Rienzi

E >> Edward Bulwer Lytton >> Rienzi


As Adrian passed the court, a heavy waggon blocked up the way, laden
with huge marbles, dug from the unexhausted mine of the Golden House
of Nero: they were intended for an additional tower, by which Stephen
Colonna proposed yet more to strengthen the tasteless and barbarous
edifice in which the old noble maintained the dignity of outraging the
law.

The friend of Petrarch and the pupil of Rienzi sighed deeply as he
passed this vehicle of new spoliations, and as a pillar of fluted
alabaster, rolling carelessly from the waggon, fell with a loud crash
upon the pavement. At the foot of the stairs grouped some dozen of the
bandits whom the old Colonna entertained: they were playing at dice upon
an ancient tomb, the clear and deep inscription on which (so different
from the slovenly character of the later empire) bespoke it a memorial
of the most powerful age of Rome, and which, now empty even of ashes,
and upset, served for a table to these foreign savages, and was strewn,
even at that early hour, with fragments of meat and flasks of wine. They
scarcely stirred, they scarcely looked up, as the young noble passed
them; and their fierce oaths and loud ejaculations, uttered in a
northern patois, grated harsh upon his ear, as he mounted, with a slow
step, the lofty and unclean stairs. He came into a vast ante-chamber,
which was half-filled with the higher class of the patrician's
retainers: some five or six pages, chosen from the inferior noblesse,
congregated by a narrow and deep-sunk casement, were discussing the
grave matters of gallantry and intrigue; three petty chieftains of the
band below, with their corselets donned, and their swords and casques
beside them, were sitting, stolid and silent, at a table, in the middle
of the room, and might have been taken for automatons, save for
the solemn regularity with which they ever and anon lifted to their
moustachioed lips their several goblets, and then, with a complacent
grunt, re-settled to their contemplations. Striking was the contrast
which their northern phlegm presented to a crowd of Italian clients, and
petitioners, and parasites, who walked restlessly to and fro, talking
loudly to each other, with all the vehement gestures and varying
physiognomy of southern vivacity. There was a general stir and sensation
as Adrian broke upon this miscellaneous company. The bandit captains
nodded their heads mechanically; the pages bowed, and admired the
fashion of his plume and hose; the clients, and petitioners, and
parasites, crowded round him, each with a separate request for interest
with his potent kinsman. Great need had Adrian of his wonted urbanity
and address, in extricating himself from their grasp; and painfully
did he win, at last, the low and narrow door, at which stood a tall
servitor, who admitted or rejected the applicants, according to his
interest or caprice.

"Is the Baron alone?" asked Adrian.

"Why, no, my Lord: a foreign signor is with him--but to you he is of
course visible."

"Well, you may admit me. I would inquire of his health."

The servitor opened the door--through whose aperture peered many a
jealous and wistful eye--and consigned Adrian to the guidance of a page,
who, older and of greater esteem than the loiterers in the ante-room,
was the especial henchman of the Lord of the Castle. Passing another,
but empty chamber, vast and dreary, Adrian found himself in a small
cabinet, and in the presence of his kinsman.

Before a table, bearing the implements of writing, sate the old Colonna:
a robe of rich furs and velvet hung loose upon his tall and stately
frame; from a round skull-cap, of comforting warmth and crimson hue, a
few grey locks descended, and mixed with a long and reverent beard. The
countenance of the aged noble, who had long passed his eightieth year,
still retained the traces of a comeliness for which in earlier manhood
he was remarkable. His eyes, if deep-sunken, were still keen and lively,
and sparkled with all the fire of youth; his mouth curved upward in a
pleasant, though half-satiric, smile; and his appearance on the whole
was prepossessing and commanding, indicating rather the high blood, the
shrewd wit, and the gallant valour of the patrician, than his craft,
hypocrisy, and habitual but disdainful spirit of oppression.

Stephen Colonna, without being absolutely a hero, was indeed far braver
than most of the Romans, though he held fast to the Italian maxim--never
to fight an enemy while it is possible to cheat him. Two faults,
however, marred the effect of his sagacity: a supreme insolence of
disposition, and a profound belief in the lights of his experience. He
was incapable of analogy. What had never happened in his time, he was
perfectly persuaded never could happen. Thus, though generally esteemed
an able diplomatist, he had the cunning of the intriguant, and not
the providence of a statesman. If, however, pride made him arrogant
in prosperity, it supported him in misfortune. And in the earlier
vicissitudes of a life which had partly been consumed in exile, he
had developed many noble qualities of fortitude, endurance, and real
greatness of soul; which showed that his failings were rather acquired
by circumstance than derived from nature. His numerous and highborn race
were proud of their chief; and with justice; for he was the ablest and
most honoured, not only of the direct branch of the Colonna, but also,
perhaps, of all the more powerful barons.

