Rienzi, Last of the Roman Tribunes Part 34

"The Capitol deserted!-impossible!" cried Rienzi. He strode across the chambers to the ante-room, where his night-guard usually waited-it was empty! He pa.s.sed hastily to Villani's room-it was untenanted! He would have pa.s.sed farther, but the doors were secured without. It was evident that all egress had been cut off, save by the private door below,-and that had been left open to admit his murtherers!

He returned to his room-Nina had already gone to rouse and prepare Irene, whose chamber was on the other side, within one of their own.

"Quick, Senator!" said Adrian. "Methinks there is yet time. We must make across to the Tiber. I have stationed my faithful squires and Northmen there. A boat waits us."

"Hark!" interrupted Rienzi, whose senses had of late been preternaturally quickened. "I hear a distant shout-a familiar shout, 'Viva 'l Popolo!' Why, so say I! These must be friends."

"Deceive not thyself; thou hast scarce a friend at Rome."

"Hist!" said Rienzi, in a whisper; "save Nina-save Irene. I cannot accompany thee."

"Art thou mad?"

"No! but fearless. Besides, did I accompany, I might but destroy you all. Were I found with you, you would be ma.s.sacred with me. Without me ye are safe. Yes, even the Senator's wife and sister have provoked no revenge. Save them, n.o.ble Colonna! Cola di Rienzi puts his trust in G.o.d alone!"

By this time Nina had returned; Irene with her. Afar was heard the tramp-steady-slow-gathering-of the fatal mult.i.tude.

"Now, Cola," said Nina, with a bold and cheerful air, and she took her husband's arm, while Adrian had already found his charge in Irene.

"Yes, now, Nina!" said Rienzi; "at length we part! If this is my last hour-in my last hour I pray G.o.d to bless and shield thee! for verily, thou hast been my exceeding solace-provident as a parent, tender as a child, the smile of my hearth, the-the-"

Rienzi was almost unmanned. Emotions, deep, conflicting, unspeakably fond and grateful, literally choked his speech.

"What!" cried Nina, clinging to his breast, and parting her hair from her eyes, as she sought his averted face. "Part!-never! This is my place-all Rome shall not tear me from it!"

Adrian, in despair, seized her hand, and attempted to drag her thence.

"Touch me not, sir!" said Nina, waving her arm with angry majesty, while her eyes sparkled as a lioness, whom the huntsmen would sever from her young. "I am the wife of Cola di Rienzi, the Great Senator of Rome, and by his side will I live and die!"

"Take her hence: quick!-quick! I hear the crowd advancing."

Irene tore herself from Adrian, and fell at the feet of Rienzi-she clasped his knees.

"Come, my brother, come! Why lose these precious moments? Rome forbids you to cast away a life in which her very self is bound up."

"Right, Irene; Rome is bound up with me, and we will rise or fall together!-no more!"

"You destroy us all!" said Adrian, with generous and impatient warmth. "A few minutes more, and we are lost. Rash man! it is not to fall by an infuriate mob that you have been preserved from so many dangers."

"I believe it," said the Senator, as his tall form seemed to dilate as with the greatness of his own soul. "I shall triumph yet! Never shall mine enemies-never shall posterity say that a second time Rienzi abandoned Rome! Hark! 'Viva 'l Popolo!' still the cry of 'THE PEOPLE.' That cry scares none but tyrants! I shall triumph and survive!"

"And I with thee!" said Nina, firmly. Rienzi paused a moment, gazed on his wife, pa.s.sionately clasped her to his heart, kissed her again and again, and then said, "Nina, I command thee,-Go!"

"Never!"

He paused. Irene's face, drowned in tears, met his eyes.

"We will all perish with you," said his sister; "you only, Adrian, you leave us!"

"Be it so," said the Knight, sadly; "we will all remain," and he desisted at once from further effort.

There was a dead but short pause, broken but by a convulsive sob from Irene. The tramp of the raging thousands sounded fearfully distinct. Rienzi seemed lost in thought-then lifting his head, he said, calmly, "ye have triumphed-I join ye-I but collect these papers, and follow you. Quick, Adrian-save them!" and he pointed meaningly to Nina.

Waiting no other hint, the young Colonna seized Nina in his strong grasp-with his left hand he supported Irene, who with terror and excitement was almost insensible. Rienzi relieved him of the lighter load-he took his sister in his arms, and descended the winding stairs. Nina remained pa.s.sive-she heard her husband's step behind, it was enough for her-she but turned once to thank him with her eyes. A tall Northman clad in armour stood at the open door. Rienzi placed Irene, now perfectly lifeless, in the soldier's arms, and kissed her pale cheek in silence.

"Quick, my Lord," said the Northman, "on all sides they come!" So saying, he bounded down the descent with his burthen. Adrian followed with Nina; the Senator paused one moment, turned back, and was in his room ere Adrian was aware that he had vanished.

Hastily he drew the coverlid from his bed, fastened it to the cas.e.m.e.nt bars, and by its aid dropped (at a distance of several feet) into the balcony below. "I will not die like a rat," said he, "in the trap they have set for me! The whole crowd shall, at least, see and hear me."

This was the work of a moment.

Meanwhile, Nina had scarcely proceeded six paces, before she discovered that she was alone with Adrian.

"Ha! Cola!" she cried, "where is he? he has gone!"

"Take heart, Lady, he has returned but for some secret papers he has forgotten. He will follow us anon."

"Let us wait, then."

