University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Scene I.

—The Castle at Tonbridge.—Leolf's Army encamped around it.
Oscar and Leolf's Seneschal.
Oscar.
I would that Wulfstan might have staid behind;
He hath the Heretoch's ear, and though he's wise
His wisdom is not for the camp; we march
As with a drag-chain.

Seneschal.
Nay, good Oscar, nay;
Further we cannot yet; the force in front
Hourly increases; our reserves are late;
And nothing comes from Wessex.
Enter Wulfstan the Wise.
Worthy Sir,
Your daughter, as I hear, is married. Well,
It is a blessing if her choice be yours,
And if it be not, still the father's heart
Will give the child God-speed.

Wulfstan.
Assuredly.
I did but bid her be less mutable,
Telling her that the past, or worse or better,
If driven in her and experienced home,
Might be as piles whereon to build the future,
Else insecure. I bade her be resolved,
Her choice now planted, forth of it to bring
The fruits of constancy; for constancy
On all things works for good; the barren breeds,
The fluent stops, the fugitive is fixed
By constancy. I told you, did I not,
The story of the wind, how he himself,
The desultory wind, was wrought upon?

Oscar.
Yes, Sir; you told it twice.

[Exit Seneschal.
Wulfstan.
The tale was this:
The wind when first he rose and went abroad
Through the waste region, felt himself at fault,
Wanting a voice; and suddenly to earth
Descended with a wafture and a swoop,
Where wandering volatile from kind to kind
He wooed the several trees to give him one.
First he besought the ash; the voice she lent
Fitfully with a free and lashing change
Flung here and there its sad uncertainties:
The aspen next; a fluttered frivolous twitter
Was her sole tribute: from the willow came,
So long as dainty summer dressed her out,
A whispering sweetness, but her winter note
Was hissing, dry, and reedy: lastly the pine
Did he solicit, and from her he drew
A voice so constant, soft, and lowly deep,
That there he rested, welcoming in her
A mild memorial of the ocean-cave
Where he was born.

Enter Leolf, with Emma, Ernway, and Grimbald.
Leolf.
Unhappy news! last night—
Sorely I grieve—ay, bitterly repent—
Had I been in my place—oh, weak recoil—
But it avails not.—Yesterday, my friends,
Was fruitful in events; the King was crowned,
Was married, was o'ermastered by the monks;
The Queen the while to Chester carried captive,
Earl Athulf to the Tower.

Oscar.
In one short day
All this befell?

Wulfstan.
Oh, woe-bewildered day!

Grimbald.
A shout—a hubbub in the camp—our ears
Are but fool's ears, and yet they hear a shout.

Leolf.
A welcome to some friend; as each arrives
They hail him thus, and as the force he brings
Is more or less, so measure they the cry.
This is the loudest I have heard. Look out.

Ernway.
I see no force, my Lord; and but one man,
Who hurries hitherward, and as he comes
They crowd him, and with clapping of their hands
And shouting bring him on. See!

Athulf enters hastily.
Athulf.
Oh, my friend . . .
Leolf . . . Alas! . . . What, Grimbald with you! . . . Nay,
You know it then already. Think no worse
Of us or of our fortunes than they are.
This half-faced treason will not touch the life.
Ill-starred ambition! Oh, my luckless sister!
But think her not endangered.

Leolf.
And yourself?
How came you hither? Were you not in ward?

Athulf.
The Princess with a signet of the King's,
Gold of her own, and promises and tears,
Wrought on my guards. They follow me. Oh, Leolf!
You are avenged. My sister, oh, my sister!
She is not and she could not be forgiven!
God's justice . . .

Leolf.
Athulf, say no more but this;
She stands within the keeping of God's love.
For earthly aid, 'twill reach her with such speed
As earthly love can minister. The light troops
Shall march with me to Cheshire, leaving you
With the main body of my force and those
That soon will join you, to relieve the King.
So shall I check the rising in the West,
Which we must look for else, and so provide
Against extremities and accidents
That else might hurt the Queen. They muster now
And wait me on the ramparts.

Athulf.
I am with you.

[Exeunt Leolf and Athulf.
Oscar.
These are sad tidings.

Emma.
With a frightful force
They tear Earl Athulf, for his hopes were high
And he was crowding canvas. To his friend,
Whom in a foggy grief they found becalmed,
They come but as a vivifying gust
To quicken what was dead: from this time forth
A cry is in his heart, a trumpet-call
That sounds a summons to the rescue: see
If he obey it not.

Oscar.
A settled gloom
Was in his face before.

Emma.
A seated pain
Preyed on him inwards.

Wulfstan.
Ah! that inward pain!
A lobster, should his limb . . .

Grimbald.
Ho! Holla! Ho!
The camp is all in motion. Look! Behold!
The banners fly i' the wind.

Emma.
A token this
That we are soon to march. Get we afoot.

[Exeunt Emma, Oscar, and Grimbald.
Wulfstan.
A lobster, should his limb have eating sores,
Or his articulate coat of mail be pierced,
Snaps the offending member at the joint
And casts it off—such surgery is his;
And as by instinct he, so we by art
Of amputation, easily discard
The outward seats of pain—

Emma
(from behind the scene).
Come, father, come.

Wulfstan.
The outward seats of pain—I will, my child.

Scene II.

—A Chamber in the Tower of London.
Dunstan
(alone).
Kings shall bow down before thee, said my soul,
And it is even so. Hail, ancient hold!
Thy chambers are most cheerful, though the light
Enter not freely; for the eye of God
Smiles in upon them. Cherished by His smile
My heart is glad within me, and to Him
Shall testify in works a strenuous joy.
—Methinks that I could be myself that rock
Whereon the Church is founded,—wind and flood
Raging and rushing, boisterous in vain.
I thank you, Gracious Powers! Supernal Host!
I thank you that on me, though young in years
Ye put the glorious charge to try with fire,
To winnow and to purge. I hear you call!
A radiance and a resonance from heaven
Surrounds me, and my soul is breaking forth
In strength, as did the new-created sun
When earth beheld it first on the fourth day.
God spake not then more plainly to that orb
Than to my spirit now. I hear the call.
My answer, God, and Earth, and Hell shall hear.
But I could reason with thee, Gracious Power,
For that thou giv'st me to perform thy work
Such sorry instruments. The Primate shakes,
Gunnilda totters.—Gurmo!—And of those
That stand for me more absolutely, most
Are slaves through fear, not saints by faith. But no,
I would not they were worthier; for thus
The work shall be the more mine own.
Enter Gurmo.
What now?

