which is a projecting tablet, with an inscription nearly effaced. In the
back, an ascending avenue through pine trees: in the centre a statue of
Charlemagne; on the base of which is written, "Charlemagne grants the
power of sanctuary and of pardon to the abbots of Corbey forever."_
_Enter_ Bernardo _and_ St. Clair _from the abbey._
_St. Clair._ Nay, brother, you're to blame. The church, the court, all
Germany, applaud the proud election of the monk Bellarmin; for Corbey
abbey was too long disgraced by our late worldly abbot's vices.
_Bern._ And our new abbot will retrieve its fame. The monk Bellarmin has
no worldly vice. Speak, for I know him not.
_St. Clair._ Not know Bellarmin!
_Bern._ I know some fourteen years are past, since, in the dead of
night, a stranger, faint with terror and distress, implor'd assistance
at our abbey-gate, and, in return for our protecting care, since join'd
our order. I know, beside, that stranger is Bellarmin. But for the rest,
what means that pallid cheek, the hollow eye, and those stern gloomy
looks, repelling sympathy, creating strong disgust.
_St. Clair._ Peace, peace, Bernardo!--he may have suffered wrongs, but
never has committed them; and firm in conscious dignity and honour,
Bellarmin may have spirit to revive what former abbots, truckling to
authority; what servile priesthood, dreading lordly power, so long has
suffer'd to lie dormant--the edict of our mighty founder, the edict of
immortal Charlemagne! [_Pointing to the tablet._
_Bern._ He, our new abbot! he restore our abbey's ancient and peculiar
charter! (_pointing to the tablet._) St. Clair, he dare not, for guilt
and courage ne'er had joint abode.
_St. Clair._ Guilt!
_Bern._ Ay; why ever, else, on naming the return of our brave warriors
from the holy land, does he betray such latent anger? And, when, last
night, 'twas thought their presence would increase the glory of his
installation, why such avowed and rancorous opposition? He bears about
him hidden discontent, and I will fathom to the lowest depth this most
mysterious being! Mark! he comes! observe! observe! [_They retire
up the stage._
_Enter_ Abbot, _through the avenue._
_Abbot._ Oh thou! who know'st my undivulged thoughts! who know'st how
long and fervently I've prayed to root from memory all suffering past,
and dwell with gratitude on present blessings, let me but practise what
I daily preach, thy brightest attribute forgiveness, and wrong'd
Bellarmin shall convince the world, that though their censure stung him
to the heart, he feels their kindness with redoubled warmth! He does!
the gnawing viper is, at last, extinct! and this auspicious day is
herald of his future calm repose!
_St. Clair._ Now, now, Bernardo, where's the discontent? (_advancing
towards the abbot._) My lord, well met! and whilst all bless the hour
the emperor ratified our choice, we much rejoice your honours cease not
with your late election--Today installs you in your envied seat;
tomorrow shall behold you still more grac'd; for the free knights shall
then elect you to the highest rank in their exalted council!
_Bern._ Ay; in that sacred council which our holy brotherhood so
reverence, and so dread.
_Abbot._ 'Tis well--'tis well--thus chosen abbot of your own free will,
not by my seeking, as ye all can witness; for this, and greater favours
past, I'm bound forever to obey, and serve ye! Today, I'll welcome
these, our sacred rites; tomorrow, far more awful ceremony! I will
descend to the mysterious knights, and prove to those, who vest me with
authority, no selfish passion lurks within my breast! 'Tis past! it is
subdued! and whilst life lasts, I will devote that life to ever crushing
my own narrowed wishes, and courting the superior joy of aiding and
promoting general welfare.
_Voice_ (_without._) Help! for mercy! help!
_Abbot._ The voice of one distressed! Unbar the gates--give them free
entrance.
[_St. Clair opens the gate--Agnes rushes in._
_Agnes_ (_falling at the abbot's feet._) Protect me! save me! I'm
pursued, o'ertaken;
_Bern._ (_suddenly._) Pursued!--
_Ag._ No--not pursued--I scarce know what I utter--my friend, my kind
protecting friend! who was conducting me through yonder forest,
compell'd to leave me by strong urgent circumstance, bade me seek
shelter in this holy pile, till one he named could hasten to my
relief--and you'll consent! You pious men must feel, that virtue never
seems more lovely, than when her arm is stretched to raise the helpless
and unfortunate.
_Ab._ (_raising her._) Rise; and, till your friend arrive, confide in
one, who train'd in dire misfortune's school, can keenly feel for
others.
_Bern._ My lord, reflect. She own'd she was pursued, and in these
perilous, these disastrous times, shall strangers be thus welcom'd? I
would hear further.
_Ab._ What further would you hear? Sorrow in any shape, should meet with
pity; but when it supplicates in female form, we dry its tears, nor wait
to ask what caus'd them! Unknown! unquestion'd, I found welcome here,
and none yet know the story of my wrongs; why, therefore pry into her
hidden grief? 'tis harsh, it is unmanly! come. [_Trumpet, sounds
without._
_Bern._ Now, who was harsh in forewarning? Know ye that awful sound?