"Lady," said Adrian, grinding his teeth, "hear you not the crowd?-on, on!" and he flew with a swifter step. Nina struggled in his grasp-Love gave her the strength of despair. With a wild laugh she broke from him. She flew back-the door was closed-but unbarred-her trembling hands lingered a moment round the spring. She opened it, drew the heavy bolt across the panels, and frustrated all attempt from Adrian to regain her. She was on the stairs,-she was in the room. Rienzi was gone! She fled, shrieking his name, through the State Chambers-all was desolate. She found the doors opening on the various pa.s.sages that admitted to the rooms below barred without. Breathless and gasping, she returned to the chamber. She hurried to the cas.e.m.e.nt-she perceived the method by which he had descended below-her brave heart told her of his brave design;-she saw they were separated,-"But the same roof holds us," she cried, joyously, "and our fate shall be the same!" With that thought she sank in mute patience on the floor.

Forming the generous resolve not to abandon the faithful and devoted pair without another effort, Adrian had followed Nina, but too late-the door was closed against his efforts. The crowd marched on-he heard their cry change on a sudden-it was no longer "LIVE THE PEOPLE!" but "DEATH TO THE TRAITOR!" His attendant had already disappeared, and waking now only to the danger of Irene, the Colonna in bitter grief turned away, lightly sped down the descent, and hastened to the riverside, where the boat and his band awaited him.

The balcony on which Rienzi had alighted was that from which he had been accustomed to address the people-it communicated with a vast hall used on solemn occasions for State festivals-and on either side were square projecting towers, whose grated cas.e.m.e.nts looked into the balcony. One of these towers was devoted to the armory, the other contained the prison of Brettone, the brother of Montreal. Beyond the latter tower was the general prison of the Capitol. For then the prison and the palace were in awful neighbourhood!

The windows of the Hall were yet open-and Rienzi pa.s.sed into it from the balcony-the witness of the yesterday's banquet was still there-the wine, yet undried, crimsoned the floor, and goblets of gold and silver shone from the recesses. He proceeded at once to the armory, and selected from the various suits that which he himself had worn when, nearly eight years ago, he had chased the Barons from the gates of Rome. He arrayed himself in the mail, leaving only his head uncovered; and then taking, in his right hand, from the wall, the great Gonfalon of Rome, returned once more to the hall. Not a man encountered him. In that vast building, save the prisoners, and the faithful Nina, whose presence he knew not of-the Senator was alone.

On they came, no longer in measured order, as stream after stream-from lane, from alley, from palace and from hovel-the raging sea received new additions. On they came-their pa.s.sions excited by their numbers-women and men, children and malignant age-in all the awful array of aroused, released, unresisted physical strength and brutal wrath; "Death to the traitor-death to the tyrant-death to him who has taxed the people!"-"Mora l' traditore che ha fatta la gabella!-Mora!" Such was the cry of the people-such the crime of the Senator! They broke over the low palisades of the Capitol-they filled with one sudden rush the vast s.p.a.ce;-a moment before so desolate,-now swarming with human beings athirst for blood!

Suddenly came a dead silence, and on the balcony above stood Rienzi-his head was bared and the morning sun shone over that lordly brow, and the hair grown grey before its time, in the service of that maddening mult.i.tude. Pale and erect he stood-neither fear, nor anger, nor menace-but deep grief and high resolve-upon his features! A momentary shame-a momentary awe seized the crowd.

He pointed to the Gonfalon, wrought with the Republican motto and arms of Rome, and thus he began:- "I too am a Roman and a Citizen; hear me!"

"Hear him not! hear him not! his false tongue can charm away our senses!" cried a voice louder than his own; and Rienzi recognised Cecco del Vecchio.

"Hear him not! down with the tyrant!" cried a more shrill and youthful tone; and by the side of the artisan stood Angelo Villani.

"Hear him not! death to the death-giver!" cried a voice close at hand, and from the grating of the neighbouring prison glared near upon him, as the eye of a tiger, the vengeful gaze of the brother of Montreal.

Then from Earth to Heaven rose the roar-"Down with the tyrant-down with him who taxed the people!"

A shower of stones rattled on the mail of the Senator,-still he stirred not. No changing muscle betokened fear. His persuasion of his own wonderful powers of eloquence, if he could but be heard, inspired him yet with hope; he stood collected in his own indignant, but determined thoughts;-but the knowledge of that very eloquence was now his deadliest foe. The leaders of the mult.i.tude trembled lest he should be heard; "and doubtless," says the contemporaneous biographer, "had he but spoken he would have changed them all, and the work been marred."

The soldiers of the Barons had already mixed themselves with the throng-more deadly weapons than stones aided the wrath of the mult.i.tude-darts and arrows darkened the air; and now a voice was heard shrieking, "Way for the torches!" And red in the sunlight the torches tossed and waved, and danced to and fro, above the heads of the crowd, as if the fiends were let loose amongst the mob! And what place in h.e.l.l hath fiends like those a mad mob can furnish? Straw, and wood, and litter, were piled hastily round the great doors of the Capitol, and the smoke curled suddenly up, beating back the rush of the a.s.sailants.

Rienzi was no longer visible, an arrow had pierced his hand-the right hand that supported the flag of Rome-the right hand that had given a const.i.tution to the Republic. He retired from the storm into the desolate hall.

He sat down;-and tears, springing from no weak and woman source, but tears from the loftiest fountain of emotion-tears that befit a warrior when his own troops desert him-a patriot when his countrymen rush to their own doom-a father when his children rebel against his love,-tears such as these forced themselves from his eyes and relieved,-but they changed, his heart!

"Enough, enough!" he said, presently rising and dashing the drops scornfully away; "I have risked, dared, toiled enough for this dastard and degenerate race. I will yet baffle their malice-I renounce the thought of which they are so little worthy!-Let Rome perish!-I feel, at last, that I am n.o.bler than my country!-she deserves not so high a sacrifice!"

