Rienzi

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Rienzi


Behind Nina, well contented to shrink from the gaze of the throng, and
to feel her softer beauty eclipsed by the dazzling and gorgeous charms
of her brother's wife, stood Irene. Amidst the crowd on her alone Adrian
fixed his eyes. The years which had flown over the fair brow of the
girl of sixteen--then animated by, yet trembling beneath, the first wild
breath of Love;--youth in every vein--passion and childish tenderness
in every thought, had not marred, but they had changed, the character
of Irene's beauty. Her cheek, no longer varying with every instant, was
settled into a delicate and thoughtful paleness--her form, more rounded
to the proportions of Roman beauty, had assumed an air of dignified and
calm repose. No longer did the restless eye wander in search of some
imagined object; no longer did the lip quiver into smiles at some untold
hope or half-unconscious recollection. A grave and mournful expression
gave to her face (still how sweet!) a gravity beyond her years. The
bloom, the flush, the April of the heart, was gone; but yet neither
time, nor sorrow, nor blighted love, had stolen from her countenance its
rare and angelic softness--nor that inexpressible and virgin modesty of
form and aspect, which, contrasting the bolder beauties of Italy, had
more than aught else distinguished to Adrian, from all other women, the
idol of his heart. And feeding his gaze upon those dark deep eyes, which
spoke of thought far away and busy with the past, Adrian felt again and
again that he was not forgotten! Hovering near her, but suffering the
crowd to press one after another before him, he did not perceive that he
had attracted the eagle eye of the Senator.

In fact, as one of the maskers passed Rienzi, he whispered, "Beware,
a Colonna is among the masks! beneath the reveller's domino has often
lurked the assassin's dagger. Yonder stands your foe--mark him!"

These words were the first sharp and thrilling intimation of the perils
into which he had rushed, that the Tribune-Senator had received since
his return. He changed colour slightly; and for some minutes the courtly
smile and ready greeting with which he had hitherto delighted every
guest, gave way to a moody abstraction.

"Why stands yon strange man so mute and motionless?" whispered he to
Nina. "He speaks to none--he approaches us not--a churl, a churl!--he
must be seen to."

"Doubtless, some German or English barbarian," answered Nina. "Let not,
my Lord, so slight a cloud dim your merriment."

"You are right, dearest; we have friends here; we are well girt. And, by
my father's ashes, I feel that I must accustom myself to danger. Nina,
let us move on; methinks we might now mix among the maskers--masked
ourselves."

The music played loud and cheerily as the Senator and his party mingled
with the throng. But still his eye turned ever towards the grey domino
of Adrian, and he perceived that it followed his steps. Approaching the
private entrance of the Capitol, he for a few moments lost sight of
his unwelcome pursuer: but just as he entered, turning abruptly, Rienzi
perceived him close at his side--the next moment the stranger had
vanished amidst the throng. But that moment had sufficed to Adrian--he
had reached Irene. "Adrian Colonna (he whispered) waits thee beside the
Lion."

In the absorption of his own reflections, Rienzi fortunately did not
notice the sudden paleness and agitation of his sister. Entered within
his palace, he called for wine--the draught revived his spirits--he
listened smilingly to the sparkling remarks of Nina; and enduing
his mask and disguise, said, with his wonted cheerfulness, "Now for
Truth--strange that in festivals it should only speak behind a vizard!
My sweet sister, thou hast lost thine old smile, and I would rather see
that than--Ha! has Irene vanished?"

"Only, I suppose, to change her dress, my Cola, and mingle with the
revellers," answered Nina. "Let my smile atone for hers."

Rienzi kissed the bright brow of his wife as she clung fondly to his
bosom. "Thy smile is the sunlight," said he; "but this girl disturbs me.
Methinks now, at least, she might wear a gladder aspect."

"Is there nothing of love beneath my fair sister's gloom?" answered
Nina. "Do you not call to mind how she loved Adrian Colonna?"

