University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—The Capitoline Hill.
Enter Ursini and Frangipani, R.
Fra.
(C.)
Nay, Ursini, why pluck me by the sleeve?
Why steal from the procession?—Why awaken
The tyrant's anger?

Urs.
(R. C.)
For revenge!—Ye are stunned,
Bewildered, as men rousing from a dream,
That know not where they stand. Dost thou not see
Our great revenge is sure? The tyrant walks
Blinded by his vain glory; confident
In that straw fetter, an extorted oath;
And we—Why are we not resolved? And be not
Our bold retainers waiting armed in proof,
Without the gates of Rome?—What, if to-night—

Fra.
This very hour. Our tried and hardy band,
Led by the chivalry of Rome, could carry
The city at a charge; and Rome herself
Will rise against the madman.

Urs.
Here comes one,
Whose name were worth a host. Didst thou not mark
How, stung by the sharp scorn Rienzi flung
On proud Colonna, the young bridegroom broke
From his new father's side?

Enter Angelo.
Urs.
Lord Angelo,
A truant from this pageant?

Ang.
(L.)
As thou see'st.

Urs.
Yet, thy good father, our great Tribune—

Ang.
Sir,
I am a son of the Colonna.

[Crosses to R.
Urs.
Ay,
The heir of that most princely house; and, sir,
Fair though she be, a friend must frankly wish
She owned another sire.

Ang.
(C.)
No more!—no more!

Enter Savelli and Cafarello, L.
Ang.
How pass'd the ceremonial, Count? Beseech thee,
Tell us of these new rites.

Sav.
The noble train
Rolled smoothly on. Rienzi led the band
Right royally, sceptered and robed, and backing
A milk-white Arab, from whose eyeballs flashed
Quick gleams of glittering light. Colonna held
The bridle-rein.

Ang.
Stephen Colonna!

Sav.
Ay—
Thy father, sir. We meaner barons walked
Behind, bareheaded, and with folded arms,
As men doing penance to the holy shrine
Of St. John Lateran. Then came a mummery
Of oaths to that indefinite she, the State—
Republic, sir, is out of date—and then—

Caf.
(L. C.)
Ay, tell that impious outrage.

Sav.
Then Rienzi,
Stepping before the altar, his bold hand
Laid on the consecrated Host, sent forth,
In a full pealing voice, that rolled along
The fretted roof, like the loud organ-swell,
A rash and insolent summons to the Pope
And Cardinals; next he cited to appear
The imperial rivals, Charles and Lewis; next,
The Electors Palatine. Then, whilst the aisles
Of the hushed church prolonged his words, he drew
His dazzling sword, and, waving the bright blade
To the four points of Heaven, cried with a deep
Intensity of will, that drove his words
Like arrows through the brain,—“This, too, is mine.”
Yes, to each part of this fair earth he cried,—
“Thou, too, art mine.”

Ang.
Madman! And ye—

Sav.
We listened
In patience and in silence; whilst he stood
His form dilating, and his haughty glance
Instinct with fiery pride.

Ang.
Now, by St. John,
Had I been there, ye should have heard a voice
Answer this frenzied summoner.

Urs.
Our answer
Is yet unspoken. Angelo Colonna,
If the old glories of thy princely race,
Thy knightly honour, thy fresh-budding fame,
Outshine the red and white of Claudia's cheek,
Then—

Ang.
Wherefore pause? I know thee, Ursini,—
Rienzi's mortal foe, and scarce a friend
To the Colonna;—yet, in honour's name—
Say on!

Rie.
[Without, L.]
Lead home the steed. I'll walk from hence.

Urs.
Meet me at the Colonna Palace. Fail not.

Enter Rienza, attended by Colonna, and other Lords, L.
Rie.
(L.)
Ah! he is here.—Son! Ye may leave us, lords,—
We are content with your good service.
Son,
[Exeunt all but Rienzi and Angelo, L.
Methinks this high solemnity might well
Have claimed thy presence. A great ruler's heir
Should be familiar in the people's eyes;
Live on their tongues; take root within their hearts;
Win woman's smiles by honest courtesy,
And force man's tardier praise by bold desert:
So, when the chief shall die, the general love
May hail his successor. But thou, where wast thou?
If with thy bride—

Ang.
I have not seen her.—Tribune,—
Thou wav'st away the word with such a scorn
As I poured poison in thine ear.—Already
Dost weary of the title?

Rie.
Wherefore should I?

Ang.
Thou art ambitious.

Rie.
Granted.

Ang.
And wouldst be
A king.

