisans at Rome, the fugitive then sought a refuge with the
+Eremites, sequestered in the lone recesses of the Monte Maiella, where
+in solitude and thought he had passed a whole year, save the time
+consumed in his visit to and return from Florence. Taking advantage of
+the Jubilee in Rome, he had then, disguised as a pilgrim, traversed the
+vales and mountains still rich in the melancholy ruins of ancient Rome,
+and entering the city, his restless and ambitious spirit indulged in new
+but vain conspiracies! (Rainald, Ann. 1350, N. 4, E. 5.) Excommunicated
+a second time by the Cardinal di Ceccano, and again a fugitive, he
+shook the dust from his feet as he left the city, and raising his
+hands towards those walls, in which are yet traced the witness of
+the Tarquins, cried aloud--“Honoured as thy prince--persecuted as thy
+victim--Rome, Rome, thou shalt yet receive me as thy conqueror!”
+
+Still disguised as a pilgrim, he passed unmolested through Italy into
+the Court of the Emperor Charles of Bohemia, where the page, who had
+probably witnessed, had rightly narrated, his reception. It is doubtful,
+however, whether the conduct of the Emperor had been as chivalrous as
+appears by Angelo’s relation, or whether he had not delivered Rienzi to
+the Pontiff’s emissaries. At all events it is certain, that from Prague
+to Avignon, the path of the fallen Tribune had been as one triumph. His
+strange adventures--his unbroken spirit--the new power that
+Intellect daily and wonderfully excited over the minds of the rising
+generation--the eloquence of Petrarch, and the common sympathy of the
+vulgar for fallen greatness,--all conspired to make Rienzi the hero of
+the age. Not a town through which he passed which would not have risked
+a siege for his protection--not a house that would not have sheltered
+him--not a hand that would not have struck in his defence. Refusing
+all offers of aid, disdaining all occasion of escape, inspired by his
+indomitable hope, and his unalloyed belief in the brightness of his own
+destinies, the Tribune sought Avignon--and found a dungeon!
+
+These, his external adventures, are briefly and easily told; but who
+shall tell what passed within?--who narrate the fearful history of
+the heart?--who paint the rapid changes of emotion and of thought--the
+indignant grief--the stern dejection--the haughty disappointment that
+saddened while it never destroyed the resolve of that great soul? Who
+can say what must have been endured, what meditated, in the hermitage
+of Maiella;--on the lonely hills of the perished empire it had been his
+dream to restore;--in the Courts of Barbarian Kings;--and above all,
+on returning obscure and disguised, amidst the crowds of the Christian
+world, to the seat of his former power? What elements of memory, and
+in what a wild and fiery brain! What reflections to be conned in the
+dungeons of Avignon, by a man who had pushed into all the fervour
+of fanaticism--four passions, a single one of which has, in excess,
+sufficed to wreck the strongest reason--passions, which in themselves
+it is most difficult to combine,--the dreamer--the aspirant--the very
+nympholept of Freedom, yet of Power--of Knowledge, yet of Religion!
+
+“Ay,” muttered the prisoner, “ay, these texts are
+comforting--comforting. The righteous are not alway oppressed.” With
+a long sigh he deliberately put aside the Bible, kissed it with great
+reverence, remained silent, and musing for some minutes; and then as a
+slight noise was heard at one corner of the cell, said softly, “Ah, my
+friends, my comrades, the rats! it is their hour--I am glad I put aside
+the bread for them!” His eye brightened as it now detected those strange
+and unsocial animals venturing forth through a hole in the wall, and,
+darkening the moonshine on the floor, steal fearlessly towards him.
+He flung some fragments of bread to them, and for some moments watched
+their gambols with a smile. “Manchino, the white-faced rascal! he beats
+all the rest--ha, ha! he is a superior wretch--he commands the tribe,
+and will venture the first into the trap. How will he bite against the
+steel, the fine fellow! while all the ignobler herd will gaze at him
+afar off, and quake and fear, and never help. Yet if united, they might
+gnaw the trap and release their leader! Ah, ye are base vermin, ye eat
+my bread, yet if death came upon me, ye would riot on my carcass. Away!”
+ and clapping his hands, the chain round him clanked harshly, and the
+noisome co-mates of his dungeon vanished in an instant.
+
+That singular and eccentric humour which marked Rienzi, and which had
+seemed a buffoonery to the stolid sullenness of the Roman nobles, still
+retained its old expression in his countenance, and he laughed loud as
+he saw the vermin hurry back to their hiding-place.
+
+“A little noise and the clank of a chain--fie, how ye imitate mankind!”
+ Again he sank into silence, and then heavily and listlessly
+drawing towards him the animated tales of Livy, said, “An hour to
+midnight!--waking dreams are better than sleep. Well, history tells us
+how men have risen--ay, and nations too--after sadder falls than that of
+Rienzi or of Rome!”
+
+In a few minutes, he was apparently absorbed in the lecture; so intent
+indeed, was he in the task, that he did not hear the steps which wound
+the spiral stairs that conducted to his cell, and it was not till the
+wards harshly grated beneath the huge key, and the door creaked on
+its hinges, that Rienzi, in amaze at intrusion at so unwonted an hour,
+lifted his eyes. The door had reclosed on the dungeon, and by the lonely
+and pale lamp he beheld a figure leaning, as for support, against the
+wall. The figure was wrapped from head to foot in the long cloak of the
+day, which, aided by a broad hat, shaded by plumes, concealed even the
+features of the visitor.
+
+Rienzi gazed long and wistfully.
+
+“Speak,” he said at length, putting his hand to his brow. “Methinks
+either long solitude has bewildered me, or, sweet sir, your apparition
+dazzles. I know you not--am I sure?--” and Rienzi’s hair bristled while
+he slowly rose--“Am I sure that it is living man who stands before
+me? Angels have entered the prison-house before now. Alas! an angel’s
+comfort never was more needed.”
+
+The stranger answered not, but the captive saw that his heart heaved
+even beneath his cloak; loud sobs choked his voice; at length, as by a
+violent effort, he sprung forward, and sunk at the Tribune’s feet. The
+disguising hat, the long mantle fell to the ground--it was the face of a
+woman that looked upward through passionate and glazing tears--the arms
+of a woman that clasped the prisoner’s knees! Rienzi gazed mute and
+motionless as stone. “Powers and Saints of Heaven!” he murmured at last,
+“do ye tempt me further!--is it?--no, no--yet speak!”
+
+“Beloved--adored!--do you not know me?”
+
+“It is--it is!” shrieked Rienzi wildly, “it is my Nina--my wife--my--”
+ His voice forsook him. Clasped in each other’s arms, the unfortunates
+for some moments seemed to have lost even the sense of delight at
+their reunion. It was as an unconscious and deep trance, through which
+something like a dream only faintly and indistinctively stirs.
+
+At length recovered--at length restored, the first broken exclamations,
+the first wild caresses of joy over--Nina lifted her head from her
+husband’s bosom, and gazed sadly on his countenance--“Oh, what thou hast
+known since we parted!--what, since that hour when, borne on by thy bold
+heart and wild destiny, thou didst leave me in the Imperial Court,
+to seek again the diadem and find the chain! Ah! why did I heed thy
+commands?--why suffer thee to depart alone? How often in thy progress
+hitherward, in doubt, in danger, might this bosom have been thy
+resting-place, and this voice have whispered comfort to thy soul? Thou
+art well, my Lord--my Cola! Thy pulse beats quicker than of old--thy
+brow is furrowed. Ah! tell me thou art well!”
+
+“Well,” said Rienzi, mechanically. “Methinks so!--the mind diseased
+blunts all sense of bodily decay. Well--yes! And thou--thou, at least,
+art not changed, save to maturer beauty. The glory of the laurel-wreath
+has not faded from thy brow. Thou shalt yet--” then breaking off
+abruptly--“Rome--tell me of Rome! And thou--how camest thou hither? Ah!
+perhaps my doom is sealed, and in their mercy they have vouchsafed that
+I should see thee once more before the deathsman blinds me. I remember,
+it is the grace vouchsafed to malefactors. When I was a lord of life and
+death, I too permitted the meanest criminal to say farewell to those he
+loved.”
+
+“No--not so, Cola!” exclaimed Nina, putting her hand before his mouth.
+“I bring thee more auspicious tidings. Tomorrow thou art to be heard.
+The favour of the Court is propitiated. Thou wilt be acquitted.”
+
+“Ha! speak again.”
+
+“Thou wilt be heard, my Cola--thou must be acquitted!”
+
+“And Rome be free!--Great God, I thank Thee!”
+
+The Tribune sank on his knees, and never had his heart, in his youngest
+and purest hour, poured forth thanksgiving more fervent, yet less
+selfish. When he rose again, the whole man seemed changed. His eye had
+resumed its earlier expressions of deep and serene command. Majesty sate
+upon his brow. The sorrows of the exile were forgotten. In his sanguine
+and rapid thoughts, he stood once more the guardian of his country,--and
+its sovereign!
+
+Nina gazed upon him with that intense and devoted worship, which steeped
+her vainer and her harder qualities in all the fondness of the softest
+woman. “Such,” thought she, “was his look eight years ago, when he left
+my maiden chamber, full of the mighty schemes which liberated Rome--such
+his look, when at the dawning sun he towered amidst the crouching
+Barons, and the kneeling population of the city he had made his throne!”
+
+“Yes, Nina!” said Rienzi, as he turned and caught her eye. “My soul
+tells me that my hour is at hand. If they try me openly, they dare not
+convict--if they acquit me, they dare not but restore. Tomorrow, saidst
+thou, tomorrow?”
+
+“Tomorrow, Rienzi; be prepared!”
+
+“I am--for triumph! But tell me what happy chance brought thee to
+Avignon?”
+
+“Chance, Cola!” said Nina, with reproachful tenderness. “Could I know
+that thou wert in the dungeons of the Pontiff, and linger in idle
+security at Prague? Even at the Emperor’s Court thou hadst thy
+partisans and favourers. Gold was easily procured. I repaired to
+Florence--disguised my name--and came hither to plot, to scheme, to win
+thy liberty, or to die with thee. Ah! did not thy heart tell thee that
+morning and night the eyes of thy faithful Nina gazed upon this gloomy
+tower; and that one friend, humble though she be, never could forsake
+thee!”
+
+“Sweet Nina! Yet--yet--at Avignon power yields not to beauty without
+reward. Remember, there is a worse death than the pause of life.”
+
+Nina turned pale. “Fear not,” she said, with a low but determined voice;
+“fear not, that men’s lips should say Rienzi’s wife delivered him. None
+in this corrupted Court know that I am thy wife.”
+
+“Woman,” said the Tribune, sternly; “thy lips elude the answer I would
+seek. In our degenerate time and land, thy sex and ours forget too
+basely what foulness writes a leprosy in the smallest stain upon a
+matron’s honour. That thy heart would never wrong me, I believe; but if
+thy weakness, thy fear of my death should wrong me, thou art a bitterer
+foe to Rienzi than the swords of the Colonna. Nina, speak!”
+
+“Oh, that my soul could speak,” answered Nina. “Thy words are music to
+me, and not a thought of mine but echoes them. Could I touch this hand,
+could I meet that eye, and not know that death were dearer to thee than
+shame? Rienzi, when last we parted, in sadness, yet in hope, what were
+thy words to me?”
+
+“I remember them well,” returned the Tribune: “‘I leave thee,’ I said,
+‘to keep alive at the Emperor’s Court, by thy genius, the Great Cause.
+Thou hast youth and beauty--and courts have lawless and ruffian suitors.
+I give thee no caution; it were beneath thee and me. But I leave thee
+the power of death.’ And with that, Nina--”
+
+“Thy hands tremblingly placed in mine this dagger. I live--need I say
+more?”
+
+“My noble and beloved Nina, it is enough. Keep the dagger yet.”
+
+“Yes; till we meet in the Capitol of Rome!”
+
+A slight tap was heard at the door; Nina regained, in an instant, her
+disguise.
+
+“It is on the stroke of midnight,” said the gaoler, appearing at the
+threshold.
+
+“I come,” said Nina.
+
+“And thou hast to prepare thy thoughts,” she whispered to Rienzi: “arm
+all thy glorious intellect. Alas! is it again we part? How my heart
+sinks!”
+
+The presence of the gaoler at the threshold broke the bitterness
+of parting by abridging it. The false page pressed her lips on the
+prisoner’s hand, and left the cell.
+
+The gaoler, lingering behind for a moment, placed a parchment on the
+table. It was the summons from the court appointed for the trial of the
+Tribune.
+
+
+
+Chapter 7.VI. The Scent Does Not Lie.--The Priest and the Soldier.
+
+On descending the stairs, Nina was met by Alvarez.
+
+“Fair page,” said the Spaniard, gaily, “thy name, thou tellest me, is
+Villani?--Angelo Villani--why I know thy kinsman, methinks. Vouchsafe,
+young master, to enter this chamber, and drink a night-cup to thy lady’s
+health; I would fain learn tidings of my old friends.”
+
+“At another time,” answered the false Angelo, drawing the cloak closer
+round her face; “it is late--I am hurried.”
+
+“Nay,” said the Spaniard, “you escape me not so easily;” and he caught
+firm hold of the page’s shoulder.
+
+“Unhand me, sir!” said Nina, haughtily, and almost weeping, for her
+strong nerves were yet unstrung. “Gaoler, at thy peril--unbar the
+gates.”
+
+“So hot,” said Alvarez, surprised at so great a waste of dignity in
+a page; “nay, I meant not to offend thee. May I wait on thy pageship
+tomorrow?”
+
+“Ay, tomorrow,” said Nina, eager to escape.
+
+“And meanwhile,” said Alvarez, “I will accompany thee home--we can
+confer by the way.”
+
+So saying, without regarding the protestations of the supposed page, he
+passed with Nina into the open air. “Your lady,” said he, carelessly,
+“is wondrous fair; her lightest will is law to the greatest noble of
+Avignon. Methinks she is of Naples--is it so? Art thou dumb, sweet
+youth?”
+
+The page did not answer, but with a step so rapid that it almost put the
+slow Spaniard out of breath, hastened along the narrow space between the
+tower and the palace of the Signora Cesarini, nor could all the efforts
+of Alvarez draw forth a single syllable from his reluctant companion,
+till they reached the gates of the palace, and he found himself
+discourteously left without the walls.
+
+“A plague on the boy!” said he, biting his lips; “if the Cardinal thrive
+as well as his servant, by’re Lady, Monsignore is a happy man!”
+
+By no means pleased with the prospect of an interview with Albornoz,
+who, like most able men, valued the talents of those he employed exactly
+in proportion to their success, the Spaniard slowly returned home. With
+the licence accorded to him, he entered the Cardinal’s chamber somewhat
+abruptly, and perceived him in earnest conversation with a Cavalier,
+whose long moustache, curled upward, and the bright cuirass worn
+underneath his mantle, seemed to betoken him of martial profession.
+Pleased with the respite, Alvarez hastily withdrew: and, in fact, the
+Cardinal’s thoughts at that moment, and for that night, were bent upon
+other subjects than those of love.
+
+The interruption served, however, to shorten the conversation between
+Albornoz and his guest. The latter rose.
+
+“I think,” said he, buckling on a short and broad rapier, which he laid
+aside during the interview,--“I think, my Lord Cardinal, you encourage
+me to consider that our negotiation stands a fair chance of a prosperous
+close. Ten thousand florins, and my brother quits Viterbo, and launches
+the thunderbolt of the Company on the lands of Rimini. On your part--”
+
+“On my part it is agreed,” said the Cardinal, “that the army of the
+Church interferes not with the course of your brother’s arms--there is
+peace between us. One warrior understands another!”
+
+“And the word of Giles d’Albornoz, son of the royal race of Arragon, is
+a guarantee for the faith of a Cardinal,” replied the Cavalier, with a
+smile. “It is, my Lord, in your former quality that we treat.”
+
+“There is my right hand,” answered Albornoz, too politic to heed the
+insinuation. The Cavalier raised it respectfully to his lips, and his
+armed tread was soon heard descending the stairs.
+
+“Victory,” cried Albornoz, tossing his arms aloof; “Victory, now thou
+art mine!”
+
+With that he rose hastily, deposited his papers in an iron chest, and
+opening a concealed door behind the arras, entered a chamber that rather
+resembled a monk’s cell than the apartment of a prince. Over a mean
+pallet hung a sword, a dagger, and a rude image of the Virgin. Without
+summoning Alvarez, the Cardinal unrobed, and in a few moments was
+asleep.
+
+
+
+Chapter 7.VII. Vaucluse and its Genius Loci.--Old Acquaintance Renewed.
+
+The next day at early noon the Cavalier, whom our last chapter presented
+to the reader, was seen mounted on a strong Norman horse, winding his
+way slowly along a green and pleasant path some miles from Avignon. At
+length he found himself in a wild and romantic valley, through which
+wandered that delightful river whose name the verse of Petrarch has
+given to so beloved a fame. Sheltered by rocks, and in this part winding
+through the greenest banks, enamelled with a thousand wild flowers and
+water-weeds, went the crystal Sorgia. Advancing farther, the landscape
+assumed a more sombre and sterile aspect. The valley seemed enclosed or
+shut in by fantastic rocks of a thousand shapes, down which dashed and
+glittered a thousand rivulets. And, in the very wildest of the scene,
+the ground suddenly opened into a quaint and cultivated garden, through
+which, amidst a profusion of foliage, was seen a small and lonely
+mansion,--the hermitage of the place. The horseman was in the valley
+of the Vaucluse; and before his eye lay the garden and the house of
+PETRARCH! Carelessly, however, his eye scanned the consecrated spot;
+and unconsciously it rested, for a moment, upon a solitary figure seated
+musingly by the margin of the river. A large dog at the side of the
+noonday idler barked at the horseman as he rode on. “A brave animal and
+a deep bay!” thought the traveller; to him the dog seemed an object much
+more interesting than its master. And so,--as the crowd of little men
+pass unheeding and unmoved, those in whom Posterity shall acknowledge
+the landmarks of their age,--the horseman turned his glance from the
+Poet!
+
+Thrice blessed name! Immortal Florentine! (I need scarcely say that it
+is his origin, not his actual birth, which entitles us to term Petrarch
+a Florentine.) not as the lover, nor even as the poet, do I bow before
+thy consecrated memory--venerating thee as one it were sacrilege to
+introduce in this unworthy page--save by name and as a shadow; but as
+the first who ever asserted to people and to prince the august majesty
+of Letters; who claimed to Genius the prerogative to influence states,
+to control opinion, to hold an empire over the hearts of men, and
+prepare events by animating passion, and guiding thought! What, (though
+but feebly felt and dimly seen)--what do we yet owe to Thee if Knowledge
+be now a Power; if MIND be a Prophet and a Fate, foretelling and
+foredooming the things to come! From the greatest to the least of us, to
+whom the pen is at once a sceptre and a sword, the low-born Florentine
+has been the arch-messenger to smooth the way and prepare the welcome.
+Yes! even the meanest of the aftercomers--even he who now vents his
+gratitude,--is thine everlasting debtor! Thine, how largely is the
+honour, if his labours, humble though they be, find an audience wherever
+literature is known; preaching in remotest lands the moral of forgotten
+revolutions, and scattering in the palace and the marketplace the seeds
+that shall ripen into fruit when the hand of the sower shall be dust,
+and his very name, perhaps, be lost! For few, alas! are they, whose
+names may outlive the grave; but the thoughts of every man who writes,
+are made undying;--others appropriate, advance, exalt them; and millions
+of minds unknown, undreamt of, are required to produce the immortality
+of one!
+
+Indulging meditations very different from those which the idea of
+Petrarch awakens in a later time, the Cavalier pursued his path.
+
+The valley was long left behind, and the way grew more and more faintly
+traced, until it terminated in a wood, through whose tangled boughs the
+sunlight broke playfully. At length, the wood opened into a wide glade,
+from which rose a precipitous ascent, crowned with the ruins of an old
+castle. The traveller dismounted, led his horse up the ascent, and,
+gaining the ruins, left his steed within one of the roofless chambers,
+overgrown with the longest grass and a profusion of wild shrubs; thence
+ascending, with some toil, a narrow and broken staircase, he found
+himself in a small room, less decayed than the rest, of which the roof
+and floor were yet whole.
+
+Stretched on the ground in his cloak, and leaning his head thoughtfully
+on his hand, was a man of tall stature, and middle age. He lifted
+himself on his arm with great alacrity as the Cavalier entered.
+
+“Well, Brettone, I have counted the hours--what tidings?”
+
+“Albornoz consents.”
+
+“Glad news! Thou givest me new life. Pardieu, I shall breakfast all the
+better for this, my brother. Hast thou remembered that I am famishing?”
+
+Brettone drew from beneath his cloak a sufficiently huge flask of wine,
+and a small panier, tolerably well filled; the inmate of the tower threw
+himself upon the provant with great devotion. And both the soldiers, for
+such they were, stretched at length on the ground, regaled themselves
+with considerable zest, talking hastily and familiarly between every
+mouthful.
+
+“I say, Brettone, thou playest unfairly; thou hast already devoured more
+than half the pasty: push it hitherward. And so the Cardinal consents!
+What manner of man is he? Able as they say?”
+
+“Quick, sharp, and earnest, with an eye of fire, few words, and comes to
+the point.”
+
+“Unlike a priest then;--a good brigand spoilt. What hast thou heard of
+the force he heads? Ho, not so fast with the wine.”
+
+“Scanty at present.--He relies on recruits throughout Italy.”
+
+“What his designs for Rome? There, my brother, there tends my secret
+soul! As for these petty towns and petty tyrants, I care not how they
+fall, or by whom. But the Pope must not return to Rome. Rome must be
+mine. The city of a new empire, the conquest of a new Attila! There,
+every circumstance combines in my favour!--the absence of the Pope, the
+weakness of the middle class, the poverty of the populace, the imbecile
+though ferocious barbarism of the Barons, have long concurred to render
+Rome the most facile, while the most glorious conquest!”
+
+“My brother, pray Heaven your ambition do not wreck you at last; you
+are ever losing sight of the land. Surely with the immense wealth we are
+acquiring, we may--”
+
+“Aspire to be something greater than Free Companions, generals today,
+and adventurers tomorrow. Rememberest thou, how the Norman sword won
+Sicily, and how the bastard William converted on the field of Hastings
+his baton into a sceptre. I tell thee, Brettone, that this loose Italy
+has crowns on the hedge that a dexterous hand may carry off at the point
+of the lance. My course is taken, I will form the fairest army in Italy,
+and with it I will win a throne in the Capitol. Fool that I was six
+years ago!--Instead of deputing that mad dolt Pepin of Minorbino, had
+I myself deserted the Hungarian, and repaired with my soldiery to Rome,
+the fall of Rienzi would have been followed by the rise of Montreal.
+Pepin was outwitted, and threw away the prey after he had hunted it
+down. The lion shall not again trust the chase to the jackal!”
+
+“Walter, thou speakest of the fate of Rienzi, let it warn thee!”
+
+“Rienzi!” replied Montreal; “I know the man! In peaceful times or with
+an honest people, he would have founded a great dynasty. But he dreamt
+of laws and liberty for men who despise the first and will not protect
+the last. We, of a harder race, know that a new throne must be built by
+the feudal and not the civil system; and into the city we must
+transport the camp. It is by the multitude that the proud Tribune gained
+power,--by the multitude he lost it; it is by the sword that I will win
+it, and by the sword will I keep it!”
+
+“Rienzi was too cruel, he should not have incensed the Barons,” said
+Brettone, about to finish the flask, when the strong hand of his brother
+plucked it from him, and anticipated the design.
+
+“Pooh,” said Montreal, finishing the draught with a long sigh, “he was
+not cruel enough. He sought only to be just, and not to distinguish
+between noble and peasant. He should have distinguished! He should have
+exterminated the nobles root and branch. But this no Italian can do.
+This is reserved for me.”
+
+“Thou wouldst not butcher all the best blood of Rome?”
+
+“Butcher! No, but I would seize their lands, and endow with them a new
+nobility, the hardy and fierce nobility of the North, who well know how
+to guard their prince, and will guard him, as the fountain of their own
+power. Enough of this now. And talking of Rienzi--rots he still in his
+dungeon?”
+
+“Why, this morning, ere I left, I heard strange news. The town was
+astir, groups in every corner. They said that Rienzi’s trial was to be
+today, and from the names of the judges chosen, it is suspected that
+acquittal is already determined on.”
+
+“Ha! thou shouldst have told me of this before.”
+
+“Should he be restored to Rome, would it militate against thy plans?”
+
+“Humph! I know not--deep thought and dexterous management would be
+needed. I would fain not leave this spot till I hear what is decided
+on.”
+
+“Surely, Walter, it would have been wiser and safer to have stayed
+with thy soldiery, and intrusted me with the absolute conduct of this
+affair.”
+
+“Not so,” answered Montreal; “thou art a bold fellow enough, and a
+cunning--but my head in these matters is better than thine. Besides,”
+ continued the Knight, lowering his voice, and shading his face, “I had
+vowed a pilgrimage to the beloved river, and the old trysting-place. Ah
+me!--But all this, Brettone, thou understandest not--let it pass. As for
+my safety, since we have come to this amnesty with Albornoz, I fear but
+little danger even if discovered: besides, I want the florins. There are
+those in this country, Germans, who could eat an Italian army at a meal,
+whom I would fain engage, and their leaders want earnest-money--the
+griping knaves!--How are the Cardinal’s florins to be paid?”
+
+“Half now--half when thy troops are before Rimini!”
+
+“Rimini! the thought whets my sword. Rememberest thou how that
+accursed Malatesta drove me from Aversa, (This Malatesta, a signior of
+illustrious family, was one of the most skilful warriors in Italy. He
+and his brother Galeotto had been raised to the joint-tyranny of Rimini
+by the voice of its citizens. After being long the foes of the Church,
+they were ultimately named as its captains by the Cardinal Albornoz.)
+broke up my camp, and made me render to him all my booty? There fell the
+work of years! But for that, my banner now would be floating over St.
+Angelo. I will pay back the debt with fire and sword, ere the summer has
+shed its leaves.”
+
+The fair countenance of Montreal grew terrible as he uttered these
+words; his hands griped the handle of his sword, and his strong frame
+heaved visibly; tokens of the fierce and unsparing passions, by the aid
+of which a life of rapine and revenge had corrupted a nature originally
+full no less of the mercy than the courage of Provencal chivalry.
+
+Such was the fearful man who now (the wildness of his youth sobered, and
+his ambition hardened and concentered) was the rival with Rienzi for the
+mastery of Rome.
+
+
+
+Chapter 7.VIII. The Crowd.--The Trial.--The Verdict.--The Soldier and
+the Page.
+
+It was on the following evening that a considerable crowd had gathered
+in the streets of Avignon. It was the second day of the examination
+of Rienzi, and with every moment was expected the announcement of the
+verdict. Amongst the foreigners of all countries assembled in that seat
+of the Papal splendour, the interest was intense. The Italians, even of
+the highest rank, were in favour of the Tribune, the French against him.
+As for the good townspeople of Avignon themselves, they felt but little
+excitement in any thing that did not bring money into their pockets; and
+if it had been put to the secret vote, no doubt there would have been a
+vast majority for burning the prisoner, as a marketable speculation!
+
+Amongst the crowd was a tall man in a plain and rusty suit of armour,
+but with an air of knightly bearing, which somewhat belied the
+coarseness of his mail; he wore no helmet, but a small morion of black
+leather, with a long projecting shade, much used by wayfarers in the
+hot climates of the south. A black patch covered nearly the whole of
+one cheek, and altogether he bore the appearance of a grim soldier, with
+whom war had dealt harshly, both in purse and person.
+
+Many were the jests at the shabby swordsman’s expense, with which that
+lively population amused their impatience; and though the shade of the
+morion concealed his eyes, an arch and merry smile about the corners of
+his mouth shewed that he could take a jest at himself.
+
+“Well,” said one of the crowd, (a rich Milanese,) “I am of a state that
+was free, and I trust the People’s man will have justice shewn him.”
+
+“Amen,” said a grave Florentine.
+
+“They say,” whispered a young student from Paris, to a learned doctor of
+laws, with whom he abode, “that his defence has been a masterpiece.”
+
+“He hath taken no degrees,” replied the doctor, doubtingly. “Ho, friend,
+why dost thou push me so? thou hast rent my robe.”
+
+This was said to a minstrel, or jongleur, who, with a small lute slung
+round him, was making his way, with great earnestness, through the
+throng.
+
+“I beg pardon, worthy sir,” said the minstrel; “but this is a scene to
+be sung of! Centuries hence; ay, and in lands remote, legend and song
+will tell the fortunes of Cola di Rienzi, the friend of Petrarch and the
+Tribune of Rome!”
+
+The young French student turned quickly round to the minstrel, with
+a glow on his pale face; not sharing the general sentiments of his
+countrymen against Rienzi, he felt that it was an era in the world when
+a minstrel spoke thus of the heroes of intellect--not of war.
+
+At this time the tall soldier was tapped impatiently on the back.
+
+“I pray thee, great sir,” said a sharp and imperious voice, “to withdraw
+that tall bulk of thine a little on one side--I cannot see through thee;
+and I would fain my eyes were among the first to catch a glimpse of
+Rienzi as he passes from the court.”
+
+“Fair sir page,” replied the soldier, good-humouredly, as he made way
+for Angelo Villani, “thou wilt not always find that way in the world is
+won by commanding the strong. When thou art older thou wilt beard the
+weak, and the strong thou wilt wheedle.”
+
+“I must change my nature, then,” answered Angelo, (who was of somewhat
+small stature, and not yet come to his full growth,) trying still to
+raise himself above the heads of the crowd.
+
+The soldier looked at him approvingly; and as he looked he sighed, and
+his lips worked with some strange emotion.
+
+“Thou speakest well,” said he, after a pause. “Pardon me the rudeness
+of the question; but art thou of Italy?--thy tongue savours of the Roman
+dialect; yet I have seen lineaments like thine on this side the Alps.”
+
+“It may be, good fellow,” said the page, haughtily; “but I thank Heaven
+that I am of Rome.”
+
+At this moment a loud shout burst from that part of the crowd nearest
+the court. The sound of trumpets again hushed the throng into deep and
+breathless silence, while the Pope’s guards, ranged along the space
+conducting from the court, drew themselves up more erect, and fell a
+step or two back upon the crowd.
+
+As the trumpet ceased, the voice of a herald was heard, but it did not
+penetrate within several yards of the spot where Angelo and the soldier
+stood; and it was only by a mighty shout that in a moment circled
+through, and was echoed back by, the wide multitude--by the waving of
+kerchiefs from the windows--by broken ejaculations, which were caught up
+from lip to lip, that the page knew that Rienzi was acquitted.
+
+“I would I could see his face!” sighed the page, querulously.
+
+“And thou shalt,” said the soldier; and he caught up the boy in his
+arms, and pressed on with the strength of a giant, parting the living
+stream from right to left, as he took his way to a place near the
+guards, and by which Rienzi was sure to pass.
+
+The page, half-pleased, half-indignant, struggled a little, but finding
+it in vain, consented tacitly to what he felt an outrage on his dignity.
+
+“Never mind,” said the soldier, “thou art the first I ever willingly
+raised above myself; and I do it now for the sake of thy fair face,
+which reminds me of one I loved.”
+
+But these last words were spoken low, and the boy, in his anxiety to see
+the hero of Rome, did not hear or heed them. Presently Rienzi came by;
+two gentlemen, of the Pope’s own following, walked by his side. He moved
+slowly, amidst the greetings and clamour of the crowd, looking neither
+to the right nor left. His bearing was firm and collected, and, save by
+the flush of his cheek, there was no external sign of joy or excitement.
+Flowers dropped from every balcony on his path; and just when he came to
+a broader space, where the ground was somewhat higher, and where he
+was in fuller view of the houses around, he paused--and, uncovering,
+acknowledged the homage he had received, with a look--a gesture--which
+each who beheld never forgot. It haunted even that gay and thoughtless
+court, when the last tale of Rienzi’s life reached their ears. And
+Angelo, clinging then round that soldier’s neck, recalled--but we must
+not anticipate.
+
+It was not, however, to the dark tower that Rienzi returned. His home
+was prepared at the palace of the Cardinal d’Albornoz. The next day he
+was admitted to the Pope’s presence, and on the evening of that day he
+was proclaimed Senator of Rome.
+
+Meanwhile the soldier had placed Angelo on the ground; and as the page
+faltered out no courteous thanks, he interrupted him in a sad and kind
+voice, the tone of which struck the page forcibly, so little did it suit
+the rough and homely appearance of the man.
+
+“We part,” he said, “as strangers, fair boy; and since thou sayest thou
+art of Rome, there is no reason why my heart should have warmed to thee
+as it has done; yet if ever thou wantest a friend,--seek him”--and the
+soldier’s voice sunk into a whisper--“in Walter de Montreal.”
+
+Ere the page recovered his surprise at that redoubted name, which his
+earliest childhood had been taught to dread, the Knight of St. John had
+vanished amongst the crowd.
+
+
+
+Chapter 7.IX. Albornoz and Nina.
+
+But the eyes which, above all others, thirsted for a glimpse of the
+released captive were forbidden that delight. Alone in her chamber, Nina
+awaited the result of the trial. She heard the shouts, the exclamations,
+the tramp of thousands along the street; she felt that the victory was
+won; and, her heart long overcharged, she burst into passionate tears.
+The return of Angelo soon acquainted her with all that had passed; but
+it somewhat chilled her joy to find Rienzi was the guest of the dreaded
+Cardinal. That shock, in which certainty, however happy, replaces
+suspense, had so powerful an effect on her frame, joined to her loathing
+fear of a visit from the Cardinal, that she became for three days
+alarmingly ill; and it was only on the fifth day from that which saw
+Rienzi endowed with the rank of Senator of Rome, that she was recovered
+sufficiently to admit Albornoz to her presence.
+
+The Cardinal had sent daily to inquire after her health, and his
+inquiries, to her alarmed mind, had appeared to insinuate a pretension
+to the right to make them. Meanwhile Albornoz had had enough to divert
+and occupy his thoughts. Having bought off the formidable Montreal from
+the service of John de Vico, one of the ablest and fiercest enemies of
+the Church, he resolved to march to the territories of that tyrant as
+expeditiously as possible, and so not to allow him time to obtain the
+assistance of any other band of the mercenary adventurers, who found
+Italy the market for their valour. Occupied with raising troops,
+procuring money, corresponding with the various free states, and
+establishing alliances in aid of his ulterior and more ambitious
+projects at the court of Avignon, the Cardinal waited with tolerable
+resignation the time when he might claim from the Signora Cesarini the
+reward to which he deemed himself entitled. Meanwhile he had held his
+first conversations with Rienzi, and, under the semblance of courtesy to
+the acquitted Tribune, Albornoz had received him as his guest, in order
+to make himself master of the character and disposition of one in whom
+he sought a minister and a tool. That miraculous and magic art, attested
+by the historians of the time, which Rienzi possessed over every one
+with whom he came into contact, however various in temper, station, or
+opinions, had not deserted him in his interview with the Pontiff. So
+faithfully had he described the true condition of Rome, so logically
+had he traced the causes and the remedies of the evils she endured, so
+sanguinely had he spoken of his own capacities for administering her
+affairs, and so brilliantly had he painted the prospects which that
+administration opened to the weal of the Church, and the interests
+of the Pope, that Innocent, though a keen and shrewd, and somewhat
+sceptical calculator of human chances, was entirely fascinated by the
+eloquence of the Roman.
+
+“Is this the man,” he is reported to have said, “whom for twelve months
+we have treated as a prisoner and a criminal? Would that it were on his
+shoulders only that the Christian empire reposed!”