Gurmo.
You called.

Dunstan.
I think I did. Send me those Bishops.
[Exit Gurmo.
—More eminently mine own. The Church is great,
Is holy, is ineffably divine!
Spiritually seen and with the eye of faith
The body of the Church, lit from within,
Seems but the luminous phantom of a body;
The incorporeal spirit is all in all.
Eternity â parte post et ante
So drinks the refuse, thins the material fibre,
That lost in ultimate tenuity
The actual and the mortal lineaments,
The Church in time, the meagre, definite, bare
Ecclesiastical anatomy,
The body of this death, translates itself,
And glory upon glory swallowing all
Makes earth a scarce distinguishable speck
In universal heaven. Such is the Church
As seen by faith; but otherwise beheld,
The body of the Church is searched in vain
To find the sojourn of the soul; 'tis nowhere.
Here are two Bishops, but 'tis not in them.
Enter Oswald, Bishop of Worcester, and Ethelwald, Bishop of Winchester.
Save you, my Lords! Are there no seats? A stool—
Fetch me a stool.
[A stool is brought, on which Dunstan seats himself. The Bishops continue standing.
What business brings you here?

Oswald.
Lord Abbot, we have served thee faithfully,
And still obeyed thy voice through many a change.
We would that others, who have done no less
In outward show, were inwardly as true.

Dunstan.
Who fails?

Ethelwald.
We do not say distinctly who,
Nor positively point by point wherein;
But this we say, that we whose hearts are known
From yours inseparable, are no longer prized
By some amongst our brethren as we were.
We hear that Bishops meet by tens and twelves
Unknown to us; we think unknown to you.
We therefore deemed it parcel of our duty
To give you warning.

Dunstan.
Is there more?

Oswald.
To-day
There spreads a rumour that Prince Edgar's force
Met on the Avon by the Heretoch
Was beaten back and scattered. Joining this
To what is surer, that Earl Athulf's power
Creeps close upon us, sundry citizens
That are of credit with the baser sort
About the suburbs, stir them up to riot.

Dunstan.
Doth nothing happen to such men? 'Tis strange;
Good men for whom the Church puts up her prayers
Are daily taken off.

Ethelwald.
'Tis said moreover
The Synod when it meets will not be pure
Nor of one mind.

Dunstan.
'Tis ignorantly said:
I am the Synod's mind. Sirs, you did well
To bring me what had reached you. Leave me now.
Come back at night. The interval use well;
And what you gather give me then to know.
[Exeunt Bishops.
This faction runs ahead. What mean they then?
Why, verily to abuse and by their wiles
Betray the Synod. Nothing less. But God,
Who to the Devil incarnate in the snake
Gave subtlety, denies not to His saints
(So they shall use it to His glory and gain)
The weapon He permitted to the fiend.
Erratic Spirit, here thou art, wild worm
Piercing the earth with subterraneous toil,
And there with wings scouring the darkened sky!
Still do I meet thee; still, wherever met,
I foil thee; sometimes as with Michael's sword,
Sometimes as with thine own. To arms! false Fiend;
We meet to-morrow in the assembled Church.

Scene III.

—Palace of the Archbishop in London.
Odo, with Leofwyn, Bishop of Lincoln, and Fridstan Bishop of Lichfield.
Odo.
It stands not with our honour either way
To be so overridden.

Fridstan.
One sole man,
Though he were Saint uprisen, no charter hath
To lead by the nose the fathers of the Church,
The Archbishop and the Bishops. Zeal is good;
But zeal is one thing when it fasts and prays,
And when it ramps and rages 'tis another.

Leofwyn.
When he refused the bishopric from Edred
My mind misgave me. Oh, I said, this man
Is humble upside-down. He that rejects
With publication and profession loud
Of lowliness, an orderly advancement,
Looks, be assured, what's orderly to pass,
And leave degrees behind.

Fridstan.
Yea, brother, yea;
He that denies himself to be a Bishop
Looks further than is fitting; he means not well;
He thinks to say to us, Go here, go there;
Me, Dunstan, standing sole, the gaping world
Shall gaze at, bidding Bishops stand aside.
This is not right.

Leofwyn.
No, nor canonical.

Odo.
Brethren, when I unfolded all the doubts
That compassed round the cause, the enemy's strength,
The fears, the double faces, the false hearts
That walk amongst us,—reasons all that plead
For caution and some temperate composition,—
He checked and chid me like a troublesome child
That prates at random; bade me know that God
Revealed it otherwise, and he must needs
Believe in God; then calling for a scourge
Said 'twas a time for exercise devout,
And he entreated my good company
For mutual castigation.

Enter Sigeric.
Sigeric.
Honoured Lords,
The wench which had an audience some days since,
Has now returned; an aged man is with her.

Odo.
Admit them both.
[Exit Sigeric.
Now we shall find how far
Earl Athulf will be compromised. Come in.
Re-enter Sigeric, followed by Emma and Wulfstan the Wise.
Good wench, we have expected thee, and thou
Art welcome—but who's this?

Emma.
A man, my Lords,
Known to you all by fame though not by favour;
Wulfstan the Wise.

Odo.
Sir, you are welcome too;
Earl Athulf peradventure deems the knot
Of these affairs worthy your skill and care,
Wherein by message he hath dealt till now
Conveyed us through this envoy, weak by sex,
But verily quick-witted. Sir, we know
Your great renown for wisdom and we hail
Your advent hither; for we deem the Earl,
In calling age and wisdom to his aid,
Is wise though young; and if he be, the terms
We offer are what wisdom will commend
And modesty embrace.

