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diff --git a/1396-0.txt b/1396-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ed43a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/1396-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19782 @@ +*** 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 *** |