Seated at the same table with Stephen Colonna was a man of noble
presence, of about three or four and thirty years of age, in whom Adrian
instantly recognised Walter de Montreal. This celebrated knight was
scarcely of the personal appearance which might have corresponded with
the terror his name generally excited. His face was handsome, almost to
the extreme of womanish delicacy. His fair hair waved long and freely
over a white and unwrinkled forehead: the life of a camp and the suns of
Italy had but little embrowned his clear and healthful complexion, which
retained much of the bloom of youth. His features were aquiline
and regular; his eyes, of a light hazel, were large, bright, and
penetrating; and a short, but curled beard and moustachio, trimmed
with soldier-like precision, and very little darker than the hair, gave
indeed a martial expression to his comely countenance, but rather the
expression which might have suited the hero of courts and tournaments,
than the chief of a brigand's camp. The aspect, manner, and bearing, of
the Provencal were those which captivate rather than awe,--blending,
as they did, a certain military frankness with the easy and graceful
dignity of one conscious of gentle birth, and accustomed to mix, on
equal terms, with the great and noble. His form happily contrasted and
elevated the character of a countenance which required strength and
stature to free its uncommon beauty from the charge of effeminacy,
being of great height and remarkable muscular power, without the least
approach to clumsy and unwieldy bulk: it erred, indeed, rather to the
side of leanness than flesh,--at once robust and slender. But the chief
personal distinction of this warrior, the most redoubted lance of Italy,
was an air and carriage of chivalric and heroic grace, greatly set off
at this time by his splendid dress, which was of brown velvet sown with
pearls, over which hung the surcoat worn by the Knights of the Hospital,
whereon was wrought, in white, the eight-pointed cross that made
the badge of his order. The Knight's attitude was that of earnest
conversation, bending slightly forward towards the Colonna, and resting
both his hands--which (according to the usual distinction of the old
Norman race, (Small hands and feet, however disproportioned to the rest
of the person, were at that time deemed no less a distinction of the
well-born, than they have been in a more refined age. Many readers
will remember the pain occasioned to Petrarch by his tight shoes. The
supposed beauty of this peculiarity is more derived from the feudal than
the classic time.) from whom, though born in Provence, Montreal boasted
his descent) were small and delicate, the fingers being covered with
jewels, as was the fashion of the day--upon the golden hilt of an
enormous sword, on the sheath of which was elaborately wrought the
silver lilies that made the device of the Provencal Brotherhood of
Jerusalem.

"Good morrow, fair kinsman!" said Stephen. "Seat thyself, I pray; and
know in this knightly visitor the celebrated Sieur de Montreal."

"Ah, my Lord," said Montreal, smiling, as he saluted Adrian; "and how is
my lady at home?"

"You mistake, Sir Knight," quoth Stephen; "my young kinsman is not yet
married: faith, as Pope Boniface remarked, when he lay stretched on a
sick bed, and his confessor talked to him about Abraham's bosom, 'that
is a pleasure the greater for being deferred.'"

"The Signor will pardon my mistake," returned Montreal.

"But not," said Adrian, "the neglect of Sir Walter in not ascertaining
the fact in person. My thanks to him, noble kinsman, are greater than
you weet of; and he promised to visit me, that he might receive them at
leisure."

"I assure you, Signor," answered Montreal, "that I have not forgotten
the invitation; but so weighty hitherto have been my affairs at Rome,
that I have been obliged to parley with my impatience to better our
acquaintance."

"Oh, ye knew each other before?" said Stephen. "And how?"

"My Lord, there is a damsel in the case!" replied Montreal. "Excuse my
silence."

"Ah, Adrian, Adrian! when will you learn my continence!" said Stephen,
solemnly stroking his grey beard. "What an example I set you! But a
truce to this light conversation,--let us resume our theme. You must
know, Adrian, that it is to the brave band of my guest I am indebted for
those valiant gentlemen below, who keep Rome so quiet, though my poor
habitation so noisy. He has called to proffer more assistance, if need
be; and to advise me on the affairs of Northern Italy. Continue, I pray
thee, Sir Knight; I have no disguises from my kinsman."