Wulfstan.
My good Lords, far
Beyond my merits doth my fame extend;
But moderation alway have I praised
And peace ensued, and therefore have been held
To mediate not unfit, when Mars attired
In triple steel on this side shakes his spear,
Bellona upon that side mounts her car
By Flight and Terror drawn.

Odo.
You doubtless know
The tenor of our terms,—all regulars
Since Edred's death supplanted to return
Save those who did themselves in Edred's reign
Supplant in benefices duly holden
The secular incumbents—the new Queen
To be acknowledged so soon as the Pope
Shall grant his dispensation. Even you,
Though secular yourselves, must see in this
The scales of justice balanced. To these terms
What saith the brave Earl Athulf?

Emma.
Me, my Lords,
Earl Athulf charged with what from him proceeds;
What from my father (for he is my father)
You hear, be pleased to value at its worth
As his, but not the Earl's.

Leofwyn.
The Earl is wise;
The starling shall be true to what she's taught,
Whilst birds of divination—well—the matter—
How is the Earl inclined to us?

Emma.
My Lords,
The Earl inclines; but ere he shall impledge
Or the Lord Heretoch or himself, he looks
To be assured the Synod late convened
For other ends, will wisdom learn from you,
And set its seal to this.

Odo.
The Earl demands
No more than what is just and right. To-morrow
The Synod meets, and if our voice prevail
Will ratify the terms. But Dunstan still
His purpose holds, and it is rumoured now
Hath secret intercourse with Rome, for ends
Unknown to us.

Leofwyn.
Earl Athulf doubtless knows
The motion may not from ourselves proceed,
But let it be propounded on his part,
Or by the seculars before the Synod,
And we shall so foreshape the minds of men
That by the acclaim of most, if not of all,
It shall be hailed acceptable.

Emma.
My Lords,
The Earl forgot not this, and therefore sends
With me my father, that persuasively
He may, according to his gifts, impart
The proffered compact, with the instances
That recommend it to the assembled Church;
Trusting to you to second and support
What he delivers.

Odo.
Sir, be not afraid,
But speak it roundly.

Emma.
Oh, my Lords, for that,
The spirit within him, when it works to speech,
Fears neither Saint nor Devil.

Leofwyn.
That is well.
Yet touch not Dunstan with too rough a hand,
But rather against us be seen to bear.

Wulfstan.
My Lord Archbishop and Lords Suffragans,
I have considered of my speech, and first
The order of the topics have set down
With notes and comments, if it please you, thus:
Exordium, with a forecast of the close:
A forecast of the close; for mark, my Lords,
An argument or abstract setting forth
In the beginning of my discourse the end,
With index to the bearings and the joints,
Shall quicken you to apprehend my drift,
And by a foreknown relevancy clench
The links and consequents, that so my speech
May, like the serpent with his tail in his mouth,
Rejoin itself, whilst in its perfect round
Its lithe articulation stands approved.

Leofwyn.
We doubt not of your skill, but what in chief
Concerns us, is the matter and the drift.

Wulfstan.
The dangers of division to the realm
I feelingly expose: next I commend
The golden mean,—that wisdom's triumph true
Which seeks no conquest save by wisdom's ways
And scorns to trust to fortune or to force:
Earl Athulf's dispositions shall I then
Duly develop; him shall I disclose
As one whose courage high and humour gay
Cover a vein of caution, his true heart,
Brave though it be, not blind to danger, no,
But through imagination's optic glass
Discerning, yea and magnifying it may be,
What still he dares: him in these colours dressed
I shall set forth as prompt for enterprise
By reason of his boldness, and yet apt
For composition, owing to that vein
Of fancy which enhances, prudence which wards
Contingencies of peril: then from a scroll
Subscribed by him I read the proffered terms,
And in my oratorical conclusion
Draw my speech round to dangers of the realm
Seen in divisions, and the joys of peace.

Odo.
'Tis dexterously devised, and with our aid
Shall win the general suffrage of the Synod;
For certain of your friends the seculars,
By secret incitation heartened up,
Will give their voices. Till the Synod meets,
Beseech you be not seen abroad. Farewell!

Scene IV.

—A fortified causeway leading to a chapel near the Tower of London.—Thorbiorga is discovered leaning with her harp against a parapet in the background. The bell for vespers is ringing, and parties pass towards the chapel. Enter in front a patrol of two Soldiers.
1st Soldier.
A minstrel, is she?

2nd Soldier.
By her garb, I think,
A fortune-teller.

1st Soldier.
I have seen the day
When such would travel with a princely train,
Welcome to clerk and layman, thane and churl;
But they may trudge afoot and lack a meal
Now that the monks are uppermost, God wot!

2nd Soldier.
Filth of the wicked! dotage of the Gentiles!
Is all they get from them. But Heida still
And Thorbiorga, though their state is fallen,
Hold up their heads. I know not but that yon
Is Thorbiorga's self. Pass on this side.

[Exeunt.
Enter Ethilda with Attendants, who pass on.
Ethilda.
Forward, my maidens; I will follow soon.
The sunset with a warm and ruddy light
Colours the coldness of these gloomy walls
And glances in the casements; for the day
Makes a good end. Earl Athulf's emissary
By this time should be here. I think she comes.
Enter Emma.
Maiden, I thank you for your diligence.
Have you the gold? How light a foot is yours!
But is it the Earl's custom to be served
By women in such things?

Emma.
Madam, of me
He had assurance from the Heretoch,
Who knows me from my cradle, and avouched
That I was gifted with a woman's wit
And ready with my tongue; and for my heart,
It had its own fidelity, he said,
And true to him would be if not to truth.

Ethilda.
Yes, so you serve the Heretoch, not Athulf.

Emma.
Earl Athulf at the Heretoch's behest;
And they are so entwined that serving one
Is serving both.

Ethilda.
No, no, you serve not both;
You serve Earl Leolf only.

Emma.
If it please you.
Here is the gold; with this, he said, your way
Would soon be opened to the King, whose heart
Should then be comforted and fortified,
And through his prison doors should see the light,
Expecting his deliverance.

