The acuter reader has already learned, without the absolute intervention
of the author as narrator, the incidents occurring to Rienzi in the
interval between his acquittal at Avignon and his return to Rome. As the
impression made by Nina upon the softer and better nature of Albornoz
died away, he naturally began to consider his guest--as the profound
politicians of that day ever considered men--a piece upon the great
Chess-Board, to be moved, advanced, or sacrificed, as best suited
the scheme in view. His purpose accomplished, in the recovery of the
patrimonial territory, the submission of John di Vico, and the fall
and death of the Demagogue Baroncelli, the Cardinal deemed it far from
advisable to restore to Rome, and with so high a dignity, the able and
ambitious Rienzi. Before the daring Roman, even his own great spirit
quailed; and he was wholly unable to conceive or to calculate the policy
that might be adopted by the new Senator, when once more Lord of
Rome. Without affecting to detain, he therefore declined to assist in
restoring him. And Rienzi thus saw himself within an easy march of Rome,
without one soldier to protect him against the Barons by the way.
But Heaven had decreed that no single man, however gifted, or however
powerful, should long counteract or master the destinies of Rienzi: and
perhaps in no more glittering scene of his life did he ever evince so
dexterous and subtle an intellect as he now did in extricating himself
from the wiles of the Cardinal. Repairing to Perugia, he had, as we have
seen, procured, through the brothers of Montreal, men and money for his
return. But the Knight of St. John was greatly mistaken, if he imagined
that Rienzi was not thoroughly aware of the perilous and treacherous
tenure of the support he had received. His keen eye read at a glance the
aims and the characters of the brothers of Montreal--he knew that while
affecting to serve him, they designed to control--that, made the debtor
of the grasping and aspiring Montreal, and surrounded by the troops
conducted by Montreal’s brethren, he was in the midst of a net which, if
not broken, would soon involve fortune and life itself in its fatal and
deadly meshes. But, confident in the resources and promptitude of his
own genius, he yet sanguinely trusted to make those his puppets, who
dreamed that he was their own; and, with empire for the stake, he cared
not how crafty the antagonists he was compelled to engage.
Meanwhile, uniting to all his rasher and all his nobler qualities, a
profound dissimulation, he appeared to trust implicitly to his Provencal
companions; and his first act on entering the Capitol, after the
triumphal procession, was to reward with the highest dignities in his
gift, Messere Arimbaldo and Messere Brettone de Montreal!
High feasting was there that night in the halls of the Capitol; but
dearer to Rienzi than all the pomp of the day, were the smiles of Nina.
Her proud and admiring eyes, swimming with delicious tears, fixed upon
his countenance, she but felt that they were re-united, and that the
hours, however brilliantly illumined, were hastening to that moment,
when, after so desolate and dark an absence, they might once more be
alone.
Far other the thoughts of Adrian Colonna, as he sate alone in the dreary
palace in the yet more dreary quarter of his haughty race. Irene then
was alive,--he had been deceived by some strange error,--she had escaped
the devouring pestilence; and something in the pale sadness of her
gentle features, even in that day of triumph, told him he was still
remembered. But as his mind by degrees calmed itself from its first wild
and tumultuous rapture, he could not help asking himself the question
whether they were not still to be divided! Stefanello Colonna, the
grandson of the old Stephen, and (by the death of his sire and brother)
the youthful head of that powerful House, had already raised his
standard against the Senator. Fortifying himself in the almost
impregnable fastness of Palestrina, he had assembled around him all
the retainers of his family, and his lawless soldiery now ravaged the
neighbouring plains far and wide.
Adrian foresaw that the lapse of a few days would suffice to bring the
Colonna and the Senator to open war. Could he take part against those
of his own blood? The very circumstance of his love for Irene would
yet more rob such a proceeding of all appearance of disinterested
patriotism, and yet more deeply and irremediably stain his knightly
fame, wherever the sympathy of his equals was enlisted with the cause
of the Colonna. On the other hand, not only his love for the Senator’s
sister, but his own secret inclinations and honest convictions, were on
the side of one who alone seemed to him possessed of the desire and the
genius to repress the disorders of his fallen city. Long meditating, he
feared no alternative was left him but in the same cruel neutrality to
which he had been before condemned; but he resolved at least to make
the attempt--rendered favourable and dignified by his birth and
reputation--to reconcile the contending parties. To effect this, he saw
that he must begin with his haughty cousin. He was well aware that were
it known that he had first obtained an interview with Rienzi--did it
appear as if he were charged with overtures from the Senator--although
Stefanello himself might be inclined to yield to his representations,
the insolent and ferocious Barons who surrounded him would not deign
to listen to the envoy of the People’s chosen one; and instead of being
honoured as an intercessor, he should be suspected as a traitor. He
determined, then, to depart for Palestrina; but (and his heart beat
audibly) would it not be possible first to obtain an interview with
Irene? It was no easy enterprise, surrounded as she was, but he resolved
to adventure it. He summoned Giulio.
