Arriving at Rome, the company of the Colonna found the gates barred, and
the walls manned. Stephen bade advance his trumpeters, with one of his
captains, imperiously to demand admittance.
“We have orders,” replied the chief of the town-guard, “to admit none
who bear arms, flags, or trumpets. Let the Lords Colonna dismiss their
train, and they are welcome.”
“Whose are these insolent mandates?” asked the captain.
“Those of the Lord Bishop of Orvietto and Cola di Rienzi, joint
protectors of the Buono Stato.” (Good Estate.)
The captain of the Colonna returned to his chief with these tidings. The
rage of Stephen was indescribable. “Go back,” he cried, as soon as
he could summon voice, “and say, that, if the gates are not forthwith
opened to me and mine, the blood of the plebeians be on their own head.
As for Raimond, Vicars of the Pope have high spiritual authority, none
temporal. Let him prescribe a fast, and he shall be obeyed; but, for
the rash Rienzi, say that Stephen Colonna will seek him in the Capitol
tomorrow, for the purpose of throwing him out of the highest window.”
These messages the envoy failed not to deliver.
The captain of the Romans was equally stern in his reply.
“Declare to your Lord,” said he, “that Rome holds him and his as rebels
and traitors; and that the moment you regain your troop, our archers
receive our command to draw their bows--in the name of the Pope, the
City, and the Liberator.”
This threat was executed to the letter; and ere the old Baron had time
to draw up his men in the best array, the gates were thrown open, and
a well-armed, if undisciplined, multitude poured forth, with fierce
shouts, clashing their arms, and advancing the azure banners of the
Roman State. So desperate their charge, and so great their numbers, that
the Barons, after a short and tumultuous conflict, were driven back,
and chased by their pursuers for more than a mile from the walls of the
city.
As soon as the Barons recovered their disorder and dismay, a hasty
council was held, at which various and contradictory opinions were
loudly urged. Some were for departing on the instant to Palestrina,
which belonged to the Colonna, and possessed an almost inaccessible
fortress. Others were for dispersing, and entering peaceably, and in
detached parties, through the other gates. Stephen Colonna--himself
incensed and disturbed from his usual self-command--was unable to
preserve his authority; Luca di Savelli, (The more correct orthography
were Luca di Savello, but the one in the text is preserved as more
familiar to the English reader.) a timid, though treacherous and subtle
man, already turned his horse’s head, and summoned his men to follow him
to his castle in Romagna, when the old Colonna bethought himself of a
method by which to keep his band from a disunion that he had the sense
to perceive would prove fatal to the common cause. He proposed that they
should at once repair to Palestrina, and there fortify themselves; while
one of the chiefs should be selected to enter Rome alone, and
apparently submissive, to examine the strength of Rienzi; and with the
discretionary power to resist if possible,--or to make the best terms he
could for the admission of the rest.
“And who,” asked Savelli, sneeringly, “will undertake this dangerous
mission? Who, unarmed and alone, will expose himself to the rage of the
fiercest populace of Italy, and the caprice of a demagogue in the first
flush of his power?”
The Barons and the Captains looked at each other in silence. Savelli
laughed.
Hitherto Adrian had taken no part in the conference, and but little in
the previous contest. He now came to the support of his kinsman.
“Signors!” said he, “I will undertake this mission,--but on mine own
account, independently of yours;--free to act as I may think best, for
the dignity of a Roman noble, and the interests of a Roman citizen; free
to raise my standard on mine own tower, or to yield fealty to the new
estate.”
“Well said!” cried the old Colonna, hastily. “Heaven forbid we should
enter Rome as foes, if to enter it as friends be yet allowed us! What
say ye, gentles?”
“A more worthy choice could not be selected,” said Savelli; “but I
should scarce deem it possible that a Colonna could think there was an
option between resistance and fealty to this upstart revolution.”