Know ye the free knight's summons? (_goes to the abbey gate._) Come
forth, and vindicate the cause of those who justify the Christian faith.
(_Monks enter from the abbey._) Lo! the accused! [_Pointing to Agnes._
_Ag._ (_to the abbot._) Do not desert me! On my soul I'm innocent.
_Ab._ (_who has turn'd from her._) Away! you have profaned our hallow'd
ground! And thus, pursued by those, whose mandates all submissive
sanction, I am no more your friend. Begone!
_Ag._ (_clinging to him._) Is mine the age for plotting death by subtle
poison? Is mine the sex for treason and conspiracy? And if I am the
daughter of the count Manfredi, am I to answer for my wretched father's
crimes.
_Ab._ Manfredi's daughter.
[_Turning towards her with emotion._
_Bern._ (_opening the garden gate._) Behold! read there! (_pointing to
the banner, and reading._) "Condemn'd traitress! Agnes Manfredi appear!"
_Ab._ Manfredi _had_ no daughter! Speak, e'er my brain burst! his
name--the name of your accuser?
_Ag._ I dread to utter it, for all approve what the prince Palatine
affirms.
_Ab._ (_apart._) I thought it was subdued--I said the gnawing viper was
extinct; but since it cross my path again, may the fulfillment of this
new atrocious act be most important to his purpose! For let the vassal
world bow down to his imperious will, alone I'll blast the deadly
scorpion's wiles, and snatch one victim from his fiend-like fury!
Manfredi's daughter! False! false as your accuser's heart! and knowing
that, 'tis joy, 'tis transport to protect you.
[_Taking Agnes's hand._
_St. Clair._ Horror! Protect her.
_Bern._ All gracious powers! thus in defiance of our sacred champions.
_Ab._ Hear me. If the tribunal be composed of high, unblemished, and
enlightened minds, who meet to render free impartial justice, however
ungracious be their forms, those forms 'twere idle to oppose; but if
they thus condemn--if private malice beat down public good--if made a
vehicle to gratify tyrannic power, they prove a midnight sanguinary
band; I, sacred champion of the Christian cause, will give a bright
example of its justice, by baffling those who prostitute its name.
_Bern._ This is Bellarmin! this the pious monk! who boasted of promoting
general welfare, and now commences his career by plunging us in ruin.
But shall we patiently submit to be involved in his most impious
rashness? or shall we instantly dismiss the culprit? and, as we ought,
give the free knights the quickest means of vengeance?
_St. Clair._ For this ingratitude, all join Bernardo.
_Bern._ (_seeing that all take part with him._) All!
_Abbot._ Hold! I implore ye! My motives known, no censure will await me!
But, till they are, confide in one who, if before he felt unceasing
gratitude for all your kindness, what must he now? when, like
yourselves, he can exalt his abbey's fame, by once more sheltering in
its holy walls, a wrong'd unhappy, persecuted being!
_Ag._ (_appealing to the monks._) Unhappy! most unhappy!
_Bern._ In vain, in vain; for every where the free knights see; and
seeing, every where approach, and oft by such mysterious paths, that
magic-like, they flash on the pursued. Hark! behold! (_a party of free
knights are seen descending the avenue of pine trees._) Guard well the
gate! for all who seek not to secure the culprit, partake the crime, and
share in the destruction.
[Zastrow _advancing, his vizor half up: the other knights remaining
behind the trees._
_Zast._ Behold! the traitress!
_Ab._ (_coming between Zastrow and Agnes._) On one false charge
condemn'd, I trust, I'm confident of all she's innocent. (_Zastrow still
advancing._) Nay, ye, who boast yourselves avenging knights, recall
these chivalrous heroic times, when knighthood's lance aveng'd a better
cause, and flew to guard, and not destroy, such helplessness! Reflect,
beside, that love for what's divine (_pointing to heaven_) inspires the
soul with love for what is human! and whilst religion, with the
brightening sun, shines forth to gladden and improve, dark superstition,
like the cankering blight, infects and withers every social hope! You
pass not further; on my life you pass not!
_Zast._ Advance! (_free knights rush forward and seize Agnes_) and as ye
are commanded (_pointing to the banner_) strike!