With that feeling, Death lost all the n.o.bleness of aspect it had before presented to him; and he resolved, in very scorn of his ungrateful foes, in very defeat of their inhuman wrath, to make one effort for his life! He divested himself of his glittering arms; his address, his dexterity, his craft, returned to him. His active mind ran over the chances of disguise-of escape;-he left the hall-pa.s.sed through the humbler rooms, devoted to the servitors and menials-found in one of them a coa.r.s.e working garb-indued himself with it-placed upon his head some of the draperies and furniture of the palace, as if escaping with them; and said, with his old "fantastico riso" ("Fantastic smile or laugh.")-"When all other friends desert me, I may well forsake myself!" With that he awaited his occasion.

Meanwhile the flames burnt fierce and fast; the outer door below was already consumed; from the apartment he had deserted the fire burst out in volleys of smoke-the wood crackled-the lead melted-with a crash fell the severed gates-the dreadful entrance was opened to all the mult.i.tude-the proud Capitol of the Caesars was already tottering to its fall!-Now was the time!-he pa.s.sed the flaming door-the smouldering threshold;-he pa.s.sed the outer gate unscathed-he was in the middle of the crowd. "Plenty of pillage within," he said to the bystanders, in the Roman patois, his face concealed by his load-"Suso, suso a gliu traditore!" (Down, down with the traitor.) The mob rushed past him-he went on-he gained the last stair descending into the open streets-he was at the last gate-liberty and life were before him.

A soldier (one of his own) seized him. "Pa.s.s not-whither goest thou?"

"Beware, lest the Senator escape disguised!" cried a voice behind-it was Villani's. The concealing load was torn from his head-Rienzi stood revealed!

"I am the Senator!" he said in a loud voice. "Who dare touch the Representative of the People?"

The mult.i.tude were round him in an instant. Not led, but rather hurried and whirled along, the Senator was borne to the Place of the Lion. With the intense glare of the bursting flames, the grey image reflected a lurid light, and glowed-(that grim and solemn monument!)-as if itself of fire!

There arrived, the crowd gave way, terrified by the greatness of their victim. Silent he stood, and turned his face around; nor could the squalor of his garb, nor the terror of the hour, nor the proud grief of detection, abate the majesty of his mien, or rea.s.sure the courage of the thousands who gathered, gazing, round him. The whole Capitol wrapped in fire, lighted with ghastly pomp the immense mult.i.tude. Down the long vista of the streets extended the fiery light and the serried throng, till the crowd closed with the gleaming standards of the Colonna-the Orsini-the Savelli! Her true tyrants were marching into Rome! As the sound of their approaching horns and trumpets broke upon the burning air, the mob seemed to regain their courage. Rienzi prepared to speak; his first word was as the signal of his own death.

"Die, tyrant!" cried Cecco del Vecchio: and he plunged his dagger in the Senator's breast.

"Die, executioner of Montreal!" muttered Villani: "thus the trust is fulfilled!" and his was the second stroke. Then as he drew back, and saw the artisan in all the drunken fury of his brute pa.s.sion, tossing up his cap, shouting aloud, and spurning the fallen lion,-the young man gazed upon him with a look of withering and bitter scorn, and said, while he sheathed his blade, and slowly turned to quit the crowd, "Fool, miserable fool! thou and these at least had no blood of kindred to avenge!"

They heeded not his words-they saw him not depart; for as Rienzi, without a word, without a groan, fell to the earth,-as the roaring waves of the mult.i.tude closed over him,-a voice, shrill, sharp, and wild, was heard above all the clamour. At the cas.e.m.e.nt of the Palace, (the cas.e.m.e.nt of her bridal chamber,) Nina stood!-through the flames that burst below and around, her face and outstretched arms alone visible! Ere yet the sound of that thrilling cry pa.s.sed from the air, down with a mighty crash thundered that whole wing of the Capitol,-a blackened and smouldering ma.s.s.

At that hour, a solitary boat was gliding swiftly along the Tiber. Rome was at a distance, but the lurid blow of the conflagration cast its reflection upon the placid and gla.s.sy stream: fair beyond description was the landscape; soft beyond all art of Painter and of Poet, the sunlight quivering over the autumnal herbage, and hushing into tender calm the waves of the golden River!

Adrian's eyes were strained towards the towers of the Capitol, distinguished by the flames from the spires and domes around;-senseless, and clasped to his guardian breast, Irene was happily unconscious of the horrors of the time.

"They dare not-they dare not," said the brave Colonna, "touch a hair of that sacred head!-if Rienzi fall, the liberties of Rome fall for ever! As those towers that surmount the flames, the pride and monument of Rome, he shall rise above the dangers of the hour. Behold, still unscathed amidst the raging element, the Capitol itself is his emblem!"

Scarce had he spoken, when a vast volume of smoke obscured the fires afar off, a dull crash (deadened by the distance) travelled to his ear, and the next moment, the towers on which he gazed had vanished from the scene, and one intense and sullen glare seemed to settle over the atmosphere,-making all Rome itself the funeral pyre of THE LAST OF THE ROMAN TRIBUNES!

The End.

Appendix I. Some Remarks on the Life and Character of Rienzi.

The princ.i.p.al authority from which historians have taken their account of the life and times of Rienzi is a very curious biography, by some unknown contemporary; and this, which is in the Roman patois of the time, has been rendered not quite unfamiliar to the French and English reader by the work of Pere du Cerceau, called "Conjuration de Nicolas Gabrini, dit de Rienzi," (See for a specimen of the singular blunders of the Frenchman's work, Appendix II.) which has at once pillaged and deformed the Roman biographer. The biography I refer to was published (and the errors of the former editions revised) by Muratori in his great collection; and has lately been reprinted separately in an improved text, accompanied by notes of much discrimination and scholastic taste, and a comment upon that celebrated poem of Petrarch, "Spirito Gentil," which the majority of Italian critics have concurred in considering addressed to Rienzi, in spite of the ingenious arguments to the contrary by the Abbe de Sade.

