Nicolas Gabrini, much more known by the popular name of Cola di Rienzi, or rather Cola di Rienzo-diminutive of Laurenzo-was born at Rome, in 1313 or 1314, in the part of the Eternal City called the Rione, on the left bank of the Tiber, opposite what is now termed the Trastaverine quarter of the city. The half-ruined palace, shown at this day, at Rome, to the hasty tourist, as having been the dwelling of Rienzi, has never had any thing to do with our hero. His contemporary biographer states that he was born on the strand, near the mills, below the Ghetto, in the midst of the miserable stalls of fishermen, where his father kept a small inn, his mother being employed at the same time in washing the linen of the rich neighbours, and even, at times, in carrying water to their houses. A popular legend has attributed to this poor woman an adventure which, however discreditable to herself, tended to give a loftier origin to the Tribune. It states that when the Emperor Henry VII of Luxembourg, whose arrival in Italy was hailed with such enthusiasm by Dante, came to Rome for his coronation, he had pledged his word to remain in the Trastavere, namely, in the Pontifical City, and not to set his foot on the left bank, which was more especially the city of the Barons, but that the young Cæsar, with one of his companions, sauntering imprudently in the midst of the monuments on the bank interdicted to him, he was recognised-the report of his presence speedily known-and that, being pursued, he fled into the tavern of Gabrini, then recently married, and remained there concealed some days till the danger was over. The legend affirms that Rienzi's mother related to a friend of hers, at a later period, that her beloved son Cola was the offspring of the Imperial guest. It must be observed that none of the chroniclers and historians of Henry VII. mention this adventure.

Rienzi was endowed by nature with great nobleness in his demeanour. His handsome features reflected all the impressions of his soul. Although tall, and apparently robust, there was something delicate and feminine in his.complexion, which was of an extreme transparency, as well as in his constitution, as it appears from the frequent swooning fits to which he

was subject. His eyes and smile had something unfathomable, fantastical, which made a deep impression on all who approached him for the first time. His voice was remarkable for its sweet, silvery tone. Petrarch has spoken in terms of admiration of his eloquence and of the purity of his diction. His flow of language, his bold images, the vivacity of his action, the felicity of his expressions, sometimes burning with the earnestness of his convictions, at other times, bitter and sarcastic, carried away all who heard him, the more so, as his addresses were always extemporaneous. He lived during a singular epoch of transition, when the revival of classical literature was rousing all intellects, at the same time that religious discussions and disorganization were often transforming orthodoxy into mysticism. Rienzi is the most extraordinary product and representative of this epoch. He was intrusted for his education to a relation, a priest at Anagni, and his instruction, as well as his training, was subjected to the dualism of his time. It was semi-sacred, semi-profane. His intellect was divided between classical antiquity and theology. He became deeply versed in the literature of ancient Rome, and his discourses and letters, collected by Papencordt, replete with quotations from the Bible and from the fathers, evince his profound knowledge of the sacred books. When he returned, as a young man, to the place of his birth, he met there all that could vivify his mystical and antiquarian tendencies. His imagination became deeply impressed by the grandeur of the ruined marvels of Pagan Rome, as well as by the rising wonders of the Christian metropolis. The Eternal City offered the most extraordinary amalgamation of Christian and Pagan monuments. The most celebrated, profane temples of antiquity were transformed into shrines of the modern saints. The cross of our Saviour, or the statue of His mother, the Virgin Mary, could be seen mixed with profane and martial sculptural representations. And, the same strange compound existed in the intellect and imagination of the Romans. They made no distinction between the Kings and Emperors of Rome and the Popes. The mass of the people generally believed Romulus to have been the first of

Pontiffs. The political and religious legends of the ancients and of the moderns, had attained a state of complete fusion during their formation and growth.

At this period the political state of Rome was such as to keep her people in a state of febrile agitation. The Holy City had no government. She was no longer the Imperial Rome, nor the Pontifical Rome. The Teutonic Cæsars had abandoned her. The Popes had also fled from the sacred hill of the Vatican to the slimy Gallic city, Avignon. One, and sometimes two, senators, were invested with the executive authority, but their annual election was generally the result of pure chance, or of extreme violence. As to the municipal offices of Priors or Consuls, of Captains of districts, and others, they were still more irregular, disordered, and a dead letter. The real masters of the city were the princes or barons, who dwelt in their fortified castles in the environs, or their strong palaces within. The principal among them were masters of different parts of the city. The celebrated old family of the Colonnas reigned, it may be said, over the north of the city, towards the Quirinal; old Stephen Colonna, long exiled, was the patriarch of the family: he had seven sons, five of whom were cardinals, the two others distinguished knights, and six daughters, well married, with many grandsons, all members of the knighthood. Old Colonna was eighty years old in 1343, and Petrarch states that he remained youthful and vigorous, while every thing was decaying round him. The new family of the Orsini, extended their sway along the Tiber from the Campo-di-Fiore, to the Church of St. Peter, comprising the castle of St. Angelo. The Savelli, less powerful, possessed a part of the Aventine, with the theatre of Marcellus, and the Conti, the huge tower which bears their name, on Cæsar's Forum. Other members of the nobility, in the country, were possessors of small fortified cities, or castles, all well provided with the means of warfare and of defence.

