University of Virginia Library

Scene I.

—Hall of Audience in the Capitol. A throne and chairs of State.
Enter Cecco del Vecchio and Citizens.
1st Cit.

But two months in office, and such good
changes in Rome! This den of thieves is grown as
orderly as a convent or a camp.

Cecco.

Ay, since Martino di Porto was hanged for
a common robber. Never was such good justice
done in Rome.

2nd Cit.

The very fishwives have ceased to brawl,
and the meat-sellers to lie. False weights are become
rarities for the cabinets of the curious.

Cecco.

Since God gave the law to Moses, there has
been no such man.

1st Cit.

He's as haughty to the Barons as a born
Emperor, yet a plain citizen with the citizens.

3rd Cit.

A Venetian of their embassy told me that
the Soldan of Babylon had heard of his fame.

Cecco.

Is it possible?

3rd Cit.

Most certain. But have you heard that
old Colonna comes in to-day, to make submission?

4th Cit.

Ay, he's the last of the lot—and the best.

2nd Cit.

He has not kept his vow that he would
pitch Rienzi out of the window of the Capitol.

Cecco.

Bah! He fled from the ding-dong of La
Paterina, like a pigeon at the whizz of a bird-bolt.

3rd Cit.

He found the Tribune in Rome a nettle
too stiff to maul like Pope Boniface at Agnani. Hey!
Here come the nobles to wait on the master, as tame
as hounds at the crack of the huntsman's whip.

Cecco.

Stefanuccio too!

Enter on one side Stefano and Gianni Colonna and party; on the other, Giordano Orsino, Frangipani, Savello, and party. They salute each other.
5th Cit.

What! can these game-cocks meet without
sparring? The Millennium must be near.

3rd Cit.

Fear makes strange friends. The Tribune
is a fire before which the fiercest beasts quail and herd
together.

[Cecco and Cits. draw aside as the Nobles advance.
Giord. O.
My Lord Colonna comes to take the oath,
At last.

Stef. C.
My lord, I do—on your example.
'Tis bend or break. I duck my head with the rest,
And bide the passing of this summer storm.

Giord. O.
Will it pass, think you? It whistles shrewdly still.

Stef. C.
'Twill pass. How long will Roman weathercocks
Point all one way?

Giord. O.
Then let us blow the other,
For once together, in this upstart's face.

Stef. C.
Faith, I lack breath just now, thro' sheer surprise.

Giord. O.
You nursed this tiger; but, one word, my lord.

[They converse apart.
Frang.

This submission of old Colonna makes the
Tribune stronger than ever.

Sav.

His sharp-edged virtue will cut his own throat
yet. But we must bide our time. His popularity
is now in full blossom; he points his finger, and
the timber and stones fly from our castles to fortify
the Capitol.

Frang.

Twenty thousand armed volunteers, ready
to swarm like bees at the first tang of his big bell?

Sav.

They can buzz loud enough; but a volunteer
is an unbroken colt—bears you to-day, and kicks you
off to-morrow. (Flourish of trumpets, and shouting heard.)

His trumpets!

Shouts without.

Long live the Tribune!

Giord. O.
'Tis but the mob, who grime themselves with dust,
Wrestling among the horses' heels, for coin,
Flung to them when the Tribune keeps his state.

Stef. C.
Ha! he gives largesse like an Emperor?

Giord. O.
His insolence swells so high.

Stef. C.
His cap and bells
The varlet jingles still. Smile we, and wait.

Enter Rienzi, robed in crimson and ermine, with his Tribune's sceptre in his hand, and attended by the Bishop of Orvieto, Pandolfo di Guido, Cola Orsino, six Secretaries, Notary Public, Guards, and Citizens. Also Francesca, her train borne by six Pages, and attended by noble Ladies, who fan her as she walks.
Rien.
(to Secs.).
Now, gentlemen, your drafts—I'll look them o'er
Even as I sit.
[Secretaries bow, and proceed to arrange papers at a table.
Approach, Signor Colonna!

Stef. C.
Signor?