“Of that, Signor, I will judge for myself; if you demand an agent for
yourselves, choose another. I announce to ye frankly, that I have seen
enough of other states to think the recent condition of Rome demanded
some redress. Whether Rienzi and Raimond be worthy of the task they have
assumed, I know not.”
Savelli was silent. The old Colonna seized the word.
“To Palestrina, then!--are ye all agreed on this? At the worst, or at
the best, we should not be divided! On this condition alone I hazard the
safety of my kinsman!”
The Barons murmured a little among themselves;--the expediency of
Stephen’s proposition was evident, and they at length assented to it.
Adrian saw them depart, and then, attended only by his squire, slowly
rode towards a more distant entrance into the city. On arriving at the
gates, his name was demanded--he gave it freely.
“Enter, my Lord,” said the warder, “our orders were to admit all that
came unarmed and unattended. But to the Lord Adrian di Castello, alone,
we had a special injunction to give the honours due to a citizen and a
friend.”
Adrian, a little touched by this implied recollection of friendship, now
rode through a long line of armed citizens, who saluted him respectfully
as he passed, and, as he returned the salutation with courtesy, a loud
and approving shout followed his horse’s steps.
So, save by one attendant, alone, and in peace, the young patrician
proceeded leisurely through the long streets, empty and deserted,--for
nearly one half of the inhabitants were assembled at the walls, and
nearly the other half were engaged in a more peaceful duty,--until,
penetrating the interior, the wide and elevated space of the Capitol
broke upon his sight. The sun was slowly setting over an immense
multitude that overspread the spot, and high above a scaffold raised
in the centre, shone, to the western ray, the great Gonfalon of Rome,
studded with silver stars.
Adrian reined in his steed. “This,” thought he, “is scarcely the hour
thus publicly to confer with Rienzi; yet fain would I, mingled with the
crowd, judge how far his power is supported, and in what manner it is
borne.” Musing a little, he withdrew into one of the obscurer streets,
then wholly deserted, surrendered his horse to his squire, and,
borrowing of the latter his morion and long mantle, passed to one of
the more private entrances of the Capitol, and, enveloped in his cloak,
stood--one of the crowd--intent upon all that followed.
“And what,” he asked of a plainly dressed citizen, “is the cause of this
assembly?”
“Heard you not the proclamation?” returned the other in some surprise.
“Do you not know that the Council of the City and the Guilds of the
Artisans have passed a vote to proffer to Rienzi the title of king of
Rome?”
The Knight of the Emperor, to whom belonged that august dignity, drew
back in dismay.
“And,” resumed the citizen, “this assembly of all the lesser Barons,
Councillors, and Artificers, is convened to hear the answer.”
“Of course it will be assent?”
“I know not--there are strange rumours; hitherto the Liberator has
concealed his sentiments.”
At that instant a loud flourish of martial music announced the approach
of Rienzi. The crowd tumultuously divided, and presently, from the
Palace of the Capitol to the scaffold, passed Rienzi, still in complete
armour, save the helmet, and with him, in all the pomp of his episcopal
robes, Raimond of Orvietto.
As soon as Rienzi had ascended the platform, and was thus made visible
to the whole concourse, no words can suffice to paint the enthusiasm
of the scene--the shouts, the gestures, the tears, the sobs, the wild
laughter, in which the sympathy of those lively and susceptible children
of the South broke forth. The windows and balconies of the Palace were
thronged with the wives and daughters of the lesser Barons and more
opulent citizens; and Adrian, with a slight start, beheld amongst
them,--pale--agitated--tearful,--the lovely face of his Irene--a face
that even thus would have outshone all present, but for one by her side,
whose beauty the emotion of the hour only served to embellish. The dark,
large, and flashing eyes of Nina di Raselli, just bedewed, were fixed
proudly on the hero of her choice: and pride, even more than joy, gave a
richer carnation to her cheek, and the presence of a queen to her noble
and rounded form. The setting sun poured its full glory over the spot;
the bared heads--the animated faces of the crowd--the grey and vast mass
of the Capitol; and, not far from the side of Rienzi, it brought into
a strange and startling light the sculptured form of a colossal Lion of
Basalt, (The existent Capitol is very different from the building at
the time of Rienzi; and the reader must not suppose that the present
staircase, designed by Michael Angelo, at the base of which are two
marble lions, removed by Pius IV. from the Church of St. Stephen del
Cacco, was the staircase of the Lion of Basalt, which bears so stern a
connexion with the history of Rienzi. That mute witness of dark deeds is
no more.) which gave its name to a staircase leading to the Capitol.