This biography has been generally lauded for its rare impartiality. And the author does, indeed, praise and blame alike with a most singular appearance of stolid candour. The work, in truth, is one of those not uncommon proofs, of which Boswell's "Johnson" is the most striking, that a very valuable book may be written by a very silly man. The biographer of Rienzi appears more like the historian of Rienzi's clothes, so minute is he on all details of their colour and quality-so silent is he upon everything that could throw light upon the motives of their wearer. In fact, granting the writer every desire to be impartial, he is too foolish to be so. It requires some cleverness to judge accurately of a very clever man in very difficult circ.u.mstances; and the worthy biographer is utterly incapable of giving us any clue to the actions of Rienzi-utterly unable to explain the conduct of the man by the circ.u.mstances of the time. The weakness of his vision causes him, therefore, often to squint. We must add to his want of wisdom a want of truth, which the Herodotus-like simplicity of his style frequently conceals. He describes things which had no witness as precisely and distinctly as those which he himself had seen. For instance, before the death of Rienzi, in those awful moments when the Senator was alone, unheard, unseen, he coolly informs us of each motion, and each thought of Rienzi's, with as much detail as if Rienzi had returned from the grave to a.s.sist his narration. These obvious inventions have been adopted by Gibbon and others with more good faith than the laws of evidence would warrant. Still, however, to a patient and cautious reader the biography may furnish a much better notion of Rienzi's character, than we can glean from the historians who have borrowed from it piecemeal. Such a reader will discard all the writer's reasonings, will think little of his praise or blame, and regard only the facts he narrates, judging them true or doubtful, according as the writer had the opportunities of being himself the observer. Thus examining, the reader will find evidence sufficient of Rienzi's genius and Rienzi's failings: Carefully distinguishing between the period of his power as Tribune, and that of his power as Senator, he will find the Tribune vain, haughty, fond of display; but, despite the reasonings of the biographer, he will not recognise those faults in the Senator. On the other hand, he will notice the difference between youth and maturity-hope and experience; he will notice in the Tribune vast ambition, great schemes, enterprising activity-which sober into less gorgeous and more quiet colours in the portrait of the Senator. He will find that in neither instance did Rienzi fall from his own faults-he will find that the vulgar moral of ambition, blasted by its own excesses, is not the true moral of the Roman's life; he will find that, both in his abdication as Tribune, and his death as Senator, Rienzi fell from the vices of the People. The Tribune was a victim to ignorant cowardice-the Senator, a victim to ferocious avarice. It is this which modern historians have failed to represent. Gibbon records rightly, that the Count of Minorbino entered Rome with one hundred and fifty soldiers, and barricadoed the quarter of the Colonna-that the bell of the Capitol sounded-that Rienzi addressed the People-that they were silent and inactive-and that Rienzi then abdicated the government. But for this he calls Rienzi "pusillanimous." Is not that epithet to be applied to the People? Rienzi invoked them to move against the Robber-the People refused to obey. Rienzi wished to fight-the People refused to stir. It was not the cause of Rienzi alone which demanded their exertions-it was the cause of the People-theirs, not his, the shame, if one hundred and fifty foreign soldiers mastered Rome, overthrew their liberties, and restored their tyrants! Whatever Rienzi's sins, whatever his unpopularity, their freedom, their laws, their republic, were at stake; and these they surrendered to one hundred and fifty hirelings! This is the fact that d.a.m.ns them! But Rienzi was not unpopular when he addressed and conjured them: they found no fault with him. "The sighs and the groans of the People," says Sismondi, justly, "replied to his,"-they could weep, but they would not fight. This strange apathy the modern historians have not accounted for, yet the princ.i.p.al cause was obvious-Rienzi was excommunicated! (And this curse I apprehend to have been the more effective in the instance of Rienzi, from a fact that it would be interesting and easy to establish: viz., that he owed his rise as much to religious as to civil causes. He aimed evidently to be a religious Reformer. All his devices, ceremonies, and watchwords, were of a religious character. The monks took part with his enterprise, and joined in the revolution. His letters are full of mystical fanaticism. His references to ancient heroes of Rome are always mingled with invocations to her Christian Saints. The Bible, at that time little read by the public civilians of Italy, is constantly in his hands, and his addresses studded with texts. His very garments were adorned with sacred and mysterious emblems. No doubt, the ceremony of his Knighthood, which Gibbon ridicules as an act of mere vanity, was but another of his religious extravagances; for he peculiarly dedicated his Knighthood to the service of the Santo Spirito; and his bathing in the vase of Constantine was quite of a piece, not with the vanity of the Tribune, but with the extravagance of the Fanatic. In fact, they tried hard to prove him a heretic; but he escaped a charge under the mild Innocent, which a century or two before, or a century or two afterwards, would have sufficed to have sent a dozen Rienzis to the stake. I have dwelt the more upon this point, because, if it be shown that religious causes operated with those of liberty, we throw a new light upon the whole of that most extraordinary revolution, and its suddenness is infinitely less striking. The deep impression Rienzi produced upon that populace was thus stamped with the spirit of the religious enthusiast more than that of the cla.s.sical demagogue. And, as in the time of Cromwell, the desire for temporal liberty was warmed and coloured by the presence of a holier and more spiritual fervour:-"The Good Estate" (Buono Stato) of Rienzi reminds us a little of the Good Cause of General Cromwell.) In stating the fact, these writers have seemed to think that excommunication in Rome, in the fourteenth century, produced no effect!-the effect it did produce I have endeavoured in these pages to convey.