"Does that fantasy hold still?" returned Rienzi, musingly. "Well, and
she is fit bride for a monarch."

"Yet it were an alliance that would, better than one with monarchs,
strengthen thy power at Rome!"

"Ay, were it possible; but that haughty race!--Perchance this very
masker that so haunted our steps was but her lover. I will look to this.
Let us forth, my Nina. Am I well cloaked?"

"Excellently well--and I?"

"The sun behind a cloud."

"Ah, let us not tarry long; what hour of revel like that when thy hand
in mine, this head upon thy bosom, we forget the sorrows we have known,
and even the triumphs we have shared?"

Meanwhile, Irene, confused and lost amidst a transport of emotion,
already disguised and masked, was threading her way through the crowd
back to the staircase of the Lion. With the absence of the Senator that
spot had comparatively been deserted. Music and the dance attracted the
maskers to another quarter of the wide space. And Irene now approaching,
beheld the moonlight fall over the statue, and a solitary figure leaning
against the pedestal. She paused, the figure approached, and again she
heard the voice of her early love.

"Oh, Irene! recognised even in this disguise," said Adrian, seizing her
trembling hand; "have I lived to gaze again upon that form--to touch
this hand? Did not these eyes behold thee lifeless in that fearful
vault, which I shudder to recall? By what miracle wert thou raised
again? By what means did Heaven spare to this earth one that it seemed
already to have placed amongst its angels?"

"Was this, indeed, thy belief?" said Irene, falteringly, but with an
accent eloquent of joy. "Thou didst not then willingly desert me? Unjust
that I was, I wronged thy noble nature, and deemed that my brother's
fall, my humble lineage, thy brilliant fate, had made thee renounce
Irene."

"Unjust indeed!" answered the lover. "But surely I saw thee amongst the
dead!--thy cloak, with the silver stars--who else wore the arms of the
Roman Tribune?"

"Was it but the cloak then, which, dropped in the streets, was probably
assumed by some more ill-fated victim; was it that sight alone, that
made thee so soon despair? Ah! Adrian," continued Irene, tenderly, but
with reproach; "not even when I saw thee seemingly lifeless on the
couch by which I had watched three days and nights, not even then did I
despair!"

"What, then, my vision did not deceive me! It was you who watched by my
bed in that grim hour, whose love guarded, whose care preserved me! And
I, wretch that I was!--"

"Nay," answered Irene, "your thought was natural. Heaven seemed to endow
me with superhuman strength, whilst I was necessary to thee. But judge
of my dismay. I left thee to seek the good friar who attended thee as
thy leech; I returned, and found thee not. Heart-sick and terrified, I
searched the desolate city in vain. Strong as I was while hope supported
me, I sunk beneath fear.--And my brother found me senseless, and
stretched on the ground, by the church of St. Mark."

"The church of St. Mark!--so foretold his dream!"

"He had told me he had met thee; we searched for thee in vain; at length
we heard that thou hadst left the city, and--and--I rejoiced, Adrian,
but I repined!"

For some minutes the young lovers surrendered themselves to the delight
of reunion, while new explanations called forth new transports.

"And now," murmured Irene, "now that we have met--" she paused, and her
mask concealed her blushes.

"Now that we have met," said Adrian, filling up the silence, "wouldst
thou say further, 'that we should not part?' Trust me, dearest, that is
the hope that animates my heart. It was but to enjoy these brief bright
moments with thee, that I delayed my departure to Palestrina. Could
I but hope to bring my young cousin into amity with thy brother, no
barrier would prevent our union. Willingly I forget the past--the death
of my unhappy kinsmen, (victims, it is true, to their own faults;)
and, perhaps, amidst all the crowds that hailed his return, none more
appreciated the great and lofty qualities of Cola di Rienzi, than did
Adrian Colonna."

