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Rienzi, Last of the Roman Tribunes, a novel by Edward Bulwer-Lytton |
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Book 10. The Lion Of Basalt - Chapter 10.7. The Tax |
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_ These formidable conspiracies quelled, the Barons nearly subdued, and three parts of the Papal territory reunited to Rome, Rienzi now deemed he might safely execute one of his favourite projects for the preservation of the liberties of his native city; and this was to raise and organize in each quarter of Rome a Roman Legion. Armed in the defence of their own institutions, he thus trusted to establish amongst her own citizens the only soldiery requisite for Rome. But so base were the tools with which this great man was condemned to work out his noble schemes, that none could be found to serve their own country, without a pay equal to that demanded by foreign hirelings. With the insolence so peculiar to a race that has once been great, each Roman said, "Am I not better than a German?--Pay me, then, accordingly." The Senator smothered his disgust--he had learned at last to know that the age of the Catos was no more. From a daring enthusiast, experience had converted him into a practical statesman. The Legions were necessary to Rome--they were formed--gallant their appearance and faultless their caparisons. How were they to be paid? There was but one means to maintain Rome--Rome must be taxed. A gabelle was put upon wine and salt. The Proclamation ran thus:-- "Romans! raised to the rank of your Senator, my whole thought has been for your liberties and welfare; already treason defeated in the City, our banners triumphant without, attest the favour with which the Deity regards men who seek to unite liberty with law. Let us set an example to Italy and the World! Let us prove that the Roman sword can guard the Roman Forum! In each Rione of the City is provided a Legion of the Citizens, collected from the traders and artisans of the town; they allege that they cannot leave their callings without remuneration. Your senator calls upon you willingly to assist in your own defence. He has given you liberty; he has restored to you peace: your oppressors are scattered over the earth. He asks you now to preserve the treasures you have gained. To be free, you must sacrifice something; for freedom, what sacrifice too great? Confident of your support, I at length, for the first time, exert the right entrusted to me by office--and for Rome's salvation I tax the Romans!" Then followed the announcement of the gabelle. The Proclamation was set up in the public thoroughfares. Round one of the placards a crowd assembled. Their gestures were vehement and unguarded--their eyes sparkled--they conversed low, but eagerly. "He dares to tax us, then! Why, the Barons or the Pope could not do more than that!" "Shame! shame!" cried a gaunt female; "we, who were his friends! How are our little ones to get bread?" "He should have seized the Pope's money!" quoth an honest wine-vender. "Ah! Pandulfo di Guido would have maintained an army at his own cost. He was a rich man. What insolence in the innkeeper's son to be a Senator!" "We are not Romans if we suffer this!" said a deserter from Palestrina. "Fellow-citizens!" exclaimed gruffly a tall man, who had hitherto been making a clerk read to him the particulars of the tax imposed, and whose heavy brain at length understood that wine was to be made dearer--"Fellow-citizens, we must have a new revolution! This is indeed gratitude! What have we benefited by restoring this man! Are we always to be ground to the dust? To pay--pay--pay! Is that all we are fit for?" "Hark to Cecco del Vecchio!" "No, no; not now," growled the smith. "Tonight the artificers have a special meeting. We'll see--we'll see!" A young man, muffled in a cloak, who had not been before observed, touched the smith. "Whoever storms the Capitol the day after tomorrow at the dawn," he whispered, "shall find the guards absent!" He was gone before the smith could look round. The same night Rienzi, retiring to rest, said to Angelo Villani--"A bold but necessary measure this of mine! How do the people take it?" "They murmur a little, but seem to recognise the necessity. Cecco del Vecchio was the loudest grumbler, but is now the loudest approver." "The man is rough; he once deserted me;--but then that fatal excommunication! He and the Romans learned a bitter lesson in that desertion, and experience has, I trust, taught them to be honest. Well, if this tax be raised quietly, in two years Rome will be again the Queen of Italy;--her army manned--her Republic formed; and then--then--" "Then what, Senator?" "Why then, my Angelo, Cola di Rienzi may die in peace! There is a want which a profound experience of power and pomp brings at last to us--a want gnawing as that of hunger, wearing as that of sleep!--my Angelo, it is the want to die!" "My Lord, I would give this right hand," cried Villani, earnestly, "to hear you say you were attached to life!" "You are a good youth, Angelo!" said Rienzi, as he passed to Nina's chamber; and in her smile and wistful tenderness, forgot for a while--that he was a great man! _ |
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