Rien.
Ay, sir. We have but one Lord on earth,
His Holiness the Pope, and dare extend
That title no whit further than appears
His delegated power. Stefano Colonna,
We have summoned you three times to take the oath.

Stef. C.
Well, Tribune, here I am, to take the oath.

Rien.
You are wise. We have been patient, for the sake
Of your grey hairs and venerable name;
But, by the mass! you are wise no longer so
To dally with your danger. Notary, give him
A schedule of our laws. Sir, you shall take
The oath anon.

Stef. C.
Content.

Rien.
We have been at pains,
During your country stay, to rid your house
Of certain vermin that do much infest
Our old seignorial mansions—we have hung
Your brigands.

Stef. C.
Brigands?

Rien.
Ay, such parasites
Cling much to nobles. You stir not, understand,
From Rome, save at our pleasure. You shall take
The oath anon; meanwhile peruse the law.
[He takes his seat, the Nobles standing in his presence.
(To Secs.)
Your drafts.
[They hand him papers, which he looks over, signing some.
This letter to his Holiness
Touching the Emperor—let that stand over;
And this, to Lewis of Hungary, on his prayer
For our prompt arbitration in his plea
Against the murderers of his brother. (Gives back letters.)
This,
Of thanks to Petrarch for his golden words
Of love and cordial praise, is coldly writ,
Heavily phrased—Livy or Tacitus,
Not Tully. Praise, sir, from our laurelled bard
Crowns us with laurels of immortal leaf,
And should be answered in as sweet a strain
As Orpheus wooed in. (Gives back letter.)
More?

Sec.
No more, my lord.

Rien.
Then turn we now to business of the State.
Stefano Colonna!

Stef. C.
Here!

Rien.
We summon you
To take the oath. Humble your knees, and make
Submission to the State. (To Bishop of O.)
My lord, administer
The oath in form and all solemnity.

[Stef. Colonna delivers his sword to Rienzi, then kneels to the Bishop.
Bp. of O.
Stefano Colonna, on your knees you swear
Allegiance to the Commonwealth of Rome;
To keep its laws in peace, and with your life
Guard it in time of war; further you swear
Obedience to the Tribunes; and all this
You swear upon the gospels, and invoke,
If you swear false, perdition on your soul.

Stef. C.
All this I swear!

Rien.
Receive your sword again.
We will employ you for the public good,
As we shall find you apt and well-inclined.
[Stef. Colonna bows and retires.
Thus shall the toppling ruins of old Rome,
New-wrought, be new Rome's pillars. One alone
Of all our summoned vassals still defies us—
Gianni di Vico, Tyrant of Viterbo,
Prefect of Rome. His term of grace is past,
And we degrade him from his Prefecture,
And will advance our banners till his walls
Quake at our stern array. We credit you,
Cola Orsino, of Sant' Angelo,
Our captain in this war.

Cola O.
I thank you, Tribune.
I'll be the embodied terror of your name
Marching the earth.

Rien.
If he forthwith surrender,
Bring him your prisoner, but in gentle guise;
If not, attack with every art of siege,
Destroy his forts, and bring him here in chains.
Take your commission (hands document)
, and farewell!

Cola O.
Farewell,
Most noble Tribune! I will be your sword.

[Exit.
Rien.
Admit the Ambassadors.

Enter Ambassadors from Prince Lewis of Taranto, the Doge of Venice, the Seignory of Florence, the Marquis of Ferrara, the Tyrant of Milan, and the Lords of Verona and Mantua, attended; their banners borne before them.
Rien.
Welcome, illustrious friends!

1st Ambass.
Prince Lewis of Taranto, noble Tribune,
Greets you with love; and for his much-wronged cousin,
Giovanna, Queen of Naples—foully charged
Before your throne with murder of her lord,
Andrew of Hungary—craves your gracious aid.
Hungarian Lewis and his barbarous horde,
Tainting the air with slander, waste our fields;
Till, like the Jewish patriot, our vext Prince
Turns Romeward—as 'tis written: Misit viros
Cum eis revocare amicitiam.

Rien.
My Lord Archbishop, it is further writ:
Procul a nobis sint arma et gladius,
Terra marique sit pax.