"If this be so," said Irene, "let me hope the best; meanwhile, it is
enough of comfort and of happiness to know, that we love each other as
of old. Ah, Adrian, I am sadly changed; and often have I thought it
a thing beyond my dreams, that thou shouldst see me again and love me
still."

"Fairer art thou and lovelier than ever," answered Adrian, passionately;
"and time, which has ripened thy bloom, has but taught me more deeply to
feel thy value. Farewell, Irene, I linger here no longer; thou wilt, I
trust, hear soon of my success with my House, and ere the week be over I
may return to claim thy hand in the face of day."

The lovers parted; Adrian lingered on the spot, and Irene hastened to
bury her emotion and her raptures in her own chamber.

As her form vanished, and the young Colonna slowly turned away, a tall
mask strode abruptly towards him.

"Thou art a Colonna," it said, "and in the power of the Senator. Dost
thou tremble?"

"If I be a Colonna, rude masker," answered Adrian, coldly, "thou
shouldst know the old proverb, 'He who stirs the column, shall rue the
fall.'"

The stranger laughed aloud, and then lifting his mask, Adrian saw that
it was the Senator who stood before him.

"My Lord Adrian di Castello," said Rienzi, resuming all his gravity, "is
it as friend or foe that you have honoured our revels this night?"

"Senator of Rome," answered Adrian, with equal stateliness, "I partake
of no man's hospitality but as a friend. A foe, at least to you, I trust
never justly to be esteemed."

"I would," rejoined Rienzi, "that I could apply to myself unreservedly
that most flattering speech. Are these friendly feelings entertained
towards me as the Governor of the Roman people, or as the brother of the
woman who has listened to your vows?"

Adrian, who when the Senator had unmasked had followed his example,
felt at these words that his eye quailed beneath Rienzi's. However, he
recovered himself with the wonted readiness of an Italian, and replied
laconically,

"As both."

"Both!" echoed Rienzi. "Then, indeed, noble Adrian, you are welcome
hither. And yet, methinks, if you conceived there was no cause for
enmity between us, you would have wooed the sister of Cola di Rienzi
in a guise more worthy of your birth; and, permit me to add, of that
station which God, destiny, and my country, have accorded unto me. You
dare not, young Colonna, meditate dishonour to the sister of the Senator
of Rome. Highborn as you are, she is your equal."

"Were I the Emperor, whose simple knight I but am, your sister were my
equal," answered Adrian, warmly. "Rienzi, I grieve that I am discovered
to you yet. I had trusted that, as a mediator between the Barons and
yourself, I might first have won your confidence, and then claimed my
reward. Know that with tomorrow's dawn I depart for Palestrina, seeking
to reconcile my young cousin to the choice of the People and the
Pontiff. Various reasons, which I need not now detail, would have
made me wish to undertake this heraldry of peace without previous
communication with you. But since we have met, intrust me with any
terms of conciliation, and I pledge you the right hand, not of a Roman
noble--alas! the prisca fides has departed from that pledge!--but of a
Knight of the Imperial Court, that I will not betray your confidence."

Rienzi, accustomed to read the human countenance, had kept his eyes
intently fixed upon Adrian while he spoke; when the Colonna concluded,
he pressed the proffered hand, and said, with that familiar and winning
sweetness which at times was so peculiar to his manner,

"I trust you, Adrian, from my soul. You were mine early friend in
calmer, perchance happier, years. And never did river reflect the stars
more clearly, than your heart then mirrored back the truth. I trust
you!"

While thus speaking, he had mechanically led back the Colonna to the
statue of the Lion; there pausing, he resumed:

"Know that I have this morning despatched my delegate to your cousin
Stefanello. With all due courtesy, I have apprised him of my return to
Rome, and invited hither his honoured presence. Forgetting all ancient
feuds, mine own past exile, I have assured him, here, the station and
dignity due to the head of the Colonna. All that I ask in return is
obedience to the law. Years and reverses have abated my younger pride,
and though I may yet preserve the sternness of the Judge, none shall
hereafter complain of the insolence of the Tribune."

