SCENE VI.
A hall or large room in the convent. The bodies of
De Monfort
and
Rezenvelt
are discovered laid
out upon a low table or platform, covered with black.
Freberg, Bernard,
abbess, monks, and nuns
attending.
Abb.
(
to
Freb.)
Here must they lie, my lord, until we know
Respecting this the order of the law.
Freb.
And you have wisely done, my rev'rend mother.
[
Goes to the table, and looks at the bodies, but without uncovering them..
Unhappy men! ye, both in nature rich,
With talents and with virtues were endued.
Ye should have lov'd, yet deadly rancour came,
And in the prime and manhood of your days
Ye sleep in horrid death. O direful hate!
What shame and wretchedness his portion is,
Who, for a secret inmate, harbours thee!
And who shall call him blameless, who excites,
Ungen'rously excites, with careless scorn,
Such baleful passion in a brother's breast,
Whom heav'n commands to love? Low are ye laid:
Still all contention now.—Low are ye laid:
I lov'd you both, and mourn your hapless fall.
Abb.
They were your friends, my lord?
Freb.
I lov'd them both. How does the Lady Jane?
Abb.
She bears misfortune with intrepid soul.
I never saw in woman, bow'd with grief,
Such moving dignity.
Freb.
Ay, still the same.
I've known her long: of worth most excellent;
But in the day of woe she ever rose
Upon the mind with added majesty,
As the dark mountain more sublimely tow'rs
Mantled in clouds and storm.
Enter
Manuel
and
Jerome.
Man.
(
pointing).
Here, my good Jerome, here's a piteous sight.
Jer.
A piteous sight! yet I will look upon him:
I'll see his face in death. Alas, alas!
I've seen him move a noble gentleman!
And when with vexing passion undisturb'd,
He look'd most graciously.
[
Lifts up in mistake the cloth from the body of
Rezenvelt,
and starts back with horror.
Oh! this was the bloody work! Oh! oh, oh, oh!
That human hands could do it!
[
Drops the cloth again.
Man.
That is the murder'd corpse; here lies De
Monfort.
[
Going to uncover the other body.
Jer.
(
turning away his head).
No, no! I cannot look upon him now.
Man.
Didst thou not come to see him?
Jer.
Fy! cover him—inter him in the dark—
Let no one look upon him.
Bern.
(
to
Jer.)
Well dost thou show the abhorrence nature feels
For deeds of blood, and I commend thee well.
In the most ruthless heart compassion wakes
For one, who, from the hand of fellow man,
Hath felt such cruelty.
[
Uncovering the body of
Rezenvelt.
This is the murder'd corse:
[
Uncovering the body of
De Monfort.
But see, I pray!
Here lies the murderer. What thinkst thou here?
Look on those features, thou hast seen them oft,
With the last dreadful conflict of despair,
So fix'd in horrid strength.
See those knit brows; those hollow sunken eyes;
The sharpen'd nose, with nostrils all distent;
That writhed mouth, where yet the teeth appear,
In agony, to gnash the nether lip.
Thinkst thou, less painful than the murd'rer's knife
Was such a death as this?
Ay, and how changed too those matted locks!
Jer.
Merciful heaven! his hair is grizly grown,
Chang'd to white age, that was, but two days since,
Black as the raven's plume. How may this be?
Bern.
Such change, from violent conflict of the mind,
Will sometimes come.
Jer.
Alas, alas! most wretched!
Thou wert too good to do a cruel deed,
And so it kill'd thee. Thou hast suffer'd for it.
God rest thy soul! I needs must touch thy hand,
And bid thee long farewell.
[
Laying his hand on
De Monfort.
Bern.
Draw back, draw back: see where the lady comes.
Enter
Jane De Monfort. Freberg,
who has
been for some time retired by himself at the bottom
of the stage, now steps forward to lead her in, but
checks himself on seeing the fixed sorrow of her
countenance, and draws back respectfully.
Jane
advances to the table, and looks attentively at the
covered bodies.
Manuel
points out the body of
De Monfort,
and she gives a gentle inclination
of the head, to signify that she understands him.
She then bends tenderly over it, without speaking.
Man.
(
to
Jane,
as she raises her head).
Oh, madam, my good lord!
