Chapter VI: Act I

SCENE I.--(_Rise outer Curtain._) _An Inn-yard in Milan. Two_ Burghers _discovered seated at a table, drinking_.

_1st B._ Well, well, these be the strange days indeed, indeed!

_2nd B._ (_Rather drunk._) How now, neighbor Burnard, how now?

_1st B._ Heardst thou not the news, good Neighbor? But with thy
nose always i’ the wine-pot, thou canst not know anything
aside its rim.

_2nd B._ Wine-pot, wine-pot, thou sayst ha! ha! nose i’ the
wine-pot thou sayest, ’tis better than sticking it into every
business save thine own, hey! neighbor Burnard! But what be
this news that would keep the nose out o’ the wine-pot?

_1st B._ There be a new Pope at Rome, the Monk, Hildebrand. How
like you that?

_2nd B._ God, keep us all! Now thou dost say it! It seemeth
they be making new Popes every Michaelmas. This were no
reason for to keep the nose outside the wine-pot. Here’s to
his health, God save him!

’Twere a merry grape was squeezed for this, good Neighbor.
Here’s long life to thee an’ the Holy Pope, and especially to
the royal Henry. Soon may he come to Italy.

_1st B._ It be said, Henry cannot sleep o’ nights i’ his bed,
for the making of this same Pope, Hildebrand, or Hellbrand,
as some folks call him. But hast thou heard the greater news?

_2nd B._ Nay, what now? Nothing be new now. Nothing be new,
along o’ fighting and preaching and lechering and damning in
the Church and State. Nothing be new save drinking, and that
be ever new. Ha! ha! What else be new?

_1st B._ ’Tis concerning this same scarce-baked Pope, this
Hellbrand. ’Tis said he hath sworn by the mass and all the
saints never to rest until he hath unwived all the priests i’
Europe. How like you that, good neighbor Burnard?

_2nd B._ Ho! ho! ’Tis a good joke. Unwive the priests! ’Tis a
good joke. ’Twere well for me and thee did he swear a vow to
unwive all the burghers i’ Milan. ’Twould gie one I know more
peace i’ his bed o’ nights. ’Tis the priests ever have all
the good fortune i’ Europe. Ah me, ah me! ’Tis ever so.

_1st B._ Yea, but there’s more news yet, good Neighbor, this
same Hellbrand, which be a good name for him if he be Pope,
hath sent out two wondrous preachers, endowed with uncommon
powers of tongue and orders, to spread this same doctrine in
all Italy and throughout Europe; an’ it be said they took
fearsome oaths, on pain of eternal damnation, not to rest
till they had done so; an’ further, ’tis said, they be here
to-night to preach i’ the market.

_2nd B._ I’ Milan?

_1st B._ (_Rising._) Yea i’ Milan, here, i’ the square.

_2nd B._ Well now! It do be passing strange, well now! It be
a damn law, and he be a damn liar, who saith not. A most
unnatural law, for our good pastor. Were it my case now,
it were fitting, (_1st goes out_) who taketh a lecture
every midnight near upon cock-crow, such as no Pope’s Bull
could outwit in language an’ rhetoric. Say good Neighbor,
what thinkest thou? Might I not be made a priest? What be
qualifications? (Ha! he hath gone!) I could drink with an
abbot, yea, an archbishop, yea, I’ll see this same Hellbrand
about the matter: it shall be done, be done, ha! ha! it shall
be done. (_Reels out._)

(_Rise inner Curtain, the market place._) _Enter several jolly_ Monks.

_1st._ (_Sings_) Ours be a jolly life,
No care nor ill have we,
We neither toil nor starve nor beg,
But live right merrily.

_All._ No wife to scold, no child to squall,
An’ put us on the rack;
We drink good wine, we kiss the maids,
An’ the Pope is at our back.

_2nd._ So here’s unto the jolly monk, (_all grasp hands_),
And here’s to him, alack, (_all clench fists_)
Who’d turn him from his board and bunk,
For the Pope is at his back.

_All._ The Pope is at our back, good Freres,
The Pope is at our back;
We fleece the churls, we scorn the King,
For the Pope is at our back. (_All pass on._)

_Enter a great crowd of_ Burghers, men _and_ women, _who fill the
market. Enter_ ARNULPH _and_ ARIALD, _the decretal preachers_. ARNULPH
_ascends a pulpit to harangue the crowd_.