It was an old Egyptian relic,--vast, worn, and grim; some symbol of a
vanished creed, to whose face the sculptor had imparted something of the
aspect of the human countenance. And this producing the effect
probably sought, gave at all times a mystic, preternatural, and fearful
expression to the stern features, and to that solemn and hushed repose,
which is so peculiarly the secret of Egyptian sculpture. The awe which
this colossal and frowning image was calculated to convey, was felt yet
more deeply by the vulgar, because “the Staircase of the Lion” was the
wonted place of the state executions, as of the state ceremonies.
And seldom did the stoutest citizen forget to cross himself, or feel
unchilled with a certain terror, whenever, passing by the place, he
caught, suddenly fixed upon him, the stony gaze and ominous grin of that
old monster from the cities of the Nile.
It was some minutes before the feelings of the assembly allowed
Rienzi to be heard. But when, at length, the last shout closed with a
simultaneous cry of “Long live Rienzi! Deliverer and King of Rome!” he
raised his hand impatiently, and the curiosity of the crowd procured a
sudden silence.
“Deliverer of Rome, my countrymen!” said he. “Yes! change not that
title--I am too ambitious to be a King! Preserve your obedience to your
Pontiff--your allegiance to your Emperor--but be faithful to your
own liberties. Ye have a right to your ancient constitution; but that
constitution needed not a king. Emulous of the name of Brutus, I am
above the titles of a Tarquin! Romans, awake! awake! be inspired with
a nobler love of liberty than that which, if it dethrones the tyrant of
today, would madly risk the danger of tyranny for tomorrow! Rome wants
still a liberator--never an usurper!--Take away yon bauble!”
There was a pause; the crowd were deeply affected--but they uttered no
shouts; they looked anxiously for a reply from their councillors, or
popular leaders.
“Signor,” said Pandulfo di Guido, who was one of the Caporioni, “your
answer is worthy of your fame. But, in order to enforce the law, Rome
must endow you with a legal title--if not that of King, deign to accept
that of Dictator or of Consul.”
“Long live the Consul Rienzi!” cried several voices.
Rienzi waved his hand for silence.
“Pandulfo di Guido! and you, honoured Councillors of Rome! such title is
at once too august for my merits, and too inapplicable to my functions.
I am one of the people--the people are my charge; the nobles can protect
themselves. Dictator and Consul are the appellations of patricians.
No,” he continued after a short pause, “if ye deem it necessary, for
the preservation of order, that your fellow-citizen should be intrusted
with a formal title and a recognised power, be it so: but let it be
such as may attest the nature of our new institutions, the wisdom of the
people, and the moderation of their leaders. Once, my countrymen, the
people elected, for the protectors of their rights and the guardians of
their freedom, certain officers responsible to the people,--chosen from
the people,--provident for the people. Their power was great, but it was
delegated: a dignity, but a trust. The name of these officers with that
of Tribune. Such is the title that conceded, not by clamour alone,
but in the full Parliament of the people, and accompanied by, such
Parliament, ruling with such Parliament,--such is the title I will
gratefully accept.”
(Gibbon and Sismondi alike, (neither of whom appears to have
consulted with much attention the original documents
preserved by Hocsemius,) say nothing of the Representative
Parliament, which it was almost Rienzi’s first public act to
institute or model. Six days from the memorable 19th of May,
he addressed the people of Viterbo in a letter yet extant.
He summons them to elect and send two syndics, or
ambassadors, to the general Parliament.)