_Abbot._ And as ye are commanded (_pointing to the inscription on the
statute of Charlemagne_) spare!--you know my power!--(_to the
monks_)--you know the edict of our mighty founder, victorious
Charlemagne! who, in return for laurels won upon this spot, first raised
our abbey, to commemorate conquest; and soon endowing it with right of
sanctuary, next gave the abbot the more blest prerogative of granting
pardon, where he saw just cause! I see it now! I claim my abbey's
privilege! I stand upon my founder's edict! and kings! laws! armies!
must support the man, who, struggling for a sacred right, asserts
mankind's and heaven's inspiring cause! (_the free knights unloose their
hold of Agnes, who crosses to the abbot; and the monks, by their manner
evince conviction._) No more I sue for your support--(_to the
monks_)--now I command it!--And ye, fam'd foes to sacreligious
outrage!--(_to the free knights_)--proclaim that this, my post assigned
to me by providence, I will maintain or perish in the conflict! Lead to
the sanctuary--away!
[_Music._--Agnes _thanks the_ Abbot, _who cheers and encourages her._
Free knights _ascend the avenue, and disappear._ Monks _exeunt into the
abbey._ Abbot _following with_ Agnes.
_End of Act II._
ACT III
SCENE I.--_View of corbey abbey, open country and chateau._
_Enter countess_ Roland _and attendants._
_Count._ How fortunate! how very fortunate! Whilst I was in pursuit of
that low wretch, call'd Christopher, I call'd in at the marquis
Alberti's, and heard the welcome news, that my nephew, count Roland, and
his falconers were almost instantly expected! Charming! delightful! tho'
I didn't see him when he visited Roland castle--though this will be our
first, I trust it won't be our last meeting; for, in my mind, his real
motive is not to see the good old marquis, but a young fair one, called
Ulrica. Oh! if it prove as I suspect, I'll match these hesitating
Ravensburgs!
[_Going into the chateau._
Oliver _enters from it._
_Ol._ Oh, madam, I'm so glad you're come, for what with the prince, and
the baron being absent, and my poor Agnes not yet return'd and the poor
lock'd up lady Ulrica yonder (_pointing to a window in the chateau_)
sighing for her cousin Christopher! I was just saying, anybody's company
would be better than nobody's.
_Count._ Cousin Christopher, the unknown impostor I'm in search of. And
after I have so convinced the baron!--
_Ol._ I know--I know you have convinced the baron, that you've no poor
Franconia relations; but I do say, as the lady Ulrica has no objection,
I wish this Christopher were her husband, (_countess frowns._) I do; for
in that case, she not being able to marry my young master, and my young
master being able to marry Agnes, I should see what I hav'n't seen since
I lost my sweet Seraphina! a real happy handsome couple.
_Count._ Show me in, Sir; and instead of chattering about my pretended
nephew Christopher, talk of my real nephew, count Roland! who, though to
me a stranger, is none to the lady Ulrica, as you call her. (_Horns
without._) Hark! he comes! count Roland comes! and, as I thought--see!
towards Ulrica's residence! to sigh and moan under his true-love's
window!--Now for it. I'll just step in, and give further orders for
pursuing this sham nephew, Christopher; and then, if I don't match old
baron Ravensburg, and his capricious son, say I'm no match-maker.
_Exit into the chateau, preceded by Oliver._
_Enter count_ Roland _and 1st Falconer._
_Count._ Behold the beauties of this far-fam'd spot, and foremost to
delight the traveller's eye, yon venerable Abbey! founded by him whose
laurels shall for ever bloom.
_1st. Falc._ And see, my lord, yonder is the marquis Alberti's chateau.
_Count._ Happy Alberti! who having brav'd the perils of the ocean, now
finds a haven in his faithful Ella's love. Oh! I shall ne'er forget the
day they parted, nor that tempestuous night, when many a shipwreck'd
mariner was lost.
SONG--_Count._
I.
Says Ella to her love, "remember
Though doom'd to part, you constant view
That moon, which rises in such splendour,
I too, will look, and think of you.
Anxious Ella shall not sleep
Whilst her sailor braves the deep."
II.
But tempestuous is the weather,
And lovely Ella's wish is crost,
Vain her watching nights together,
Successive moons in clouds are lost.
Stormy winds the forests sweep,
Whilst her sailor braves the deep.
III.
Swift to the shore she flies, complaining;
The tempest to her pray'r is deaf;
When lo! that orb she's so arraigning,
Shines forth, and shows her lover safe.
Now no more shall Ella weep,
For her sailor's brav'd the deep.
_Enter all the_ Falconers.
_Count._ Now for my friend Alberti's, and there learn more of this same
countess Roland.
_Enter_ Christopher.
_Chris._ My lord, I have announced your coming, and the marquis is all
impatience. But what do you think? When I sent up your lordship's
message, who should be of the party but my aunt, the countess? And one
of the marquis's retinue wanted me to take courage, and go up to
her--"for," says he, "if she has'n't seen you since you were a boy, and
she took up your cousin, Ulrica, on account of her uncommon beauty, who
knows, if she once saw you----" You understand, my lord--I'm certainly
improved.
(_Pulling up his collar._)
_Count._ Improv'd! So much, that at first sight, my life on't, you'll
charm the countess.
