Girolamo rose to his feet and made a short speech, in which he extolled Checco’s wisdom and knowledge and patriotism, saying he had heard of a controversy between him and Antonio Lassi on the subject of the proposed tax, and consequently had sent for him to hear his opinion on the subject.
He stopped and looked round; his courtiers obsequiously applauded. Then, at opposite ends of the room, doors opened, and through each filed a string of soldiers; the citizens looked at one another, wondering. A flourish of trumpets was heard in the piazza, outside, and the tramp of soldiers. Girolamo waited; at last he proceeded, —
‘A good prince owes this to his subjects — to do nothing against their will freely expressed; and though I could command, for I am placed here by the Vicar of Christ himself, with absolute power over your lives and fortunes, yet such is my love and affection towards you that I do not disdain to ask your advice.’
The courtiers broke out into a murmur of surprise and self-congratulation at his infinite graciousness; the trumpets flourished again, and in the succeeding silence could be heard cries of command from the officers in the square, while from the soldiers standing about the hall there was a clank of swords and spurs.
Checco rose from his seat. He was pale and he almost seemed to hesitate; I wondered if the soldiers had had the effect which Girolamo intended. Then he began to speak, quietly, in even, well-turned sentences, so that one could see the speech had been carefully thought out.
He called to mind his own affection for Girolamo, and the mutual friendship which had solaced many hours of doubt and difficulty, and assured him of his unalterable fidelity to himself and his family; then he reminded him of the love borne by the people towards their ruler, and their consciousness of an equal love on the part of the Count towards themselves. He drew a picture of the joy in Forli when first Girolamo came to it, and of the enthusiasm caused by the sight of him or his wife walking through the streets.
There was a little applause, chiefly from the Count’s suite; Checco paused as if he had come to the end of his preface, and were gathering himself up for the real matter of his speech. There was deadly silence in the hall, all eyes were fixed on him, and all minds were asking themselves, ‘What will he say?’ Girolamo was leaning forward, resting his chin on his hand, looking anxious. I wondered if he regretted that he had called the meeting.
Checco resumed his speech.
‘Girolamo,’ he said, ‘the people from the country districts lately sent you a petition, in which they showed their sufferings from rain and storm and famine, their poverty and misery, the oppressiveness of the taxes. They bade you come and look at their untilled fields, their houses falling to ruin, themselves dying by the roadside, naked and hungry, children expiring at their mothers’ breasts, parents lying unburied in the ruin of their home. They bade you come and look at the desolation of the land, and implored you to help them while there was yet time, and lighten from their backs the burdens you had laid upon them.
‘You turned an eye of pity on them; and now the land smiles, the people have shaken themselves from their sleep of death, and awakened to new life, and everywhere prayers are offered and blessings rained on the head of the most high and magnificent prince, Girolamo Riario.
‘And we too, my Lord, join in the thanks and praise; for these to whom you have given new life are our cousins and brothers, our fellow-countrymen.’
What was coming? The councillors looked at one another questioningly. Could Checco have made terms with the Count, and was it a comedy they were playing? Girolamo also was surprised; he had not for long heard praise from any but his courtiers.
‘Eight years ago, when you acquired the sovereignty of Forli, you found the town weighed down under the taxes which the Ordelaffi had imposed. Depression had seized hold of the merchants and tradesmen; they were burdened so that they could not buy nor sell; they had given up effort, and the town was lying numb and cold, as if dying from a pestilence. The streets were deserted; such people as there were moved sadly, and with downturned faces. The inhabitants were becoming fewer; there was no motion, no life; a few years more and Forli would have become a city of the dead!