“The Senator holds a festival this evening--think you that the
assemblage will be numerous?”
“I hear,” answered Giulio, “that the banquet given to the Ambassadors
and Signors today is to be followed tomorrow by a mask, to which all
ranks are admitted. By Bacchus, (Still a common Roman expletive.) if the
Tribune only invited nobles, the smallest closet in the Capitol would
suffice to receive his maskers. I suppose a mask has been resolved on in
order to disguise the quality of the visitors.”
Adrian mused a moment; and the result of his revery was a determination
to delay for another sun his departure to Palestrina--to take advantage
of the nature of the revel, and to join the masquerade.
That species of entertainment, though unusual at that season of the
year, had been preferred by Rienzi, partly and ostensibly because it
was one in which all his numerous and motley supporters could be best
received; but chiefly and secretly because it afforded himself and his
confidential friends the occasion to mix unsuspected amongst the throng,
and learn more of the real anticipations of the Romans with respect
to his policy and his strength, than could well be gathered from the
enthusiasm of a public spectacle.
The following night was beautifully serene and clear. The better to
accommodate the numerous guests, and to take advantage of the warm and
moonlit freshness of the air, the open court of the Capitol, with the
Place of the Lion, (as well as the state apartments within,) was devoted
to the festival.
As Adrian entered the festive court with the rush of the throng, it
chanced that in the eager impatience of some maskers, more vehement
than the rest, his vizard was deranged. He hastily replaced it; but not
before one of the guests had recognised his countenance.
From courtesy, Rienzi and his family remained at first unmasked. They
stood at the head of the stairs to which the old Egyptian Lion gave the
name. The lights shone over that Colossal Monument--which, torn from its
antique home, had witnessed, in its grim repose, the rise and lapse of
countless generations, and the dark and stormy revolutions of avenging
fate. It was an ill omen, often afterwards remarked, that the place of
that state festival was the place also of the state executions. But at
that moment, as group after group pressed forward to win smile and word
from the celebrated man, whose fortunes had been the theme of Europe,
or to bend in homage to the lustrous loveliness of Nina, no omen and no
warning clouded the universal gladness.
Behind Nina, well contented to shrink from the gaze of the throng, and
to feel her softer beauty eclipsed by the dazzling and gorgeous charms
of her brother’s wife, stood Irene. Amidst the crowd on her alone Adrian
fixed his eyes. The years which had flown over the fair brow of the
girl of sixteen--then animated by, yet trembling beneath, the first wild
breath of Love;--youth in every vein--passion and childish tenderness
in every thought, had not marred, but they had changed, the character
of Irene’s beauty. Her cheek, no longer varying with every instant, was
settled into a delicate and thoughtful paleness--her form, more rounded
to the proportions of Roman beauty, had assumed an air of dignified and
calm repose. No longer did the restless eye wander in search of some
imagined object; no longer did the lip quiver into smiles at some untold
hope or half-unconscious recollection. A grave and mournful expression
gave to her face (still how sweet!) a gravity beyond her years. The
bloom, the flush, the April of the heart, was gone; but yet neither
time, nor sorrow, nor blighted love, had stolen from her countenance its
rare and angelic softness--nor that inexpressible and virgin modesty of
form and aspect, which, contrasting the bolder beauties of Italy, had
more than aught else distinguished to Adrian, from all other women, the
idol of his heart. And feeding his gaze upon those dark deep eyes, which
spoke of thought far away and busy with the past, Adrian felt again and
again that he was not forgotten! Hovering near her, but suffering the
crowd to press one after another before him, he did not perceive that he
had attracted the eagle eye of the Senator.
In fact, as one of the maskers passed Rienzi, he whispered, “Beware,
a Colonna is among the masks! beneath the reveller’s domino has often
lurked the assassin’s dagger. Yonder stands your foe--mark him!”
