Chapter VIII: Act III

SCENE I.--(_A deserted camp._) _Enter_ HENRY _alone_.

_Hen._ What is a king’s weak royalty to this Power
That lifts the crowns from kings and plucks them down
From earth-built majesties? I yesterday
Who wore a crown and called me Emperor
To these dominions, held a people’s fear,
To bind or loose betwixt my hollow hands,
Made and unmade, held life and death in fee,
Made dukedoms tremble at my royal coming,
And at my beck squadroned the earth with armies,
Am at his word a lonely, outcast man,
A stranger to the lordships of command,
Holding less power than doth my meanest subject.
Then did all eyes but follow at my glance,
All hands lift to the twitching of my thumb.
Did I but hate, a thousand scabbards clanged
To do me vengeance. Had I a single longing,
A myriad hearts trembled to beat my bidding.
But now I am so mean earth’s very slaves
Might pass me by, nor think to do me reverence.
What is this one man’s Power, this mighty Will,
That lifts its hand, saith suddenly yea or nay,
And peoples forget their duty to their lords,
And nobles forfeit reverence for their kings
And all of royalty’s golden splendor is wrecked
And shattered like a rainbow in a storm!
O Gregory, O Gregory, thou awful man,
Didst thou but speak I might become a clod,
Or weed or senseless turf beneath thy feet.

_Enter the Bishop of Bamburg and a noble._

_Hen._ Come now and strip me, let my very life
But follow my royalty.

_Bam._ O, my poor Liege!

_Lord._ Yea, they have left him lone enough indeed.
Damn this Pope’s cursing.

_Hen._ Why call me Liege? The king hath gone, my Lord.
He went out yesterday when Gregory’s curse
Filled all this precinct. I am only Henry,
A leprous, palsied, outcast, damnéd man.
Where are my servants? Have they fled me too?

_Bam._ They have, my Liege!

_Hen._ Gregory thou mighty monster, what art thou?
Thou art not God, for God at least is kind.
Thou art not nature, its workings are too slow
For such a sudden miracle. Why dost thou not
Take even my sight and hearing? It ’mazes me
Those be not fled. Yea, even my Taste and Smell,
What blasphemous Ministers these that do my bidding
Against thy mighty word. Take all, take all,
And let me die.

_Bam._ Sire, lose not your courage. Even yet,
A few of us for love of Heaven and thee,
Defy this haughty prelate. Shake at Rome
Defiance of her curses. Though a million curs,
With tail twixt legs flee at a bit of writing,
Forget that they are men because one man,
Who thinks him God, would shake with his poor thunders
The cowards of Europe; know that there be yet
A few hearts left thee. Gregory takes thy crown,
He hath not got thy manhood, that obeys
The laws of thine own nature. Show this priest,
This blasphemous usurper of our humanities,
That he may strip the moss but leave the tree
Of all thy kingship standing.

_Lord._ Yea, my Liege, some swords be left thee yet.

_Hen._ And ye still own me? Fear ye not this curse,
That blacks the world, the very earth I stand on;
Unkings me all, annuls my fatherhood,
Blasts all mine organs, refts me from my kind.
The very heaven must shut from me its light,
The stars no more look kindly, Night no more
Give me her holy balm, sweet, blessed sleep.
No friend, nor child, nor wife, this drives me out
Beyond the human. Say ye even yet
That ye do own me? This doth much amaze me.

_Bam._ We love thee yet and own thy majesty,
And kneel to thy allegiance.

_Hen._ If this were real, Henry’s heart could weep
With human gladness, but ’tis merely fancy.
You’d shrivel up like podshells were you men.
The very ground I stand on is accursèd.
No more may flowers therefrom, but only thorns
And noisesome weeds proceed. Away! away!
Ere ye be cursèd.

_Bam._ He seemeth distracted.