Ethilda.
His heart
Is carefuller for the Queen's than for his own:
Is nothing known of her?

Emma.
Nor yet of her,
Nor of the Heretoch, had tiding reached
Earl Athulf's camp: but I had hope to meet
The sorceress Thorbiorga; by her art,
Or by forerunning of intelligence,
What happens to the Heretoch is hers
So soon as it befalls if not before.
But I have sought her fruitlessly. What's here?
I think I see her now.

Ethilda.
If this be she,
Her errand is to us.

Emma.
Regard her not,
For she is freest of her utterance
When least observed or importuned. Talk on.

Ethilda.
I think I asked you—yes—how looked the Earl
When last you saw him?

Emma.
Wasted much. His hair,
Which was not till this year so much as grizzled,
Is almost grey.

Ethilda.
Earl Athulf grey?

Emma.
No, no,
Earl Leolf, Madam.

Ethilda.
Oh! your pardon. Well,
How looked Earl Athulf?

[Thorbiorga, who has been advancing and touching her harp fitfully, now plays a low prelude.
Emma.
Madam, I may say
Like yonder archway, one half in the shade,
The other in the sun; for hope shines through him.

Thorbiorga
(sings).
By sun and moon,
By fire and flood,
By well and stone,
And ashen wood,
By lot and torch,
By dreams and thunder,
Comes that above
That would be under.

Emma.
She will draw nearer, if you mark her not;
She's cunning and holds off from questioning,
But she will drop you what she has to tell.

Thorbiorga
(sings again).

Ethilda.
She cannot tell us of a victory past
But she must dash the triumph of our joy
With bodings of the future. Be it so;
'Twixt telling and foretelling, one is sure,
The other not.

Emma.
Hush! Madam; she can hear.

Ethilda.
Well, Thorbiorga, hast thou aught to say?

Thorbiorga.
Princess, I may not tarry. To the King
Earl Leolf sends his duty, and therewith
This writing. Fare you well.

[Exit.
Ethilda.
Stay, Thorbiorga.
She's gone; but this shall tell us. Can you read?

Emma
(reads).

“Your Highness shall know that a battle hath been fought
and won. Ella the younger led Prince Edgar's power,
which ran and left him on the field. I have entered into
Staffordshire. Further forward I cannot, and back I
will not. The Queen (whom God preserve!) is in life,
but in durance: wherein she will remain till your
Highness or Earl Athulf can help me. For her safety,
I am assured thereof at present, holding in pawn the
lives of three revolted Earls, which have fallen into my
hands. For her deliverance, should I attempt it of myself,
I should but put her to more hazard. Meantime fear
not that aught can approach you from the West.
“Yours in all duty and fealty,

“The Earl Leolf.”

Ethilda.
This, if I could but to the King convey it,
Would much sustain his spirit.

Emma.
Please you, Madam,
To use the gold I brought you—it is done.

[Trumpets sound at a distance.
Ethilda.
Hark! the patrol comes round; pass to the chapel.

Scene V.

—A Chamber in the Archbishop's Palace.
Wulfstan the Wise and Sigeric, the Archbishop's Secretary.
Sigeric.
With both these puissant Earls, as I hear say,
You have been inward.

Wulfstan.
Yea, Sir, in my time;
With Athulf formerly, with Leolf always.

Sigeric.
Earl Athulf is a merry man accounted.

Wulfstan.
Much mirth he hath, and yet less mirth than fancy;
His is that nature of humanity
Which both ways doth redound, rejoicing now
With soarings of the soul, anon brought low:
For such the law that rules the larger spirits.
This soul of man, this elemental crasis,
Completed, should present the universe
Abounding in all kinds; and unto all
One law is common,—that their act and reach
Stretched to the farthest is resilient ever
And in resilience hath its plenary force.
Against the gust remitting fiercelier burns
The fire, than with the gust it burnt before.

“Existimantur incendia illa qui fiunt flante vento forti, majores progressus facere adversus ventum, quam secundum ventum; quia scilicet flamma resilit motu perniciore, vento remittente, quam procedit, vento impellente.”— Nov. Oraganon, ii. 13.

The richest mirth, the richest sadness too,
Stands from a groundwork of its opposite;
For these extremes upon the way to meet
Take a wide sweep of nature, gathering in
Harvests of sundry seasons.

Sigeric.
These two Earls
Are, certes, the prime spirits of the age.
Yet hardly may we either Earl esteem
A match for Dunstan. From his youth devote
To books, with chemic and mechanic art
Searching the core of things; and then caught up
To Edred's court and favour, studying there
The ways of men and policies of States,
No marvel from such training that he took
An applicable mind; and were he not
Pushed sometimes past the confine of his reason
He would o'ertop the world.

Wulfstan.
Sir, could he sway
His proper passions, he were lord of all.
But he is more their captive than the King,
Poor innocent! is his.

Sigeric.
When others storm
Then only is he calm. 'Twas thought at first
That when the King stood out against the terms
And would not sign, his life would pay the price.
But Dunstan went more craftily to work;
A wasting diet, with perpetual fear
And solitude, he made his ministers,
Himself desisting.

Wulfstan.
His, Sir, you shall find
A spirit subdolous, though full of fire.
A spider may he best be likened to,
Which creature is an adept not alone
In workmanship of nice geometry,
But is besides a wary politician:
He, when his prey is taken in the toils,
Withholds himself until its strength be spent
With struggles, and its spirit with despair;
Then with a patient and profound delight
Forth from his ambush stalks.

Sigeric.
But Dunstan's web
Is woven with a difference. He shrinks,
'Tis said, from taking life, unless inflamed
By anger, or by exigency pressed;
This softness hath he still.

Enter Emma.
Emma.
Why halt you here?
The doors are opened to the ante-room,
It will be crowded soon; I pray you, come.
Earl Sidroc, in a Notary's apparel,
Will follow you, and waits you here without.

Sigeric.
You have the Archbishop's pass?

Wulfstan.
Yes, here it is.

