Chapter 1.X. A Rough Spirit Raised, Which May Hereafter Rend the Wizard.
While thus animated was the scene around the Capitol, within one of the
apartments of the palace sat the agent and prime cause of that excitement.
In the company of his quiet scribes, Rienzi appeared absorbed in the
patient details of his avocation. While the murmur and the hum, the shout
and the tramp, of multitudes, rolled to his chamber, he seemed not to heed
them, nor to rouse himself a moment from his task. With the unbroken
regularity of an automaton, he continued to enter in his large book, and
with the clear and beautiful characters of the period, those damning
figures which taught him, better than declamations, the frauds practised on
the people, and armed him with that weapon of plain fact which it is so
difficult for abuse to parry.
"Page 2, Vol. B.," said he, in the tranquil voice of business, to the
clerks; "see there, the profits of the salt duty; department No.3 - very
well. Page 9, Vol. D. - what is the account rendered by Vescobaldi, the
collector? What! twelve thousand florins? - no more? - unconscionable
rascal!" (Here was a loud shout without of 'Pandulfo! - long live
Pandulfo!') "Pastrucci, my friend, your head wanders; you are listening to
the noise without - please to amuse yourself with the calculation I
entrusted to you. Santi, what is the entry given in by Antonio Tralli?"
A slight tap was heard at the door, and Pandulfo entered.
The clerks continued their labour, though they looked up hastily at the
pale and respectable visitor, whose name, to their great astonishment, had
thus become a popular cry.
"Ah, my friend," said Rienzi, calmly enough in voice, but his hands
trembled with ill-suppressed emotion, "you would speak to me alone, eh?
well, well - this way." Thus saying, he led the citizen into a small
cabinet in the rear of the room of office, carefully shut the door, and
then giving himself up to the natural impatience of his character, seized
Pandulfo by the hand: "Speak!" cried he: "do they take the
interpretation? - have you made it plain and palpable enough? - has it sunk
deep into their souls?"
"Oh, by St. Peter! yes!" returned the citizen, whose spirits were elevated
by his recent discovery that he, too, was an orator - a luxurious pleasure
for a timid man. "They swallowed every word of the interpretation; they
are moved to the marrow - you might lead them this very hour to battle, and
find them heroes. As for the sturdy smith - "
"What! Cecco del Vecchio?" interrupted Rienzi; "ah, his heart is wrought
in bronze - what did he?"
"Why, he caught me by the hem of my robe as I descended my rostrum, (oh!
would you could have seen me! - per fede I had caught your mantle! - I was
a second you!) and said, weeping like a child, 'Ah, Signor, I am but a poor
man, and of little worth; but if every drop of blood in this body were a
life, I would give it for my country!'"
"Brave soul," said Rienzi, with emotion; "would Rome had but fifty such!
No man hath done us more good among his own class than Cecco del Vecchio."
"They feel a protection in his very size," said Pandulfo. "It is something
to hear such big words from such a big fellow."
"Were there any voices lifted in disapprobation of the picture and its
sentiment?"
"None."
"The time is nearly ripe, then - a few suns more, and the fruit must be
gathered. The Aventine, - the Lateran, - and then the solitary trumpet!"
Thus saying, Rienzi, with folded arms and downcast eyes, seemed sunk into a
reverie.
"By the way," said Pandulfo, "I had almost forgot to tell thee, that the
crowd would have poured themselves hither, so impatient were they to see
thee; but I bade Cecco del Vecchio mount the rostrum, and tell them, in his
blunt way, that it would be unseemly at the present time, when thou wert
engaged in the Capitol on civil and holy affairs, to rush in so great a
body into thy presence. Did I not right?"
"Most right, my Pandulfo."
"But Cecco del Vecchio says he must come and kiss thy hand: and thou mayst
expect him here the moment he can escape unobserved from the crowd."
"He is welcome!" said Rienzi, half mechanically, for he was still absorbed
in thought.
"And, lo! here he is," - as one of the scribes announced the visit of the
smith.
"Let him be admitted!" said Rienzi, seating himself composedly.