_Chris._ His words! his very words! and I certainly charmed Ulrica! But
then--psha! ridiculous!--you all flatter!--and aunt's there!--(_pointing
to the chateau_)--and Ulrica's there!--and tonight makes her wife to
that old pedigreed--(_here the countess appears at the door of the
chateau unobserved, looks out, and listens._) So go all of ye--go to the
marquis Alberti's, and leave me to sob and sigh--Oh, sweet Ulrica!--Oh!
h! ha!
_Count._ Well, as it suits--and so good night, most noble love-sick
swain.
_Falc._ Good night, most noble nephew of the countess Roland.
[_Bowing as before, and with_ count _exeunt_ falconers. Christopher
_with his back to the_ countess, _bows in return--She advances from
chateau all joy and triumph, and exultingly goes towards him--countess
advancing from the house._
_Count._ (_aside and unseen by Christopher._) So, most noble nephew of
the countess Roland.
_Chris._ Oh, sweet Ulrica! Oh, most savage--(_turns, and comes against
countess._) Mercy! do I see right?
_Count._ You see your aunt, the countess Roland, who regrets extremely
she didn't see you on your last visit--but you saw Ulrica; and if, as I
presume, you come once more to see her--(_Christopher more and more
frightened._) You do; your looks, your fears, your agitation proves it;
and to end at once yours, hers, and my anxiety--Ulrica!
_Chris._ Don't--don't alarm the family! Upon my honour. (_appealing._)
_Count._ When I selected the son of baron Ravensburg, I hadn't the honor
of knowing my charming nephew. (_curtsying very low, Christopher
staring, and beginning to brighten up._) But now I do know him! lest the
baron should return and spoil the present glorious opportunity--Ulrica!
(_Ulrica appears at the window._) Look, who's here--and at first sight,
he has so won my favour; and so excells these paltry Ravensburgs, that,
if you choose to be released, and instantly receive my dear lov'd
nephew's suit----
_Ul._ I'll try, aunt.
_Count._ And you! (_to Christopher._)
_Chris._ I'll try, aunt.
_Count._ (_hastily going to the door of the chateau._) Oliver! the
priest has long been waiting. (_to Christopher._)
_Chris._ (_going to the door and calling loudly._) Oliver!
_Enter_ Oliver
Show in the nephew of the countess Roland. (_Oliver shows astonishment,
and looks at the countess, who nods assent._) You see! Conduct me to my
lov'd betrothed Ulrica. (_countess nods assent, and gives Christopher
the key of Ulrica's apartment._) You see! Lead on, my little twaddling
old butler. Lol de rol, lel lol! (_exit, kissing his hand to countess
and Ulrica, and making Oliver go in before him._)
_Count._ There! There's match-making, and here----
_Enter_ baron Ravensburg _and attendants._
So, sir--have you found your runaway son?
_Bar._ I have, countess--I've trac'd him to Corbey abbey, and he's so
closely pursued, that I shall soon employ the priest now, and make
amends for my low suspicions about that rascally impostor! that fellow,
with his Franconian express! I know, except your niece----
_Count._ (_haughtily._) I have a nephew, Sir, a nephew now in the
chateau, whose name you may have heard. Count Roland, sir.
_Bar._ In my--in my chateau? I've seen--I know count Roland--and such a
guest I so rejoice to welcome. (_going hastily towards the door; Oliver
re-enters meeting him._)
_Ol._ And I rejoice! and my lady, my young master, and Agnes may
rejoice! for the priest, quite worn out with waiting for one couple, is
now marrying another--is marrying the lady Ulrica to your nephew! He!
he! he!
_Bar._ (_to countess._) Marrying Ulrica to your nephew.
_Count._ To _my_ nephew, sir--to a man as far above the Ravensburgs in
rank, as in accomplishments!
_Ul._ (_throwing open the window_) aunt! we're married aunt!
_Count._ Transporting sight! There! (_to the baron._) Married to her
cousin, great count Roland!
_Chris._ (_putting his head out of the window._) No, to me! to cousin
Christopher! who said, all along, that aunt would be as kind to poor, as
rich relations! and who on the baron's giving him his choice, this
morning walked _out_ of the chateau; but, now, having sent the promised
express, and expecting all his Franconia cousins, says, "in," till the
honey-moon's over!
[_Shutting the window immediately, and he and Ulrica disappear._
_Bar._ There he is again! there's the nephew of the countess Roland!
_Count._ 'Tis false! and I'll be instantly reveng'd!
_Bar._ And so will I?
[_As they are going into the chateau._
QUINTETTO.
_Bar._ Rage inspires me.
_Count._ Madness fires me.
_Both._ I'll the slave to pieces tear!
_Enter_ Oliver _from the house._
_Ol._ Sorrow banish,
Anger vanish,
Come and bless the wedded pair!
_Count._ Plague,
_Bar._ Confound,
_Both._ The wedded pair!
