Volume 1 / Act 2 — SCENE IV.—The garden of Corbey abbey, with practicable gates, over 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.