These words were the first sharp and thrilling intimation of the perils
into which he had rushed, that the Tribune-Senator had received since
his return. He changed colour slightly; and for some minutes the courtly
smile and ready greeting with which he had hitherto delighted every
guest, gave way to a moody abstraction.
“Why stands yon strange man so mute and motionless?” whispered he to
Nina. “He speaks to none--he approaches us not--a churl, a churl!--he
must be seen to.”
“Doubtless, some German or English barbarian,” answered Nina. “Let not,
my Lord, so slight a cloud dim your merriment.”
“You are right, dearest; we have friends here; we are well girt. And, by
my father’s ashes, I feel that I must accustom myself to danger. Nina,
let us move on; methinks we might now mix among the maskers--masked
ourselves.”
The music played loud and cheerily as the Senator and his party mingled
with the throng. But still his eye turned ever towards the grey domino
of Adrian, and he perceived that it followed his steps. Approaching the
private entrance of the Capitol, he for a few moments lost sight of
his unwelcome pursuer: but just as he entered, turning abruptly, Rienzi
perceived him close at his side--the next moment the stranger had
vanished amidst the throng. But that moment had sufficed to Adrian--he
had reached Irene. “Adrian Colonna (he whispered) waits thee beside the
Lion.”
In the absorption of his own reflections, Rienzi fortunately did not
notice the sudden paleness and agitation of his sister. Entered within
his palace, he called for wine--the draught revived his spirits--he
listened smilingly to the sparkling remarks of Nina; and enduing
his mask and disguise, said, with his wonted cheerfulness, “Now for
Truth--strange that in festivals it should only speak behind a vizard!
My sweet sister, thou hast lost thine old smile, and I would rather see
that than--Ha! has Irene vanished?”
“Only, I suppose, to change her dress, my Cola, and mingle with the
revellers,” answered Nina. “Let my smile atone for hers.”
Rienzi kissed the bright brow of his wife as she clung fondly to his
bosom. “Thy smile is the sunlight,” said he; “but this girl disturbs me.
Methinks now, at least, she might wear a gladder aspect.”
“Is there nothing of love beneath my fair sister’s gloom?” answered
Nina. “Do you not call to mind how she loved Adrian Colonna?”
“Does that fantasy hold still?” returned Rienzi, musingly. “Well, and
she is fit bride for a monarch.”
“Yet it were an alliance that would, better than one with monarchs,
strengthen thy power at Rome!”
“Ay, were it possible; but that haughty race!--Perchance this very
masker that so haunted our steps was but her lover. I will look to this.
Let us forth, my Nina. Am I well cloaked?”
“Excellently well--and I?”
“The sun behind a cloud.”
“Ah, let us not tarry long; what hour of revel like that when thy hand
in mine, this head upon thy bosom, we forget the sorrows we have known,
and even the triumphs we have shared?”
Meanwhile, Irene, confused and lost amidst a transport of emotion,
already disguised and masked, was threading her way through the crowd
back to the staircase of the Lion. With the absence of the Senator that
spot had comparatively been deserted. Music and the dance attracted the
maskers to another quarter of the wide space. And Irene now approaching,
beheld the moonlight fall over the statue, and a solitary figure leaning
against the pedestal. She paused, the figure approached, and again she
heard the voice of her early love.
“Oh, Irene! recognised even in this disguise,” said Adrian, seizing her
trembling hand; “have I lived to gaze again upon that form--to touch
this hand? Did not these eyes behold thee lifeless in that fearful
vault, which I shudder to recall? By what miracle wert thou raised
again? By what means did Heaven spare to this earth one that it seemed
already to have placed amongst its angels?”
“Was this, indeed, thy belief?” said Irene, falteringly, but with an
accent eloquent of joy. “Thou didst not then willingly desert me? Unjust
that I was, I wronged thy noble nature, and deemed that my brother’s
fall, my humble lineage, thy brilliant fate, had made thee renounce
Irene.”
“Unjust indeed!” answered the lover. “But surely I saw thee amongst the
dead!--thy cloak, with the silver stars--who else wore the arms of the
Roman Tribune?”
“Was it but the cloak then, which, dropped in the streets, was probably
assumed by some more ill-fated victim; was it that sight alone, that
made thee so soon despair? Ah! Adrian,” continued Irene, tenderly, but
with reproach; “not even when I saw thee seemingly lifeless on the
couch by which I had watched three days and nights, not even then did I
despair!”
