University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—Grand Front of St. John Lateran.
Enter the Countess Matilda and Godfrey.
Godf.
His mine is sprung, and into pestilent air
He has blown himself.

Mat.
We must be calm, and wait.

Godf.
Calm! is it possible?

Mat.
'T is only just.

Godf.
Seest not thine error yet?—seest not, Matilda,
This object whom thou 'st long beheld with thoughts
Devout, that mingled in thine orisons,
Is fraught with worldliness; one who, beneath
The shaded haunts of sanctity, conceals
Passions like dragons, violent and foul.

Mat.
He has, indeed,
Such strength of passion as assorts with greatness
Of thought and action; yet, my lord, believe,
Though he may err, as in this act he has,
In Hildebrand is nothing base or mean.
And let me tell thee, husband, I believe
There may be reason, when we shall know all,
In that which seemed so mad.

Godf.
Matilda, cease!
Infatuated woman! cast away
The film that, like a cowl, doth blind thine eyes:
Dismiss this vicious abbot from thy prayers;
Confess not to him: of thy love I ask it;—
Nay, of thy holiest faith. Oh, wouldst thou gaze
At heaven's clear sapphire through the gates of hell?

Mat.
My lord! forbear these impious—

Godf.
Forbear thou!
I will not listen to this vain defence
Of such a criminal.
[Exit Godfrey.

Mat.
This headstrong hate
I fear will snap all ties.
Enter Hildebrand.
What hast thou done?

Hil.
Well; very well.

Mat.
Resolve me of all doubt!

Hil.
'T was impulse from on high, not my design.
Daughter, they rolled before me like a sea;
Then paused to let me walk upon their necks,
As foamy as they were,—I was upheld
By the deputed fire that wings my soul.
The council has concluded as I wished;
And thus the mutinous churchmen are put down.
I left them when I saw 'twas working right;
For I can stand alone, therefore have friends.

Mat.
Why didst thou smite the Pontiff—Oh, why didst?

Hil.
Because his weak-souled loyalty to Henry
Smote like an axe against the See of Rome.
I heard Time's echoes through the world's forest ringing;
I saw the tree which should o'ertop them all,
Like to a sun-beam falling into night,
And therefore stood I forth and smote that man,
As I will take the axe from out his hand.

Mat.
Father, enough: I do believe thy truth
Equals thy courage in this lofty cause.
I much lament thou hast an enemy
In Godfrey, who proclaims thee full of evil,
And worldliness and vice.

Hil.
His proclamation
Is as a plague-wind howling through a hall,
Throng'd with grey statues of the elder gods.
Its breath can never taint me: let it proclaim!
There is no vice can dwell in a soul of power:
It may appear in transitory fits;
But, like blear lightning at the pitch of noon,
It leaves no flaw in heaven. Poisonous dews
Are presently o'ermastered by the sun,
Which sucks them up, but of their influence
Partaking nought, absorbs and turns to good.

Mat.
Most gladly, most devoutly do I hear thee;
And do again surrender my whole soul
To thy paternal charge.

Hil.
Daughter, 'tis well.
High thrones have need of thee; and most of all,
Pontifical Rome, in dire emergency,
Looks for thine utmost aid.

Mat.
It shall be given:—
But what the threatened peril?

Hil.
Loss of power;
And that comprises every loss: drain ocean
Of her world-swinging waves, then may her bed
Serve to herd cattle in, safe from all storms,
And browsing fat amid the fossil shapes.
Shall low desires of animal life possess
Our measureless realm, stupendous e'en in death,
And our lost glories give them food and shade!
Oh, daughter! it is granted thee of heaven
This peril to avert. The Tuscan army,
Obedient to thy call, must hither speed;
And secretly arriving in the night,
Soon as the Emperor hath departed hence,
May enter suddenly the gates of Rome
To act as I direct.

Mat.
What then?
Oh, father! let no blood be spilt in this.

Hil.
None need, nor shall, unless of those who 're mad,
And run upon the spears.

Mal.
I am content.

Hil.
All the strong posts in Rome I'd have thee guard;
And to what end I will in brief explain.

[Exeunt.
Enter Godfrey and Guido.
Godf.
Have I not cause, my lord?

Gui.
You have—you have!
My lord duke, listen to me: 'tis the etherial—
The etherial you should study.

Godf.
School you a heart
Amid its anguish with a churchman's dreams!
Know'st thou my soul? what think'st thou of its thrall?

Gui.
Thy noble lady's loyalty to thee
Sinks all absorbed in his insidious wiles.

Godf.
Her loyalty and love—all thoughts and hopes!
Oh, my lord archbishop, into thine ear
I fain would pour my double source of grief;
For while Matilda on the ghostly breast—
The devilish breast—of Hildebrand reclines,
And follows all the counsels he instils,
The Emperor lingers ever in her path,
And feeds upon her beauty with his eyes.—
Hast not observed it?

Gui.
Never. But, if true,
Wer't not a means—a fortunate means—to turn
The Emperor 'gainst this abbot, whom we hate?

