Rienzi

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Rienzi


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.