‘But you came, and with you life; for your first deed was to remove the most oppressive imposts. As the bow, doubled up, when the string is loosened shoots back with a sudden impulse which propels the arrow to its mark, so Forli rebounded from the weight it had borne before. The Goddess of Plenty reigned in the land; it was the sunlight after storm; everywhere life and activity! The merchant wrote busily at his desk, the tradesman spread his wares anew and laughed in the joy of his heart. The mason, the builder, the blacksmith returned to their work, and through the city was heard the sound of hammering and building. The news spread of a beneficent lord, and the goldsmith and silversmith, the painter, the sculptor, came to the city in throngs. The money passed from hand to hand, and in its passage seemed to increase by magic. On the faces of all was happiness; the apprentice sang as he worked, and mirth and joy were universal; Forli became known as the home of delight; Italy rang with its feasts and celebrations — and every citizen was proud to be a Forlivese.
‘And everywhere prayers were offered and blessings rained on the head of the most high and magnificent prince, Girolamo Riario.’
Checco paused again. An inkling of his meaning was coming to his hearers, but they dared not think he would say what was in all their minds.
‘Then,’ Checco went on, ‘you re-imposed the taxes which you had taken off.’
‘That is a lie!’ interrupted Girolamo. ‘They were imposed by the council.’
Checco shrugged his shoulders, smiling ironically.
‘I remember quite well. You called a meeting of the Ancients, and showing them your necessities, suggested that they should re-impose the taxes.
‘I forget if you reminded them that you could command, and that you were placed here by the Vicar of Christ on earth.
‘And you forebore to let us hear the ring of trumpets and the tramp of soldiery in the square. Nor did you think so numerous a suite necessary for your dignity.’
He looked round at the soldiers, thoughtfully stroking his beard.
‘Proceed!’ said Girolamo, impatiently; he was beginning to get angry.
Checco, in talking, had recovered the assurance which at first seemed to fail him. He smiled politely at the Count’s command, and said, —
‘I will come to the point at once.
‘You replaced the taxes which you had taken away, and thereby undid the benefit you had done. The town soon felt the effect of the change; its prosperity is already declining, and it is not doubtful that a few years more will bring it to the condition in which you found it. And who knows, perhaps its last state may be worse than its first?
‘And now you propose to make the townspeople pay the duties which you have taken off the countryfolk. You have sent for me to ask my advice on the subject, and here I give it you.
‘Do not put on, but take off. In the name of the people, I beseech you to do away with the taxes you imposed four years ago, and return to the happy state of the first years of your rule.’
He paused a moment, then with outstretched arm, pointing to the Count, he added solemnly, ‘Or Girolamo Riario, the magnificent prince, may share the fate of the Ordelaffi, who ruled the town for two centuries and now wander homeless about the land.’
There was a cry all round the room. They were astounded at his audacity. Girolamo had started in his chair — his eyes were staring, his face red; he was dumb with rage. He tried to speak, but the words died in his throat, and nothing was heard but an inarticulate murmur. The soldiers and courtiers were looking at one another in surprise; they did not know what to do or think; they looked at their master, but found no help in him. The citizens were bewildered, and by turns felt wonder, dismay, fear, pleasure; they could not understand....
‘Oh, Girolamo!’ said Checco, unmindful of the excitement round him, ‘I do not say these things in enmity to you.
Come among your people yourself, and see their wants with your own eyes. Do not believe what your courtiers tell you — do not think the land in your charge is a captured town, which you can spoil at your pleasure. You have been placed here as a guardian in our perils and an assistance in our necessities.
‘You are a stranger here; you do not know this people as I know it. They will be faithful, meek, obedient — but do not rob them of the money they have hardly earned, or they will turn against you. Forli has never supported an oppressor, and if you oppress them, beware of their wrath. What do you think are these soldiers of yours against the wrath of a people! And are you so sure of your soldiers? Will they take part for you against their fathers and brothers, their children?’
‘Be quiet!’ Girolamo had risen from his seat, and was standing with his arm threateningly upraised. He shouted so as to drown Checco, ‘Be quiet! You have always been against me, Checco,’ he cried. ‘You have hated me because I have overwhelmed you with bounty. There has never been trouble between me and my people but you have come to make them more bitter against me.’