“What, then, my vision did not deceive me! It was you who watched by my
bed in that grim hour, whose love guarded, whose care preserved me! And
I, wretch that I was!--”
“Nay,” answered Irene, “your thought was natural. Heaven seemed to endow
me with superhuman strength, whilst I was necessary to thee. But judge
of my dismay. I left thee to seek the good friar who attended thee as
thy leech; I returned, and found thee not. Heart-sick and terrified, I
searched the desolate city in vain. Strong as I was while hope supported
me, I sunk beneath fear.--And my brother found me senseless, and
stretched on the ground, by the church of St. Mark.”
“The church of St. Mark!--so foretold his dream!”
“He had told me he had met thee; we searched for thee in vain; at length
we heard that thou hadst left the city, and--and--I rejoiced, Adrian,
but I repined!”
For some minutes the young lovers surrendered themselves to the delight
of reunion, while new explanations called forth new transports.
“And now,” murmured Irene, “now that we have met--” she paused, and her
mask concealed her blushes.
“Now that we have met,” said Adrian, filling up the silence, “wouldst
thou say further, ‘that we should not part?’ Trust me, dearest, that is
the hope that animates my heart. It was but to enjoy these brief bright
moments with thee, that I delayed my departure to Palestrina. Could
I but hope to bring my young cousin into amity with thy brother, no
barrier would prevent our union. Willingly I forget the past--the death
of my unhappy kinsmen, (victims, it is true, to their own faults;)
and, perhaps, amidst all the crowds that hailed his return, none more
appreciated the great and lofty qualities of Cola di Rienzi, than did
Adrian Colonna.”
“If this be so,” said Irene, “let me hope the best; meanwhile, it is
enough of comfort and of happiness to know, that we love each other as
of old. Ah, Adrian, I am sadly changed; and often have I thought it
a thing beyond my dreams, that thou shouldst see me again and love me
still.”
“Fairer art thou and lovelier than ever,” answered Adrian, passionately;
“and time, which has ripened thy bloom, has but taught me more deeply to
feel thy value. Farewell, Irene, I linger here no longer; thou wilt, I
trust, hear soon of my success with my House, and ere the week be over I
may return to claim thy hand in the face of day.”
The lovers parted; Adrian lingered on the spot, and Irene hastened to
bury her emotion and her raptures in her own chamber.
As her form vanished, and the young Colonna slowly turned away, a tall
mask strode abruptly towards him.
“Thou art a Colonna,” it said, “and in the power of the Senator. Dost
thou tremble?”
“If I be a Colonna, rude masker,” answered Adrian, coldly, “thou
shouldst know the old proverb, ‘He who stirs the column, shall rue the
fall.’”
The stranger laughed aloud, and then lifting his mask, Adrian saw that
it was the Senator who stood before him.
“My Lord Adrian di Castello,” said Rienzi, resuming all his gravity, “is
it as friend or foe that you have honoured our revels this night?”
“Senator of Rome,” answered Adrian, with equal stateliness, “I partake
of no man’s hospitality but as a friend. A foe, at least to you, I trust
never justly to be esteemed.”
“I would,” rejoined Rienzi, “that I could apply to myself unreservedly
that most flattering speech. Are these friendly feelings entertained
towards me as the Governor of the Roman people, or as the brother of the
woman who has listened to your vows?”
Adrian, who when the Senator had unmasked had followed his example,
felt at these words that his eye quailed beneath Rienzi’s. However, he
recovered himself with the wonted readiness of an Italian, and replied
laconically,
“As both.”
“Both!” echoed Rienzi. “Then, indeed, noble Adrian, you are welcome
hither. And yet, methinks, if you conceived there was no cause for
enmity between us, you would have wooed the sister of Cola di Rienzi
in a guise more worthy of your birth; and, permit me to add, of that
station which God, destiny, and my country, have accorded unto me. You
dare not, young Colonna, meditate dishonour to the sister of the Senator
of Rome. Highborn as you are, she is your equal.”
“Were I the Emperor, whose simple knight I but am, your sister were my
equal,” answered Adrian, warmly. “Rienzi, I grieve that I am discovered
to you yet. I had trusted that, as a mediator between the Barons and
yourself, I might first have won your confidence, and then claimed my
reward. Know that with tomorrow’s dawn I depart for Palestrina, seeking
to reconcile my young cousin to the choice of the People and the
Pontiff. Various reasons, which I need not now detail, would have
made me wish to undertake this heraldry of peace without previous
communication with you. But since we have met, intrust me with any
terms of conciliation, and I pledge you the right hand, not of a Roman
noble--alas! the prisca fides has departed from that pledge!--but of a
Knight of the Imperial Court, that I will not betray your confidence.”