Rome, subjected to such a domination, had become almost deserted. The population of the seven-hilled city had come down to about 30,000 souls. When the barons were at

peace with each other, which, however, was a rare occurrence, they combined to exercise their tyranny over the citizens and the serfs, to rob and plunder the farmers, travellers, and pilgrims. Petrarch wrote to the Pope at this period, that Rome had become the abode of demons, the receptacle of all crimes, a hell for the living. The modern city threatened to add its ruins to those of ancient Rome: a vast number of houses, and most of the churches, were roofless and falling to pieces. Such was the state of the Eternal City when the intellectual movement created by Petrarch, gave rise to a manifestation which exercised a great influence on Rienzi as well as on all those who suffered from the degraded state of their fatherland, and which led to a political revolution. Petrarch was, after Dante, the first who effectively awoke the public intelligence to a return towards the classical literature, and in doing so, he revived all the old reminiscences of the majestic Republican grandeur of Rome. He was residing in his lovely solitude of Vaucluse, but his heart, his thoughts, were at Rome. He had frequently visited the unfortunate city, and his enthusiasm for the monumental, classical soil-his bewailings at the lamentable state of the classical and Pontifical metropolis-gave rise to a profound sympathy and a boundless enthusiasm, even amongst those who were instrumental in the misfortunes of Rome. In 1340 Petrarch received from the Senate of Rome and the University of Paris an invitation to receive solemnly the poetical crown, as a public tribute to his genius. He did not hesitate in deciding at once his grateful acceptance of the former in preference to the latter. He previously went, however, to Naples, where was then reigning a literary king, Robert of Anjou, an enthusiastic admirer of Virgil, on whose tomb he raised a monument, over the Pausilippo, the desolate remains of which may still be seen. Petrarch considered Robert as the only competent judge of literary genius, and underwent a literary tournament, in Latin and Italian, on poetry as well as learned questions, after which the poet was declared worthy of the poetical laurel, and received at the king's hands his own royal robe for the day of his triumph.

This ceremony was prepared with great pomp and pageantry by the Colonnas; its object was to soothe and amuse a little, the poor Romans, whilst it secured a temporary popularity on its originators. It took place on Easter Sunday, the 8th of April, 1341. Rome seemed transformed into a temple; crowds flocked into the city; every human being held a branch of laurel; the poet being called by a herald to the Capitol, resplendent with gold and scarlet velvet, he advanced, recited a sonnet, closing with the words: "Long live the Roman people! May God keep them free for ever." The words were caught by myriads of voices, repeating them a thousand times. The poet received the crown, but the remainder of the ceremony was drowned in the confusion of an extraordinary enthusiasm. The crowd soon after dispersed, but in a state of great agitation. This proved to be a memorable day in the life of the Roman people. The triumph became that of Rome much more than of the Poet. The cry of the " Capitol for ever" soon replaced that of "Long live the Poet." The Capitol, namely, the glorious hill, where the fortune of Rome had commenced, the memorable hill, before which the whole world had bowed down! The word was enough to move the Roman people in its inmost core, but the emotion, however deep, must have proved evanescent, had it not been treasured up and fostered, matured and exalted, by the son of the tavern-keeper and of the washerwoman.