The causes of the second fall and final murder of Rienzi are equally misstated by modern narrators. It was from no fault of his-no injustice, no cruelty, no extravagance-it was not from the execution of Montreal, nor that of Pandulfo di Guido--it was from a gabelle on wine and salt that he fell. To preserve Rome from the tyrants it was necessary to maintain an armed force; to pay the force a tax was necessary; the tax was imposed-and the mult.i.tude joined with the tyrants, and their cry was, "Perish the traitor who has made the gabelle!" This was their only charge-this the only crime that their pa.s.sions and their fury could cite against him.

The faults of Rienzi are sufficiently visible, and I have not unsparingly shewn them; but we must judge men, not according as they approach perfection, but according as their good or bad qualities preponderate-their talents or their weaknesses-the benefits they effected, the evil they wrought. For a man who rose to so great a power, Rienzi's faults were singularly few-crimes he committed none. He is almost the only man who ever rose from the rank of a citizen to a power equal to that of monarchs without a single act of violence or treachery. When in power, he was vain, ostentatious, and imprudent,-always an enthusiast-often a fanatic; but his very faults had greatness of soul, and his very fanaticism at once supported his enthusiastic daring, and proved his earnest honesty. It is evident that no heinous charge could be brought against him even by his enemies, for all the accusations to which he was subjected, when excommunicated, exiled, fallen, were for two offences which Petrarch rightly deemed the proofs of his virtue and his glory: first, for declaring Rome to be free; secondly, for pretending that the Romans had a right of choice in the election of the Roman Emperor. (The charge of heresy was dropped.) Stern, just, and inflexible, as he was when Tribune, his fault was never that of wanton cruelty. The accusation against him, made by the gentle Petrarch, indeed, was that he was not determined enough-that he did not consummate the revolution by exterminating the patrician tyrants. When Senator, he was, without sufficient ground, accused of avarice in the otherwise just and necessary execution of Montreal. (Gibbon, in mentioning the execution of Montreal, omits to state that Montreal was more than suspected of conspiracy and treason to restore the Colonna. Matthew Villani records it as a common belief that such truly was the offence of the Provencal. The biographer of Rienzi gives additional evidence of the fact. Gibbon's knowledge of this time was superficial. As one instance of this, he strangely enough represents Montreal as the head of the first Free Company that desolated Italy: he took that error from the Pere du Cerceau.) It was natural enough that his enemies and the vulgar should suppose that he executed a creditor to get rid of a debt; but it was inexcusable in later, and wiser, and fairer writers to repeat so grave a calumny, without at least adding the obvious suggestion, that the avarice of Rienzi could have been much better gratified by sparing than by destroying the life of one of the richest subjects in Europe. Montreal, we may be quite sure, would have purchased his life at an immeasurably higher price than the paltry sum lent to Rienzi by his brothers. And this is not a probable hypothesis, but a certain fact, for we are expressly told that Montreal, "knowing the Tribune was in want of money, offered Rienzi, that if he would let him go, he, Montreal, would furnish him not only with twenty thousand florins, (four times the amount of Rienzi's debt to him,) but with as many soldiers and as much money as he pleased." This offer Rienzi did not attend to. Would he have rejected it had avarice been his motive? And what culpable injustice, to mention the vague calumny without citing the practical contradiction! When Gibbon tells us, also, that "the most virtuous citizen of Rome," meaning Pandulfo, or Pandolficcio di Guido, (Matthew Villani speaks of him as a wise and good citizen, of great repute among the People-and this, it seems, he really was.) was sacrificed to his jealousy, he a little exaggerates the expression bestowed upon Pandulfo, which is that of "virtuoso a.s.sai;" and that expression, too, used by a man who styles the robber Montreal, "eccellente uomo-di quale fama suono per tutta la Italia di virtude" ("An excellent man whose fame for valour resounded throughout all Italy.")-(so good a moral critic was the writer!) but he also altogether waves all mention of the probabilities that are sufficiently apparent, of the scheming of Pandulfo to supplant Rienzi, and to obtain the "Signoria del Popolo." Still, however, if the death of Pandulfo may be considered a blot on the memory of Rienzi, it does not appear that it was this which led to his own fate. The cry of the mob surrounding his palace was not, "Perish him who executed Pandulfo," it was-and this again and again must be carefully noted-it was nothing more nor less than, "Perish him who has made the gabelle!"

Gibbon sneers at the military skill and courage of Rienzi. For this sneer there is no cause. His first attempts, his first rise, attested sufficiently his daring and brave spirit; in every danger he was present-never shrinking from a foe so long as he was supported by the People. He distinguished himself at Viterbo when in the camp of Albornoz, in several feats of arms, ("Vita di Cola di Rienzi", lib. ii. cap. 14.) and his end was that of a hero. So much for his courage; as to his military skill; it would be excusable enough if Rienzi-the eloquent and gifted student, called from the closet and the rostrum to a.s.sume the command of an army-should have been deficient in the art of war; yet, somehow or other, upon the whole, his arms prospered. He defeated the chivalry of Rome at her gates; and if he did not, after his victory, march to Marino, for which his biographer (In this the anonymous writer compares him gravely to Hannibal, who knew how to conquer, but not how to use his conquest.) and Gibbon blame him, the reason is sufficiently clear-"Volea pecunia per soldati"-he wanted money for the soldiers! On his return as Senator, it must be remembered that he had to besiege Palestrina, which was considered even by the ancient Romans almost impregnable by position; but during the few weeks he was in power, Palestrina yielded-all his open enemies were defeated-the tyrants expelled-Rome free; and this without support from any party, Papal or Popular, or, as Gibbon well expresses it, "suspected by the People-abandoned by the Prince."

