Rienzi

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Rienzi


(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."