Rienzi | Page 3

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This etext was prepared by Sue Asscher

Rienzi,
The Last of the Roman Tribunes
by
Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton, Bart.

Then turn we to her latest Tribune's name, From her ten thousand
tyrants turn to thee, Redeemer of dark centuries of shame - The friend
of Petrarch - hope of Italy - Rienzi, last of Romans! While the tree Of
Freedom's wither'd trunk puts forth a leaf, Even for thy tomb a garland
let it be - The Forum's champion, and the People's chief - Her new-born
Numa thou!
Childe Harold, cant. iv. stanza 114.
Amidst the indulgence of enthusiasm and eloquence, Petrarch, Italy,
and Europe, were astonished by a revolution, which realized for a
moment his most splendid visions. - Gibbon, chap. 1xx.
Dedication of Rienzi.
To Alessandro Manzoni, as to the Genius of the Place,
Are Dedicated These Fruits, gathered on The Soil of Italian Fiction.
London, Dec. 1, 1835.
Dedication,
Prefixed to the First Collected Edition of the Author's Works in 1840.
My Dear Mother,
In inscribing with your beloved and honoured name this Collection of
my Works, I could wish that the fruits of my manhood were worthier of
the tender and anxious pains bestowed upon my education in youth.
Left yet young, and with no ordinary accomplishments and gifts, the
sole guardian of your sons, to them you devoted the best years of your
useful and spotless life; and any success it be their fate to attain in the
paths they have severally chosen, would have its principal sweetness in
the thought that such success was the reward of one whose hand aided
every struggle, and whose heart sympathized in every care.
From your graceful and accomplished taste, I early learned that

affection for literature which has exercised so large an influence over
the pursuits of my life; and you who were my first guide, were my
earliest critic. Do you remember the summer days, which seemed to me
so short, when you repeated to me those old ballads with which Percy
revived the decaying spirit of our national muse, or the smooth couplets
of Pope, or those gentle and polished verses with the composition of
which you had beguiled your own earlier leisure? It was those easy
lessons, far more than the harsher rudiments learned subsequently in
schools, that taught me to admire and to imitate; and in them I
recognise the germ of the flowers, however perishable they be, that I
now bind up and lay upon a shrine hallowed by a thousand memories
of unspeakable affection. Happy, while I borrowed from your taste,
could I have found it not more difficult to imitate your virtues - your
spirit of active and extended benevolence, your cheerful piety, your
considerate justice, your kindly charity - and all the qualities that
brighten a nature more free from the thought of self, than any it has
been my lot to meet with. Never more than at this moment did I wish
that my writings were possessed of a merit which might outlive my
time, so that at least these lines might remain a record of the excellence
of the Mother, and the gratitude of the Son.
E.L.B. London: January 6, 1840.
Preface
to
The First Edition of Rienzi.
I began this tale two years ago at Rome. On removing to Naples, I
threw it aside for "The Last Days of Pompeii," which required more
than "Rienzi" the advantage of residence within reach of the scenes
described. The fate of the Roman Tribune continued, however, to haunt
and impress me, and, some time after "Pompeii" was published, I
renewed my earlier undertaking. I regarded the completion of these
volumes, indeed, as a kind of duty; - for having had occasion to read
the original authorities from which modern historians have drawn their
accounts of the life