On regarding what Rienzi did, we must look to his means, to the difficulties that surrounded him, to the scantiness of his resources. We see a man without rank, wealth, or friends, raising himself to the head of a popular government in the metropolis of the Church-in the City of the Empire. We see him reject any t.i.tle save that of a popular magistrate-establish at one stroke a free const.i.tution-a new code of law. We see him first expel, then subdue, the fiercest aristocracy in Europe-conquer the most stubborn banditti, rule impartially the most turbulent people, embruted by the violence, and sunk in the corruption of centuries. We see him restore trade-establish order-create civilization as by a miracle-receive from crowned heads homage and congratulation-outwit, conciliate, or awe, the wiliest priesthood of the Papal Diplomacy-and raise his native city at once to sudden yet acknowledged eminence over every other state, its superior in arts, wealth, and civilization;-we ask what errors we are to weigh in the opposite balance, and we find an unnecessary ostentation, a fanatical extravagance, and a certain insolent sternness. But what are such offences-what the splendour of a banquet, or the ceremony of Knighthood, or a few arrogant words, compared with the vices of almost every prince who was his contemporary? This is the way to judge character: we must compare men with men, and not with ideals of what men should be. We look to the amazing benefits Rienzi conferred upon his country. We ask his means, and see but his own abilities. His treasury becomes impoverished-his enemies revolt-the Church takes advantage of his weakness-he is excommunicated-the soldiers refuse to fight-the People refuse to a.s.sist-the Barons ravage the country-the ways are closed, the provisions are cut off from Rome. ("Allora le strade furo chiuse, li ma.s.sari de la terre non portavano grano, ogni die nasceva nuovo rumore."-"Vita di Cola di Rienzi", lib. i. cap. 37.) A handful of banditti enter the city-Rienzi proposes to resist them-the People desert-he abdicates. Rapine, Famine, Ma.s.sacre, ensue-they who deserted regret, repent-yet he is still una.s.sisted, alone-now an exile, now a prisoner, his own genius saves him from every peril, and restores him to greatness. He returns, the Pope's Legate refuses him arms-the People refuse him money. He re-establishes law and order, expels the tyrants, renounces his former faults (this, the second period of his power, has been represented by Gibbon and others as that of his princ.i.p.al faults, and he is evidently at this time no favourite with his contemporaneous biographer; but looking to what he did, we find amazing dexterity, prudence, and energy in the most difficult crisis, and none of his earlier faults. It is true, that he does not shew the same brilliant extravagance which, I suspect, dazzled his contemporaries, more than his sounder qualities; but we find that in a few weeks he had conquered all his powerful enemies-that his eloquence was as great as ever-his prompt.i.tude greater-his diligence indefatigable-his foresight unslumbering. "He alone," says the biographer, "carried on the affairs of Rome, but his officials were slothful and cold." This too, tortured by a painful disease-already-though yet young-broken and infirm. The only charges against him, as Senator, were the deaths of Montreal and Pandulfo di Guido, the imposition of the gabelle, and the renunciation of his former habits of rigid abstinence, for indulgence in wine and feasting. Of the first charges, the reader has already been enabled to form a judgment. To the last, alas! the reader must extend indulgence, and for it he may find excuse. We must compa.s.sionate even more than condemn the man to whom excitement has become nature, and who resorts to the physical stimulus or the momentary Lethe, when the mental exhilarations of hope, youth, and glory, begin to desert him. His alleged intemperance, however, which the Romans (a peculiarly sober people) might perhaps exaggerate, and for which he gave the excuse of a thirst produced by disease contracted in the dungeon of Avignon-evidently and confessedly did not in the least diminish his attention to business, which, according to his biographer, was at that time greater than ever.)-is prudent, wary, provident-reigns a few weeks-taxes the People, in support of the People, and is torn to pieces! One day of the rule that followed is sufficient to vindicate his reign and avenge his memory-and for centuries afterwards, whenever that wretched and degenerate populace dreamed of glory or sighed for justice, they recalled the bright vision of their own victim, and deplored the fate of Cola di Rienzi. That he was not a tyrant is clear in this-when he was dead, he was bitterly regretted. The People never regret a tyrant! From the unpopularity that springs from other faults there is often a re-action; but there is no re-action in the populace towards their betrayor or oppressor. A thousand biographies cannot decide upon the faults or merits of a ruler like the one fact, whether he is beloved or hated ten years after he is dead. But if the ruler has been murdered by the People, and is then regretted by them, their repentance is his acquittal.

I have said that the moral of the Tribune's life, and of this fiction, is not the stale and unprofitable moral that warns the ambition of an individual:-More vast, more solemn, and more useful, it addresses itself to nations. If I judge not erringly, it proclaims that, to be great and free, a People must trust not to individuals but themselves-that there is no sudden leap from servitude to liberty-that it is to inst.i.tutions, not to men, for they must look for reforms that last beyond the hour-that their own pa.s.sions are the real despots they should subdue, their own reason the true regenerator of abuses. With a calm and a n.o.ble people, the individual ambition of a citizen can never effect evil:-to be impatient of chains, is not to be worthy of freedom-to murder a magistrate is not to ameliorate the laws. (Rienzi was murdered because the Romans had been in the habit of murdering whenever they were displeased. They had, very shortly before, stoned one magistrate, and torn to pieces another. By the same causes and the same career a People may be made to resemble the bravo whose hand wanders to his knife at the smallest affront, and if today he poniards the enemy who a.s.saults him, tomorrow he strikes the friend who would restrain.) The People write their own condemnation whenever they use characters of blood; and theirs alone the madness and the crime, if they crown a tyrant or butcher a victim.