Godf.
Call you it fortunate? Is there no word
That to the mind shall paint a hideous thought
Blacker than blackness;—no revolting act
That, o' the instant it first stings the brain,
Shall brand the forehead? If that such there be,
Or word or act, call it a fortunate means
For sure perdition of high manhood here,
With flames hereafter. Shame on thee, my lord!
Thy sacred robes change colour as I gaze,
And startle apprehension! I had hoped
Far different consolation and advice:
But I will fly the hated city walls,
And trust the day not distant when I'll find
A means which honour's hand shall proudly own,
And vengeance feel complete!

[Exit.
Gui.
Vengeance on whom?
The Emperor, or that abbot?—not on me.
So angry! I was unguarded—perhaps even wrong.
Hildebrand moves Matilda to this pass—
Whether she know it or not, I see 't is done—
That Godfrey, jealous of the Emperor's sighs,
May take no part with him. I do dissect
This truth like a burnt ortolan.
Enter the Emperor, with Eberardus, and suite.
Pure breezes
And temperate suns attend your majesty,
Unto the foot-stool o' the Germanic throne!
Do you set out to day?

Emp.
My lord, we do.

Ebe.
But of this headstrong Abbot Hildebrand,—

Emp.
Now spare us, sir! no more of Hildebrand:
We shall erewhile appoint another Pontiff
In Alexander's place; one who shall keep
All froward churchmen in becoming check.

Gui.
Therein your majesty will render service
Of deepest import to the peace of Rome.

Emp.
(to Ebe.)
Your ear, sir!
My message to the Countess of Tuscany—

Ebe.
Was duly given.

Emp.
(aside).
Where'er I walk my spirit is possessed
With ravishing desire, which ever sees
Matilda's near, yet still receding form.
Her large clear eyes are full of azure light;
Her breath of balmy prayer; and her tall shape,
Is by its beauty softened like a dream.
How shall I compass so much love and dread?
The angel and the woman hold my will
Balanced with fear of heaven. Hist! she comes.

Enter Matilda, attended.
Emp.
Ah! noble princess, rich in southern skies,
And teeming fields, more rich in subject hearts,
Accept our farewell homage, and permit
A hope to beam that not all unregretted,
Nor soon forgotten, shall we hence depart.

Mat.
The Majesty of Germany doth bear
His own beams round about his brows, nor needs
To ask for aught to light his hopes.

Emp.
Is 't so?
Now could I cast my throne into the sea,
And plant my sceptre in the quiet soil,
To stand amidst the vivid summer buds!
Why must I journey hence?

Mat.
Oh, royal sir!
Duty, imperious as the sway you bear,
Calls from your realms.

Emp.
Yet do you see me, lady,
Like to a magic arrow from the clouds,
Fixed trembling here.

Gui.
(aside).
Bright, sensitive,—and pointed.

Mat.
What should we say,
If that the sun enamoured of the stars,
Unto night's palace did all day resort;
His radiant diadem in shades absorbed;
And while he slept with sphered music tranced,
His mortal creatures languished in the dark,
And maddened at the apparent end of time?
Oh, royal sir, the hour of dawn glides by,
While thou, but on the threshold of intent,
Stand'st shining at the gates. God speed you, sir!

Emp.
I cannot, will not hence depart, until
Thy promise I obtain. The German court
Shall wait thy presence ere one festive day
Our advent clarion. Thou wilt visit us!

Gui.
(aside).
Godfrey hath reason for his jealous fear;
And yet I doubt the event.

Mat.
Imperial Henry!
Myself, and Godfrey will attend your pleasure.

Gui.
(aside).
Godfrey 's misled: there 's nought to fear in this.

Emp.
Thyself; none else can live within my thoughts.

Mat.
Ah, speak not thus: in Rome are many things
That claim devout and deepest thought.

Emp.
What mean you?

Mat.
I mean the safety of the See of Rome,
Its faith, and those who represent its power:
Oh, fill thy thoughts with visions such as these!
And in especial would I name to thee,
As one deserving reverent confidence,
The learned Abbot Hildebrand.

Gui.
Ahem!

Emp.
Whom say'st thou?
Oh, I have heard and know enough of him:
We'll bear him well in mind—the learned monk.—
When shall our court behold thee, and be blest?

Mat.
As thou dost hold the grace of highest heaven,
And of the church, my prayers shall follow thee:
And to thy court some brief space will I come,
As I shall find thine ardent soul waft back
The measure of its faith towards templed Rome.

Emp.
Now, by my sword and its high warlike hopes,
All faith, all feeling shall return to thee!
Such be our bond: Matilda, fare thee well!

[Exeunt Emperor, Eberardus, Guido, and suite.
Mat.
He darkened o'er the name of Hildebrand.—
Whate'er his bent, I will at once secure
The safety of the papal power, and plant
The Tuscan troops where they may best defend
Our purpose; then, if vast designs take root,
Build up a throne upon the thrones of kings.

[Exit.