Rienzi

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Rienzi




Chapter 1.IV. An Adventure.

Avoiding the broken streams of the dispersed crowd, Adrian Colonna
strode rapidly down one of the narrow streets leading to his palace,
which was situated at no inconsiderable distance from the place in which
the late contest had occurred. The education of his life made him feel
a profound interest, not only in the divisions and disputes of his
country, but also in the scene he had just witnessed, and the authority
exercised by Rienzi.

An orphan of a younger, but opulent branch of the Colonna, Adrian had
been brought up under the care and guardianship of his kinsman, that
astute, yet valiant Stephen Colonna, who, of all the nobles of Rome, was
the most powerful, alike from the favour of the pope, and the number
of armed hirelings whom his wealth enabled him to maintain. Adrian
had early manifested what in that age was considered an extraordinary
disposition towards intellectual pursuits, and had acquired much of
the little that was then known of the ancient language and the ancient
history of his country.

Though Adrian was but a boy at the time in which, first presented to the
reader, he witnessed the emotions of Rienzi at the death of his brother,
his kind heart had been penetrated with sympathy for Cola's affliction,
and shame for the apathy of his kinsmen at the result of their own
feuds. He had earnestly sought the friendship of Rienzi, and, despite
his years, had become aware of the power and energy of his character.
But though Rienzi, after a short time, had appeared to think no more of
his brother's death--though he again entered the halls of the Colonna,
and shared their disdainful hospitalities, he maintained a certain
distance and reserve of manner, which even Adrian could only partially
overcome. He rejected every offer of service, favour, or promotion; and
any unwonted proof of kindness from Adrian seemed, instead of making him
more familiar, to offend him into colder distance. The easy humour and
conversational vivacity which had first rendered him a welcome guest
with those who passed their lives between fighting and feasting, had
changed into a vein ironical, cynical, and severe. But the dull barons
were equally amused at his wit, and Adrian was almost the only one who
detected the serpent couched beneath the smile.

Often Rienzi sat at the feast, silent, but observant, as if watching
every look, weighing every word, taking gauge and measurement of the
intellect, policy, temperament, of every guest; and when he had seemed
to satisfy himself, his spirits would rise, his words flow, and
while his dazzling but bitter wit lit up the revel, none saw that the
unmirthful flash was the token of the coming storm. But all the while,
he neglected no occasion to mix with the humbler citizens, to stir up
their minds, to inflame their imaginations, to kindle their emulation,
with pictures of the present and with legends of the past. He grew in
popularity and repute, and was yet more in power with the herd, because
in favour with the nobles. Perhaps it was for that reason that he had
continued the guest of the Colonna.

When, six years before the present date, the Capitol of the Caesars
witnessed the triumph of Petrarch, the scholastic fame of the young
Rienzi had attracted the friendship of the poet,--a friendship that
continued, with slight interruption, to the last, through careers
so widely different; and afterwards, one among the Roman Deputies to
Avignon, he had been conjoined with Petrarch (According to the modern
historians; but it seems more probable that Rienzi's mission to Avignon
was posterior to that of Petrarch. However this be, it was at Avignon
that Petrarch and Rienzi became most intimate, as Petrarch himself
observes in one of his letters.) to supplicate Clement VI. to remove
the Holy See from Avignon to Rome. It was in this mission that, for
the first time, he evinced his extraordinary powers of eloquence and
persuasion. The pontiff, indeed, more desirous of ease than glory, was
not convinced by the arguments, but he was enchanted with the pleader;
and Rienzi returned to Rome, loaded with honours, and clothed with the
dignity of high and responsible office. No longer the inactive scholar,
the gay companion, he rose at once to pre-eminence above all his
fellow-citizens. Never before had authority been borne with so austere
an integrity, so uncorrupt a zeal. He had sought to impregnate his
colleagues with the same loftiness of principle--he had failed. Now
secure in his footing, he had begun openly to appeal to the people; and
already a new spirit seemed to animate the populace of Rome.

While these were the fortunes of Rienzi, Adrian had been long separated
from him, and absent from Rome.

The Colonna were staunch supporters of the imperial party, and Adrian di
Castello had received and obeyed an invitation to the Emperor's court.
Under that monarch he had initiated himself in arms, and, among the
knights of Germany, he had learned to temper the natural Italian
shrewdness with the chivalry of northern valour.

