Gregory VII A Tragedy |
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 | Gregory VII |  |
SCENE I.
—Cloisters of St. John Lateran.Enter Guido, Centius, and Eberardus.
Gui.
(to Eberardus).
Archdeacon of Rome!
Cen.
And by a lynx-trap,
Wherein he snared a wise and watchful man,
Whose face had sharpened with his midnight thoughts.
Gui.
Archdeacon of Rome, and Abbot of St. Paul!
Ebe.
This Hildebrand was but a lowly monk,
'T is not long since,—so have I heard, my lords?
Cen.
Lowly!
Ebe.
Methinks he 's learned and devout?
Gui.
Far more ambitious; darkening beneath a cloud
Of large designs. You are deceived, my lord.
The pious father with the pausing step—
Once pacing slow through deep dim-lighted walls;
A moving image pondering o'er its clay—
Now plants his heel with regular ascent;
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As though his war-horse waited at the gate.
Ebe.
I know him powerful: the present Pope
Was by his influence seated in the chair.
Gui.
In opposition to Rome's highest nobles,
Who Cadolaus chose. And wherefore thus
Did Hildebrand stretch forth his iron arm?
Not from pure love, not from pure reverence
For the mild virtues of Pope Alexander,
But that he knows him weak, and governs him—
The gilded organ-pipe of his high will.
Cen.
'T is strictly true, my lord; and presently
Swarth Hildebrand to aged Mantius hied—
The late Archdeacon of Rome—beseeching him
To rest him from his cares, and in mean time
Make him his deputy. Obtaining this,
After some pious scruples touching duty,
Unto Pope Alexander straight he sped,
And blazoning his credentials for the office
Rendered by Mantius in full confidence,
Swore that his grace was superannuate,
Unfit for duty, and should be deposed!
Gui.
(looking upward).
Ay, thus it was: bear witness!
Ebe.
By such means
Hath he obtained this last new dignity?
Cen.
He hath: be sure of it. He is a man
Who drives his conscience like a slave before him,
While as a task-master it doth follow others.
This gives him vantage ground.
Gui.
Whereon he wields
A scourge that makes the Vatican pavement stones
Cry sacrilege and heresy! But full soon,
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To leave our church's tutelage, and assume
His sceptered rights, this haughty abbot's deeds
Shall be made palpable, as will his throes
When the red lights of doom shall wanton o'er him!
Enter Hildebrand, behind.
Ebe.
He must be humbled.
Cen.
'T were no easy task.
Gui.
(to Ebe.)
Humbled, my lord! degraded utterly!
Yes, humbled first, and then cast to the dogs
That howl through Rome, filled with his devilishness.
Sir, your imperial master must know all.
Hil.
(coming forward).
He shall!
Ebe.
You have heard serious words, my lord.
Cen.
Sir, there 's none here who would retract his words.
Hil.
Why should he?—What ye have said—referring, doubtless,
Unto the late archdeacon—is most true.
Old and infirm; incompetent through his cunning,
Which riddled policy, 'twas fit he left us.
Moreover, of his time he ill disposed:
Squared down astrology for private ends,
And innovation bred of controversy;
Read books of vanities and high romance,
Like my lord Guido's “Commentaries.”
Gui.
How!
Profanity—rank blasphemy! Ye heard him?
Hil.
Still, the sometime archdeacon had his virtues.
Cen.
We spake of the present archdeacon, Hildebrand.
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It is the same—it is the same, my friends,
Whate'er ye spake.
Gui.
(to Ebe.)
The placid arrogance!
Cen.
Think of meek piety; then hear him preach.
Ebe.
Archdeacon, you lack courtesy.
[Organ peals within.
Hil.
My lords,
The mass your souls' devout attendance claims!
We bless the Emperor's journey with the day
That gives the last tint to his ripened age
For temporal government. Firm be his faith!
Our prayers he needs; for much, I fear, his sense
Hungers for luxury, pomps, and violent wars;
Whereto, in all, I judge his nature apt,
By the hot humours of his private talk;
The sanguine colour baked into his skin;
His large, long arms, and his unsettled face;
His blood-shot eyes, and lips that seldom close,
Gui.
This portrait smacks of treason!
Hil.
Our sovereign lord,
The Pontiff, will the homily deliver
In person: I exhort ye, come and hear—
(aside)
The Pontiff whom I set i'the supreme chair!
[Exit.
Gui.
(to Ebe.)
Marked you his action?
Cen.
Like a machinist,
He stalks to hear the creature he hath made.
Gui.
And calls us to admire the mockery!
But come, my lord; we know not what may chance
In turbulent times of change.
[Exeunt Guido and Eberardus.
Cen.