Appendix II. A Word Upon the Work by Pere du Cerceau and Pere Brumoy,

Ent.i.tled "Conjuration de Nicolas Gabrini, Dit de Rienzi, Tyran de Rome."

Shortly after the Romance of "Rienzi" first appeared, a translation of the biography compiled by Cerceau and Brumoy was published by Mr. Whittaker. The translator, in a short and courteous advertis.e.m.e.nt, observes, "That it has always been considered as a work of authority; and even Gibbon appears to have relied on it without further research: (Here, however, he does injustice to Gibbon.)...that, "as a record of facts, therefore, the work will, it is presumed, be acceptable to the public." The translator has fulfilled his duty with accuracy, elegance, and spirit,-and he must forgive me, if, in justice to History and Rienzi, I point out a very few from amongst a great many reasons, why the joint labour of the two worthy Jesuits cannot be considered either a work of authority, or a record of facts. The translator observes in his preface, "that the general outline (of Du Cerceau's work) was probably furnished by an Italian life written by a contemporary of Rienzi." The fact, however, is, that Du Cerceau's book is little more than a wretched paraphrase of that very Italian life mentioned by the translator,-full of blunders, from ignorance of the peculiar and antiquated dialect in which the original is written, and of a.s.sumptions by the Jesuit himself, which rest upon no authority whatever. I will first shew, in support of this a.s.sertion, what the Italians themselves think of the work of Fathers Brumoy and Du Cerceau. The Signor Zefirino Re, who had proved himself singularly and minutely acquainted with the history of that time, and whose notes to the "Life of Rienzi" are characterized by acknowledged acuteness and research, thus describes the manner in which the two Jesuits compounded this valuable "record of facts."

"Father Du Cerceau for his work made use of a French translation of the life by the Italian contemporary printed in Bracciano, 1624, executed by Father Sanadon, another Jesuit, from whom he received the MS. This proves that Du Cerceau knew little of our 'volgar lingua' of the fourteenth century. But the errors into which he has run shew, that even that little was unknown to his guide, and still less to Father Brumoy, (however learned and reputed the latter might be in French literature,) who, after the death of Du Cerceau, supplied the deficiencies in the first pages of the author's MS., which were, I know not how, lost; and in this part are found the more striking errors in the work, which shall be noticed in the proper place; in the meantime, one specimen will suffice. In the third chapter, book i., Cola, addressing the Romans, says, 'Che lo giubileo si approssima, che se la gente, la quale verra al giubileo, li trova sproveduti di annona, le pietre (per metatesi sta scritto le preite) ne porteranno da Roma per rabbia di fame, e le pietre non basteranno a tanta molt.i.tudine. Il francese traduce. Le jubile approche, et vous n'avez ni provisions, ni vivres; les etrangers...trouvent votre ville denue de tout. Ne comptez point sur les secours des gens d'Eglise; ils sortiront de la ville, s'ils n'y trouvent de quoi subsister: et d'ailleurs pourroient-ils suffire a la mult.i.tude innombrable, que se trouvera dans vos murs?'" (The English translator could not fail to adopt the Frenchman's ludicrous mistake.) "Buon Dio!" exclaims the learned Zefirino, "Buon Dio! le pietre prese per tanta gente di chiesa!" (See Preface to Zefirino Re's edition of the "Life of Rienzi," page 9, note on Du Cerceau.) Another blunder little less extraordinary occurs in Chapter vi., in which the ordinances of Rienzi's Buono Stato are recited.

It is set forth as the third ordinance:-"Che nulla case di Roma sia data per terra per alcuna cagione, ma vada in commune;" which simply means, that the houses of delinquents should in no instance be razed, but added to the community or confiscated. This law being intended partly to meet the barbarous violences with which the excesses and quarrels of the Barons had half dismantled Rome, and princ.i.p.ally to repeal some old penal laws by which the houses of a certain cla.s.s of offenders might be destroyed; but the French translator construes it, "Que nulle maison de Rome ne saroit donnee en propre, pour quelque raison que ce put etre; mais que les revenus en appartiendroient au public!" (The English translator makes this law unintelligible:-"That no family of Rome shall appropriate to their own use what they think fit, but that the revenues shall appertain to the public"!!!-the revenues of what?) But enough of the blunders arising from ignorance.-I must now be permitted to set before the reader a few of the graver offences of wilful a.s.sumption and preposterous invention.

When Rienzi condemned some of the Barons to death, the Pere thus writes; I take the recent translation published by Mr. Whittaker:- "The next day the Tribune, resolving more than ever to rid himself of his prisoners, ordered tapestries of two colours, red and white, to be laid over the place whereon he held his councils, and which he had made choice of to be the theatre of this b.l.o.o.d.y tragedy, as the extraordinary tapestry seemed to declare. He afterwards sent a cordelier to every one of the prisoners to administer the sacraments, and then ordered the Capitol bell to be tolled. At that fatal sound and the sight of the confessors, the Lords no longer doubted of sentence of death being pa.s.sed upon them. They all confessed except the old Colonna, and many received the communion. In the meanwhile the people, naturally prompt to attend, when their first impetuosity had time to calm, could not without pity behold the dismal preparations which were making. The sight of the b.l.o.o.d.y colour in the tapestry shocked them. On this first impression they joined in opinion in relation to so many ill.u.s.trious heads now going to be sacrificed, and lamented more their unhappy catastrophe, as no crime had been proved upon them to render them worthy of such barbarous treatment. Above all, the unfortunate Stephen Colonna, whose birth, age, and affable behaviour, commanded respect, excited a particular compa.s.sion. An universal silence and sorrow reigned among them. Those who were nearest Rienzi discovered an alteration. They took the opportunity of imploring his mercy towards the prisoners in terms the most affecting and moving."