Rienzi was then twenty-eight years old. He had made a fortunate marriage. His wife was young and handsome; she was the daughter of a distinguished Roman citizen, and he had by her three children, a boy and two girls. His function of notary (assessore) to the Roman tribunals, would seem to infer that he was considered a peaceful, rational citizen. It appears, however, that he brought in the exercise of his official duties, the excited imagination and generosity of heart which characterized his nature. He gloried in being surnamed the Consul of orphans, of widows, and of the poor. His love for the humble, soon became blended with an intense hatred for the great: one of his brothers was killed accidentally by a Roman baron, without his being able to obtain any satis

faction; consequently, the tyrannical sway of the nobles over the city became doubly odious to him, and kindled daily the fire that was simmering in his breast. Rienzi had always been noted for his literary and poetical taste; he was considered as deeply versed in the knowledge of antiquity, and as the most skilful in deciphering and explaining the numerous inscriptions with which Rome abounded. But it was from the day of the triumph,from the influence and presence of Petrarch at Rome,-that the notary brought all his archæological learning to bear on his political passions, and endeavoured to transform his historical and poetical effervescence into an instrument of revolution. From that day, the smallest medal, the least remains of antiquity became for him a theme of declamatory addresses to the people, on the present state of Rome, on the iniquities that surrounded him. Followed by groups that augmented daily, and which listened to him with breathless interest, he led them from ruin to ruin, to the Forum, to the tombs of the Christian martyrs, thus associating every glory, and, made the hearts of the people throb by his mystical eloquence his lamentations over the fate of the Eternal City, bereft of her heroes, of her apostles, of all her great men-of the true old Romans and of the modern faithful Christiansand from which faith and justice were exiled. The popular agitation augmenting daily, the nobles, who were openly accused of being the authors of the misfortunes of Rome, held a partial meeting to consider the present emergencies, and sent, but in vain, a deputation to Pope Clement VI., at Avignon, entreating him to come and pacify the city by his presence. In the following year the agitation continued, and no remedy being brought to the popular grievances, an insurrection broke out. The senator was expelled; thirteen good men (buoni uomini) were installed in the Capitol and invested with dictatorial powers. It was a Guelfic movement; Rienzi was mixed with it, but without any preeminent participation. This new government resolved to send an embassy to the Pope, at Avignon, and Rienzi formed part of it.

Such was the first real public act in the life of Cola di Rienzo. The embassy was joined by Petrarch. The

eloquent prayers of the poet, the impressive address of Rienzi, were of no avail. The Pope would not hear of leaving his new splendid palace, and the gentle population of Avignon, for the heap of ruins and the human turbulence of Rome. Rienzi was even exposed to some danger, for in his harangue, having fearlesslydenounced the lawless rapines of the Roman nobles, Cardinal Colonna, in his indignation, contrived to have him expelled from the pontifical palace, and the new government of Rome being unable to pay its ambassadors, he was almost reduced to beg, and being taken ill, he fell into the most absolute penury. Fortunately for him, he had had the felicitous idea to introduce in his harangue, a request for a new Jubilee, in 1350, the pageantry of which would flatter the pride and gratify the avidity of the Roman people. The Pontiff, on second thoughts, wished to see again the bold speaker; he sent for him, and evidently received a favourable impression from this interview, as he granted him the Jubilee requested, and appointed him Apostolical Vicar, with a benefice, which would enable him to subsist honourably. At the same time Cardinal Aymeric was named to represent the Pope at Rome, as Legate, and a Colonna and an Orsini, invested with the senatorial dignity, in order to restore order in the Eternal City, in the name of the

Pontiff.

Rienzi indulged in the most extravagant exultation. He wrote a highly enthusiastic address to the Roman people. But his illusion was not of long duration. The new Legate only attended to the filling of the Papal treasury. The nobility, protected by the new senators, continued their course of tyranny. Rienzi protested warmly against such a course of iniquities, in the council. One day he spoke with a still greater vehemence of indignation, when one of the members of the council struck him in the face, others hissed out at him sneeringly, calling him the Consul of orphans and widows. From that day he never appeared at any of its meetings; his hatred had swollen, and must explode. He found that the buoni uomini were the accomplices of the nobility. He went straight to the people (popolo minuto), and prepared a revolution. To render his

