THE SHORT EPISODE which here follows introduces an entirely new element into Rienzi’s life. His nature was not that of a conspirator in the ordinary sense of the word; and though he had schemed and struggled much to return to Rome, it had lately been under the shield of Pope or Emperor, and never with any evident purpose of self-aggrandisement. But the wars which were continually raging in Italy, and in which every man’s hand was against his neighbour’s, had raised up a new agent in the much contested field, by whose aid, more than by that of either Pope or Emperor, principalities rose and fell, and great fortunes were made and lost. This was the singular institution of the Soldier of Fortune, the Free Lance, whose bands, without country, without object except pay and some vulgar version of fame, without creed or nationality or scruples of any kind, roamed over Europe, ready to adopt any cause or throw their weight on any side, and furnishing the very material that was necessary to carry on those perpetual struggles, which kept Italy in particular, and most other countries more or less, in constant commotion. These men took service with the utmost impartiality on whatever side was likely to give them the highest pay, or the best opportunity of acquiring wealth — their leaders occasionally possessing themselves of the lordship of a rich territory, the inferior captains falling into lesser fiefs and windfalls of all kinds, the merest man-at-arms apt to enrich himself, either by the terror he inspired, or the protection he could give. It was their existence indeed, it may almost be said, that made these endless wars, which were so generally without motive, demonstrations of vanity of one city against another, or attempts on the part of one to destroy the liberties and trade of another, which, had they been carried on by the citizens themselves, must have in the long run brought all human affairs to a deadlock, and become impossible: but which, when carried on through the agency of the mercenaries, were little more than an exciting game, more exciting than any Kriegsspiel that has been invented since. The men were themselves moving castles, almost impregnable, more apt to be suffocated in their armour than killed in honest fight, and as a matter of fact their campaigns were singularly bloodless; but they were like the locusts, the scourge of the country, leaving nothing but destruction and rapine behind them wherever they moved. The dreadful army known as La Grande Compagnia, of which Fra Moreale (the Chevalier de Monreal, but always bearing this name in Italy) was the head, was at this time pervading Italy — everywhere feared, everywhere sought, the cruel and terrible chief being at the same time a romantic and high born personage, a Knight Hospitaller, the equal of the great Seigneurs whom he served, and ready to be himself some time a great Seigneur too, the head of the first principality which he should be strong enough to lay hold of, as the Sforza had done of Milan. The services of such a man were of course a never-failing resource and temptation to every adventurer or pretender who could afford to procure the money to pay for them.
There is no proof that Rienzi had any plan of securing the dominion of Rome by such means; indeed his practice, as will be seen, leads to the contrary conclusion; but the transaction to which he became a party while he was in Perugia — under the orders of Cardinal Albornoz — shows that he was, for the moment at least, attracted by the strange possibilities put within his reach: as it also demonstrates the strangely business-like character and trade aspect of an agency so warlike and romantic. At Perugia and other towns through which he passed, the Tribune was recognised and everywhere followed by the Romans, who were to be found throughout the Patrimony, and who had but one entreaty to make to him. The chronicler recovers all his wonted energy when he resumes his narrative, leaving with delight the dull conflicts of the Roman nobles among themselves, and with the Legate vainly attempting to pacify and negotiate between them — for the living figure of the returned leader, and the eager populace who hailed him again, as their deliverer, as if it had been others and not themselves who had driven him away! Even in Montefiascone our biographer tells, there was such recourse of Romans to him that it was stupore, stupefying, to see them.
“Every Roman turned to him, and multitudes visited him. A
great tail of the populace followed him wherever he went.
Everybody marvelled, including the Legate, to see how he
was followed. After the destruction of Viterbo, when the
army returned, many Romans who were in it, some of them
important men, came to Rienzi. They said, ‘Return to thy
Rome, cure her of her sickness. Be her lord. We will give
thee help, favour, and strength. Be in no doubt. Never were
you so much desired or so much loved as at present.’ These
flatteries the Romans gave him, but they did not give him a
penny of money: their words however moved Cola di Rienzi,
and also the glory of it, for which he always thirsted by
nature, and he began to think what he could do to make a
foundation, and where he would find people and money to go
to Rome. He talked of it with the Legate, but neither did
he supply him with any money. It had been settled that the
people of Perugia should make a provision for him, giving
him enough to live upon honourably; but that was not
sufficient for raising an army. And for this reason he went
to Perugia and met the Counsellors there. He spoke well and
promised better, and the Counsellors were very eager to
hear the sweetness of his words, to which they lent an
attentive ear. These they licked up like honey. But they
were responsible for the goods of the commune, and not one
penny (Cortonese) could he obtain from them.
