Valperga (25 page)

"The wretch, who had almost forgotten human speech, jumped
up, and led the way among the tangled underwood, along savage
paths, overgrown with rank herbage, and bestrewn with stones, till
we came to his miserable hut,--a low, dark, squalid den, which I
dared not enter; `Bring me the child,'--I cried.

"Oh; it was a woeful sight, and one which to death I shall
remember, to see this child, this morning star of beauty and
exceeding brightness, with eyes shining with joy, rosy lips melted
into the softest smiles, her glossy hair strewn upon her lovely
neck, her whole form glowing with the roseate hues of life, led by
the leper from his hut; his body wrapped in a ragged blanket, his
grizzly hair stretched stiffly out, and his person and face
loathsome beyond words to describe. The lovely angel took her hand
from his, and coming up to me, said: `Take me to mamma; lead me
from this ugly place to mother.'

"This was Beatrice; and need I say how much I have ever
loved this hapless girl, and cherished her, and tried to save her
from the fate to which her destiny has hurried her?

"I returned to Milan, and found that in the morning, while
I had been absent, Magfreda had been burnt, and her ashes scattered
to the winds, so that I had become this poor babe's only
guardian. I placed her under the care of a pensioner of the church
in the neighbourhood of Milan; and when I was promoted to the see
of Ferrara, I brought her with me, and intreated my sister to
receive her, and cherish her as her own. The lovely little being
won all hearts, and Marchesana soon became attached to her with
maternal fondness. She was educated in the Holy Catholic faith; and
I hoped that, untainted by her mother's errors, she would lead
an unblamed and peaceful life, unmarked and unknown; God has
ordered it otherwise.

"Beatrice was always an extraordinary child. When only six
and seven years of age, she would sit alone for hours, silently
contemplating; and, when I asked her of what she thought, she would
weep, and passionately desire me not to ask her. As she grew older,
her imagination developed; she would sing extempore hymns with
wild, sweet melody, and she seemed to dwell with all her soul on
the mysteries of our religion; she then became communicative, and
told me how for hours she meditated upon the works of nature, and
the goodness of God, till she was filled with a sentiment that
overwhelmed and oppressed her, so that she could only weep and
sigh. She intreated me to unfold to her all I knew, and to teach
her to read in the sacred book of our religion.

"I was fearful that her ignorance and enthusiasm might lead
her astray, since, in her accounts of her meditations, she often
said things of God and the angels that were heretical; and I hoped
that a knowledge of the truth would calm her mind, and lead her to
a saner devotion. But my labours had a contrary effect; the more
she heard, and the more she read, the more she gave herself up to
contemplation and solitude, and to what I cannot help considering
the wild dreams of her imagination. It seemed to me as if her
mother's soul had descended into her; but that, regulated by
the true faith, she had escaped the damnable heresies of that
unhappy woman. She delighted to read, and pretended to explain the
prophecies of the sacred writings, and the modern ones of Merlin,
the abbot Joachim and Methodius: beside these studies, she grew
wonderfully familiar with all vulgar superstitions, holy trees and
fountains, lucky and unlucky days, and all the silly beliefs that
jugglers and impostors encourage for their own profit. At length
she began to prophesy; some of her prophecies were interpreted as
true, and since that time her fame has been spread through Ferrara.
Her followers are numerous; and my poor sister is the first of her
disciples: Beatrice herself is wrapped up in the belief of her own
exalted nature, and really thinks herself the Ancilla Dei, the
chosen vessel into which God has poured a portion of his spirit:
she preaches, she prophesies, she sings extempore hymns, and
entirely fulfilling the part of Donna Estatica, she passes many
hours of each day in solitary meditation, or rather in dreams, to
which her active imagination gives a reality and life which confirm
her in her mistakes.

"Thus, my lord, I have revealed the birth of this
extraordinary girl, which is unknown to every one else. Why I have
done this I can hardly tell; for I have done it without
premeditation or foresight. But I am glad that you know the truth;
for you seem humane and generous; and I wish to secure another
protector for my poor Beatrice, if I were to die, and she fell into
any misfortune or disgrace."