_Arnulph._ Know ye Citizens and Burghers of Milan, that whereas
in the past, by reason of evils and curses, through the power
of the Devil, Holy Church hath fallen into abomination, to
the shame of men and sorrow of Heaven, it hath here now and
at this time, behooved her to cast off certain of those
abominations, to wit, especially that most heinous sin,
whereby the priests of the altar, do, without grace and
carnally given, co-habit in concubinage with those weaker
vessels, even as do the common and unsanctified of humanity;
wherefore know ye Citizens and Burghers of this city of
Milan, that the Holy Father doth now and at this time, by
me and through me, instruct you each and collectively, of
the dreadful enormity of this most damnable sin, whereby the
holy priesthood is made of none effect, and Holy Church doth
languish in weakness and vassalage to the princes and lords
of this carnal world,--know ye,--

_A Burgher._ Most reverend Doctor, cut ye short the “know
ye’s” an’ the “wherefores” and th’ “verbiations” an’ the
“latinities” an’ come down from your high flown rostrum an’
tell us the church’s will. We be plain men.

_Other Burghers._ Well done, Big Gellert. Thou art in the right
of it. Bravo! Gellert.

_Ariald._ Insolent Lump! would’st thou interrupt a doctor of
Holy Church?

_Gellert._ Holy Church confound him and thee, too, thou
sour-faced varlet! Who’s a talking of Holy Church? He is but
a stray rooster from some mad convent, an’ thou his mate
ranting on a mad doctrine. Holy Church teacheth no such
damned doctrine. Be we fools?

_Burghers._ Well hit, Big Gellert, thou canst give him the
latinities of it. Hit him back, old Pigeon!

_Arnulph._ Beware, thou impious Mountain of mortality, an’ ye
foolish burghers lest ye insult in me a power that is behind
me.

_A Clerk._ Come, come, get thee down, we want no such strange
doctrines. We have had clergy, good men with wives and chicks
i’ Milan, these centuries back, an’ we be no Sodom.

_Arnulph._ I know not your customs, but in the name of Holy
Church, I Arnulph, hereby command ye on pain of deepest Hell
hereafter, that ye abstain from all masses made or performed
by any priest who continues in this unholy state, for I tell
you be he priest, archdeacon, bishop or archbishop, he is
accursed, and doubly accursed.

_Gellert._ Thine be a big curse indeed, an’ by ’r Lady, thou
mouthest it well.

_Clerk._ Dost thou tell us our good pastor be in mortal sin
because he liveth with a good wife as do other men?

_Arnulph._ Have I not said it?

_Gellert._ Then art thou a brazen liar, an’ comest thou
down, I will give the non of it on thy brazen chops, thou
leathern-lunged Varlet of Satan.

_Arnulph._ Dog of Hell, the arm that toucheth me Heaven will
wither!

(_A great clamor arises._) _Enter_ GERBHERT, _the Parish Priest_.

_Gerbhert._ What meaneth this disturbance i’ my parish? I
thought I ruled a peaceful, God-fearing people, an’ not a
brawling rabble.

_Gellert._ Pray, good Father, ’tis yon loud-mouthed Dog of
Satan, hath insulted you an’ all Milan by his mad heresy.

_Gerbhert._ Insulteth me, good Gellert? (_To Arnulph._) Who
are you who without my license come disturbing my flock with
thine unseemly harangues? Come down from yon pulpit! (_To the
crowd._) Good People, in God’s name, go home.

_Arnulph._ Nay, I will not come down till I have delivered
this my message to this foolish mob, an’ to thee, thou
carnal-minded Priest. In the name of the Holy Church I exhort
ye,--

_Gel._ He saith, Pastor Gerbhert, that thou canst no more make
masses, being a wedded man.

_Gerb._ (_To_ ARNULPH.) Be this true?

_Arn._ It is true, by the Mother of God. An’ thou wilt feel it
too ere thou art an hour older.

_Gerb._ Nay, Man, thou art mad, this cannot be!

_Ar._ ’Tis even so as we be Holy Church’s men.

_Gerb._ Ha! art thou not Ariald, once of Rome?

_Ar._ Yea, I am that same Ariald.

_Gerb._ Then tell me Ariald, by our one-time friendship, that
this man be mad, an’ his message but a foolish doctrine.

_Ar._ Nay, Gerbhert, but ’tis thou art foolish, an’ this law
but too true, thou must obey.

_Gerb._ Then will I fight this mad heresy, this inhuman code.
That we must give up our wives an’ babes, our pure homes,
an’ all that is holiest on earth! Nay, it cannot be! ’Tis
devilish!

_Ar._ But thou must obey or be driven out.