"Thou seest," said Montreal, fixing his penetrating eyes on Adrian,
"thou seest, doubtless, my Lord, that Italy at this moment presents to
us a remarkable spectacle. It is a contest between two opposing powers,
which shall destroy the other. The one power is that of the unruly and
turbulent people--a power which they call 'Liberty;' the other power is
that of the chiefs and princes--a power which they more appropriately
call 'Order.' Between these parties the cities of Italy are divided.
In Florence, in Genoa, in Pisa, for instance, is established a Free
State--a Republic, God wot! and a more riotous, unhappy state of
government, cannot well be imagined."

"That is perfectly true," quoth Stephen; "they banished my own first
cousin from Genoa."

"A perpetual strife, in short," continued Montreal, "between the
great families; an alternation of prosecutions, and confiscations, and
banishments: today, the Guelfs proscribe the Ghibellines--tomorrow, the
Ghibellines drive out the Guelfs. This may be liberty, but it is the
liberty of the strong against the weak. In the other cities, as Milan,
as Verona, as Bologna, the people are under the rule of one man,--who
calls himself a prince, and whom his enemies call a tyrant. Having more
force than any other citizen, he preserves a firm government; having
more constant demand on his intellect and energies than the other
citizens, he also preserves a wise one. These two orders of government
are enlisted against each other: whenever the people in the one rebel
against their prince, the people of the other--that is, the Free
States--send arms and money to their assistance."

"You hear, Adrian, how wicked those last are," quoth Stephen.

"Now it seems to me," continued Montreal, "that this contest must end
some time or other. All Italy must become republican or monarchical. It
is easy to predict which will be the result."

"Yes, Liberty must conquer in the end!" said Adrian, warmly.

"Pardon me, young Lord; my opinion is entirely the reverse. You perceive
that these republics are commercial,--are traders; they esteem wealth,
they despise valour, they cultivate all trades save that of the
armourer. Accordingly, how do they maintain themselves in war: by their
own citizens? Not a whit of it! Either they send to some foreign chief,
and promise, if he grant them his protection, the principality of the
city for five or ten years in return; or else they borrow from some
hardy adventurer, like myself, as many troops as they can afford to pay
for. Is it not so, Lord Adrian?"

Adrian nodded his reluctant assent.

"Well, then, it is the fault of the foreign chief if he do not make his
power permanent; as has been already done in States once free by the
Visconti and the Scala: or else it is the fault of the captain of the
mercenaries if he do not convert his brigands into senators, and himself
into a king. These are events so natural, that one day or other
they will occur throughout all Italy. And all Italy will then become
monarchical. Now it seems to me the interest of all the powerful
families--your own, at Rome, as that of the Visconti, at Milan--to
expedite this epoch, and to check, while you yet may with ease, that
rebellious contagion amongst the people which is now rapidly spreading,
and which ends in the fever of licence to them, but in the corruption of
death to you. In these free States, the nobles are the first to suffer:
first your privileges, then your property, are swept away. Nay, in
Florence, as ye well know, my Lords, no noble is even capable of holding
the meanest office in the State!"

"Villains!" said Colonna, "they violate the first law of nature!"

"At this moment," resumed Montreal, who, engrossed with his subject,
little heeded the interruptions he received from the holy indignation of
the Baron: "at this moment, there are many--the wisest, perhaps, in the
free States--who desire to renew the old Lombard leagues, in defence of
their common freedom everywhere, and against whosoever shall aspire to
be prince. Fortunately, the deadly jealousies between these
merchant States--the base plebeian jealousies--more of trade than of
glory--interpose at present an irresistible obstacle to this design; and
Florence, the most stirring and the most esteemed of all, is happily so
reduced by reverses of commerce as to be utterly unable to follow out
so great an undertaking. Now, then, is the time for us, my Lords; while
these obstacles are so great for our foes, now is the time for us to
form and cement a counter-league between all the princes of Italy. To
you, noble Stephen, I have come, as your rank demands,--alone, of all
the barons of Rome,--to propose to you this honourable union. Observe
what advantages it proffers to your house. The popes have abandoned Rome
for ever; there is no counterpoise to your ambition,--there need be none
to your power. You see before you the examples of Visconti and Taddeo
di Pepoli. You may found in Rome, the first city of Italy, a supreme and
uncontrolled principality, subjugate utterly your weaker rivals,--the
Savelli, the Malatesta, the Orsini,--and leave to your sons' sons an
hereditary kingdom that may aspire once more, perhaps, to the empire of
the world."