"I would," answered Adrian, "that your mission to Stefanello had been
delayed a day; I would fain have forestalled its purport. Howbeit, you
increase my desire of departure, should I yet succeed in obtaining an
honourable and peaceful reconciliation, it is not in disguise that I
will woo your sister."

"And never did Colonna," replied Rienzi, loftily, "bring to his House
a maiden whose alliance more gratified ambition. I still see, as I have
seen ever, in mine own projects, and mine own destinies, the chart of
the new Roman Empire!"

"Be not too sanguine yet, brave Rienzi," replied Adrian, laying his hand
on the Lion of Basalt: "bethink thee on how many scheming brains this
dumb image of stone hath looked down from its pedestal--schemes of sand,
and schemers of dust. Thou hast enough, at present, for the employ of
all thine energy--not to extend thy power, but to preserve thyself. For,
trust me, never stood human greatness on so wild and dark a precipice!"

"Thou art honest," said the Senator; "and these are the first words of
doubt, and yet of sympathy, I have heard in Rome. But the People love
me, the Barons have fled from Rome, the Pontiff approves, and the swords
of the Northmen guard the avenues of the Capitol. But these are nought;
in mine own honesty are my spear and buckler. Oh, never," continued
Rienzi, kindling with his enthusiasm, "never since the days of the old
Republic, did Roman dream a purer and a brighter aspiration, than
that which animates and supports me now. Peace restored--law
established--art, letters, intellect, dawning upon the night of time;
the Patricians, no longer bandits of rapine, but the guard of order;
the People ennobled from a mob, brave to protect, enlightened to guide,
themselves. Then, not by the violence of arms, but by the majesty of
her moral power, shall the Mother of Nations claim the obedience of her
children. Thus dreaming and thus hoping, shall I tremble or despond? No,
Adrian Colonna, come weal or woe, I abide, unshrinking and unawed, by
the chances of my doom!"

So much did the manner and the tone of the Senator exalt his language,
that even the sober sense of Adrian was enchanted and subdued. He kissed
the hand he held, and said earnestly,

"A doom that I will deem it my boast to share--a career that it will be
my glory to smooth. If I succeed in my present mission--"

"You are my brother!" said Rienzi.

"If I fail?"

"You may equally claim that alliance. You pause--you change colour."

"Can I desert my house?"

"Young Lord," said Rienzi, loftily, "say rather can you desert your
country? If you doubt my honesty, if you fear my ambition, desist from
your task, rob me not of a single foe. But if you believe that I have
the will and the power to serve the State--if you recognise, even in the
reverses and calamities I have known and mastered, the protecting hand
of the Saviour of Nations--if those reverses were but the mercies of Him
who chasteneth--necessary, it may be, to correct my earlier daring and
sharpen yet more my intellect--if, in a word, thou believest me one
whom, whatever be his faults, God hath preserved for the sake of Rome,
forget that you are a Colonna--remember only that you are a Roman!"

"You have conquered me, strange and commanding spirit," said Adrian, in
a low voice, completely carried away; "and whatever the conduct of my
kindred, I am yours and Rome's. Farewell."



Chapter 9.III. Adrian's Adventures at Palestrina.

It was yet noon when Adrian beheld before him the lofty mountains that
shelter Palestrina, the Praeneste of the ancient world. Back to a
period before Romulus existed, in the earliest ages of that mysterious
civilisation which in Italy preceded the birth of Rome, could be traced
the existence and the power of that rocky city. Eight dependent towns
owned its sway and its wealth; its position, and the strength of those
mighty walls, in whose ruins may yet be traced the masonry of the remote
Pelasgi, had long braved the ambition of the neighbouring Rome. From
that very citadel, the Mural Crown (Hence, apparently, its Greek name of
Stephane. Palestrina is yet one of the many proofs which the vicinity of
Rome affords of the old Greek civilization of Italy.) of the mountain,
had waved the standard of Marius; and up the road which Adrian's scanty
troop slowly wound, had echoed the march of the murtherous Sylla, on his
return from the Mithridatic war. Below, where the city spread towards
the plain, were yet seen the shattered and roofless columns of the once
celebrated Temple of Fortune; and still the immemorial olives clustered
grey and mournfully around the ruins.