_Lord._ This curse doth lie full heavy of a truth.
Damn that Pope, if I but get to Rome
There’ll be two Popes. I’ll slice him i’ the middle.
Yea, I’ll create a fleshy schism ’twill bother
These damned, lewd priests to reckon.

_Bam._ My Lord, great Henry, hearken to thy friend,
’Tis Bamburg, he who loved thee as a child.
Dost know me?

_Hen._ It seemeth I know thee Bamburg, or ought to know,
Did not this haze of Hell o’erweight me down.
I thought thee fled. Why dost thou stand with me?
Knowest thou not that I am one accursed?

_Bam._ Hath nature no pity?

_Hen._ Were it the Queen alone who fled I’d bear it.
I never treated her as she deserved.
She was too kind, I used her brutal, Bamburg,
I used her brutal, she who was so kind.
Her voice was soft, but this my heart forgot
In that forced marriage. Had she fled alone
I had not minded, but the ones I loved,
The men I made and builded, raised them up,
Who drank my cup, took honors from my hand,
And made the heavens ring with their acclaims
Were I victorious: that all these should melt
Like some magician’s smoke at Gregory’s word;
’Tis monstrous; yea, so monstrous, that meseems
The heavens be turned to iron and yon cold sun
Be but a tearless socket turned upon me;
And Pity and Mercy all those kindly ministers
Fled from the universe where Henry stands,
Yea, Bamburg, had the mighty Lord of all
Such power of unrelenting as this Gregory,
The very fountains of nature would dry up,
The kindly elements refuse their office,
And morn and even, noon and cooling night
With blessed dews and sunlight, cease to be;
Till earth would stand one shrivelled chaos under
The pitiless heaven that looks on Henry now.

_Bam._ ’Tis the Queen that we be come about my Liege,
’Tis she hath sent us.

_Hen._ To mock my sorrow with false courtesies,
To note my shame and carry to her ears
My misery. O iron Ones, have ye
No mercy left?

_Bam._ Nay, nay, my Liege, curse not but hearken me,
The noble woman we call Germany’s Queen.
Sendeth unto Henry, greeting thus:
Though thou hast not an army thou hast love,
Though thou hast not a subject, yet a king
To her alone, her king of kingly men;
Though thou art cursed she still will keep to thee.

_Hen._ Oh Bamburg, this is worse than cursing, can kind Heaven
Hold such a blessing for a wretch like Henry?

_Bam._ It can and doth, Her Majesty waits without.

_Hen._ O, Bamburg I cannot see her, her true love,
Would so shame all my falseness all mine ill,
It seems her love would slay me. [_Enter_ MARGARET.

_Marg._ Henry!

_Hen._ My Queen! (_They embrace._)
Gregory, O Gregory, where is thy curse?

_Marg._ This is our child, look up, look up, my Liege,
Thy subjects may desert thee, Heaven doth not.

_Hen._ Gregory, O Gregory, where is thy curse?
It seemed so heavy an hour ago that earth
And very heaven were weighted with its murk,
Yet now it lightens. I am a man agen.

[_Curtain._

SCENE II.--(_Rise outer Curtain. A yard outside the castle at Canossa.
Enter two_ Monks _telling their beads_.)

_1st M._ By ’r Lady, t’was a rare sight, a rare sight, t’was
never known afore, nor ever be agen in Europe.

_2nd M._ He comes agen this morn, ’tis three days since
He’s stood i’ the courtyard suing Gregory’s favour.

_1st M._ The king of Europe! This be the Church’s hope,
May every season send us a Pope.
I must within ere Brother John doth make
A fast which little fits my hunger’s constant ache.

_2nd M._ T’wixt heady wine an’ table well provide’,
’Tis a faring world till coming Eastertide. [_Exit._

_Enter two_ Soldiers.

_1st S._ This Gregory hath given us such a sight
As makes all Germany ashamed for.
I’ll never more hold jealousy of kings.
Better to bed upon old soaken straw
An’ be a targe for pikepoles than be a king.

