Chapter 2.I. The Knight of Provence, and his Proposal.
It was nearly noon as Adrian entered the gates of the palace of Stephen
Colonna. The palaces of the nobles were not then as we see them now,
receptacles for the immortal canvas of Italian, and the imperishable
sculpture of Grecian Art; but still to this day are retained the massive
walls, and barred windows, and spacious courts, which at that time
protected their rude retainers. High above the gates rose a lofty and
solid tower, whose height commanded a wide view of the mutilated remains of
Rome: the gate itself was adorned and strengthened on either side by
columns of granite, whose Doric capitals betrayed the sacrilege that had
torn them from one of the many temples that had formerly crowded the sacred
Forum. From the same spoils came, too, the vast fragments of travertine
which made the walls of the outer court. So common at that day were these
barbarous appropriations of the most precious monuments of art, that the
columns and domes of earlier Rome were regarded by all classes but as
quarries, from which every man was free to gather the materials, whether
for his castle or his cottage, - a wantonness of outrage far greater than
the Goths', to whom a later age would fain have attributed all the
disgrace, and which, more perhaps than even heavier offences, excited the
classical indignation of Petrarch, and made him sympathise with Rienzi in
his hopes of Rome. Still may you see the churches of that or even earlier
dates, of the most shapeless architecture, built on the sites, and from the
marbles, consecrating (rather than consecrated by) the names of Venus, of
Jupiter, of Minerva. The palace of the Prince of the Orsini, duke of
Gravina, is yet reared above the graceful arches (still visible) of the
theatre of Marcellus; then a fortress of the Savelli.
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.
"Yet many of the nobles fear that same Rienzi," said Adrian, gravely.
"Ah! let them, let them! - they have not our experience - our knowledge of
the world, Adrian. Tut, man, - when did declamation ever overthrow
castles, and conquer soldiery? I like Rienzi to harangue the mob about old
Rome, and such stuff; it gives them something to think of and prate about,
and so all their fierceness evaporates in words; they might burn a house if
they did not hear a speech. But, now I am on that score, I must own the
pedant has grown impudent in his new office; here, here, - I received this
paper ere I rose today. I hear a similar insolence has been shown to all
the nobles. Read it, will you," and the Colonna put a scroll into his
kinsman's hand.
"I have received the like," said Adrian, glancing at it. "It is a request
of Rienzi's to attend at the Church of St. John of Lateran, to hear
explained the inscription on a Table just discovered. It bears, he saith,
the most intimate connexion with the welfare and state of Rome."
"Very entertaining, I dare to say, to professors and bookmen. Pardon me,
kinsman; I forgot your taste for these things; and my son, Gianni, too,
shares your fantasy. Well, well! it is innocent enough! Go - the man
talks well."
"Will you not attend, too?"
"I - my dear boy - I!" said the old Colonna, opening his eyes in such
astonishment that Adrian could not help laughing at the simplicity of his
own question.