In leaving Bavaria, he had sojourned a short time in the solitude of one
of his estates by the fairest lake of northern Italy; and thence, with
a mind improved alike by action and study, had visited many of the free
Italian states, imbibed sentiments less prejudiced than those of his
order, and acquired an early reputation for himself while inly marking
the characters and deeds of others. In him, the best qualities of the
Italian noble were united. Passionately addicted to the cultivation
of letters, subtle and profound in policy, gentle and bland of manner,
dignifying a love of pleasure with a certain elevation of taste, he yet
possessed a gallantry of conduct, and purity of honour, and an
aversion from cruelty, which were then very rarely found in the Italian
temperament, and which even the Chivalry of the North, while maintaining
among themselves, usually abandoned the moment they came into contact
with the systematic craft and disdain of honesty, which made the
character of the ferocious, yet wily, South. With these qualities he
combined, indeed, the softer passions of his countrymen,--he adored
Beauty, and he made a deity of Love.

He had but a few weeks returned to his native city, whither his
reputation had already preceded him, and where his early affection for
letters and gentleness of bearing were still remembered. He returned to
find the position of Rienzi far more altered than his own. Adrian had
not yet sought the scholar. He wished first to judge with his own eyes,
and at a distance, of the motives and object of his conduct; for partly
he caught the suspicions which his own order entertained of Rienzi, and
partly he shared in the trustful enthusiasm of the people.

"Certainly," said he now to himself, as he walked musingly onward,
"certainly, no man has it more in his power to reform our diseased
state, to heal our divisions, to awaken our citizens to the
recollections of ancestral virtue. But that very power, how dangerous
is it! Have I not seen, in the free states of Italy, men, called into
authority for the sake of preserving the people, honest themselves at
first, and then, drunk with the sudden rank, betraying the very cause
which had exalted them? True, those men were chiefs and nobles; but are
plebeians less human? Howbeit I have heard and seen enough from afar,--I
will now approach, and examine the man himself."

While thus soliloquizing, Adrian but little noted the various
passengers, who, more and more rarely as the evening waned, hastened
homeward. Among these were two females, who now alone shared with Adrian
the long and gloomy street into which he had entered. The moon was
already bright in the heavens, and, as the women passed the cavalier
with a light and quick step, the younger one turned back and regarded
him by the clear light with an eager, yet timid glance.

"Why dost thou tremble, my pretty one!" said her companion, who might
have told some five-and-forty years, and whose garb and voice bespoke
her of inferior rank to the younger female. "The streets seem quiet
enough now, and, the Virgin be praised! we are not so far from home
either."

"Oh, Benedetta, it is he! it is the young signor--it is Adrian!"

"That is fortunate," said the nurse, for such was her condition, "since
they say he is as bold as a Northman: and as the Palazzo Colonna is not
very far from hence, we shall be within reach of his aid should we want
it: that is to say, sweet one, if you will walk a little slower than you
have yet done."

The young lady slackened her pace, and sighed.

"He is certainly very handsome," quoth the nurse: "but thou must not
think more of him; he is too far above thee for marriage, and for aught
else, thou art too honest, and thy brother too proud--"

"And thou, Benedetta, art too quick with thy tongue. How canst thou talk
thus, when thou knowest he hath never, since, at least, I was a mere
child, even addressed me: nay, he scarce knows of my very existence. He,
the Lord Adrian di Castello, dream of the poor Irene! The mere thought
is madness!"

"Then why," said the nurse, briskly, "dost thou dream of him?"

Her companion sighed again more deeply than at first.

"Holy St. Catherine!" continued Benedetta, "if there were but one man in
the world, I would die single ere I would think of him, until, at least,
he had kissed my hand twice, and left it my own fault if it were not my
lips instead."

The young lady still replied not.

"But how didst thou contrive to love him?" asked the nurse. "Thou canst
not have seen him very often: it is but some four or five weeks since
his return to Rome."

"Oh, how dull art thou?" answered the fair Irene. "Have I not told thee
again and again, that I loved him six years ago?"

"When thou hadst told but thy tenth year, and a doll would have been thy
most suitable lover! As I am a Christian, Signora, thou hast made good
use of thy time.

"And during his absence," continued the girl, fondly, yet sadly, "did
I not hear him spoken of, and was not the mere sound of his name like a
love-gift that bade me remember? And when they praised him, have I not
rejoiced? and when they blamed him, have I not resented? and when they
said that his lance was victorious in the tourney, did I not weep with
pride? and when they whispered that his vows were welcome in the bower,
wept I not as fervently with grief? Have not the six years of his
absence been a dream, and was not his return a waking into light--a
morning of glory and the sun? and I see him now in the church when he
wots not of me; and on his happy steed as he passes by my lattice: and
is not that enough of happiness for love?"