Stephen shaded his face with his hand as he answered: "But this, noble
Montreal, requires means:--money and men."

"Of the last, you can command from me enow--my small company, the best
disciplined, can (whenever I please) swell to the most numerous in
Italy: in the first, noble Baron, the rich House of Colonna cannot fail;
and even a mortgage on its vast estates may be well repaid when you have
possessed yourselves of the whole revenues of Rome. You see," continued
Montreal, turning to Adrian, in whose youth he expected a more warm ally
than in the his hoary kinsman: "you see, at a glance, how feasible is
this project, and what a mighty field it opens to your House."

"Sir Walter de Montreal," said Adrian, rising from his seat, and giving
vent to the indignation he had with difficulty suppressed, "I grieve
much that, beneath the roof of the first citizen of Rome, a stranger
should attempt thus calmly, and without interruption, to excite the
ambition of emulating the execrated celebrity of a Visconti or a Pepoli.
Speak, my Lord! (turning to Stephen)--speak, noble kinsman! and tell
this Knight of Provence, that if by a Colonna the ancient grandeur of
Rome cannot be restored, it shall not be, at least, by a Colonna that
her last wrecks of liberty shall be swept away."

"How now, Adrian!--how now, sweet kinsman!" said Stephen, thus suddenly
appealed to, "calm thyself, I pr'ythee. Noble Sir Walter, he is
young--young, and hasty--he means not to offend thee."

"Of that I am persuaded," returned Montreal, coldly, but with great
and courteous command of temper. "He speaks from the impulse of the
moment,--a praiseworthy fault in youth. It was mine at his age, and
many a time have I nearly lost my life for the rashness. Nay, Signor,
nay!--touch not your sword so meaningly, as if you fancied I intimated a
threat; far from me such presumption. I have learned sufficient caution,
believe me, in the wars, not wantonly to draw against me a blade which I
have seen wielded against such odds."

Touched, despite himself, by the courtesy of the Knight, and the
allusion to a scene in which, perhaps, his life had been preserved by
Montreal, Adrian extended his hand to the latter.

"I was to blame for my haste," said he, frankly; "but know, by my very
heat," he added more gravely, "that your project will find no friends
among the Colonna. Nay, in the presence of my noble kinsman, I dare
to tell you, that could even his high sanction lend itself to such a
scheme, the best hearts of his house would desert him; and I myself, his
kinsman, would man yonder castle against so unnatural an ambition!"

A slight and scarce perceptible cloud passed over Montreal's countenance
at these words; and he bit his lip ere he replied:

"Yet if the Orsini be less scrupulous, their first exertion of power
would be heard in the crashing house of the Colonna."

"Know you," returned Adrian, "that one of our mottoes is this haughty
address to the Romans,--'If we fall, ye fall also?' And better that
fate, than a rise upon the wrecks of our native city."

"Well, well, well!" said Montreal, reseating himself, "I see that I must
leave Rome to herself,--the League must thrive without her aid. I did
but jest, touching the Orsini, for they have not the power that would
make their efforts safe. Let us sweep, then, our past conference from
our recollection. It is the nineteenth, I think, Lord Colonna, on which
you propose to repair to Corneto, with your friends and retainers, and
on which you have invited my attendance?"

"It is on that day, Sir Knight," replied the Baron, evidently much
relieved by the turn the conversation had assumed. "The fact is, that
we have been so charged with indifference to the interests of the good
people, that I strain a point in this expedition to contradict the
assertion; and we propose, therefore, to escort and protect, against the
robbers of the road, a convoy of corn to Corneto. In truth, I may add
another reason, besides fear of the robbers, that makes me desire as
numerous a train as possible. I wish to show my enemies, and the people
generally, the solid and growing power of my house; the display of
such an armed band as I hope to levy, will be a magnificent occasion
to strike awe into the riotous and refractory. Adrian, you will collect
your servitors, I trust, on that day; we would not be without you."

"And as we ride along, fair Signor," said Montreal, inclining to Adrian,
"we will find at least one subject on which we can agree: all brave men
and true knights have one common topic,--and its name is Woman. You must
make me acquainted with the names of the fairest dames of Rome; and we
will discuss old adventures in the Parliament of Love, and hope for
new. By the way, I suppose, Lord Adrian, you, with the rest of your
countrymen, are Petrarch-stricken?"

"Do you not share our enthusiasm? slur not so your gallantry, I pray
you."

