University of Virginia Library

Scene IV.

—Within the Council-hall. The outer chamber. Anselm and Eadmer.
Anselm.
Edmer, that I should not appeal to Rome,
They ask this of me? I appeal to God
To guide me to the threshold of His saints.
I must away. ... It is an agony
That urges me. I must behold the face
Of Christ's great soldier, hear of holy wars.
It is insufferable I should be fined
For sorry trim and escort of my troops,
Or bear reproach from any over-lord
Save Him who may most righteously complain
That I have wronged Him in my negligence.

Eadmer.
How bitterly you weep!—sevenfold your grief
Like the dear Mother's.

Anselm.
I must flee the world;
Necessity is on me. I will start
Barefoot and naked to the holy hills,
A penitent, and pray for my own peace.

Eadmer.
The flock, my father, the unsheltered souls?

Anselm.
O Edmer, I went lonely as a child
To pour my angry heart out unto Heaven,
And the Lord smiled, and set me down to feast
Who paused not by the idling harvesters.
I must complain to Him.

Eadmer.
'Tis marvellous.
You speak of Rome as 'twere Jerusalem.

Anselm.
There God hath left His shadow upon earth;
There is the Bride, the Church; there shall I hear
The Bridegroom's voice delighting over her;
There is the door to the warm-breathing fold,
The Shepherd's blessing, and the pasture's peace.

Eadmer.
Dear master, I am eager to be gone.

Anselm.
Nay, but the pang and the extremity,
The joy that is too much.

[Enter Messenger.]
Messenger.
My lord, the king
Conveys his pleasure thus:—

Anselm.
My will is fixed;
I cleave to God.

Messenger.
He graciously allows
You leave his kingdom; in eleven days
Be ready at the haven to receive
A messenger, who duly shall provide
You and your escort for the pilgrimage.

Eadmer.
Then shall we onward? You are sick at heart,
Home-sick for holiness: you languish here.
We'll straightway to our quarters, and be glad
In happy preparation.

Anselm
[to Messenger, pointing to inner chamber].
Is he there,
The king?

Messenger.
The audience is broken up;
The bishops and the courtiers intermix,
And, past the boundary of our monarch's ears,
Lament the land's bereavement.

Anselm.
But the king?

Messenger.
He is not wrathful; he sits moodily
And meditates beside your grace's chair
Without an oath or gesture. I ne'er saw
His busy face so still.

Anselm.
Edmer—O God,
Why dost Thou set my love upon the damned?
Do not I nightly wrestle for the soul
Of Osbern, my beloved? Now in mine age
Must I take on my heart the infamies
Of this blasphemer? [To Messenger.]
I will speak with him.
[Aside.]
Alas! how oft
He hath broke in upon my happy hours
Of contemplation! Can it be, in Rome
I shall forget him? I will say farewell.

[He signs to the Messenger to conduct him to the King. A curtain is drawn back, an inner chamber discovered The King on a throne; a vacant chair beside him. At some distance the retiring Bishops and Courtiers are seen conversing.
Rufus
[after a long pause].
He shall be banished; from this holy man
I will break loose. God is but poorly served
In His omnipotence. His hirelings flee
Being a-hired, and care not for the flock.
I and the devil in duality
Will sceptre England, haply Rome itself,
And mock this Anselm with his scallop-shell
I'll gird him now. He hath stood over me
(My neck beneath his foot) we have changed place;
He shall make restitution and amends
For this annoyance and the sorry aid
He furnished me; and I will banish him. ...
True, his dove's spirit lay among the pots
Of my foul nature, and ne'er soiled her plumes.
I liked to feel him close: now in his stead
I'll plant Beelzebub. [To his Clerk.]
You, William, there,
Meet the Archbishop at the water's marge;
Search well his baggage: let the crowd look on;
Expose the treasons of the runaway.
[Aside.]
This empty chair ...

[Enter Anselm, followed by Eadmer.]
Anselm.
My liege, I'm starting; if with your good will
It had been better; even as it is,
I cannot part from love of your soul's health;
And now as ghostly father to his son,
As Anselm to the king, beseech you take
My blessing.

Rufus.
Father, I refuse it not.

[Anselm silently makes the sign of the cross over the King, and blesses him.
Anselm
[to Eadmer].
Come, Edmer, we are pilgrims, and my shell
Is my own yearning heart.

[Exit with Eadmer.
Rufus.
Now he is gone. ...
What! my eyes wet? I warrant he shall weep
He ever left me. [To Clerk.]
William, you are slack;
Turn o'er his goods; and we will b—b—banish him.

[Exit Walter; the King buries his face in his hands.