Rienzi, accustomed to read the human countenance, had kept his eyes
intently fixed upon Adrian while he spoke; when the Colonna concluded,
he pressed the proffered hand, and said, with that familiar and winning
sweetness which at times was so peculiar to his manner,
“I trust you, Adrian, from my soul. You were mine early friend in
calmer, perchance happier, years. And never did river reflect the stars
more clearly, than your heart then mirrored back the truth. I trust
you!”
While thus speaking, he had mechanically led back the Colonna to the
statue of the Lion; there pausing, he resumed:
“Know that I have this morning despatched my delegate to your cousin
Stefanello. With all due courtesy, I have apprised him of my return to
Rome, and invited hither his honoured presence. Forgetting all ancient
feuds, mine own past exile, I have assured him, here, the station and
dignity due to the head of the Colonna. All that I ask in return is
obedience to the law. Years and reverses have abated my younger pride,
and though I may yet preserve the sternness of the Judge, none shall
hereafter complain of the insolence of the Tribune.”
“I would,” answered Adrian, “that your mission to Stefanello had been
delayed a day; I would fain have forestalled its purport. Howbeit, you
increase my desire of departure, should I yet succeed in obtaining an
honourable and peaceful reconciliation, it is not in disguise that I
will woo your sister.”
“And never did Colonna,” replied Rienzi, loftily, “bring to his House
a maiden whose alliance more gratified ambition. I still see, as I have
seen ever, in mine own projects, and mine own destinies, the chart of
the new Roman Empire!”
“Be not too sanguine yet, brave Rienzi,” replied Adrian, laying his hand
on the Lion of Basalt: “bethink thee on how many scheming brains this
dumb image of stone hath looked down from its pedestal--schemes of sand,
and schemers of dust. Thou hast enough, at present, for the employ of
all thine energy--not to extend thy power, but to preserve thyself. For,
trust me, never stood human greatness on so wild and dark a precipice!”
“Thou art honest,” said the Senator; “and these are the first words of
doubt, and yet of sympathy, I have heard in Rome. But the People love
me, the Barons have fled from Rome, the Pontiff approves, and the swords
of the Northmen guard the avenues of the Capitol. But these are nought;
in mine own honesty are my spear and buckler. Oh, never,” continued
Rienzi, kindling with his enthusiasm, “never since the days of the old
Republic, did Roman dream a purer and a brighter aspiration, than
that which animates and supports me now. Peace restored--law
established--art, letters, intellect, dawning upon the night of time;
the Patricians, no longer bandits of rapine, but the guard of order;
the People ennobled from a mob, brave to protect, enlightened to guide,
themselves. Then, not by the violence of arms, but by the majesty of
her moral power, shall the Mother of Nations claim the obedience of her
children. Thus dreaming and thus hoping, shall I tremble or despond? No,
Adrian Colonna, come weal or woe, I abide, unshrinking and unawed, by
the chances of my doom!”
So much did the manner and the tone of the Senator exalt his language,
that even the sober sense of Adrian was enchanted and subdued. He kissed
the hand he held, and said earnestly,
“A doom that I will deem it my boast to share--a career that it will be
my glory to smooth. If I succeed in my present mission--”
“You are my brother!” said Rienzi.
“If I fail?”
“You may equally claim that alliance. You pause--you change colour.”
“Can I desert my house?”
“Young Lord,” said Rienzi, loftily, “say rather can you desert your
country? If you doubt my honesty, if you fear my ambition, desist from
your task, rob me not of a single foe. But if you believe that I have
the will and the power to serve the State--if you recognise, even in the
reverses and calamities I have known and mastered, the protecting hand
of the Saviour of Nations--if those reverses were but the mercies of Him
who chasteneth--necessary, it may be, to correct my earlier daring and
sharpen yet more my intellect--if, in a word, thou believest me one
whom, whatever be his faults, God hath preserved for the sake of Rome,
forget that you are a Colonna--remember only that you are a Roman!”
“You have conquered me, strange and commanding spirit,” said Adrian, in
a low voice, completely carried away; “and whatever the conduct of my
kindred, I am yours and Rome’s. Farewell.”