Chapter 7.II. The Character of a Warrior Priest - an Interview - the
Intrigue and Counter-intrigue of Courts.
Giles, (or Egidio, (Egidio is the proper Italian equivalent to the French
name Gilles, - but the Cardinal is generally called, by the writers of that
day, Gilio d'Albornoz.)) Cardinal d'Albornoz, was one of the most
remarkable men of that remarkable time, so prodigal of genius. Boasting
his descent from the royal houses of Aragon and Leon, he had early entered
the church, and yet almost a youth, attained the archbishopric of Toledo.
But no peaceful career, however brilliant, sufficed to his ambition. He
could not content himself with the honours of the church, unless they were
the honours of a church militant. In the war against the Moors, no
Spaniard had more highly distinguished himself; and Alphonso XI. king of
Castile, had insisted on receiving from the hand of the martial priest the
badge of knighthood. After the death of Alphonso, who was strongly
attached to him, Albornoz repaired to Avignon, and obtained from Clement
VI. the cardinal's hat. With Innocent he continued in high favour, and
now, constantly in the councils of the Pope, rumours of warlike
preparation, under the banners of Albornoz, for the recovery of the papal
dominions from the various tyrants that usurped them, were already
circulated through the court. (It is a characteristic anecdote of this
bold Churchman, that Urban V. one day demanded an account of the sums spent
in his military expedition against the Italian tyrants. The Cardinal
presented to the Pope a wagon, filled with the keys of the cities and
fortresses he had taken. "This is my account," said he; "you perceive how
I have invested your money." The Pope embraced him, and gave him no
further trouble about his accounts.) Bold, sagacious, enterprising, and
cold-hearted, - with the valour of the knight, and the cunning of the
priest, - such was the character of Giles, Cardinal d'Albornoz.
Leaving his attendant gentlemen in the antechamber, Albornoz was ushered
into the apartment of the Signora Cesarini. In person, the Cardinal was
about the middle height; the dark complexion of Spain had faded by thought,
and the wear of ambitious schemes, into a sallow but hardy hue; his brow
was deeply furrowed, and though not yet passed the prime of life, Albornoz
might seem to have entered age, but for the firmness of his step, the
slender elasticity of his frame, and an eye which had acquired calmness and
depth from thought, without losing any of the brilliancy of youth.
"Beautiful Signora," said the Cardinal, bending over the hand of the
Cesarini with a grace which betokened more of the prince than of the
priest; "the commands of his Holiness have detained me, I fear, beyond the
hour in which you vouchsafed to appoint my homage, but my heart has been
with you since we parted."
"The Cardinal d'Albornoz," replied the Signora, gently withdrawing her
hand, and seating herself, "has so many demands on his time, from the
duties of his rank and renown, that methinks to divert his attention for a
few moments to less noble thoughts is a kind of treason to his fame."
"Ah, Lady," replied the Cardinal, "never was my ambition so nobly directed
as it is now. And it were a prouder lot to be at thy feet than on the
throne of St. Peter."
A momentary blush passed over the cheek of the Signora, yet it seemed the
blush of indignation as much as of vanity; it was succeeded by an extreme
paleness. She paused before she replied; and then fixing her large and
haughty eyes on the enamoured Spaniard, she said, in a low voice,
"My Lord Cardinal, I do not affect to misunderstand your words; neither do
I place them to the account of a general gallantry. I am vain enough to
believe you imagine you speak truly when you say you love me."
"Imagine!" echoed the Spaniard.
"Listen to me," continued the Signora. "She whom the Cardinal Albornoz
honours with his love has a right to demand of him its proofs. In the
papal court, whose power like his? - I require you to exercise it for me."
"Speak, dearest Lady; have your estates been seized by the barbarians of
these lawless times? Hath any dared to injure you? Lands and titles, are
these thy wish? - my power is thy slave."
"Cardinal, no! there is one thing dearer to an Italian and a woman than
wealth or station - it is revenge!"
The Cardinal drew back from the flashing eye that was bent upon him, but
the spirit of her speech touched a congenial chord.