Emma.
I can pass too; I have cajoled with smiles
The High Gerefa's man that keeps the door.
How tardy old friends are; how prompt are new!
Taken in the flower and freshness of good-will
My friend of yesterday will run his ears
Into some risk to please me. On my back
He'll put a surplice, and amongst the choir
I sing the psalm. But linger not, I pray.

Sigeric.
The passage to the left—I think you know it.
Come, I will show you.

Emma.
I beseech you, Sir,
When you address the Synod, wander not;
Be mindful of the purpose.

Wulfstan.
Yes, my child;
I'll sit the purpose close. Truly a light
That shines not in its place is worse than none;
And when the thought is prized above the purpose,
'Tis Jack o' the Lanthorn speaks. Oh, Sir, your pardon!

Scene VI.

—A Chamber in the Tower.
Dunstan
(alone).
If miracles were wrought in the olden time
More needful are they now. 'Tis He! 'tis He!
'Tis God that speaks; His will, His word, His voice.
But erring men, because their eyes behold
The channel, undiscerning of the source,
Misdeem His voice for mine. Through sight they err;
Through seeing what is fleshly they are deaf
In spirit, nor can know the voice of God.
Oh, that the grace were given me to tear off
These mummeries and maskings of the flesh,
That so their souls, delivered and discharged
From vain bewilderments of sense, redeemed
From human 'scapes and diabolic wiles,
Should know 'tis verily God's voice they hear!
Then what if in the Synod . . . what if there . . .
Enter Oswald, Bishop of Worcester, and Ethelwald, Bishop of Winchester.
Whom have we now? So, so! what cheer, my Lords?
Or, let me say, what tiding? For our cheer,
If God be gracious to us, flies not round
With every gust.

Oswald.
The Synod is assembling
With seculars commixed. We hear that still
Earl Athulf hangs at Tonbridge; but his force
Daily increaseth. It is good we go.
This hour we meet the Synod in good heart,
What cometh with the next we know not.

Dunstan.
Nay,
Who trusteth knoweth. To the Synod then;
But let us be expected for a season
Before we show ourselves.

Scene VII.

—An Entrance Hall opening into a Gallery which leads to the Synodal Chamber.—It is filled with Monks, Guards, and Attendants. Two of the Gerefa's or High Sheriff's Deputies are in front. Ecclesiastics of rank, including two or three Abbesses, pass through more and more frequently as the scene proceeds, not unmixed with Civil and Military Functionaries. Each Ecclesiastic is attended by an Acolyte as a train-bearer.
1st Deputy.

Here they come. What! a secular! Well, he must pass, though he shall not be welcome.

2nd Deputy.

There are more than he.

1st Deputy.

They are stricken deer; I would not come amongst the herd if I were they.

2nd Deputy.

I never saw Dunstan's chair before. 'Tis a choice piece of workmanship.

1st Deputy.

He made it himself, and they say if another were to sit in it, it would toss him in the air. He
can make anything, and make it do his bidding.

2nd Deputy.

But should his chair be set above the Archbishop's?

1st Deputy.

It was so ordered, and indeed he that is above the King is more than one step above the
Archbishop. King, said I! Who knows whether there be a King, or in which brother's reign we that are living
live?

2nd Deputy.

Hush! Speak not so.

1st Deputy.

Nay, 'tis the way of the beehive, and courts are no better. Make way, Sirs, if it please you.
No offence. Sirs, 'tis my office. Farther back, I pray.

2nd Deputy.
Here's Godredud.

1st Deputy.
I say ye shall make room;
What though he be a secular? he's noble
And of a generous life.

A Monk.
Six meals a day,
With morat and spiced ale, is generous living.
Also the gout he hath is generous.

Another Monk.
Bed, board, nor bath, he never yet forewent
The joys of for a day. Look at his tonsure;
A well-grown acorn's cup would cover it.

Enter amongst others, Wulfstan the Wise, habited as an Ecclesiastic, and Sidroc in the dress of a Notary.
Sidroc
(aside to Wulfstan).
Let us stand here, and reckon as they pass
The numbers on each side.

Enter Emma in a surplice, with a band of Choristers.
Emma
(aside to the 1st Deputy).
Aha! my friend,
Know'st thou the merry wench?

1st Deputy.
Nay, softly; hush!
But pass no further yet; here you shall stand,
And I will tell you, as they come, who's who.
The first of men! the Angels of the Church!
I know them all, and most of them . . . Room, ho!
The Abbot of St. Winifred's—Room, room!
And most of them I call my friends.

Sidroc
(aside to Wulfstan).
The newt
Lived much amongst the tadpoles, and averred
He was acquainted with all kinds of fish.

1st Deputy.
Here is the Abbot Morcar with one hand.
A woman kissed the other, for which cause
He chopped it off. He emulates St. Arnulph,
And wears a shirt of hedgehog skins. No need
To clear the way for him.

Emma.
Sirs, push me not.
No, they fall back unbidden.

1st Deputy.
And here is Monn,
The Abbot of St. Clive's, that heals the sick
And makes the dumb to speak. From far and near
Thousands and thousands make resort to him,
And them that may not for infirmity
He goes to; or if so be he cannot go,
He sends his walking-stick, which does as well.

Emma.
See how they press around him.

1st Deputy.
Room, I say,
Place for the Abbot of St. Clive's!—Lo, there
Cumba, the Priest of Sherborne; more than twice
Has he changed sides; but he's so mild and sweet
That there are ever some to hold him up.
Betwixt the monks and secular Church half-way
Stands Cumba, smiling upon both.

Sidroc
(aside).
A chicken
Is good for breakfast, and an egg is good;
But something half-way 'twixt an egg and chicken
Is very vilely bad.

1st Deputy.
And truth to say,
His faith is mounted on his charity
And sits it easy.

Sidroc
(aside).
Cumba is my gauge,
And by the crown of his head I know the times.
Grow they ascetic, then his tonsure widens;
Or free, it narrows in.

The tonsure was enforced upon the secular clergy, as well as on the regulars; and as the Anglo-Saxons were very proud of their hair, this was a point of discipline which sometimes gave rise to difficulties.