+
+At the close of the interview he had, with every mark of favour and
+distinction, conferred upon Rienzi the rank of Senator, which, in
+fact, was that of Viceroy of Rome, and had willingly acceded to all the
+projects which the enterprising Rienzi had once more formed--not only
+for recovering the territories of the Church, but for extending the
+dictatorial sway of the Seven-hilled City, over the old dependencies of
+Italy.
+
+Albornoz, to whom the Pope retailed this conversation, was somewhat
+jealous of the favour the new Senator had so suddenly acquired, and
+immediately on his return home sought an interview with his guest. In
+his heart, the Lord Cardinal, emphatically a man of action and business,
+regarded Rienzi as one rather cunning than wise--rather fortunate than
+great--a mixture of the pedant and the demagogue. But after a long and
+scrutinizing conversation with the new Senator, even he yielded to
+the spell of his enchanting and master intellect. Reluctantly Albornoz
+confessed to himself that Rienzi’s rise was not the thing of chance;
+yet more reluctantly he perceived that the Senator was one whom he
+might treat with as an equal, but could not rule as a minion. And he
+entertained serious doubts whether it would be wise to reinstate him in
+a power which he evinced the capacity to wield and the genius to extend.
+Still, however, he did not repent the share he had taken in Rienzi’s
+acquittal. His presence in a camp so thinly peopled was a matter greatly
+to be desired. And through his influence, the Cardinal more than
+ever trusted to enlist the Romans in favour of his enterprise for the
+recovery of the territory of St. Peter!
+
+Rienzi, who panted once more to behold his Nina, endeared to him by
+trial and absence, as by fresh bridals, was not however able to discover
+the name she had assumed at Avignon; and his residence with the Cardinal
+closely but respectfully watched as he was, forbade Nina all opportunity
+of corresponding with him. Some half bantering hints which Albornoz had
+dropped upon the interest taken in his welfare by the most celebrated
+beauty of Avignon, had filled him with a vague alarm which he trembled
+to acknowledge even to himself. But the volto sciolto (Volto sciolto,
+pensieri stretti--the countenance open, the thoughts restrained.) which,
+in common with all Italian politicians, concealed whatever were his
+pensieri stretti--enabled him to baffle completely the jealous and
+lynxlike observation of the Cardinal. Nor had Alvarez been better
+enabled to satisfy the curiosity of his master. He had indeed sought the
+page Villani, but the imperious manner of that wayward and haughty
+boy had cut short all attempts at cross-examination. And all he could
+ascertain was, that the real Angelo Villani was not the Angelo Villani
+who had visited Rienzi.
+
+Trusting at last that he should learn all, and inflamed by such passion
+and such hope as he was capable of feeling, Albornoz now took his way to
+the Cesarini’s palace.
+
+He was ushered with due state into the apartment of the Signora. He
+found her pale, and with the traces of illness upon her noble and
+statuelike features. She rose as he entered; and when he approached,
+she half bent her knee, and raised his hand to her lips. Surprised and
+delighted at a reception so new, the Cardinal hastened to prevent the
+condescension; retaining both her hands, he attempted gently to draw
+them to his heart.
+
+“Fairest!” he whispered, “couldst thou know hear I have mourned thy
+illness--and yet it has but left thee more lovely, as the rain only
+brightens the flower. Ah! happy if I have promoted thy lightest wish,
+and if in thine eyes I may henceforth seek at once an angel to guide me
+and a paradise to reward.”
+
+Nina, releasing her hand, waved it gently, and motioned the Cardinal to
+a seat. Seating herself at a little distance, she then spoke with great
+gravity and downcast eyes.
+
+“My Lord, it is your intercession, joined to his own innocence, that has
+released from yonder tower the elected governor of the people of Rome.
+But freedom is the least of the generous gifts you have conferred;
+there is a greater in a fair name vindicated, and rightful honours
+re-bestowed. For this, I rest ever your debtor; for this, if I bear
+children, they shall be taught to bless your name; for this the
+historian who recalls the deeds of this age, and the fortunes of Cola
+di Rienzi, shall add a new chaplet to the wreaths you have already won.
+Lord Cardinal, I may have erred. I may have offended you--you may accuse
+me of woman’s artifice. Speak not, wonder not, hear me out. I have
+but one excuse, when I say that I held justified any means short of
+dishonour, to save the life and restore the fortunes of Cola di Rienzi.
+Know, my Lord, that she who now addresses you is his wife.”
+
+The Cardinal remained motionless and silent. But his sallow countenance
+grew flushed from the brow to the neck, and his thin lips quivered for
+a moment, and then broke into a withering and bitter smile. At length
+he rose from his seat, very slowly, and said, in a voice trembling with
+passion,
+
+“It is well, madam. Giles d’Albornoz has been, then, a puppet in the
+hands, a stepping-stone in the rise, of the plebeian demagogue of Rome.
+You but played upon me for your own purposes; and nothing short of a
+Cardinal of Spain, and a Prince of the royal blood of Aragon, was meet
+to be the instrument of a mountebank’s juggle! Madam, yourself and your
+husband might justly be accused of ambition--”
+
+“Cease, my Lord,” said Nina, with unspeakable dignity; “whatever offence
+has been committed against you was mine alone. Till after our last
+interview, Rienzi knew not even of my presence at Avignon.”
+
+“At our last interview, Lady, (you do well to recall it!) methinks there
+was a hinted and implied contract. I have fulfilled my part--I claim
+yours. Mark me! I do not forego that claim. As easily as I rend this
+glove can I rend the parchment which proclaims thy husband ‘the Senator
+of Rome.’ The dungeon is not death, and its door will open twice.”
+
+“My Lord--my Lord!” cried Nina, sick with terror, “wrong not so your
+noble nature, your great name, your sacred rank, your chivalric blood.
+You are of the knightly race of Spain, yours not the sullen, low, and
+inexorable vices that stain the petty tyrants of this unhappy land.
+You are no Visconti--no Castracani--you cannot stain your laurels with
+revenge upon a woman. Hear me,” she continued, and she fell abruptly at
+his feet; “men dupe, deceive our sex--and for selfish purposes; they are
+pardoned--even by their victims. Did I deceive you with a false hope?
+Well--what my object?--what my excuse? My husband’s liberty--my land’s
+salvation! Woman,--my Lord, alas, your sex too rarely understand her
+weakness or her greatness! Erring--all human as she is to others--God
+gifts her with a thousand virtues to the one she loves! It is from
+that love that she alone drinks her nobler nature. For the hero of her
+worship she has the meekness of the dove--the devotion of the saint;
+for his safety in peril, for his rescue in misfortune, her vain sense
+imbibes the sagacity of the serpent--her weak heart, the courage of the
+lioness! It is this which, in absence, made me mask my face in smiles,
+that the friends of the houseless exile might not despair of his
+fate--it is this which brought me through forests beset with robbers, to
+watch the stars upon yon solitary tower--it was this which led my steps
+to the revels of your hated court--this which made me seek a deliverer
+in the noblest of its chiefs--it is this which has at last opened the
+dungeon door to the prisoner now within your halls; and this,
+Lord Cardinal,” added Nina, rising, and folding her arms upon her
+heart--“this, if your anger seeks a victim, will inspire me to die
+without a groan,--but without dishonour!”
+
+Albornoz remained rooted to the ground.
+Amazement--emotion--admiration--all busy at his heart. He gazed at
+Nina’s flashing eyes and heaving bosom as a warrior of old upon a
+prophetess inspired. His eyes were riveted to hers as by a spell. He
+tried to speak, but his voice failed him. Nina continued:
+
+“Yes, my Lord; these are no idle words! If you seek revenge, it is in
+your power. Undo what you have done. Give Rienzi back to the dungeon,
+or to disgrace, and you are avenged; but not on him. All the hearts of
+Italy shall become to him a second Nina! I am the guilty one, and I the
+sufferer. Hear me swear--in that instant which sees new wrong to Rienzi,
+this hand is my executioner.--My Lord, I supplicate you no longer!”
+
+Albornoz continued deeply moved. Nina but rightly judged him, when she
+distinguished the aspiring Spaniard from the barbarous and unrelenting
+voluptuaries of Italy. Despite the profligacy that stained his sacred
+robe--despite all the acquired and increasing callousness of a hard,
+scheming, and sceptical man, cast amidst the worst natures of the worst
+of times--there lingered yet in his soul much of the knightly honour
+of his race and country. High thoughts and daring spirits touched a
+congenial string in his heart, and not the less, in that he had but
+rarely met them in his experience of camps and courts. For the first
+time in his life, he felt that he had seen the woman who could have
+contented him even with wedlock, and taught him the proud and faithful
+love of which the minstrels of Spain had sung. He sighed, and still
+gazing on Nina, approached her, almost reverentially; he knelt and
+kissed the hem of her robe. “Lady,” he said, “I would I could believe
+that you have altogether read my nature aright, but I were indeed lost
+to all honour, and unworthy of gentle birth, if I still harboured a
+single thought against the peace and virtue of one like thee. Sweet
+heroine,”--he continued--“so lovely, yet so pure--so haughty, and yet
+so soft--thou hast opened to me the brightest page these eyes have
+ever scanned in the blotted volume of mankind. Mayest thou have such
+happiness as life can give; but souls such as thine make their nest like
+the eagle, upon rocks and amidst the storms. Fear me no more--think
+of me no more--unless hereafter, when thou hearest men speak of
+Giles d’Albornoz, thou mayest say in thine own heart,”--and here the
+Cardinal’s lip curled with scorn--“he did not renounce every feeling
+worthy of a man, when Ambition and Fate endued him with the surplice of
+the priest.”
+
+The Spaniard was gone before Nina could reply.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK VIII. THE GRAND COMPANY.
+
+     “Montreal nourrissoit de plus vastes projets...il donnoit a
+     sa campagnie un gouvernement regulier...Par cette discipline
+     il faisoit regner l’abondance dans son camp; les gens de
+     guerre ne parloient, en Italie, que des richesses qu’on
+     acqueroit a son service.”--Sismondi, “Histoire des
+     Republiques Italiennes”, tom. vi. c. 42.
+
+     “Montreal cherished more vast designs...he subjected his
+     company to a regular system of government...By means of this
+     discipline he kept his camp abundantly supplied, and
+     military adventurers in Italy talked of nothing but the
+     wealth won in his service.”--Sismondi’s “History of Italian
+     Republics”.
+
+
+
+Chapter 8.I. The Encampment.
+
+It was a most lovely day, in the very glow and meridian of an Italian
+summer, when a small band of horsemen were seen winding a hill which
+commanded one of the fairest landscapes of Tuscany. At their head was a
+cavalier in a complete suit of chain armour, the links of which were
+so fine, that they resembled a delicate and curious network, but so
+strongly compacted, that they would have resisted spear or sword no
+less effectually than the heaviest corselet, while adapting themselves
+exactly and with ease to every movement of the light and graceful shape
+of the rider. He wore a hat of dark green velvet shaded by long plumes,
+while of two squires behind, the one bore his helmet and lance, the
+other led a strong warhorse, completely cased in plates of mail, which
+seemed, however, scarcely to encumber its proud and agile paces.
+The countenance of the cavalier was comely, but strongly marked, and
+darkened, by long exposure to the suns of many climes, to a deep bronze
+hue: a few raven ringlets escaped from beneath his hat down a cheek
+closely shaven. The expression of his features was grave and composed
+even to sadness; nor could all the loveliness of the unrivalled scene
+before him dispel the quiet and settled melancholy of his eyes. Besides
+the squires, ten horsemen, armed cap-a-pie, attended the knight; and the
+low and murmured conversation they carried on at intervals, as well as
+their long fair hair, large stature, thick short beards, and the studied
+and accurate equipment of their arms and steeds, bespoke them of a
+hardier and more warlike race than the children of the south. The
+cavalcade was closed with a man almost of gigantic height, bearing
+a banner richly decorated, wherein was wrought a column, with the
+inscription, “ALONE AMIDST RUINS.” Fair indeed was the prospect which
+with every step expanded yet more widely its various beauty. Right
+before stretched a long vale, now covered with green woodlands
+glittering in the yellow sunlight, now opening into narrow plains
+bordered by hillocks, from whose mosses of all hues grew fantastic and
+odorous shrubs; while, winding amidst them, a broad and silver stream
+broke into light at frequent intervals, snatched by wood and hillock
+from the eye, only to steal upon it again, in sudden and bright
+surprise. The opposite slope of gentle mountains, as well as that which
+the horsemen now descended, was covered with vineyards, trained in
+alleys and arcades: and the clustering grape laughed from every leafy
+and glossy covert, as gaily as when the Fauns held a holiday in the
+shade. The eye of the Cavalier roved listlessly over this enchanting
+prospect, sleeping in the rosiest light of a Tuscan heaven, and then
+became fixed with a more earnest attention on the grey and frowning
+walls of a distant castle, which, high upon the steepest of the opposite
+mountains, overlooked the valley.
+
+“Behold,” he muttered to himself, “how every Eden in Italy hath its
+curse! Wherever the land smiles fairest, be sure to find the brigand’s
+tent and the tyrant’s castle!”
+
+Scarce had these thoughts passed his mind, ere the shrill and sudden
+blast of a bugle that sounded close amongst the vineyards by the side
+of the path startled the whole group. The cavalcade halted abruptly. The
+leader made a gesture to the squire who led his war-horse. The noble
+and practised animal remained perfectly still, save by champing its bit
+restlessly, and moving its quick ear to and fro, as aware of a coming
+danger,--while the squire, unencumbered by the heavy armour of the
+Germans, plunged into the thicket and disappeared. He returned in a few
+minutes, already heated and breathless.
+
+“We must be on our guard,” he whispered; “I see the glimmer of steel
+through the vine leaves.”
+
+“Our ground is unhappily chosen,” said the Knight, hastily bracing on
+his helmet and leaping on his charger; and waving his hand towards a
+broader space in the road, which would permit the horsemen more room
+to act in union, with his small band he made hastily to the spot--the
+armour of the soldiers rattling heavily as two by two they proceeded on.
+
+The space to which the Cavalier had pointed was a green semicircle of
+several yards in extent, backed by tangled copses of brushwood sloping
+down to the vale below. They reached it in safety; they drew up breast
+to breast in the form of a crescent: every visor closed save that of the
+Knight, who looked anxiously and keenly round the landscape.
+
+“Hast thou heard, Giulio,” he said, to his favourite squire, (the only
+Italian of the band,) “whether any brigands have been seen lately in
+these parts?”
+
+“No, my Lord; on the contrary, I am told that every lance hath left the
+country to join the Grand Company of Fra Moreale. The love of his pay
+and plunder has drawn away the mercenaries of every Tuscan Signor.”
+
+As he ceased speaking, the bugle sounded again from nearly the same spot
+as before; it was answered by a brief and martial note from the very
+rear of the horsemen. At the same moment, from the thickets behind,
+broke the gleam of mail and spears. One after another, rank after rank,
+from the copse behind them, emerged men-at-arms, while suddenly, from
+the vines in front, still greater numbers poured forth with loud and
+fierce shouts.
+
+“For God, for the Emperor, and for the Colonna!” cried the Knight,
+closing his visor; and the little band, closely serried, the lance in
+every rest, broke upon the rush of the enemy in front. A score or so,
+borne to the ground by the charge, cleared a path for the horsemen, and,
+without waiting the assault of the rest, the Knight wheeled his charger
+and led the way down the hill, almost at full gallop, despite the
+roughness of the descent: a flight of arrows despatched after them fell
+idly on their iron mail.
+
+“If they have no horse,” cried the Knight, “we are saved!”
+
+And, indeed, the enemy seemed scarcely to think of pursuing them; but
+(gathered on the brow of a hill) appeared contented to watch their
+flight.
+
+Suddenly a curve in the road brought them before a broad and wide patch
+of waste land, which formed almost a level surface, interrupting the
+descent of the mountain. On the commencement of this waste, drawn up in
+still array, the sunlight broke on the breastplates of a long line of
+horsemen, whom the sinuosities of the road had hitherto concealed from
+the Knight and his party.
+
+The little troop halted abruptly--retreat--advance alike cut off; gazing
+first at the foe before them, that remained still as a cloud, every eye
+was then turned towards the Knight.
+
+“An thou wouldst, my Lord,” said the leader of the Northmen, perceiving
+the irresolution of their chief, “we will fight to the last. You are the
+only Italian I ever knew whom I would willingly die for!”
+
+This rude profession was received with a sympathetic murmur from the
+rest, and the soldiers drew closer around the Knight. “Nay, my brave
+fellows,” said the Colonna, lifting his visor, “it is not in so
+inglorious a field, after such various fortunes, that we are doomed to
+perish. If these be brigands, as we must suppose, we can yet purchase
+our way. If the troops of some Signor, we are strangers to the feud in
+which he is engaged. Give me yon banner--I will ride on to them.”
+
+“Nay, my Lord,” said Giulio; “such marauders do not always spare a flag
+of truce. There is danger--”
+
+“For that reason your leader braves it. Quick!”
+
+The Knight took the banner, and rode deliberately up to the horsemen. On
+approaching, his warlike eye could not but admire the perfect caparison
+of their arms, the strength and beauty of their steeds, and the steady
+discipline of their long and glittering line.
+
+As he rode up, and his gorgeous banner gleamed in the noonlight, the
+soldiers saluted him. It was a good omen, and he hailed it as such.
+“Fair sirs,” said the Knight, “I come, at once herald and leader of the
+little band who have just escaped the unlooked-for assault of armed men
+on yonder hill--and, claiming aid, as knight from knight, and soldier
+from soldier, I place my troop under the protection of your leader.
+Suffer me to see him.”
+
+“Sir Knight,” answered one, who seemed the captain of the band, “sorry
+am I to detain one of your gallant bearing, and still more so, on
+recognising the device of one of the most potent houses of Italy. But
+our orders are strict, and we must bring all armed men to the camp of
+our General.”
+
+“Long absent from my native land, I knew not,” replied the Knight, “that
+there was war in Tuscany. Permit me to crave the name of the general
+whom you speak of, and that of the foe against whom ye march.”
+
+The Captain smiled slightly.
+
+“Walter de Montreal is the General of the Great Company, and Florence
+his present foe.”
+
+“We have fallen, then, into friendly, if fierce, hands,” replied the
+Knight, after a moment’s pause. “To Sir Walter de Montreal I am known
+of old. Permit me to return to my companions, and acquaint them that
+if accident has made us prisoners, it is, at least, only to the most
+skilful warrior of his day that we are condemned to yield.”
+
+The Italian then turned his horse to join his comrades.
+
+“A fair Knight and a bold presence,” said the Captain of the Companions
+to his neighbour, “though I scarce think it is the party we are ordered
+to intercept. Praised be the Virgin, however, his men seem from the
+North. Them, perhaps, we may hope to enlist.”
+
+The Knight now, with his comrades, rejoined the troop. And, on receiving
+their parole not to attempt escape, a detachment of thirty horsemen
+were despatched to conduct the prisoners to the encampment of the Great
+Company.
+
+Turning from the main road, the Knight found himself conducted into a
+narrow defile between the hills, which, succeeded by a gloomy track of
+wild forest-land, brought the party at length into a full and abrupt
+view of a wide plain, covered with the tents of what, for Italian
+warfare, was considered a mighty army. A stream, over which rude and
+hasty bridges had been formed from the neighbouring timber, alone
+separated the horsemen from the encampment.
+
+“A noble sight!” said the captive Cavalier, with enthusiasm, as he
+reined in his steed, and gazed upon the wild and warlike streets of
+canvass, traversing each other in vistas broad and regular.
+
+One of the captains of the Great Company who rode beside him, smiled
+complacently.
+
+“There are few masters of the martial art who equal Fra Moreale,”
+ said he; “and savage, reckless, and gathered from all parts and all
+countries--from cavern and from marketplace, from prison and from
+palace, as are his troops, he has reduced them already into a discipline
+which might shame even the soldiery of the Empire.”
+
+The Knight made no reply; but, spurring his horse over one of the rugged
+bridges, soon found himself amidst the encampment. But that part at
+which he entered little merited the praises bestowed upon the discipline
+of the army. A more unruly and disorderly array, the Cavalier,
+accustomed to the stern regularity of English, French, and German
+discipline, thought he had never beheld: here and there, fierce,
+unshaven, half-naked brigands might be seen, driving before them the
+cattle which they had just collected by predatory excursions.
+Sometimes a knot of dissolute women stood--chattering, scolding,
+gesticulating--collected round groups of wild shagged Northmen, who,
+despite the bright purity of the summer-noon, were already engaged in
+deep potations. Oaths, and laughter, and drunken merriment, and fierce
+brawl, rang from side to side; and ever and anon some hasty conflict
+with drawn knives was begun and finished by the fiery and savage bravoes
+of Calabria or the Apennines, before the very eyes and almost in the
+very path of the troop. Tumblers, and mountebanks, and jugglers, and Jew
+pedlers, were exhibiting their tricks or their wares at every interval,
+apparently well inured to the lawless and turbulent market in which they
+exercised their several callings. Despite the protection of the horsemen
+who accompanied them, the prisoners were not allowed to pass without
+molestation. Groups of urchins, squalid, fierce, and ragged, seemed to
+start from the ground, and surrounded their horses like swarms of bees,
+uttering the most discordant cries; and, with the gestures of savages,
+rather demanding than beseeching money, which, when granted, seemed only
+to render them more insatiable. While, sometimes mingled with the
+rest, were seen the bright eyes and olive cheek, and half-pleading,
+half-laughing smile of girls, whose extreme youth, scarce emerged
+from childhood, rendered doubly striking their utter and unredeemed
+abandonment.
+
+“You did not exaggerate the decorum of the Grand Company!” cried the
+Knight, gravely, to his new acquaintance.
+
+“Signor,” replied the other, “you must not judge of the kernel by the
+shell. We are scarcely yet arrived at the camp. These are the outskirts,
+occupied rather by the rabble than the soldiers. Twenty thousand men
+from the sink, it must be owned, of every town in Italy, follow
+the camp, to fight if necessary, but rather for plunder, and for
+forage:--such you now behold. Presently you will see those of another
+stamp.”
+
+The Knight’s heart swelled high. “And to such men is Italy given up!”
+ thought he. His revery was broken by a loud burst of applause from some
+convivialists hard by. He turned, and under a long tent, and round a
+board covered with wine and viands, sate some thirty or forty bravoes. A
+ragged minstrel, or jongleur, with an immense beard and mustachios, was
+tuning, with no inconsiderable skill, a lute which had accompanied him
+in all his wanderings--and suddenly changing its notes into a wild and
+warlike melody, he commenced in a loud and deep voice the following
+song:--
+
+The Praise of the Grand Company.
+
+     1.
+
+     Ho, dark one from the golden South,--
+     Ho, fair one from the North;
+     Ho, coat of mail and spear of sheen--
+     Ho, wherefore ride ye forth?
+     “We come from mount, we come from cave,
+     We come across the sea,
+     In long array, in bright array,
+     To Montreal’s Companie.”
+      Oh, the merry, merry band.
+     Light heart, and heavy hand--
+     Oh, the Lances of the Free!
+
+     2.
+
+     Ho, Princes of the castled height--
+     Ho, Burghers of the town;
+     Apulia’s strength, Romagna’s pride,
+     And Tusca’s old renown!
+     Why quail ye thus? why pale ye thus?
+     What spectre do ye see?
+     “The blood-red flag, and trampling march,
+     Of Montreal’s Companie.”
+      Oh, the sunshine of your life--
+     Oh, the thunders of your strife!
+     Wild Lances of the Free!
+
+     3.
+
+     Ho, scutcheons o’er the vaulted tomb
+     Where Norman valour sleeps,
+     Why shake ye so? why quake ye so!
+     What wind the trophy sweeps?
+     “We shake without a breath--below,
+     The dead are stirred to see,
+     The Norman’s fame revived again
+     In Montreal’s Companie.”
+      Since Roger won his crown,
+     Who hath equalled your renown,
+     Brave Lances of the Free?
+
+     4.
+
+     Ho, ye who seek to win a name,
+     Where deeds are bravest done--
+     Ho, ye who wish to pile a heap,
+     Where gold is lightest won;
+     Ho, ye who loathe the stagnant life,
+     Or shun the law’s decree,
+     Belt on the brand, and spur the steed,
+     To Montreal’s Companie.
+     And the maid shall share her rest,
+     And the miser share his chest,
+     With the Lances of the Free!
+     The Free!
+     The Free!
+     Oh! the Lances of the Free!
+
+Then suddenly, as if inspired to a wilder flight by his own minstrelsy,
+the jongleur, sweeping his hand over the chords, broke forth into an
+air admirably expressive of the picture which his words, running into a
+rude, but lively and stirring doggerel, attempted to paint.
+
+The March of the Grand Company.
+
+     Tira, tirala--trumpet and drum--
+     Rising bright o’er the height of the mountain they come!
+     German, and Hun, and the Islandrie,
+     Who routed the Frenchman at famed Cressie,
+     When the rose changed its hue with the fleur-de-lis;
+     With the Roman, and Lombard, and Piedmontese,
+     And the dark-haired son of the southern seas.
+     Tira, tirala--more near and near
+     Down the steep--see them sweep;--rank by rank they appear!
+     With the Cloud of the Crowd hanging dark at their rear--
+     Serried, and steadied, and orderlie,
+     Like the course--like the force--of a marching sea!
+     Open your gates, and out with your gold,
+     For the blood must be spilt, or the ransom be told!
+     Woe, Burghers, woe!  Behold them led
+     By the stoutest arm and the wisest head,
+     With the snow-white cross on the cloth of red;--
+     With the eagle eye, and the lion port,
+     His barb for a throne, and his camp for a court:
+     Sovereign and scourge of the land is he--
+     The kingly Knight of the Companie!
+     Hurrah--hurrah--hurrah!
+     Hurrah for the army--hurrah for its lord--
+     Hurrah for the gold that is got by the sword--
+     Hurrah--hurrah--hurrah!
+     For the Lances of the Free!
+
+Shouted by the full chorus of those desperate boon-companions, and
+caught up and re-echoed from side to side, near and far, as the familiar
+and well-known words of the burthen reached the ears of more distant
+groups or stragglers, the effect of this fierce and licentious
+minstrelsy was indescribable. It was impossible not to feel the zest
+which that daring life imparted to its daring followers, and even the
+gallant and stately Knight who listened to it, reproved himself for an
+involuntary thrill of sympathy and pleasure.
+
+He turned with some impatience and irritation to his companion, who had
+taken a part in the chorus, and said, “Sir, to the ears of an Italian
+noble, conscious of the miseries of his country, this ditty is not
+welcome. I pray you, let us proceed.”
+
+“I humbly crave your pardon, Signor,” said the Free Companion; “but
+really so attractive is the life led by Free Lances, under Fra Moreale,
+that sometimes we forget the--; but pardon me--we will on.”
+
+A few moments more, and bounding over a narrow circumvallation, the
+party found themselves in a quarter, animated indeed, but of a wholly
+different character of animation. Long lines of armed men were drawn up
+on either side of a path, conducting to a large marquee, placed upon
+a little hillock, surmounted by a blue flag, and up this path armed
+soldiers were passing to and fro with great order, but with a pleased
+and complacent expression upon their swarthy features. Some that
+repaired to the marquee were bearing packets and bales upon their
+shoulders--those that returned seemed to have got rid of their burthens,
+but every now and then, impatiently opening their hands, appeared
+counting and recounting to themselves the coins contained therein.
+
+The Knight looked inquiringly at his companion.
+
+“It is the marquee of the merchants,” said the captain; “they have
+free admission to the camp, and their property and persons are rigidly
+respected. They purchase each soldier’s share of the plunder at fair
+prices, and either party is contented with the bargain.”
+
+“It seems, then, that there is some kind of rude justice observed
+amongst you,” said the Knight.
+
+“Rude! Diavolo! Not a town in Italy but would be glad of such even
+justice, and such impartial laws. Yonder lie the tents of the judges,
+appointed to try all offences of soldier against soldier. To the right,
+the tent with the golden ball contains the treasurer of the army. Fra
+Moreale incurs no arrears with his soldiery.”
+
+It was, indeed, by these means that the Knight of St. John had collected
+the best equipped and the best contented force in Italy. Every day
+brought him recruits. Nothing was spoken of amongst the mercenaries of
+Italy but the wealth acquired in his service, and every warrior in the
+pay of Republic or of Tyrant sighed for the lawless standard of Fra
+Moreale. Already had exaggerated tales of the fortunes to be made in the
+ranks of the Great Company passed the Alps; and, even now, the Knight,
+penetrating farther into the camp, beheld from many a tent the proud
+banners and armorial blazon of German nobility and Gallic knighthood.
+
+“You see,” said the Free Companion, pointing to these insignia, “we are
+not without our different ranks in our wild city. And while we speak,
+many a golden spur is speeding hitherward from the North!”
+
+All now in the quarter they had entered was still and solemn; only afar
+came the mingled hum, or the sudden shout of the pandemonium in the
+rear, mellowed by distance to a not unpleasing sound. An occasional
+soldier, crossing their path, stalked silently and stealthily to some
+neighbouring tent, and seemed scarcely to regard their approach.
+
+“Behold! we are before the General’s pavilion,” said the Free Lance.
+
+Blazoned with purple and gold, the tent of Montreal lay a little apart
+from the rest. A brooklet from the stream they had crossed murmured
+gratefully on the ear, and a tall and wide-spreading beech cast its
+shadow over the gorgeous canvass.
+
+While his troop waited without, the knight was conducted at once to the
+presence of the formidable adventurer.
+
+
+
+Chapter 8.II. Adrian Once More the Guest of Montreal.
+
+Montreal was sitting at the head of a table, surrounded by men, some
+military, some civil, whom he called his councillors, and with whom
+he apparently debated all his projects. These men, drawn from various
+cities, were intimately acquainted with the internal affairs of the
+several states to which they belonged. They could tell to a fraction
+the force of a signor, the wealth of a merchant, the power of a mob. And
+thus, in his lawless camp, Montreal presided, not more as a general than
+a statesman. Such knowledge was invaluable to the chief of the Great
+Company. It enabled him to calculate exactly the time to attack a foe,
+and the sum to demand for a suppression of hostilities. He knew what
+parties to deal with--where to importune--where to forbear. And it
+usually happened that, by some secret intrigue, the appearance of
+Montreal’s banner before the walls of a city was the signal for some
+sedition or some broil within. It may be that he thus also promoted an
+ulterior, as well as his present, policy.
+
+The divan were in full consultation when an officer entered, and
+whispered a few words in Montreal’s ear. His eyes brightened. “Admit
+him,” he said hastily. “Messires,” he added to his councillors, rubbing
+his hands, “I think our net has caught our bird. Let us see.”
+
+At this moment the drapery was lifted and the Knight admitted.
+
+“How!” muttered Montreal, changing colour, and in evident
+disappointment. “Am I to be ever thus balked?”
+
+“Sir Walter de Montreal,” said the prisoner, “I am once more your guest.
+In these altered features you perhaps scarcely recognise Adrian di
+Castello.”
+
+“Pardon me, noble Signor,” said Montreal, rising with great courtesy;
+“the mistake of my varlets disturbed my recollection for a moment.--I
+rejoice once more to press a hand that has won so many laurels since
+last we parted. Your renown has been grateful to my ears. Ho!” continued
+the chieftain, clapping his hands, “see to the refreshment and repose
+of this noble Cavalier and his attendants. Lord Adrian, I will join you
+presently.”
+
+Adrian withdrew. Montreal, forgetful of his councillors, traversed his
+tent with hasty strides; then summoning the officer who had admitted
+Adrian, he said, “Count Landau still keeps the pass?”
+
+“Yes, General!”
+
+“Hie thee fast back, then--the ambuscade must tarry till nightfall. We
+have trapped the wrong fox.”
+
+The officer departed, and shortly afterwards Montreal broke up the
+divan. He sought Adrian, who was lodged in a tent beside his own.
+
+“My Lord,” said Montreal, “it is true that my men had orders to stop
+every one on the roads towards Florence. I am at war with that city. Yet
+I expected a very different prisoner from you. Need I add, that you and
+your men are free?”
+
+“I accept the courtesy, noble Montreal, as frankly as it is rendered.
+May I hope hereafter to repay it? Meanwhile permit me, without any
+disrespect, to say that had I learned the Grand Company was in this
+direction, I should have altered my course. I had heard that your arms
+were bent (somewhat to my mind more nobly) against Malatesta, the tyrant
+of Rimini!”
+
+“They were so. He was my foe; he is my tributary. We conquered him. He
+paid us the price of his liberty. We marched by Asciano upon Sienna.
+For sixteen thousand florins we spared that city; and we now hang like
+a thunderbolt over Florence, which dared to send her puny aid to the
+defence of Rimini. Our marches are forced and rapid and our camp in this
+plain but just pitched.”
+
+“I hear that the Grand Company is allied with Albornoz, and that its
+General is secretly the soldier of the Church. Is it so?”
+
+“Ay--Albornoz and I understand one another,” replied Montreal,
+carelessly; “and not the less so that we have a mutual foe; whom both
+are sworn to crush, in Visconti, the archbishop of Milan.”
+
+“Visconti! the most potent of the Italian princes. That he has justly
+incurred the wrath of the Church I know--and I can readily understand
+that Innocent has revoked the pardon which the intrigues of the
+Archbishop purchased from Clement VI. But I do not see clearly why
+Montreal should willingly provoke so dark and terrible a foe.”
+
+Montreal smiled sternly. “Know you not,” he said, “the vast ambition of
+that Visconti? By the Holy Sepulchre, he is precisely the enemy my soul
+leaps to meet! He has a genius worthy to cope with Montreal’s. I have
+made myself master of his secret plans--they are gigantic! In a word,
+the Archbishop designs the conquest of all Italy. His enormous wealth
+purchases the corrupt--his dark sagacity ensnares the credulous--his
+daring valour awes the weak. Every enemy he humbles--every ally he
+enslaves. This is precisely the Prince whose progress Walter de Montreal
+must arrest. For this (he said in a whisper as to himself) is precisely
+the Prince who, if suffered to extend his power, will frustrate the
+plans and break the force of Walter de Montreal.”
+
+Adrian was silent, and for the first time a suspicion of the real nature
+of the Provencal’s designs crossed his breast.
+
+“But, noble Montreal,” resumed the Colonna, “give me, if your knowledge
+serves, as no doubt it does,--give me the latest tidings of my native
+city. I am Roman, and Rome is ever in my thoughts.”
+
+“And well she may,” replied Montreal, quickly. “Thou knowest that
+Albornoz, as Legate of the Pontiff, led the army of the Church into the
+Papal Territories. He took with him Cola di Rienzi. Arrived at Monte
+Fiascone, crowds of Romans of all ranks hastened thither to render
+homage to the Tribune. The Legate was forgotten in the popularity of
+his companion. Whether or not Albornoz grew jealous--for he is proud as
+Lucifer--of the respect paid to the Tribune, or whether he feared the
+restoration of his power, I cannot tell. But he detained him in his
+camp, and refused to yield him to all the solicitations and all the
+deputations of the Romans. Artfully, however, he fulfilled one of the
+real objects of Rienzi’s release. Through his means he formally regained
+the allegiance of Rome to the Church, and by the attraction of his
+presence swelled his camp with Roman recruits. Marching to Viterbo,
+Rienzi distinguished himself greatly in deeds of arms against the tyrant
+(“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”.) John di Vico. Nay, he fought as one worthy
+of belonging to the Grand Company. This increased the zeal of the
+Romans; and the city disgorged half its inhabitants to attend the person
+of the bold Tribune. To the entreaties of these worthy citizens (perhaps
+the very men who had before shut up their darling in St. Angelo) the
+crafty Legate merely replied, ‘Arm against John di Vico--conquer the
+tyrants of the Territory--re-establish the patrimony of St. Peter, and
+Rienzi shall then be proclaimed Senator, and return to Rome.’