"But if he loves not thee?"

"Fool! I ask not that;--nay, I know not if I wish it. Perhaps I would
rather dream of him, such as I would have him, than know him for what
he is. He might be unkind, or ungenerous, or love me but little; rather
would I not be loved at all, than loved coldly, and eat away my heart by
comparing it with his. I can love him now as something abstract, unreal,
and divine: but what would be my shame, my grief, if I were to find him
less than I have imagined! Then, indeed, my life would have been wasted;
then, indeed, the beauty of the earth would be gone!"

The good nurse was not very capable of sympathizing with sentiments like
these. Even had their characters been more alike, their disparity of age
would have rendered such sympathy impossible. What but youth can echo
back the soul of youth--all the music of its wild vanities and romantic
follies? The good nurse did not sympathize with the sentiments of her
young lady, but she sympathised with the deep earnestness with which
they were expressed. She thought it wondrous silly, but wondrous moving;
she wiped her eyes with the corner of her veil, and hoped in her secret
heart that her young charge would soon get a real husband to put such
unsubstantial fantasies out of her head. There was a short pause in
their conversation, when, just where two streets crossed one another,
there was heard a loud noise of laughing voices and trampling feet.
Torches were seen on high affronting the pale light of the moon; and,
at a very short distance from the two females, in the cross street,
advanced a company of seven or eight men, bearing, as seen by the red
light of the torches, the formidable badge of the Orsini.

Amidst the other disorders of the time, it was no unfrequent custom
for the younger or more dissolute of the nobles, in small and armed
companies, to parade the streets at night, seeking occasion for a
licentious gallantry among the cowering citizens, or a skirmish at arms
with some rival stragglers of their own order. Such a band had Irene and
her companion now chanced to encounter.

"Holy mother!" cried Benedetta, turning pale, and half running, "what
curse has befallen us? How could we have been so foolish as to tarry so
late at the lady Nina's! Run, Signora,--run, or we shall fall into their
hands!"

But the advice of Benedetta came too late,--the fluttering garments
of the women had been already descried: in a moment more they were
surrounded by the marauders. A rude hand tore aside Benedetta's veil,
and at sight of features, which, if time had not spared, it could never
very materially injure, the rough aggressor cast the poor nurse against
the wall with a curse, which was echoed by a loud laugh from his
comrades.

"Thou hast a fine fortune in faces Giuseppe!"

"Yes; it was but the other day that he seized on a girl of sixty."

"And then, by way of improving her beauty, cut her across the face with
his dagger, because she was not sixteen!"

"Hush, fellows! whom have we here?" said the chief of the party, a man
richly dressed, and who, though bordering upon middle age, had only
the more accustomed himself to the excesses of youth; as he spoke,
he snatched the trembling Irene from the grasp of his followers. "Ho,
there! the torches! Oh che bella faccia! what blushes--what eyes!--nay,
look not down, pretty one; thou needst not be ashamed to win the love
of an Orsini--yes; know the triumph thou hast achieved--it is Martino di
Porto who bids thee smile upon him!"

"For the blest Mother's sake release me! Nay, sir, this must not be--I
am not unfriended--this insult shall not pass!"

"Hark to her silver chiding; it is better than my best hound's bay!
This adventure is worth a month's watching. What! will you not
come?--restive--shrieks too!--Francesco, Pietro, ye are the gentlest of
the band. Wrap her veil around her,--muffle this music;--so! bear her
before me to the palace, and tomorrow, sweet one, thou shalt go home
with a basket of florins which thou mayest say thou hast bought at
market."

But Irene's shrieks, Irene's struggles, had already brought succour to
her side, and, as Adrian approached the spot, the nurse flung herself on
her knees before him.

"Oh, sweet signor, for Christ's grace save us! Deliver my young
mistress--her friends love you well! We are all for the Colonna,
my lord; yes, indeed, all for the Colonna! Save the kin of your own
clients, gracious signor!"

"It is enough that she is a woman," answered Adrian, adding, between his
teeth, "and that an Orsini is her assailant." He strode haughtily into
the thickest of the group; the servitors laid hands on their swords, but
gave way before him as they recognised his person; he reached the two
men who had already seized Irene; in one moment he struck the foremost
to the ground, in another, he had passed his left arm round the light
and slender form of the maiden, and stood confronting the Orsini with
his drawn blade, which, however, he pointed to the ground.