Emma.
What man is this,
[Pointing to Wulfstan.
With large round silvery head and fair round face
And those lost eyes so lustrous that see nothing?
Tell me what man is he.

1st Deputy.
Some country priest;
A man one sees and makes no mention of;
He had his pass or I had questioned him,
For with my will a priest so meanly clad
And slovenly, should take his rags elsewhere.

Sidroc
(aside).
Dogs take distinctions, learning from mankind
A worldly lesson, and the beggar's stayed
When lace and gawds go free.—What say you, Sir?

1st Deputy.
To you, Sir? nothing.

[A cry without of “Place for the Archbishop.” A flourish of trumpets, and enter divers Officers of the Archbishop's household in procession. Then the Archbishop, attired in splendid vestments and preceded by Sigeric and Bridferth bearing his mass-book and crucifix. He is supported on the right by the Bishop of Lincoln, on the left by the Bishop of Lichfield, and followed by a long train of Officers and Attendants.
Odo
(returning the obeisances with which he is received as he passes through).
The blessing of God's peace,
my sons, be on you;
And I beseech you, pray that by God's grace
Our counsels may be prospered to His glory.

[Passes with his train into the Gallery.
1st Monk.
The Primate is too ancient for the times;
He is too sudden when he's choleric,
Too slow when he's at ease.

2nd Monk.
He's shaken both ways.

A Thane.
The Primate looks an inch or two less tall
Than he was wont, methinks; nor is his step
So firm as once it was.

An Acolyte.
Time, Sir, and care.

Sidroc
(aside).
Or peradventure sin and fear.—Good father,
Saw you my Lord the Archbishop pass?

Wulfstan.
My son?

Sidroc.
Saw you my Lord the Primate?

Wulfstan.
Yes, my son.
Was it not he that passed in gold and purple?

Sidroc.
The same. We wait but for the Abbot now.

Wulfstan.
The Abbot?

Sidroc.
Dunstan. He is first and last.
Methinks the muster of the seculars
Is stronger than was looked for. What is this?
Hark! Hist! A hum as of a multitude
Without the gates. Permit me, Sirs. He comes.

Enter Dunstan solus, clad in sackcloth, with ashes on his head and a missal in his hand. The foremost of the crowd fall upon their knees and bow their heads as he approaches.
Dunstan.
Fear ye and tremble, ye that love the Church,
For wolves are round about her. Watch and pray.

[Passes into the Gallery.
Sidroc.
Pass on, pass on; the benches will be thronged.
Stick close to me, good father. God ha' mercy!
Sir, I beseech you to remit your elbow.

1st Deputy.
Keep order, constables! what a fray is here!

Sidroc.
Could we but pass this friar, all were won.
St. Hilda! what a mountain of a friar!
Sir, pray you die and do the Church some service;
You'd choke the way to Hell.—Now is the time;
Come, father, come; stick close to me; here, here.
Knock down that chorister. I thank you, Sir.

Scene VIII

—The Synodal Chamber.
—The first only of those who passed from the Hall into the Gallery in the preceding scene are present at the opening of this. At the further end, within a silver rail, is the Shrine of St. Austin, with its cross. At the hither end, near the door, are the High Gerefa and the Doorkeeper.
Gerefa.
So—bar the door; all those we want we have,
And more.

Doorkeeper.
The gallery without is full,
And none are there but have the Archbishop's pass.

Gerefa.
Too many have it. Bar the doors. What's this?
The precinct of St. Austin's Shrine is dark.
It should be lighted.

Doorkeeper.
Yea, Sir, and it was.

Gerefa.
And who put out the lights?

Doorkeeper.
I know not that.

Gerefa.
Well; bar the doors.

Doorkeeper.
I cannot for this friar.

Gerefa.
Then let him pass.

Doorkeeper.
'Twill scarce be he alone.

[The Friar enters, and is followed by Sidroc, Wulfstan,and others.
Gerefa.
What, more and more! I tell thee, shut them out.
[The doors are closed.
Now, let us all with all our best of breath
Shout, “Silence!”
[Shouts of “Silence!”
In the name and by the power
Of holiest Mother Church, I here declare
This Synod opened. The Archbishop speaks.

Odo.
Friends, brethren, helpmates, councillors in Christ!
The dangers and divisions of the Church
Have called you hither. Be ye all as one.
For though the letter of citation saith
“Semotis Laicis,” yet to one end
Are we assembled all,—concord and peace,
And whosoever hath God's peace at heart,
Him we rejoice to meet.
Since last I saw you here, that virtuous King,
The godly Edred, hath been hence translated,
And Edwin hath succeeded, who is young.
King Edwin, Sirs, descended of a house
Illustrious no less for piety
Than earthly honours, could not but abound,
At first and by the fashioning of nature,
In Christian graces: but, Sirs, being young,
He, through the easiness of youth betrayed
To bad advice and making haste to err,
Did what was not convenient in a King.
For first from many a monastery, sown
Throughout the land in Edred's bounteous reign,
With violence and with force of arms he drave
Our Benedictine brethren—not alone
Them that were placed by Edred in the shoes
Of seculars that by Edred were expulsed,
But ancient men that had been there aforetime.
And next, Sirs, which is chiefly what concerns
Our present meeting,—next, Sirs, did he marry;
And whom, Sirs, did he marry? One like himself,
Though doubtless graced with many virtues, young
And erring, and in nothing more astray
Than in this marriage; being, as they are,
Cousins in the second degree and undispensed.
This marriage, Sirs, contracted by surprise,
Was scandalous, as ye know, to all good men
And grievous to the Church; and weighing well
What evil fruit to these and after times
Might of its hasty consummation grow,
We deem'd it best that this unbedded bride
Should visit Chester, there to live recluse
Until the assembled Church of what had chanced
Were advertised. 'Tis therefore ye are here.
Councillors in Christ, the cause ye meet to judge
Is, briefly, shall this marriage stand or no?

Sidroc
(aside to Wulfstan).
Stop; Cumba fumbles with the folds of his alb;
I think he'll speak; withhold yourself awhile.

