Chapter 1.V. The Description of a Conspirator, and the Dawn of the
Conspiracy.
Alone, by a table covered with various papers, sat a man in the prime of
life. The chamber was low and long; many antique and disfigured bas-
reliefs and torsos were placed around the wall, interspersed, here and
there, with the short sword and close casque, time-worn relics of the
prowess of ancient Rome. Right above the table at which he sate, the
moonlight streamed through a high and narrow casement, deep sunk in the
massy wall. In a niche to the right of this window, guarded by a sliding
door, which was now partially drawn aside - but which, by its solid
substance, and the sheet of iron with which it was plated, testified how
valuable, in the eyes of the owner, was the treasure it protected - were
ranged some thirty or forty volumes, then deemed no inconsiderable library;
and being, for the most part, the laborious copies in manuscript by the
hand of the owner, from immortal originals.
Leaning his cheek on his hand, his brow somewhat knit, his lip slightly
compressed, that personage, indulged in meditations far other than the
indolent dreams of scholars. As the high and still moonlight shone upon
his countenance, it gave an additional and solemn dignity to features which
were naturally of a grave and majestic cast. Thick and auburn hair, the
colour of which, not common to the Romans, was ascribed to his descent from
the Teuton emperor, clustered in large curls above a high and expansive
forehead; and even the present thoughtful compression of the brow could not
mar the aspect of latent power, which it derived from that great breadth
between the eyes, in which the Grecian sculptors of old so admirably
conveyed the expression of authority, and the silent energy of command.
But his features were not cast in the Grecian, still less in the Teuton
mould. The iron jaw, the aquiline nose, the somewhat sunken cheek,
strikingly recalled the character of the hard Roman race, and might not
inaptly have suggested to a painter a model for the younger Brutus.
The marked outline of the face, and the short, firm upper lip, were not
concealed by the beard and mustachios usually then worn; and, in the faded
portrait of the person now described, still extant at Rome, may be traced a
certain resemblance to the popular pictures of Napoleon; not indeed in the
features, which are more stern and prominent in the portrait of the Roman,
but in that peculiar expression of concentrated and tranquil power which so
nearly realizes the ideal of intellectual majesty. Though still young, the
personal advantages most peculiar to youth, - the bloom and glow, the
rounded cheek in which care has not yet ploughed its lines, the full
unsunken eye, and the slender delicacy of frame, - these were not the
characteristics of that solitary student. And, though considered by his
contemporaries as eminently handsome, the judgment was probably formed less
from the more vulgar claims to such distinction, than from the height of
the stature, an advantage at that time more esteemed than at present, and
that nobler order of beauty which cultivated genius and commanding
character usually stamp upon even homely features; - the more rare in an
age so rugged.
The character of Rienzi (for the youth presented to the reader in the first
chapter of this history is now again before him in maturer years) had
acquired greater hardness and energy with each stepping-stone to power.
There was a circumstance attendant on his birth which had, probably,
exercised great and early influence on his ambition. Though his parents
were in humble circumstances, and of lowly calling, his father was the
natural son of the Emperor, Henry VII.; (De Sade supposes that the mother
of Rienzi was the daughter of an illegitimate son of Henry VII., supporting
his opinion from a MS. in the Vatican. But, according to the
contemporaneous biographer, Rienzi, in addressing Charles, king of Bohemia
claims the relationship from his father "Di vostro legnaggio sono - figlio
di bastardo d'Enrico imperatore," &c. A more recent writer, il Padre
Gabrini, cites an inscription in support of this descent: "Nicolaus
Tribunus...Laurentii Teutonici Filius," &c.) and it was the pride of the
parents that probably gave to Rienzi the unwonted advantages of education.
This pride transmitted to himself, - his descent from royalty dinned into
his ear, infused into his thoughts, from his cradle, - made him, even in
his earliest youth, deem himself the equal of the Roman signors, and half
unconsciously aspire to be their superior. But, as the literature of Rome
was unfolded to his eager eye and ambitious heart, he became imbued with
that pride of country which is nobler than the pride of birth; and, save
when stung by allusions to his origin, he unaffectedly valued himself more
on being a Roman plebeian than the descendant of a Teuton king. His
brother's death, and the vicissitudes he himself had already undergone,
deepened the earnest and solemn qualities of his character; and, at length,
all the faculties of a very uncommon intellect were concentrated into one
object - which borrowed from a mind strongly and mystically religious, as
well as patriotic, a sacred aspect, and grew at once a duty and a passion.