_Enter_ Ulrica _from the house._
_Ul._ As late I travers'd yonder plain,
I heard a pilgrim worn with pain,
A trav'ller thus addressing:
"What can't be cur'd
Must be endur'd,
But pray, kind friend, your blessing."
_Chris. at_ } "What can't be cur'd
_the window._ } Must be endur'd,
} But pray, kind friend, your blessing."
_Ul._ You hear (_to baron_)--and you (_to countess._)
_Bar._ } We do! we do!
_Count._ }
_Ul._ And you agree! (_coaxing them._)
I see--I see!
We've liberty!
_All._ Love, true love is crown'd with glory!
_Viva--viva con amore!_
[_Exeunt._
SCENE II.--_The interior of the abbey._
_Enter the_ abbot _and_ Agnes.
_Ab._ An unknown orphan, named Agnes Lindorf, by him, your benefactor!
_Ag._ By baron Ravensburg, whose son has so befriended me. But I detain
you from most urgent duty. The great, the good, all, all advance to
grace your installation.
_Ab._ They do. But he, this baron, you suspect may know the motive for
your accusation? (_Agnes accords._) Oh that I knew! for I would court
each, the most trifling circumstance, still further to destroy your fell
accuser's hopes. Well, well, they are destroyed! Long ere this dark
tribunal had a name, ages had sanction'd our monastic rights. And let
but your protecting friend arrive, you may pass free from this devoted
land, to one where unmask'd justice sits in open day, and prince and
peasant meet with equal hearing.
_Ag._ We may, we may--and live to recompense thy matchless kindness.
But still these awful these enrag'd avengers! Why, why does he delay?
_Enter_ St. Clair.
_St. Clair._ My lord, a stranger!
_Ag._ (_looking out._) 'Tis he! 'tis Ravensburg!
[_Exit St. Clair._
_Enter_ Ravensburg.
Welcome! Oh welcome! Behold the man (_pointing to the abbot_) who
scorning prejudic'd, corrupt compliance--(_Ravensburg turns away, and
hides his face._) Hah! that look! those tears!
_Rav._ For thee they fall, and for thy more than father! I've watch'd,
I've hasten'd from my fell associates--(_abbot starts_)--Ay, I, by oath,
am sworn to be the deadly foe of Agnes, and of all who give her aid. But
when I know that she deserves that aid, and that this boasted
institution's power is made subservient to such lawless crime, as
ancient record of tyrannic guilt can give no proof of, I trust that he,
who boldly shall retract such oath, is deem'd less guilty in the eye of
Heaven, than he who cowardly fulfills it. This for myself--for you, who,
singly, have oppos'd this hydra of rapacious power, and in a glorious
cause, claim'd the just right of sanctuary and of pardon--how will you
meet the tenfold horrors that will soon burst forth on till within these
walls!
_Ag._ On all!
_Ab._ They cannot--dare not!
_Rav._ They dare! for her escape discover'd, they sent forth sanguinary
knights, who soon return'd, and in full council stated, that one, most
nobly acting on his founder's edict, defied their power, and pardon'd
the condem'd! All murmur'd, and all menac'd! till I, declaiming on the
glaring outrage of those, who call'd themselves a sacred band, disputing
sacred rights, had gain'd some proselytes, when the prince Palatine
appear'd, and, like the torrent from the mountain's brow, assailed each
obstacle, and swept down all before him!
_Ab._ (_after a struggle._) Well! the result?
_Rav._ Most savage, most inevitable! for while in force they come to
claim their victim, you, and the brotherhood, are all proscribed for
treason and for sacrilege!
_Ag._ And this! this havoc is my causing! mine! a poor orphan! whose
death no kindred will deplore, whilst the whole world will mourn my kind
defender's loss! My lord, 'tis past! lov'd friend, farewell! and if one
victim will appease their rage, I'll hail the sacrifice, and die
contented. [_Going._
_Ab._ (_stopping her._) Die first this hated despot! who, ever,
fiend-like, strikes his envious fangs, where Heaven most loves, and
man's most bound to guard! I pardon! I give sanctuary! and whilst one
spark of ebbing life glows here, whilst one small fragment of these
walls remain, that fragment may be stained with dire assassin's blood!
but a poor orphan, who, I know is innocent, shall live to soar and
triumph o'er her foes! Let them advance! ourselves, our abbey, can
support some contest, and youn pright power! that watches o'er the
virtuous, will combat in our cause!--(_drums and trumpets heard at a
short distance._) Hark! they come!
_Ag._ They do! they do! and see! the prince, in person, leads the
furious band! Look! there! behold!
[Ravensburg _looks out._ Abbot _turns away._
_Ab._ Not, not for worlds, lest, maddening at the sight, I lose all
memory of holy function, and rush to strike the murderer of my peace
dead in his army's presence! Villain! barbarian!----(_weeps._) Oh! the
day has been, when these, fair nature's brightest gems, hung on my cheek
as emblems of pure sympathy! But now, like drops of fire, they serve to
light the brand of discord and revenge!--come--to the sanctuary!
