CARLOMAN.
GENEVIVA.
A harlot ... in my palace—Do not wince!
And fled: I laugh now to remember it.
I loved once; he I loved became a monk,
And therefore I make sport of holy men.
I would not scoff at you, not tempt you even.
You have deep, burning eyes.
CARLOMAN.
His name, who fled you? Would you have your pleasure
With me, his name!
GENEVIVA.
He had oblivious eyes!
[vindictively]
My lover’s name was Marcomir.
CARLOMAN.
Who journeys with me on this embassy
Is Marcomir. If you are amorous still
Of him ...
GENEVIVA.
Who are you? You are surely of my race,
Have known me in my youth. A flushing shame
Breaks on me—
CARLOMAN.
Moves you?
GENEVIVA.
It is too stale a story. Could I love——
CARLOMAN.
[Observing Marcomir passing and re-passing the windows]
GENEVIVA.
Then ... yes, I will have speech with him.
CARLOMAN.
The convent’s gossip. I can furnish that.
If you desire him carnally, I yield;
But if ...
GENEVIVA.
CARLOMAN.
Then he shall speak.
GENEVIVA.
Not now; for he remembers—
CARLOMAN.
Was once a girl, the monk was once a man.
If you would speak of life
Before it was apprenticed to these trades—
Of life and youth, virginity and love,
My ear will be as ripe for your confession
As his. We all remember; but our wisdom
Is to forget: our powers of penitence
Must be enfranchised, sin itself set free,
No clog or fetter on us!
GENEVIVA.
My husband!
CARLOMAN.
GENEVIVA.
So sweet to you—these lips so many men
Have kissed, this body.... But you bid me speak
Of life and youth, virginity and love,
And by a miracle I can. We two
Can argue of such matters.
[She restrains Carloman and goes to the door.]
[Marcomir enters.]
Those days we sat together quite alone
Praising and talking of him? We adored,
We each adored him, but we had no part
In that lone heart of his. Now all is changed
He loves me—
MARCOMIR.
GENEVIVA.
The harlot, loves the harlot. You can tell me
So much of him. What, with him every day!—
All through the golden summer and no rain,
All through the autumn and its violence!
Did he fall sick of fever?
MARCOMIR.
So little of the seasons. Day and night
I prayed that God would keep you chaste. No prayer
Of mine was ever answered.
CARLOMAN.
GENEVIVA.
And then to rise up clean.
[to Marcomir] The very moment
He spoke of youth, virginity and love
I prayed: I am alive. O Marcomir,
And there are other words of fellowship,
Of joy and youth-time. Let us hold him dear
Because he has delivered us; together
Let us give thanks, give courage each to each
Unenvious; let us talk of him once more,
Though with a difference—I will not use
Your comradeship profanely as I did,
To set you up against him in caprice,
Then leave you wild and empty. He has much
To pardon; you have more.
MARCOMIR.
CARLOMAN.
Not pardon. Where’s the need? We mortal men
Are brought to riot, brought to abstinence
That we may grow on either ready soil
The mustard-seed of pleasure, that is filled
With wings and sunny leaves. As time goes by
We shall have true relations each with each,
And with clean hearts receive the usufruct
Of what is best, and growing better still
In every soul among us.
[leading her up to Marcomir]
Geneviva,
His kiss will free your penitence, and teach you
He never could regret the past, because
It made to-day.
MARCOMIR.
Your friend—and lover.
I have prayed, like you,
The difficult is possible as once.
O life, O Geneviva, I were doomed
Indeed, if I should dare to rob myself
Of all the joy it is to be with you;
That were to die forever. What, reject
The gift you have for me, because for him
You have a different gift! But take my passion,
As I shall learn to take your friendship—each
Accepting what the other has to give,
All will be well between us.
[Enter Pepin.]
PEPIN.
At last I join you. Come, this is unseemly ...
A pleasant dame—but not within my palace
Shall you be tempted to forsake your vows.
[to Geneviva.]
Go, get your lovers on the highway; here
You bring disgrace.
(to Carloman in a low voice) A courtesan.