"Yes," said Rienzi, breaking suddenly from his revery, "yes, the day is at
hand when Rome shall rise again from her ashes; Justice shall dethrone
Oppression; men shall walk safe in their ancient Forum. We will rouse from
his forgotten tomb the indomitable soul of Cato! There shall be a people
once more in Rome! And I - I shall be the instrument of that triumph - the
restorer of my race! mine shall be the first voice to swell the battle-cry
of freedom - mine the first hand to rear her banner - yes, from the height
of my own soul as from a mountain, I see already rising the liberties and
the grandeur of the New Rome; and on the corner-stone of the mighty fabric
posterity shall read my name."
Uttering these lofty boasts, the whole person of the speaker seemed
instinct with his ambition. He strode the gloomy chamber with light and
rapid steps, as if on air; his breast heaved, his eyes glowed. He felt
that love itself can scarcely bestow a rapture equal to that which is felt,
in his first virgin enthusiasm, by a patriot who knows himself sincere!
There was a slight knock at the door, and a servitor, in the rich liveries
worn by the pope's officials, (Not the present hideous habiliments, which
are said to have been the invention of Michael Angelo.) presented himself.
"Signor," said he, "my Lord, the Bishop of Orvietto, is without."
"Ha! that is fortunate. Lights there! - My Lord, this is an honour which I
can estimate better than express."
"Tut, tut! my good friend," said the Bishop, entering, and seating himself
familiarly, "no ceremonies between the servants of the Church; and never, I
ween well, had she greater need of true friends than now. These unholy
tumults, these licentious contentions, in the very shrines and city of St.
Peter, are sufficient to scandalize all Christendom."
"And so will it be," said Rienzi, "until his Holiness himself shall be
graciously persuaded to fix his residence in the seat of his predecessors,
and curb with a strong arm the excesses of the nobles."
"Alas, man!" said the Bishop, "thou knowest that these words are but as
wind; for were the Pope to fulfil thy wishes, and remove from Avignon to
Rome, by the blood of St. Peter! he would not curb the nobles, but the
nobles would curb him. Thou knowest well that until his blessed
predecessor, of pious memory, conceived the wise design of escaping to
Avignon, the Father of the Christian world was but like many other fathers
in their old age, controlled and guarded by his rebellious children.
Recollectest thou not how the noble Boniface himself, a man of great heart,
and nerves of iron, was kept in thraldom by the ancestors of the Orsini -
his entrances and exits made but at their will - so that, like a caged
eagle, he beat himself against his bars and died? Verily, thou talkest of
the memories of Rome - these are not the memories that are very attractive
to popes."
"Well," said Rienzi, laughing gently, and drawing his seat nearer to the
Bishop's, "my Lord has certainly the best of the argument at present; and I
must own, that strong, licentious, and unhallowed as the order of nobility
was then, it is yet more so now."
"Even I," rejoined Raimond, colouring as he spoke, "though Vicar of the
Pope, and representative of his spiritual authority, was, but three days
ago, subjected to a coarse affront from that very Stephen Colonna, who has
ever received such favour and tenderness from the Holy See. His servitors
jostled mine in the open streets, and I myself, - I, the delegate of the
sire of kings - was forced to draw aside to the wall, and wait until the
hoary insolent swept by. Nor were blaspheming words wanting to complete
the insult. "'Pardon, Lord Bishop,' said he, as he passed me; 'but this
world, thou knowest, must necessarily take precedence of the other.'"
"Dared he so high?" said Rienzi, shading his face with his hand, as a very
peculiar smile - scarcely itself joyous, though it made others gay, and
which completely changed the character of his face, naturally grave even to
sternness - played round his lips. "Then it is time for thee, holy father,
as for us, to - "
"To what?" interrupted the Bishop, quickly. "Can we effect aught! Dismiss
thy enthusiastic dreamings - descend to the real earth - look soberly round
us. Against men so powerful, what can we do?"