"There," said he, after a little hesitation, "there spake high descent.
Revenge is the luxury of the well-born. Let serfs and churls forgive an
injury. Proceed, Lady."
"Hast thou heard the last news from Rome?" asked the Signora.
"Surely," replied the Cardinal, in some surprise, "we were poor statesmen
to be ignorant of the condition of the capital of the papal dominions; and
my heart mourns for that unfortunate city. But wherefore wouldst thou
question me of Rome? - thou art - "
"Roman! Know, my Lord, that I have a purpose in calling myself of Naples.
To your discretion I intrust my secret - I am of Rome! Tell me of her
state."
"Fairest one," returned the Cardinal, "I should have known that that brow
and presence were not of the light Campania. My reason should have told me
that they bore the stamp of the Empress of the World. The state of Rome,"
continued Albornoz, in a graver tone, "is briefly told. Thou knowest that
after the fall of the able but insolent Rienzi, Pepin, count of Minorbino,
(a creature of Montreal's) who had assisted in expelling him, would have
betrayed Rome to Montreal, - but he was neither strong enough nor wise
enough, and the Barons chased him as he had chased the Tribune. Some time
afterwards a new demagogue, John Cerroni, was installed in the Capitol. He
once more expelled the nobles; new revolutions ensued - the Barons were
recalled. The weak successor of Rienzi summoned the people to arms - in
vain: in terror and despair he abdicated his power, and left the city a
prey to the interminable feuds of the Orsini, the Colonna, and the
Savelli."
"Thus much I know, my Lord; but when his Holiness succeeded to the chair of
Clement VI. - "
"Then," said Albornoz, and a slight frown darkened his sallow brow, "then
came the blacker part of the history. Two senators were elected in concert
by the Pope."
"Their names?"
"Bertoldo Orsini, and one of the Colonna. A few weeks afterwards, the high
price of provisions stung the rascal stomachs of the mob - they rose, they
clamoured, they armed, they besieged the Capitol - "
"Well, well," cried the Signora, clasping her hands, and betokening in
every feature her interest in the narration.
"Colonna only escaped death by a vile disguise; Bertoldo Orsini was
stoned."
"Stoned! - there fell one!"
"Yes, lady, one of a great house; the least drop of whose blood were worth
an ocean of plebeian puddle. At present, all is disorder, misrule,
anarchy, at Rome. The contests of the nobles shake the city to the centre;
and prince and people, wearied of so many experiments to establish a
government, have now no governor but the fear of the sword. Such, fair
madam, is the state of Rome. Sigh not, it occupies now our care. It shall
be remedied; and I, madam, may be the happy instrument of restoring peace
to your native city."
"There is but one way of restoring peace to Rome," answered the Signora,
abruptly, "and that is - The restoration of Rienzi!"
The Cardinal started. "Madam," said he, "do I hear aright? - are you not
nobly born? - can you desire the rise of a plebeian? Did you not speak of
revenge, and now you ask for mercy?"
"Lord Cardinal," said the beautiful Signora, earnestly, "I do not ask for
mercy: such a word is not for the lips of one who demands justice. Nobly
born I am - ay, and from a stock to whose long descent from the patricians
of ancient Rome the high line of Aragon itself would be of yesterday. Nay,
I would not offend you, Monsignore; your greatness is not borrowed from
pedigrees and tombstones - your greatness is your own achieving: would you
speak honestly, my Lord, you would own that you are proud only of your own
laurels, and that, in your heart, you laugh at the stately fools who trick
themselves out in the mouldering finery of the dead!"
"Muse! prophetess! you speak aright," said the high-spirited Cardinal, with
unwonted energy; "and your voice is like that of the Fame I dreamed of in
my youth. Speak on, speak ever!"