Odo.
Sirs, I await your censures. For myself
I humbly seek instruction, which till I glean
From worthier men, my judgment shall be dumb.

Cumba.
Most holy fathers and my brethren all!
To most of you 'tis known that from my youth
I have revered the regulars; excellent men,
Whom though to imitate had been in me
Alas! a vain endeavour, yet to praise
Has been my constant care. Sirs, of this praise
And of this reverence and constant care
I will not bate a jot; for what I was
At first, I am, and will be evermore.
But to the end unchangeable, the ways
Are various as the paths upon the sea;
And though 'tis by the stars the vessel steers,
Yet lies she with the wind. The choice of ways
That opens to you now, doth split itself
Into two opposites—the ways of war,
The ways of peace; and who betwixt the twain
Shall stand with dubious or divided heart?
When has the Church been prosperous but in peace?
What multiplies the monasteries? Peace.
What breeds endowments, treasures, and demesnes?
Why, peace. Then shall we not consult for peace?
But if we void this marriage, peace is flown;
War that ev'n now stands knocking at the gate
Must then be bid come in; nor present blows
Shall arbitrate an end, but years unborn
May in the issue of this marriage see
A hand, a sword, a claimant of the crown,
A cause of strife. I grant the marriage rash;
But out of common life this lesson cull:
A marriage unadvisedly contracted
By a hot stripling, in the parent's heart
Kindles a flame at first; but useless ire
Is transient with the wise; for were it not,
Age should in anger more exorbitate
Than youth in love. The parent pacified
Binds by a frank forgiveness to himself
In bonds of gratitude his erring son:
And even as he his son, I deem the Church
With reconciling and reclaiming love
Shall conquer back the King. My humble voice,
Bending to better judgments, thus concludes.

Morcar.
O thou dead fly that spoilest the pot! O grub!
O maggot gendered in a serpent's slime!
God spat thee out for being neither hot nor cold,
Thou Mammon's friend, and Lucifer licked thee up.
Woe to thee, Judas! Art thou not accursed?
Thou dippest with us in the dish, but lo!
Thou has betrayed us for a piece of money!
O shame! O sin! O havoc to the Church!
The Devil shall hang thee up to dry, thou rag!
For thou art soaked and saturate with sin.

Odo.
Forbear him, brother.

Morcar.
O thou filthy rag!

Odo.
I say, forbear him.

Godredud.
Brother, art thou mad?
He is no traitor, but a faithful priest.
Why dost thou rail upon him thus!

Odo.
Forbear!

Morcar.
Cry out and cease not! saith the voice I hear—
Search out the sleights of Bel and slay the Dragon;
And who saith, Cease, be dumb!

Odo.
I say it, brother;
Yea, I command thee, cease. Our brother Monn
Is wishful to be heard; speak, brother Monn.

Monn.
My loving friends and brethren, we are met
Upon this marriage, not to speak our own
But to declare God's judgments, never yet
Made manifest by such apparent signs,
Such prodigies and portents. Think, oh, think
Upon the darkness of that marriage day!
Throughout the land a dismal horror spread;
In Essex it rained blood; at Evesham
An image of the Virgin, as ye know,
Was seen to weep and sweat and lift its hands
And roll its eyes; at Selsey and at Wells
The vault of heaven was fill'd with falling stars,
And fiery serpents weltered in the skies.
Have we forgotten that these things befel,
Or know we not their import? Then, alas!
Are we more careless of the cause of God
Than Gallio, more blind than Elymas.
But if we bear in mind that such things were,
We must not, dare not, judge what God hath judged.

Godredud.
The worthy Abbot, by my faith, my Lords,
Doth excellently well to bid us weigh
These miracles and signs. They signified,
Doubtless, some untoward events, my Lords;
But what those untoward events should be
Behoves us not too rashly to deliver;
Divisions in the realm, it may be, war,
Implacable revenge and hatred dire
And wrath which wills not that its wounds be healed.
The birthday of a progeny like this
Would doubtless teem with warnings, which to blink
Or read awry should work us infinite woe.
But to those premonitions further signs
Constructive and illustrative succeed;
And now two armies in the south and west
Auspiciously afoot, give countenance
To Edwin's cause as favoured from above,
And warn us, if fair terms of composition
Be offered, not to spurn them.

Sidroc.
(aside to Wulfstan).
Now, now, now;
Stand up and speak—produce them.

Wulfstan.
Here they are,
Most noble Godredud; here are the terms:
“I, Athulf, Earl, intent on sparing life,
But purposing to lodge on Ludgate Hill
At latest in three days, to all concerned
Send greeting and say thus: All regulars,
Since Edred's death supplanted, may return,
Save those who did themselves, in Edred's reign,
Supplant in benefices duly holden
The secular incumbents; the new Queen
Shall be received, and so soon as the Pope
Shall grant his dispensation, shall be crowned:
Which yielded, no man in his life or goods
Shall answer for the past.”—My Lords and friends,
These are the terms I bring you from Earl Athulf,
And I am Wulfstan.
[Acclamations from the Secular party, mingled with shouts of rage and execrations from the other.
Brethren, hear me speak;
Brethren and friends, I fain would speak to you;
My friends and brethren, hear me, I beseech you.

Odo.
My sons, this passion and this noise I hold
Unworthy this assembly. Hear him speak,
For he was never factious nor inflamed
Against us, and 'tis just that he be heard.

[Acclamations from the Seculars.
Wulfstan.
I am not factious, brethren, nor inflamed,
For my abode was always, so to say,
Oh Mount Olympus—

Monn.
Fie upon thee, Pagan!
Oh, but I know thee and thy place full well.

Wulfstan.
On Mount Olympus with the Muses nine
I ever dwelt . . .

Monks.
He doth confess it! Lo!
He doth confess it! Faggots and a stake!
He is a Heathen—shall a Heathen speak?

Morcar.
I hear a voice that saith, “Make lime of his bones.”