A more formidable hold the Barons of Rome could not have selected; and
as Adrian's military eye scanned the steep ascent and the rugged walls,
he felt that with ordinary skill it might defy for months all the power
of the Roman Senator. Below, in the fertile valley, dismantled cottages
and trampled harvests attested the violence and rapine of the insurgent
Barons; and at that very moment were seen, in the old plain of the
warlike Hernici, troops of armed men, driving before them herds of sheep
and cattle, collected in their lawless incursions. In sight of that
Praeneste, which had been the favourite retreat of the luxurious Lords
of Rome in its most polished day, the Age of Iron seemed renewed.

The banner of the Colonna, borne by Adrian's troop, obtained ready
admittance at the Porta del Sole. As he passed up the irregular
and narrow streets that ascended to the citadel, groups of foreign
mercenaries,--half-ragged, half-tawdry knots of abandoned women,--mixed
here and there with the liveries of the Colonna, stood loitering amidst
the ruins of ancient fanes and palaces, or basked lazily in the sun,
upon terraces, through which, from amidst weeds and grass, glowed the
imperishable hues of the rich mosaics, which had made the pride of that
lettered and graceful nobility, of whom savage freebooters were now the
heirs.

The contrast between the Past and Present forcibly occurred to Adrian,
as he passed along; and, despite his order, he felt as if Civilization
itself were enlisted against his House upon the side of Rienzi.

Leaving his train in the court of the citadel, Adrian demanded admission
to the presence of his cousin. He had left Stefanello a child on his
departure from Rome, and there could therefore be but a slight and
unfamiliar acquaintance betwixt them, despite their kindred.

Peals of laughter came upon his ear, as he followed one of Stefanello's
gentlemen through a winding passage that led to the principal chamber.
The door was thrown open, and Adrian found himself in a rude hall, to
which some appearance of hasty state and attempted comfort had been
given. Costly arras imperfectly clothed the stone walls, and the rich
seats and decorated tables, which the growing civilization of the
northern cities of Italy had already introduced into the palaces of
Italian nobles, strangely contrasted the rough pavement, spread with
heaps of armour negligently piled around. At the farther end of the
apartment, Adrian shudderingly perceived, set in due and exact order,
the implements of torture.

Stefanello Colonna, with two other Barons, indolently reclined on seats
drawn around a table, in the recess of a deep casement, from which might
be still seen the same glorious landscape, bounded by the dim spires
of Rome, which Hannibal and Pyrrhus had ascended that very citadel to
survey!

Stefanello himself, in the first bloom of youth, bore already on his
beardless countenance those traces usually the work of the passions and
vices of maturest manhood. His features were cast in the mould of the
old Stephen's; in their clear, sharp, high-bred outline might be noticed
that regular and graceful symmetry, which blood, in men as in animals,
will sometimes entail through generations; but the features were wasted
and meagre. His brows were knit in an eternal frown; his thin and
bloodless lips wore that insolent contempt which seems so peculiarly
cold and unlovely in early youth; and the deep and livid hollows round
his eyes, spoke of habitual excess and premature exhaustion. By him sat
(reconciled by hatred to one another) the hereditary foes of his race;
the soft, but cunning and astute features of Luca di Savelli, contrasted
with the broad frame and ferocious countenance of the Prince of the
Orsini.

