Rienzi

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Rienzi




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.