_Gerb._ Ariald, thou knowest my Margaret, thou knowest her
sweet nature, her holy conversation. She hath no devil, that
her loving should make me unworthy.

_Gel._ ’Tis damnable, good Father. But give me the word an’ we
will trounce them out o’ the market.

_Enter_ MARGARET, _the_ Priest’s Wife.

_Marg._ Gerbhert! Gerbhert! Good citizens have you seen the
pastor? Mother Bernard, poor soul, needeth the last rites,
she be dying.

_Gel._ Aye, thou wert ever an angel of mercy from heaven to the
sick an’ poor.

_Marg._ What aileth thee, Gerbhert? What may be the matter?

_Gerb._ Come hither Margaret, this man telleth me
So strange a thing, I know not if he be mad
Who sayeth it, or I who hear his words.
He sayeth I am no more a priest of God
While I’m thy husband.

_Marg._ Not priest of God while thou art husband? Nay!
But he is mad indeed, for thou art both,
A good kind pastor, as these people know,
And as I know, a good and loving husband.

_Gerb._ He saith ’tis some new law within the church.
He saith in sooth, sweet Margaret, I must either
Put thee away or leave the priesthood.

_Marg._ An’ what say you, my Gerbhert?

_Gerb._ That I will fight it to the bitter end,
I will be both or there’s no God in Heaven.
Ariald, thou knowest my good Margaret,
The woman of my choice, my youth’s one love,
I will not give her up. The Holy Father
Shall know of this strange doctrine. He shall judge
’Twixt thee and me.

_Arn._ Know then thou carnal Priest that even now
He hath decided; ’tis by his own will
That we be here, here is his written word.

(_Holds up the_ POPE’S _Bull_.)

Yea, further, you shall choose you even now.
Thou shalt not shrive yon dying woman, till
Thou hast renounced this woman.

_Gerb._ My sweet Margaret, put your trust in me.
(_To_ ARNULPH.) Thou cruel preacher, show me yon dread bull,
Whose horns do even now rend me. Tell me now
’Tis but a lie and not great Hildebrand’s.
I knew him once, he seemed a kindly man,
And never one to part a wife and husband.

_Gel._ Let me see yon paper, let me see thou liest.
Nay, ’tis the Pope’s name. This be a damned world!
Good Father Gerbhert, tell us if this paper
Be what he saith? (_Hands paper to_ GERBHERT, _who reads_.)

(MARGARET _goes near_ GERBHERT.)

_Gerb._ Margaret, come not so near, O Margaret come not so
near,--I love thee Margaret--but--O my God!

_Marg._ Gerbhert, Gerbhert, thou wilt not desert me,
Remember our sweet babe.

_Ar._ Margaret, touch not that man, he is God’s own. Leave him.

_Arn._ Even so. Wouldst thou curse him with thy touch?

_Marg._ Evil Man, good Friends, forgive my misery.
But even now, as I did pass our home,
I left his little one, and mine, asleep,
His sweet face pillowed on his rosy arm,
I bent and kissed him, he did look so like
His father, and now good friends forgive me, it is but
A passing madness, but it seemed these men
Had built a wall of hideous black between
Me and my husband.

_Gerb._ Margaret, back! as thou lovest me!
Nay, touch me not, I am a banished man,
Good Friends, brave Gellert, pardon my poor feelings.
For I am now afflicted by dread heaven
For some gone, unknown sin of my past youth.
Perchance I murdered one in hideous sleep,
Strangled some infant on its mother’s breast,
Violated some pure sanctuary;
That this dread blackness lieth on me now.
O Margaret, thou art springtime vanished past,
And this be autumn all dead leaves and rain,
With all of mem’ry’s summer ’twixt us twain,
To think and dream forever. Forgive, my friends,
This weak unseemliness in me your pastor.
I ever did love mercy, dealt but tardily
With those who seemed to suffer more than sin,
Looked up to heaven and led my people, trusting;
And now I am brought beneath the cruelest hand
That ever pointed two roads to a man.
Arnulph, Ariald, forgive my former heat,
You do but your bare duty. Friends they’re right,
And I your whilom pastor in the wrong.
For I mistook the face of earth’s poor love
And dreamed a stair of human happiness
Did lead to Heaven. See me now rebuked.
’Tis the Pope’s will. Arnulph, read thou this.
I charge thee, as the pastor of this parish,
That you leave out no word however hard,
Nor soften down one sentence of this curse,
Or its conditions.

_Arn._ Of a surety I’ll not.