The young head of the Colonna rose with some cordiality to receive his
cousin. "Welcome," he said, "dear Adrian; you are arrived in time to
assist us with your well-known military skill. Think you not we shall
stand a long siege, if the insolent plebeian dare adventure it? You know
our friends, the Orsini and the Savelli? Thanks to St. Peter, or Peter's
delegate, we have now happily meaner throats to cut than those of each
other!"

Thus saying, Stefanello again threw himself listlessly on his seat, and
the shrill, woman's voice of Savelli took part in the dialogue.

"I would, noble Signor, that you had come a few hours earlier: we are
still making merry at the recollection--he, he, he!"

"Ah, excellent," cried Stefanello, joining in the laugh; "our cousin has
had a loss. Know Adrian, that this base fellow, whom the Pope has
had the impudence to create Senator, dared but yesterday to send us a
varlet, whom he called--by our Lady!--his ambassador!"

"Would you could have seen his mantle, Signor Adrian!" chimed in the
Savelli: "purple velvet, as I live, decorated in gold, with the arms of
Rome: we soon spoiled his finery."

"What!" exclaimed Adrian, "you did not break the laws of all nobility
and knighthood?--you offered no insult to a herald!"

"Herald, sayst thou?" cried Stefanello, frowning till his eyes were
scarce visible. "It is for Princes and Barons alone to employ heralds.
An' I had had my will, I would have sent back the minion's head to the
usurper."

"What did ye then?" asked Adrian, coldly.

"Bade our swineherds dip the fellow in the ditch, and gave him a night's
lodging in a dungeon to dry himself withal."

"And this morning--he, he, he!" added the Savelli, "we had him before
us, and drew his teeth, one by one;--I would you could have heard the
fellow mumble out for mercy!"

Adrian rose hastily, and struck the table fiercely with his gauntlet.

"Stefanello Colonna," said he, colouring with noble rage, "answer me:
did you dare to inflict this indelible disgrace upon the name we jointly
bear? Tell me, at least, that you protested against this foul treason to
all the laws of civilization and of honour. You answer not. House of the
Colonna, can such be thy representative!"

"To me these words!" said Stefanello, trembling with passion. "Beware!
Methinks thou art the traitor, leagued perhaps with yon rascal mob. Well
do I remember that thou, the betrothed of the Demagogue's sister, didst
not join with my uncle and my father of old, but didst basely leave the
city to her plebeian tyrant."

"That did he!" said the fierce Orsini, approaching Adrian menacingly,
while the gentle cowardice of Savelli sought in vain to pluck him back
by the mantle--"that did he! and but for thy presence, Stefanello--"

"Coward and blusterer!" interrupted Adrian, fairly beside himself with
indignation and shame, and dashing his gauntlet in the very face of
the advancing Orsini--"wouldst thou threaten one who has maintained, in
every list of Europe, and against the stoutest Chivalry of the North,
the honour of Rome, which thy deeds the while disgraced? By this gage,
I spit upon and defy thee. With lance and with brand, on horse and on
foot, I maintain against thee and all thy line, that thou art no knight
to have thus maltreated, in thy strongholds, a peaceful and unarmed
herald. Yes, even here, on the spot of thy disgrace, I challenge thee to
arms!"

"To the court below! Follow me," said Orsini, sullenly, and striding
towards the threshold. "What, ho there! my helmet and breast-plate!"

"Stay, noble Orsini," said Stefanello. "The insult offered to thee is my
quarrel--mine was the deed--and against me speaks this degenerate scion
of our line. Adrian di Castello--sometime called Colonna--surrender your
sword: you are my prisoner!"

"Oh!" said Adrian, grinding his teeth, "that my ancestral blood did
not flow through thy veins--else--but enough! Me! your equal, and the
favoured Knight of the Emperor, whose advent now brightens the frontiers
of Italy!--me--you dare not detain. For your friends, I shall meet
them yet perhaps, ere many days are over, where none shall separate our
swords. Till then, remember, Orsini, that it is against no unpractised
arm that thou wilt have to redeem thine honour!"