exhortations to the people more impressive, he made use of large allegorical pictures, hastily drawn, and which form a curious testimony of his mystical imagination, as well as of his forensic eloquence. The first of them which he exhibited was a fresco sketch, on a wall, representing a furious sea, with a vessel shattered by the storm, on the point of sinking, a female, in mourning, on the deck, her hair dishevelled and her arms raised imploringly toward heaven; a legend was perceptible floating in the clouds, bearing the name of Rome. Round the vessel thus in danger, four others were seen, totally wrecked, each bearing the body of lifeless female; they were Babylon, Carthage, Troy, and Jerusalem. On the left of this rough fresco was seen, on a small island, sorrow-struck Italy, under the form of a beautiful weeping female; on the right on two other islands-the four cardinal virtues, lamenting their exile from the metropolis of Christendom; in the back ground, appeared the Roman nobles, under the form of wolves and lionsthe magistrates under that of foxesthe homicides, robbers, under that of monkeys and swine-all blowing with their mouths on the waves, which threatened to engulph the much-tossed vessel bearing unfortunate Rome; finally, in the upper part of the fresco, representing the heavens, appeared the Creator in all his majestytwo swords emerging from his mouth, and the Apostles Peter and Paul standing by his side-the sole and last hope of Rome on the brink of ruin. There, the people crowded daily, to listen to Rienzi, who explained the allegory with burning eloquence, and a febrile, nervous excitement, which soon inflamed his audience. Subsequently he assembled the people in the church of Saint John of Lateran, then almost abandoned, like most churches in Rome, where there existed neither civil nor religious authority, so great was the anarchy reigning at the time. Rienzi had placed in the middle of it, the bronze table, on which was engraven the famous royal law, in virtue of which, it was said, the Senate had awarded the Empire to Vespasian. Near it, he had a tribune raised, and then he invited the nobles and all the orders of the city to come and hear him. When the church

was crowded, he entered, clothed in a long white robe, his head covered with a cap in the shape of a crown, bearing in the front the point of a silver sword. The whole spectacle created amazement, in the midst of which he pointed to the bronze table, explained its inscription, which no one before him had been able to decipher, and expatiated on its being an irrefragable testimony of the Senate and people of Rome being in legitimate possession of a power which they had disgracefully repudiated, and, in consequence of which, poverty, wretchedness, and degradation were in the ascendant.

The nobles had hitherto considered those allegories with great contempt -as nothing more than an eccentric, declamatory charlatanism; others were amused by them; and no doubt several of the wiser barons were not without uneasiness as to their result. Whether from scorn or fear, they spared the eccentric orator; several of them were on a footing of intimacy with Cola, and invited him to their table to hear his vivacious conversation. He once said to them, in one of his explosions of frankness, in a banquet at the Colonna's: "When I am Emperor, I will have you all hanged.' But now there was a ferment working among the people; the symptoms of agitation were evident; it was thought that something must be done. Rienzi offered one last pictorial exhibition: it was a vast general conflagration, consuming all, excepting a venerable female, with St. Paul and St. Peter imploring the Lord in her favour, and a white dove appearing with a crown of myrtle, received by a little bird, which placed it as a symbol of salvation on the head of her whom the flames are to spare. This time the mystical Cola interpreted the allegory in his own favour. He was the feeble creature selected by the Holy Ghost to save and regenerate the Eternal City. Something extraordinary was expected by the masses. A few days after, it was announced and posted on the doors of every church, that the Romans would soon behold again their old constitution. At the same time, Rienzi often assembled his partisans at night, communicated to them his projects-binding them by solemn oaths-holding also, frequent and friendly intercourse

with the Pope's vicar, whom he had persuaded that every thing was done and intended for the good of the Church. Finally, he convoked the people at the Capitol for the 20th of May, 1347, the day of Pentecost, namely, under the invocation of the Holy Ghost. Rienzi had heard, with fervour, thirty masses during the preceding night. On that day he came out at twelve o'clock armed, with his head uncovered, followed by twentyfive partisans; three unfurled standards were carried before him, bearing allegorical pictures. This time his address was very brief--merely stating, that from his love for the Pope and the salvation of the people, he was ready to encounter any danger. He then read the laws which were to insure the happiness of Rome. They were, properly speaking, a summary of reforms, destined to relieve the people from their sufferings, and intended to realize, what he proclaimed, must become the good state, il buono stato. This summary, or decree, stated that, in future, every homicide would be condemned to death, whoever he might be ;-that trials must take place within the briefest delay;-that the public edifices would be the property of the Roman people, and be repaired instead of being injured or destroyed;-that a guard of 150 men must be maintained in every district for the safety of the city, and a ship in every harbour for the protection of trade;-that every nobleman must give up to the Roman people, the bridges, forts, or castles in his possession; that the revenues arising from the impost on salt and the fires, the duties in the harbours and rivers, which hitherto had been raised by the Apostolic Chamber, would in future belong to the Municipal Council, in order to be expended for the public good;-that the nobility would be entrusted with the keeping of the highways, and debarred from harbouring malefactors;

-that the poor monasteries were to be maintained at the public expense, and granaries built in various parts of the city, and filled by the State for the wants of the people; that the city and villages of the duchy of Rome were to be governed by the people; and one hundred livres awarded to the family of every soldier killed in the service of the State; and, finally, that