University of Virginia Library

SCENE IV.

De Monfort is discovered sitting in a thoughtful posture. He remains so for some time. His face afterwards begins to appear agitated, like one whose mind is harrowed with the severest thoughts; then, starting from his seat, he clasps his hands together, and holds them up to heaven.
De Mon.
O that I ne'er had known the light of day!
That filmy darkness on mine eyes had hung,
And clos'd me out from the fair face of nature!
O that my mind in mental darkness pent,
Had no perception, no distinction known,
Of fair or foul, perfection or defect,
Nor thought conceiv'd of proud pre-eminence!
O that it had! O that I had been form'd
An idiot from the birth! a senseless changeling,
Who eats his glutton's meal with greedy haste,
Nor knows the hand which feeds him.—
[Pauses; then in a calmer sorrowful voice.
What am I now? how ends the day of life?
For end it must; and terrible this gloom,
This storm of horrors that surrounds its close.
This little term of nature's agony
Will soon be o'er, and what is past is past;
But shall I then, on the dark lap of earth
Lay me to rest, in still unconsciousness,
Like senseless clod that doth no pressure feel
From wearing foot of daily passenger;
Like a steep'd rock o'er which the breaking waves
Bellow and foam unheard? O would I could!

Enter Manuel, who springs forward to his master, but is checked upon perceiving De Monfort draw back and look sternly at him.
Man.
My lord, my master! O my dearest master!
[De Monfort still looks at him without speaking.
Nay, do not thus regard me, good my lord!
Speak to me: am I not your faithful Manuel?

De Mon.
(in a hasty broken voice).
Art thou alone?

Man.
No, sir, the Lady Jane is on her way;
She is not far behind.

De Mon.
(tossing his arm over his head in an agony).
This is too much! all I can bear but this!
It must not be.—Run and prevent her coming.
Say, he who is detain'd a prisoner here
Is one to her unknown. I now am nothing.
I am a man of holy claims bereft;
Out of the pale of social kindred cast;
Nameless and horrible.—
Tell her De Monfort far from hence is gone
Into a desolate and distant land,
Ne'er to return again. Fly, tell her this;
For we must meet no more.

Enter Jane De Monfort, bursting into the chamber and followed by Freberg, abbess, and several nuns.
Jane.
We must! we must! My brother, O my brother!
[De Monfort turns away his head and hides his face with his arm. Jane stops short, and, making a great effort, turns to Freberg, and the others who followed her, and with an air of dignity stretches out her hand, beckoning them to retire. All retire but Freberg, who seems to hesitate.
And thou too, Freberg: call it not unkind.

[Exit Freberg: Jane and De Monfort only remain.
Jane.
My hapless Monfort!

[De Monfort turns round and looks sorrowfully upon her; she opens her arms to him, and he, rushing into them, hides his face upon her breast, and weeps.
Jane.
Ay, give thy sorrow vent; here mayst thou weep.

De Mon.

(in broken accents).
Oh! this, my sister, makes me feel again
The kindness of affection.
My mind has in a dreadful storm been tost;
Horrid and dark—I thought to weep no more—
I've done a deed—But I am human still.

Jane.
I know thy suff'rings: leave thy sorrow free!
Thou art with one who never did upbraid;
Who mourns, who loves thee still.

De Mon.
Ah! sayst thou so? no, no; it should not be.
(Shrinking from her.)
I am a foul and bloody murderer,
For such embrace unmeet: O leave me! leave me!
Disgrace and public shame abide me now;
And all, alas! who do my kindred own,
The direful portion share.—Away, away!
Shall a disgrac'd and public criminal
Degrade thy name, and claim affinity
To noble worth like thine?—I have no name—
I'm nothing now, not e'en to thee: depart.

[She takes his hand, and grasping it firmly, speaks with a determined voice.
Jane.
De Monfort, hand in hand we have enjoy'd
The playful term of infancy together;
And in the rougher path of ripen'd years
We've been each other's stay. Dark low'rs our fate,
And terrible the storm that gathers o'er us;
But nothing, till that latest agony
Which severs thee from nature, shall unloose
This fix'd and sacred hold. In thy dark prison-house;
In the terrific face of armed law;
Yea, on the seaffold, if it needs must be,
I never will forsake thee.

De Mon.
(looking at her with admiration.)
Heav'n bless thy gen'ro us soul, my noble Jane!
I thought to sink beneath this load of ill,
Depress'd with infamy and open shame;
I thought to sink in abject wretchedness:
But for thy sake I'll rouse my manhood up,
And meet it bravely; no unseemly weakness,
I feel my rising strength, shall blot my end,
To clothe thy cheek with shame.