CARLOMAN.
PEPIN.
CARLOMAN.
I left her in your charge. Where is my child?
PEPIN.
That was no fault of mine. As for your wife—
CARLOMAN.
[He shudders and bows his head. Exeunt Marcomir and Geneviva.]
PEPIN.
I could not be her keeper, Carloman.
CARLOMAN.
She was what she has been, and each of us
Should say no word against her to our shame,
Nor any word to one another more
Than what we just have said. These fearful things
Should be within a fosse below all speech;
While we live sound above them and forget.
I come to you....
PEPIN.
My brother, as of old.
[laying his hand on Carloman’s shoulder]
What bones!
CARLOMAN.
I have not flesh as full of life as yours;
Why, your mere touch can warm one like the sun.
PEPIN.
Could rise and make a visit.
CARLOMAN.
PEPIN.
Unnecessary pain. I give you welcome
With all my heart; yet you yourself must know
Your presence in the place where once you ruled
Is—well, unlooked for.
CARLOMAN.
I am no spectre, outcast from the fortunes
Of breathing men,—that I too have a part
Once more in worldly business. I am come....
PEPIN.
What are you come for?
CARLOMAN.
To share again your counsels.
PEPIN.
For what?
CARLOMAN.
As you and I determine.
PEPIN.
CARLOMAN.
Much talk on vaults, we men who are alive?
PEPIN.
CARLOMAN.
PEPIN.
CARLOMAN.
PEPIN.
Authority to him? He could not use
Your services by force.
CARLOMAN.
At his request alone, in opposition
To bishop Damiani. I am free!
I proved it, acting freely.
PEPIN.
CARLOMAN.
Alliance with a foreign tyranny,
Opposed to human life and thwarting it.
Astolph is on your borders, and a King
Is more your natural fellow than this Pope,
Who seizes on the natural power of Kings,
Confusing his tiara with their crowns.
I speak the truth, for Zacharias travels
In haste to put his yoke on France and you.
Before he can arrive ...
PEPIN.
CARLOMAN.
PEPIN.
CARLOMAN.
PEPIN.
CARLOMAN.
It injures France, the freedom-loving plains
The aweless stock we come of. Will you give
The future of your people to a priest,
You who profess the tonsure round my head
Disables for a crown?
PEPIN.
And ruin my whole scheme!
CARLOMAN.
And Astolph young and sound in force as you.
Which is the deadlier foe?
PEPIN.
Are age and youth together. Carloman,
I love you still; you take me at the heart
Now that your face is glowing: I must speak,
For either you are mad, or have forgotten
How deeds are judged here in the actual world.
You are a monk, a runaway, and worse—
A heretic blasphemer, one who tempts
Both to rebellion and to perjury,
Yourself as disobedient as forsworn.
You must go back and bear your punishment
Without the least delay; for you are lost
If Zacharias find you here.
CARLOMAN.
Go back!
PEPIN.
Remaining, and a danger to my throne.
All I have said is true. Have you not broken
Your vow?
CARLOMAN.
PEPIN.
CARLOMAN.
And not a slave who sleeps through Time, unable
To share its agitation. What, go back!
You might as well dismiss me to the womb
From which I was delivered.
PEPIN.
You left the world.
CARLOMAN.
PEPIN.
A look so obstinate and hot?
By heaven, you are a fool. I cannot change
Myself, nor you, nor what has come to pass
I soon shall hate you, wish that you were dead.
CARLOMAN.
But I can live without my brother’s love,
For ties are not existence.
PEPIN.
Divisions in my kingdom?
CARLOMAN.
[Enter Pope Zacharias, Boniface and a number of Churchmen and nobles.]
PEPIN.
ZACHARIAS.
Has brought him to the palace?
PEPIN.
His convent, and is here to plead the cause
Of Astolph, the arch-heretic.
ZACHARIAS.
CARLOMAN.
What he could comprehend. How strange to feel
So slow, as if I walked without the light,
Deep in a valley.
[Boniface touches him] Ah!
BONIFACE.
Beloved, the Pope is speaking.