“At this time there were in Perugia two young gentlemen of
Provence, Messer Arimbaldo, doctor of laws, and Messer
Bettrom, the knight of Narba (Narbonne), in Provence,
brothers; who were also the brothers of the famous Fra
Moreale, who was at the head of La Grande Compagnia.... He
had acquired much wealth by robbery and booty, and
compelled the Commune of Perugia to provide for his
brothers who were there. When Cola di Rienzi heard that
Messer Arimbaldo of Narba, a young man who loved letters,
was in Perugia, he invited him to visit him, and would have
him dine at his hostel where he was. While they were at
table Cola di Rienzi began to talk of the greatness of the
Romans. He mingled stories of Titus Livius with things from
the Bible. He opened the fountain of his knowledge. Deh!
how he talked — all his strength he put into his reasoning;
and so much to the point did he speak that every man was
overwhelmed by such wonderful conversation; every one rose
to his feet, put his hand to his ear, and listened in
silence. Messer Arimbaldo was astonished by these fine
speeches. He admired the greatness of the Romans. The
warmth of the wine raised his spirit to the heights. The
fantastic understand the fantastic. Messer Arimbaldo could
not endure to be absent from Cola di Rienzi. He lived with
him, he walked with him; one meal they shared, and slept in
one bed. He dreamt of doing great things, of raising up
Rome, of restoring its ancient state. To do this money was
wanted — three thousand florins at least. He pledged himself
to procure the three thousand florins, and it was promised
to him that he should be made a citizen of Rome and
captain, and be much honoured, all which was arranged to
the great despite of his brother Messer Bettrom. Therefore,
Arimbaldo took from the merchants of Perugia four thousand
florins, to give them to Cola di Rienzi. But before Messer
Arimbaldo could give this money to Cola, he had to ask
leave of his elder brother, Fra Moreale, which he did,
sending him a letter in these words: ‘Honoured brother, — I
have gained in one day more than you have done in all your
life. I have acquired the lordship of Rome, which is
promised to me by Messer Cola di Rienzi, Knight, Tribune,
who is much visited by the Romans and called by the
people. I believe that such a plan cannot fail. With the
help of your genius nothing could injure such a great
State; but money is wanted to begin with. If it pleases
your brotherly kindness, I am taking four thousand florins
from the bank, and with a strong armament am setting out
for Rome.’ Fra Moreale read this letter and replied to it
as follows:
“‘I have thought much of this work which you intend to do.
A great and weighty burden is this which you take upon you.
I do not understand your intention; my mind does not go
with it, my reason is against it. Nevertheless go on, and
do it well. In the first place, take great care that the
four thousand florins are not lost. If anything evil happen
to you, write to me. I will come to your help with a
thousand or two thousand men, and do the thing
magnificently. Therefore do not fear. See that you and your
brother love each other, honour each other, and make no
quarrel between you.’
“Messer Arimbaldo received this letter with much joy, and
arranged with the Tribune to set out for Rome.”
Fra Moreale was a good brother and a far-seeing chief. He saw that the Signoria of Rome, if it could be attained, would be a good investment for his four thousand florins, and probably that Cola di Rienzi was an instrument which could easily be thrown away when it had fulfilled its end, so that it was worth while letting young Arimbaldo have his way. No prevision of the tragedy that was to come, troubled the spirit of the great brigand. He would no doubt have laughed at the suggestion, that his young brother’s eloquent demagogue, the bel dicitore, a character always disdained of fighting men, could do him, with all his martial followers behind him, and his money in the bank, any harm.
The first thing that Rienzi did we are told, was to clothe himself gloriously in scarlet, furred with minever and embroidered with gold, in which garb he appeared before the Legate who had heretofore known him only in a sober suit of ordinary cloth — accompanied by the two brothers of Moreale and a train of attendants. There had been a report of more disorder than usual in Rome, a condition of things with which a recently appointed Senator, appointed as a stranger to keep the factions in order, was quite unable to cope: and there was therefore a certain reason in the request, when the Tribune in all his new finery, came into the presence of the Legate, although he asked no less than to be made Senator, undertaking, at the same time, to secure the peace of the turbulent city. The biographer gives a vivid picture of Rienzi in his sudden revival. “Splendidly he displayed himself with his scarlet hood on his shoulders, and scarlet mantle adorned with various furs. He moved his head back and forward, raising himself on his toes, as who would say ‘Who am I? — I, who may I be?’” The Legate as usual was “stupefied” by this splendid apparition, but gave serious ear to his request, no doubt knowing the reality of his pretensions so far as the Roman people were concerned. He finally agreed to do what was required of him, no doubt like Fra Moreale, confident that the instrument, especially being so vain and slight a man as this, could easily be got rid of when he had served his turn.
Accordingly, with all the strength he could muster — a troop of 250 free lances, Germans and Burgundians, the same number of infantry from Tuscany, with fifty young men of good families in Perugia — a very tolerable army for the time — and the two young Provençals, along with other youths to whom he had promised various offices, the new Senator set out for Rome. He was now a legal official, with all the strength of the Pope and constituted authority behind him; not a penny of money it is true from the Legate, and only those four thousand florins in his treasury: but with all the taxes and offerings in Rome in front of him, and the highest promise of success. It was a very different beginning from that of seven years ago, when young, penniless, disinterested, with no grandeur to keep up, and no soldiers to pay, he had been borne by the shouting populace to the Capitol to an unlimited and impossible empire. He was now a sober man, experienced in the world, forty, and trained by the intercourse of courts, in other ways than those of his youth. He had now been taught how to scheme and plot, to cajole and flatter, to play one party against another, and change his plans to suit his circumstances. So far as we know, he had no motive that could be called bad, except that of achieving the splendour he loved, and surrounding himself with the paraphernalia of greatness. The devil surely never before used so small a bribe to corrupt a nature full of so many fine things. He meant to establish the Buono Stato, probably as sincerely as of old. He had learned that he could not put forth the same unlimited pretensions. The making of emperors and sway of the world had to be resigned; but there is no evidence that he did not mean to carry out in his new reign the high designs for his city, and for the peace and prosperity of the surrounding country, which he had so triumphantly succeeded in doing for that one happy and triumphant moment in his youth.