Castruccio and the good bishop passed almost the whole night in
conversation concerning this wonderful creature; and, when the
consul retired to rest, he could not sleep, while the beauty of
Beatrice was present to his eyes, and her strange birth and
fortunes to his memory. In the morning he went to the church of St.
Anna: mass was performed, but he looked in vain for the
prophetess;--yet, when the service was finished, and the people
assembled in the porch of the church, she appeared among them with
her aged protectress at her side. She wore her capuchin of light
blue silk, but her cowl was thrown back, and her eyes, black as the
darkness which succeeds a midnight flash of lightning, full and
soft as the shy antelope's, gleamed with prophetic fire.

She spoke; her words flowed with rich and persuasive eloquence,
and her energetic but graceful action added force to her
expressions. She reproached the people for lukewarm faith, careless
selfishness, and a want of fervour in the just cause, that stamped
them as the slaves of foreigners and tyrants. Her discourse was
long and continued, with the same flow of words and unabated
fervour: her musical voice filled the air; and the deep silence and
attention of her numerous auditors added to the solemnity of the
scene. Every eye was fixed on her,--every countenance changed as
hers changed; they wept, they smiled, and at last became
transported by her promises of the good that was suddenly to arise,
and of the joy that would then await the constant of heart;--when,
as this enthusiasm was at its height, some Dominican inquisitors
came forward, surrounded her, and declared her their prisoner.
Until that moment Castruccio had observed her only,--her flashing
eyes and animated manner; the smiles and then the tears, that, as
the sunshine and clouds of an April day, succeeded each other on
the heaven of her countenance. But, when the inquisitors surrounded
her, her voice was silent, and the mute deference of the multitude
was no more. All became clamour and confusion; screams,
vociferation, ejaculations and curses burst from every
tongue;--they declared that the prophetess, the Ancilla Dei should
not be torn from them,--she was no heretic,--of what crime had she
been guilty?--The inquisitors had with them a guard of Gascon
soldiers, and this inflamed the multitude still more; it was plain
that her adherence to the party of the marquess Obizzo, and the
prophecy of his restoration were her only crimes. The noise of her
arrest spread through the town, and all Ferrara flocked to the
church of St. Anna; the crowd, transported with rage, seemed
prepared to rescue the prisoner, who, silent and resigned, stood as
one unconcerned in the animated scene. The people armed themselves
with stones, sticks, knives, and axes; the inquisitors sent for a
reinforcement of Gascon troops, and every thing appeared to menace
violence, and bloodshed, when one of the priests attempted to take
the hand of Beatrice as if to lead her away; she looked at him with
a steady glance, and he drew back, while she made a sign as if
about to speak, and the multitude hushed themselves to silence, and
were as still, as when a busy swarm of bees, buzzing and flying
about, all at once drop to silence, clinging round their queen, who
is the mistress of their motions.

She said, "I appeal to the bishop."

"Yes, to the bishop,--to the good bishop; he is just,--take
her to him,--he shall decide the cause."

The inquisitors were prepared to resist this appeal: but the
will of the people became a torrent not to be stemmed by them, and
it hurried them away. They led the prophetess to the episcopal
palace, surrounded by the Gascon soldiery, and followed by an
immense multitude, which rent the sky with the cries of their anger
and despair.

The bishop received the appeal with deep sorrow. Beatrice stood
before him, her arms crossed on her breast, her eyes cast down; but
on her face, although the gentlest modesty was depicted, there was
no trace of fear; she looked intrepid, yet as if she relied not on
her own strength, but on that of another. The inquisitors accused
her of being an impostor, a misleader of the people, a dangerous
and wicked enthusiast, whom the penitence and solitude of a
cloister must cure of her extravagant dreams. They talked long and
loud, uninterrupted either by the judge or the prisoner, although
the lady Marchesana who stood near could not always restrain her
indignation.

At length they were silent; and Beatrice spoke: "You call
me an impostor,--prove it! I shrink from no trial, I fear no danger
or torture,--I appeal to the Judgement of God,--on that I rest the
truth or falsehood of my mission."