_Ar._ He shall not! And harken, you, good people, do you listen!

_Marg._ Gerbhert, come home, I will not hear that curse
That parts us twain. My breaking heart it seems
Doth hear our baby cry.

_Arn._ Silence Woman!

_Marg._ You would silence the angels. Work you this deed,
I tell you Man, you shut all Heaven out
And let in Hell, you desolate God’s glad homes
By your brute ministry that knows not love.

_Arn._ The love of heaven knoweth not carnal love.

_Marg._ Forgive me Sir! Stern Sir! would woman’s tears
But move you, would woman’s pleaded prayers
But change you to the softest kindly thought,
I would beg of you, read not that curse.

_Arn._ Silence, Woman!

_Gerb._ Margaret, by your love for me, be silent.

_Arn._ (_Reads._) In the name of God, amen: Gregory the Seventh
by the will of Heaven, Pope, Vicar of Christ, successor
of Holy Peter, sendeth greeting to all Christian peoples,
and commandeth, that any priest living with a woman in the
so-called marriage state, shall be accursed:--that any person
who receiveth at his hands any or more offices of Holy Church
shall also be accursed.--That furthermore, all offices so
exercised by him shall not only be rendered null and void of
all good effect, but shall rather be regarded by Holy Church
as acts accursed. That this same law be proclaiméd in all
parishes throughout Christendom. Know ye that this be my will.
Signed,
GREGORY.

_Marg._ Gerbhert, O God, Gerbhert, where art thou?

_Gerb._ Margaret, touch me not, we must obey
When Heaven speaks.

_Marg._ Not when it utters thunders such as this.

_Arn._ Choose, Gerbhert, twixt this woman and thine office.
Take her with thee to Hell, or both win Heaven.

_Gerb._ I have chosen, let me go and die.

_Marg._ O Gerbhert, come and kiss our little babe,
Say one good-bye, to home, before you go,
I’ll not detain you, I say it on my knees,
I’ll not detain you.

_Gerb._ Margaret, would you curse us with your love?
I can hear the Holy Father’s voice
Though he’s in Rome, saying, nay, nay, to thee.
Farewell, Margaret, we will meet in heaven.

(_Goes out with_ ARNULPH _and_ ARIALD.)

_Marg._ Nay, I am mad, ’twas this o’er nursing did it.
Gerbhert, tell me, tell me, I am mad.
Good friends, O pardon your poor Margaret.
O who will lead me home!

[_Curtain._

SCENE II.--_Place, Home of Pastor Gerbhert. Enter_ CATHERINE, Mother
_to_ MARGARET.

_Cath._ What can keep her, what can keep her? Oh, here she
comes. (_Enter_ MARGARET, _weeping_.)

_Marg._ Mother, Mother, take me, take me home.
Home? Where be home? Are not these walls familiar?
Did they not mean the place where we had dwelt,
And hoped and loved? And what are they made now,
But empty phantasies of a broken past?
O Mother, Mother, bring me to my child,
The world is dead, the world is aged and dead.

_Cath._ My God, my God, Margaret, are you mad?

_Marg._ My husband! Oh, my husband!

_Cath._ Gerbhert! What of Gerbhert? Is he dead?

_Marg._ Aye, dead to me.

_Cath._ You speak in riddles, daughter.

_Marg._ Life is a hideous riddle unto some,
That it were better they had never solved.

_Cath._ Margaret, I am your mother. Tell me quick, Gerbhert,
where is Gerbhert? Will he come?

_Marg._ He will never come. O Mother! O Mother!

_Cath._ What are your words? Where hath he gone, my
Child?

_Marg._ How can I tell you? ’Tis the church’s will
That he must leave me, I must be no wife,
Or he no husband. The Pope hath sworn it.

_Cath._ The Pope! The Pope, you say?

_Marg._ Aye, the Pope.

_Cath._ Nay, not the Pope. You are dreaming, dreaming, Child,
This working with the sick, hath turned your brain.

_Marg._ Nay mother, ’twere a blessing, were I mad.
’Tis only but too true, I heard it now
Out in the market. Gerbhert heard it too,
And he hath gone. O God! yes he hath gone,
And on his face the doom of Death was writ.

_Cath._ Mother of heaven! and it hath come to this.
Is there no God, that men in heaven’s name
Break up earth’s homes, and make a waste like this?
Daughter, Margaret, where hath Gerbhert gone?

_Marg._ Let me die. But let me die in peace.

_Cath._ Nay, nay, this shall not be, this hideous law
Must drift aside. Daughter, harken me.