+
+“These words inspired the Romans with so great a zeal, that they
+willingly lent their aid to the Legate. Aquapendente, Bolzena yielded,
+John di Vico was half reduced and half terrified into submission, and
+Gabrielli, the tyrant of Agobbio, has since succumbed. The glory is to
+the Cardinal, but the merit with Rienzi.”
+
+“And now?”
+
+“Albornoz continued to entertain the Senator-Tribune with great
+splendour and fair words, but not a word about restoring him to Rome.
+Wearied with this suspense, I have learned by secret intelligence that
+Rienzi has left the camp, and betaken himself with few attendants to
+Florence, where he has friends, who will provide him with arms and money
+to enter Rome.”
+
+“Ah then! now I guess,” said Adrian, with a half smile, “for whom I was
+mistaken!”
+
+Montreal blushed slightly. “Fairly conjectured!” said he.
+
+“Meanwhile, at Rome,” continued the Provencal--“at Rome, your worthy
+House, and that of the Orsini, being elected to the supreme power,
+quarrelled among themselves, and could not keep the authority they had
+won. Francesco Baroncelli, (This Baroncelli, who has been introduced to
+the reader in a former portion of this work, is called by Matteo Villani
+“a man of vile birth and little learning--he had been a Notary of the
+Capitol.” In the midst of the armed dissensions between the Barons,
+which followed the expulsion of Rienzi, Baroncelli contrived to make
+himself Master of the Capitol, and of what was considered an auxiliary
+of no common importance--viz. the Great Bell, by whose alarum Rienzi
+had so often summoned to arms the Roman people. Baroncelli was crowned
+Tribune, clothed in a robe of gold brocade, and invested with the
+crozier-sceptre of Rienzi. At first, his cruelty against the great took
+the appearance of protection to the humble; but the excesses of his sons
+(not exaggerated in the text), and his own brutal but bold ferocity,
+soon made him execrated by the people, to whom he owed his elevation. He
+had the folly to declare against the Pope; and this it really was that
+mainly induced Innocent to restore, and oppose to their New Demagogue,
+the former and more illustrious Tribune. Baroncelli, like Rienzi, was
+excommunicated; and in his instance, also, the curse of the Church
+was the immediate cause of his downfall. In attempting flight he was
+massacred by the mob, December, 1353. Some, however, have maintained
+that he was slain in combat with Rienzi; and others, by a confusion
+of dates, have made him succeed to Rienzi on the death of the
+latter.--Matteo Villani, lib. iii. cap. 78. Osservaz. Stor. di Zefirino
+Re. MS. Vat. Rip. dal Bzovio, ann. 1353. N. 2.) a new demagogue, a
+humble imitator of Rienzi, rose upon the ruins of the peace broken by
+the nobles, obtained the title of Tribune, and carried about the very
+insignia used by his predecessor. But less wise than Rienzi, he took
+the antipapal party. And the Legate was thus enabled to play the papal
+demagogue against the usurper. Baroncelli was a weak man, his sons
+committed every excess in mimicry of the highborn tyrants of Padua and
+Milan. Virgins violated and matrons dishonoured, somewhat contrasted the
+solemn and majestic decorum of Rienzi’s rule;--in fine, Baroncelli fell
+massacred by the people. And now, if you ask what rules Rome, I answer,
+‘It is the hope of Rienzi.’”
+
+“A strange man, and various fortunes. What will be the end of both!”
+
+“Swift murder to the first, and eternal fame to the last,” answered
+Montreal, calmly. “Rienzi will be restored; that brave phoenix will wing
+its way through storm and cloud to its own funereal pyre: I foresee, I
+compassionate, I admire.--And then,” added Montreal, “I look beyond!”
+
+“But wherefore feel you so certain that, if restored, Rienzi must fall?”
+
+“Is it not clear to every eye, save his, whom ambition blinds? How can
+mortal genius, however great, rule that most depraved people by popular
+means? The Barons--(you know their indomitable ferocity)--wedded to
+abuse, and loathing every semblance to law; the Barons, humbled for
+a moment, will watch their occasion, and rise. The people will again
+desert. Or else, grown wise in one respect by experience, the new
+Senator will see that popular favour has a loud voice, but a recreant
+arm. He will, like the Barons, surround himself by foreign swords. A
+detachment from the Grand Company will be his courtiers; they will be
+his masters! To pay them the people must be taxed. Then the idol is
+execrated. No Italian hand can govern these hardy demons of the north;
+they will mutiny and fall away. A new demagogue will lead on the people,
+and Rienzi will be the victim. Mark my prophecy!”
+
+“And then the ‘beyond’ to which you look?”
+
+“Utter prostration of Rome, for new and long ages; God makes not two
+Rienzis; or,” said Montreal, proudly, “the infusion of a new life into
+the worn-out and diseased frame,--the foundation of a new dynasty.
+Verily, when I look around me, I believe that the Ruler of nations
+designs the restoration of the South by the irruptions of the North; and
+that out of the old Franc and Germanic race will be built up the thrones
+of the future world!”
+
+As Montreal thus spoke, leaning on his great war-sword, with his fair
+and heroic features--so different, in their frank, bold, fearless
+expression, from the dark and wily intellect that characterises
+the lineaments of the South--eloquent at once with enthusiasm and
+thought--he might have seemed no unfitting representative of the genius
+of that northern chivalry of which he spake. And Adrian half fancied
+that he saw before him one of the old Gothic scourges of the Western
+World.
+
+Their conversation was here interrupted by the sound of a trumpet, and
+presently an officer entering, announced the arrival of ambassadors from
+Florence.
+
+“Again you must pardon me, noble Adrian,” said Montreal, “and let me
+claim you as my guest at least for tonight. Here you may rest secure,
+and on parting, my men shall attend you to the frontiers of whatsoever
+territory you design to visit.”
+
+Adrian, not sorry to see more of a man so celebrated, accepted the
+invitation.
+
+Left alone, he leaned his head upon his hand, and soon became lost in
+his reflections.
+
+
+
+Chapter 8.III. Faithful and Ill-fated Love.--The Aspirations Survive the
+Affections.
+
+Since that fearful hour in which Adrian Colonna had gazed upon the
+lifeless form of his adored Irene, the young Roman had undergone the
+usual vicissitudes of a wandering and adventurous life in those exciting
+times. His country seemed no longer dear to him. His very rank precluded
+him from the post he once aspired to take in restoring the liberties of
+Rome; and he felt that if ever such a revolution could be consummated,
+it was reserved for one in whose birth and habits the people could
+feel sympathy and kindred, and who could lift his hand in their behalf
+without becoming the apostate of his order and the judge of his own
+House. He had travelled through various courts, and served with renown
+in various fields. Beloved and honoured wheresoever he fixed a temporary
+home, no change of scene had removed his melancholy--no new ties had
+chased away the memory of the Lost. In that era of passionate and
+poetical romance, which Petrarch represented rather than created, Love
+had already begun to assume a more tender and sacred character than it
+had hitherto known, it had gradually imbibed the divine spirit which
+it derives from Christianity, and which associates its sorrows on
+earth with the visions and hopes of heaven. To him who relies upon
+immortality, fidelity to the dead is easy; because death cannot
+extinguish hope, and the soul of the mourner is already half in the
+world to come. It is an age that desponds of a future life--representing
+death as an eternal separation--in which, if men grieve awhile for the
+dead, they hasten to reconcile themselves to the living. For true is the
+old aphorism, that love exists not without hope. And all that romantic
+worship which the Hermit of Vaucluse felt, or feigned, for Laura, found
+its temple in the desolate heart of Adrian Colonna. He was emphatically
+the Lover of his time! Often as, in his pilgrimage from land to land,
+he passed the walls of some quiet and lonely convent, he seriously
+meditated the solemn vows, and internally resolved that the cloister
+should receive his maturer age. The absence of years had, however,
+in some degree restored the dimmed and shattered affection for his
+fatherland, and he desired once more to visit the city in which he had
+first beheld Irene. “Perhaps,” he thought, “time may have wrought some
+unlooked-for change; and I may yet assist to restore my country.”
+
+But with this lingering patriotism no ambition was mingled. In that
+heated stage of action, in which the desire of power seemed to stir
+through every breast, and Italy had become the El Dorado of wealth, or
+the Utopia of empire, to thousands of valiant arms and plotting minds,
+there was at least one breast that felt the true philosophy of the
+Hermit. Adrian’s nature, though gallant and masculine, was singularly
+imbued with that elegance of temperament which recoils from rude
+contact, and to which a lettered and cultivated indolence is the
+supremest luxury. His education, his experience, and his intellect, had
+placed him far in advance of his age, and he looked with a high contempt
+on the coarse villanies and base tricks by which Italian ambition
+sought its road to power. The rise and fall of Rienzi, who, whatever his
+failings, was at least the purest and most honourable of the self-raised
+princes of the age, had conspired to make him despond of the success of
+noble, as he recoiled from that of selfish aspirations. And the dreamy
+melancholy which resulted from his ill-starred love, yet more tended
+to wean him from the stale and hackneyed pursuits of the world. His
+character was full of beauty and of poetry--not the less so in that it
+found not a vent for its emotions in the actual occupation of the poet!
+Pent within, those emotions diffused themselves over all his thoughts
+and coloured his whole soul. Sometimes, in the blessed abstraction of
+his visions, he pictured to himself the lot he might have chosen had
+Irene lived, and fate united them--far from the turbulent and vulgar
+roar of Rome--but amidst some yet unpolluted solitude of the bright
+Italian soil. Before his eye there rose the lovely landscape--the palace
+by the borders of the waveless lake--the vineyards in the valley--the
+dark forests waving from the hill--and that home, the resort and refuge
+of all the minstrelsy and love of Italy, brightened by the “Lampeggiar
+dell’ angelico riso,” that makes a paradise in the face we love. Often,
+seduced by such dreams to complete oblivion of his loss, the young
+wanderer started from the ideal bliss, to behold around him the solitary
+waste of way--or the moonlit tents of war--or, worse than all, the
+crowds and revels of a foreign court.
+
+Whether or not such fancies now, for a moment, allured his meditations,
+conjured up, perhaps, by the name of Irene’s brother, which never
+sounded in his ears but to awaken ten thousand associations, the Colonna
+remained thoughtful and absorbed, until he was disturbed by his own
+squire, who, accompanied by Montreal’s servitors, ushered in
+his solitary but ample repast. Flasks of the richest Florentine
+wines--viands prepared with all the art which, alas, Italy has now
+lost!--goblets and salvers of gold and silver, prodigally wrought with
+barbaric gems--attested the princely luxury which reigned in the camp
+of the Grand Company. But Adrian saw in all only the spoliation of his
+degraded country, and felt the splendour almost as an insult. His lonely
+meal soon concluded, he became impatient of the monotony of his tent;
+and, tempted by the cool air of the descending eve, sauntered carelessly
+forth. He bent his steps by the side of the brooklet that curved,
+snakelike and sparkling, by Montreal’s tent; and finding a spot somewhat
+solitary and apart from the warlike tenements around, flung himself by
+the margin of the stream.
+
+The last rays of the sun quivered on the wave that danced musically over
+its stony bed; and amidst a little copse on the opposite bank broke the
+brief and momentary song of such of the bolder habitants of that purple
+air as the din of the camp had not scared from their green retreat. The
+clouds lay motionless to the west, in that sky so darkly and intensely
+blue, never seen but over the landscapes that a Claude or a Rosa loved
+to paint; and dim and delicious rose-hues gathered over the grey peaks
+of the distant Apennines. From afar floated the hum of the camp, broken
+by the neigh of returning steeds; the blast of an occasional bugle; and,
+at regular intervals, by the armed tramp of the neighbouring sentry.
+And opposite to the left of the copse--upon a rising ground, matted
+with reeds, moss, and waving shrubs--were the ruins of some old Etruscan
+building, whose name had perished, whose very uses were unknown.
+
+The scene was so calm and lovely, as Adrian gazed upon it, that it was
+scarcely possible to imagine it at that very hour the haunt of fierce
+and banded robbers, among most of whom the very soul of man was
+embruted, and to all of whom murder or rapine made the habitual
+occupation of life.
+
+Still buried in his reveries, and carelessly dropping stones into the
+noisy rivulet, Adrian was aroused by the sound of steps.
+
+“A fair spot to listen to the lute and the ballads of Provence,” said
+the voice of Montreal, as the Knight of St. John threw himself on the
+turf beside the young Colonna.
+
+“You retain, then, your ancient love of your national melodies,” said
+Adrian.
+
+“Ay, I have not yet survived all my youth,” answered Montreal, with a
+slight sigh. “But somehow or other, the strains that once pleased
+my fancy now go too directly to my heart. So, though I still welcome
+jongleur and minstrel, I bid them sing their newest conceits. I cannot
+wish ever again to hear the poetry I heard when I was young!”
+
+“Pardon me,” said Adrian, with great interest, “but fain would I have
+dared, though a secret apprehension prevented me hitherto,--fain would
+I have dared to question you of that lovely lady, with whom, seven
+years ago, we gazed at moonlight upon the odorous orange-groves and rosy
+waters of Terracina.”
+
+Montreal turned away his face; he laid his hand on Adrian’s arm, and
+murmured, in a deep and hoarse tone, “I am alone now!”
+
+Adrian pressed his hand in silence. He felt no light shock at thus
+learning the death of one so gentle, so lovely, and so ill-fated.
+
+“The vows of my knighthood,” continued Montreal, “which precluded
+Adeline the rights of wedlock--the shame of her house--the angry
+grief of her mother--the wild vicissitudes of my life, so exposed to
+peril--the loss of her son--all preyed silently on her frame. She did
+not die (die is too harsh a word!), but she drooped away, and glided
+into heaven. Even as on a summer’s morn some soft dream fleets across
+us, growing less and less distinct, until it fades, as it were, into
+light, and we awaken--so faded Adeline’s parting spirit, till the
+daylight of God broke upon it.”
+
+Montreal paused a moment, and then resumed: “These thoughts make the
+boldest of us weak sometimes, and we Provencals are foolish in these
+matters!--God wot, she was very dear to me!”
+
+The Knight bent down and crossed himself devoutly, his lips muttered a
+prayer. Strange as it may seem to our more enlightened age, so martial
+a garb did morality then wear, that this man, at whose word towns had
+blazed and torrents of blood had flowed, neither adjudged himself, nor
+was adjudged by the majority of his contemporaries, a criminal. His
+order, half monastic, half warlike, was emblematic of himself.
+He trampled upon man, yet humbled himself to God; nor had all his
+acquaintance with the refining scepticism of Italy shaken the sturdy and
+simple faith of the bold Provencal. So far from recognising any want
+of harmony between his calling and his creed, he held that man no true
+chevalier who was not as devout to the Cross as relentless with the
+sword.
+
+“And you have no child save the one you lost?” asked Adrian, when he
+observed the wonted composure of Montreal once more returning.
+
+“None!” said Montreal, as his brow again darkened. “No love-begotten
+heir of mine will succeed to the fortunes I trust yet to build. Never
+on earth shall I see upon the face of her child the likeness of Adeline!
+Yet, at Avignon, I saw a boy I would have claimed; for methought she
+must have looked her soul into his eyes, they were so like hers! Well,
+well! The Provence tree hath other branches; and some unborn nephew must
+be--what? The stars have not yet decided! But ambition is now the only
+thing in the world left me to love.”
+
+“So differently operates the same misfortune upon different characters,”
+ thought the Colonna. “To me, crowns became valueless when I could no
+longer dream of placing them on Irene’s brow!”
+
+The similarity of their fates, however, attracted Adrian strongly
+towards his host; and the two Knights conversed together with more
+friendship and unreserve than they had hitherto done. At length Montreal
+said, “By the way, I have not inquired your destination.”
+
+“I am bound to Rome,” said Adrian; “and the intelligence I have learned
+from you incites me thitherward yet more eagerly. If Rienzi return, I
+may mediate successfully, perchance, between the Tribune-Senator and the
+nobles; and if I find my cousin, young Stefanello, now the head of
+our house, more tractable than his sires, I shall not despair of
+conciliating the less powerful Barons. Rome wants repose; and whoever
+governs, if he govern but with justice, ought to be supported both by
+prince and plebeian!”
+
+Montreal listened with great attention, and then muttered to himself,
+“No, it cannot be!” He mused a little while, shading his brow with his
+hand, before he said aloud, “To Rome you are bound. Well, we shall meet
+soon amidst its ruins. Know, by the way, that my object here is already
+won: these Florentine merchants have acceded to my terms; they have
+purchased a two years’ peace; tomorrow the camp breaks up, and the
+Grand Company march to Lombardy. There, if my schemes prosper, and
+the Venetians pay my price, I league the rascals (under Landau, my
+Lieutenant) with the Sea-City, in defiance of the Visconti, and shall
+pass my autumn in peace amidst the pomps of Rome.”
+
+“Sir Walter de Montreal,” said Adrian, “your frankness perhaps makes
+me presumptuous; but when I hear you talk, like a huxtering trader, of
+selling alike your friendship and your forbearance, I ask myself, ‘Is
+this the great Knight of St. John; and have men spoken of him fairly,
+when they assert the sole stain on his laurels to be his avarice?”
+
+Montreal bit his lip; nevertheless, he answered calmly, “My frankness
+has brought its own penance, Lord Adrian. However, I cannot wholly leave
+so honoured a guest under an impression which I feel to be plausible,
+but not just. No, brave Colonna; report wrongs me. I value Gold,
+for Gold is the Architect of Power! It fills the camp--it storms the
+city--it buys the marketplace--it raises the palace--it founds the
+throne. I value Gold,--it is the means necessary to my end!”
+
+“And that end--”
+
+“Is--no matter what,” said the Knight coldly. “Let us to our tents, the
+dews fall heavily, and the malaria floats over these houseless wastes.”
+
+The pair rose;--yet, fascinated by the beauty of the hour, they lingered
+for a moment by the brook. The earliest stars shone over its crisping
+wavelets, and a delicious breeze murmured gently amidst the glossy
+herbage.
+
+“Thus gazing,” said Montreal, softly, “we reverse the old Medusan fable
+the poets tell us of, and look and muse ourselves out of stone. A little
+while, and it was the sunlight that gilded the wave--it now shines as
+brightly and glides as gaily beneath the stars; even so rolls the stream
+of time: one luminary succeeds the other equally welcomed--equally
+illumining--equally evanescent!--You see, the poetry of Provence still
+lives beneath my mail!”
+
+Adrian early sought his couch; but his own thoughts and the sounds of
+loud mirth that broke from Montreal’s tent, where the chief feasted the
+captains of his band, a revel from which he had the delicacy to excuse
+the Roman noble, kept the Colonna long awake; and he had scarcely fallen
+into an unquiet slumber, when yet more discordant sounds again invaded
+his repose. At the earliest dawn the wide armament was astir--the
+creaking of cordage--the tramp of men--loud orders and louder oaths--the
+slow rolling of baggage-wains--and the clank of the armourers, announced
+the removal of the camp, and the approaching departure of the Grand
+Company.
+
+Ere Adrian was yet attired, Montreal entered his tent.
+
+“I have appointed,” he said, “five score lances under a trusty leader,
+to accompany you, noble Adrian, to the borders of Romagna; they wait
+your leisure. In another hour I depart; the on-guard are already in
+motion.”
+
+Adrian would fain have declined the proffered escort; but he saw that
+it would only offend the pride of the chief, who soon retired. Hastily
+Adrian endued his arms--the air of the fresh morning, and the glad
+sun rising gorgeously from the hills, revived his wearied spirit. He
+repaired to Montreal’s tent, and found him alone, with the implements of
+writing before him, and a triumphant smile upon his countenance.
+
+“Fortune showers new favours on me!” he said, gaily. “Yesterday the
+Florentines spared me the trouble of a siege: and today (even since I
+last saw you--a few minutes since) puts your new Senator of Rome into my
+power.”
+
+“How! Have your bands then arrested Rienzi?”
+
+“Not so--better still! The Tribune changed his plan, and repaired to
+Perugia, where my brothers now abide--sought them--they have supplied
+him with money and soldiers enough to brave the perils of the way, and
+to defy the swords of the Barons. So writes my good brother Arimbaldo, a
+man of letters, whom the Tribune thinks rightly he has decoyed with old
+tales of Roman greatness, and mighty promises of grateful advancement.
+You find me hastily expressing my content at the arrangement. My
+brothers themselves will accompany the Senator-Tribune to the walls of
+the Capitol.”
+
+“Still, I see not how this places Rienzi in your power.”
+
+“No! His soldiers are my creatures--his comrades my brothers--his
+creditor myself! Let him rule Rome then--the time soon comes when the
+Vice-Regent must yield to--”
+
+“The Chief of the Grand Company,” interrupted Adrian, with a shudder,
+which the bold Montreal was too engrossed with the unconcealed
+excitement of his own thoughts to notice. “No, Knight of Provence,
+basely have we succumbed to domestic tyrants: but never, I trust, will
+Romans be so vile as to wear the yoke of a foreign usurper.”
+
+Montreal looked hard at Adrian, and smiled sternly.
+
+“You mistake me,” said he; “and it will be time enough for you to play
+the Brutus when I assume the Caesar. Meanwhile we are but host and
+guest. Let us change the theme.”
+
+Nevertheless this, their latter conference, threw a chill over both
+during the short time the Knights remained together, and they parted
+with a formality which was ill-suited to their friendly intercourse of
+the night before. Montreal felt he had in cautiously revealed himself,
+but caution was no part of his character, whenever he found himself
+at the head of an army, and at the full tide of fortune; and at that
+moment, so confident was he of the success of his wildest schemes, that
+he recked little whom he offended, or whom alarmed.
+
+Slowly, with his strange and ferocious escort, Adrian renewed his way.
+Winding up a steep ascent that led from the plain,--when he reached
+the summit, the curve in the road shewed him the whole army on its
+march;--the gonfalons waving--the armour flashing in the sun, line after
+line, like a river of steel, and the whole plain bristling with the
+array of that moving war;--while the solemn tread of the armed thousands
+fell subdued and stifled at times by martial and exulting music. As they
+swept on, Adrian descried at length the stately and towering form of
+Montreal upon a black charger, distinguished even at that distance from
+the rest, not more by his gorgeous armour than his lofty stature. So
+swept he on in the pride of his array--in the flush of his hopes--the
+head of a mighty armament--the terror of Italy--the hero that was--the
+monarch that might be!
+
+
+
+
+BOOK IX. THE RETURN.
+
+     “Allora la sua venuta fu a Roma sentita; Romani si
+     apparecchiavano a riceverlo con letizia...furo fatti archi
+     trionfali,” &c. &c.--“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. ii. c.
+     17.
+
+     “Then the fame of his coming was felt at Rome; the Romans
+     made ready to receive him with gladness...triumphal arches
+     were erected,” &c., &c.--“Life of Cola di Rienzi”.
+
+
+
+Chapter 9.I. The Triumphal Entrance.
+
+All Rome was astir!--from St. Angelo to the Capitol, windows, balconies,
+roofs, were crowded with animated thousands. Only here and there, in the
+sullen quarters of the Colonna, the Orsini, and the Savelli, reigned a
+death-like solitude and a dreary gloom. In those fortifications, rather
+than streets, not even the accustomed tread of the barbarian sentinel
+was heard. The gates closed--the casements barred--the grim silence
+around--attested the absence of the Barons. They had left the city so
+soon as they had learned the certain approach of Rienzi. In the villages
+and castles of the Campagna, surrounded by their mercenaries, they
+awaited the hour when the people, weary of their idol, should welcome
+back even those ferocious Iconoclasts.
+
+With these exceptions, all Rome was astir! Triumphal arches of drapery,
+wrought with gold and silver, raised at every principal vista, were
+inscribed with mottoes of welcome and rejoicing. At frequent intervals
+stood youths and maidens, with baskets of flowers and laurels. High
+above the assembled multitudes--from the proud tower of Hadrian--from
+the turrets of the Capitol--from the spires of the sacred buildings
+dedicated to Apostle and to Saint--floated banners as for a victory.
+Rome once more opened her arms to receive her Tribune!
+
+Mingled with the crowd--disguised by his large mantle--hidden by the
+pressure of the throng--his person, indeed, forgotten by most--and, in
+the confusion of the moment, heeded by none--stood Adrian Colonna! He
+had not been able to conquer his interest for the brother of Irene.
+Solitary amidst his fellow-citizens, he stood--the only one of the proud
+race of Colonna who witnessed the triumph of the darling of the people.
+
+“They say he has grown large in his prison,” said one of the bystanders;
+“he was lean enough when he came by daybreak out of the Church of St.
+Angelo!”
+
+“Ay,” said another, a little man with a shrewd, restless eye, “they say
+truly; I saw him take leave of the Legate.”
+
+Every eye was turned to the last speaker; he became at once a personage
+of importance. “Yes,” continued the little man with an elated and
+pompous air, “as soon, d’ye see, as he had prevailed on Messere
+Brettone, and Messere Arimbaldo, the brothers of Fra Moreale, to
+accompany him from Perugia to Monte Fiascone, he went at once to the
+Legate d’Albornoz, who was standing in the open air conversing with his
+captains. A crowd followed. I was one of them; and the Tribune nodded
+at me--ay, that did he!--and so, with his scarlet cloak, and his scarlet
+cap, he faced the proud Cardinal with a pride greater than his own.
+‘Monsignore,’ said he, ‘though you accord me neither money nor arms, to
+meet the dangers of the road and brave the ambush of the Barons, I
+am prepared to depart. Senator of Rome, his Holiness hath made me:
+according to custom, I pray you, Monsignore, forthwith to confirm the
+rank.’ I would you could have seen how the proud Spaniard stared, and
+blushed, and frowned; but he bit his lip, and said little.”
+
+“And confirmed Rienzi Senator?”
+
+“Yes; and blessed him, and bade him depart.”
+
+“Senator!” said a stalwart but grey-haired giant with folded arms; “I
+like not a title that has been borne by a patrician. I fear me, in the
+new title he will forget the old.”
+
+“Fie, Cecco del Vecchio, you were always a grumbler!” said a merchant
+of cloth, whose commodity the ceremonial had put in great request.
+“Fie!--for my part, I think Senator a less new-fangled title than
+Tribune. I hope there will be feasting enow, at last. Rome has been long
+dull. A bad time for trade, I warrant me!”
+
+The artisan grinned scornfully. He was one of those who distinguished
+between the middle class and the working, and he loathed a merchant as
+much as he did a noble. “The day wears,” said the little man; “he must
+be here anon. The Senator’s lady, and all his train, have gone forth to
+meet him these two hours.”
+
+Scarce were these words uttered, when the crowd to the right swayed
+restlessly; and presently a horseman rode rapidly through the street.
+“Way there! Keep back! Way--make way for the Most Illustrious the
+Senator of Rome!”
+
+The crowd became hushed--then murmuring--then hushed again. From balcony
+and casement stretched the neck of every gazer. The tramp of steeds was
+heard at a distance--the sound of clarion and trumpet;--then, gleaming
+through the distant curve of the streets, was seen the wave of the
+gonfalons--then, the glitter of spears--and then from the whole
+multitude, as from one voice, arose the shout,--“He comes! he comes!”
+
+Adrian shrunk yet more backward amongst the throng; and, leaning against
+the wall of one of the houses, contemplated the approaching pageant.
+
+First came, six abreast, the procession of Roman horsemen who had gone
+forth to meet the Senator, bearing boughs of olive in their hands; each
+hundred preceded by banners, inscribed with the words, “Liberty and
+Peace restored.” As these passed the group by Adrian, each more popular
+citizen of the cavalcade was recognised, and received with loud shouts.
+By the garb and equipment of the horsemen, Adrian saw that they belonged
+chiefly to the traders of Rome; a race who, he well knew, unless
+strangely altered, valued liberty only as a commercial speculation. “A
+vain support these,” thought the Colonna;--“what next?” on, then, came
+in glittering armour the German mercenaries, hired by the gold of the
+Brothers of Provence, in number two hundred and fifty, and previously
+in the pay of Malatesta of Rimini;--tall, stern, sedate,
+disciplined,--eyeing the crowd with a look, half of barbarian wonder,
+half of insolent disdain. No shout of gratulation welcomed these sturdy
+strangers; it was evident that their aspect cast a chill over the
+assembly.
+
+“Shame!” growled Cecco del Vecchio, audibly. “Has the people’s friend
+need of the swords which guard an Orsini or a Malatesta?--shame!”
+
+No voice this time silenced the huge malcontent.
+
+“His only real defence against the Barons,” thought Adrian, “if he pay
+them well! But their number is not sufficient!”
+
+Next came two hundred fantassins, or foot-soldiers, of Tuscany, with the
+corselets and arms of the heavy-armed soldiery--a gallant company, and
+whose cheerful looks and familiar bearing appeared to sympathise
+with the crowd. And in truth they did so,--for they were Tuscans,
+and therefore lovers of freedom. In them, too, the Romans seemed to
+recognise natural and legitimate allies,--and there was a general cry of
+“Vivano i bravi Toscani!”
+
+“Poor defence!” thought the more sagacious Colonna; “the Barons can awe,
+and the mob corrupt them.”
+
+Next came a file of trumpeters and standard-bearers;--and now the sound
+of the music was drowned by shouts, which seemed to rise simultaneously
+as from every quarter of the city;--“Rienzi! Rienzi!--Welcome,
+welcome!--Liberty and Rienzi! Rienzi and the Good Estate!” Flowers
+dropped on his path, kerchiefs and banners waved from every
+house;--tears might be seen coursing, unheeded, down bearded
+cheeks;--youth and age were kneeling together, with uplifted hands,
+invoking blessings on the head of the Restored. On he came the
+Senator-Tribune--“the Phoenix to his pyre!”
+
+Robed in scarlet, that literally blazed with gold, his proud head bared
+in the sun, and bending to the saddle bow, Rienzi passed slowly through
+the throng. Not in the flush of that hour were visible, on his glorious
+countenance, the signs of disease and care: the very enlargement of his
+proportions gave a greater majesty to his mien. Hope sparkled in his
+eye--triumph and empire sat upon his brow. The crowd could not contain
+themselves; they pressed forward, each upon each, anxious to catch the
+glance of his eye, to touch the hem of his robe. He himself was deeply
+affected by their joy. He halted; with faltering and broken words,
+he attempted to address them. “I am repaid,” he said,--“repaid for
+all;--may I live to make you happy!”
+
+The crowd parted again--the Senator moved on--again the crowd closed
+in. Behind the Tribune, to their excited imagination, seemed to move the
+very goddess of ancient Rome.
+
+Upon a steed, caparisoned with cloth of gold;--in snow-white robes,
+studded with gems that flashed back the day,--came the beautiful and
+regal Nina. The memory of her pride, her ostentation, all forgotten in
+that moment, she was scarce less welcome, scarce less idolized, than her
+lord. And her smile all radiant with joy--her lip quivering with proud
+and elate emotion,--never had she seemed at once so born alike for love
+and for command;--a Zenobia passing through the pomp of Rome,--not a
+captive, but a queen.
+
+But not upon that stately form riveted the gaze of Adrian--pale,
+breathless, trembling, he clung to the walls against which he leaned.
+Was it a dream? Had the dead revived? Or was it his own--his living
+Irene--whose soft and melancholy loveliness shone sadly by the side of
+Nina--a star beside the moon? The pageant faded from his eyes--all grew
+dim and dark. For a moment he was insensible. When he recovered, the
+crowd was hurrying along, confused and blent with the mighty stream
+that followed the procession. Through the moving multitude he caught the
+graceful form of Irene, again snatched by the closing standards of the
+procession from his view. His blood rushed back from his heart through
+every vein. He was as a man who for years had been in a fearful trance,
+and who is suddenly awakened to the light of heaven.
+
+One of that mighty throng remained motionless with Adrian. It was Cecco
+del Vecchio.
+
+“He did not see me,” muttered the smith to himself; “old friends are
+forgotten now! Well, well, Cecco del Vecchio hates tyrants still--no
+matter what their name, nor how smoothly they are disguised. He did not
+see ME! Umph!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 9.II. The Masquerade.
+
+The acuter reader has already learned, without the absolute intervention
+of the author as narrator, the incidents occurring to Rienzi in the
+interval between his acquittal at Avignon and his return to Rome. As the
+impression made by Nina upon the softer and better nature of Albornoz
+died away, he naturally began to consider his guest--as the profound
+politicians of that day ever considered men--a piece upon the great
+Chess-Board, to be moved, advanced, or sacrificed, as best suited
+the scheme in view. His purpose accomplished, in the recovery of the
+patrimonial territory, the submission of John di Vico, and the fall
+and death of the Demagogue Baroncelli, the Cardinal deemed it far from
+advisable to restore to Rome, and with so high a dignity, the able and
+ambitious Rienzi. Before the daring Roman, even his own great spirit
+quailed; and he was wholly unable to conceive or to calculate the policy
+that might be adopted by the new Senator, when once more Lord of
+Rome. Without affecting to detain, he therefore declined to assist in
+restoring him. And Rienzi thus saw himself within an easy march of Rome,
+without one soldier to protect him against the Barons by the way.
+But Heaven had decreed that no single man, however gifted, or however
+powerful, should long counteract or master the destinies of Rienzi: and
+perhaps in no more glittering scene of his life did he ever evince so
+dexterous and subtle an intellect as he now did in extricating himself
+from the wiles of the Cardinal. Repairing to Perugia, he had, as we have
+seen, procured, through the brothers of Montreal, men and money for his
+return. But the Knight of St. John was greatly mistaken, if he imagined
+that Rienzi was not thoroughly aware of the perilous and treacherous
+tenure of the support he had received. His keen eye read at a glance the
+aims and the characters of the brothers of Montreal--he knew that while
+affecting to serve him, they designed to control--that, made the debtor
+of the grasping and aspiring Montreal, and surrounded by the troops
+conducted by Montreal’s brethren, he was in the midst of a net which, if
+not broken, would soon involve fortune and life itself in its fatal and
+deadly meshes. But, confident in the resources and promptitude of his
+own genius, he yet sanguinely trusted to make those his puppets, who
+dreamed that he was their own; and, with empire for the stake, he cared
+not how crafty the antagonists he was compelled to engage.
+
+Meanwhile, uniting to all his rasher and all his nobler qualities, a
+profound dissimulation, he appeared to trust implicitly to his Provencal
+companions; and his first act on entering the Capitol, after the
+triumphal procession, was to reward with the highest dignities in his
+gift, Messere Arimbaldo and Messere Brettone de Montreal!
+
+High feasting was there that night in the halls of the Capitol; but
+dearer to Rienzi than all the pomp of the day, were the smiles of Nina.
+Her proud and admiring eyes, swimming with delicious tears, fixed upon
+his countenance, she but felt that they were re-united, and that the
+hours, however brilliantly illumined, were hastening to that moment,
+when, after so desolate and dark an absence, they might once more be
+alone.
+
+Far other the thoughts of Adrian Colonna, as he sate alone in the dreary
+palace in the yet more dreary quarter of his haughty race. Irene then
+was alive,--he had been deceived by some strange error,--she had escaped
+the devouring pestilence; and something in the pale sadness of her
+gentle features, even in that day of triumph, told him he was still
+remembered. But as his mind by degrees calmed itself from its first wild
+and tumultuous rapture, he could not help asking himself the question
+whether they were not still to be divided! Stefanello Colonna, the
+grandson of the old Stephen, and (by the death of his sire and brother)
+the youthful head of that powerful House, had already raised his
+standard against the Senator. Fortifying himself in the almost
+impregnable fastness of Palestrina, he had assembled around him all
+the retainers of his family, and his lawless soldiery now ravaged the
+neighbouring plains far and wide.