Why, that is true;
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Like oozy weeds in Nile's broad overflow,
Whose ebbing waves beckon with glittering joy
Fertility's advance. There 's some fresh plot
Gathering in Guido's soul; but good hopes oft
In good mens' hearts will blossom 'midst all ills;
So let the seasons work.
Enter Fabio and Tancredi.
Tan.
I fear we are late.
Cen.
(aside).
Nobles of Guido's party. (Aloud).
Why such haste, sirs?
Fab.
His holiness e'en now performs high mass
For the young Emperor.
Cen.
We are in good time:
If not, our absence will disturb no thought.
So dense the crowd, I doubt if you'd find room
To stick a rapier upright there, unless
You sheathed it in the broad back of some monk.
Fab.
A jest that savours of impiety.
Tan.
You're pleasant, sir.
Cen.
A pleasant scene you 've missed.
Erewhile, Count Eberardus, with discourse
Of lilied fragrance, rich in dazzling terms,
Such as an emperor loves, to Guido spake
In raptures of his “poem;” whereupon
Guido's bright eyes, small hawk-nose, and fat chin,
Shone all a-light with pleasure in extreme,
Which suddenly his mounting thoughts inspired
Straightway to catch at interest in the church,
Right through the scattered muses. Soon he cleared
His breast of half its load of Hildebrand;
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His heaven-ward hand, to shew his filbert nails
And topaz rings, but never losing sight
Of Hildebrand.
Fab.
In which keen work you joined?
Cen.
Doubtless I did: you know I hate the man.
When, all unseen, at height of our discourse—
[Organ peals within. The strain pauses abruptly. Noise, and confused voices.
Fab.
What may this mean?
Tan.
Hath the church taken fire?
Cen.
I heard the voice of Hildebrand!
[Increased noise within.
Enter hurriedly, Guido, Eberardus, Brazute, and several Nobles.
Gui.
Shame! shame!
Oh, frightful violence—profane and brutish—
It pinnacles all crimes, all thought outshoots,
Touching God's footstool with a sharp assault!
Fab., Tan.
What is 't?—what is 't?
Cen.
Nay, gentlemen; explain!
Gui.
Who shall set forth the deed;
Who give a shaping language to its bulk!
Far as mere words can tell—stay, give me breath!—
To the hushed multitude, Pope Alexander
Discoursing solemnly, and pouring forth
Paternal hopes, yet duteous love, for Henry,
Avowed he would not hold pontifical power,
Save with full sanction from the Emperor's throne.
From his high place the holy man came down,
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Like to a demon, met him on the stairs,
And shouting “Dotard!” smote him in the face
With hand as heavy as a lion's paw,
And seemed prepared to rend him!
All.
Monstrous deed!
[Increased noise and confusion within.
Enter hurriedly, a crowd of Nobles, Cardinals, Bishops, and Monks; followed by Hildebrand, with outspread arms.
Hil.
Form no decision; hear me first I say!
Form no decision; fie on irrational tongues,
And hasty judgments; noise and blind reproof!
Are ye a deafening land-storm wildly raging,
And would ye tear the sheltering forest down?
Trust not yourselves upon a barren heath;
Trust not the Emperor's frail and worldly strength;
Look to the See of Rome! but look ye well
That giant-power be emblemed by a giant,
Not by a yeanling lamb. Oh, sons of Rome—
Nobles and dignitaries of the church—
Pardon me! pardon me a fatal act—
I mean the ignorance of erring choice—
I mean the choice of weakness 'stead of strength—
I mean the installation of Pope Alexander.
Lo! he hath perilled all your rights and power;
Your fortunes, and the purity of your faith;
The very stature of the pontifical office.
Behold, the corner stone o' the Vatican
Trembled! I rushed to save it from the crash,
And in the doing did forget myself
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Pope Alexander I pronounce a worm!
Ye must not let him teach us how to crawl
Before an emperor's footstool: rather say
He shall be cast down from the Pontiff's seat,
Whereon my ignorance besought ye place him!
[Murmurs of dissatisfaction, and applause.
Braz.
It shall be done!
Tan.
Who tells thee so, lord Cardinal?
1st Car.
My lord Archdeacon speaks with reason.
Cen.
With reason!
Gui.
No; with madness! with ambition!
Hil.
Shall I set you in his place?
2nd Car.
The Pope's vicegerency is given by God.
Fab.
Hear my lord Cardinal!
2nd Car.
'T is our great law!
1st Car.
Let 's to the Council!
Voices.
To the Council!
Hil.
Oh, most humbly—to the council!
Gui.
Proud Abbot of St. Paul, and Rome's Archdeacon,
Have a care!
Hil.
To the Council, my Lord Archbishop!
I will have care, and you shall thank me for it:
Most humbly—to the Council—to the Council!
[Exeunt.
| Gregory VII | |