"For shame, my lord--for shame!" said he, indignantly. "Will you force
Rome to rise, to a man, against our order? Vex not too far the lion,
chained though he be; war against us if ye will! draw your blades upon
men, though they be of your own race, and speak your own tongue: but
if ye would sleep at nights, and not dread the avenger's gripe,--if ye
would walk the market-place secure,--wrong not a Roman woman! Yes, the
very walls around us preach to you the punishment of such a deed: for
that offence fell the Tarquins,--for that offence were swept away the
Decemvirs,--for that offence, if ye rush upon it, the blood of your
whole house may flow like water. Cease, then, my lord, from this mad
attempt, so unworthy your great name; cease, and thank even a Colonna
that he has come between you and a moment's frenzy!"

So noble, so lofty were the air and gesture of Adrian, as he thus
spoke, that even the rude servitors felt a thrill of approbation and
remorse--not so Martino di Porto. He had been struck with the beauty of
the prey thus suddenly snatched from him; he had been accustomed to
long outrage and to long impunity; the very sight, the very voice of a
Colonna, was a blight to his eye and a discord to his ear: what, then,
when a Colonna interfered with his lusts, and rebuked his vices?

"Pedant!" he cried, with quivering lips, "prate not to me of thy vain
legends and gossip's tales! think not to snatch from me my possession
in another, when thine own life is in my hands. Unhand the maiden! throw
down thy sword! return home without further parley, or, by my faith, and
the blades of my followers--(look at them well!)--thou diest!"

"Signor," said Adrian, calmly, yet while he spoke he retreated gradually
with his fair burthen towards the neighbouring wall, so as at least to
leave only his front exposed to those fearful odds: "Thou will not so
misuse the present chances, and wrong thyself in men's mouths, as to
attack with eight swords even thy hereditary foe, thus cumbered, too, as
he is. But--nay hold!--if thou art so proposed, bethink thee well, one
cry of my voice would soon turn the odds against thee. Thou art now in
the quarter of my tribe; thou art surrounded by the habitations of the
Colonna: yon palace swarms with men who sleep not, save with harness
on their backs; men whom my voice can reach even now, but from whom, if
they once taste of blood, it could not save thee!"

"He speaks true, noble Lord," said one of the band: "we have wandered
too far out of our beat; we are in their very den; the palace of old
Stephen Colonna is within call; and, to my knowledge," added he, in
a whisper, "eighteen fresh men-of-arms--ay, and Northmen too--marched
through its gates this day."

"Were there eight hundred men at arm's length," answered Martino
furiously, "I would not be thus bearded amidst mine own train! Away with
yon woman! To the attack! to the attack!"

Thus saying, he made a desperate lunge at Adrian, who, having kept his
eye cautiously on the movements of his enemy, was not unprepared for the
assault. As he put aside the blade with his own, he shouted with a loud
voice--"Colonna! to the rescue, Colonna!"

Nor had it been without an ulterior object that the acute and
self-controlling mind of Adrian had hitherto sought to prolong the
parley. Even as he first addressed Orsini, he had perceived, by the
moonlight, the glitter of armour upon two men advancing from the far end
of the street, and judged at once, by the neighbourhood, that they must
be among the mercenaries of the Colonna.

Gently he suffered the form of Irene, which now, for she had swooned
with the terror, pressed too heavily upon him, to slide from his left
arm, and standing over her form, while sheltered from behind by the wall
which he had so warily gained, he contented himself with parrying the
blows hastily aimed at him, without attempting to retaliate. Few of the
Romans, however accustomed to such desultory warfare, were then well
and dexterously practised in the use of arms; and the science Adrian had
acquired in the schools of the martial north, befriended him now, even
against such odds. It is true, indeed, that the followers of Orsini did
not share the fury of their lord; partly afraid of the consequence to
themselves should the blood of so highborn a signor be spilt by their
hands, partly embarrassed with the apprehension that they should see
themselves suddenly beset with the ruthless hirelings so close within
hearing, they struck but aimless and random blows, looking every moment
behind and aside, and rather prepared for flight than slaughter. Echoing
the cry of "Colonna," poor Benedetta fled at the first clash of swords.
She ran down the dreary street still shrieking that cry, and passed the
very portals of Stephen's palace (where some grim forms yet loitered)
without arresting her steps there, so great were her confusion and
terror.