+
+Adrian foresaw that the lapse of a few days would suffice to bring the
+Colonna and the Senator to open war. Could he take part against those
+of his own blood? The very circumstance of his love for Irene would
+yet more rob such a proceeding of all appearance of disinterested
+patriotism, and yet more deeply and irremediably stain his knightly
+fame, wherever the sympathy of his equals was enlisted with the cause
+of the Colonna. On the other hand, not only his love for the Senator’s
+sister, but his own secret inclinations and honest convictions, were on
+the side of one who alone seemed to him possessed of the desire and the
+genius to repress the disorders of his fallen city. Long meditating, he
+feared no alternative was left him but in the same cruel neutrality to
+which he had been before condemned; but he resolved at least to make
+the attempt--rendered favourable and dignified by his birth and
+reputation--to reconcile the contending parties. To effect this, he saw
+that he must begin with his haughty cousin. He was well aware that were
+it known that he had first obtained an interview with Rienzi--did it
+appear as if he were charged with overtures from the Senator--although
+Stefanello himself might be inclined to yield to his representations,
+the insolent and ferocious Barons who surrounded him would not deign
+to listen to the envoy of the People’s chosen one; and instead of being
+honoured as an intercessor, he should be suspected as a traitor. He
+determined, then, to depart for Palestrina; but (and his heart beat
+audibly) would it not be possible first to obtain an interview with
+Irene? It was no easy enterprise, surrounded as she was, but he resolved
+to adventure it. He summoned Giulio.
+
+“The Senator holds a festival this evening--think you that the
+assemblage will be numerous?”
+
+“I hear,” answered Giulio, “that the banquet given to the Ambassadors
+and Signors today is to be followed tomorrow by a mask, to which all
+ranks are admitted. By Bacchus, (Still a common Roman expletive.) if the
+Tribune only invited nobles, the smallest closet in the Capitol would
+suffice to receive his maskers. I suppose a mask has been resolved on in
+order to disguise the quality of the visitors.”
+
+Adrian mused a moment; and the result of his revery was a determination
+to delay for another sun his departure to Palestrina--to take advantage
+of the nature of the revel, and to join the masquerade.
+
+That species of entertainment, though unusual at that season of the
+year, had been preferred by Rienzi, partly and ostensibly because it
+was one in which all his numerous and motley supporters could be best
+received; but chiefly and secretly because it afforded himself and his
+confidential friends the occasion to mix unsuspected amongst the throng,
+and learn more of the real anticipations of the Romans with respect
+to his policy and his strength, than could well be gathered from the
+enthusiasm of a public spectacle.
+
+The following night was beautifully serene and clear. The better to
+accommodate the numerous guests, and to take advantage of the warm and
+moonlit freshness of the air, the open court of the Capitol, with the
+Place of the Lion, (as well as the state apartments within,) was devoted
+to the festival.
+
+As Adrian entered the festive court with the rush of the throng, it
+chanced that in the eager impatience of some maskers, more vehement
+than the rest, his vizard was deranged. He hastily replaced it; but not
+before one of the guests had recognised his countenance.
+
+From courtesy, Rienzi and his family remained at first unmasked. They
+stood at the head of the stairs to which the old Egyptian Lion gave the
+name. The lights shone over that Colossal Monument--which, torn from its
+antique home, had witnessed, in its grim repose, the rise and lapse of
+countless generations, and the dark and stormy revolutions of avenging
+fate. It was an ill omen, often afterwards remarked, that the place of
+that state festival was the place also of the state executions. But at
+that moment, as group after group pressed forward to win smile and word
+from the celebrated man, whose fortunes had been the theme of Europe,
+or to bend in homage to the lustrous loveliness of Nina, no omen and no
+warning clouded the universal gladness.
+
+Behind Nina, well contented to shrink from the gaze of the throng, and
+to feel her softer beauty eclipsed by the dazzling and gorgeous charms
+of her brother’s wife, stood Irene. Amidst the crowd on her alone Adrian
+fixed his eyes. The years which had flown over the fair brow of the
+girl of sixteen--then animated by, yet trembling beneath, the first wild
+breath of Love;--youth in every vein--passion and childish tenderness
+in every thought, had not marred, but they had changed, the character
+of Irene’s beauty. Her cheek, no longer varying with every instant, was
+settled into a delicate and thoughtful paleness--her form, more rounded
+to the proportions of Roman beauty, had assumed an air of dignified and
+calm repose. No longer did the restless eye wander in search of some
+imagined object; no longer did the lip quiver into smiles at some untold
+hope or half-unconscious recollection. A grave and mournful expression
+gave to her face (still how sweet!) a gravity beyond her years. The
+bloom, the flush, the April of the heart, was gone; but yet neither
+time, nor sorrow, nor blighted love, had stolen from her countenance its
+rare and angelic softness--nor that inexpressible and virgin modesty of
+form and aspect, which, contrasting the bolder beauties of Italy, had
+more than aught else distinguished to Adrian, from all other women, the
+idol of his heart. And feeding his gaze upon those dark deep eyes, which
+spoke of thought far away and busy with the past, Adrian felt again and
+again that he was not forgotten! Hovering near her, but suffering the
+crowd to press one after another before him, he did not perceive that he
+had attracted the eagle eye of the Senator.
+
+In fact, as one of the maskers passed Rienzi, he whispered, “Beware,
+a Colonna is among the masks! beneath the reveller’s domino has often
+lurked the assassin’s dagger. Yonder stands your foe--mark him!”
+
+These words were the first sharp and thrilling intimation of the perils
+into which he had rushed, that the Tribune-Senator had received since
+his return. He changed colour slightly; and for some minutes the courtly
+smile and ready greeting with which he had hitherto delighted every
+guest, gave way to a moody abstraction.
+
+“Why stands yon strange man so mute and motionless?” whispered he to
+Nina. “He speaks to none--he approaches us not--a churl, a churl!--he
+must be seen to.”
+
+“Doubtless, some German or English barbarian,” answered Nina. “Let not,
+my Lord, so slight a cloud dim your merriment.”
+
+“You are right, dearest; we have friends here; we are well girt. And, by
+my father’s ashes, I feel that I must accustom myself to danger. Nina,
+let us move on; methinks we might now mix among the maskers--masked
+ourselves.”
+
+The music played loud and cheerily as the Senator and his party mingled
+with the throng. But still his eye turned ever towards the grey domino
+of Adrian, and he perceived that it followed his steps. Approaching the
+private entrance of the Capitol, he for a few moments lost sight of
+his unwelcome pursuer: but just as he entered, turning abruptly, Rienzi
+perceived him close at his side--the next moment the stranger had
+vanished amidst the throng. But that moment had sufficed to Adrian--he
+had reached Irene. “Adrian Colonna (he whispered) waits thee beside the
+Lion.”
+
+In the absorption of his own reflections, Rienzi fortunately did not
+notice the sudden paleness and agitation of his sister. Entered within
+his palace, he called for wine--the draught revived his spirits--he
+listened smilingly to the sparkling remarks of Nina; and enduing
+his mask and disguise, said, with his wonted cheerfulness, “Now for
+Truth--strange that in festivals it should only speak behind a vizard!
+My sweet sister, thou hast lost thine old smile, and I would rather see
+that than--Ha! has Irene vanished?”
+
+“Only, I suppose, to change her dress, my Cola, and mingle with the
+revellers,” answered Nina. “Let my smile atone for hers.”
+
+Rienzi kissed the bright brow of his wife as she clung fondly to his
+bosom. “Thy smile is the sunlight,” said he; “but this girl disturbs me.
+Methinks now, at least, she might wear a gladder aspect.”
+
+“Is there nothing of love beneath my fair sister’s gloom?” answered
+Nina. “Do you not call to mind how she loved Adrian Colonna?”
+
+“Does that fantasy hold still?” returned Rienzi, musingly. “Well, and
+she is fit bride for a monarch.”
+
+“Yet it were an alliance that would, better than one with monarchs,
+strengthen thy power at Rome!”
+
+“Ay, were it possible; but that haughty race!--Perchance this very
+masker that so haunted our steps was but her lover. I will look to this.
+Let us forth, my Nina. Am I well cloaked?”
+
+“Excellently well--and I?”
+
+“The sun behind a cloud.”
+
+“Ah, let us not tarry long; what hour of revel like that when thy hand
+in mine, this head upon thy bosom, we forget the sorrows we have known,
+and even the triumphs we have shared?”
+
+Meanwhile, Irene, confused and lost amidst a transport of emotion,
+already disguised and masked, was threading her way through the crowd
+back to the staircase of the Lion. With the absence of the Senator that
+spot had comparatively been deserted. Music and the dance attracted the
+maskers to another quarter of the wide space. And Irene now approaching,
+beheld the moonlight fall over the statue, and a solitary figure leaning
+against the pedestal. She paused, the figure approached, and again she
+heard the voice of her early love.
+
+“Oh, Irene! recognised even in this disguise,” said Adrian, seizing her
+trembling hand; “have I lived to gaze again upon that form--to touch
+this hand? Did not these eyes behold thee lifeless in that fearful
+vault, which I shudder to recall? By what miracle wert thou raised
+again? By what means did Heaven spare to this earth one that it seemed
+already to have placed amongst its angels?”
+
+“Was this, indeed, thy belief?” said Irene, falteringly, but with an
+accent eloquent of joy. “Thou didst not then willingly desert me? Unjust
+that I was, I wronged thy noble nature, and deemed that my brother’s
+fall, my humble lineage, thy brilliant fate, had made thee renounce
+Irene.”
+
+“Unjust indeed!” answered the lover. “But surely I saw thee amongst the
+dead!--thy cloak, with the silver stars--who else wore the arms of the
+Roman Tribune?”
+
+“Was it but the cloak then, which, dropped in the streets, was probably
+assumed by some more ill-fated victim; was it that sight alone, that
+made thee so soon despair? Ah! Adrian,” continued Irene, tenderly, but
+with reproach; “not even when I saw thee seemingly lifeless on the
+couch by which I had watched three days and nights, not even then did I
+despair!”
+
+“What, then, my vision did not deceive me! It was you who watched by my
+bed in that grim hour, whose love guarded, whose care preserved me! And
+I, wretch that I was!--”
+
+“Nay,” answered Irene, “your thought was natural. Heaven seemed to endow
+me with superhuman strength, whilst I was necessary to thee. But judge
+of my dismay. I left thee to seek the good friar who attended thee as
+thy leech; I returned, and found thee not. Heart-sick and terrified, I
+searched the desolate city in vain. Strong as I was while hope supported
+me, I sunk beneath fear.--And my brother found me senseless, and
+stretched on the ground, by the church of St. Mark.”
+
+“The church of St. Mark!--so foretold his dream!”
+
+“He had told me he had met thee; we searched for thee in vain; at length
+we heard that thou hadst left the city, and--and--I rejoiced, Adrian,
+but I repined!”
+
+For some minutes the young lovers surrendered themselves to the delight
+of reunion, while new explanations called forth new transports.
+
+“And now,” murmured Irene, “now that we have met--” she paused, and her
+mask concealed her blushes.
+
+“Now that we have met,” said Adrian, filling up the silence, “wouldst
+thou say further, ‘that we should not part?’ Trust me, dearest, that is
+the hope that animates my heart. It was but to enjoy these brief bright
+moments with thee, that I delayed my departure to Palestrina. Could
+I but hope to bring my young cousin into amity with thy brother, no
+barrier would prevent our union. Willingly I forget the past--the death
+of my unhappy kinsmen, (victims, it is true, to their own faults;)
+and, perhaps, amidst all the crowds that hailed his return, none more
+appreciated the great and lofty qualities of Cola di Rienzi, than did
+Adrian Colonna.”
+
+“If this be so,” said Irene, “let me hope the best; meanwhile, it is
+enough of comfort and of happiness to know, that we love each other as
+of old. Ah, Adrian, I am sadly changed; and often have I thought it
+a thing beyond my dreams, that thou shouldst see me again and love me
+still.”
+
+“Fairer art thou and lovelier than ever,” answered Adrian, passionately;
+“and time, which has ripened thy bloom, has but taught me more deeply to
+feel thy value. Farewell, Irene, I linger here no longer; thou wilt, I
+trust, hear soon of my success with my House, and ere the week be over I
+may return to claim thy hand in the face of day.”
+
+The lovers parted; Adrian lingered on the spot, and Irene hastened to
+bury her emotion and her raptures in her own chamber.
+
+As her form vanished, and the young Colonna slowly turned away, a tall
+mask strode abruptly towards him.
+
+“Thou art a Colonna,” it said, “and in the power of the Senator. Dost
+thou tremble?”
+
+“If I be a Colonna, rude masker,” answered Adrian, coldly, “thou
+shouldst know the old proverb, ‘He who stirs the column, shall rue the
+fall.’”
+
+The stranger laughed aloud, and then lifting his mask, Adrian saw that
+it was the Senator who stood before him.
+
+“My Lord Adrian di Castello,” said Rienzi, resuming all his gravity, “is
+it as friend or foe that you have honoured our revels this night?”
+
+“Senator of Rome,” answered Adrian, with equal stateliness, “I partake
+of no man’s hospitality but as a friend. A foe, at least to you, I trust
+never justly to be esteemed.”
+
+“I would,” rejoined Rienzi, “that I could apply to myself unreservedly
+that most flattering speech. Are these friendly feelings entertained
+towards me as the Governor of the Roman people, or as the brother of the
+woman who has listened to your vows?”
+
+Adrian, who when the Senator had unmasked had followed his example,
+felt at these words that his eye quailed beneath Rienzi’s. However, he
+recovered himself with the wonted readiness of an Italian, and replied
+laconically,
+
+“As both.”
+
+“Both!” echoed Rienzi. “Then, indeed, noble Adrian, you are welcome
+hither. And yet, methinks, if you conceived there was no cause for
+enmity between us, you would have wooed the sister of Cola di Rienzi
+in a guise more worthy of your birth; and, permit me to add, of that
+station which God, destiny, and my country, have accorded unto me. You
+dare not, young Colonna, meditate dishonour to the sister of the Senator
+of Rome. Highborn as you are, she is your equal.”
+
+“Were I the Emperor, whose simple knight I but am, your sister were my
+equal,” answered Adrian, warmly. “Rienzi, I grieve that I am discovered
+to you yet. I had trusted that, as a mediator between the Barons and
+yourself, I might first have won your confidence, and then claimed my
+reward. Know that with tomorrow’s dawn I depart for Palestrina, seeking
+to reconcile my young cousin to the choice of the People and the
+Pontiff. Various reasons, which I need not now detail, would have
+made me wish to undertake this heraldry of peace without previous
+communication with you. But since we have met, intrust me with any
+terms of conciliation, and I pledge you the right hand, not of a Roman
+noble--alas! the prisca fides has departed from that pledge!--but of a
+Knight of the Imperial Court, that I will not betray your confidence.”
+
+Rienzi, accustomed to read the human countenance, had kept his eyes
+intently fixed upon Adrian while he spoke; when the Colonna concluded,
+he pressed the proffered hand, and said, with that familiar and winning
+sweetness which at times was so peculiar to his manner,
+
+“I trust you, Adrian, from my soul. You were mine early friend in
+calmer, perchance happier, years. And never did river reflect the stars
+more clearly, than your heart then mirrored back the truth. I trust
+you!”
+
+While thus speaking, he had mechanically led back the Colonna to the
+statue of the Lion; there pausing, he resumed:
+
+“Know that I have this morning despatched my delegate to your cousin
+Stefanello. With all due courtesy, I have apprised him of my return to
+Rome, and invited hither his honoured presence. Forgetting all ancient
+feuds, mine own past exile, I have assured him, here, the station and
+dignity due to the head of the Colonna. All that I ask in return is
+obedience to the law. Years and reverses have abated my younger pride,
+and though I may yet preserve the sternness of the Judge, none shall
+hereafter complain of the insolence of the Tribune.”
+
+“I would,” answered Adrian, “that your mission to Stefanello had been
+delayed a day; I would fain have forestalled its purport. Howbeit, you
+increase my desire of departure, should I yet succeed in obtaining an
+honourable and peaceful reconciliation, it is not in disguise that I
+will woo your sister.”
+
+“And never did Colonna,” replied Rienzi, loftily, “bring to his House
+a maiden whose alliance more gratified ambition. I still see, as I have
+seen ever, in mine own projects, and mine own destinies, the chart of
+the new Roman Empire!”
+
+“Be not too sanguine yet, brave Rienzi,” replied Adrian, laying his hand
+on the Lion of Basalt: “bethink thee on how many scheming brains this
+dumb image of stone hath looked down from its pedestal--schemes of sand,
+and schemers of dust. Thou hast enough, at present, for the employ of
+all thine energy--not to extend thy power, but to preserve thyself. For,
+trust me, never stood human greatness on so wild and dark a precipice!”
+
+“Thou art honest,” said the Senator; “and these are the first words of
+doubt, and yet of sympathy, I have heard in Rome. But the People love
+me, the Barons have fled from Rome, the Pontiff approves, and the swords
+of the Northmen guard the avenues of the Capitol. But these are nought;
+in mine own honesty are my spear and buckler. Oh, never,” continued
+Rienzi, kindling with his enthusiasm, “never since the days of the old
+Republic, did Roman dream a purer and a brighter aspiration, than
+that which animates and supports me now. Peace restored--law
+established--art, letters, intellect, dawning upon the night of time;
+the Patricians, no longer bandits of rapine, but the guard of order;
+the People ennobled from a mob, brave to protect, enlightened to guide,
+themselves. Then, not by the violence of arms, but by the majesty of
+her moral power, shall the Mother of Nations claim the obedience of her
+children. Thus dreaming and thus hoping, shall I tremble or despond? No,
+Adrian Colonna, come weal or woe, I abide, unshrinking and unawed, by
+the chances of my doom!”
+
+So much did the manner and the tone of the Senator exalt his language,
+that even the sober sense of Adrian was enchanted and subdued. He kissed
+the hand he held, and said earnestly,
+
+“A doom that I will deem it my boast to share--a career that it will be
+my glory to smooth. If I succeed in my present mission--”
+
+“You are my brother!” said Rienzi.
+
+“If I fail?”
+
+“You may equally claim that alliance. You pause--you change colour.”
+
+“Can I desert my house?”
+
+“Young Lord,” said Rienzi, loftily, “say rather can you desert your
+country? If you doubt my honesty, if you fear my ambition, desist from
+your task, rob me not of a single foe. But if you believe that I have
+the will and the power to serve the State--if you recognise, even in the
+reverses and calamities I have known and mastered, the protecting hand
+of the Saviour of Nations--if those reverses were but the mercies of Him
+who chasteneth--necessary, it may be, to correct my earlier daring and
+sharpen yet more my intellect--if, in a word, thou believest me one
+whom, whatever be his faults, God hath preserved for the sake of Rome,
+forget that you are a Colonna--remember only that you are a Roman!”
+
+“You have conquered me, strange and commanding spirit,” said Adrian, in
+a low voice, completely carried away; “and whatever the conduct of my
+kindred, I am yours and Rome’s. Farewell.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 9.III. Adrian’s Adventures at Palestrina.
+
+It was yet noon when Adrian beheld before him the lofty mountains that
+shelter Palestrina, the Praeneste of the ancient world. Back to a
+period before Romulus existed, in the earliest ages of that mysterious
+civilisation which in Italy preceded the birth of Rome, could be traced
+the existence and the power of that rocky city. Eight dependent towns
+owned its sway and its wealth; its position, and the strength of those
+mighty walls, in whose ruins may yet be traced the masonry of the remote
+Pelasgi, had long braved the ambition of the neighbouring Rome. From
+that very citadel, the Mural Crown (Hence, apparently, its Greek name of
+Stephane. Palestrina is yet one of the many proofs which the vicinity of
+Rome affords of the old Greek civilization of Italy.) of the mountain,
+had waved the standard of Marius; and up the road which Adrian’s scanty
+troop slowly wound, had echoed the march of the murtherous Sylla, on his
+return from the Mithridatic war. Below, where the city spread towards
+the plain, were yet seen the shattered and roofless columns of the once
+celebrated Temple of Fortune; and still the immemorial olives clustered
+grey and mournfully around the ruins.
+
+A more formidable hold the Barons of Rome could not have selected; and
+as Adrian’s military eye scanned the steep ascent and the rugged walls,
+he felt that with ordinary skill it might defy for months all the power
+of the Roman Senator. Below, in the fertile valley, dismantled cottages
+and trampled harvests attested the violence and rapine of the insurgent
+Barons; and at that very moment were seen, in the old plain of the
+warlike Hernici, troops of armed men, driving before them herds of sheep
+and cattle, collected in their lawless incursions. In sight of that
+Praeneste, which had been the favourite retreat of the luxurious Lords
+of Rome in its most polished day, the Age of Iron seemed renewed.
+
+The banner of the Colonna, borne by Adrian’s troop, obtained ready
+admittance at the Porta del Sole. As he passed up the irregular
+and narrow streets that ascended to the citadel, groups of foreign
+mercenaries,--half-ragged, half-tawdry knots of abandoned women,--mixed
+here and there with the liveries of the Colonna, stood loitering amidst
+the ruins of ancient fanes and palaces, or basked lazily in the sun,
+upon terraces, through which, from amidst weeds and grass, glowed the
+imperishable hues of the rich mosaics, which had made the pride of that
+lettered and graceful nobility, of whom savage freebooters were now the
+heirs.
+
+The contrast between the Past and Present forcibly occurred to Adrian,
+as he passed along; and, despite his order, he felt as if Civilization
+itself were enlisted against his House upon the side of Rienzi.
+
+Leaving his train in the court of the citadel, Adrian demanded admission
+to the presence of his cousin. He had left Stefanello a child on his
+departure from Rome, and there could therefore be but a slight and
+unfamiliar acquaintance betwixt them, despite their kindred.
+
+Peals of laughter came upon his ear, as he followed one of Stefanello’s
+gentlemen through a winding passage that led to the principal chamber.
+The door was thrown open, and Adrian found himself in a rude hall, to
+which some appearance of hasty state and attempted comfort had been
+given. Costly arras imperfectly clothed the stone walls, and the rich
+seats and decorated tables, which the growing civilization of the
+northern cities of Italy had already introduced into the palaces of
+Italian nobles, strangely contrasted the rough pavement, spread with
+heaps of armour negligently piled around. At the farther end of the
+apartment, Adrian shudderingly perceived, set in due and exact order,
+the implements of torture.
+
+Stefanello Colonna, with two other Barons, indolently reclined on seats
+drawn around a table, in the recess of a deep casement, from which might
+be still seen the same glorious landscape, bounded by the dim spires
+of Rome, which Hannibal and Pyrrhus had ascended that very citadel to
+survey!
+
+Stefanello himself, in the first bloom of youth, bore already on his
+beardless countenance those traces usually the work of the passions and
+vices of maturest manhood. His features were cast in the mould of the
+old Stephen’s; in their clear, sharp, high-bred outline might be noticed
+that regular and graceful symmetry, which blood, in men as in animals,
+will sometimes entail through generations; but the features were wasted
+and meagre. His brows were knit in an eternal frown; his thin and
+bloodless lips wore that insolent contempt which seems so peculiarly
+cold and unlovely in early youth; and the deep and livid hollows round
+his eyes, spoke of habitual excess and premature exhaustion. By him sat
+(reconciled by hatred to one another) the hereditary foes of his race;
+the soft, but cunning and astute features of Luca di Savelli, contrasted
+with the broad frame and ferocious countenance of the Prince of the
+Orsini.
+
+The young head of the Colonna rose with some cordiality to receive his
+cousin. “Welcome,” he said, “dear Adrian; you are arrived in time to
+assist us with your well-known military skill. Think you not we shall
+stand a long siege, if the insolent plebeian dare adventure it? You know
+our friends, the Orsini and the Savelli? Thanks to St. Peter, or Peter’s
+delegate, we have now happily meaner throats to cut than those of each
+other!”
+
+Thus saying, Stefanello again threw himself listlessly on his seat, and
+the shrill, woman’s voice of Savelli took part in the dialogue.
+
+“I would, noble Signor, that you had come a few hours earlier: we are
+still making merry at the recollection--he, he, he!”
+
+“Ah, excellent,” cried Stefanello, joining in the laugh; “our cousin has
+had a loss. Know Adrian, that this base fellow, whom the Pope has
+had the impudence to create Senator, dared but yesterday to send us a
+varlet, whom he called--by our Lady!--his ambassador!”
+
+“Would you could have seen his mantle, Signor Adrian!” chimed in the
+Savelli: “purple velvet, as I live, decorated in gold, with the arms of
+Rome: we soon spoiled his finery.”
+
+“What!” exclaimed Adrian, “you did not break the laws of all nobility
+and knighthood?--you offered no insult to a herald!”
+
+“Herald, sayst thou?” cried Stefanello, frowning till his eyes were
+scarce visible. “It is for Princes and Barons alone to employ heralds.
+An’ I had had my will, I would have sent back the minion’s head to the
+usurper.”
+
+“What did ye then?” asked Adrian, coldly.
+
+“Bade our swineherds dip the fellow in the ditch, and gave him a night’s
+lodging in a dungeon to dry himself withal.”
+
+“And this morning--he, he, he!” added the Savelli, “we had him before
+us, and drew his teeth, one by one;--I would you could have heard the
+fellow mumble out for mercy!”
+
+Adrian rose hastily, and struck the table fiercely with his gauntlet.
+
+“Stefanello Colonna,” said he, colouring with noble rage, “answer me:
+did you dare to inflict this indelible disgrace upon the name we jointly
+bear? Tell me, at least, that you protested against this foul treason to
+all the laws of civilization and of honour. You answer not. House of the
+Colonna, can such be thy representative!”
+
+“To me these words!” said Stefanello, trembling with passion. “Beware!
+Methinks thou art the traitor, leagued perhaps with yon rascal mob. Well
+do I remember that thou, the betrothed of the Demagogue’s sister, didst
+not join with my uncle and my father of old, but didst basely leave the
+city to her plebeian tyrant.”
+
+“That did he!” said the fierce Orsini, approaching Adrian menacingly,
+while the gentle cowardice of Savelli sought in vain to pluck him back
+by the mantle--“that did he! and but for thy presence, Stefanello--”
+
+“Coward and blusterer!” interrupted Adrian, fairly beside himself with
+indignation and shame, and dashing his gauntlet in the very face of
+the advancing Orsini--“wouldst thou threaten one who has maintained, in
+every list of Europe, and against the stoutest Chivalry of the North,
+the honour of Rome, which thy deeds the while disgraced? By this gage,
+I spit upon and defy thee. With lance and with brand, on horse and on
+foot, I maintain against thee and all thy line, that thou art no knight
+to have thus maltreated, in thy strongholds, a peaceful and unarmed
+herald. Yes, even here, on the spot of thy disgrace, I challenge thee to
+arms!”
+
+“To the court below! Follow me,” said Orsini, sullenly, and striding
+towards the threshold. “What, ho there! my helmet and breast-plate!”
+
+“Stay, noble Orsini,” said Stefanello. “The insult offered to thee is my
+quarrel--mine was the deed--and against me speaks this degenerate scion
+of our line. Adrian di Castello--sometime called Colonna--surrender your
+sword: you are my prisoner!”
+
+“Oh!” said Adrian, grinding his teeth, “that my ancestral blood did
+not flow through thy veins--else--but enough! Me! your equal, and the
+favoured Knight of the Emperor, whose advent now brightens the frontiers
+of Italy!--me--you dare not detain. For your friends, I shall meet
+them yet perhaps, ere many days are over, where none shall separate our
+swords. Till then, remember, Orsini, that it is against no unpractised
+arm that thou wilt have to redeem thine honour!”
+
+Adrian, his drawn sword in his hand, strode towards the door, and passed
+the Orsini, who stood, lowering and irresolute, in the centre of the
+apartment.
+
+Savelli whispered Stefanello. “He says, ‘Ere many days be past!’ Be
+sure, dear Signor, that he goes to join Rienzi. Remember, the alliance
+he once sought with the Tribune’s sister may be renewed. Beware of him!
+Ought he to leave the castle? The name of a Colonna, associated with the
+mob, would distract and divide half our strength.”
+
+“Fear me not,” returned Stefanello, with a malignant smile. “Ere you
+spoke, I had determined!”
+
+The young Colonna lifted the arras from the wall, opened a door, and
+passed into a low hall, in which sate twenty mercenaries.
+
+“Quick!” said he. “Seize and disarm yon stranger in the green
+mantle--but slay him not. Bid the guard below find dungeons for his
+train. Quick! ere he reach the gate.”
+
+Adrian had gained the open hall below--his train and his steed were in
+sight in the court--when suddenly the soldiery of the Colonna, rushing
+through another passage than that which he had passed, surrounded and
+intercepted his retreat.
+
+“Yield thee, Adrian di Castello,” cried Stefanello from the summit of
+the stairs; “or your blood be on your own head.”
+
+Three steps did Adrian make through the press, and three of his enemies
+fell beneath his sword. “To the rescue!” he shouted to his band, and
+already those bold and daring troopers had gained the hall. Presently
+the alarum bell tolled loud--the court swarmed with soldiers. Oppressed
+by numbers, beat down rather than subdued, Adrian’s little train was
+soon secured, and the flower of the Colonna, wounded, breathless,
+disarmed, but still uttering loud defiance, was a prisoner in the
+fortress of his kinsman.
+
+
+
+Chapter 9.IV. The Position of the Senator.--The Work of Years.--The
+Rewards of Ambition.
+
+The indignation of Rienzi may readily be conceived, on the return of his
+herald mutilated and dishonoured. His temper, so naturally stern, was
+rendered yet more hard by the remembrance of his wrongs and trials; and
+the result which attended his overtures of conciliation to Stefanello
+Colonna stung him to the soul.
+
+The bell of the Capitol tolled to arms within ten minutes after the
+return of the herald. The great gonfalon of Rome was unfurled on the
+highest tower; and the very evening after Adrian’s arrest, the forces of
+the Senator, headed by Rienzi in person, were on the road to Palestrina.
+The troopers of the Barons had, however, made incursions as far as
+Tivoli with the supposed connivance of the inhabitants, and Rienzi
+halted at that beautiful spot to raise recruits, and receive the
+allegiance of the suspected, while his soldiers, with Arimbaldo and
+Brettone at their head, went in search of the marauders. The brothers of
+Montreal returned late at night with the intelligence, that the troopers
+of the Barons had secured themselves amidst the recesses of the wood of
+Pantano.
+
+The red spot mounted to Rienzi’s brow. He gazed hard at Brettone, who
+stated the news to him, and a natural suspicion shot across his mind.
+
+“How!--escaped!” he said. “Is it possible? Enough of such idle
+skirmishes with these lordly robbers. Will the hour ever come when I
+shall meet them hand to hand? Brettone,” and the brother of Montreal
+felt the dark eye of Rienzi pierce to his very heart; “Brettone!” said
+he, with an abrupt change of voice, “are your men to be trusted? Is
+there no connivance with the Barons?”
+
+“How!” said Brettone, sullenly, but somewhat confused.
+
+“How me no hows!” quoth the Tribune-Senator, fiercely. “I know that thou
+art a valiant Captain of valiant men. Thou and thy brother Arimbaldo
+have served me well, and I have rewarded ye well! Have I not? Speak!”
+
+“Senator,” answered Arimbaldo, taking up the word, “you have kept your
+word to us. You have raised us to the highest rank your power could
+bestow, and this has amply atoned our humble services.”
+
+“I am glad ye allow thus much,” said the Tribune.
+
+Arimbaldo proceeded, somewhat more loftily, “I trust, my Lord, you do
+not doubt us?”
+
+“Arimbaldo,” replied Rienzi, in a voice of deep, but half-suppressed
+emotion; “you are a lettered man, and you have seemed to share my
+projects for the regeneration of our common kind. You ought not to
+betray me. There is something in unison between us. But, chide me not, I
+am surrounded by treason, and the very air I breathe seems poison to my
+lips.”
+
+There was a pathos mingled with Rienzi’s words which touched the milder
+brother of Montreal. He bowed in silence. Rienzi surveyed him wistfully,
+and sighed. Then, changing the conversation, he spoke of their intended
+siege of Palestrina, and shortly afterwards retired to rest.
+
+Left alone, the brothers regarded each other for some moments in
+silence. “Brettone,” said Arimbaldo at length, in a whispered voice, “my
+heart misgives me. I like not Walter’s ambitious schemes. With our
+own countrymen we are frank and loyal, why play the traitor with this
+high-souled Roman?” (The anonymous biographer of Rienzi makes the
+following just remark: “Sono li tedeschi, come discendon de la Alemagna,
+semplici, puri, senza fraude, come si allocano tra’ taliani, diventano
+mastri coduti, viziosi, che sentono ogni malizia.”--“Vita di Cola di
+Rienzi”, lib. ii. cap. 16.)
+
+“Tush!” said Brettone. “Our brother’s hand of iron alone can sway this
+turbulent people; and if Rienzi be betrayed, so also are his enemies,
+the Barons. No more of this! I have tidings from Montreal; he will be in
+Rome in a few days.”
+
+“And then?”
+
+“Rienzi, weakened by the Barons (for he must not conquer)--the Barons,
+weakened by Rienzi--our Northmen seize the Capitol, and the soldiery,
+now scattered throughout Italy, will fly to the standard of the Great
+Captain. Montreal must be first Podesta, then King, of Rome.”
+
+Arimbaldo moved restlessly in his seat, and the brethren conferred no
+more on their projects.
+
+The situation of Rienzi was precisely that which tends the most to
+sour and to harden the fairest nature. With an intellect capable of the
+grandest designs, a heart that beat with the loftiest emotions, elevated
+to the sunny pinnacle of power and surrounded by loud-tongued adulators,
+he knew not among men a single breast in which he could confide. He was
+as one on a steep ascent, whose footing crumbles, while every bough at
+which he grasps seems to rot at his touch. He found the people more
+than ever eloquent in his favour, but while they shouted raptures as he
+passed, not a man was capable of making a sacrifice for him! The
+liberty of a state is never achieved by a single individual; if not the
+people--if not the greater number--a zealous and fervent minority, at
+least must go hand in hand with him. Rome demanded sacrifices in all who
+sought the Roman regeneration--sacrifices of time, ease, and money. The
+crowd followed the procession of the Senator, but not a single Roman
+devoted his life, unpaid, to his standard; not a single coin was
+subscribed in the defence of freedom. Against him were arrayed the most
+powerful and the most ferocious Barons of Italy; each of whom could
+maintain, at his own cost, a little army of practised warriors. With
+Rienzi were traders and artificers, who were willing to enjoy the fruits
+of liberty, but not to labour at the soil; who demanded, in return for
+empty shouts, peace and riches; and who expected that one man was to
+effect in a day what would be cheaply purchased by the struggle of a
+generation. All their dark and rude notion of a reformed state was to
+live unbutchered by the Barons and untaxed by their governors. Rome, I
+say, gave to her Senator not a free arm, nor a voluntary florin. (This
+plain fact is thoroughly borne out by every authority.) Well aware of
+the danger which surrounds the ruler who defends his state by foreign
+swords, the fondest wish, and the most visionary dream of Rienzi, was to
+revive amongst the Romans, in their first enthusiasm at his return, an
+organised and voluntary force, who, in protecting him, would protect
+themselves:--not, as before, in his first power, a nominal force of
+twenty thousand men, who at any hour might yield (as they did yield) to
+one hundred and fifty; but a regular, well disciplined, and trusty body,
+numerous enough to resist aggression, not numerous enough to become
+themselves the aggressors.
+
+Hitherto all his private endeavours, his public exhortations, had
+failed; the crowd listened--shouted--saw him quit the city to meet their
+tyrants, and returned to their shops, saying to each other, “What a
+great man!”