Sidroc.
Sirs, ye mistake him; he is a pious priest,
And what he means to say is merely this:
Against your orders and your monasteries
He speaks not; but he deems that holiest men,
If they would flourish in this warlike world,
Must feed within a fence of secular swords;
And better were it for you to engulf
But half the kingdom's treasure, so begirt,
Than to be left defenceless with the whole,
And thus be fattened but to feed the Dane.
He bids you know that in this land this day
He finds more fat than bones, more monks than men:

I have taken the words of Fuller: “Indeed, one may safely affirm that the multitudes of monasteries invited the invasion and facilitated the conquest of the Danes over England . . . . because England had at this time more flesh or fat than bones, wherein the strength of a body consists; more monks than military men.” — Church History, Book ii. s. 51

He bids you to the seaboard look, where now
A fleet of Northmen, fifty-six tall ships,
Hang in St. George's Channel, waiting there
Till half the land shall cut each other's throats
And leave the other half a spoil to them.
Bethink you, then; escape ye hardly may
From the two puissant and prudent Earls,
Athulf and Leolf; but this granted you,
Ye do but fall a weak and present prey
To Sweyne and Olaf; wherefore make your choice
And thrive in peace or brave a twofold ruin.

Priest.
Well said!

Monk.
Who's this?

Another.
A lambskin man he is;
A fellow that puts his legs in lambskin hose.

Morcar.
The Lord shall smite him with the botch of Egypt.

Several Secular priests
(joined by some of the Monks, amidst clamour and confusion).
We will have peace; we are not men of blood;
Are we not Christians all? The Dane—the Dane!
Are we not servants of the Prince of Peace?
The Northmen are upon us—Olaf and Sweyne!

[Dunstan throws himself on his knees and bows his head to the ground.
Sidroc.
(aside to Wulfstan).
He bends before the storm.

Wulfstan.
Will he not speak?

Sidroc.
I know not—yes—he is in act to hatch
A brood of pestilent words; yea, is he not?
He stirs, he moves—few moments are enough.

Wulfstan.
They say a louse that's but three minutes old
May be a grandsire; with no less a speed
Do foul thoughts gender.

Sidroc.
Ha! we'll see anon—
Faith of my body! up he goes—sit—sit.

Dunstan
(rising slowly).
I groan in spirit. Brethren, seek not in me
Support or counsel. The whole head is sick,
The whole heart faint, and trouble and rebuke
Come round about me, thrusting at my soul.
But, brethren, if long years of penance sore,
For your sake suffered, be remembered now,
Deem me not utterly of God forsaken,
Deem not yourselves forsaken; lift up your hearts;
See where ye stand on earth; see how in heaven
Ye are regarded. Ye are the sons of God,
The order of Melchisedeck, the law,
The visible structure of the world of spirit,
Which was, and is, and must be; all things else
Are casual, and monarchs come and go,
And warriors for a season walk the earth,
By accident; for these are accidental,
But ye eternal; ye are the soul of the world,
Ye are the course of nature consecrate,
Ye are the Church; one spirit is throughout you,
And Christendom is with you in all lands.
Who comes against you? 'Scaped from Hell's confine
A wandering rebel, fleeting past the sun,
Darkens the visage of the spouse of Christ.
But 'tis but for a moment; he consumed
Shall vanish like a vapour, she divulged
Break out in glory that transcends herself.
The thrones and principalities of earth,
When stood they that they stood not with the aid
Of us and them before us? Azarias,
Azias, Amaziah, Saul himself,
Fell they not headlong when they fell from us?
And Oza, he that did but touch the ark?
Oh, then, what sin for me, what sin for you,
For me victorious in a thousand fights
Against this foe, for you as oft redeemed,
That now we falter! Do we falter? No!
Thou God that art within me when I conquer,
I feel Thee fill me now! Angelic host,
Seraphs that wave your swords about my head,
I thank you for your succours! Who art thou
That givest me this gracious admonition?
Alas! forgive me that I knew thee not,
O, Gabriel! I do as thou command'st;
All earthly counsels I renounce, abjure,
And utterly abhor. I ask of God,
Is it His will that this His chosen Church
Shall ratify these nuptials? Hark! oh, hark!
Nay, heard ye not a voice? Oh, Earth, be still!
Again and louder—Absit hoc ut fiat!

A voice
from the precinct of St. Austin's Shrine.
Absit hoc ut fiat!

Dunstan.
Wondrous word!
Oh, precious guidance! Oh, ineffable grace!
That dost from disobedience deliver
The hearts of even the faithless! We obey,
And these espousals do we now declare
Avoided and accursed; the woman espoused,
By name Elgiva, from the man called Edwin
We separate, and from the Church's pale
We cast her forth, and with her we cast forth
Those three that have been foremost to uphold her,
Earl Athulf and Earl Leolf and Earl Sidroc.
Them we proclaim, by sentence of the Pope,
From Christian rites and ministries cut off,
And from the holy Brotherhood of the Just
Sequestered with a curse. Be they accursed!
Accursed be they in all time and place,
Accursed be they in the camp and mart,
Accursed be they in the city and field,
Accursed be their flying and abiding,
Accursed be their waking and their rest—
We curse the hand that feeds them when they hunger,
We curse the arm that props them when they faint;
Withered and blasted be that hand and arm!
We curse the tongue that speaks to them, the ear
That hears them, though it be but unawares:
Blistered and cankered be that tongue and ear!
The earth in which their bodies shall be buried
We curse, except it cast their bodies out;
We shut the gates of Heaven against their souls,
And as this candle that I fling to the ground,
So be their light extinguished in the Pit!

Morcar and other Monks.
Amen! So be it! Be it so! Amen!

Sidroc
(aside to Wulfstan).
The day is lost—away—skip—scud—begone.

Sidroc and Wulfstan, with others of the Secular party, retire amidst the shouts and execrations of the Regulars.
Dunstan.
Publish the miracle without the gates;
Declare the sentence of the Pope.

Odo.
Fly hence,
Ye that are Secular! They will rouse the people;
There will be violence and blood; fly hence.
This council is dismissed. The grace of God
Be with you all! This Synod is dissolved.