CARLOMAN.
What drove you forth to wander foreign lands,
With joy in every limb and faculty:
That drove me from the convent.
BONIFACE.
I left the English cloister, with a blessing
From him who ruled me. Is it as a monk,
Oh, is it—that we see you in our midst?
CARLOMAN.
[suddenly standing forth] Hear me! The I am
Has sent me to you and has given me power
To rend your idols, for you have not known
The God I worship. He is just to-day—
Not dreaming of the future,—in itself,
Breath after breath divine! Oh, He becomes!
He cannot be of yesterday, for youth
Could not then walk beside Him, and the young
Must walk with God: and He is most alive
Wherever life is of each living thing.
To-morrow and to-morrow—those to-days
Of unborn generations; the I am
To none of them a memory or a hope,
To each the thirst, the wine-cup and the wine,
The craving, the satiety—my God!
O Holy Father, you who sway the world
Through Him, must not deny Him.
ZACHARIAS.
God does not alter; you have changed to Him
Who is Eternal.
CARLOMAN.
As we are free who move within His life,
And shape ourselves by what is moulding Earth
And men and ages. In my cell I lost
The motion of His presence. I was dead.
ZACHARIAS.
To what the cloister holds, if any place
Can hold it, the immutability
Of God’s inherent nature, while without
His words are trying men by chance and change
And manifold desires. You left His works
Behind, you chose Himself: your oath was taken
To His deep heart; and now you would forswear
That oath, you cannot. No one who blasphemes
The light of God shall see the light of day:
For him the darkness and for him the grave.
I am no more your father, but your judge,
Who represents the God you have disowned,
Insulted and forgotten. He requites—
And you shall answer to the uttermost.
CARLOMAN.
ZACHARIAS.
CARLOMAN.
Of all—I live in Him.
ZACHARIAS.
Against command?
CARLOMAN.
ZACHARIAS.
CARLOMAN.
ZACHARIAS.
In vain, weep at your sentence.
PEPIN.
I pray you send him back, but spare his life—
Spare him, if I have power with you.
ZACHARIAS.
Is but his choice made permanent on earth.
[to Carloman] O fallen from blessedness of will, become
The friend of heretics, the false of word
To everlasting Truth, you are condemned
Life-long to be a prisoner in your cell,
Life-long to watch the scourge and crucifix.
You chose them, as the God whom you abjure
Chose them, forever; you have lapsed and they
Become tormentors, till they force contrition
At last and save you.
CARLOMAN.
ZACHARIAS.
There till you die the prison you have made
Of an eternal vow shall compass you.
CARLOMAN.
What you would do to me. The very dead
Rise ... Everything must have escape to live,
And I shall still be living.
[He throws both arms over his face, then suddenly removing them, makes a frenzied movement closer to the Pope.]
Here, now! It is most impious, horrible
To bury me, full to the lips with life.
Sharpness-of-death, give that, but not to feel
The prison walls close on an energy
Beating its claim to worlds.
ZACHARIAS.
Is and remains irrevocable.
BONIFACE.
Yield to a God Who compasses you round
With love so strong it binds you.
CARLOMAN.
But I reject such love.
O Pepin, listen!
I see so far! Your pact with Rome undoes
Long centuries, and yields your country up
To spiritless restriction, and a future
Entombed alive, as mine will be, in night.
Simply renounce your promise, bid your soldiers
Seize the old man who numbs us. You and I
Could set to music that would never end
The forces of our people.
PEPIN.
Or worse, and I disown you.
[to Zacharias] On his head
Let fall what curse you will.
ZACHARIAS.
The sacred pact between us re-confirmed.
[to Monks]
Fetch Chilperic! [Exeunt Monks.]
And meanwhile bring fetters in
To bind this renegade.
[moving up to the royal board that crosses the hall at the further end]
[Pepin and his nobles follow Zacharias: Attendants bring in fetters. Carloman submits mechanically to be bound, staring at Pepin, who affixes his signature to the treaty.]
[Boniface goes round to Carloman.]
BONIFACE.
And bear in patience.