+
+The character of Rienzi has chiefly received for its judges men of the
+closet, who speculate upon human beings as if they were machines; who
+gauge the great, not by their merit, but their success; and who have
+censured or sneered at the Tribune, where they should have condemned the
+People! Had but one-half the spirit been found in Rome which ran
+through a single vein of Cola di Rienzi, the august Republic, if not
+the majestic empire, of Rome, might be existing now! Turning from the
+people, the Senator saw his rude and savage troops, accustomed to the
+licence of a tyrant’s camp, and under commanders in whom it was ruin
+really to confide--whom it was equal ruin openly to distrust. Hemmed
+in on every side by dangers, his character daily grew more restless,
+vigilant, and stern; and still, with all the aims of the patriot, he
+felt all the curses of the tyrant. Without the rough and hardening
+career which, through a life of warfare, had brought Cromwell to a
+similar power--with more of grace and intellectual softness in his
+composition, he resembled that yet greater man in some points of
+character--in his religious enthusiasm; his rigid justice, often
+forced by circumstance into severity, but never wantonly cruel or
+blood-thirsty; in his singular pride of country; and his mysterious
+command over the minds of others. But he resembled the giant Englishman
+far more in circumstance than original nature, and that circumstance
+assimilated their characters at the close of their several careers.
+Like Cromwell, beset by secret or open foes, the assassin’s dagger ever
+gleamed before his eyes; and his stout heart, unawed by real, trembled
+at imagined, terrors. The countenance changing suddenly from red to
+white--the bloodshot, restless eye, belying the composed majesty of
+mien--the muttering lips--the broken slumber--the secret corselet; these
+to both were the rewards of Power!
+
+The elasticity of youth had left the Tribune! His frame, which had
+endured so many shocks, had contracted a painful disease in the dungeon
+at Avignon (“Dicea che ne la prigione era stato ascarmato.” “Vita di
+Cola di Rienzi”, lib. ii. cap. 18.)--his high soul still supported him,
+but the nerves gave way. Tears came readily into his eyes, and often,
+like Cromwell, he was thought to weep from hypocrisy, when in truth
+it was the hysteric of over-wrought and irritable emotion. In all his
+former life singularly temperate, (“Solea prima esser sobrio, temperato,
+astinente, or a e diventato distemperatissimo bevitore,” &c.--Ibid.) he
+now fled from his goading thoughts to the beguiling excitement of wine.
+He drank deep, though its effects were never visible upon him except
+in a freer and wilder mood, and the indulgence of that racy humour,
+half-mirthful, half-bitter, for which his younger day had been
+distinguished. Now the mirth had more loudness, but the bitterness more
+gall.
+
+Such were the characteristics of Rienzi at his return to power--made
+more apparent with every day. Nina he still loved with the same
+tenderness, and, if possible, she adored him more than ever: but, the
+zest and freshness of triumphant ambition gone, somehow or other,
+their intercourse together had not its old charm. Formerly they talked
+constantly of the future--of the bright days in store for them. Now,
+with a sharp and uneasy pang, Rienzi turned from all thought of that
+“gay tomorrow.” There was no “gay tomorrow” for him! Dark and thorny
+as was the present hour, all beyond seemed yet less cheering and
+more ominous. Still he had some moments, brief but brilliant, when,
+forgetting the iron race amongst whom he was thrown, he plunged into
+scholastic reveries of the worshipped Past, and half-fancied that he
+was of a People worthy of his genius and his devotion. Like most men who
+have been preserved through great dangers, he continued with increasing
+fondness to nourish a credulous belief in the grandeur of his own
+destiny. He could not imagine that he had been so delivered, and for no
+end! He was the Elected, and therefore the Instrument, of Heaven.
+And thus, that Bible which in his loneliness, his wanderings, and his
+prison, had been his solace and support, was more than ever needed in
+his greatness.
+
+It was another cause of sorrow and chagrin to one who, amidst such
+circumstances of public danger, required so peculiarly the support and
+sympathy of private friends,--that he found he had incurred amongst his
+old coadjutors the common penalty of absence. A few were dead; others,
+wearied with the storms of public life, and chilled in their ardour
+by the turbulent revolutions to which, in every effort for her
+amelioration, Rome had been subjected, had retired,--some altogether
+from the city, some from all participation in political affairs. In his
+halls, the Tribune-Senator was surrounded by unfamiliar faces, and a new
+generation. Of the heads of the popular party, most were animated by a
+stern dislike to the Pontifical domination, and looked with suspicion
+and repugnance upon one who, if he governed for the People, had been
+trusted and honoured by the Pope. Rienzi was not a man to forget former
+friends, however lowly, and had already found time to seek an interview
+with Cecco del Vecchio. But that stern Republican had received him with
+coldness. His foreign mercenaries, and his title of Senator, were things
+that the artisan could not digest. With his usual bluntness, he had said
+so to Rienzi.
+
+“As for the last,” answered the Tribune, affably, “names do not alter
+natures. When I forget that to be delegate to the Pontiff is to be the
+guardian of his flock, forsake me. As for the first, let me but see five
+hundred Romans sworn to stand armed day and night for the defence of
+Rome, and I dismiss the Northmen.”
+
+Cecco del Vecchio was unsoftened; honest, but uneducated--impracticable,
+and by nature a malcontent, he felt as if he were no longer necessary
+to the Senator, and this offended his pride. Strange as it may seem, the
+sullen artisan bore, too, a secret grudge against Rienzi, for not
+having seen and selected him from a crowd of thousands on the day of his
+triumphal entry. Such are the small offences which produce deep danger
+to the great!
+
+The artisans still held their meetings, and Cecco del Vecchio’s voice
+was heard loud in grumbling forebodings. But what wounded Rienzi yet
+more than the alienation of the rest, was the confused and altered
+manner of his old friend and familiar, Pandulfo di Guido. Missing
+that popular citizen among those who daily offered their homage at the
+Capitol, he had sent for him, and sought in vain to revive their ancient
+intimacy. Pandulfo affected great respect, but not all the condescension
+of the Senator could conquer his distance and his restraint. In fact,
+Pandulfo had learned to form ambitious projects of his own; and but for
+the return of Rienzi, Pandulfo di Guido felt that he might now, with
+greater safety, and indeed with some connivance from the Barons, have
+been the Tribune of the People. The facility to rise into popular
+eminence which a disordered and corrupt state, unblest by a regular
+constitution, offers to ambition, breeds the jealousy and the rivalship
+which destroy union, and rot away the ties of party.
+
+Such was the situation of Rienzi, and yet, wonderful to say, he seemed
+to be adored by the multitude; and law and liberty, life and death, were
+in his hands!
+
+Of all those who attended his person, Angelo Villani was the most
+favoured; that youth who had accompanied Rienzi in his long exile,
+had also, at the wish of Nina, attended him from Avignon, through his
+sojourn in the camp of Albornoz. His zeal, intelligence, and frank and
+evident affection, blinded the Senator to the faults of his character,
+and established him more and more in the gratitude of Rienzi. He loved
+to feel that one faithful heart beat near him, and the page, raised to
+the rank of his chamberlain, always attended his person, and slept in
+his ante-chamber.
+
+Retiring that night at Tivoli, to the apartment prepared for him, the
+Senator sat down by the open casement, through which were seen, waving
+in the starlight, the dark pines that crowned the hills, while the
+stillness of the hour gave to his ear the dash of the waterfalls heard
+above the regular and measured tread of the sentinels below. Leaning his
+cheek upon his hand, Rienzi long surrendered himself to gloomy thought,
+and, when he looked up, he saw the bright blue eye of Villani fixed in
+anxious sympathy on his countenance.
+
+“Is my Lord unwell?” asked the young chamberlain, hesitating.
+
+“Not so, my Angelo; but somewhat sick at heart. Methinks, for a
+September night, the air is chill!”
+
+“Angelo,” resumed Rienzi, who had already acquired that uneasy curiosity
+which belongs to an uncertain power,--“Angelo, bring me hither yon
+writing implements; hast thou heard aught what the men say of our
+probable success against Palestrina?”
+
+“Would my Lord wish to learn all their gossip, whether it please or
+not?” answered Villani.
+
+“If I studied only to hear what pleased me, Angelo, I should never have
+returned to Rome.”
+
+“Why, then, I heard a constable of the Northmen say, meaningly, that the
+place will not be carried.”
+
+“Humph! And what said the captains of my Roman Legion?”
+
+“My Lord, I have heard it whispered that they fear defeat less than they
+do the revenge of the Barons, if they are successful.”
+
+“And with such tools the living race of Europe and misjudging posterity
+will deem that the workman is to shape out the Ideal and the Perfect!
+Bring me yon Bible.”
+
+As Angelo reverently brought to Rienzi the sacred book, he said,
+
+“Just before I left my companions below, there was a rumour that the
+Lord Adrian Colonna had been imprisoned by his kinsman.”
+
+“I too heard, and I believe, as much,” returned Rienzi: “these Barons
+would gibbet their own children in irons, if there were any chance of
+the shackles growing rusty for want of prey. But the wicked shall be
+brought low, and their strong places shall be made desolate.”
+
+“I would, my Lord,” said Villani, “that our Northmen had other captains
+than these Provencals.”
+
+“Why?” asked Rienzi, abruptly.
+
+“Have the creatures of the Captain of the Grand Company ever held faith
+with any man whom it suited the avarice or the ambition of Montreal to
+betray? Was he not, a few months ago, the right arm of John di Vico,
+and did he not sell his services to John di Vico’s enemy, the Cardinal
+Albornoz? These warriors barter men as cattle.”
+
+“Thou describest Montreal rightly: a dangerous and an awful man. But
+methinks his brothers are of a duller and meaner kind; they dare not
+the crimes of the Robber Captain. Howbeit, Angelo, thou hast touched a
+string that will make discord with sleep tonight. Fair youth, thy young
+eyes have need of slumber; withdraw, and when thou hearest men envy
+Rienzi, think that--”
+
+“God never made Genius to be envied!” interrupted Villani, with an
+energy that overcame his respect. “We envy not the sun, but rather the
+valleys that ripen beneath his beams.”
+
+“Verily, if I be the sun,” said Rienzi, with a bitter and melancholy
+smile, “I long for night,--and come it will, to the human as to the
+celestial Pilgrim!--Thank Heaven, at least, that our ambition cannot
+make us immortal!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 9.V. The Biter Bit.
+
+The next morning, when Rienzi descended to the room where his captains
+awaited him, his quick eye perceived that a cloud still lowered upon the
+brow of Messere Brettone. Arimbaldo, sheltered by the recess of the rude
+casement, shunned his eye.
+
+“A fair morning, gentles,” said Rienzi; “the Sun laughs upon our
+enterprise. I have messengers from Rome betimes--fresh troops will join
+us ere noon.”
+
+“I am glad, Senator,” answered Brettone, “that you have tidings which
+will counteract the ill of those I have to narrate to thee. The soldiers
+murmur loudly--their pay is due to them; and, I fear me, that without
+money they will not march to Palestrina.”
+
+“As they will,” returned Rienzi, carelessly. “It is but a few days since
+they entered Rome; pay did they receive in advance--if they demand
+more, the Colonna and Orsini may outbid me. Draw off your soldiers, Sir
+Knight, and farewell.”
+
+Brettone’s countenance fell--it was his object to get Rienzi more and
+more in his power, and he wished not to suffer him to gain that strength
+which would accrue to him from the fall of Palestrina: the indifference
+of the Senator foiled and entrapped him in his own net.
+
+“That must not be,” said the brother of Montreal, after a confused
+silence; “we cannot leave you thus to your enemies--the soldiers, it is
+true, demand pay--”
+
+“And should have it,” said Rienzi. “I know these mercenaries--it is
+ever with them, mutiny or money. I will throw myself on my Romans,
+and triumph--or fall, if so Heaven decrees, with them. Acquaint your
+constables with my resolve.”
+
+Scarce were these words spoken, ere, as previously concerted with
+Brettone, the chief constable of the mercenaries appeared at the door.
+“Senator,” said he, with a rough semblance of aspect, “your orders to
+march have reached me, I have sought to marshal my men--but--”
+
+“I know what thou wouldst say, friend,” interrupted Rienzi, waving
+his hand: “Messere Brettone will give you my reply. Another time, Sir
+Captain, more ceremony with the Senator of Rome--you may withdraw.”
+
+The unforeseen dignity of Rienzi rebuked and abashed the constable; he
+looked at Brettone, who motioned him to depart. He closed the door and
+withdrew.
+
+“What is to be done?” said Brettone.
+
+“Sir Knight,” replied Rienzi, gravely, “let us understand each other.
+Would you serve me or not? If the first, you are not my equal, but
+subordinate--and you must obey and not dictate; if the last, my debt to
+you shall be discharged, and the world is wide enough for both.”
+
+“We have declared allegiance to you,” answered Brettone, “and it shall
+be given.”
+
+“One caution before I re-accept your fealty,” replied Rienzi, very
+slowly. “For an open foe, I have my sword--for a traitor, mark me, Rome
+has the axe; of the first I have no fear; for the last, no mercy.”
+
+“These are not words that should pass between friends,” said Brettone,
+turning pale with suppressed emotion.
+
+“Friends!--ye are my friends, then!--your hands! Friends, so ye
+are!--and shall prove it! Dear Arimbaldo, thou, like myself, art
+book-learned,--a clerkly soldier. Dost thou remember how in the Roman
+history it is told that the Treasury lacked money for the soldiers? The
+Consul convened the Nobles. ‘Ye,’ said he, ‘that have the offices and
+dignity should be the first to pay for them.’ Ye heed me, my friends;
+the nobles took the hint, they found the money--the army was paid. This
+example is not lost on you. I have made you the leaders of my force,
+Rome hath showered her honours on you. Your generosity shall commence
+the example which the Romans shall thus learn of strangers. Ye gaze at
+me, my friends! I read your noble souls--and thank ye beforehand. Ye
+have the dignity and the office; ye have also the wealth!--pay the
+hirelings, pay them!” (See the anonymous biographer, lib. ii. cap. 19.)
+
+Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Brettone, he could not have been
+more astounded than at this simple suggestion of Rienzi’s. He lifted
+his eyes to the Senator’s face, and saw there that smile which he had
+already, bold as he was, learned to dread. He felt himself fairly
+sunk in the pit he had digged for another. There was that in the
+Senator-Tribune’s brow that told him to refuse was to declare open war,
+and the moment was not ripe for that.
+
+“Ye accede,” said Rienzi; “ye have done well.”
+
+The Senator clapped his hands--his guard appeared.
+
+“Summon the head constables of the soldiery.”
+
+The brothers still remained dumb.
+
+The constables entered.
+
+“My friends,” said Rienzi, “Messere Brettone and Messere Arimbaldo have
+my directions to divide amongst your force a thousand florins. This
+evening we encamp beneath Palestrina.”
+
+The constables withdrew in visible surprise. Rienzi gazed a moment on
+the brothers, chuckling within himself--for his sarcastic humour enjoyed
+his triumph. “You lament not your devotion, my friends!”
+
+“No,” said Brettone, rousing himself; “the sum but trivially swells our
+debt.”
+
+“Frankly said--your hands once more!--the good people of Tivoli expect
+me in the Piazza--they require some admonitions. Adieu till noon.”
+
+When the door closed on Rienzi, Brettone struck the handle of his sword
+fiercely--“The Roman laughs at us,” said he. “But let Walter de Montreal
+once appear in Rome, and the proud jester shall pay us dearly for this.”
+
+“Hush!” said Arimbaldo, “walls have ears, and that imp of Satan, young
+Villani, seems to me ever at our heels!”
+
+“A thousand florins! I trust his heart hath as many drops,” growled the
+chafed Brettone, unheeding his brother.
+
+The soldiers were paid--the army marched--the eloquence of the Senator
+had augmented his force by volunteers from Tivoli, and wild and
+half armed peasantry joined his standard from the Campagna and the
+neighbouring mountains.
+
+Palestrina was besieged: Rienzi continued dexterously to watch the
+brothers of Montreal. Under pretext of imparting to the Italian
+volunteers the advantage of their military science, he separated them
+from their mercenaries, and assigned to them the command of the less
+disciplined Italians, with whom, he believed, they could not venture
+to tamper. He himself assumed the lead of the Northmen--and, despite
+themselves, they were fascinated by his artful, yet dignified
+affability, and the personal courage he displayed in some sallies of the
+besieged Barons. But as the huntsmen upon all the subtlest windings of
+their prey,--so pressed the relentless and speeding Fates upon Cola di
+Rienzi!
+
+
+
+Chapter 9.VI. The Events Gather to the End.
+
+While this the state of the camp of the besiegers, Luca di Savelli and
+Stefanello Colonna were closeted with a stranger, who had privately
+entered Palestrina on the night before the Romans pitched their tents
+beneath its walls. This visitor, who might have somewhat passed his
+fortieth year, yet retained, scarcely diminished, the uncommon beauty of
+form and countenance for which his youth had been remarkable. But it was
+no longer that character of beauty which has been described in his first
+introduction to the reader. It was no longer the almost woman delicacy
+of feature and complexion, or the highborn polish, and graceful suavity
+of manner, which distinguished Walter de Montreal: a life of vicissitude
+and war had at length done its work. His bearing was now abrupt and
+imperious, as that of one accustomed to rule wild spirits, and he had
+exchanged the grace of persuasion for the sternness of command. His
+athletic form had grown more spare and sinewy, and instead of the brow
+half shaded by fair and clustering curls, his forehead, though yet
+but slightly wrinkled, was completely bald at the temples; and by its
+unwonted height, increased the dignity and manliness of his aspect. The
+bloom of his complexion was faded, less by outward exposure than inward
+thought, into a bronzed and settled paleness; and his features seemed
+more marked and prominent, as the flesh had somewhat sunk from the
+contour of the cheek. Yet the change suited the change of age and
+circumstance; and if the Provencal now less realised the idea of
+the brave and fair knight-errant, he but looked the more what the
+knight-errant had become--the sagacious counsellor and the mighty
+leader.
+
+“You must be aware,” said Montreal, continuing a discourse which
+appeared to have made great impression on his companions, “that in this
+contest between yourselves and the Senator, I alone hold the balance.
+Rienzi is utterly in my power--my brothers, the leaders of his army;
+myself, his creditor. It rests with me to secure him on the throne, or
+to send him to the scaffold. I have but to give the order, and the Grand
+Company enter Rome; but without their agency, methinks if you keep faith
+with me, our purpose can be effected.”
+
+“In the meanwhile, Palestrina is besieged by your brothers!” said
+Stefanello, sharply.
+
+“But they have my orders to waste their time before its walls. Do you
+not see, that by this very siege, fruitless, as, if I will, it shall be,
+Rienzi loses fame abroad, and popularity in Rome.”
+
+“Sir Knight,” said Luca di Savelli, “you speak as a man versed in the
+profound policy of the times; and under all the circumstances which
+menace us, your proposal seems but fitting and reasonable. On the one
+hand, you undertake to restore us and the other Barons to Rome; and to
+give Rienzi to the Staircase of the Lion--”
+
+“Not so, not so,” replied Montreal, quickly. “I will consent either so
+to subdue and cripple his power, as to render him a puppet in our hands,
+a mere shadow of authority--or, if his proud spirit chafe at its cage,
+to give it once more liberty amongst the wilds of Germany. I would
+fetter or banish him, but not destroy; unless (added Montreal, after a
+moment’s pause) fate absolutely drives us to it. Power should not demand
+victims; but to secure it, victims may be necessary.”
+
+“I understand your refinements,” said Luca di Savelli, with his icy
+smile, “and am satisfied. The Barons once restored, our palaces once
+more manned, and I am willing to take the chance of the Senator’s
+longevity. This service you promise to effect?”
+
+“I do.”
+
+“And, in return, you demand our assent to your enjoying the rank of
+Podesta for five years?”
+
+“You say right.”
+
+“I, for one, accede to the terms,” said the Savelli: “there is my hand;
+I am wearied of these brawls, even amongst ourselves, and think that a
+Foreign Ruler may best enforce order: the more especially, if like
+you, Sir Knight, one whose birth and renown are such as to make him
+comprehend the difference between Barons and Plebeians.”
+
+“For my part,” said Stefanello, “I feel that we have but a choice of
+evils--I like not a foreign Podesta; but I like a plebeian Senator still
+less;--there too is my hand, Sir Knight.”
+
+“Noble Signors,” said Montreal, after a short pause, and turning his
+piercing gaze from one to the other with great deliberation, “our
+compact is sealed; one word by way of codicil. Walter de Montreal is no
+Count Pepin of Minorbino! Once before, little dreaming, I own, that the
+victory would be so facile, I intrusted your cause and mine to a deputy;
+your cause he promoted, mine he lost. He drove out the Tribune, and
+then suffered the Barons to banish himself. This time I see to my own
+affairs; and, mark you, I have learned in the Grand Company one lesson;
+viz. never to pardon spy or deserter, of whatever rank. Your forgiveness
+for the hint. Let us change the theme. So ye detain in your fortress my
+old friend the Baron di Castello?”
+
+“Ay,” said Luca di Savelli; for Stefanello, stung by Montreal’s threat,
+which he dared not openly resent, preserved a sullen silence; “Ay, he is
+one noble the less to the Senator’s council.”
+
+“You act wisely. I know his views and temper; at present dangerous to
+our interests. Yet use him well, I entreat you; he may hereafter serve
+us. And now, my Lords, my eyes are weary, suffer me to retire. Pleasant
+dreams of the New Revolution to us all!”
+
+“By your leave, noble Montreal, we will attend you to your couch,” said
+Luca di Savelli.
+
+“By my troth, and ye shall not. I am no Tribune to have great Signors
+for my pages; but a plain gentleman, and a hardy soldier: your
+attendants will conduct me to whatever chamber your hospitality assigns
+to one who could sleep soundly beneath the rudest hedge under your open
+skies.”
+
+Savelli, however, insisted on conducting the Podesta that was to be, to
+his apartment. He then returned to Stefanello, whom he found pacing the
+saloon with long and disordered strides.
+
+“What have we done, Savelli?” said he, quickly; “sold our city to a
+barbarian!”
+
+“Sold!” said Savelli; “to my mind it is the other part of the contract
+in which we have played our share. We have bought, Colonna, not
+sold--bought our lives from yon army; bought our power, our fortunes,
+our castles, from the Demagogue Senator; bought, what is better than
+all, triumph and revenge. Tush, Colonna, see you not that if we had
+balked this great warrior, we had perished? Leagued with the Senator,
+the Grand Company would have marched to Rome; and, whether Montreal
+assisted or murdered Rienzi, (for methinks he is a Romulus, who would
+brook no Remus), we had equally been undone. Now, we have made our own
+terms, and our shares are equal. Nay, the first steps to be taken are in
+our favour. Rienzi is to be snared, and we are to enter Rome.”
+
+“And then the Provencal is to be Despot of the city.”
+
+“Podesta, if you please. Podestas who offend the people are often
+banished, and sometimes stoned--Podestas who insult the nobles are often
+stilettoed, and sometimes poisoned,” said Savelli. “‘Sufficient for the
+day is the evil thereof.’ Meanwhile, say nothing to the bear, Orsini.
+Such men mar all wisdom. Come, cheer thee, Stefanello.”
+
+“Luca di Savelli, you have not such a stake in Rome as I have,” said
+the young Lord, haughtily; “no Podesta can take from you the rank of the
+first Signor of the Italian metropolis!”
+
+“An you had said so to the Orsini, there would have been drawing of
+swords,” said Savelli. “But cheer thee, I say; is not our first care to
+destroy Rienzi, and then, between the death of one foe and the rise of
+another, are there not such preventives as Ezzelino da Romano has taught
+to wary men? Cheer thee, I say; and, next year, if we but hold together,
+Stefanello Colonna and Luca di Savelli will be joint Senators of Rome,
+and these great men food for worms!”
+
+While thus conferred the Barons, Montreal, ere he retired to rest, stood
+gazing from the open lattice of his chamber over the landscape below,
+which slept in the autumnal moonlight, while at a distance gleamed, pale
+and steady, the lights round the encampment of the besiegers.
+
+“Wide plains and broad valleys,” thought the warrior, “soon shall ye
+repose in peace beneath a new sway, against which no petty tyrant
+shall dare rebel. And ye, white walls of canvass, even while I gaze--ye
+admonish me how realms are won. Even as, of old, from the Nomad tents
+was built up the stately Babylon, (Isaiah, c. xxii.) that ‘was not till
+the Assyrian founded it for them that dwell in the wilderness;’ so by
+the new Ishmaelites of Europe shall a race, undreamt of now, be founded;
+and the camp of yesterday, be the city of tomorrow. Verily, when, for
+one soft offence, the Pontiff thrust me from the bosom of the Church,
+little guessed he what enemy he raised to Rome! How solemn is the
+night!--how still the heavens and earth!--the very stars are as hushed,
+as if intent on the events that are to pass below! So solemn and so
+still feels mine own spirit, and an awe unknown till now warns me that I
+approach the crisis of my daring fate!”
+
+
+
+
+BOOK X. THE LION Of BASALT.
+
+     “Ora voglio contare la morte del Tribuno.”--(“Vita di Cola di
+     Rienzi”, lib. ii. cap. 24.)
+
+     “Now will I narrate the death of the Tribune.”--“Life of
+     Cola di Rienzi”.
+
+
+
+Chapter 10.I. The Conjunction of Hostile Planets in the House of Death.
+
+On the fourth day of the siege, and after beating back to those almost
+impregnable walls the soldiery of the Barons, headed by the Prince of
+the Orsini, the Senator returned to his tent, where despatches from Rome
+awaited him. He ran his eye hastily over them, till he came to the last;
+yet each contained news that might have longer delayed the eye of a man
+less inured to danger. From one he learned that Albornoz, whose blessing
+had confirmed to him the rank of Senator, had received with special
+favour the messengers of the Orsini and Colonna. He knew that the
+Cardinal, whose views connected him with the Roman Patricians, desired
+his downfall; but he feared not Albornoz: perhaps in his secret heart
+he wished that any open aggression from the Pontiff’s Legate might throw
+him wholly on the people.
+
+He learned further, that, short as had been his absence, Pandulfo di
+Guido had twice addressed the populace, not in favour of the Senator,
+but in artful regrets of the loss to the trade of Rome in the absence of
+her wealthiest nobles.
+
+“For this, then, he has deserted me,” said Rienzi to himself. “Let him
+beware!”
+
+The tidings contained in the next touched him home: Walter de Montreal
+had openly arrived in Rome. The grasping and lawless bandit, whose
+rapine filled with a robber’s booty every bank in Europe--whose
+Company was the army of a King--whose ambition, vast, unprincipled,
+and profound, he so well knew--whose brothers were in his camp--their
+treason already more than suspected;--Walter de Montreal was in Rome!
+
+The Senator remained perfectly aghast at this new peril; and then said,
+setting his teeth as in a vice,
+
+“Wild tiger, thou art in the Lion’s den!” Then pausing, he broke out
+again, “One false step, Walter de Montreal, and all the mailed hands of
+the Grand Company shall not pluck thee from the abyss! But what can I
+do? Return to Rome--the plans of Montreal unpenetrated--no accusation
+against him! On what pretence can I with honour raise the siege? To
+leave Palestrina, is to give a triumph to the Barons--to abandon Adrian,
+to degrade my cause. Yet, while away from Rome, every hour breeds
+treason and danger. Pandulfo, Albornoz, Montreal--all are at
+work against me. A keen and trusty spy, now;--ha, well thought
+of--Villani!--What, ho--Angelo Villani!”
+
+The young chamberlain appeared.
+
+“I think,” said Rienzi, “to have often heard, that thou art an orphan?”
+
+“True, my Lord; the old Augustine nun who reared my boyhood, has told me
+again and again that my parents are dead. Both noble, my Lord; but I am
+the child of shame. And I say it often, and think of it ever, in order
+to make Angelo Villani remember that he has a name to win.”
+
+“Young man, serve me as you have served, and if I live you shall have no
+need to call yourself an orphan. Mark me! I want a friend--the Senator
+of Rome wants a friend--only one friend--gentle Heaven! only one!”
+
+Angelo sank on his knee, and kissed the mantle of his Lord.
+
+“Say a follower. I am too mean to be Rienzi’s friend.”
+
+“Too mean!--go to!--there is nothing mean before God, unless it be a
+base soul under high titles. With me, boy, there is but one nobility,
+and Nature signs its charter. Listen: thou hearest daily of Walter de
+Montreal, brother to these Provencals--great captain of great robbers?”
+
+“Ay, and I have seen him, my Lord.”
+
+“Well, then, he is in Rome. Some daring thought--some well-supported and
+deep-schemed villany, could alone make that bandit venture openly into
+an Italian city, whose territories he ravaged by fire and sword a
+few months back. But his brothers have lent me money--assisted my
+return;--for their own ends, it is true: but the seeming obligation
+gives them real power. These Northern swordsmen would cut my throat if
+the Great Captain bade them. He counts on my supposed weakness. I know
+him of old. I suspect--nay I read, his projects; but I cannot prove
+them. Without proof, I cannot desert Palestrina in order to accuse
+and seize him. Thou art shrewd, thoughtful, acute;--couldst thou go to
+Rome?--watch day and night his movements--see if he receive messengers
+from Albornoz or the Barons--if he confer with Pandulfo di Guido;--watch
+his lodgment, I say, night and day. He affects no concealment; your task
+will be less difficult than it seems. Apprise the Signora of all you
+learn. Give me your news daily. Will you undertake this mission?”
+
+“I will, my Lord.”
+
+“To horse, then, quick!--and mind--save the wife of my bosom, I have no
+confidant in Rome.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 10.II. Montreal at Rome.--His Reception of Angelo Villani.
+
+The danger that threatened Rienzi by the arrival of Montreal was
+indeed formidable. The Knight of St. John, having marched his army into
+Lombardy, had placed it at the disposal of the Venetian State in its war
+with the Archbishop of Milan. For this service he received an immense
+sum; while he provided winter quarters for his troop, for whom he
+proposed ample work in the ensuing spring. Leaving Palestrina secretly
+and in disguise, with but a slender train, which met him at Tivoli,
+Montreal repaired to Rome. His ostensible object was, partly to
+congratulate the Senator on his return, partly to receive the monies
+lent to Rienzi by his brother.
+
+His secret object we have partly seen; but not contented with the
+support of the Barons, he trusted, by the corrupting means of his
+enormous wealth, to form a third party in support of his own ulterior
+designs. Wealth, indeed, in that age and in that land, was scarcely less
+the purchaser of diadems than it had been in the later days of the
+Roman Empire. And in many a city torn by hereditary feuds, the hatred of
+faction rose to that extent, that a foreign tyrant, willing and able to
+expel one party, might obtain at least the temporary submission of
+the other. His after-success was greatly in proportion to his power to
+maintain his state by a force which was independent of the citizens,
+and by a treasury which did not require the odious recruit of taxes. But
+more avaricious than ambitious, more cruel than firm, it was by griping
+exaction, or unnecessary bloodshed, that such usurpers usually fell.
+
+Montreal, who had scanned the frequent revolutions of the time with a
+calm and investigating eye, trusted that he should be enabled to avoid
+both these errors: and, as the reader has already seen, he had formed
+the profound and sagacious project of consolidating his usurpation by an
+utterly new race of nobles, who, serving him by the feudal tenure of the
+North, and ever ready to protect him, because in so doing they protected
+their own interests, should assist to erect, not the rotten and
+unsupported fabric of a single tyranny, but the strong fortress of a
+new, hardy, and compact Aristocratic State. Thus had the great dynasties
+of the North been founded; in which a King, though seemingly curbed
+by the Barons, was in reality supported by a common interest, whether
+against a subdued population or a foreign invasion.
+
+Such were the vast schemes--extending into yet wider fields of glory and
+conquest, bounded only by the Alps--with which the Captain of the Grand
+Company beheld the columns and arches of the Seven-hilled City.
+
+No fear disturbed the long current of his thoughts. His brothers were
+the leaders of Rienzi’s hireling army--that army were his creatures.
+Over Rienzi himself he assumed the right of a creditor. Thus against
+one party he deemed himself secure. For the friends of the Pope, he had
+supported himself with private, though cautious, letters from Albornoz,
+who desired only to make use of him for the return of the Roman
+Barons; and with the heads of the latter we have already witnessed his
+negotiations. Thus was he fitted, as he thought, to examine, to tamper
+with all parties, and to select from each the materials necessary for
+his own objects.
+
+The open appearance of Montreal excited in Rome no inconsiderable
+sensation. The friends of the Barons gave out that Rienzi was in league
+with the Grand Company; and that he was to sell the imperial city to
+the plunder and pillage of Barbarian robbers. The effrontery with which
+Montreal (against whom, more than once, the Pontiff had thundered his
+bulls) appeared in the Metropolitan City of the Church, was made yet
+more insolent by the recollection of that stern justice which had led
+the Tribune to declare open war against all the robbers of Italy: and
+this audacity was linked with the obvious reflection, that the brothers
+of the bold Provencal were the instruments of Rienzi’s return. So
+quickly spread suspicion through the city, that Montreal’s presence
+alone would in a few weeks have sufficed to ruin the Senator. Meanwhile,
+the natural boldness of Montreal silenced every whisper of prudence;
+and, blinded by the dazzle of his hopes, the Knight of St. John, as
+if to give double importance to his coming, took up his residence in a
+sumptuous palace, and his retinue rivalled, in the splendour of garb and
+pomp, the display of Rienzi himself in his earlier and more brilliant
+power.
+
+Amidst the growing excitement, Angelo Villani arrived at Rome.
+The character of this young man had been formed by his peculiar
+circumstances. He possessed qualities which often mark the Illegitimate
+as with a common stamp. He was insolent--like most of those who hold a
+doubtful rank; and while ashamed of his bastardy, was arrogant of the
+supposed nobility of his unknown parentage. The universal ferment and
+agitation of Italy at that day rendered ambition the most common of all
+the passions, and thus ambition, in all its many shades and varieties,
+forces itself into our delineations of character in this history. Though
+not for Angelo Villani were the dreams of the more lofty and generous
+order of that sublime infirmity, he was strongly incited by the desire
+and resolve to rise. He had warm affections and grateful impulses; and
+his fidelity to his patron had been carried to a virtue: but from his
+irregulated and desultory education, and the reckless profligacy of
+those with whom, in ante-chambers and guard-rooms, much of his youth had
+been passed, he had neither high principles nor an enlightened honour.
+Like most Italians, cunning and shrewd, he scrupled not at any deceit
+that served a purpose or a friend. His strong attachment to Rienzi had
+been unconsciously increased by the gratification of pride and vanity,
+flattered by the favour of so celebrated a man. Both self-interest and
+attachment urged him to every effort to promote the views and safety of
+one at once his benefactor and patron; and on undertaking his present
+mission, his only thought was to fulfil it with the most complete
+success. Far more brave and daring than was common with the Italians,
+something of the hardihood of an Ultra-Montane race gave nerve and
+vigour to his craft; and from what his art suggested, his courage never
+shrunk.
+
+When Rienzi had first detailed to him the objects of his present task,
+he instantly called to mind his adventure with the tall soldier in the
+crowd at Avignon. “If ever thou wantest a friend, seek him in Walter
+de Montreal,” were words that had often rung in his ear, and they now
+recurred to him with prophetic distinctness. He had no doubt that it
+was Montreal himself whom he had seen. Why the Great Captain should
+have taken this interest in him, Angelo little cared to conjecture. Most
+probably it was but a crafty pretence--one of the common means by which
+the Chief of the Grand Company attracted to himself the youths of Italy,
+as well as the warriors of the North. He only thought now how he could
+turn the Knight’s promise to account. What more easy than to present
+himself to Montreal--remind him of the words--enter his service--and
+thus effectually watch his conduct? The office of spy was not that which
+would have pleased every mind, but it shocked not the fastidiousness of
+Angelo Villani; and the fearful hatred with which his patron had often
+spoken of the avaricious and barbarian robber--the scourge of his native
+land,--had infected the young man, who had much of the arrogant and mock
+patriotism of the Romans, with a similar sentiment. More vindictive
+even than grateful, he bore, too, a secret grudge against Montreal’s
+brothers, whose rough address had often wounded his pride; and, above
+all, his early recollections of the fear and execration in which Ursula
+seemed ever to hold the terrible Fra Moreale, impressed him with a vague
+belief of some ancient wrong to himself or his race, perpetrated by the
+Provencal, which he was not ill-pleased to have the occasion to avenge.