‘You lie!’ said Checco, passionately.
‘Oh, I know you, Checco, and your pride! As Satan fell by pride, so may you, notwithstanding all your riches and power. You thought you were my equal, and because you found me your master you gnashed your teeth and cursed me.
‘By God, you would kill me if you could!’
Checco lost his calm, and gesticulating wildly shouted back at Girolamo.
‘I have hated you because you are a tyrant to this town. Are these not my fellow-citizens, my brothers, my friends? Have we not been together since childhood, and our fathers and grandfathers before us? And do you think I look upon them as you who are a stranger?
‘No; so long as you obtained money from the rich, I said nothing. You know what sums I have myself lent you; all that I freely give you. I do not want a penny of it back — keep it all. But when you have extorted the uttermost from us, and you turn to the poor and needy and rob them of their little, then I will not keep silence. You shall not impose these taxes on the people! And why is it you want them? For your riotous, insane extravagance; so that you may build yourself new palaces, and deck yourself in gorgeous robes, and buy diamonds and precious stones for your wife.’
‘Do not speak of my wife,’ interrupted the Count.
‘So that you may pile gold in the hands of the parasite who makes a sonnet in your praise. You came to us and begged for money; we gave it and you flung it away in feasts and riotry. The very coat you wear was made out of our riches. But you have no right to take the money of the people for these ignoble uses. You are not their master; you are their servant; their money is not yours, but yours is theirs. Your duty before God is to protect them, and, instead, you rob them.’
‘Be silent!’ broke in Girolamo. ‘I will hear no more. You have outraged me as no man has ever done without repenting it. You think you are all-powerful, Checco, but by God you shall find that I am more powerful!
‘Now go, all of you! I have had enough of this scene. Go!’
He waved his hand imperiously. Then, with a look of intense rage, he descended from his throne and, scowling, flung himself out of the room.
VIII
THE courtiers followed on their master’s heels, but the soldiers stood undecided. Ercole Piacentini looked at us, and spoke in an undertone to the Captain of the Guard. I thought they were discussing the possibility of boldly arresting Checco on the spot, which they doubtless knew would be a step very acceptable to Girolamo; but he was surrounded by his friends, and evidently, whatever Ercole and the Captain wished, they dared nothing, for the former quietly left the chamber, and the soldiers, on a whispered order, slid silently from the room like whipped dogs.
Then the excitement of our friends knew no bounds. I, at the end of the speech, had seized his hand and said, —
‘Well done.’
Now he was standing in the midst of all these people, happy and smiling, proud of the enthusiasm he had aroused, breathing heavily, so that a casual observer might have thought him drunk with wine.
‘My friends,’ he said, in answer to their praises, and his voice slightly trembled, so that his sincerity was conspicuous, ‘whatever happens, be sure that I will continue to uphold your rights, and that I will willingly give my life for the cause of justice and freedom.’
He was choked by the violence of his emotion, and could say nothing more.
The cries of approbation were renewed, and then, with an impulse to get into the open air, they surged out of the council chamber into the piazza. It was not exactly known what had passed in the Palace, but the people knew that Checco had braved the Count, and that the latter had broken up the meeting in anger. Wonderful rumours were going about: it was said that swords had been drawn, and there had almost been a battle; others said that the Count had tried to arrest Checco, and this story, gaining credence — some even saying that Checco was being kept a prisoner — had worked the citizens to fever height.
When Checco appeared, there was a great shout and a rush towards him. ‘Bravo!’ ‘Well done!’ I don’t know what they did not find to say in praise of him. Their enthusiasm grew by its own fire; they went mad; they could not contain themselves, and they looked about for something on which to vent their feeling. A word, and they would have attacked the Palace or sacked the custom-house. They surrounded us, and would not let us pass. Bartolomeo Moratini pushed his way to Checco and said, —
‘Quiet them quickly, before it is too late.’