Jane.
Yes, thou art noble still.

De Mon.
With thee I am; who were not so with thee?
But, ah! my sister, short will be the term:
Death's stroke will come, and in that state beyond,
Where things unutterable wait the soul,
New from its earthly tenement discharg'd,
We shall be sever'd far.
Far as the spotless purity of virtue
Is from the murd'rer's guilt, far shall we be.
This is the gulf of dread uncertainty
From which the soul recoils.

Jane.
The God who made thee is a God of mercy:
Think upon this.

De Mon.
(shaking his head).
No, no! this blood! this blood!

Jane.
Yes, e'en the sin of blood may be forgiv'n,
When humble penitence hath once aton'd.

De Mon.
(eagerly).
What, after terms of lengthen'd misery,
Imprison'd anguish of tormented spirits,
Shall I again, a renovated soul,
Into the blessed family of the good
Admittance have? Thinkst thou that this may be?
Speak, if thou canst: O speak me comfort here!
For dreadful fancies, like an armed host,
Have push'd me to despair. It is most horrible—
O speak of hope! if any hope there be.

[Jane is silent, and looks sorrowfully upon him; then clasping her hands, and turning her eyes to heaven, seems to mutter a prayer.
De Mon.
Ha! dost thou pray for me? heav'n hear thy prayer!
I fain would kneel.—Alas! I dare not do it.

Jane.
Not so! all by th' Almighty Father form'd,
May in their deepest misery call on Him.
Come kneel with me, my brother.

[She kneels and prays to herself; he kneels by her, and clasps his hands fervently, but speaks not. A noise of chains clanking is heard without, and they both rise.
De Mon.
Hearest thou that noise? They come to interrupt us.

Jane.
(moving towards a side door).
Then let us enter here.

De Mon.
(catching hold of her with a look of horror).
Not there—not there—the corpse —the bloody corpse!

Jane.
What, lies he there?—Unhappy Rezenvelt!

De Mon.
A sudden thought has come across my mind;
How came it not before? Unhappy Rezenvelt!
Sayst thou but this?

Jane.
What should I say? he was an honest man;
I still have thought him such, as such lament him.
[De Monfort utters a deep groan.
What means this heavy groan?

De Mon.
It hath a meaning.

Enter abbess and monks, with two officers of justice carrying fetters in their hands to put upon De Monfort.
Jane
(starting.)
What men are these?

1st off.
Lady, we are the servants of the law,
And bear with us a power, which doth constrain
To bind with fetters this our prisoner.

[Pointing to De Monfort.
Jane.
A stranger uncondemn'd? this cannot be.

1st off.
As yet, indeed, he is by law unjudg'd,
But is so far condemn'd by circumstance,
That law, or custom sacred held as law,
Doth fully warrant us, and it must be.

Jane.
Nay, say not so; he has no power t'escape:
Distress hath bound him with a heavy chain;
There is no need of yours.

1st off.
We must perform our office.

Jane.
O! do not offer this indignity!

1st off.
Is it indignity in sacred law
To bind a murderer? (To 2d off.)
Come, do thy work.

Jane.
Harsh are thy words, and stern thy harden'd brow;
Dark is thine eye; but all some pity have
Unto the last extreme of misery.
I do beseech thee! if thou art a man—

[Kneeling to him.
[De Monfort, roused at this, runs up to Jane, and raises her hastily from the ground: then stretches himself up proudly.
De Mon.
(to Jane).
Stand thou erect in native dignity;
And bend to none on earth the suppliant knee,
Though cloth'd in power imperial. To my heart
It gives a feller gripe than many irons.
(Holding out his hands.)
Here, officers of law, bind on those shackles;
And, if they are too light, bring heavier chains,
Add iron to iron; load, crush me to the ground:
Nay, heap ten thousand weight upon my breast,
For that were best of all.

[A long pause, whilst they put irons upon him. After they are on, Jane looks at him sorrowfully, and lets her head sink on her breast. De Monfort stretches out his hand, looks at them, and then at Jane; crosses them over his breast, and endeavours to suppress his feelings.
1st off.
(to De Monfort).
I have it, too, in charge to move you hence,
Into another chamber more sccure.

De Mon.
Well, I am ready, sir.
[Approaching Jane, whom the abbess is endeavouring to comfort, but to no purpose.
Ah! wherefore thus, most honour'd and most dear?
Shrink not at the accoutrements of ill,
Daring the thing itself.
[Endeavouring to look cheerful.
Wilt thou permit me with a gyved hand?
[She gives him her hand, which he raises to his lips.
This was my proudest office.

[Exeunt, De Monfort leading out Jane.