Will it be believed, that in the original from which the Pere Du Cerceau borrows or rather imagines this touching recital, there is not a single syllable about the pity of the people, nor their shock at the b.l.o.o.d.y colours of the tapestry, nor their particular compa.s.sion for the unfortunate Stephen Colonna?-in fine, the People are not even mentioned at all. All that is said is, "Some Roman citizens, (alcuni cittadini Romani,) considering the judgment Rienzi was about to make, interposed with soft and caressing words, and at last changed the opinion of the Tribune;" all the rest is the pure fiction of the ingenious Frenchman! Again, Du Cerceau, describing the appearance of the Barons at this fatal moment, says, "Notwithstanding the grief and despair visible in their countenances, they shewed a n.o.ble indignation, generally attendant on innocence in the hour of death." What says the authority from which alone, except his own, the good Father could take his account? Why, not a word about this n.o.ble indignation, or this parade of innocence! The original says simply, that "the Barons were so frozen with terror that they were unable to speak," (diventaso si gelati che non poteano favellare;) "that the greater part humbled themselves," (e prese penitenza e comunione;) that when Rienzi addressed them "all the Barons (come dannati) stood in sadness." (See "Vita di Cola di Rienzi", lib. i. cap. 29.) Du Cerceau then proceeds to state, that "although he (Rienzi) was grieved at heart to behold his victims s.n.a.t.c.hed from him, he endeavoured to make a merit of it in the eyes of the People." There is not a word of this in the original!

So when Rienzi, on a latter occasion, placed the Prefect John di Vico in prison, this Jesuit says, "To put a gloss upon this action before the eyes of the people, Rienzi gave out that the Governor, John di Vico, keeping a correspondence with the conspirators, came with no other view than to betray the Romans." And if this scribbler, who pretends to have consulted the Vatican MSS., had looked at the most ordinary authorities, he would have seen that John di Vico did come with that view. (See for Di Vico's secret correspondence with the Barons, La Cron. Bologn. page 406; and La Cron. Est. page 444.) Again, in the battle between the Barons and the Romans at the gates, Du Cerceau thus describes the conduct of the Tribune:-"The Tribune, amidst his troops, knew so little of what had pa.s.sed, that seeing at a distance one of his standards fall, he looked upon all as lost, and, casting up his eyes to heaven full of despair, cried out, 'O G.o.d, will you then forsake me?' But no sooner was he informed of the entire defeat of his enemies, than his dread and cowardice even turned to boldness and arrogance."

Now in the original all that is said of this is, "That it is true that the standard of the Tribune fell-the Tribune astonished, (or if you please, dismayed, sbigottio,) stood with his eyes raised to heaven, and could find no other words than, 'O G.o.d hast thou betrayed me?'" This evinced, perhaps, alarm or consternation at the fall of his standard-a consternation natural, not to a coward, but a fanatic, at such an event. But not a word is said about Rienzi's cowardice in the action itself; it is not stated when the accident happened-nothing bears out the implication that the Tribune was remote from the contest, and knew little of what pa.s.sed. And if this ignorant Frenchman had consulted any other contemporaneous historian whatever, he would have found it a.s.serted by them all, that the fight was conducted with great valour, both by the Roman populace and their leader on the one side, and the Barons on the other.-G. Vill. lib. xii. cap. 105; Cron. Sen. tom. xv. Murat. page 119; Cron. Est. page 444. Yet Gibbon rests his own sarcasm on the Tribune's courage solely on the baseless exaggeration of this Pere Du Cerceau.

So little, indeed, did this French pretender know of the history of the time and place he treats of, that he imagines the Stephen Colonna who was killed in the battle above-mentioned was the old Stephen Colonna, and is very pathetic about his "venerable appearance," &c. This error, with regard to a man so eminent as Stephen Colonna the elder, is inexcusable: for, had the priest turned over the other pages of the very collection in which he found the biography he deforms, he would have learned that old Stephen Colonna was alive some time after that battle.-(Cron. Sen. Murat. tom. xv. page 121.) Again, just before Rienzi's expulsion from the office of Tribune, Du Cerceau, translating in his headlong way the old biographer's account of the causes of Rienzi's loss of popularity, says, "He shut himself up in his palace, and his presence was known only by the rigorous punishments which he caused his agents to inflict upon the innocent." Not a word of this in the original!

Again, after the expulsion, Du Cerceau says, that the Barons seized upon the "immense riches" he had ama.s.sed,-the words in the original are, "grandi ornamenti," which are very different things from immense riches. But the most remarkable sins of commission are in this person's account of the second rise and fall of Rienzi under the t.i.tle of Senator. Of this I shall give but one instance:- "The Senator, who perceived it, became only the more cruel. His jealousies produced only fresh murders. In the continual dread he was in, that the general discontent would terminate in some secret attempt upon his person, he determined to intimidate the most enterprising, by sacrificing sometimes one, sometimes another, and chiefly those whose riches rendered them the more guilty in his eyes. Numbers were sent every day to the Capitol prison. Happy were those who could get off with the confiscation of their estates."

Of these grave charges there is not a syllable in the original! And so much for the work of Pere Cerceau and Pere Brumoy, by virtue of which, historians have written of the life and times of Rienzi, and upon the figments of which, the most remarkable man in an age crowded with great characters is judged by the general reader!

I must be pardoned for this criticism, which might not have been necessary, had not the work to which it relates, in the English translation quoted from, (a translation that has no faults but those of the French original,) been actually received as an historical and indisputable authority, and opposed with a triumphant air to some pa.s.sages in my own narrative which were literally taken from the authentic records of the time.