"Such," continued the Signora, "such as your pride, is the just pride of
Rienzi. Proud that he is the workman of his own great renown. In such as
the Tribune of Rome we acknowledge the founders of noble lineage. Ancestry
makes not them - they make ancestry. Enough of this. I am of noble race,
it is true; but my house, and those of many, have been crushed and broken
beneath the yoke of the Orsini and Colonna - it is against them I desire
revenge. But I am better than an Italian lady - I am a Roman woman - I
weep tears of blood for the disorders of my unhappy country. I mourn that
even you, my Lord, - yes, that a barbarian, however eminent and however
great, should mourn for Rome. I desire to restore her fortunes."
"But Rienzi would only restore his own."
"Not so, my Lord Cardinal; not so. Ambitious and proud he may be - great
souls are so - but he has never had one wish divorced from the welfare of
Rome. But put aside all thought of his interests - it is not of these I
speak. You desire to re-establish the papal power in Rome. Your senators
have failed to do it. Demagogues fail - Rienzi alone can succeed; he alone
can command the turbulent passions of the Barons - he alone can sway the
capricious and fickle mob. Release, restore Rienzi, and through Rienzi the
Pope regains Rome!"
The Cardinal did not answer for some moments. Buried as in a revery, he
sate motionless, shading his face with his hand. Perhaps he secretly owned
there was a wiser policy in the suggestions of the Signora than he cared
openly to confess. Lifting his head, at length, from his bosom, he fixed
his eyes upon the Signora's watchful countenance, and, with a forced smile,
said,
"Pardon me, madam; but while we play the politicians, forget not that I am
thy adorer. Sagacious may be thy counsels, yet wherefore are they urged?
Why this anxious interest for Rienzi? If by releasing him the Church may
gain an ally, am I sure that Giles d'Albornoz will not raise a rival?"
"My Lord, said the Signora, half rising, "you are my suitor; but your rank
does not tempt me - your gold cannot buy. If you love me, I have a right
to command your services to whatsoever task I would require - it is the law
of chivalry. If ever I yield to the addresses of mortal lover, it will be
to the man who restores to my native land her hero and her saviour."
"Fair patriot," said the Cardinal, "your words encourage my hope, yet they
half damp my ambition; for fain would I desire that love and not service
should alone give me the treasure that I ask. But hear me, sweet lady; you
over-rate my power: I cannot deliver Rienzi - he is accused of rebellion,
he is excommunicated for heresy. His acquittal rests with himself."
"You can procure his trial?"
"Perhaps, Lady."
"That is his acquittal. And a private audience of his Holiness?"
"Doubtless."
"That is his restoration! Behold all I ask!"
"And then, sweet Roman, it will be mine to ask," said the Cardinal,
passionately, dropping on his knee, and taking the Signora's hand. For one
moment, that proud lady felt that she was woman - she blushed, she
trembled; but it was not (could the Cardinal have read that heart) with
passion or with weakness; it was with terror and with shame. Passively she
surrendered her hand to the Cardinal, who covered it with kisses.
"Thus inspired," said Albornoz, rising, "I will not doubt of success.
Tomorrow I wait on thee again."
He pressed her hand to his heart - the lady felt it not. He sighed his
farewell - she did not hear it. Lingeringly he gazed; and slowly he
departed. But it was some moments before, recalled to herself, the Signora
felt that she was alone.
"Alone!" she cried, half aloud, and with wild emphasis - "alone! Oh, what
have I undergone - what have I said! Unfaithful, even in thought, to him!
Oh, never! never! I, that have felt the kiss of his hallowing lips - that
have slept on his kingly heart - I! - holy Mother, befriend and strengthen
me!" she continued, as, weeping bitterly, she sunk upon her knees; and for
some moments she was lost in prayer. Then, rising composed, but deadly
pale, and with the tears rolling heavily down her cheeks, the Signora
passed slowly to the casement; she threw it open, and bent forward; the air
of the declining day came softly on her temples; it cooled, it mitigated,
the fever that preyed within. Dark and huge before her frowned, in its
gloomy shadow, the tower in which Rienzi was confined; she gazed at it long
and wistfully, and then, turning away, drew from the folds of her robe a
small and sharp dagger. "Let me save him for glory!" she murmured; "and
this shall save me from dishonour!"