+In truth, the words of Ursula, mystic and dark as they were in
+their denunciation, had left upon Villani’s boyish impressions an
+unaccountable feeling of antipathy and hatred to the man it was now his
+object to betray. For the rest, every device seemed to him decorous
+and justifiable, so that it saved his master, served his country, and
+advanced himself.
+
+Montreal was alone in his chamber when it was announced to him that
+a young Italian craved an audience. Professionally open to access, he
+forthwith gave admission to the applicant.
+
+The Knight of St. John instantly recognised the page he had encountered
+at Avignon; and when Angelo Villani said, with easy boldness, “I have
+come to remind Sir Walter de Montreal of a promise--”
+
+The Knight interrupted him with cordial frankness--“Thou needest not--I
+remember it. Dost thou now require my friendship?”
+
+“I do noble Signor!” answered Angelo; “I know not where else to seek a
+patron.”
+
+“Canst thou read and write? I fear me not.”
+
+“I have been taught those arts,” replied Villani.
+
+“It is well. Is thy birth gentle?”
+
+“It is.”
+
+“Better still;--thy name?”
+
+“Angelo Villani.”
+
+“I take thy blue eyes and low broad brow,” said Montreal, with a slight
+sigh, “in pledge of thy truth. Henceforth, Angelo Villani, thou art
+in the list of my secretaries. Another time thou shalt tell me more
+of thyself. Thy service dates from this day. For the rest, no man ever
+wanted wealth who served Walter de Montreal; nor advancement, if
+he served him faithfully. My closet, through yonder door, is thy
+waiting-room. Ask for, and send hither, Lusignan of Lyons; he is my
+chief scribe, and will see to thy comforts, and instruct thee in thy
+business.”
+
+Angelo withdrew--Montreal’s eye followed him.
+
+“A strange likeness!” said he, musingly and sadly; “my heart leaps to
+that boy!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 10.III. Montreal’s Banquet.
+
+Some few days after the date of the last chapter, Rienzi received
+news from Rome, which seemed to produce in him a joyous and elated
+excitement. His troops still lay before Palestrina, and still the
+banners of the Barons waved over its unconquered walls. In truth, the
+Italians employed half their time in brawls amongst themselves; the
+Velletritrani had feuds with the people of Tivoli, and the Romans were
+still afraid of conquering the Barons;--“The hornet,” said they, “stings
+worse after he is dead; and neither an Orsini, a Savelli, nor a Colonna,
+was ever known to forgive.”
+
+Again and again had the captains of his army assured the indignant
+Senator that the fortress was impregnable, and that time and money were
+idly wasted upon the siege. Rienzi knew better, but he concealed his
+thoughts.
+
+He now summoned to his tent the brothers of Provence, and announced
+to them his intention of returning instantly to Rome. “The mercenaries
+shall continue the siege under our Lieutenant, and you, with my Roman
+Legion, shall accompany me. Your brother, Sir Walter, and I, both want
+your presence; we have affairs to arrange between us. After a few days I
+shall raise recruits in the city, and return.”
+
+This was what the brothers desired; they approved, with evident joy, the
+Senator’s proposition.
+
+Rienzi next sent for the lieutenant of his bodyguard, the same Riccardo
+Annibaldi whom the reader will remember in the earlier part of this
+work, as the antagonist of Montreal’s lance. This young man--one of
+the few nobles who espoused the cause of the Senator--had evinced great
+courage and military ability, and promised fair (should Fate spare his
+life (It appears that this was the same Annibaldi who was afterwards
+slain in an affray:--Petrarch lauds his valour and laments his fate.))
+to become one of the best Captains of his time.
+
+“Dear Annibaldi,” said Rienzi; “at length I can fulfil the project
+on which we have privately conferred. I take with me to Rome the two
+Provencal Captains--I leave you chief of the army. Palestrina will yield
+now--eh!--ha, ha, ha!--Palestrina will yield now!”
+
+“By my right hand, I think so, Senator,” replied Annibaldi. “These
+foreigners have hitherto only stirred up quarrels amongst ourselves, and
+if not cowards are certainly traitors!”
+
+“Hush, hush, hush! Traitors! The learned Arimbaldo, the brave Brettone,
+traitors! Fie on it! No, no; they are very excellent, honourable men,
+but not lucky in the camp;--not lucky in the camp;--better speed to them
+in the city! And now to business.”
+
+The Senator then detailed to Annibaldi the plan he himself had formed
+for taking the town, and the military skill of Annibaldi at once
+recognised its feasibility.
+
+With his Roman troop, and Montreal’s brothers, one at either hand,
+Rienzi then departed to Rome.
+
+That night Montreal gave a banquet to Pandulfo di Guido, and to certain
+of the principal citizens, whom one by one he had already sounded, and
+found hollow at heart to the cause of the Senator.
+
+Pandulfo sate at the right hand of the Knight of St. John, and Montreal
+lavished upon him the most courteous attentions.
+
+“Pledge me in this--it is from the Vale of Chiana, near Monte Pulciano,”
+ said Montreal. “I think I have heard bookmen say (you know, Signor
+Pandulfo, we ought all to be bookmen now!) that the site was renowned of
+old. In truth, the wine hath a racy flavour.”
+
+“I hear,” said Bruttini, one of the lesser Barons, (a stanch friend
+to the Colonna,) “that in this respect the innkeeper’s son has put his
+book-learning to some use: he knows every place where the wine grows
+richest.”
+
+“What! the Senator is turned wine-bibber!” said Montreal, quaffing a
+vast goblet full; “that must unfit him for business--‘tis a pity.”
+
+“Verily, yes,” said Pandulfo; “a man at the head of a state should be
+temperate--I never drink wine unmixed.”
+
+“Ah,” whispered Montreal, “if your calm good sense ruled Rome,
+then, indeed, the metropolis of Italy might taste of peace. Signor
+Vivaldi,”--and the host turned towards a wealthy draper,--“these
+disturbances are bad for trade.”
+
+“Very, very!” groaned the draper.
+
+“The Barons are your best customers,” quoth the minor noble.
+
+“Much, much!” said the draper.
+
+“‘Tis a pity that they are thus roughly expelled,” said Montreal, in a
+melancholy tone. “Would it not be possible, if the Senator (I drink
+his health) were less rash--less zealous, rather,--to unite free
+institutions with the return of the Barons?--such should be the task of
+a truly wise statesman!”
+
+“It surely might be possible,” returned Vivaldi; “the Savelli alone
+spend more with me than all the rest of Rome.”
+
+“I know not if it be possible,” said Bruttini; “but I do know that it is
+an outrage to all decorum that an innkeeper’s son should be enabled to
+make a solitude of the palaces of Rome.”
+
+“It certainly seems to indicate too vulgar a desire of mob favour,” said
+Montreal. “However, I trust we shall harmonize all these differences.
+Rienzi, perhaps,--nay, doubtless, means well!”
+
+“I would,” said Vivaldi, who had received his cue, “that we might form
+a mixed constitution--Plebeians and Patricians, each in their separate
+order.”
+
+“But,” said Montreal, gravely, “so new an experiment would demand great
+physical force.”
+
+“Why, true; but we might call in an umpire--a foreigner who had no
+interest in either faction--who might protect the new Buono Stato; a
+Podesta, as we have done before--Brancaleone, for instance. How well
+and wisely he ruled! that was a golden age for Rome. A Podesta for
+ever!--that’s my theory.”
+
+“You need not seek far for the president of your council,” said
+Montreal, smiling at Pandulfo; “a citizen at once popular, well-born,
+and wealthy, may be found at my right hand.”
+
+Pandulfo hemmed, and coloured.
+
+Montreal proceeded. “A committee of trades might furnish an honourable
+employment to Signor Vivaldi; and the treatment of all foreign
+affairs--the employment of armies, &c., might be left to the Barons,
+with a more open competition, Signor di Bruttini, to the Barons of
+the second order than has hitherto been conceded to their birth and
+importance. Sirs, will you taste the Malvoisie?”
+
+“Still,” said Vivaldi, after a pause--(Vivaldi anticipated at least the
+supplying with cloth the whole of the Grand Company)--“still, such a
+moderate and well-digested constitution would never be acceded to by
+Rienzi.”
+
+“Why should it? what need of Rienzi?” exclaimed Bruttini. “Rienzi may
+take another trip to Bohemia.”
+
+“Gently, gently,” said Montreal; “I do not despair. All open violence
+against the Senator would strengthen his power. No, no, humble
+him--admit the Barons, and then insist on your own terms. Between the
+two factions you might then establish a fitting balance. And in order
+to keep your new constitution from the encroachment of either extreme,
+there are warriors and knights, too, who for a certain rank in the
+great city of Rome would maintain horse and foot at its service.
+We Ultra-Montanes are often harshly judged; we are wanderers and
+Ishmaelites, solely because we have no honourable place of rest. Now, if
+I--”
+
+“Ay, if you, noble Montreal!” said Vivaldi.
+
+The company remained hushed in breathless attention, when suddenly there
+was heard--deep, solemn, muffled,--the great bell of the Capitol!
+
+“Hark!” said Vivaldi, the bell: “It tolls for execution: an unwonted
+hour!”
+
+“Sure, the Senator has not returned!” exclaimed Pandulfo di Guido,
+turning pale.
+
+“No, no,” quoth Bruttini, “it is but a robber, caught two nights ago in
+Romagna. I heard that he was to die tonight.”
+
+At the word “robber,” Montreal changed countenance slightly. The wine
+circulated--the bell continued to toll--its suddenness over, it ceased
+to alarm. Conversation flowed again.
+
+“What were you saying, Sir Knight?” said Vivaldi.
+
+“Why, let me think on’t;--oh, speaking of the necessity of supporting a
+new state by force, I said that if I--”
+
+“Ah, that was it!” quoth Bruttini, thumping the table.
+
+“If I were summoned to your aid--summoned, mind ye, and absolved by the
+Pope’s Legate of my former sins--(they weigh heavily on me, gentles)--I
+would myself guard your city from foreign foe and civil disturbance,
+with my gallant swordsmen. Not a Roman citizen should contribute a
+‘danaro’ to the cost.”
+
+“Viva Fra Moreale!” cried Bruttini; and the shout was echoed by all the
+boon companions.
+
+“Enough for me,” continued Montreal, “to expiate my offences. Ye know,
+gentlemen, my order is vowed to God and the Church--a warrior-monk am I!
+Enough for me to expiate my offences, I say, in the defence of the Holy
+City. Yet I, too, have my private and more earthly views,--who is above
+them? I--the bell changes its note!”
+
+“It is but the change that preludes execution--the poor robber is about
+to die!”
+
+Montreal crossed himself, and resumed:--“I am a knight and a noble,”
+ said he, proudly; “the profession I have followed is that of arms;
+but--I will not disguise it--mine equals have regarded me as one who has
+stained his scutcheon by too reckless a pursuit of glory and of gain.
+I wish to reconcile myself with my order--to purchase a new name--to
+vindicate myself to the Grand Master and the Pontiff. I have had hints,
+gentles,--hints, that I might best promote my interest by restoring
+order to the Papal metropolis. The Legate Albornoz (here is his letter)
+recommends me to keep watch upon the Senator.”
+
+“Surely,” interrupted Pandulfo, “I hear steps below.”
+
+“The mob going to the robber’s execution,” said Bruttini; “proceed, Sir
+Knight!”
+
+“And,” continued Montreal, surveying his audience before he proceeded
+farther, “what think ye--(I do but ask your opinion, wiser than
+mine)--what think ye, as a fitting precaution against too arbitrary a
+power in the Senator--what think ye of the return of the Colonna, and
+the bold Barons of Palestrina?”
+
+“Here’s to their health!” cried Vivaldi, rising.
+
+As by a sudden impulse, the company rose. “To the health of the besieged
+Barons!” was shouted aloud.
+
+“Next, what if--(I do but humbly suggest)--what if you gave the Senator
+a colleague?--it is no affront to him. It was but as yesterday that
+one of the Colonna, who was Senator, received a colleague in Bertoldo
+Orsini.”
+
+“A most wise precaution,” cried Vivaldi. “And where a colleague like
+Pandulfo di Guido?”
+
+“Viva Pandulfo di Guido!” cried the guests, and again their goblets were
+drained to the bottom.
+
+“And if in this I can assist ye by fair words with the Senator, (ye
+know he owes me monies--my brothers have served him), command Walter de
+Montreal.”
+
+“And if fair words fail?” said Vivaldi.
+
+“The Grand Company--(heed me, ye are the counsellors)--the Grand Company
+is accustomed to forced marches!”
+
+“Viva Fra Moreale!” cried Bruttini and Vivaldi, simultaneously. “A
+health to all, my friends;” continued Bruttini; “a health to the Barons,
+Rome’s old friends; to Pandulfo di Guido, the Senator’s new colleague,
+and to Fra Moreale, Rome’s new Podesta.”
+
+“The bell has ceased,” said Vivaldi, putting down his goblet.
+
+“Heaven have mercy on the robber!” added Bruttini.
+
+Scarce had he spoken, ere three taps were heard at the door--the guests
+looked at each other in dumb amaze.
+
+“New guests!” said Montreal. “I asked some trusty friends to join us
+this evening. By my faith they are welcome! Enter!”
+
+The door opened slowly; three by three entered, in complete armour, the
+guards of the Senator. On they marched, regular and speechless. They
+surrounded the festive board--they filled the spacious hall, and the
+lights of the banquet were reflected upon their corselets as on a wall
+of steel.
+
+Not a syllable was uttered by the feasters, they were as if turned to
+stone. Presently the guards gave way, and Rienzi himself appeared. He
+approached the table, and folding his arms, turned his gaze deliberately
+from guest to guest, till at last, his eyes rested on Montreal, who had
+also risen, and who alone of the party had recovered the amaze of the
+moment.
+
+And there, as these two men, each so celebrated, so proud, able, and
+ambitious, stood, front to front--it was literally as if the rival
+Spirits of Force and Intellect, Order and Strife, of the Falchion and
+the Fasces--the Antagonist Principles by which empires are ruled and
+empires overthrown, had met together, incarnate and opposed. They
+stood, both silent,--as if fascinated by each other’s gaze,--loftier in
+stature, and nobler in presence than all around.
+
+Montreal spoke first, and with a forced smile.
+
+“Senator of Rome!--dare I believe that my poor banquet tempts thee, and
+may I trust that these armed men are a graceful compliment to one to
+whom arms have been a pastime?”
+
+Rienzi answered not, but waved his hand to his guards. Montreal was
+seized on the instant. Again he surveyed the guests--as a bird from the
+rattle-snake,--shrunk Pandulfo di Guido, trembling, motionless, aghast,
+from the glittering eye of the Senator. Slowly Rienzi raised his
+fatal hand towards the unhappy citizen--Pandulfo saw,--felt his
+doom,--shrieked,--and fell senseless in the arms of the soldiers.
+
+One other and rapid glance cast the Senator round the board, and then,
+with a disdainful smile, as if anxious for no meaner prey, turned away.
+Not a breath had hitherto passed his lips--all had been dumb
+show--and his grim silence had imparted a more freezing terror to his
+unguessed-for apparition. Only, when he reached the door, he turned
+back, gazed upon the Knight of St. John’s bold and undaunted face,
+and said, almost in a whisper, “Walter de Montreal!--you heard the
+death-knell!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 10.IV. The Sentence of Walter de Montreal.
+
+In silence the Captain of the Grand Company was borne to the prison of
+the Capitol. In the same building lodged the rivals for the government
+of Rome; the one occupied the prison, the other the palace. The guards
+forebore the ceremony of fetters, and leaving a lamp on the table,
+Montreal perceived he was not alone,--his brothers had preceded him.
+
+“Ye are happily met,” said the Knight of St. John; “we have passed
+together pleasanter nights than this is likely to be.”
+
+“Can you jest, Walter?” said Arimbaldo, half-weeping. “Know you not that
+our doom is fixed? Death scowls upon us.”
+
+“Death!” repeated Montreal, and for the first time his countenance
+changed; perhaps for the first time in his life he felt the thrill and
+agony of fear.
+
+“Death!” he repeated again. “Impossible! He dare not, Brettone; the
+soldiers, the Northmen!--they will mutiny, they will pluck us back from
+the grasp of the headsman!”
+
+“Cast from you so vain a hope,” said Brettone sullenly; “the soldiers
+are encamped at Palestrina.”
+
+“How! Dolt--fool! Came you then to Rome alone! Are we alone with this
+dread man?”
+
+“You are the dolt! Why came you hither?” answered the brother.
+
+“Why, indeed! but that I knew thou wast the Captain of the army;
+and--but thou said’st right--the folly is mine, to have played against
+the crafty Tribune so unequal a brain as thine. Enough! Reproaches are
+idle. When were ye arrested?”
+
+“At dusk--the instant we entered the gates of Rome. Rienzi entered
+privately.”
+
+“Humph! What can he know against me? Who can have betrayed me? My
+secretaries are tried--all trustworthy--except that youth, and he so
+seemingly zealous--that Angelo Villani!”
+
+“Villani! Angelo Villani!” cried the brothers in a breath. “Hast thou
+confided aught to him?”
+
+“Why, I fear he must have seen--at least in part--my correspondence with
+you, and with the Barons--he was among my scribes. Know you aught of
+him?”
+
+“Walter, Heaven hath demented you!” returned Brettone. “Angelo Villani
+is the favourite menial of the Senator.”
+
+“Those eyes deceived me, then,” muttered Montreal, solemnly and
+shuddering; “and, as if her ghost had returned to earth, God smites me
+from the grave!”
+
+There was a long silence. At length Montreal, whose bold and sanguine
+temper was never long clouded, spoke again.
+
+“Are the Senator’s coffers full?--But that is impossible.”
+
+“Bare as a Dominican’s.”
+
+“We are saved, then. He shall name his price for our heads. Money must
+be more useful to him than blood.”
+
+And as if with that thought all further meditation were rendered
+unnecessary, Montreal doffed his mantle, uttered a short prayer, and
+flung himself on a pallet in a corner of the cell.
+
+“I have slept on worse beds,” said the Knight, stretching himself; and
+in a few minutes he was fast asleep.
+
+The brothers listened to his deep-drawn, but regular breathing, with
+envy and wonder, but they were in no mood to converse. Still and
+speechless, they sate like statues beside the sleeper. Time passed
+on, and the first cold air of the hour that succeeds to midnight crept
+through the bars of their cell. The bolts crashed, the door opened,
+six men-at-arms entered, passed the brothers, and one of them touched
+Montreal.
+
+“Ha!” said he, still sleeping, but turning round. “Ha!” said he, in the
+soft Provencal tongue, “sweet Adeline, we will not rise yet--it is so
+long since we met!”
+
+“What says he?” muttered the guard, shaking Montreal roughly. The Knight
+sprang up at once, and his hand grasped the head of his bed as for his
+sword. He stared round bewildered, rubbed his eyes, and then gazing on
+the guard, became alive to the present.
+
+“Ye are early risers in the Capitol,” said he. “What want ye of me?”
+
+“It waits you!”
+
+“It! What?” said Montreal.
+
+“The rack!” replied the soldier, with a malignant scowl.
+
+The Great Captain said not a word. He looked for one moment at the six
+swordsmen, as if measuring his single strength against theirs. His eye
+then wandered round the room. The rudest bar of iron would have been
+dearer to him than he had ever yet found the proofest steel of Milan. He
+completed his survey with a sigh, threw his mantle over his shoulders,
+nodded at his brethren, and followed the guard.
+
+In a hall of the Capitol, hung with the ominous silk of white rays on a
+blood-red ground, sate Rienzi and his councillors. Across a recess was
+drawn a black curtain.
+
+“Walter de Montreal,” said a small man at the foot of the table, “Knight
+of the illustrious order of St. John of Jerusalem--”
+
+“And Captain of the Grand Company!” added the prisoner, in a firm voice.
+
+“You stand accused of divers counts: robbery and murder, in Tuscany,
+Romagna, and Apulia--”
+
+“For robbery and murder, brave men, and belted Knights,” said Montreal,
+drawing himself up, “would use the words ‘war and victory.’ To those
+charges I plead guilty! Proceed.”
+
+“You are next accused of treasonable conspiracy against the liberties
+of Rome for the restoration of the proscribed Barons--and of traitorous
+correspondence with Stefanello Colonna at Palestrina.”
+
+“My accuser?”
+
+“Step forth, Angelo Villani!”
+
+“You are my betrayer, then?” said Montreal steadily. “I deserved this.
+I beseech you, Senator of Rome, let this young man retire. I confess my
+correspondence with the Colonna, and my desire to restore the Barons.”
+
+Rienzi motioned to Villani, who bowed and withdrew.
+
+“There rests only then for you, Walter de Montreal, to relate, fully and
+faithfully, the details of your conspiracy.”
+
+“That is impossible,” replied Montreal, carelessly.
+
+“And why?”
+
+“Because, doing as I please with my own life, I will not betray the
+lives of others.”
+
+“Bethink thee--thou wouldst have betrayed the life of thy judge!”
+
+“Not betrayed--thou didst not trust me.”
+
+“The law, Walter de Montreal, hath sharp inquisitors--behold!”
+
+The black curtain was drawn aside, and the eye of Montreal rested on the
+executioner and the rack! His proud breast heaved indignantly.
+
+“Senator of Rome,” said he, “these instruments are for serfs and
+villeins. I have been a warrior and a leader; life and death have been
+in my hands--I have used them as I listed; but to mine equal and my foe,
+I never proffered the insult of the rack.”
+
+“Sir Walter de Montreal,” returned the Senator, gravely, but with some
+courteous respect, “your answer is that which rises naturally to the
+lips of brave men. But learn from me, whom fortune hath made thy judge,
+that no more for serf and villein, than for knight and noble, are such
+instruments the engines of law, or the tests of truth. I yielded but to
+the desire of these reverend councillors, to test thy nerves. But, wert
+thou the meanest peasant of the Campagna, before my judgment-seat
+thou needst not apprehend the torture. Walter de Montreal, amongst the
+Princes of Italy thou hast known, amongst the Roman Barons thou wouldst
+have aided, is there one who could make that boast?”
+
+“I desired only,” said Montreal, with some hesitation, “to unite the
+Barons with thee; nor did I intrigue against thy life!”
+
+Rienzi frowned--“Enough,” he said, hastily. “Knight of St. John, I know
+thy secret projects, subterfuge and evasion neither befit nor avail
+thee. If thou didst not intrigue against my life, thou didst intrigue
+against the life of Rome. Thou hast but one favour left to demand on
+earth, it is the manner of thy death.”
+
+Montreal’s lip worked convulsively.
+
+“Senator,” said he, in a low voice, “may I crave audience with thee
+alone for one minute?”
+
+The councillors looked up.
+
+“My Lord,” whispered the eldest of them, “doubtless he hath concealed
+weapons--trust him not.”
+
+“Prisoner,” returned Rienzi, after a moment’s pause; “if thou seekest
+for mercy thy request is idle, and before my coadjutors I have no
+secret; speak out what thou hast to say!”
+
+“Yet listen to me,” said the prisoner, folding his arms; “it concerns
+not my life, but Rome’s welfare.”
+
+“Then,” said Rienzi, in an altered tone, “thy request is granted. Thou
+mayst add to thy guilt the design of the assassin, but for Rome I would
+dare greater danger.”
+
+So saying, he motioned to the councillors, who slowly withdrew by
+the door which had admitted Villani, while the guards retired to the
+farthest extremity of the hall.
+
+“Now, Walter de Montreal, be brief, for thy time is short.”
+
+“Senator,” said Montreal, “my life can but little profit you; men will
+say that you destroyed your creditor in order to cancel your debt. Fix a
+sum upon my life, estimate it at the price of a monarch’s; every florin
+shall be paid to you, and your treasury will be filled for five years
+to come. If the ‘Buono Stato’ depends on your government, what I have
+asked, your solicitude for Rome will not permit you to refuse.”
+
+“You mistake me, bold robber,” said Rienzi, sternly; “your treason I
+could guard against, and therefore forgive; your ambition, never! Mark
+me, I know you! Place your hand on your heart and say whether, could
+we change places, you, as Rienzi, would suffer all the gold of earth
+to purchase the life of Walter de Montreal? For men’s reading of my
+conduct, that must I bear; for mine own reading, mine eyes must be
+purged from corruption. I am answerable to God for the trust of Rome.
+And Rome trembles while the head of the Grand Company lives in the
+plotting brain and the daring heart of Walter de Montreal. Man--wealthy,
+great, and subtle as you are, your hours are numbered; with the rise of
+the sun you die!”
+
+Montreal’s eyes, fixed upon the Senator’s face, saw hope was over; his
+pride and his fortitude returned to him.
+
+“We have wasted words,” said he. “I played for a great stake, I have
+lost, and must pay the forfeit! I am prepared. On the threshold of the
+Unknown World, the dark spirit of prophecy rushes into us. Lord Senator,
+I go before thee to announce--that in Heaven or in Hell--ere many days
+be over, room must be given to one mightier than I am!”
+
+As he spoke, his form dilated, his eye glared; and Rienzi, cowering as
+never had he cowered before, shrunk back, and shaded his face with his
+hand.
+
+“The manner of your death?” he asked, in a hollow voice.
+
+“The axe: it is that which befits knight and warrior. For thee, Senator,
+Fate hath a less noble death.”
+
+“Robber be dumb!” cried Rienzi, passionately; “Guards, bear back the
+prisoner. At sunrise, Montreal--”
+
+“Sets the sun of the scourge of Italy,” said the Knight, bitterly. “Be
+it so. One request more; the Knights of St. John claim affinity with the
+Augustine order; grant me an Augustine confessor.”
+
+“It is granted; and in return for thy denunciations, I, who can give
+thee no earthly mercy, will implore the Judge of all for pardon to thy
+soul!”
+
+“Senator, I have done with man’s mediation. My brethren? Their deaths
+are not necessary to thy safety or thy revenge!”
+
+Rienzi mused a moment: “No,” said he, “dangerous tools they were, but
+without the workman they may rust unharming. They served me once, too.
+Prisoner, their lives are spared.”
+
+
+
+Chapter 10.V. The Discovery.
+
+The Council was broken up--Rienzi hastened to his own apartments.
+Meeting Villani by the way, he pressed the youth’s hand affectionately.
+“You have saved Rome and me from great peril,” said he; “the saints
+reward you!” Without tarrying for Villani’s answer, he hurried on. Nina,
+anxious and perturbed, awaited him in their chamber.
+
+“Not a-bed yet?” said he: “fie, Nina, even thy beauty will not stand
+these vigils.”
+
+“I could not rest till I had seen thee. I hear (all Rome has heard it
+ere this) that thou hast seized Walter de Montreal, and that he will
+perish by the headsman.”
+
+“The first robber that ever died so brave a death,” returned Rienzi,
+slowly unrobing himself.
+
+“Cola, I have never crossed your schemes,--your policy, even by a
+suggestion. Enough for me to triumph in their success, to mourn for
+their failure. Now, I ask thee one request--spare me the life of this
+man.”
+
+“Nina--”
+
+“Hear me,--for thee I speak! Despite his crimes, his valour and his
+genius have gained him admirers, even amongst his foes. Many a prince,
+many a state that secretly rejoices at his fall, will affect horror
+against his judge. Hear me farther. His brothers aided your return;
+the world will term you ungrateful. His brothers lent you monies, the
+world--(out on it!)--will term you--”
+
+“Hold!” interrupted the Senator. “All that thou sayest, my mind
+forestalled. But thou knowest me--to thee I have no disguise. No compact
+can bind Montreal’s faith--no mercy win his gratitude. Before his red
+right hand truth and justice are swept away. If I condemn Montreal I
+incur disgrace and risk danger--granted. If I release him, ere the first
+showers of April, the chargers of the Northmen will neigh in the halls
+of the Capitol. Which shall I hazard in this alternative, myself or
+Rome? Ask me no more--to bed, to bed!”
+
+“Couldst thou read my forebodings, Cola, mystic--gloomy--unaccountable?”
+
+“Forebodings!--I have mine,” answered Rienzi, sadly, gazing on space,
+as if his thoughts peopled it with spectres. Then, raising his eyes to
+Heaven, he said with that fanatical energy which made much both of his
+strength and weakness--“Lord, mine at least not the sin of Saul! the
+Amalekite shall not be saved!”
+
+While Rienzi enjoyed a short, troubled, and restless sleep, over which
+Nina watched--unslumbering, anxious, tearful, and oppressed with dark
+and terrible forewarnings--the accuser was more happy than the judge.
+The last thoughts that floated before the young mind of Angelo Villani,
+ere wrapped in sleep, were bright and sanguine. He felt no honourable
+remorse that he had entrapped the confidence of another--he felt only
+that his scheme had prospered, that his mission had been fulfilled.
+The grateful words of Rienzi rang in his ear, and hopes of fortune and
+power, beneath the sway of the Roman Senator, lulled him into slumber,
+and coloured all his dreams.
+
+Scarce, however, had he been two hours asleep, ere he was wakened by one
+of the attendants of the palace, himself half awake. “Pardon me, Messere
+Villani,” said he, “but there is a messenger below from the good Sister
+Ursula; he bids thee haste instantly to the Convent--she is sick unto
+death, and has tidings that crave thy immediate presence.”
+
+Angelo, whose morbid susceptibility as to his parentage was ever excited
+by vague but ambitious hopes--started up, dressed hurriedly, and joining
+the messenger below, repaired to the Convent. In the Court of the
+Capitol, and by the Staircase of the Lion, was already heard the noise
+of the workmen, and looking back, Villani beheld the scaffold, hung with
+black--sleeping cloudlike in the grey light of dawn--at the same time,
+the bell of the Capitol tolled heavily. A pang shot athwart him. He
+hurried on;--despite the immature earliness of the hour, he met groups
+of either sex, hastening along the streets to witness the execution
+of the redoubted Captain of the Grand Company. The Convent of the
+Augustines was at the farthest extremity of that city, even then so
+extensive, and the red light upon the hilltops already heralded the
+rising sun, ere the young man reached the venerable porch. His name
+obtained him instant admittance.
+
+“Heaven grant,” said an old Nun, who conducted him through a long and
+winding passage, “that thou mayst bring comfort to the sick sister: she
+has pined for thee grievously since matins.”
+
+In a cell set apart for the reception of visitors (from the
+outward world), to such of the Sisterhood as received the necessary
+dispensation, sate the aged Nun. Angelo had only seen her once since his
+return to Rome, and since then disease had made rapid havoc on her form
+and features. And now, in her shroudlike garments and attenuated frame,
+she seemed by the morning light as a spectre whom day had surprised
+above the earth. She approached the youth, however, with a motion more
+elastic and rapid than seemed possible to her worn and ghastly form.
+“Thou art come,” she said. “Well, well! This morning after matins, my
+confessor, an Augustine, who alone knows the secrets of my life, took
+me aside, and told me that Walter de Montreal had been seized by the
+Senator--that he was adjudged to die, and that one of the Augustine
+brotherhood had been sent for to attend his last hours--is it so?”
+
+“Thou wert told aright,” said Angelo, wonderingly. “The man at whose
+name thou wert wont to shudder--against whom thou hast so often warned
+me--will die at sunrise.”
+
+“So soon!--so soon!--Oh, Mother of Mercy!--fly! thou art about the
+person of the Senator, thou hast high favour with him; fly! down on thy
+knees, and as thou hopest for God’s grace, rise not till thou hast won
+the Provencal’s life.”
+
+“She raves,” muttered Angelo, with white lips.
+
+“I do not rave,--boy!” screeched the Sister, wildly, “know that my
+daughter was his leman. He disgraced our house,--a house haughtier than
+his own. Sinner that I was, I vowed revenge. His boy--they had only
+one!--was brought up in a robber’s camp;--a life of bloodshed--a death
+of doom--a futurity of hell--were before him. I plucked the child from
+such a fate--I bore him away--I told the father he was dead--I placed
+him in the path to honourable fortunes. May my sin be forgiven me!
+Angelo Villani, thou art that child;--Walter de Montreal is thy father.
+But now, trembling on the verge of death, I shudder at the vindictive
+thoughts I once nourished. Perhaps--”
+
+“Sinner and accursed!” interrupted Villani, with a loud shout:--“sinner
+and accursed thou art indeed! Know that it was I who betrayed thy
+daughter’s lover!--by the son’s treason dies the father!”
+
+Not a moment more did he tarry: he waited not to witness the effect
+his words produced. As one frantic--as one whom a fiend possesses
+or pursues--he rushed from the Convent--he flew through the desolate
+streets. The death-bell came, first indistinct, then loud, upon his ear.
+Every sound seemed to him like the curse of God; on--on--he passed the
+more deserted quarter--crowds swept before him--he was mingled with
+the living stream, delayed, pushed back--thousands on thousands around,
+before him. Breathless, gasping, he still pressed on--he forced his
+way--he heard not--he saw not--all was like a dream. Up burst the sun
+over the distant hills!--the bell ceased! From right to left he pushed
+aside the crowd--his strength was as a giant’s. He neared the fatal
+spot. A dead hush lay like a heavy air over the multitude. He heard
+a voice, as he pressed along, deep and clear--it was the voice of his
+father!--it ceased--the audience breathed heavily--they murmured--they
+swayed to and fro. On, on, went Angelo Villani. The guards of the
+Senator stopped his way;--he dashed aside their pikes--he eluded their
+grasp--he pierced the armed barrier--he stood on the Place of the
+Capitol. “Hold, hold!” he would have cried--but horror struck him dumb.
+He beheld the gleaming axe--he saw the bended neck. Ere another breath
+passed his lips, a ghastly and trunkless face was raised on high--Walter
+de Montreal was no more!
+
+Villani saw--swooned not--shrunk not--breathed not!--but he turned his
+eyes from that lifted head, dropping gore, to the balcony, in which,
+according to custom, sate, in solemn pomp, the Senator of Rome--and the
+face of that young man was as the face of a demon!
+
+“Ha!” said he, muttering to himself, and recalling the words of Rienzi
+seven years before--“Blessed art thou who hast no blood of kindred to
+avenge!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 10.VI. The Suspense.
+
+Walter de Montreal was buried in the church of St. Maria dell’ Araceli.
+But the “evil that he did lived after him!” Although the vulgar
+had, until his apprehension, murmured against Rienzi for allowing so
+notorious a freebooter to be at large, he was scarcely dead ere they
+compassionated the object of their terror. With that singular species of
+piety which Montreal had always cultivated, as if a decorous and natural
+part of the character of a warrior, no sooner was his sentence fixed,
+than he had surrendered himself to the devout preparation for death.
+With the Augustine Friar he consumed the brief remainder of the night
+in prayer and confession, comforted his brothers, and passed to the
+scaffold with the step of a hero and the self-acquittal of a martyr. In
+the wonderful delusions of the human heart, far from feeling remorse at
+a life of professional rapine and slaughter, almost the last words
+of the brave warrior were in proud commendation of his own deeds. “Be
+valiant like me,” he said to his brothers, “and remember that ye are now
+the heirs to the Humbler of Apulia, Tuscany, and La Marca.”
+
+     (Pregovi che vi amiate e siate valorosi al mondo, come fui
+     io, che mi feci fare obbedienza a la Puglia, Toscana, e a La
+     Marca.”--“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. ii. cap. 22. “I pray
+     you love one another, and be valorous as was I, who made
+     Apulia, Tuscany and La Marca own obedience to me.”--“Life of
+     Cola di Rienzi”.)