_Rav._ Unequall'd man! fit guardian of such rights--speak! can my arm--
_Ab._ (_taking him aside._) Your father--mark--your father may have
heard why she is called Manfredi's daughter. I would know this, and all
that you can learn. Now, whilst there's hope, away--and this (_giving
him a key_) secures your private entrance through the western gate upon
the river's edge.
_Rav._ I'll seek my father, ascertain each fact, and, fear not, Agnes!
the pangs of parting will be paid at meeting!
_Ab._ 'Twill do! 'twill prosper! And my great founder's edict thus
revived--should they persist in prostituting justice's name, I will
throw wide my abbey-gates, and pardoning all they dare proscribe, make
it a bulwark 'gainst the common foe! Come--away! [_Exeunt._
SCENE III.--_a road near Corbey._
_Enter_ Christopher.
_Chris._ So, this is the place of meeting--from hence we were to start
for Franconia--and not here! Ulrica not yet come! Mighty well! our
marriage but an hour old, and keep her husband waiting!
_Enter_ Ulrica.
So, you begin, madam--you torment already.
_Ul._ Why, if I do torment, Christopher its only to please you the
more--it is upon my honour.
_Chris._ Please by tormenting! how, madam?
_Ul._ Ay, ask the god of love, if it isn't--
_Chris._ Yes; but where am I to find him?
_Ul._ True--where is love to be found?
SONG--_Ulrica._
I.
Where does the urchin love abide?
Whence does he point his dart?
Say, does he with the doves reside?
Or dwells he in the heart?
II.
No fixt abode the traitor knows--
On sportive wings he flies;
Awhile he dallies with the rose,
Then smiles in lovers' eyes.
_Chris._ He does--in mine; and now I'll tell you--'Tis all out, and I've
within me the true, real Roland blood. It seems, the strange old count
had privately made aunt his wife; but his estate descending with his
title, she thought she might support her rank, by getting for her niece
a famous husband--and she has got one, hasn't she, Ulrica?
_Ul._ She has--but, seriously, think not that I staid from idle motives.
Poor Agnes has found shelter in Corbey abbey; but the prince and the
avenging knights, march in full force to batter down its walls.
_Chris._ Indeed!
_Ul._ Now--now I heard it from the noble Ravensburg, who seeks his
father, to hear the whole of Agnes's hapless story. And my aunt's
influence no more prevailing, perhaps the baron will relent--at least, I
hope so.
_Chris._ So do I--and we won't stir.
_Ul._ No, not while one glimmering hope remains of Agnes's safety and
her foes' defeat.
_Chris._ No, that we won't--but go, and plead in her behalf. [_Kissing_
Ulrica's _hand._
_Ul._ That I will; and doubt not, Christopher--Heaven still will guard
the unprotected orphan!
[_Exit._
_Chris._ Never--never was couple so match'd! so much alike in all that's
amiable and lovely! Oh, when we arrive in Franconia! I know one of our
neighbours, who will be all envy--baron Donderdronckdickdorff; for
though his wife treats him with the most sovereign contempt, he is still
obliged to look up to her.
SONG--_Christopher._
I.
Baron Donderdronckdickdorff said, one summer's day,
"Tho' wedlock's a word that revolts,
Whatever our folks in Westphalia may say,
I've a great mind to marry miss Quoltz.
For of all the dear angels that live near the Weser,
Miss Quoltz is the stoutest and tallest;
Tho' of all German barons ambitious to please her,
I know I'm the shortest and smallest."
How I should like the marriage waltz
To dance with thee, my lovely Quoltz!
II.
Poor Donderdronckdickdorff, with amorous phiz,
On tiptoe imparted his flame,
"Ah! baron!" she sigh'd, "what a pity it is,
You are not half so long as your name!"
"If names," said the baron, "were smaller or bigger,
To suit ev'ry size at a pinch,
Your name, dear miss Quoltz, to keep up to your figure,
Wou'd measure six foot and an inch."
How I should like, &c.
III.
The wedding-day fix'd, both the parties agreed,
That the peasants should dance German waltzes,
And drink to the future mix'd long-and-short breed
Of the Donderdronckdickdorffs and Quoltzes.
To the church, then, on foot, went the ace with his size--
"What's this crowd for?" cries one of the people.
"For a baron, who's taking," an arch wag replies,
"A morning's walk under the steeple."
How I should like, &c.
IV.
Before supper, one knight, ere the honey-moon fled,
They so quarrell'd some wives wou'd have struck him;
But the baroness took up the lord of her bed,
And over the chimney-piece stuck him.
As the servant came in, said the baron, "you clown,
Not a word when the guests come to sup:
I have only been giving my wife a set-down,
And she giving me a set-up."