Checco understood at once. ‘Friends,’ he said, ‘let me pass quietly, for the love of God, and do you return to your work in peace. Let me pass!’
Moving forward, the crowd opened to him, and still shouting, yelling and gesticulating, allowed him to go through. When we arrived at the gate of his palace, he turned to me and said, —
‘By God! Filippo, this is life. I shall never forget this day!’
The crowd had followed to the door, and would not go away. Checco had to appear on the balcony and bow his thanks. As he stood there, I could see that his head was whirling. He was pale, almost senseless with his great joy.
At last the people were persuaded to depart, and we entered the house.
We were in Checco’s private room. Besides the cousins and myself were present Bartolomeo Moratini and his two sons, Fabio Oliva and Cesare Gnocchi, both related on the mother’s side to the Orsi. We were all restless and excited, discussing the events that had occurred; only Bartolomeo was quiet and grave. Matteo, in the highest of spirits, turned to him.
‘Why so silent, Messer Bartolomeo?’ he said. ‘You are like the skeleton at the banquet.’
‘It is a matter for gravity,’ he answered.
‘Why?’
‘Why! Good God, man, do you suppose nothing has happened!’
We stopped talking and stood round him, as if suddenly awakened.
‘Our ships are burnt behind us,’ he proceeded, and we must advance — must!’
‘What do you mean?’ said Checco.
‘Do you suppose Girolamo is going to allow things to go on as before? You must be mad, Checco!
‘I believe I am,’ was the answer. ‘All this has turned my head. Go on.’
‘Girolamo has only one step open to him now. You have braved him publicly; you have crossed the streets in triumph, amid the acclamation of the people, and they have accompanied you to your house with shouts of joy. Girolamo sees in you a rival — and from a rival there is only one safeguard.’
‘And that — ?’ asked Checco.
‘Is death!’
We were all silent for a moment; then Bartolomeo spoke again.
‘He cannot allow you to live. He has threatened you before, but now he must carry his threats into effect. Take care!’
‘I know,’ said Checco, ‘the sword is hanging over my head. But he dare not arrest me.’
‘Perhaps he will try assassination. You must go out well guarded
.’
‘I do,’ said Checco, ‘and I wear a coat of mail. The fear of assassination has been haunting me for weeks. Oh God, it is terrible! I could bear an open foe. I have courage as much as anyone; but this perpetual suspense! I swear to you it is making me a coward. I cannot turn the corner of a street without thinking that my death may be on the other side; I cannot go through a dark corridor at night without thinking that over there in the darkness my murderer may be waiting for me. I start at the slightest sound, the banging of a door, a sudden step. And I awake in the night with a cry, sweating. I cannot stand it I shall go mad if it continues. What can I do?’
Matteo and I looked at one another; we had the same thought. Bartolomeo spoke.
‘Anticipate him!’
We both started, for they were my very words. Checco gave a cry.
‘You too! That thought has been with me night and day! Anticipate him! Kill him! But I dare not think of it. I cannot kill him.’
‘You must,’ said Bartolomeo.
‘Take care we are not heard,’ said Oliva.
‘The doors are well fastened.’
‘You must,’ repeated Bartolomeo. ‘It is the only course left you. And what is more, you must make haste — for he will not delay. The lives of all of us are at stake. He will not be satisfied with you; after you are gone, he will easily enough find means to get rid of us.’
‘Hold your peace, Bartolomeo, for God’s sake! It is treachery.’
‘Of what are you frightened? It would not be difficult.’
‘No, we must have no assassination! It always turns out badly. The Pazzi in Florence were killed, Salviati was hanged from the Palace windows, and Lorenzo is all-powerful, while the bones of the conspirators rot in unconsecrated ground. And at Milan, when they killed the Duke, not one of them escaped.’
Delphi Collected Works of W. Somerset Maugham (Illustrated) Page 17