"Come, we must not again disagree; but, by my halidame, I think one
troubadour roundel worth all that Petrarch ever wrote. He has but
borrowed from our knightly poesy, to disguise it, like a carpet
coxcomb."

"Well," said Adrian, gaily, "for every line of the troubadours that
you quote, I will cite you another. I will forgive you for injustice to
Petrarch, if you are just to the troubadours."

"Just!" cried Montreal, with real enthusiasm: "I am of the land, nay
the very blood of the troubadour! But we grow too light for your noble
kinsman; and it is time for me to bid you, for the present, farewell. My
Lord Colonna, peace be with you; farewell, Sir Adrian,--brother mine in
knighthood,--remember your challenge."

And with an easy and careless grace the Knight of St. John took his
leave. The old Baron, making a dumb sign of excuse to Adrian, followed
Montreal into the adjoining room.

"Sir Knight!" said he, "Sir Knight!" as he closed the door upon Adrian,
and then drew Montreal to the recess of the casement,--"a word in your
ear. Think not I slight your offer, but these young men must be managed;
the plot is great--noble,--grateful to my heart; but it requires time
and caution. I have many of my house, scrupulous as yon hot-skull, to
win over; the way is pleasant, but must be sounded well and carefully;
you understand?"

From under his bent brows, Montreal darted one keen glance at Stephen,
and then answered:

"My friendship for you dictated my offer. The League may stand without
the Colonna,--beware a time when the Colonna cannot stand without the
League. My Lord, look well around you; there are more freemen--ay, bold
and stirring ones, too--in Rome, than you imagine. Beware Rienzi! Adieu,
we meet soon again."

Thus saying, Montreal departed, soliloquising as he passed with his
careless step through the crowded ante-room:

"I shall fail here!--these caitiff nobles have neither the courage to
be great, nor the wisdom to be honest. Let them fall!--I may find an
adventurer from the people, an adventurer like myself, worth them all."

No sooner had Stephen returned to Adrian than he flung his arms
affectionately round his ward, who was preparing his pride for some
sharp rebuke for his petulance.

"Nobly feigned,--admirable, admirable!" cried the Baron; "you have
learned the true art of a statesman at the Emperor's court. I always
thought you would--always said it. You saw the dilemma I was in,
thus taken by surprise by that barbarian's mad scheme; afraid to
refuse,--more afraid to accept. You extricated me with consummate
address: that passion,--so natural to your age,--was a famous feint;
drew off the attack; gave me time to breathe; allowed me to play with
the savage. But we must not offend him, you know: all my retainers would
desert me, or sell me to the Orsini, or cut my throat, if he but held up
his finger. Oh! it was admirably managed, Adrian--admirably!"

"Thank Heaven!" said Adrian, with some difficulty recovering the breath
which his astonishment had taken away, "you do not think of embracing
that black proposition?"

"Think of it! no, indeed!" said Stephen, throwing himself back on his
chair. "Why, do you not know my age, boy? Hard on my ninetieth year, I
should be a fool indeed to throw myself into such a whirl of turbulence
and agitation. I want to keep what I have, not risk it by grasping more.
Am I not the beloved of the pope? shall I hazard his excommunication? Am
I not the most powerful of the nobles? should I be more if I were king?
At my age, to talk to me of such stuff!--the man's an idiot. Besides,"
added the old man, sinking his voice, and looking fearfully round, "if
I were a king, my sons might poison me for the succession. They are
good lads, Adrian, very! But such a temptation!--I would not throw it in
their way; these grey hairs have experience! Tyrants don't die a natural
death; no, no! Plague on the Knight, say I; he has already cast me into
a cold sweat."

Adrian gazed on the working features of the old man, whose selfishness
thus preserved him from crime. He listened to his concluding words--full
of the dark truth of the times; and as the high and pure ambition of
Rienzi flashed upon him in contrast, he felt that he could not blame its
fervour, or wonder at its excess.

"And then, too," resumed the Baron, speaking more deliberately as he
recovered his self-possession, "this man, by way of a warning, shows me,
at a glance, his whole ignorance of the state. What think you? he has
mingled with the mob, and taken their rank breath for power; yes, he
thinks words are soldiers, and bade me--me, Stephen Colonna--beware--of
whom, think you? No, you will never guess!--of that speech-maker,
Rienzi! my own old jesting guest! Ha! ha! ha!--the ignorance of these
barbarians! Ha! ha! ha! and the old man laughed till the tears ran down
his cheeks.