1st Ambass.
Oh, my lord!
Your wit leaps out like lightning, and astounds
More than the thunder. You cap me in a breath
Out of one page!

Rien.
Nay, marvel not, my lord;
I have read Maccabees. Help but to piece
The silver weft shot thro' the blood-red warp
Of this perplexèd case, and we, with joy,
Will clothe your Queen with robes of innocence.
Meanwhile we test each strand, and watch the web.
Sit, gentlemen. From Venice, sirs, I think?

2nd Ambass.
Andrea Dandolo, our worthy Doge,
Greets you, most noble Tribune, and desires
Your friendship and alliance.

Rien.
Neptune's self,
Taming to draw his car the boisterous powers
That snort in the thundering surge; or, with a stroke
Of his stern trident, making bastioned walls
Yawn into sudden ruin, could not be
A more magnificent ally. We grasp
His aged hand, that with its osprey's gripe
Wrinkles on its sea-prey. Come you from Florence?

3rd Ambass.
The Seignory of Florence asks, my lord,
To be admitted to the League which owns
Rome for its head. Where shines her Tribune's face,
Prosperity and peace, twin flowers of spring,
Break from the wintry world, and warn old Time
To turn for happier hours his tardy glass.

Rien.
We thank your Seignory for their good will,
And swelling terms of honour. For the League,
You are possessed of its conditions: all
Whom faction, vampire of our country's blood,
Has driven to waste in exile, shall return
As living citizens. Does that content you?

3rd Ambass.
It does, my lord.

Rien.
Then you are greatly welcome;
For your content is as a precious seed
From which all Italy shall reap content.

4th Ambass.
Obizzo d'Este, Marquis of Ferrara,
Sends gentle greeting to the Tribune.

Rien.
Ha!
Whence come you, gentlemen?

5th Ambass.
Lucchin' Visconti,
The Tyrant of Milan, sends—

Rien.
Good; and you?

6th Ambass.
Mastino della Scala, Lord of Verona,
Greets you, great Tribune.

Rien.
He does well. The last?

7th Ambass.
Filippo da Gonzaga, Lord of Mantua,
Sends his felicitations to the Tribune.

Rien.
These eagles, then, yield homage to the wren.
Your masters' mocks are changed to reverent greetings,
And sweet felicitations. It is best
For their own peace. Join you the League with Rome?

4th, 5th, 6th, 7th Ambass.
My lord, we do.

Rien.
'Tis very well. We crave
Your patience while our Heralds make report;
Then ye shall grace our banquet. Now, the Heralds
Enter Heralds of Peace.
Speak one for all. What welcome have ye found,
Bearing, like doves, our olive thro' the land?

Herald of Peace.
Your name, my lord, strides like a Hercules.
About the world, achieving prodigies.
Thro' all the worst-famed nooks of Italy
Bandits are ghosts, and deeds of blood but legends.
To Avignon, armed only with this rod,
I bore your letters. The Annunciant Angel,
Holding the heavenly lily, could not win
More reverence than I found. Rejoicing crowds
Knelt in the gates, the streets, the dusty highways,
As to the Host; the great ones of each town
Met me with music; gay-clad village maids
Welcomed my feet with flowers; grey-bearded men
Wept as they kissed my hand; and fair young mothers
Held high their babes to see me as I passed.
From every hearth in the glad land rise up,
More constantly than kindly household smoke,
Prayers for the Tribune's health.

Rien.
Thanks for your tale.
This is good news indeed. My secretaries
Will fill your trusty wallets with new salves
To make our country whole. Once more, God-speed!

[Secretaries give letters. Exeunt Heralds of Peace.
1st Ambass.
These sing like morning stars. Methinks the Tribune
May gaze upon his new-created world,
And, without boasting, say, 'Tis very good.

Rien.
Be God's the glory! What is done but preludes
The more that is to do. The League shall meet
In solemn synod in this Capitol,
To make the fragile clay that shapes my dream
Immortal marble. Gentlemen, your welcome
Shall at the banquet be more fitly spoke
Than graver hours would stay for. Will you grace me?

[Exeunt.