"My Lord," answered Rienzi, gravely, "it is the misfortune of signors of
your rank never to know the people, or the accurate signs of the time. As
those who pass over the heights of mountains see the clouds sweep below,
veiling the plains and valleys from their gaze, while they, only a little
above the level, survey the movements and the homes of men; even so from
your lofty eminence ye behold but the indistinct and sullen vapours - while
from my humbler station I see the preparations of the shepherds, to shelter
themselves and herds from the storm which those clouds betoken. Despair
not, my Lord; endurance goes but to a certain limit - to that limit it is
already stretched; Rome waits but the occasion (it will soon come, but not
suddenly) to rise simultaneously against her oppressors."
The great secret of eloquence is to be in earnest - the great secret of
Rienzi's eloquence was in the mightiness of his enthusiasm. He never spoke
as one who doubted of success. Perhaps, like most men who undertake high
and great actions, he himself was never thoroughly aware of the obstacles
in his way. He saw the end, bright and clear, and overleaped, in the
vision of his soul, the crosses and the length of the path; thus the deep
convictions of his own mind stamped themselves irresistibly upon others.
He seemed less to promise than to prophesy.
The Bishop of Orvietto, not over wise, yet a man of cool temperament and
much worldly experience, was forcibly impressed by the energy of his
companion; perhaps, indeed, the more so, inasmuch as his own pride and his
own passions were also enlisted against the arrogance and licence of the
nobles. He paused ere he replied to Rienzi.
"But is it," he asked, at length, "only the plebeians who will rise? Thou
knowest how they are caitiff and uncertain."
"My Lord," answered Rienzi, "judge, by one fact, how strongly I am
surrounded by friends of no common class: thou knowest how loudly I speak
against the nobles - I cite them by their name - I beard the Savelli, the
Orsini, the Colonna, in their very hearing. Thinkest thou that they
forgive me? thinkest thou that, were only the plebeians my safeguard and my
favourers, they would not seize me by open force, - that I had not long ere
this found a gag in their dungeons, or been swallowed up in the eternal
dumbness of the grave? Observe," continued he, as, reading the Vicar's
countenance, he perceived the impression he had made - "observe, that,
throughout the whole world, a great revolution has begun. The barbaric
darkness of centuries has been broken; the Knowledge which made men as
demigods in the past time has been called from her urn; a Power, subtler
than brute force, and mightier than armed men, is at work; we have begun
once more to do homage to the Royalty of Mind. Yes, that same Power which,
a few years ago, crowned Petrarch in the Capitol, when it witnessed, after
the silence of twelve centuries, the glories of a Triumph, - which heaped
upon a man of obscure birth, and unknown in arms, the same honours given of
old to emperors and the vanquishers of kings, - which united in one act of
homage even the rival houses of Colonna and Orsini, - which made the
haughtiest patricians emulous to bear the train, to touch but the purple
robe, of the son of the Florentine plebeian, - which still draws the eyes
of Europe to the lowly cottage of Vaucluse, - which gives to the humble
student the all-acknowledged licence to admonish tyrants, and approach,
with haughty prayers, even the Father of the Church; - yes, that same
Power, which, working silently throughout Italy, murmurs under the solid
base of the Venetian oligarchy; (It was about eight years afterwards that
the long-smothered hate of the Venetian people to that wisest and most
vigilant of all oligarchies, the Sparta of Italy, broke out in the
conspiracy under Marino Faliero.) which, beyond the Alps, has wakened into
visible and sudden life in Spain, in Germany, in Flanders; and which, even
in that barbarous Isle, conquered by the Norman sword, ruled by the bravest
of living kings, (Edward III., in whose reign opinions far more popular
than those of the following century began to work. The Civil Wars threw
back the action into the blood. It was indeed an age throughout the world
which put forth abundant blossoms, but crude and unripened fruit; - a
singular leap, followed by as singular a pause.) has roused a spirit Norman
cannot break - kings to rule over must rule by - yes, that same Power is
everywhere abroad: it speaks, it conquers in the voice even of him who is
before you; it unites in his cause all on whom but one glimmering of light
has burst, all in whom one generous desire can be kindled! Know, Lord
Vicar, that there is not a man in Rome, save our oppressors themselves -
not a man who has learned one syllable of our ancient tongue - whose heart
and sword are not with me. The peaceful cultivators of letters - the proud
nobles of the second order - the rising race, wiser than their slothful
sires; above all, my Lord, the humbler ministers of religion, priests and
monks, whom luxury hath not blinded, pomp hath not deafened, to the
monstrous outrage to Christianity daily and nightly perpetrated in the
Christian Capital; these, - all these, - are linked with the merchant and
the artisan in one indissoluble bond, waiting but the signal to fall or to
conquer, to live freemen, or to die martyrs, with Rienzi and their
country!"
