 | Isaac Comnenus |  |
Scene III.
—A Hall in the Palace, where many Ecclesiastics are assembled in Synod. The Emperor is seated on a throne at the further end of a table, at which are also seated the Patriarch, the Bishop of Trebizond, the Bishop of Nicomedia, the Synodal Secretary, and other Dignitaries. In front the Bishops of Heraclea and Philippopolis are conversing in an undertone and are joined by the Bishop of Cæsarea.Bishop of Heraclea.
Methinks the time is long.
Bishop of Philippopolis.
It passeth heavily, and truly 'tis heavy laden.
Bishop of Cœsarea.
I heard our brother of Trebizond whispering the Patriarch of an idle rumour that the
heretics were found watching and had overpowered the Royal Guard.
Bishop of Heraclea.
At such times there are ever such rumours.
Bishop of Cœsarea.
Hark!—no; 'tis nothing. Is not the Emperor paler than his wont?
Bishop of Heraclea.
He is as white as an almond tree in June.
Bishop of Cæsarea.
And our brother of Trebizond?
There's no more blood in his face than in this crucifix.
Patriarch.
What is your talk, my Lords? Speak out, speak out: there be no laics here. Speak freely out.
Bishop of Cæsarea.
Do thou make answer.
Bishop of Heraclea.
Most holy father, we spake how that this heretic hath tarried long.
Patriarch.
He cometh late to judgment; yea, too late.
Long-suffering are the delegates of heaven;
Abounding they in mercy and in grace:
So judgment followeth sin with stealing steps.
Too late—too late.
Emperor
(to one of the Ecclesiastics).
Send some one
forth to look if they be coming.
[Exit Ecclesiastic.
Patriarch.
I say we're all too late. Hast written out the award?
The Secretary.
Holiest father, it is here.
Patriarch.
We'll have it signed at once. First to his Majesty, and then the rest.
Emperor.
Not me, not me; the thing concerns not me.
Patriarch.
Well, well, here's warranty enough without.
[Signs.
So—pass it to my Lord of Trebizond.
Bishop of Trebizond.
Must I sign first?
Patriarch.
At once, my Lord, and pass it.
(aside to the Bishop of Cæsarea).
Mark you how the style trembles in his hand.
The Secretary.
My Lord, you're writing on the written part: The space is here.
Bishop of Trebizond.
My eyesight fails me: here,—I see, I see.
Enter an Attendant.
Emperor.
Thine errand?
We waive the adorations, speak thine errand.
Attendant.
The Royal Guard is entering the gates.
Emperor.
'Tis well, right well.
Let them bring up the prisoner.
Patriarch.
Bring him up.
Most reverend Lords, we pray you take your seats.
Enter another Attendant in haste.
Attendant.
'Tis not the Royal Guard; 'tis the Comnenians: they have passed the gates, Count Isaac at
their head.
Emperor.
Great God! then all is lost! Where is the Cæsarissa?
Bishop of Trebizond.
We shall be murdered all!
Bishop of Cæsarea.
We're martyrs doomed.
Bishop of Heraclea.
Yea, verily the hour is come, and we are called and chosen.
Patriarch.
Silence, my Lords, what craven cries be these?
Your Majesty will please send some one forth
To draw your forces from the suburbs round.
I tell you take your seats. Ho! God is great!
His Church is mighty, and that might have we.
I say, bring up the Count.
Several voices.
He's coming up.
Patriarch.
I say, then, let him come.
Enter Comnenus, who walks to the foot of the table, the crowd falling back on either side.
Comnenus.
I'm here to answer to your summons.
Patriarch.
Lo!
Almighty God is present in His Church!
His Church is present here!
How hast thou dared then to profane this presence
By coming here in arms? Give up thy sword.
[Comnenus ungirds his sword and flings it on the table.
Comnenus.
(after some pause).
What would ye have with it that cannot use it?
My Lords, you trifle with me; here am I
Brought by your midnight summons from my house,
And ye have nought to say. Ye do but mock me.
We mock thee not: 'tis thou that mock'st high Heaven.
Thou'rt summoned here on many an ugly count
Of sacrilege and heresy and schism,
Which so thou answer'st not and clear'st thy fame,
We shall, in due acquittance of our trust,
Pronounce the interdict from fire and water
And cut thee off from Christian fellowship.
Comnenus.
My Lords, or e'er ye shall inhibit me,
From fire and water, have it you in charge
I cut not off yourselves from earth and air.
My Lords, this world is not so all your own
That ye can grant away the elements
Amongst your friends, and lock one moiety up
From them that like you not. Ye kneel and pray
That God will make you humble as the dust,
Then, rising, arrogate omnipotence
And shake the ashes from your shaven crowns.
But I ere long will teach you how to stoop
In veriest lowliness and know yourselves.
Patriarch
(holds up the cross and pronounces the adjuration, “Ecce crucem Domini! fugite partes adversæ!”)
A man possessed—'tis Sathan speaks, not he!
The father of lies hath spoken by his mouth.
An exorcist for this demoniac straight
To disenchant his body of the fiend!
Avaunt! avaunt!
Comnenus.
Ay, echo cries “Avaunt!”
A demonocracy of unclean spirits
Hath governed long these Synods of your Church,
The Antichrist foretold: and I am he
Who, in the fulness of the approaching time,
Will exorcise you all. Expect my coming.
[Exit.
[A short silence ensues, during which several persons who had followed Comnenus re-enter, exclaiming, “The Count is gone!”
Patriarch.
Thy wrath go with him, God!
Emperor.
I hear the sound of horses' feet afar;
The city force is out—he cannot stay;
He will abscond and seek support abroad.
Let every tribune hie him to his charge.
The prefects and the eparchs will resort
To the Bucoleon with what speed they may,
And there I'll meet them. Each man to his charge.
Patriarch
(to the Bishops).
Soldiers of God and militants supern!
Fight the good fight! on us devolves the charge
To fulminate the judgments of the Church;
And on the morn, before Sophia's shrine,
Shall this high charge be solemnly fulfilled.
Let every Churchman now assembled here
Attend and share the office.—You may go.
| Isaac Comnenus | |