Rienzi

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Rienzi


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."