"Sayest thou so in truth?" said the Bishop, startled, and half rising.
"Prove but thy words, and thou shalt not find the ministers of God are less
eager than their lay brethren for the happiness of men."
"What I say," rejoined Rienzi, in a cooler tone, "that can I show; but I
may only prove it to those who will be with us."
"Fear me not," answered Raimond: "I know well the secret mind of his
Holiness, whose delegate and representative I am; and could he see but the
legitimate and natural limit set to the power of the patricians, who, in
their arrogance, have set at nought the authority of the Church itself, be
sure that he would smile on the hand that drew the line. Nay, so certain
of this am I, that if ye succeed, I, his responsible but unworthy vicar,
will myself sanction the success. But beware of crude attempts; the Church
must not be weakened by linking itself to failure."
"Right, my Lord," answered Rienzi; "and in this, the policy of religion is
that of freedom. Judge of my prudence by my long delay. He who can see
all around him impatient - himself not less so - and yet suppress the
signal, and bide the hour, is not likely to lose his cause by rashness."
"More, then, of this anon," said the Bishop, resettling himself in his
seat. "As thy plans mature, fear not to communicate with me. Believe that
Rome has no firmer friend then he who, ordained to preserve order, finds
himself impotent against aggression. Meanwhile, to the object of my
present visit, which links itself, in some measure, perhaps, with the
topics on which we have conversed...Thou knowest that when his Holiness
intrusted thee with thy present office, he bade thee also announce his
beneficent intention of granting a general Jubilee at Rome for the year
1350 - a most admirable design for two reasons, sufficiently apparent to
thyself: first, that every Christian soul that may undertake the
pilgrimage to Rome on that occasion, may thus obtain a general remission of
sins; and secondly, because, to speak carnally, the concourse of pilgrims
so assembled, usually, by the donations and offerings their piety suggests,
very materially add to the revenues of the Holy See: at this time, by the
way, in no very flourishing condition. This thou knowest, dear Rienzi."
Rienzi bowed his head in assent, and the prelate continued -
"Well, it is with the greatest grief that his Holiness perceives that his
pious intentions are likely to be frustrated: for so fierce and numerous
are now the brigands in the public approaches to Rome, that, verily, the
boldest pilgrim may tremble a little to undertake the journey; and those
who do so venture will, probably, be composed of the poorest of the
Christian community, - men who, bringing with them neither gold, nor
silver, nor precious offerings, will have little to fear from the rapacity
of the brigands. Hence arise two consequences: on the one hand, the rich
- whom, Heaven knows, and the Gospel has, indeed, expressly declared, have
the most need of a remission of sins - will be deprived of this glorious
occasion for absolution; and, on the other hand, the coffers of the Church
will be impiously defrauded of that wealth which it would otherwise
doubtless obtain from the zeal of her children."
"Nothing can be more logically manifest, my Lord," said Rienzi.
The Vicar continued - "Now, in letters received five days since from his
Holiness, he bade me expose these fearful consequences to Christianity to
the various patricians who are legitimately fiefs of the Church, and
command their resolute combination against the marauders of the road. With
these have I conferred, and vainly."
"For by the aid, and from the troops, of those very brigands, these
patricians have fortified their palaces against each other," added Rienzi.
"Exactly for that reason," rejoined the Bishop. "Nay, Stephen Colonna
himself had the audacity to confess it. Utterly unmoved by the loss to so
many precious souls, and, I may add, to the papal treasury, which ought to
be little less dear to right-discerning men, they refuse to advance a step
against the bandits. Now, then, hearken the second mandate of his
Holiness: - 'Failing the nobles,' saith he, in his prophetic sagacity,
'confer with Cola di Rienzi. He is a bold man, and a pious, and, thou
tellest me, of great weight with the people; and say to him, that if his
wit can devise the method for extirpating these sons of Belial, and
rendering a safe passage along the public ways, largely, indeed, will he
merit at our hands, - lasting will be the gratitude we shall owe to him;
and whatever succour thou, and the servants of our See, can render to him,
let it not be stinted.'"