Rie.
There thou mistak'st.—A king! fair son!
Power dwelleth not in sound, and fame hath garlands
Brighter than diadems. I might have been
Anointed, sceptered, crowned, have cast a blaze
Of glory round the old imperial wreath,
The laurel of the Cæsars; but I chose
To master kings, not to be one; “to direct
The royal puppets as my sovereign will,
And Rome—my Rome, decree.—Tribune! the Gracchi
Were called so.”—Tribune! I will make that name
A word of fear to kings.

Ang.
Rienzi! Tribune!
Hast thou forgotten, on this very spot,
How thou didst shake the slumbering soul of Rome
With the brave sound of freedom, till she rose,
And from her giant limbs the shackles dropped,
Burst by one mighty throe? Hadst thou died then,
History had crowned thee with a glorious title—
Deliverer of thy country.

Rie.
Well!

Ang.
Alas! when now thou fall'st, as fall thou must, 'twill be
The common tale of low ambition.—Tyrants
O'erthrown to form a wilder tyranny;
Princes cast down, that thy obscurer house
May rise on nobler ruins.

Rie.
Hast thou ended?
I fain would have mistaken thee—hast done?

Ang.
No; for, despite thy smothered wrath, the voice
Of warning truth shall reach thee. Thou to-day
Hast, by thy frantic sacrilege, drawn on thee
The thunders of the church, the mortal feud
Of either emperor. Here, at home, the barons
Hate, and the people shun thee. Seest thou not,
Even in this noon of pride, thy waning power
Fade, flicker, and wax dim. Thou art as one
Perched on some lofty steeple's dizzy height,
Dazzled by the sun, inebriate by long draughts
Of thinner air; too giddy to look down
Where all his safety lies; too proud to dare
The long descent to the low depths from whence
The desperate climber rose.

Rie.
Ay, there's the sting,—
That I, an insect of to-day, outsoar
The reverend worm, nobility! Wouldst shame me
With my poor parentage!—Sir, I'm the son
Of him who kept a sordid hostelry
In the Jews' quarter; my good mother cleansed
Linen for honest hire.—Canst thou say worse?

Ang.
Can worse be said?

Rie.
(C.)
Add, that my boasted schoolcraft
Was gained from such base toil, gained with such pain
That the nice nurture of the mind was oft,
Stolen at the body's cost. I have gone dinnerless
And supperless, the scoff of our poor street,
For tattered vestments and lean hungry looks,
To pay the pedagogue.—Add what thou wilt
Of injury. Say that, grown into man,
I've known the pittance of the hospital,
And, more degrading still, the patronage
Of the Colonna. Of the tallest trees
The roots delve deepest. Yes, I've trod thy halls,
Scorned and derided midst their ribald crew,
A licensed jester, save the cap and bells:
I have borne this—and I have borne the death,
The unavenged death, of a dear brother.
I seemed I was a base ignoble slave.
What am I?—Peace, I say!—what am I now?
Head of this great republic, chief of Rome;
In all but name, her sovereign; last of all,
Thy father.

Ang.
In an evil hour—

Rie.
Dar'st thou
Say that? An evil hour for thee, my Claudia!
Thou shouldst have been an emperor's bride, my fairest.
In evil hour thy woman's heart was caught,
“By the form moulded as an antique god;”
The gallant bearing, the feigned tale of love—
All false, all outward, simulated all.

Ang.
But that I loved her, but that I do love her,
With a deep tenderness, softer and fonder
Than thy ambition-hardened heart e'er dream'd of,
My sword should answer thee.

Rie.
Go to, Lord Angelo;
Thou lov'st her not.—Men taunt not, nor defy
The dear one's kindred. A bright atmosphere
Of sunlight and of beauty breathes around
The bosom's idol.—I have lov'd—she loves thee;
And therefore thy proud father,—even the shrew,
Thy railing mother, in her eyes, are sacred.
Lay not thy hand upon thy sword, fair son—
Keep that brave for thy comrades. I'll not fight thee.
Go and give thanks to yonder simple bride,
That her plebeian father mews not up,
Safe in the citadel, her noble husband.
Thou art dangerous, Colonna. But, for her,
Beware!

[Going, R.
Ang.
(R. C.)
Come back, Rienzi! Thus I throw
A brave defiance in thy teeth.

[Throws down his glove.
Rie.
Once more,
Beware!

Ang.
Take up the glove!

Rie.
This time, for her—
[Takes up the glove.
For her dear sake—come to thy bride! home! home!

Ang.
Dost fear me, tribune of the people!

Rie.
Fear!
Do I fear thee!—Tempt me no more.—This once,
Home to thy bride!

[Exit, R.
Ang.
Now, Ursini, I come—
Fit partner of thy vengeance!

[Exit, L.