Mordred and Hildebrand: A Book of Tragedies

SCENE II.—(A chapel close near the castle. The grave of Margaret and her child marked by a cross.) Enter Hildebrand leaning on the arm of Peter.

Hild. Little did I dream that it was I

Would be the first to go. O, Peter, Peter,

This world—ambition hath eaten up my heart,

And my life with it. Better to be there

Where she doth lie than to be God’s Vicar.

Pet. Gregory if you would only compromise,

And meet the wishes of the Cardinals,

And temper Henry, you might die in Rome.

Hild. Never, never, better end me here,

Than give my life the lie. Do they their worst,

What I have lived for, I will die for too.

Better the Church go crumble all to ruins

And Europe be a field of ravening wolves,

Than compromise be purchased at such price,

And sell the Church’s right to impious hounds,

And make the temple of God a den of thieves.

Go, Peter, go, your heart is like the rest.

Go, leave me, I am but a poor old man,

Weak, palsied, leaning slowly to my tomb,

I need no friend, God will be merciful,

Though cold and rude earth’s loves, I can but die.

Pet. Thou knowest, Gregory, I will never leave thee.

Hild. ’Twill not be long, and then they’ll have their will,

O, Europe! Europe! Peter, wilt thou see

That this place is kept sacred. Yon rose tree

Kept watered, and yon twin-mound holy,

Till thou dost die?

Pet. I will.

Hild. She was my daughter, Peter, and like her mother,

And the poor babe it looked so sweet in death,

Mine age went to it. O, Damiani,

These women and children twine about our hearts.

Pet. Wilt you go within?

Hild. Methought I heard one hum an old-time tune.

Pet. Nay, Gregory, thou meanest a chant or hymn.

Hild. Nay, Peter, but a simple ballad tune,

That I loved long ago. Know thee, Peter,

All music is of God, and it be holy.

Pet. What be that noise? (Rising.) Who be those coming here?

Hild. Peter, thou wilt keep this place?

Pet. Hildebrand! Hildebrand! Gregory! dost thou hear?

Many cardinals and bishops come this way.

Enter Cardinals, Bishops and Lords.

Card. Brunelli. Your Holiness!

Hild. (Rising suddenly and waving his hand imperiously.)

Back! back! This ground be holy!

Brunelli. We be come, my Lord,—

Hild. Back! back! or fear my curse. Sully not

These silent, dreamless ears with impious words

Of earth’s ambitions, Church’s greed and curse.

Desecrate not this peace with life’s mad riot.

’Tis dedicate to memories alone

Of youth and innocence.

[They fall back, he goes forward.

Hild. What be your will?

Brunelli. May it please your Holiness, we come from Rome.

Hild. I am Rome! And when these old walls crumble,

Rome hath fallen, till another be built.

’Twill not be long.

Pet. Know lord Cardinals that the Holy Father

Is indisposed. Complete your business.

Hild. Nay, not ill, but rather worn of life

And its vexatious evils, foolish toils.

Aye, lord Cardinals, weigh you my curse so heavy?

That ye have came so far to crave my blessing?

Brunelli. We come, my Lord, to heal this cruel schism

That rendeth Holy Church and maketh mock

Of Peter’s chair, throughout all Christendom.

Henry of Germany—

Hild. Silence! or I’ll forget the Church’s good,

And curse her Cardinal. Name me not that monster,

Save in anathema. Look on me Brunelli,

And these poor hands wherein life’s blood runs cold,

So that they scarce can lift in Church’s blessing;

Look on my face and see Death written there,

In plainest charactry. Yet know proud Cardinals,

I still am Peter till my latest breath.

(He staggers. Peter catches him in his arms.)

Pet. Great God, he dies. Help! help! lord Cardinals, help!

The greatest soul in Europe passeth now.

Hild. (Staggers to his feet.) I am going Damiani, heard you sounds

Of rustling pinions? Did you know a presence

That darkened all the horizon with its wings?

Nay, I can stand alone. Unhand me, Peter!

Lord Cardinals and Prelates to your knees!

Take you my blessing, ’tis my latest hour!

[All kneel.