Jane.
Well says thy love, my good and faithful Manuel:
But we must mourn in silence.
Man.
Alas! the times that I have followed him!
Jane.
Forbear, my faithful Manuel. For this love
Thou hast my grateful thanks; and here's my hand:
Thou hast lov'd him, and I'll remember thee.
Where'er I am, in whate'er spot of earth
I linger out the remnant of my days,
I will remember thee.
Man.
Nay, by the living God! where'er you are,
There will I be. I'll prove a trusty servant:
I'll follow you, even to the world's end.
My master's gone; and I indeed am mean,
Yet will I show the strength of nobler men,
Should any dare upon your honour'd worth
To put the slightest wrong. Leave you, dear lady!
Kill me, but say not this!
[
Throwing himself at her feet.
Jane
(
raising him).
Well, then! be thou my servant, and my friend.
Art thou, good Jerome, too, in kindness come?
I see thou art. How goes it with thine age?
Jer.
Ah, madam! woe and weakness dwell with age:
Would I could serve you with a young man's strength!
I'd spend my life for you.
Jane.
Thanks, worthy Jerome.
O! who hath said, the wretched have no friends?
Freb.
In every sensible and gen'rous breast
Affliction finds a friend; but unto thee,
Thou most exalted and most honourable,
The heart in warmest adoration bows,
And even a worship pays.
Jane.
Nay, Freberg! Freberg! grieve me not, my friend.
He, to whose ear my praise most welcome was,
Hears it no more! and, oh, our piteous lot!
What tongue will talk of him? Alas, alas!
This more than all will bow me to the earth;
I feel my misery here.
The voice of praise was wont to name us both:
I had no greater pride.
[
Covers her face with her hands, and bursts into
tears. Here they all hang about her:
Freberg
supporting her tenderly,
Manuel
embracing
her knees, and old
Jerome
catching hold of
her robe affectionately.
Bernard,
abbess,
monks, and nuns likewise gather round her,
with looks of sympathy.
Enter two Officers of Law.
1st off.
Where is the prisoner?
Into our hands he straight must be consign'd.
Bern.
He is not subject now to human laws;
The prison that awaits him is the grave.
1st off.
Ha! sayst thou so? there is foul play in this.
Man.
(
to off.)
Hold thy unrighteous tongue, or hie thee hence,
Nor in the presence of this honour'd dame,
Utter the slightest meaning of reproach.
1st off.
I am an officer on duty call'd,
And have authority to say, “How died he?”
[
Here
Jane
shakes off the weakness of grief, and
repressing
Manuel,
who is about to reply to
the officer, steps forward with dignity.
Jane.
Tell them by whose authority you come,
He died that death which best becomes a man,
Who is with keenest sense of conscious ill
And deep remorse assail'd, a wounded spirit.
A death that kills the noble and the brave,
And only them. He had no other wound.
1st off.
And shall I trust to this?
Jane.
Do as thou wilt:
To one who can suspect my simple word
I have no more reply. Fulfil thine office.
1st off.
No, lady. I believe your honour'd word,
And will no further search.
Jane.
I thank your courtesy: thanks, thanks to all;
My rev'rend mother, and ye honour'd maids;
Ye holy men, and you, my faithful friends;
The blessing of the afflicted rest with you!
And He, who to the wretched is most piteous,
Will recompense you.—Freberg, thou art good;
Remove the body of the friend you lov'd:
'Tis Rezenvelt I mean. Take thou this charge:
'Tis meet, that with his noble ancestors
He lie entomb'd in honourable state.
And now I have a sad request to make,
Nor will these holy sisters scorn my boon;
That I, within these sacred cloister walls,
May raise a humble, nameless tomb to him,
Who, but for one dark passion, one dire deed,
Had claim'd a record of as noble worth,
As e'er enrich'd the sculptur'd pedestal.
[
Exeunt.
Note. —The last three lines of the last speech are not intended
to give the reader a true character of De Monfort,
whom I have endeavoured to represent throughout the play
as, notwithstanding his other good qualities, proud, suspicious,
and susceptible of envy, but only to express the
partial sentiments of an affectionate sister, naturally more
inclined to praise him from the misfortune into which he
had fallen.