How I should like, &c. [_Exit._
SCENE IV.--_The grand aisle of the abbey, in the upper part of the
sanctuary._
_Enter_ Bernardo, St. Clair, _and two other monks._
[_Flourish of drums and trumpets without._
_Bern._ You hear! Soon the victorious foe will force our walls; for, can
they long sustain the shock of such an host? Or if they could--for what?
for whom? Are we agreed?
_St. Clair._ We are: in a just cause we would uphold our abbot's rights;
but when such judges have prounounc'd her traitress, and such brave
warriors will support that judgment, shall we, upon the word of one who
will adduce no proof of innocence--we, the calm advocates of peace, not
war--shall we devote our abbey and ourselves to ruin most inevitable?
_Bern._ No, haughty prelate! we will teach you now, that those who
raised you to your splendid height, have still the power to humble and
to crush you. And they who this night come to grace your installation,
shall view their idol's downfall. Unbar the gates! (_the abbot appears
in the aisle, unseen by the monks._) Give the prince palatine free
entrance; and let the vengeance of the secret knights fall, as it ought,
on those who have provoked it.
_Ab._ (_advancing hastily from the aisle._) Who's he dare utter such
profane commands?
_Bern._ Bellarmin! I!--Unbar the gates!
_Ab._ Forbear! And think not, brothers, that I court this contest, or
willingly involve ye in hard office. But we, who vested with bright
mercy's power, can feel the bliss of sparing the unfortunate; shall we,
when barbarism, mask'd by pious, plausible pretext, strikes at the
growth of every liberal feeling; shall we forego our edict, or uphold
it? I say, uphold it! And chiefly on one proof--Manfredi had no
daughter! That charge I know to be most groundless.
_Bern._ You knew Manfredi then! (_abbot shows agitation._) He, our new
oracle, proclaims he was no stranger to this murderer.
_Ab._ (_with suppressed indignation._) Murderer!
_Bern._ The worst of murderers! False to the man who raised him from low
fortune--false to his patron, the brave prince Palatine!
_Ab._ To him!
_Bern._ To him! Who on his brother's, the late prince's death, anxious
to see and guard that brother's child, then some leagues distant from
the court, despatched Manfredi, as his trustiest friend to be the
princess's escort; when, on the way, most artfully dismissing all her
train, and mov'd not by the smile of infant innocence, mixing
ingratitude with traitorous cruelty, this foe to virtue, but Bellarmin's
friend, plung'd his fell poniard in Theresa's heart, and fled, and died
the victim of despair.
_Ab._ Wert thou a winged messenger from Heaven, my father's spirit, nay,
e'en fate itself! I'd tell you, vile detractor, it is false! false as
_thy_ friend, the brave prince palatine! who fired by daring and
ambitious views, besought Manfredi to remove the bar 'twixt him and
sovereignty. Manfredi yielded to _protect_ his charge, and artfully
dismissed the princess's train to bear her to a friendly foreign court;
when galling, dire reverse! in a dark covert on the Danube's banks,
outlaws affected what her foes desired--Theresa fell--(_speaking
rapidly_)--A prey to grief and disappointed hope, Manfredi fled--Yon
fell usurper gained the wish'd-for seat!
_Bern._ Usurper!
_Ab._ Fiend! coward! traitor! Who, to destroy Manfredi's evidence,
sought his destruction;--who, by false statement and concurring
circumstance, secur'd his triumph--who still comes forth to immolate
more innocence! and Corbey's abbot is to share in the new sacrifice! No,
though our order teaches resignation--yet teaching fortitude and love of
virtue, my founder's spirit shall inspire my soul, and once more
Charlemagne shall vanquish here!
_Bern._ Audacious, impious slanderer! Compare ennobled and established
worth with such confirm'd disgrace--(_flourish of drums and trumpets,
and noise of walls falling_)--They force the outworks! Instant aid their
entrance! and hail the downfall of such perjured arrogance!
_St. Clair._ Come!
_Ab._ (_getting between them and the gates._) St. Clair! Bernardo! who
once call'd me friend! and who, on sudden impulse, have drawn forth what
I so long and anxiously kept secret, will you desert me at this awful
moment? or, to the last contending for our abbey's rights, implore these
warriors from the holy land, not to take arms against a sacred cause!
She's wrong'd, she's innocent.
_Bern._ 'Tis false--most false!
_Enter_ Ravensburg.
_Rav._ My lord, all's lost! The savage and inveterate foe have storm'd
the walls, and rush to glut their vengeance.
_Ab._ (_to Ravensburg apart._) And from your father! None--no hope?
_Rav._ None! He merely states, that dreading he might lose her, who'd
supply a daughter's loss; and fearing to increase an orphan's grief, he
cautiously concealed, how, one autumnal night some fourteen years ago,
he saw upon the Danube's banks, an infant seemingly expiring. He
snatch'd it--sav'd it! and what the mystery might solve, if now such
mystery were worth solving--this scarf (_producing it_) encircled
her.--(_Abbot takes the scarf with great eagerness._)--But all is past!
and Agnes, dear lov'd Agnes, by the father saved, the son must instantly
behold destroyed.
