The History of Rinaldo Rinaldini: Captain of Banditti

Rinaldo Rinaldini #1

by Christian August Vulpius

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Genres: German Literature, Literature

200 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1797

Reviews

[Lucinda Elliot · Rating 4 out of 5]

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS

The History of Rinaldo Rinaldini is probably the oldest robber novel. It is written in the Gothic tradition, and is melodramatic and to spare.

There is a hero Byronic before the term was invented, dashing, handsome, and brave, but tormented by guilt and his inability to escape his destiny as Chief of Bandits; there are ruined castles, a strange atmosphere of magic surrounding one of the characters, a guru known as The Old Man of Fronteja’, fixed battles between government troops or between rival brigands, a woman is kept captive in a dungeon accessible by a secret passage – it’s never explained why her wicked husband goes to such lengths rather than just caddishly deserting her – but anyway, she’s rescued by Rinaldo and his fellow brigand Ludovico (there’s some wonderful names in this!).

I was pleased to come across two stock characters I used myself in my Gothic ‘That Scoundrel Émile Dubois’ too, in the Ruffianly Devoted Follower (Ludovico in this, Georges in mine) and the Sinister Siren (Olympia in this, Ceridwen in mine). I didn’t have a secret passage leading to a dungeon in that – curses – nor does one feature in ‘Ravensdale’, but I’ll have to remember it as a Gothic cliché for future use.

Rinaldo is meant to be very intelligent, and for sure he does read sometimes, unusually in a robber chief. He can debate philosophical issues with a vengeance, and in fact, when we first meet him he is suffering from one of his periodic fits of conscience. I was struck by how excellent the writing is in this opening sentence, but unfortunately, here, as so often, the writing and action deteriorates into melodrama bordering on farce:

‘The boisterous winds rolled over the Appenines like the mountain waves of the ocean; and the lofty oaks bowed their lofty heads to the storm. Rinaldo and Altarverde had kindled a fire beneath a rock, and sat sheltered in a narrow dell….

Rinaldo: Once I was an innocent boy; but now –
Altarverde: You are in love.
Rindaldo: I am a Captain of Banditti…
Alterverde: Since you have been in love, one can hardly say a word to you…Have you not often been a more powerful protector of right and justice than the magistrates?…
Rinaldo: I tell you I can neither approve nor boast of my actions; and even should some of them be thought to deserve applause, yet the bad ones are far more numerous, and will doubtless some day bring me to the scaffold…’

I would say of many parts of this novel that it’s so bad, it’s good. For instance, the meeting in a ruined castle between Rinaldo and a leader of a rival group of banditti, Baptistello (another wonderful name) who has no problem in admitting to his feelings of inferiority:

Baptistello: I am Baptistello, captain of a formidable band of men who are the terror of the whole country…I am jealous of your fame; and this encounter can only end in the destruction of one of us.'

After a hard fight, the cad tries to cheat by drawing a pistol, but it misfires, and Rinaldo shoots him through the head and goes back to the arms of Rosalia, a gypsy girl whom he has bought as a slave but to whom he gallantly offers her freedom. She, needless to say, is already too much in love with him to be anything but a slave in fact if not in deed.

Rinaldo isn’t always so chivalrous; his treatment of a countess who, along with her party, mocks his reputation (he is in one of his infallible disguises) is rather shabby:

Rinaldo: You wished to see something of Rinaldini; you see him now…I have complied with your wish, and you must comply with mine, that of possessing your watches, your rings, and the trifling sum of one hundred sequins…’

I thought that was very ungallant of him, and one assumes she has hurt his pride. It is perhaps significant that he usually passes himself off as a baron or count, though he describes his origin as that of a ‘herder of goats’.

At other times he can be very tender in his relations with women (even if he does somehow manage to be in love with three – possibly four, at once), as in his seeing a picture of one of his true loves, another countess, Dianora, who, like Aurelia before her, has screamed and fainted on learning that he is a bandit, and afterwards left him in horror and repentance: ‘He hurried to the picture (of the countess), took it from the wall, and kissed it with ardour…’

When he finds out that Dianora has fled from him again, poor Rinaldo decides to kill himself, but his arm refuses to work and he sees a sinister black figure who has started to give him moral sermons regarding him sternly.

As these black robed figures, who cart about an assortment of joined skeletons by way of props, are subsequently revealed to be another crew of robbers, it is far from clear how their leader managed to effect this magic.

I wish I was an expert enough at IT to copy over the two illustrations which accompany this splendidly lurid classic which I could only obtain by buying on Amazon (the British library’s copy is reference only). It depicts a man with the most over developed thighs supporting a fainting woman with an astoundingly developed bosom, looking at her face with tender concern and showing a noble Grecian profile (it is interesting that this is in fact how Rinaldo is described in the book).

Meanwhile, the Old Man closes in inexorably, and now it is revealed that he has even recruited Rinaldo’s devoted follower Ludovico into his group dedicated to the overthrow of French rule in Corsica. I have to say, I had doubts about this. Ludovico strikes me as being the sort of villain who is devoted to individuals, not to abstract notions.

Anyway, poor Rinaldo hears that Rosalia is dead,and becomes even more despondent. He has no wish to find everlasting fame as a military leader, but wants either to live in obscurity or die.

