University of Virginia Library

SCENE I.

RIENZI'S OWN APARTMENT IN THE CAPITOL. Rienzi, Friar Anselmo, and poor Neapolitans.
Rienzi.
Who creeps there yonder with his fingers folded?
Hither; what wantest thou? who art thou, man?

Anselmo.
The humblest of the humble, your Anselmo.

Rienzi.
Mine?

Anselmo.
In all duty.

Rienzi.
Whence art thou?

Anselmo.
From Naples.

Rienzi.
What askest thou?

Anselmo.
In the most holy names
Of Saint Euphemia and Saint Cunigund!
And in behalf of these poor creatures ask I
Justice and mercy.

Rienzi.
On what count?

Anselmo.
On life.

Rienzi.
Who threatens it in Rome?

Anselmo.
In Rome none dare
Under the guardianship of your tribunal.
But Naples is abandoned to her fate
By those who ruled her. Those, alas! who ruled her
Heaven has abandoned. Crimes, outrageous crimes,
Have swept them from their people. We alone
In poverty are left for the protection
Of the more starving populace. O hear,
Merciful Tribune! hear their cries for bread!

[All cry out.
Anselmo
(to them).
Ye should not have cried now, ye fools! and choak ye!

Rienzi.
That worthy yonder looks well satisfied:
All of him, but his shoulder, seems at ease.

Anselmo.
Tommaso! art thou satisfied?

Tommaso.
Not I.
A fish upon my bread, at least on Friday,
Had done my body and my soul some good,
And quicken'd one and t'other at thanksgiving.
Anchovies are rare cooks for garlic, master!

[To Rienzi.
Anselmo.
I sigh for such delusion.

Rienzi.
So do I.
How came they hither?

Anselmo.
By a miracle.

Rienzi.
My honest friends! what can we do for you
At Rome?

Anselmo.
Speak. Does the Devil gripe your tongues?

Mob.
We crave our daily bread from holy hands,
And from none other.

Rienzi.
Then your daily bread
Ye will eat hot, and delicately small.
Frate Anselmo, what means this?

Anselmo.
It means,
O tribune, that the lady, late our queen,
Hath set aside broad lands and blooming gardens
For hospitals; which, with unrighteous zeal,
She builds with every church. There Saint Antonio
Beyond the gate of Capua! there Saint Martin
On Mount Saint-Eremo! there Saint Maria
Incoronata! All their hospitals!
No one hath monastery! no one nuns!

Rienzi.
Hard, hard upon you! But what means were yours
To bring so many supplicants so long
A journey with you?

Anselmo.
'Twas a miracle.

Rienzi.
Miracles never are of great duration.
Hurry them back! Hurry ye while it lasts!
I would not spoil it with occult supplies,
I reverence holy men too much for that,
And leave them to the only power above them.
Possibly quails and manna may not cross you
If you procrastinate. But, setting out
To-morrow, by whichever gate seems luckiest,
And questioning your honest mules discreetly,
I boldly answer for it, ye shall find
By their mild winking (should they hold their tongues)
The coin of our lord Clement on the back
Of one or other, in some well-thonged scrip.

Anselmo
(aside).
Atheist!

Tommaso.
Ah no, father! Atheists
Never lift up their eyes as you and he do. [Going together.

I know one in a twinkling. For example,
Cosimo Cappa was one. He denied
A miracle his mother might have seen
Not twelve miles from his very door, when she
Was heavy with him; and the saint who workt it,
To make him one, cost thirteen thousand ducats.
There was an atheist for you! that same Cappa . .
I saw him burnt . . a fine fresh lusty man.
I warrant I remember it: I won
A heap of chestnuts on that day at morra.
A sad poor place this Rome! look where you will,
No drying paste here dangles from the windows
Across the sunny street, to make it cheerful;
And much I doubt if, after all its fame,
The nasty yellow river breeds anchovies.