_Marg._ There is no hope. The Pope hath willed it so.

_Cath._ Nay, he will hear me, I will make him hear.
I have a secret you have never known,
Nor any in Italy.

_Marg._ The Cardinals at Rome will never hear thee.
Gregory will never, never hear thee.
’Tis vain.

_Cath._ Fear not for me, I will at once to Rome
And crush this evil matter, get his will
To bring back Gerbhert, if he will not harken,--

_Marg._ We can but die!

_Cath._ I will go and make all matters ready,
So early dawn surprise me on my journey.

_Marg._ Nay, mother, leave me not. I feel as if
All life were desolated. Leave me not.

(_Her child cries within._)

Yea, my sweet fatherless babe, I’ll come to thee,
Not all Rome’s Popes can say nay, nay, to that. (_Goes within._)

_Cath._ (_Going out._)
O, thou that cursed me in mine early days,
And cast this shadow all across my life;
Wilt thou now add this sorrow to mine age?
And darken my last years? Is there no God?
O, Night, who art the same, whose stars look down
On peace and madness, human joy and pain,
If there be help within thy mighty depths
For earth’s poor creatures, help me, help me, now. (_Goes out._)

_Enter_ ARIALD.

_Ar._ She is alone. My power, this is thine hour.
Margaret! Margaret!

_Enter_ MARGARET _eagerly_.

_Marg._ O, Gerbhert! Have you come?

_Ar._ Margaret!

_Marg._ Sir!--O cruel disappointment! I had thought
It were my husband.

_Ar._ ’Tis but a friend.

_Marg._ Then Friend, bring back my husband, bring him back
On my knees I beg it.

_Ar._ I may not, Margaret, Heaven only hath power
To stay your parting, think no more on Gerbhert.

_Marg._ Then wherefore here?

_Ar._ In pity for your sorrow I have come.
A wedded woman, yet no longer wed,
So young and fair, so helpless to protect
Yourself and child against this wicked world:
Yea, I would help you.

_Marg._ My heart, had it but room for else than sorrow
Would thank your kindness. You can help me best
By bringing back the father of my child,
The friend who onetime loved you.

_Ar._ It cannot be, in all things else than that
My power can help you. You sin grievous sin
When you still mourn him.

_Marg._ Nay, nay, if sin, then life is all one sin,
One hideous hell, and God but a great devil.

_Ar._ Woman, you blaspheme.

_Marg._ Nay, rather thou blasphemest, teaching me
That human love, be contraband to heaven.
Not all your Popes and Cardinals standing by,
Can make me, looking on my baby’s face,
Forget his father.

_Ar._ Margaret, by this love you bear your child,
Forget this Gerbhert. He was never yours.
By right divine, he ever was Holy Church’s.
You only damn his soul, do you succeed.

_Marg._ Never! never! This be hideous, hideous!
My womanhood calls out against this lie.

_Ar._ If you are wise you will forget this man.
I tell you he is dead to you and earth.
A few short years for prayer and cloister tears,
Are all that’s left him. Margaret you are fair,
And young and budding for the joys of earth.
Forget this Gerbhert. There are other men
Would seek thy love.

_Marg._ What mean these words? Insult not this my sorrow.

_Ar._ Margaret, if thou wouldst only but trust me,
My love is thine.

_Marg._ Thou devil!

_Ar._ Margaret, know my power. Thou art alone,
With me to make thy life a hell or heaven.

_Marg._ Nay, I have God. O heaven, show thy face
Through this dread blackness!

_Ar._ Not God nor any can give thee succor now.
Thy husband dead to thee forever more,
Choose! Black Starvation knocketh at thy door!
Pity thy child if thou wilt not thyself.
I have long loved thee, Margaret, trust to me,
Bethink thee of thy child.

_Marg._ Out! out! Blasphemer! If the Church be vile,
If justice be swept from earth and pity dead,
Though devils walk this world, though God be gone,
Know, there be left one righteous woman’s scorn
For such as thee.

_Ar._ When thou dost see bleak desolation come,
Gaunt, burning hunger fill thy baby’s eyes,
Thou’lt come to me.

_Marg._ If thou be Satan, thou black Prince of Fiends,
Thou wearest this man’s form, thou firest his heart.
(_To_ ARIALD.) Go! Devil! ere I forget my womanhood. Go!

_Ar._ (_Going out._) Remember!

_Marg._ If there be nothing in this world for me,
I have a friend no priest nor Pope can take,
Whose name be Death.

[_Curtain._