Rinaldo decides to flee the Old Man Of Fronteja, and departs for a tiny island, where he leads a humble existence, living in the house of ‘An Old Woman’ (hardly old by our standards, as her youngest daughter is five).

Here he intends to spend his days in peace and repentance, but by a rather wild co-incidence, here he meets again The Countess, who it may be remembered had fled Rinaldo and her castle after their last reunion.

She tells him that she did so through the threats of the Skeleton Toting brigands, and having heard Rinaldo praying, decides, ‘Surely you are now become a good man…If heaven has decided to receive you into favour,how can I reject you?’ So, she forgives the Dreadful Chief of Bandits, and they plan to spend the rest of their days together in peace and tranquility.

During this time, we finally are given an account of how Rinaldo became a bandit. He came as he said, from a poor family and was a goat herd, but fell under the influence of ‘A Hermit’ who encouraged him to read accounts of heroics and left him a small sum of money when he disappeared. We are never told in so many words that this is the same person as the Old Man of Fronteja, but it obviously is. It is not explained, either, why Rinaldo fails to recognise him as this early mentor when he turns up in his life again. However, it is even possible that he does; we are only given occasional insight into the workings of Rinaldo’s mind; whether this reflects an eighteenth century lack of introspection or a fairly subtle use of mystery in portraying the character is anyone’s guess.

Rinaldo enlisted as a soldier, but having been guilty of subordination, was 'broken’ and took revenge by stabbing his superior officer.

I had always assumed that this horrible punishment was intended to be inevitably fatal,but perhaps he had only one limb broken. Anyway, he is very agile, so seems to have made a full recovery.

After this, he became a bandit, and for sure he has shown military flair in the way he organises the movements of his troops, the discipline, etc.

Then – naturally – the Old Man of Fronteja turns up again, and so does the incomprehensible Olympia. The Old Man protests that he has fallen under suspicion by Rinaldo’s old followers of having killed hm and he asks him to clear him of this suspicion, pointing out that he once saved Rinaldo’s life (possibly by far magic on the occasion when Rinaldo wanted to kill himself and held a pistol to his own head,but his arm was struck down).

Rinaldo and the Countess decide to evade him, but then the island is invaded by troops. Rinaldo decides to fight it out with them, but is distracted by seeing his old friend the Prince and his daughter, Rinaldo’s old love Aurelia in a nearby villa (this incredible co-incidence is never explained).

The troops come to take Rinaldo, the Old Man of Fronteja rushes in and stabs him, assuring him that he will save him the disgrace of execution as a bandit: ‘You ought to have been a hero, and became a robber. You would not forsake the course you had pursued, and your tutor could not behold you upon the scaffold.’

Rinaldo falls onto a couch next to Aurelia, who swoons.

However, the spirit of the ever faithful Rosalia has appeared to Rinaldo earlier, and pressed something against his chest which seems to work to ensure that Rinaldo survives this attack.

After this, he and The Old Man of Fronteja stand trial and are banished. Oddly enough, they go off to France, ironically, in view of the slight matter of their opposition to French rule in Corsica – and as best friends.

I don’t see why the Old Man of Fronteja was so confident that Rinaldo hadn’t given up being a bandit,but there we are. We never hear which – if any – of is lady loves Rinaldo invites to share his exile or what becomes of the Countess, Aurelia, Ludovico, Olympia, or others.

Rinaldo later, as an elderly man, takes part in the American War of Independence against ‘The Tyrant George the Third’ and settles there ‘in the peaceful enjoyment of rural life’.

Hmm. A strangely unsatisfactory conclusion to the story.It’s meant to be very moral, but I didn’t find it so, particularly, unless the moral is that ‘If you are a Gung Ho type, Please Become a Hero not a Bandit.’

I make no comment on the astounding hypocrisy of the sexual behaviour of Rinaldo, except to say that when two of his women friends become pregnant – both of the poor woman later miscarry – he is astounded…Slap round head.

[Torben · Rating 3 out of 5]

Als Hörbuch nicht sehr geeignet. Viele Figuren, Orte, Namen. Wenig zusammenhängende Geschichte, schnelle Schnitte zu Kurzhandlungen. Rinaldini dabei sehr passiv und als Spielball hin und her geworfen. Dazu viele Zufälle und Begegnungen mit Bekannten und ehemaligen Geliebten. Kein Wunder, dass auch Karl May den Roman mochte. Einer der erfolgreichsten Romane des 19. Jahrhundert...

[Forgoszel · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hogy ez mekkora könyv volt! Bár, a múlt században olvastam, mikor is szépen át lett dolgozva az ifjúság számára, a kommunista és szocialista értékeknek megfelelően, Szinnai Tivadar által. Nekem, a negyedik kiadás van meg, melyet Benkő Sándor illusztrációi díszítenek. Vicces, 22 forint volt anno a könyv:D Szerintem, már az is sokat elmond a sztoriról, hogy eredetileg 1797-ben született. 217 éves történetről van szó, ami még mindig megállja a helyét. Kiváncsi vagyok, hogy melyik mai író ponyváját fogják még 200 év múlva is olvasni. Talán, esetleg Rejtőjét, de még ez sem biztos.

[lézengő reader]

nem emlékszem rá, de asszem, tetszett ;)