+
+This confidence in himself continued at the scaffold. “I die,” he said,
+addressing the Romans--“I die contented, since my bones shall rest in
+the Holy City of St. Peter and St. Paul, and the Soldier of Christ shall
+have the burial-place of the Apostles. But I die unjustly. My wealth is
+my crime--the poverty of your state my accuser. Senator of Rome,
+thou mayst envy my last hour--men like Walter de Montreal perish not
+unavenged.” So saying, he turned to the East, murmured a brief prayer,
+knelt down deliberately, and said as to himself, “Rome guard my
+ashes!--Earth my memory--Fate my revenge;--and, now, Heaven receive my
+soul!--Strike!” At the first blow, the head was severed from the body.
+
+His treason but imperfectly known, the fear of him forgotten, all that
+remained of the recollection of Walter de Montreal (The military renown
+and bold exploits of Montreal are acknowledged by all the Italian
+authorities. One of them declares that since the time of Caesar, Italy
+had never known so great a Captain. The biographer of Rienzi, forgetting
+all the offences of the splendid and knightly robber, seems to feel only
+commiseration for his fate. He informs us, moreover, that at Tivoli
+one of his servants (perhaps our friend, Rodolf of Saxony), hearing his
+death, died of grief the following day.) in Rome, was admiration for
+his heroism, and compassion for his end. The fate of Pandulfo di Guido,
+which followed some days afterwards, excited a yet deeper, though more
+quiet, sentiment, against the Senator. “He was once Rienzi’s friend!”
+ said one man; “He was an honest, upright citizen!” muttered another;
+“He was an advocate of the people!” growled Cecco del Vecchio. But the
+Senator had wound himself up to a resolve to be inflexibly just, and to
+regard every peril to Rome as became a Roman. Rienzi remembered that he
+had never confided but he had been betrayed; he had never forgiven but
+to sharpen enmity. He was amidst a ferocious people, uncertain friends,
+wily enemies; and misplaced mercy would be but a premium to conspiracy.
+Yet the struggle he underwent was visible in the hysterical emotions he
+betrayed. He now wept bitterly, now laughed wildly. “Can I never again
+have the luxury to forgive?” said he. The coarse spectators of that
+passion deemed it,--some imbecility, some hypocrisy. But the execution
+produced the momentary effect intended. All sedition ceased, terror
+crept throughout the city, order and peace rose to the surface; but
+beneath, in the strong expression of a contemporaneous writer, “Lo
+mormorito quetamente suonava.” (“The murmur quietly sounded.”)
+
+On examining dispassionately the conduct of Rienzi at this awful period
+of his life, it is scarcely possible to condemn it of a single error
+in point of policy. Cured of his faults, he exhibited no unnecessary
+ostentation--he indulged in no exhibitions of intoxicated pride--that
+gorgeous imagination rather than vanity, which had led the Tribune into
+spectacle and pomp, was now lulled to rest, by the sober memory of grave
+vicissitudes, and the stern calmness of a maturer intellect. Frugal,
+provident, watchful, self-collected, ‘never was seen,’ observes no
+partial witness, ‘so extraordinary a man.’ (“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”,
+lib. ii. c. 23.) ‘In him was concentrated every thought for every want
+of Rome. Indefatigably occupied, he inspected, ordained, regulated all
+things; in the city, in the army, for peace, or for war. But he was
+feebly supported, and those he employed were lukewarm and lethargic.’
+Still his arms prospered. Place after place, fortress after fortress,
+yielded to the Lieutenant of the Senator: and the cession of Palestrina
+itself was hourly expected. His art and address were always strikingly
+exhibited in difficult situations, and the reader cannot fail to have
+noticed how conspicuously they were displayed in delivering himself from
+the iron tutelage of his foreign mercenaries. Montreal executed, his
+brothers imprisoned, (though their lives were spared,) a fear that
+induced respect was stricken into the breasts of those bandit soldiers.
+Removed from Rome, and, under Annibaldi, engaged against the Barons,
+constant action and constant success, withheld those necessary fiends
+from falling on their Master; while Rienzi, willing to yield to the
+natural antipathy of the Romans, thus kept the Northmen from all contact
+with the city; and as he boasted, was the only chief in Italy who
+reigned in his palace guarded only by his citizens.
+
+Despite his perilous situation--despite his suspicions, and his fears,
+no wanton cruelty stained his stern justice--Montreal and Pandulfo di
+Guido were the only state victims he demanded. If, according to the
+dark Machiavelism of Italian wisdom, the death of those enemies was
+impolitic, it was not in the act, but the mode of doing it. A prince
+of Bologna, or of Milan would have avoided the sympathy excited by
+the scaffold, and the drug or the dagger would have been the safer
+substitute for the axe. But with all his faults, real and imputed, no
+single act of that foul and murtherous policy, which made the science
+of the more fortunate princes of Italy, ever advanced the ambition or
+promoted the security of the Last of the Roman Tribunes. Whatever his
+errors, he lived and died as became a man, who dreamed the vain but
+glorious dream, that in a corrupt and dastard populace he could revive
+the genius of the old Republic.
+
+Of all who attended on the Senator, the most assiduous and the most
+honoured was still Angelo Villani. Promoted to a high civil station,
+Rienzi felt it as a return of youth, to find one person entitled to his
+gratitude;--he loved and confided in the youth as a son. Villani was
+never absent from his side, except in intercourse with the various
+popular leaders in the various quarters of the city; and in this
+intercourse his zeal was indefatigable--it seemed even to prey upon
+his health; and Rienzi chid him fondly, whenever starting from his own
+reveries, he beheld the abstracted eye and the livid paleness which had
+succeeded the sparkle and bloom of youth.
+
+Such chiding the young man answered only by the same unvarying words.
+
+“Senator, I have a great trust to fulfil;”--and at these words he
+smiled.
+
+One day Villani, while with the Senator, said rather abruptly, “Do you
+remember, my Lord, that before Viterbo, I acquitted myself so in arms,
+that even the Cardinal d’Albornoz was pleased to notice me?”
+
+“I remember your valour well, Angelo; but why the question?”
+
+“My Lord, Bellini, the Captain of the Guard of the Capitol is
+dangerously ill.”
+
+“I know it.”
+
+“Whom can my Lord trust at the post?”
+
+“Why, the Lieutenant.”
+
+“What!--a soldier that has served under the Orsini!”
+
+“True. Well! There is Tommaso Filangieri.”
+
+“An excellent man; but is he not kin by blood to Pandulfo di Guido?”
+
+“Ay--is he so? It must be thought of. Hast thou any friend to name?”
+ said the Senator, smiling, “Methinks thy cavils point that way.”
+
+“My Lord,” replied Villani, colouring; “I am too young perhaps; but the
+post is one that demands fidelity more than it does years. Shall I own
+it?--My tastes are rather to serve thee with my sword than with my pen.”
+
+“Wilt thou, indeed, accept the office? It is of less dignity and
+emolument than the one you hold; and you are full young to lead these
+stubborn spirits.”
+
+“Senator, I led taller men than they are to the assault at Viterbo. But,
+be it as seems best to your superior wisdom. Whatever you do, I pray you
+to be cautious. If you select a traitor to the command of the Capitol
+Guard!--I tremble at the thought!”
+
+“By my faith, thou dost turn pale at it, dear boy; thy affection is
+a sweet drop in a bitter draught. Whom can I choose better than
+thee?--thou shalt have the post, at least during Bellini’s illness. I
+will attend to it today. The business, too, will less fatigue thy young
+mind than that which now employs thee. Thou art over-laboured in our
+cause.”
+
+“Senator, I can but repeat my usual answer--I have a great trust to
+fulfil!”
+
+
+
+Chapter 10.VII. The Tax.
+
+These formidable conspiracies quelled, the Barons nearly subdued, and
+three parts of the Papal territory reunited to Rome, Rienzi now
+deemed he might safely execute one of his favourite projects for the
+preservation of the liberties of his native city; and this was to
+raise and organize in each quarter of Rome a Roman Legion. Armed in the
+defence of their own institutions, he thus trusted to establish amongst
+her own citizens the only soldiery requisite for Rome.
+
+But so base were the tools with which this great man was condemned to
+work out his noble schemes, that none could be found to serve their own
+country, without a pay equal to that demanded by foreign hirelings. With
+the insolence so peculiar to a race that has once been great, each Roman
+said, “Am I not better than a German?--Pay me, then, accordingly.”
+
+The Senator smothered his disgust--he had learned at last to know that
+the age of the Catos was no more. From a daring enthusiast, experience
+had converted him into a practical statesman. The Legions were necessary
+to Rome--they were formed--gallant their appearance and faultless
+their caparisons. How were they to be paid? There was but one means to
+maintain Rome--Rome must be taxed. A gabelle was put upon wine and salt.
+
+The Proclamation ran thus:--
+
+“Romans! raised to the rank of your Senator, my whole thought has been
+for your liberties and welfare; already treason defeated in the City,
+our banners triumphant without, attest the favour with which the Deity
+regards men who seek to unite liberty with law. Let us set an example
+to Italy and the World! Let us prove that the Roman sword can guard
+the Roman Forum! In each Rione of the City is provided a Legion of the
+Citizens, collected from the traders and artisans of the town; they
+allege that they cannot leave their callings without remuneration. Your
+senator calls upon you willingly to assist in your own defence. He has
+given you liberty; he has restored to you peace: your oppressors are
+scattered over the earth. He asks you now to preserve the treasures you
+have gained. To be free, you must sacrifice something; for freedom, what
+sacrifice too great? Confident of your support, I at length, for the
+first time, exert the right entrusted to me by office--and for Rome’s
+salvation I tax the Romans!”
+
+Then followed the announcement of the gabelle.
+
+The Proclamation was set up in the public thoroughfares. Round one
+of the placards a crowd assembled. Their gestures were vehement and
+unguarded--their eyes sparkled--they conversed low, but eagerly.
+
+“He dares to tax us, then! Why, the Barons or the Pope could not do more
+than that!”
+
+“Shame! shame!” cried a gaunt female; “we, who were his friends! How are
+our little ones to get bread?”
+
+“He should have seized the Pope’s money!” quoth an honest wine-vender.
+
+“Ah! Pandulfo di Guido would have maintained an army at his own cost. He
+was a rich man. What insolence in the innkeeper’s son to be a Senator!”
+
+“We are not Romans if we suffer this!” said a deserter from Palestrina.
+
+“Fellow-citizens!” exclaimed gruffly a tall man, who had hitherto been
+making a clerk read to him the particulars of the tax imposed, and
+whose heavy brain at length understood that wine was to be made
+dearer--“Fellow-citizens, we must have a new revolution! This is indeed
+gratitude! What have we benefited by restoring this man! Are we always
+to be ground to the dust? To pay--pay--pay! Is that all we are fit for?”
+
+“Hark to Cecco del Vecchio!”
+
+“No, no; not now,” growled the smith. “Tonight the artificers have a
+special meeting. We’ll see--we’ll see!”
+
+A young man, muffled in a cloak, who had not been before observed,
+touched the smith.
+
+“Whoever storms the Capitol the day after tomorrow at the dawn,” he
+whispered, “shall find the guards absent!”
+
+He was gone before the smith could look round.
+
+The same night Rienzi, retiring to rest, said to Angelo Villani--“A bold
+but necessary measure this of mine! How do the people take it?”
+
+“They murmur a little, but seem to recognise the necessity. Cecco del
+Vecchio was the loudest grumbler, but is now the loudest approver.”
+
+“The man is rough; he once deserted me;--but then that fatal
+excommunication! He and the Romans learned a bitter lesson in that
+desertion, and experience has, I trust, taught them to be honest. Well,
+if this tax be raised quietly, in two years Rome will be again the Queen
+of Italy;--her army manned--her Republic formed; and then--then--”
+
+“Then what, Senator?”
+
+“Why then, my Angelo, Cola di Rienzi may die in peace! There is a want
+which a profound experience of power and pomp brings at last to us--a
+want gnawing as that of hunger, wearing as that of sleep!--my Angelo, it
+is the want to die!”
+
+“My Lord, I would give this right hand,” cried Villani, earnestly, “to
+hear you say you were attached to life!”
+
+“You are a good youth, Angelo!” said Rienzi, as he passed to Nina’s
+chamber; and in her smile and wistful tenderness, forgot for a
+while--that he was a great man!
+
+
+
+Chapter 10.VIII. The Threshold of the Event.
+
+The next morning the Senator of Rome held high Court in the Capitol.
+From Florence, from Padua, from Pisa, even from Milan, (the dominion of
+the Visconti,) from Genoa, from Naples,--came Ambassadors to welcome his
+return, or to thank him for having freed Italy from the freebooter De
+Montreal. Venice alone, who held in her pay the Grand Company, stood
+aloof. Never had Rienzi seemed more prosperous and more powerful, and
+never had he exhibited a more easy and cheerful majesty of demeanour.
+
+Scarce was the audience over, when a messenger arrived from Palestrina.
+The town had surrendered, the Colonna had departed, and the standard
+of the Senator waved from the walls of the last hold of the rebellious
+Barons. Rome might now at length consider herself free, and not a foe
+seemed left to menace the repose of Rienzi.
+
+The Court dissolved. The Senator, elated and joyous, repaired
+towards his private apartments, previous to the banquet given to the
+Ambassadors. Villani met him with his wonted sombre aspect.
+
+“No sadness today, my Angelo,” said the Senator, gaily; “Palestrina is
+ours!”
+
+“I am glad to hear such news, and to see my Lord of so fair a mien,”
+ answered Angelo. “Does he not now desire life?”
+
+“Till Roman virtue revives, perhaps--yes! But thus are we fools of
+Fortune;--today glad--tomorrow dejected!”
+
+“Tomorrow,” repeated Villani, mechanically: “Ay--tomorrow perhaps
+dejected.”
+
+“Thou playest with my words, boy,” said Rienzi, half angrily, as he
+turned away.
+
+But Villani heeded not the displeasure of his Lord.
+
+The banquet was thronged and brilliant; and Rienzi that day, without an
+effort, played the courteous host.
+
+Milanese, Paduan, Pisan, Neapolitan, vied with each other in
+attracting the smiles of the potent Senator. Prodigal were their
+compliments--lavish their promises of support. No monarch in Italy
+seemed more securely throned.
+
+The banquet was over (as usual on state occasions) at an early hour;
+and Rienzi, somewhat heated with wine, strolled forth alone from the
+Capitol. Bending his solitary steps towards the Palatine, he saw the
+pale and veil-like mists that succeed the sunset, gather over the wild
+grass which waves above the Palace of the Caesars. On a mound of ruins
+(column and arch overthrown) he stood, with folded arms, musing and
+intent. In the distance lay the melancholy tombs of the Campagna, and
+the circling hills, crested with the purple hues soon to melt beneath
+the starlight. Not a breeze stirred the dark cypress and unwaving pine.
+There was something awful in the stillness of the skies, hushing the
+desolate grandeur of the earth below. Many and mingled were the thoughts
+that swept over Rienzi’s breast: memory was busy at his heart. How
+often, in his youth, had he trodden the same spot!--what visions had
+he nursed!--what hopes conceived! In the turbulence of his later life,
+Memory had long slept; but at that hour, she re-asserted her shadowy
+reign with a despotism that seemed prophetic. He was wandering--a boy,
+with his young brother, hand in hand, by the riverside at eve: anon he
+saw a pale face and gory side, and once more uttered his imprecations of
+revenge! His first successes, his virgin triumphs, his secret love, his
+fame, his power, his reverses, the hermitage of Maiella, the dungeon of
+Avignon, the triumphal return to Rome,--all swept across his breast with
+a distinctness as if he were living those scenes again!--and now!--he
+shrunk from the present, and descended the hill. The moon, already
+risen, shed her light over the Forum, as he passed through its mingled
+ruins. By the Temple of Jupiter, two figures suddenly emerged; the
+moonlight fell upon their faces, and Rienzi recognised Cecco del
+Vecchio and Angelo Villani. They saw him not; but, eagerly conversing,
+disappeared by the Arch of Trajan.
+
+“Villani! ever active in my service!” thought the Senator; “methinks
+this morning I spoke to him harshly--it was churlish in me!”
+
+He re-entered the Place of the Capitol--he stood by the staircase of
+the Lion; there was a red stain upon the pavement, unobliterated since
+Montreal’s execution, and the Senator drew himself aside with an inward
+shudder. Was it the ghastly and spectral light of the Moon, or did the
+face of that old Egyptian Monster wear an aspect that was as of life?
+The stony eyeballs seemed bent upon him with a malignant scowl; and as
+he passed on, and looked behind, they appeared almost preternaturally
+to follow his steps. A chill, he knew not why, sunk into his heart. He
+hastened to regain his palace. The sentinels made way for him.
+
+“Senator,” said one of them, doubtingly, “Messere Angelo Villani is our
+new captain--we are to obey his orders?”
+
+“Assuredly,” returned the Senator, passing on. The man lingered
+uneasily, as if he would have spoken, but Rienzi observed it not.
+Seeking his chamber, he found Nina and Irene waiting for him. His heart
+yearned to his wife. Care and toil had of late driven her from his
+thoughts, and he felt it remorsefully, as he gazed upon her noble face,
+softened by the solicitude of untiring and anxious love.
+
+“Sweetest,” said he, winding his arms around her tenderly; “thy lips
+never chide me, but thine eyes sometimes do! We have been apart too
+long. Brighter days dawn upon us, when I shall have leisure to thank
+thee for all thy care. And you, my fair sister, you smile on me!--ah,
+you have heard that your lover, ere this, is released by the cession of
+Palestrina, and tomorrow’s sun will see him at your feet. Despite all
+the cares of the day, I remembered thee, my Irene, and sent a messenger
+to bring back the blush to that pale cheek. Come, come, we shall be
+happy again!” And with that domestic fondness common to him, when
+harsher thoughts permitted, he sate himself beside the two persons
+dearest to his hearth and heart.
+
+“So happy--if we could have many hours like this!” murmured Nina,
+sinking on his breast. “Yet sometimes I wish--”
+
+“And I too,” interrupted Rienzi; “for I read thy woman’s thought--I too
+sometimes wish that fate had placed us in the lowlier valleys of
+life! But it may come yet! Irene wedded to Adrian--Rome married to
+Liberty--and then, Nina, methinks you and I would find some quiet
+hermitage, and talk over old gauds and triumphs, as of a summer’s dream.
+Beautiful, kiss me! Couldst thou resign these pomps?”
+
+“For a desert with thee, Cola!”
+
+“Let me reflect,” resumed Rienzi; “is not today the seventh of October?
+Yes! on the seventh, be it noted, my foes yielded to my power! Seven! my
+fated number, whether ominous of good or evil! Seven months did I reign
+as Tribune--seven (There was the lapse of one year between the release
+of Rienzi from Avignon, and his triumphal return to Rome: a year chiefly
+spent in the campaign of Albornoz.) years was I absent as an exile;
+tomorrow, that sees me without an enemy, completes my seventh week of
+return!”
+
+“And seven was the number of the crowns the Roman Convents and the Roman
+Council awarded thee, after the ceremony which gave thee the knighthood
+of the Santo Spirito!” (This superstition had an excuse in strange
+historical coincidences; and the number seven was indeed to Rienzi what
+the 3rd of September was to Cromwell. The ceremony of the seven
+crowns which he received after his knighthood, on the nature of which
+ridiculous ignorance has been shown by many recent writers, was, in
+fact, principally a religious and typical donation, (symbolical of the
+gifts of the Holy Spirit,) conferred by the heads of convents--and that
+part of the ceremony which was political, was republican, not regal.)
+said Nina, adding, with woman’s tender wit, “the brightest association
+of all!”
+
+“Follies seem these thoughts to others, and to philosophy, in truth, they
+are so,” said Rienzi; “but all my life long, omen and type and shadow
+have linked themselves to action and event: and the atmosphere of other
+men hath not been mine. Life itself a riddle, why should riddles amaze
+us? The Future!--what mystery in the very word! Had we lived all through
+the Past, since Time was, our profoundest experience of a thousand ages
+could not give us a guess of the events that wait the very moment we are
+about to enter! Thus deserted by Reason, what wonder that we recur to
+the Imagination, on which, by dream and symbol, God sometimes paints
+the likeness of things to come? Who can endure to leave the Future all
+unguessed, and sit tamely down to groan under the fardel of the Present?
+No, no! that which the foolish-wise call Fanaticism, belongs to the same
+part of us as Hope. Each but carries us onward--from a barren strand to
+a glorious, if unbounded sea. Each is the yearning for the GREAT BEYOND,
+which attests our immortality. Each has its visions and chimeras--some
+false, but some true! Verily, a man who becomes great is often but made
+so by a kind of sorcery in his own soul--a Pythia which prophesies that
+he shall be great--and so renders the life one effort to fulfil the
+warning! Is this folly?--it were so, if all things stopped at the grave!
+But perhaps the very sharpening, and exercising, and elevating the
+faculties here--though but for a bootless end on earth--may be designed
+to fit the soul, thus quickened and ennobled, to some high destiny
+beyond the earth! Who can tell? not I!--Let us pray!”
+
+While the Senator was thus employed, Rome in her various quarters
+presented less holy and quiet scenes.
+
+In the fortress of the Orsini lights flitted to and fro, through the
+gratings of the great court. Angelo Villani might be seen stealing from
+the postern-gate. Another hour, and the Moon was high in heaven; toward
+the ruins of the Colosseum, men, whose dress bespoke them of the lowest
+rank, were seen creeping from lanes and alleys, two by two; from these
+ruins glided again the form of the son of Montreal. Later yet--the Moon
+is sinking--a grey light breaking in the East--and the gates of Rome, by
+St. John of Lateran, are open! Villani is conversing with the sentries!
+The Moon has set--the mountains are dim with a mournful and chilling
+haze--Villani is before the palace of the Capitol--the only soldier
+there! Where are the Roman legions that were to guard alike the freedom
+and the deliverer of Rome?
+
+
+
+Chapter The Last. The Close of the Chase.
+
+It was the morning of the 8th of October, 1354. Rienzi, who rose
+betimes, stirred restlessly in his bed. “It is yet early,” he said to
+Nina, whose soft arm was round his neck; “none of my people seem to be
+astir. Howbeit, my day begins before theirs.”
+
+“Rest yet, my Cola; you want sleep.”
+
+“No; I feel feverish, and this old pain in the side torments me. I have
+letters to write.”
+
+“Let me be your secretary, dearest,” said Nina.
+
+Rienzi smiled affectionately as he rose; he repaired to his closet
+adjoining his sleeping apartment, and used the bath, as was his wont.
+Then dressing himself, he returned to Nina, who, already loosely robed,
+sate by the writing-table, ready for her office of love.
+
+“How still are all things!” said Rienzi. “What a cool and delicious
+prelude, in these early hours, to the toilsome day.”
+
+Leaning over his wife, he then dictated different letters, interrupting
+the task at times by such observations as crossed his mind.
+
+“So, now to Annibaldi! By the way, young Adrian should join us today;
+how I rejoice for Irene’s sake!”
+
+“Dear sister--yes! she loves,--if any, Cola, can so love,--as we do.”
+
+“Well, but to your task, my fair scribe. Ha! what noise is that? I hear
+an armed step--the stairs creak--some one shouts my name.”
+
+Rienzi flew to his sword! the door was thrown rudely open, and a figure
+in complete armour appeared within the chamber.
+
+“How! what means this?” said Rienzi, standing before Nina, with his
+drawn sword.
+
+The intruder lifted his visor--it was Adrian Colonna.
+
+“Fly, Rienzi!--hasten, Signora! Thank Heaven, I can save ye yet! Myself
+and train released by the capture of Palestrina, the pain of my wound
+detained me last night at Tivoli. The town was filled with armed
+men--not thine, Senator. I heard rumours that alarmed me. I resolved to
+proceed onward--I reached Rome, the gates of the city were wide open!”
+
+“How!”
+
+“Your guard gone. Presently I came upon a band of the retainers of the
+Savelli. My insignia, as a Colonna, misled them. I learned that this
+very hour some of your enemies are within the city, the rest are on
+their march--the people themselves arm against you. In the obscurer
+streets I passed through, the mob were already forming. They took me
+for thy foe, and shouted. I came hither--thy sentries have vanished. The
+private door below is unbarred and open. Not a soul seems left in thy
+palace. Haste--fly--save thyself!--Where is Irene?”
+
+“The Capitol deserted!--impossible!” cried Rienzi. He strode across the
+chambers to the ante-room, where his night-guard usually waited--it was
+empty! He passed hastily to Villani’s room--it was untenanted! He would
+have passed farther, but the doors were secured without. It was evident
+that all egress had been cut off, save by the private door below,--and
+that had been left open to admit his murtherers!
+
+He returned to his room--Nina had already gone to rouse and prepare
+Irene, whose chamber was on the other side, within one of their own.
+
+“Quick, Senator!” said Adrian. “Methinks there is yet time. We must make
+across to the Tiber. I have stationed my faithful squires and Northmen
+there. A boat waits us.”
+
+“Hark!” interrupted Rienzi, whose senses had of late been
+preternaturally quickened. “I hear a distant shout--a familiar shout,
+‘Viva ‘l Popolo!’ Why, so say I! These must be friends.”
+
+“Deceive not thyself; thou hast scarce a friend at Rome.”
+
+“Hist!” said Rienzi, in a whisper; “save Nina--save Irene. I cannot
+accompany thee.”
+
+“Art thou mad?”
+
+“No! but fearless. Besides, did I accompany, I might but destroy you
+all. Were I found with you, you would be massacred with me. Without me
+ye are safe. Yes, even the Senator’s wife and sister have provoked no
+revenge. Save them, noble Colonna! Cola di Rienzi puts his trust in God
+alone!”
+
+By this time Nina had returned; Irene with her. Afar was heard the
+tramp--steady--slow--gathering--of the fatal multitude.
+
+“Now, Cola,” said Nina, with a bold and cheerful air, and she took her
+husband’s arm, while Adrian had already found his charge in Irene.
+
+“Yes, now, Nina!” said Rienzi; “at length we part! If this is my last
+hour--in my last hour I pray God to bless and shield thee! for verily,
+thou hast been my exceeding solace--provident as a parent, tender as a
+child, the smile of my hearth, the--the--”
+
+Rienzi was almost unmanned. Emotions, deep, conflicting, unspeakably
+fond and grateful, literally choked his speech.
+
+“What!” cried Nina, clinging to his breast, and parting her hair from
+her eyes, as she sought his averted face. “Part!--never! This is my
+place--all Rome shall not tear me from it!”
+
+Adrian, in despair, seized her hand, and attempted to drag her thence.
+
+“Touch me not, sir!” said Nina, waving her arm with angry majesty, while
+her eyes sparkled as a lioness, whom the huntsmen would sever from her
+young. “I am the wife of Cola di Rienzi, the Great Senator of Rome, and
+by his side will I live and die!”
+
+“Take her hence: quick!--quick! I hear the crowd advancing.”
+
+Irene tore herself from Adrian, and fell at the feet of Rienzi--she
+clasped his knees.
+
+“Come, my brother, come! Why lose these precious moments? Rome forbids
+you to cast away a life in which her very self is bound up.”
+
+“Right, Irene; Rome is bound up with me, and we will rise or fall
+together!--no more!”
+
+“You destroy us all!” said Adrian, with generous and impatient warmth.
+“A few minutes more, and we are lost. Rash man! it is not to fall by an
+infuriate mob that you have been preserved from so many dangers.”
+
+“I believe it,” said the Senator, as his tall form seemed to dilate as
+with the greatness of his own soul. “I shall triumph yet! Never shall
+mine enemies--never shall posterity say that a second time Rienzi
+abandoned Rome! Hark! ‘Viva ‘l Popolo!’ still the cry of ‘THE PEOPLE.’
+That cry scares none but tyrants! I shall triumph and survive!”
+
+“And I with thee!” said Nina, firmly. Rienzi paused a moment, gazed on
+his wife, passionately clasped her to his heart, kissed her again and
+again, and then said, “Nina, I command thee,--Go!”
+
+“Never!”
+
+He paused. Irene’s face, drowned in tears, met his eyes.
+
+“We will all perish with you,” said his sister; “you only, Adrian, you
+leave us!”
+
+“Be it so,” said the Knight, sadly; “we will all remain,” and he
+desisted at once from further effort.
+
+There was a dead but short pause, broken but by a convulsive sob from
+Irene. The tramp of the raging thousands sounded fearfully distinct.
+Rienzi seemed lost in thought--then lifting his head, he said, calmly,
+“ye have triumphed--I join ye--I but collect these papers, and follow
+you. Quick, Adrian--save them!” and he pointed meaningly to Nina.
+
+Waiting no other hint, the young Colonna seized Nina in his strong
+grasp--with his left hand he supported Irene, who with terror and
+excitement was almost insensible. Rienzi relieved him of the lighter
+load--he took his sister in his arms, and descended the winding stairs.
+Nina remained passive--she heard her husband’s step behind, it was
+enough for her--she but turned once to thank him with her eyes. A tall
+Northman clad in armour stood at the open door. Rienzi placed Irene, now
+perfectly lifeless, in the soldier’s arms, and kissed her pale cheek in
+silence.
+
+“Quick, my Lord,” said the Northman, “on all sides they come!” So
+saying, he bounded down the descent with his burthen. Adrian followed
+with Nina; the Senator paused one moment, turned back, and was in his
+room ere Adrian was aware that he had vanished.
+
+Hastily he drew the coverlid from his bed, fastened it to the casement
+bars, and by its aid dropped (at a distance of several feet) into the
+balcony below. “I will not die like a rat,” said he, “in the trap they
+have set for me! The whole crowd shall, at least, see and hear me.”
+
+This was the work of a moment.
+
+Meanwhile, Nina had scarcely proceeded six paces, before she discovered
+that she was alone with Adrian.
+
+“Ha! Cola!” she cried, “where is he? he has gone!”
+
+“Take heart, Lady, he has returned but for some secret papers he has
+forgotten. He will follow us anon.”
+
+“Let us wait, then.”
+
+“Lady,” said Adrian, grinding his teeth, “hear you not the crowd?--on,
+on!” and he flew with a swifter step. Nina struggled in his grasp--Love
+gave her the strength of despair. With a wild laugh she broke from him.
+She flew back--the door was closed--but unbarred--her trembling hands
+lingered a moment round the spring. She opened it, drew the heavy bolt
+across the panels, and frustrated all attempt from Adrian to regain her.
+She was on the stairs,--she was in the room. Rienzi was gone! She fled,
+shrieking his name, through the State Chambers--all was desolate. She
+found the doors opening on the various passages that admitted to the
+rooms below barred without. Breathless and gasping, she returned to the
+chamber. She hurried to the casement--she perceived the method by
+which he had descended below--her brave heart told her of his brave
+design;--she saw they were separated,--“But the same roof holds us,” she
+cried, joyously, “and our fate shall be the same!” With that thought she
+sank in mute patience on the floor.
+
+Forming the generous resolve not to abandon the faithful and devoted
+pair without another effort, Adrian had followed Nina, but too late--the
+door was closed against his efforts. The crowd marched on--he heard
+their cry change on a sudden--it was no longer “LIVE THE PEOPLE!” but
+“DEATH TO THE TRAITOR!” His attendant had already disappeared, and
+waking now only to the danger of Irene, the Colonna in bitter grief
+turned away, lightly sped down the descent, and hastened to the
+riverside, where the boat and his band awaited him.
+
+The balcony on which Rienzi had alighted was that from which he had been
+accustomed to address the people--it communicated with a vast hall used
+on solemn occasions for State festivals--and on either side were square
+projecting towers, whose grated casements looked into the balcony.
+One of these towers was devoted to the armory, the other contained the
+prison of Brettone, the brother of Montreal. Beyond the latter tower was
+the general prison of the Capitol. For then the prison and the palace
+were in awful neighbourhood!
+
+The windows of the Hall were yet open--and Rienzi passed into it from
+the balcony--the witness of the yesterday’s banquet was still there--the
+wine, yet undried, crimsoned the floor, and goblets of gold and silver
+shone from the recesses. He proceeded at once to the armory, and
+selected from the various suits that which he himself had worn when,
+nearly eight years ago, he had chased the Barons from the gates of Rome.
+He arrayed himself in the mail, leaving only his head uncovered; and
+then taking, in his right hand, from the wall, the great Gonfalon of
+Rome, returned once more to the hall. Not a man encountered him. In that
+vast building, save the prisoners, and the faithful Nina, whose presence
+he knew not of--the Senator was alone.
+
+On they came, no longer in measured order, as stream after stream--from
+lane, from alley, from palace and from hovel--the raging sea
+received new additions. On they came--their passions excited by their
+numbers--women and men, children and malignant age--in all the awful
+array of aroused, released, unresisted physical strength and brutal
+wrath; “Death to the traitor--death to the tyrant--death to him who has
+taxed the people!”--“Mora l’ traditore che ha fatta la gabella!--Mora!”
+ Such was the cry of the people--such the crime of the Senator! They
+broke over the low palisades of the Capitol--they filled with one sudden
+rush the vast space;--a moment before so desolate,--now swarming with
+human beings athirst for blood!
+
+Suddenly came a dead silence, and on the balcony above stood Rienzi--his
+head was bared and the morning sun shone over that lordly brow, and
+the hair grown grey before its time, in the service of that maddening
+multitude. Pale and erect he stood--neither fear, nor anger, nor
+menace--but deep grief and high resolve--upon his features! A momentary
+shame--a momentary awe seized the crowd.
+
+He pointed to the Gonfalon, wrought with the Republican motto and arms
+of Rome, and thus he began:--
+
+“I too am a Roman and a Citizen; hear me!”
+
+“Hear him not! hear him not! his false tongue can charm away our
+senses!” cried a voice louder than his own; and Rienzi recognised Cecco
+del Vecchio.
+
+“Hear him not! down with the tyrant!” cried a more shrill and youthful
+tone; and by the side of the artisan stood Angelo Villani.
+
+“Hear him not! death to the death-giver!” cried a voice close at hand,
+and from the grating of the neighbouring prison glared near upon him, as
+the eye of a tiger, the vengeful gaze of the brother of Montreal.
+
+Then from Earth to Heaven rose the roar--“Down with the tyrant--down
+with him who taxed the people!”
+
+A shower of stones rattled on the mail of the Senator,--still he stirred
+not. No changing muscle betokened fear. His persuasion of his own
+wonderful powers of eloquence, if he could but be heard, inspired him
+yet with hope; he stood collected in his own indignant, but determined
+thoughts;--but the knowledge of that very eloquence was now his
+deadliest foe. The leaders of the multitude trembled lest he should be
+heard; “and doubtless,” says the contemporaneous biographer, “had he but
+spoken he would have changed them all, and the work been marred.”
+
+The soldiers of the Barons had already mixed themselves with the
+throng--more deadly weapons than stones aided the wrath of the
+multitude--darts and arrows darkened the air; and now a voice was heard
+shrieking, “Way for the torches!” And red in the sunlight the torches
+tossed and waved, and danced to and fro, above the heads of the crowd,
+as if the fiends were let loose amongst the mob! And what place in
+hell hath fiends like those a mad mob can furnish? Straw, and wood, and
+litter, were piled hastily round the great doors of the Capitol, and the
+smoke curled suddenly up, beating back the rush of the assailants.
+
+Rienzi was no longer visible, an arrow had pierced his hand--the right
+hand that supported the flag of Rome--the right hand that had given
+a constitution to the Republic. He retired from the storm into the
+desolate hall.
+
+He sat down;--and tears, springing from no weak and woman source, but
+tears from the loftiest fountain of emotion--tears that befit a warrior
+when his own troops desert him--a patriot when his countrymen rush
+to their own doom--a father when his children rebel against his
+love,--tears such as these forced themselves from his eyes and
+relieved,--but they changed, his heart!