Meanwhile, the two armed men, whom Adrian had descried, proceeded
leisurely up the street. The one was of a rude and common mould, his
arms and his complexion testified his calling and race; and by the great
respect he paid to his companion, it was evident that that companion was
no native of Italy. For the brigands of the north, while they served the
vices of the southern, scarce affected to disguise their contempt for
his cowardice.

The companion of the brigand was a man of a martial, yet easy air. He
wore no helmet, but a cap of crimson velvet, set off with a white plume;
on his mantle, or surcoat, which was of scarlet, was wrought a broad
white cross, both at back and breast; and so brilliant was the polish
of his corselet, that, as from time to time the mantle waved aside and
exposed it to the moonbeams, it glittered like light itself.

"Nay, Rodolf," said he, "if thou hast so good a lot of it here with that
hoary schemer, Heaven forbid that I should wish to draw thee back again
to our merry band. But tell me--this Rienzi--thinkest thou he has any
solid and formidable power?"

"Pshaw! noble chieftain, not a whit of it. He pleases the mob; but as
for the nobles, they laugh at him; and, as for the soldiers, he has no
money!"

"He pleases the mob, then!"

"Ay, that doth he; and when he speaks aloud to them, all the roar of
Rome is hushed."

"Humph!--when nobles are hated, and soldiers are bought, a mob may, in
any hour, become the master. An honest people and a weak mob,--a corrupt
people and a strong mob," said the other, rather to himself than to
his comrade, and scarce, perhaps, conscious of the eternal truth of his
aphorism. "He is no mere brawler, this Rienzi, I suspect--I must see to
it. Hark! what noise is that? By the Holy Sepulchre, it is the ring of
our own metal!"

"And that cry--'a Colonna!'" exclaimed Rodolf. "Pardon me, master,--I
must away to the rescue!"

"Ay, it is the duty of thy hire; run;--yet stay, I will accompany thee,
gratis for once, and from pure passion for mischief. By this hand, there
is no music like clashing steel!"

Still Adrian continued gallantly and unwounded to defend himself, though
his arm now grew tired, his breath well-nigh spent, and his eyes began
to wink and reel beneath the glare of the tossing torches. Orsini
himself, exhausted by his fury, had paused for an instant, fronting
his foe with a heaving breast and savage looks, when, suddenly,
his followers exclaimed, "Fly! fly!--the bandits approach--we are
surrounded!"--and two of the servitors, without further parley, took
fairly to their heels. The other five remained irresolute, and waiting
but the command of their master, when he of the white plume, whom I have
just described, thrust himself into the melee.

"What! gentles," said he, "have ye finished already? Nay, let us not
mar the sport; begin again, I beseech you. What are the odds? Ho! six
to one!--nay, no wonder that ye have waited for fairer play. See, we two
will take the weaker side. Now then, let us begin again."

"Insolent!" cried the Orsini. "Knowest thou him whom thou addressest
thus arrogantly?--I am Martino di Porto. Who art thou?"

"Walter de Montreal, gentleman of Provence, and Knight of St. John!"
answered the other, carelessly.

At that redoubted name--the name of one of the boldest warriors, and of
the most accomplished freebooter of his time--even Martino's cheek grew
pale, and his followers uttered a cry of terror.

"And this, my comrade," continued the Knight, "for we may as well
complete the introduction, is probably better known to you than I am,
gentles of Rome; and you doubtless recognize in him Rodolf of Saxony, a
brave man and a true, where he is properly paid for his services."

"Signor," said Adrian to his enemy, who, aghast and dumb, remained
staring vacantly at the two new-comers, "you are now in my power. See,
our own people, too, are approaching."

And, indeed, from the palace of Stephen Colonna, torches began to blaze,
and armed men were seen rapidly advancing to the spot.

"Go home in peace, and if, tomorrow, or any day more suitable to thee,
thou wilt meet me alone, and lance to lance, as is the wont of the
knights of the empire; or with band to band, and man for man, as is
rather the Roman custom; I will not fail thee--there is my gage."

"Nobly spoken," said Montreal; "and, if ye choose the latter, by your
leave, I will be one of the party."

Martino answered not; he took up the glove, thrust it in his bosom, and
strode hastily away; only, when he had got some paces down the street,
he turned back, and, shaking his clenched hand at Adrian, exclaimed, in
a voice trembling with impotent rage--"Faithful to death!"