"Said his Holiness thus!" exclaimed Rienzi. "I ask no more - the gratitude
is mine that he hath thought thus of his servant, and intrusted me with
this charge; at once I accept it - at once I pledge myself to success. Let
us, my Lord, let us, then, clearly understand the limits ordained to my
discretion. To curb the brigands without the walls, I must have authority
over those within. If I undertake, at peril of my life, to clear all the
avenues to Rome of the robbers who now infest it, shall I have full licence
for conduct bold, peremptory, and severe?"
"Such conduct the very nature of the charge demands," replied Raimond.
"Ay, - even though it be exercised against the arch offenders - against the
supporters of the brigands - against the haughtiest of the nobles
themselves?"
The Bishop paused, and looked hard in the face of the speaker. "I repeat,"
said he, at length, sinking his voice, and with a significant tone, "in
these bold attempts, success is the sole sanction. Succeed, and we will
excuse thee all - even to the - "
"Death of a Colonna or an Orsini, should justice demand it; and provided it
be according to the law, and only incurred by the violation of the law!"
added Rienzi, firmly.
The Bishop did not reply in words, but a slight motion of his head was
sufficient answer to Rienzi.
"My Lord," said he, "from this time, then, all is well; I date the
revolution - the restoration of order, of the state - from this hour, this
very conference. Till now, knowing that justice must never wink upon great
offenders, I had hesitated, through fear lest thou and his Holiness might
deem it severity, and blame him who replaces the law, because he smites the
violaters of law. Now I judge ye more rightly. Your hand, my Lord."
The Bishop extended his hand; Rienzi grasped it firmly, and then raised it
respectfully to his lips. Both felt that the compact was sealed.
This conference, so long in recital, was short in the reality; but its
object was already finished, and the Bishop rose to depart. The outer
portal of the house was opened, the numerous servitors of the Bishop held
on high their torches, and he had just termed from Rienzi, who had attended
him to the gate, when a female passed hastily through the Prelate's train,
and starting as she beheld Rienzi, flung herself at his feet.
"Oh, hasten, Sir! hasten, for the love of God, hasten! or the young Signora
is lost for ever!"
"The Signora! - Heaven and earth, Benedetta, of whom do you speak? - of my
sister - of Irene? is she not within?"
"Oh, Sir - the Orsini - the Orsini!"
"What of them? - speak, woman!"
Here, breathlessly, and with many a break, Benedetta recounted to Rienzi,
in whom the reader has already recognised the brother of Irene, so far of
the adventure with Martino di Porto as she had witnessed: of the
termination and result of the contest she knew nought.
Rienzi listened in silence; but the deadly paleness of his countenance, and
the writhing of the nether lip, testified the emotions to which he gave no
audible vent.
"You hear, my Lord Bishop - you hear," said he, when Benedetta had
concluded; and turning to the Bishop, whose departure the narrative had
delayed - "you hear to what outrage the citizens of Rome are subjected. My
hat and sword! instantly! My Lord, forgive my abruptness."
"Whither art thou bent, then?" asked Raimond.
"Whither - whither! - Ay, I forgot, my Lord, you have no sister. Perhaps
too, you had no brother? - No, no; one victim at least I will live to save.
Whither, you ask me? - to the palace of Martino di Porto."
"To an Orsini alone, and for justice?"
"Alone, and for justice! - No!" shouted Rienzi, in a loud voice, as he
seized his sword, now brought to him by one of his servants, and rushed
from the house; "but one man is sufficient for revenge!"
The Bishop paused for a moment's deliberation. "He must not be lost,"
muttered he, "as he well may be, if exposed thus solitary to the wolf's
rage. What, ho!" he cried aloud; "advance the torches! - quick, quick! We
ourself - we, the Vicar of the Pope - will see to this. Calm yourselves,
good people; your young Signora shall be restored. On! to the palace of
Martino di Porto!"