+
+“Enough, enough!” he said, presently rising and dashing the drops
+scornfully away; “I have risked, dared, toiled enough for this dastard
+and degenerate race. I will yet baffle their malice--I renounce the
+thought of which they are so little worthy!--Let Rome perish!--I feel,
+at last, that I am nobler than my country!--she deserves not so high a
+sacrifice!”
+
+With that feeling, Death lost all the nobleness of aspect it had before
+presented to him; and he resolved, in very scorn of his ungrateful foes,
+in very defeat of their inhuman wrath, to make one effort for his life!
+He divested himself of his glittering arms; his address, his dexterity,
+his craft, returned to him. His active mind ran over the chances of
+disguise--of escape;--he left the hall--passed through the humbler
+rooms, devoted to the servitors and menials--found in one of them a
+coarse working garb--indued himself with it--placed upon his head some
+of the draperies and furniture of the palace, as if escaping with
+them; and said, with his old “fantastico riso” (“Fantastic smile or
+laugh.”)--“When all other friends desert me, I may well forsake myself!”
+ With that he awaited his occasion.
+
+Meanwhile the flames burnt fierce and fast; the outer door below was
+already consumed; from the apartment he had deserted the fire burst out
+in volleys of smoke--the wood crackled--the lead melted--with a crash
+fell the severed gates--the dreadful entrance was opened to all the
+multitude--the proud Capitol of the Caesars was already tottering to its
+fall!--Now was the time!--he passed the flaming door--the smouldering
+threshold;--he passed the outer gate unscathed--he was in the middle of
+the crowd. “Plenty of pillage within,” he said to the bystanders, in
+the Roman patois, his face concealed by his load--“Suso, suso a gliu
+traditore!” (Down, down with the traitor.) The mob rushed past him--he
+went on--he gained the last stair descending into the open streets--he
+was at the last gate--liberty and life were before him.
+
+A soldier (one of his own) seized him. “Pass not--whither goest thou?”
+
+“Beware, lest the Senator escape disguised!” cried a voice behind--it
+was Villani’s. The concealing load was torn from his head--Rienzi stood
+revealed!
+
+“I am the Senator!” he said in a loud voice. “Who dare touch the
+Representative of the People?”
+
+The multitude were round him in an instant. Not led, but rather hurried
+and whirled along, the Senator was borne to the Place of the Lion. With
+the intense glare of the bursting flames, the grey image reflected a
+lurid light, and glowed--(that grim and solemn monument!)--as if itself
+of fire!
+
+There arrived, the crowd gave way, terrified by the greatness of their
+victim. Silent he stood, and turned his face around; nor could the
+squalor of his garb, nor the terror of the hour, nor the proud grief of
+detection, abate the majesty of his mien, or reassure the courage of the
+thousands who gathered, gazing, round him. The whole Capitol wrapped
+in fire, lighted with ghastly pomp the immense multitude. Down the long
+vista of the streets extended the fiery light and the serried throng,
+till the crowd closed with the gleaming standards of the Colonna--the
+Orsini--the Savelli! Her true tyrants were marching into Rome! As the
+sound of their approaching horns and trumpets broke upon the burning
+air, the mob seemed to regain their courage. Rienzi prepared to speak;
+his first word was as the signal of his own death.
+
+“Die, tyrant!” cried Cecco del Vecchio: and he plunged his dagger in the
+Senator’s breast.
+
+“Die, executioner of Montreal!” muttered Villani: “thus the trust is
+fulfilled!” and his was the second stroke. Then as he drew back, and saw
+the artisan in all the drunken fury of his brute passion, tossing up his
+cap, shouting aloud, and spurning the fallen lion,--the young man gazed
+upon him with a look of withering and bitter scorn, and said, while he
+sheathed his blade, and slowly turned to quit the crowd,
+
+“Fool, miserable fool! thou and these at least had no blood of kindred
+to avenge!”
+
+They heeded not his words--they saw him not depart; for as Rienzi,
+without a word, without a groan, fell to the earth,--as the roaring
+waves of the multitude closed over him,--a voice, shrill, sharp, and
+wild, was heard above all the clamour. At the casement of the Palace,
+(the casement of her bridal chamber,) Nina stood!--through the flames
+that burst below and around, her face and outstretched arms alone
+visible! Ere yet the sound of that thrilling cry passed from the air,
+down with a mighty crash thundered that whole wing of the Capitol,--a
+blackened and smouldering mass.
+
+At that hour, a solitary boat was gliding swiftly along the Tiber. Rome
+was at a distance, but the lurid blow of the conflagration cast its
+reflection upon the placid and glassy stream: fair beyond description
+was the landscape; soft beyond all art of Painter and of Poet, the
+sunlight quivering over the autumnal herbage, and hushing into tender
+calm the waves of the golden River!
+
+Adrian’s eyes were strained towards the towers of the
+Capitol, distinguished by the flames from the spires and domes
+around;--senseless, and clasped to his guardian breast, Irene was
+happily unconscious of the horrors of the time.
+
+“They dare not--they dare not,” said the brave Colonna, “touch a hair of
+that sacred head!--if Rienzi fall, the liberties of Rome fall for ever!
+As those towers that surmount the flames, the pride and monument
+of Rome, he shall rise above the dangers of the hour. Behold, still
+unscathed amidst the raging element, the Capitol itself is his emblem!”
+
+Scarce had he spoken, when a vast volume of smoke obscured the fires
+afar off, a dull crash (deadened by the distance) travelled to his ear,
+and the next moment, the towers on which he gazed had vanished from
+the scene, and one intense and sullen glare seemed to settle over the
+atmosphere,--making all Rome itself the funeral pyre of THE LAST OF THE
+ROMAN TRIBUNES!
+
+
+The End
+
+
+
+
+Appendix I. Some Remarks on the Life and Character of Rienzi.
+
+The principal authority from which historians have taken their account
+of the life and times of Rienzi is a very curious biography, by some
+unknown contemporary; and this, which is in the Roman patois of the
+time, has been rendered not quite unfamiliar to the French and English
+reader by the work of Pere du Cerceau, called “Conjuration de Nicolas
+Gabrini, dit de Rienzi,” (See for a specimen of the singular blunders
+of the Frenchman’s work, Appendix II.) which has at once pillaged and
+deformed the Roman biographer. The biography I refer to was published
+(and the errors of the former editions revised) by Muratori in his great
+collection; and has lately been reprinted separately in an improved
+text, accompanied by notes of much discrimination and scholastic taste,
+and a comment upon that celebrated poem of Petrarch, “Spirito Gentil,”
+ which the majority of Italian critics have concurred in considering
+addressed to Rienzi, in spite of the ingenious arguments to the contrary
+by the Abbe de Sade.
+
+This biography has been generally lauded for its rare impartiality. And
+the author does, indeed, praise and blame alike with a most singular
+appearance of stolid candour. The work, in truth, is one of those not
+uncommon proofs, of which Boswell’s “Johnson” is the most striking, that
+a very valuable book may be written by a very silly man. The biographer
+of Rienzi appears more like the historian of Rienzi’s clothes, so minute
+is he on all details of their colour and quality--so silent is he upon
+everything that could throw light upon the motives of their wearer.
+In fact, granting the writer every desire to be impartial, he is too
+foolish to be so. It requires some cleverness to judge accurately of
+a very clever man in very difficult circumstances; and the worthy
+biographer is utterly incapable of giving us any clue to the actions
+of Rienzi--utterly unable to explain the conduct of the man by the
+circumstances of the time. The weakness of his vision causes him,
+therefore, often to squint. We must add to his want of wisdom a want
+of truth, which the Herodotus-like simplicity of his style frequently
+conceals. He describes things which had no witness as precisely and
+distinctly as those which he himself had seen. For instance, before
+the death of Rienzi, in those awful moments when the Senator was alone,
+unheard, unseen, he coolly informs us of each motion, and each thought
+of Rienzi’s, with as much detail as if Rienzi had returned from the
+grave to assist his narration. These obvious inventions have been
+adopted by Gibbon and others with more good faith than the laws of
+evidence would warrant. Still, however, to a patient and cautious reader
+the biography may furnish a much better notion of Rienzi’s character,
+than we can glean from the historians who have borrowed from it
+piecemeal. Such a reader will discard all the writer’s reasonings,
+will think little of his praise or blame, and regard only the facts he
+narrates, judging them true or doubtful, according as the writer had the
+opportunities of being himself the observer. Thus examining, the reader
+will find evidence sufficient of Rienzi’s genius and Rienzi’s failings:
+Carefully distinguishing between the period of his power as Tribune, and
+that of his power as Senator, he will find the Tribune vain, haughty,
+fond of display; but, despite the reasonings of the biographer, he will
+not recognise those faults in the Senator. On the other hand, he will
+notice the difference between youth and maturity--hope and experience;
+he will notice in the Tribune vast ambition, great schemes, enterprising
+activity--which sober into less gorgeous and more quiet colours in
+the portrait of the Senator. He will find that in neither instance did
+Rienzi fall from his own faults--he will find that the vulgar moral
+of ambition, blasted by its own excesses, is not the true moral of the
+Roman’s life; he will find that, both in his abdication as Tribune,
+and his death as Senator, Rienzi fell from the vices of the People. The
+Tribune was a victim to ignorant cowardice--the Senator, a victim to
+ferocious avarice. It is this which modern historians have failed to
+represent. Gibbon records rightly, that the Count of Minorbino entered
+Rome with one hundred and fifty soldiers, and barricadoed the quarter of
+the Colonna--that the bell of the Capitol sounded--that Rienzi addressed
+the People--that they were silent and inactive--and that Rienzi then
+abdicated the government. But for this he calls Rienzi “pusillanimous.”
+ Is not that epithet to be applied to the People? Rienzi invoked them to
+move against the Robber--the People refused to obey. Rienzi wished to
+fight--the People refused to stir. It was not the cause of Rienzi alone
+which demanded their exertions--it was the cause of the People--theirs,
+not his, the shame, if one hundred and fifty foreign soldiers mastered
+Rome, overthrew their liberties, and restored their tyrants! Whatever
+Rienzi’s sins, whatever his unpopularity, their freedom, their laws,
+their republic, were at stake; and these they surrendered to one hundred
+and fifty hirelings! This is the fact that damns them! But Rienzi was
+not unpopular when he addressed and conjured them: they found no fault
+with him. “The sighs and the groans of the People,” says Sismondi,
+justly, “replied to his,”--they could weep, but they would not fight.
+This strange apathy the modern historians have not accounted for, yet
+the principal cause was obvious--Rienzi was excommunicated! (And this
+curse I apprehend to have been the more effective in the instance of
+Rienzi, from a fact that it would be interesting and easy to establish:
+viz., that he owed his rise as much to religious as to civil causes. He
+aimed evidently to be a religious Reformer. All his devices, ceremonies,
+and watchwords, were of a religious character. The monks took part with
+his enterprise, and joined in the revolution. His letters are full of
+mystical fanaticism. His references to ancient heroes of Rome are always
+mingled with invocations to her Christian Saints. The Bible, at that
+time little read by the public civilians of Italy, is constantly in
+his hands, and his addresses studded with texts. His very garments were
+adorned with sacred and mysterious emblems. No doubt, the ceremony of
+his Knighthood, which Gibbon ridicules as an act of mere vanity, was but
+another of his religious extravagances; for he peculiarly dedicated his
+Knighthood to the service of the Santo Spirito; and his bathing in the
+vase of Constantine was quite of a piece, not with the vanity of the
+Tribune, but with the extravagance of the Fanatic. In fact, they tried
+hard to prove him a heretic; but he escaped a charge under the mild
+Innocent, which a century or two before, or a century or two afterwards,
+would have sufficed to have sent a dozen Rienzis to the stake. I have
+dwelt the more upon this point, because, if it be shown that religious
+causes operated with those of liberty, we throw a new light upon the
+whole of that most extraordinary revolution, and its suddenness is
+infinitely less striking. The deep impression Rienzi produced upon that
+populace was thus stamped with the spirit of the religious enthusiast
+more than that of the classical demagogue. And, as in the time of
+Cromwell, the desire for temporal liberty was warmed and coloured by
+the presence of a holier and more spiritual fervour:--“The Good Estate”
+ (Buono Stato) of Rienzi reminds us a little of the Good Cause of General
+Cromwell.) In stating the fact, these writers have seemed to think
+that excommunication in Rome, in the fourteenth century, produced no
+effect!--the effect it did produce I have endeavoured in these pages to
+convey.
+
+The causes of the second fall and final murder of Rienzi are equally
+misstated by modern narrators. It was from no fault of his--no
+injustice, no cruelty, no extravagance--it was not from the execution of
+Montreal, nor that of Pandulfo di Guido---it was from a gabelle on
+wine and salt that he fell. To preserve Rome from the tyrants it
+was necessary to maintain an armed force; to pay the force a tax was
+necessary; the tax was imposed--and the multitude joined with the
+tyrants, and their cry was, “Perish the traitor who has made the
+gabelle!” This was their only charge--this the only crime that their
+passions and their fury could cite against him.
+
+The faults of Rienzi are sufficiently visible, and I have not
+unsparingly shewn them; but we must judge men, not according as they
+approach perfection, but according as their good or bad qualities
+preponderate--their talents or their weaknesses--the benefits they
+effected, the evil they wrought. For a man who rose to so great a power,
+Rienzi’s faults were singularly few--crimes he committed none. He is
+almost the only man who ever rose from the rank of a citizen to a power
+equal to that of monarchs without a single act of violence or treachery.
+When in power, he was vain, ostentatious, and imprudent,--always an
+enthusiast--often a fanatic; but his very faults had greatness of soul,
+and his very fanaticism at once supported his enthusiastic daring, and
+proved his earnest honesty. It is evident that no heinous charge could
+be brought against him even by his enemies, for all the accusations to
+which he was subjected, when excommunicated, exiled, fallen, were for
+two offences which Petrarch rightly deemed the proofs of his virtue
+and his glory: first, for declaring Rome to be free; secondly, for
+pretending that the Romans had a right of choice in the election of
+the Roman Emperor. (The charge of heresy was dropped.) Stern, just, and
+inflexible, as he was when Tribune, his fault was never that of wanton
+cruelty. The accusation against him, made by the gentle Petrarch,
+indeed, was that he was not determined enough--that he did not
+consummate the revolution by exterminating the patrician tyrants. When
+Senator, he was, without sufficient ground, accused of avarice in
+the otherwise just and necessary execution of Montreal. (Gibbon, in
+mentioning the execution of Montreal, omits to state that Montreal was
+more than suspected of conspiracy and treason to restore the Colonna.
+Matthew Villani records it as a common belief that such truly was the
+offence of the Provencal. The biographer of Rienzi gives additional
+evidence of the fact. Gibbon’s knowledge of this time was superficial.
+As one instance of this, he strangely enough represents Montreal as the
+head of the first Free Company that desolated Italy: he took that error
+from the Pere du Cerceau.) It was natural enough that his enemies and
+the vulgar should suppose that he executed a creditor to get rid of a
+debt; but it was inexcusable in later, and wiser, and fairer writers
+to repeat so grave a calumny, without at least adding the obvious
+suggestion, that the avarice of Rienzi could have been much better
+gratified by sparing than by destroying the life of one of the richest
+subjects in Europe. Montreal, we may be quite sure, would have purchased
+his life at an immeasurably higher price than the paltry sum lent to
+Rienzi by his brothers. And this is not a probable hypothesis, but a
+certain fact, for we are expressly told that Montreal, “knowing the
+Tribune was in want of money, offered Rienzi, that if he would let
+him go, he, Montreal, would furnish him not only with twenty thousand
+florins, (four times the amount of Rienzi’s debt to him,) but with as
+many soldiers and as much money as he pleased.” This offer Rienzi did
+not attend to. Would he have rejected it had avarice been his motive?
+And what culpable injustice, to mention the vague calumny without citing
+the practical contradiction! When Gibbon tells us, also, that “the most
+virtuous citizen of Rome,” meaning Pandulfo, or Pandolficcio di Guido,
+(Matthew Villani speaks of him as a wise and good citizen, of great
+repute among the People--and this, it seems, he really was.) was
+sacrificed to his jealousy, he a little exaggerates the expression
+bestowed upon Pandulfo, which is that of “virtuoso assai;” and
+that expression, too, used by a man who styles the robber Montreal,
+“eccellente uomo--di quale fama suono per tutta la Italia di virtude”
+ (“An excellent man whose fame for valour resounded throughout all
+Italy.”)--(so good a moral critic was the writer!) but he also
+altogether waves all mention of the probabilities that are sufficiently
+apparent, of the scheming of Pandulfo to supplant Rienzi, and to obtain
+the “Signoria del Popolo.” Still, however, if the death of Pandulfo may
+be considered a blot on the memory of Rienzi, it does not appear that it
+was this which led to his own fate. The cry of the mob surrounding his
+palace was not, “Perish him who executed Pandulfo,” it was--and this
+again and again must be carefully noted--it was nothing more nor less
+than, “Perish him who has made the gabelle!”
+
+Gibbon sneers at the military skill and courage of Rienzi. For this
+sneer there is no cause. His first attempts, his first rise, attested
+sufficiently his daring and brave spirit; in every danger he was
+present--never shrinking from a foe so long as he was supported by
+the People. He distinguished himself at Viterbo when in the camp of
+Albornoz, in several feats of arms, (“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. ii.
+cap. 14.) and his end was that of a hero. So much for his courage; as to
+his military skill; it would be excusable enough if Rienzi--the eloquent
+and gifted student, called from the closet and the rostrum to assume the
+command of an army--should have been deficient in the art of war; yet,
+somehow or other, upon the whole, his arms prospered. He defeated the
+chivalry of Rome at her gates; and if he did not, after his victory,
+march to Marino, for which his biographer (In this the anonymous writer
+compares him gravely to Hannibal, who knew how to conquer, but not how
+to use his conquest.) and Gibbon blame him, the reason is sufficiently
+clear--“Volea pecunia per soldati”--he wanted money for the soldiers!
+On his return as Senator, it must be remembered that he had to besiege
+Palestrina, which was considered even by the ancient Romans almost
+impregnable by position; but during the few weeks he was in power,
+Palestrina yielded--all his open enemies were defeated--the tyrants
+expelled--Rome free; and this without support from any party, Papal
+or Popular, or, as Gibbon well expresses it, “suspected by the
+People--abandoned by the Prince.”
+
+On regarding what Rienzi did, we must look to his means, to the
+difficulties that surrounded him, to the scantiness of his resources. We
+see a man without rank, wealth, or friends, raising himself to the head
+of a popular government in the metropolis of the Church--in the City
+of the Empire. We see him reject any title save that of a popular
+magistrate--establish at one stroke a free constitution--a new code of
+law. We see him first expel, then subdue, the fiercest aristocracy in
+Europe--conquer the most stubborn banditti, rule impartially the most
+turbulent people, embruted by the violence, and sunk in the corruption
+of centuries. We see him restore trade--establish order--create
+civilization as by a miracle--receive from crowned heads homage and
+congratulation--outwit, conciliate, or awe, the wiliest priesthood of
+the Papal Diplomacy--and raise his native city at once to sudden yet
+acknowledged eminence over every other state, its superior in arts,
+wealth, and civilization;--we ask what errors we are to weigh in the
+opposite balance, and we find an unnecessary ostentation, a fanatical
+extravagance, and a certain insolent sternness. But what are such
+offences--what the splendour of a banquet, or the ceremony of
+Knighthood, or a few arrogant words, compared with the vices of
+almost every prince who was his contemporary? This is the way to judge
+character: we must compare men with men, and not with ideals of what
+men should be. We look to the amazing benefits Rienzi conferred upon his
+country. We ask his means, and see but his own abilities. His treasury
+becomes impoverished--his enemies revolt--the Church takes advantage of
+his weakness--he is excommunicated--the soldiers refuse to fight--the
+People refuse to assist--the Barons ravage the country--the ways are
+closed, the provisions are cut off from Rome. (“Allora le strade furo
+chiuse, li massari de la terre non portavano grano, ogni die nasceva
+nuovo rumore.”--“Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. i. cap. 37.) A handful
+of banditti enter the city--Rienzi proposes to resist them--the People
+desert--he abdicates. Rapine, Famine, Massacre, ensue--they who deserted
+regret, repent--yet he is still unassisted, alone--now an exile, now a
+prisoner, his own genius saves him from every peril, and restores him
+to greatness. He returns, the Pope’s Legate refuses him arms--the People
+refuse him money. He re-establishes law and order, expels the tyrants,
+renounces his former faults (this, the second period of his power, has
+been represented by Gibbon and others as that of his principal faults,
+and he is evidently at this time no favourite with his contemporaneous
+biographer; but looking to what he did, we find amazing dexterity,
+prudence, and energy in the most difficult crisis, and none of his
+earlier faults. It is true, that he does not shew the same brilliant
+extravagance which, I suspect, dazzled his contemporaries, more than his
+sounder qualities; but we find that in a few weeks he had conquered
+all his powerful enemies--that his eloquence was as great as ever--his
+promptitude greater--his diligence indefatigable--his foresight
+unslumbering. “He alone,” says the biographer, “carried on the affairs
+of Rome, but his officials were slothful and cold.” This too, tortured
+by a painful disease--already--though yet young--broken and infirm. The
+only charges against him, as Senator, were the deaths of Montreal and
+Pandulfo di Guido, the imposition of the gabelle, and the renunciation
+of his former habits of rigid abstinence, for indulgence in wine and
+feasting. Of the first charges, the reader has already been enabled to
+form a judgment. To the last, alas! the reader must extend indulgence,
+and for it he may find excuse. We must compassionate even more than
+condemn the man to whom excitement has become nature, and who resorts
+to the physical stimulus or the momentary Lethe, when the mental
+exhilarations of hope, youth, and glory, begin to desert him. His
+alleged intemperance, however, which the Romans (a peculiarly sober
+people) might perhaps exaggerate, and for which he gave the excuse of
+a thirst produced by disease contracted in the dungeon of
+Avignon--evidently and confessedly did not in the least diminish his
+attention to business, which, according to his biographer, was at that
+time greater than ever.)--is prudent, wary, provident--reigns a few
+weeks--taxes the People, in support of the People, and is torn to
+pieces! One day of the rule that followed is sufficient to vindicate his
+reign and avenge his memory--and for centuries afterwards, whenever that
+wretched and degenerate populace dreamed of glory or sighed for justice,
+they recalled the bright vision of their own victim, and deplored the
+fate of Cola di Rienzi. That he was not a tyrant is clear in this--when
+he was dead, he was bitterly regretted. The People never regret a
+tyrant! From the unpopularity that springs from other faults there is
+often a re-action; but there is no re-action in the populace towards
+their betrayor or oppressor. A thousand biographies cannot decide upon
+the faults or merits of a ruler like the one fact, whether he is beloved
+or hated ten years after he is dead. But if the ruler has been murdered
+by the People, and is then regretted by them, their repentance is his
+acquittal.
+
+I have said that the moral of the Tribune’s life, and of this fiction,
+is not the stale and unprofitable moral that warns the ambition of
+an individual:--More vast, more solemn, and more useful, it addresses
+itself to nations. If I judge not erringly, it proclaims that, to
+be great and free, a People must trust not to individuals but
+themselves--that there is no sudden leap from servitude to liberty--that
+it is to institutions, not to men, for they must look for reforms that
+last beyond the hour--that their own passions are the real despots they
+should subdue, their own reason the true regenerator of abuses. With a
+calm and a noble people, the individual ambition of a citizen can
+never effect evil:--to be impatient of chains, is not to be worthy of
+freedom--to murder a magistrate is not to ameliorate the laws. (Rienzi
+was murdered because the Romans had been in the habit of murdering
+whenever they were displeased. They had, very shortly before, stoned one
+magistrate, and torn to pieces another. By the same causes and the same
+career a People may be made to resemble the bravo whose hand wanders to
+his knife at the smallest affront, and if today he poniards the enemy
+who assaults him, tomorrow he strikes the friend who would restrain.)
+The People write their own condemnation whenever they use characters
+of blood; and theirs alone the madness and the crime, if they crown a
+tyrant or butcher a victim.
+
+
+
+
+Appendix II. A Word Upon the Work by Pere du Cerceau and Pere Brumoy,
+
+Entitled “Conjuration de Nicolas Gabrini, Dit de Rienzi, Tyran de Rome.”
+
+Shortly after the Romance of “Rienzi” first appeared, a translation
+of the biography compiled by Cerceau and Brumoy was published by Mr.
+Whittaker. The translator, in a short and courteous advertisement,
+observes, “That it has always been considered as a work of authority;
+and even Gibbon appears to have relied on it without further research:
+(Here, however, he does injustice to Gibbon.)...that, “as a record of
+facts, therefore, the work will, it is presumed, be acceptable to the
+public.” The translator has fulfilled his duty with accuracy, elegance,
+and spirit,--and he must forgive me, if, in justice to History and
+Rienzi, I point out a very few from amongst a great many reasons, why
+the joint labour of the two worthy Jesuits cannot be considered either a
+work of authority, or a record of facts. The translator observes in his
+preface, “that the general outline (of Du Cerceau’s work) was probably
+furnished by an Italian life written by a contemporary of Rienzi.” The
+fact, however, is, that Du Cerceau’s book is little more than a wretched
+paraphrase of that very Italian life mentioned by the translator,--full
+of blunders, from ignorance of the peculiar and antiquated dialect in
+which the original is written, and of assumptions by the Jesuit himself,
+which rest upon no authority whatever. I will first shew, in support
+of this assertion, what the Italians themselves think of the work of
+Fathers Brumoy and Du Cerceau. The Signor Zefirino Re, who had proved
+himself singularly and minutely acquainted with the history of that
+time, and whose notes to the “Life of Rienzi” are characterized by
+acknowledged acuteness and research, thus describes the manner in which
+the two Jesuits compounded this valuable “record of facts.”
+
+“Father Du Cerceau for his work made use of a French translation of the
+life by the Italian contemporary printed in Bracciano, 1624, executed
+by Father Sanadon, another Jesuit, from whom he received the MS.
+This proves that Du Cerceau knew little of our ‘volgar lingua’ of the
+fourteenth century. But the errors into which he has run shew, that even
+that little was unknown to his guide, and still less to Father Brumoy,
+(however learned and reputed the latter might be in French literature,)
+who, after the death of Du Cerceau, supplied the deficiencies in the
+first pages of the author’s MS., which were, I know not how, lost; and
+in this part are found the more striking errors in the work, which
+shall be noticed in the proper place; in the meantime, one specimen will
+suffice. In the third chapter, book i., Cola, addressing the Romans,
+says, ‘Che lo giubileo si approssima, che se la gente, la quale verra
+al giubileo, li trova sproveduti di annona, le pietre (per metatesi sta
+scritto le preite) ne porteranno da Roma per rabbia di fame, e le pietre
+non basteranno a tanta moltitudine. Il francese traduce. Le
+jubile approche, et vous n’avez ni provisions, ni vivres; les
+etrangers...trouvent votre ville denue de tout. Ne comptez point sur les
+secours des gens d’Eglise; ils sortiront de la ville, s’ils n’y trouvent
+de quoi subsister: et d’ailleurs pourroient-ils suffire a la multitude
+innombrable, que se trouvera dans vos murs?’” (The English translator
+could not fail to adopt the Frenchman’s ludicrous mistake.) “Buon Dio!”
+ exclaims the learned Zefirino, “Buon Dio! le pietre prese per tanta
+gente di chiesa!” (See Preface to Zefirino Re’s edition of the “Life of
+Rienzi,” page 9, note on Du Cerceau.)
+
+Another blunder little less extraordinary occurs in Chapter vi., in
+which the ordinances of Rienzi’s Buono Stato are recited.
+
+It is set forth as the third ordinance:--“Che nulla case di Roma sia
+data per terra per alcuna cagione, ma vada in commune;” which simply
+means, that the houses of delinquents should in no instance be razed,
+but added to the community or confiscated. This law being intended
+partly to meet the barbarous violences with which the excesses and
+quarrels of the Barons had half dismantled Rome, and principally to
+repeal some old penal laws by which the houses of a certain class of
+offenders might be destroyed; but the French translator construes it,
+“Que nulle maison de Rome ne saroit donnee en propre, pour quelque
+raison que ce put etre; mais que les revenus en appartiendroient au
+public!” (The English translator makes this law unintelligible:--“That
+no family of Rome shall appropriate to their own use what they think
+fit, but that the revenues shall appertain to the public”!!!--the
+revenues of what?)
+
+But enough of the blunders arising from ignorance.--I must now be
+permitted to set before the reader a few of the graver offences of
+wilful assumption and preposterous invention.
+
+When Rienzi condemned some of the Barons to death, the Pere thus writes;
+I take the recent translation published by Mr. Whittaker:--
+
+“The next day the Tribune, resolving more than ever to rid himself of
+his prisoners, ordered tapestries of two colours, red and white, to be
+laid over the place whereon he held his councils, and which he had made
+choice of to be the theatre of this bloody tragedy, as the extraordinary
+tapestry seemed to declare. He afterwards sent a cordelier to every
+one of the prisoners to administer the sacraments, and then ordered
+the Capitol bell to be tolled. At that fatal sound and the sight of
+the confessors, the Lords no longer doubted of sentence of death being
+passed upon them. They all confessed except the old Colonna, and many
+received the communion. In the meanwhile the people, naturally prompt to
+attend, when their first impetuosity had time to calm, could not without
+pity behold the dismal preparations which were making. The sight of the
+bloody colour in the tapestry shocked them. On this first impression
+they joined in opinion in relation to so many illustrious heads now
+going to be sacrificed, and lamented more their unhappy catastrophe,
+as no crime had been proved upon them to render them worthy of such
+barbarous treatment. Above all, the unfortunate Stephen Colonna,
+whose birth, age, and affable behaviour, commanded respect, excited a
+particular compassion. An universal silence and sorrow reigned among
+them. Those who were nearest Rienzi discovered an alteration. They took
+the opportunity of imploring his mercy towards the prisoners in terms
+the most affecting and moving.”
+
+Will it be believed, that in the original from which the Pere Du Cerceau
+borrows or rather imagines this touching recital, there is not a single
+syllable about the pity of the people, nor their shock at the bloody
+colours of the tapestry, nor their particular compassion for the
+unfortunate Stephen Colonna?--in fine, the People are not even mentioned
+at all. All that is said is, “Some Roman citizens, (alcuni cittadini
+Romani,) considering the judgment Rienzi was about to make, interposed
+with soft and caressing words, and at last changed the opinion of the
+Tribune;” all the rest is the pure fiction of the ingenious Frenchman!
+Again, Du Cerceau, describing the appearance of the Barons at this fatal
+moment, says, “Notwithstanding the grief and despair visible in their
+countenances, they shewed a noble indignation, generally attendant on
+innocence in the hour of death.” What says the authority from which
+alone, except his own, the good Father could take his account? Why, not
+a word about this noble indignation, or this parade of innocence! The
+original says simply, that “the Barons were so frozen with terror
+that they were unable to speak,” (diventaso si gelati che non poteano
+favellare;) “that the greater part humbled themselves,” (e prese
+penitenza e comunione;) that when Rienzi addressed them “all the Barons
+(come dannati) stood in sadness.” (See “Vita di Cola di Rienzi”, lib. i.
+cap. 29.) Du Cerceau then proceeds to state, that “although he (Rienzi)
+was grieved at heart to behold his victims snatched from him, he
+endeavoured to make a merit of it in the eyes of the People.” There is
+not a word of this in the original!
+
+So when Rienzi, on a latter occasion, placed the Prefect John di Vico
+in prison, this Jesuit says, “To put a gloss upon this action before
+the eyes of the people, Rienzi gave out that the Governor, John di Vico,
+keeping a correspondence with the conspirators, came with no other view
+than to betray the Romans.” And if this scribbler, who pretends to have
+consulted the Vatican MSS., had looked at the most ordinary authorities,
+he would have seen that John di Vico did come with that view. (See for
+Di Vico’s secret correspondence with the Barons, La Cron. Bologn. page
+406; and La Cron. Est. page 444.)
+
+Again, in the battle between the Barons and the Romans at the gates, Du
+Cerceau thus describes the conduct of the Tribune:--“The Tribune, amidst
+his troops, knew so little of what had passed, that seeing at a distance
+one of his standards fall, he looked upon all as lost, and, casting up
+his eyes to heaven full of despair, cried out, ‘O God, will you then
+forsake me?’ But no sooner was he informed of the entire defeat of
+his enemies, than his dread and cowardice even turned to boldness and
+arrogance.”
+
+Now in the original all that is said of this is, “That it is true that
+the standard of the Tribune fell--the Tribune astonished, (or if you
+please, dismayed, sbigottio,) stood with his eyes raised to heaven, and
+could find no other words than, ‘O God hast thou betrayed me?’” This
+evinced, perhaps, alarm or consternation at the fall of his standard--a
+consternation natural, not to a coward, but a fanatic, at such an event.
+But not a word is said about Rienzi’s cowardice in the action itself;
+it is not stated when the accident happened--nothing bears out the
+implication that the Tribune was remote from the contest, and knew
+little of what passed. And if this ignorant Frenchman had consulted
+any other contemporaneous historian whatever, he would have found it
+asserted by them all, that the fight was conducted with great valour,
+both by the Roman populace and their leader on the one side, and the
+Barons on the other.--G. Vill. lib. xii. cap. 105; Cron. Sen. tom. xv.
+Murat. page 119; Cron. Est. page 444. Yet Gibbon rests his own sarcasm
+on the Tribune’s courage solely on the baseless exaggeration of this
+Pere Du Cerceau.
+
+So little, indeed, did this French pretender know of the history of the
+time and place he treats of, that he imagines the Stephen Colonna who
+was killed in the battle above-mentioned was the old Stephen Colonna,
+and is very pathetic about his “venerable appearance,” &c. This error,
+with regard to a man so eminent as Stephen Colonna the elder, is
+inexcusable: for, had the priest turned over the other pages of the very
+collection in which he found the biography he deforms, he would
+have learned that old Stephen Colonna was alive some time after that
+battle.--(Cron. Sen. Murat. tom. xv. page 121.)
+
+Again, just before Rienzi’s expulsion from the office of Tribune, Du
+Cerceau, translating in his headlong way the old biographer’s account of
+the causes of Rienzi’s loss of popularity, says, “He shut himself up in
+his palace, and his presence was known only by the rigorous punishments
+which he caused his agents to inflict upon the innocent.” Not a word of
+this in the original!
+
+Again, after the expulsion, Du Cerceau says, that the Barons seized upon
+the “immense riches” he had amassed,--the words in the original are,
+“grandi ornamenti,” which are very different things from immense riches.
+But the most remarkable sins of commission are in this person’s account
+of the second rise and fall of Rienzi under the title of Senator. Of
+this I shall give but one instance:--
+
+“The Senator, who perceived it, became only the more cruel. His
+jealousies produced only fresh murders. In the continual dread he was
+in, that the general discontent would terminate in some secret attempt
+upon his person, he determined to intimidate the most enterprising, by
+sacrificing sometimes one, sometimes another, and chiefly those whose
+riches rendered them the more guilty in his eyes. Numbers were sent
+every day to the Capitol prison. Happy were those who could get off with
+the confiscation of their estates.”
+
+Of these grave charges there is not a syllable in the original! And so
+much for the work of Pere Cerceau and Pere Brumoy, by virtue of which,
+historians have written of the life and times of Rienzi, and upon the
+figments of which, the most remarkable man in an age crowded with great
+characters is judged by the general reader!
+
+I must be pardoned for this criticism, which might not have been
+necessary, had not the work to which it relates, in the English
+translation quoted from, (a translation that has no faults but those
+of the French original,) been actually received as an historical and
+indisputable authority, and opposed with a triumphant air to some
+passages in my own narrative which were literally taken from the
+authentic records of the time.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rienzi, by Edward Bulwer Lytton
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1396 ***