The speech, the sentiments of Rienzi were rendered far more impressive
by a manner of earnest and deep sincerity; and some of the Romans,
despite their corruption, felt a momentary exultation in the forbearance
of their chief. “Long live the Tribune of Rome!” was shouted, but less
loud than the cry of “Live the King!” And the vulgar almost thought the
revolution was incomplete, because the loftier title was not assumed.
To a degenerate and embruted people, liberty seems too plain a thing, if
unadorned by the pomp of the very despotism they would dethrone. Revenge
is their desire, rather than Release; and the greater the new power they
create, the greater seems their revenge against the old. Still all that
was most respected, intelligent, and powerful amongst the assembly,
were delighted at a temperance which they foresaw would free Rome from
a thousand dangers, whether from the Emperor or the Pontiff. And their
delight was yet increased, when Rienzi added, so soon as returning
silence permitted--“And since we have been equal labourers in the same
cause, whatever honours be awarded to me, should be extended also to the
Vicar of the Pope, Raimond, Lord Bishop of Orvietto. Remember, that both
Church and State are properly the rulers of the people, only because
their benefactors.--Long live the first Vicar of a Pope that was ever
also the Liberator of a State!”
Whether or not Rienzi was only actuated by patriotism in his moderation,
certain it is, that his sagacity was at least equal to his virtue; and
perhaps nothing could have cemented the revolution more strongly, than
thus obtaining for a colleague the Vicar, and Representative of the
Pontifical power: it borrowed, for the time, the sanction of the Pope
himself--thus made to share the responsibility of the revolution,
without monopolising the power of the State.
While the crowd hailed the proposition of Rienzi; while their shouts
yet filled the air; while Raimond, somewhat taken by surprise, sought by
signs and gestures to convey at once his gratitude and his humility,
the Tribune-Elect, casting his eyes around, perceived many hitherto
attracted by curiosity, and whom, from their rank and weight, it
was desirable to secure in the first heat of the public enthusiasm.
Accordingly, as soon as Raimond had uttered a short and pompous
harangue,--in which his eager acceptance of the honour proposed him was
ludicrously contrasted by his embarrassed desire not to involve himself
or the Pope in any untoward consequences that might ensue,--Rienzi
motioned to two heralds that stood behind upon the platform, and one of
these advancing, proclaimed--“That as it was desirable that all hitherto
neuter should now profess themselves friends or foes, so they were
invited to take at once the oath of obedience to the laws, and
subscription to the Buono Stato.”
So great was the popular fervour, and so much had it been refined and
deepened in its tone by the addresses of Rienzi, that even the most
indifferent had caught the contagion: and no man liked to be seen
shrinking from the rest: so that the most neutral, knowing themselves
the most marked, were the most entrapped into allegiance to the Buono
Stato. The first who advanced to the platform and took the oath was the
Signor di Raselli, the father of Nina.--Others of the lesser nobility
followed his example.
The presence of the Pope’s Vicar induced the aristocratic; the fear
of the people urged the selfish; the encouragement of shouts and
gratulations excited the vain. The space between Adrian and Rienzi was
made clear. The young noble suddenly felt the eyes of the Tribune were
upon him; he felt that those eyes recognised and called upon him--he
coloured--he breathed short. The noble forbearance of Rienzi had touched
him to the heart;--the applause--the pageant--the enthusiasm of the
scene, intoxicated--confused him.--He lifted his eyes and saw before
him the sister of the Tribune--the lady of his love! His indecision--his
pause--continued, when Raimond, observing him, and obedient to a
whisper from Rienzi, artfully cried aloud--“Room for the Lord Adrian di
Castello! a Colonna! a Colonna!” Retreat was cut off. Mechanically, and
as if in a dream, Adrian ascended to the platform: and to complete the
triumph of the Tribune, the sun’s last ray beheld the flower of the
Colonna--the best and bravest of the Barons of Rome--confessing his
authority, and subscribing to his laws!