When the huge smith found himself in the presence of Rienzi, it amused
Pandulfo to perceive the wonderful influences of mind over matter. That
fierce and sturdy giant, who, in all popular commotions, towered above his
tribe, with thews of stone, and nerves of iron, the rallying point and
bulwark of the rest, - stood now colouring and trembling before the
intellect, which (so had the eloquent spirit of Rienzi waked and fanned the
spark which, till then, had lain dormant in that rough bosom) might almost
be said to have created his own. And he, indeed, who first arouses in the
bondsman the sense and soul of freedom, comes as near as is permitted to
man, nearer than the philosopher, nearer even than the poet, to the great
creative attribute of God! - But, if the breast be uneducated, the gift may
curse the giver; and he who passes at once from the slave to the freeman
may pass as rapidly from the freeman to the ruffian.
"Approach, my friend," said Rienzi, after a moment's pause; "I know all
that thou hast done, and wouldst do, for Rome! Thou art worthy of her best
days, and thou art born to share in their return."
The smith dropped at the feet of Rienzi, who held out his hand to raise
him, which Cecco del Vecchio seized, and reverentially kissed.
"This kiss does not betray," said Rienzi, smiling; "but rise, my friend, -
this posture is only due to God and his saints!"
"He is a saint who helps us at need!" said the smith, bluntly, "and that no
man has done as thou hast. But when," he added, sinking his voice, and
fixing his eyes hard on Rienzi, as one may do who waits a signal to strike
a blow, "when - when shall we make the great effort?"
Thou hast spoken to all the brave men in thy neighbourhood, - are they well
prepared?"
"To live or die, as Rienzi bids them!"
"I must have the list - the number - names - houses and callings, this
night."
"Thou shalt."
"Each man must sign his name or mark with his own hand."
"It shall be done."
"Then, harkye! attend Pandulfo di Guido at his house this evening, at
sunset. He shall instruct thee where to meet this night some brave hearts;
- thou art worthy to be ranked amongst them. Thou wilt not fail!"
"By the holy Stairs! I will count every minute till then," said the smith,
his swarthy face lighted with pride at the confidence shown him.
"Meanwhile, watch all your neighbours; let no man flag or grow faint-
hearted, - none of thy friends must be branded as a traitor!"
"I will cut his throat, were he my own mother's son, if I find one pledged
man flinch!" said the fierce smith.
"Ha, ha!" rejoined Rienzi, with that strange laugh which belonged to him;
"a miracle! a miracle! The Picture speaks now!"
It was already nearly dusk when Rienzi left the Capitol. The broad space
before its walls was empty and deserted, and wrapping his mantle closely
round him, he walked musingly on.
"I have almost climbed the height," thought he, "and now the precipice
yawns before me. If I fail, what a fall! The last hope of my country
falls with me. Never will a noble rise against the nobles. Never will
another plebeian have the opportunities and the power that I have! Rome is
bound up with me - with a single life. The liberties of all time are fixed
to a reed that a wind may uproot. But oh, Providence! hast thou not
reserved and marked me for great deeds? How, step by step, have I been led
on to this solemn enterprise! How has each hour prepared its successor!
And yet what danger! If the inconstant people, made cowardly by long
thraldom, do but waver in the crisis, I am swept away!"
As he spoke, he raised his eyes, and lo, before him, the first star of
twilight shone calmly down upon the crumbling remnants of the Tarpeian
Rock. It was no favouring omen, and Rienzi's heart beat quicker as that
dark and ruined mass frowned thus suddenly on his gaze.
"Dread monument," thought he, "of what dark catastrophes, to what unknown
schemes, hast thou been the witness! To how many enterprises, on which
history is dumb, hast thou set the seal! How know we whether they were
criminal or just? How know we whether he, thus doomed as a traitor, would
not, if successful, have been immortalized as a deliverer? If I fall, who
will write my chronicle? One of the people? alas! blinded and ignorant,
they furnish forth no minds that can appeal to posterity. One of the
patricians? in what colours then shall I be painted! No tomb will rise for
me amidst the wrecks; no hand scatter flowers upon my grave!"
Thus meditating on the verge of that mighty enterprise to which he had
devoted himself, Rienzi pursued his way. He gained the Tiber, and paused
for a few moments beside its legendary stream, over which the purple and
starlit heaven shone deeply down. He crossed the bridge which leads to the
quarter of the Trastevere, whose haughty inhabitants yet boast themselves
the sole true descendants of the ancient Romans. Here he step grew quicker
and more light; brighter, if less solemn, thoughts crowded upon his breast;
and ambition, lulled for a moment, left his strained and over-laboured mind
to the reign of a softer passion.