She looked around her with her flashing eyes and glowing cheeks;
she was all loveliness, all softness; yet there was a spirit within
her, which elevated her above, although it mingled with the
feminine delicacy of her mind and manners, and which inspired all
who saw her with reverence and tenderness. But a small part of the
multitude had found their way into the hall of the bishop's
palace; but these could no longer contain themselves; the Judgement
of God was a thing suited to their vulgar imaginations, as a
strange and tremendous mystery, that excited their awe, their pity,
and their admiration: they cried, "God can alone judge of
this! let the trial be made!" and their screams overpowered
every other sound. The inquisitors joined in the clamour, whether
to consent or dissent it was impossible to distinguish; at length
the scene became calmer, and the bishop interposed his mild voice,
but vainly,--the inquisitors repeated the words, impostor! heretic!
madwoman! and Beatrice disdainfully refused all composition. It was
finally agreed, that she should be confined for that night in the
convent of St. Anna, and on the following morning, under the
auspices of the monks of the adjoining monastery, should undergo
the Judgement of God, to be pronounced guilty or innocent as that
should declare.

Both the inquisitors and Beatrice retired in security and
triumph, followed by the multitude, who were careless of the dismay
but too plainly painted on the faces of the prophetess's
friends. The lady Marchesana was in dreadful agitation, fluctuating
between her faith in the supernatural powers of Beatrice, and her
dread lest the trial should bring ruin upon her: she wept, she
laughed, she was in a state approaching to madness; until her
brother, bidding her confide in God, soothed her to resignation and
some degree of confidence. She then retired to pray, leaving the
bishop and Castruccio overwhelmed with pity, horror, and
indignation.

Then the old man for the first time gave vent to his
sorrow:--"Ill- fated victim! headstrong, foolish girl! what
are thy prophecies now? thy inspirations and divine aid? alas!
alas! the hand of God is upon thee, born in an evil day of a guilty
and impious mother! His wrath wraps thee as a cloud, and thou art
consumed beneath it;--my love is as bitter ashes,--my hopes are
extinct;--oh, that I had died before this day!"

Castruccio was at first too much confounded to offer
consolation; but, when he spoke, and bade his friend not despair,
the bishop replied: "My lord, she has won my whole soul, and
all my affections; why this is, I know not;--is she not beautiful?
and she is as good as she is beautiful. She calls me father, and
loves me with the tenderness of a child; day and night I have
offered up my prayers to God, not to visit on her the sins of her
mother;--for her sake I have fasted and prayed,--but all is vain,
and she must perish."

"Not so, father; say not that so lovely a being shall
perish under the fangs of these cruel hell-hounds. Do not, I
earnestly intreat you, despair: flight! flight is her only safety;
father, you have authority, and must save her. I will take charge
of her, when she has quitted the walls of the convent, and I will
place her in safe and honourable guardianship. Let her fly,--by the
sun in heaven she shall escape!"

The bishop remained silent for some time; the same ardent blood
did not warm his veins, which boiled in those of Castruccio: he saw
all the difficulties; he feared for the success of their scheme;
but he resolved to make the attempt. "You are right,"
said he; "flight is her only safety: yet it will be rather a
rape, than a flight; for willingly she will never consent to desert
the high character she has chosen to assume. Did you not mark her
triumph, when the Judgement of God was agreed upon? Mad, wild
girl!--Let me consider our plan, and weigh our powers. The abbess
is a Guelph; but the abbot of the visiting monastery is a
Ghibeline; besides the edicts of the church pronounce against these
temptations of God's justice. I will exert myself; and she may
be saved."

When night closed in, these two anxious friends, alone and
wrapped up from observation, hastened to the monastery. Castruccio
remained in the parlour; and the prelate entered the interior of
the convent. He remained two hours; while Castruccio, full of
anxiety, continued alone in the parlour, which looked on an
interior court with no object to call off his attention, in silent
and anxious expectation. He thought of the beauty of the
prophetess, her animation and numberless graces, until he almost
believed in the divinity of her mission: but he shuddered with
horror, when he reflected upon her danger, that her ivory feet
should press the burning iron, that, if she fell, she would fall on
the hot metal, and expire in misery, while the priests, the
accursed, self-constituted distributors of God's justice, would
sing hymns of triumph over her untimely and miserable fate:--he
felt tears gather in his eyes, and he would have devoted himself
for her safety. At length the bishop reappeared, and they silently
returned to the palace.