_Ab._ (_after having gazed on the scarf with the greatest emotion._)
Eternal Providence! Theresa! princess! Oh, great God of
Nature!--(_rushing into the sanctuary._)
_Rav._ Theresa!--Mighty heaven!
[_Flourish. The gates are forced._
_Enter the_ prince Palatine, free knights, Crusaders, _and_ soldiers.
_Prin._ First seize yon renegade! (_free knights seize Ravensburg_) next
force the sanctuary!--(_free knights and soldiers enter the sanctuary by
force_) and then no more on others shall her fate depend. This
arm----(_knights and soldiers bring Agnes from the sanctuary to the
front, all the characters following_)--Now, while all thoughts are
deadened in my heated brain, but those of fury and revenge--thus treason
falls, and the vile traitress dies. [_Seizing Agnes, and going
to stab her with his sword._
_Ab._ (_behind the crowd._) Forbear! she is your rightful princess!
_Prin._ Merciful powers! who dare e'n breathe--
_Ab._ (_rushing through the crowd, and approaching the prince._) Here,
in these hallowed aisles; here, in the face of Heaven, and of man, by
all your hopes of future preservation, avow your treason, and your
sovereign's wrongs, detested, treacherous, murderous villain!--(_prince
much agitated._) See, guilt is on him! Now, ye who had no faith (_to the
monks_) and ye who trample upon sacred rights (_to the free knights_)
behold how sacred justice is displayed! There's the usurper, sinking
with remorse, and here Manfredi, shedding tears of joy at his regain'd,
belov'd Theresa's feet! [_The_ prince _lets his sword fall, and reclines
on the arm of_ Walbourg. Ravensburg _flies to_ Agnes, _and takes her
from the_ free knights. Abbot _kneels on one side of_ Agnes, Ravensburg
_on the other._
_Rav._ Manfredi! Sovereign!
_Ab._ He knows it--knows, on her suppos'd decease, this hand inform'd
him of Manfredi's motives--and that, disgusted with a sickening world,
in calm retirement, he should seek for peace. He sought it here--and in
Bellarmin's name, was here most safely sheltered! When, soon, the daring
calumny spread wide, of "traitor"--of "assassin"--and the sad narrative
perverted, confirm'd the perjur'd statement. You'll say I should have
answered this? No--aware such influence, and such arts, would, with such
judges, beat down humble truth, I kept immur'd! and my reported death
checking inquiry, whilst the loud world sung forth the slanderer's
praise, I could look inward, and exclaim, better forever undeserved
disgrace, than hear applause the heart can never sanction!
_Ag._ My lord, (_to Ravensburg_) though lost in wonder and in joy, and
now most certain he proclaim'd me as Manfredi's daughter, to give a
colour to each cruel charge! yet can I see a fellow creature, torn with
such convulsive agony!--Go--speak--console him.
_Ab._ (_to prince._) You hear!
_Prin._ I do! and if Manfredi had, like me, beheld her angel mother's
form, the strong resemblance had betray'd the secret, and mad ambition
had been sooner crush'd! I sue, I supplicate for death--life, life's the
dreaded punishment for guilt like mine! Come--I implore ye!
_Ab._ 'Tis gone! 'tis vanished! and I, who hated and opposed, now feel
my edict surpasses even royal rights! Monarchs may spare, yet also they
must punish! By my prerogative, I can but pardon--be safe within these
walls, till higher power determines on your fate. (_the prince is led up
the stage._) Now hope we to fulfill a far more welcome office, the union
of two hearts, that beat in unison, and that, and our forth-coming
installation, past--(_music without_)--Hark! they come--the warfare
o'er, the sons of peace approach.
_Rav._ (_looking out._) Oh! glorious, welcome sight! and let none say
the days of darkness are returned, when such desert is crown'd with such
reward. My lord, they enter--they expect you.
_Ab._ Why, ay; and if my princess will partake--She will, she will--and
'tis not there that I shall seek reward--'Tis here! 'tis here. (_taking
the princess's hand._)
_Music._ [_Exeunt._
SCENES THE LAST.--_The installation, &c. All the characters discovered._
CHORUS.
Hail, hour of glory!
Hail, hour of glory!
Long o'er our hearts may our abbot sway!
Fam'd in story,
Long live this hallow'd and this happy day!
_Ab._ Be ever chronicled this blest event! And now my princess shall
with me unite to root out secret subterraneous justice, and fixing it in
fair and open day, unmask free knights, and hail the dawn of genuine
freedom, and enlightened truth.
FINALE.
Now your lofty paeans raise,
To our youthful princess' praise.
Ne'er may such bless'd rulers sever--
May our princess live for ever!