_2nd S._ He looked as though the whole world shot its darts
On his bare forehead.

_1st S._ Yea, an’ his poor Queen, didst see her sue
Upon her knees, to gain her lord’s admission.
May such a sight ne’er greet mine eyes agen.

_2nd S._ See, now they come. It shames my soldierhood
To see a king ensuffer such dishonour.
He is no Pope would hold so black a malice,
To pluck from hell. Let’s out. [_Exit both._

_Enter_ HENRY _attired in rude clothes, bareheaded and barefooted,
with a wisp of straw about his waist, and with him the_ QUEEN _in
black_.

_Queen._ This way my Lord, perchance his stony heart
So beat upon by storming of our tears,
May soften its adamant.

_Hen._ ’Tis for Germany and thee, I do this penance,
And for our sweet boy’s kingship, I, myself
Am all so calloused o’er by utter spite
Of too much curses showered by popes and fate,
It cares me little. Let the world go wrack,
The elements mingle in a loud confusion,
The maddened seas batten the ruined lands,
The forests shed their knotted limbs, the year
Be now all mad November. I am but
A wasted trunk whereon no brutish fate
Can wreck its malice. I am so annulled
Were all the devils of hell carnated popes,
Thundering anathemas on my stricken head,
T’would not appal me. I am come to this.

_Queen._ Thou wilt meet him fairly, thou wilt think
Not on thy woes, but on thy dear son’s hopes.

_Hen._ Fear not Margaret, meeting such a devil,
Who thinketh him a God, but I’ll dissemble.
I’m not the olden Henry that I was.
Mine inward pride will make mine outward meeker,
Subtility with subtility I’ll match
To wipe out this dishonour. [_Knocks at the gate._

_Enter_ Warder.

_Ward._ Who be ye?

_Hen._ Henry of Germany, whose November storms
Have stript his Summer’s royalty.

_Ward._ What would you within, Henry of Germany?

_Hen._ Knowest thou not, O Man, I am a King,
Though crownless, in these bleak, inclement times,
And this my sorrowful Queen. Wouldst thou not
Do her meet reverence?

_Ward._ We know no King but the Holy Pope of Rome.

_Hen._ I seek his presence. These three pitiless days,
All unavailing I have battered here
Humbling my royalty to his stern commands.
Were these gates less stony they would open.

_Queen._ O, Warder, mercy! Pray the mighty Pope,
A moment’s audience. I am a stricken woman,
And this my husband, who, once called a King
Now doffs his kingship, garbed in penitence.
Hath he no pity?

_Ward._ His Holiness hath harkened to thy suit,
And, be thou penitent, would pardon thee,
These be my orders, pass you now within. [_Opens gate._

_Queen._ Now, blessed be Heaven. Henry sink thy wrongs
In thy son’s future.

_Hen._ Sink my wrongs? They have sunk so low,
That lower I cannot. Heaven but grant me space
Till I avenge me. [_Exit both._

(_Rise inner curtain._) _A chapel in the castle. Enter_ HILDEBRAND
_attended by_ Cardinals. _Enter_ BEATRICE _and her train. Enter_ HENRY
_and the_ QUEEN _as before. The_ QUEEN _kneels_. HENRY _stands_.

_Queen_ (_to_ HEN.) Kneel! kneel! or all is lost.

_Hild._ Kneel; proud Man, to Heaven.

_Hen._ Yea, I will kneel to Heaven (_kneels_), (_aside_) but not
to thee.

_Hild._ Henry of Germany, Usurper, know that thus
Doth Heaven chasten holy Church’s foes,
Not in hate or malice, but in love,
That showing earth more perilous, Heaven be safe,
Because of thy disloyalty to the Church,
Usurping those her ancient, holy rights,
Not holding thy kingship as given from her hand,
Hath angry Heaven stripped thee of thy crown,
Thy people and thy sceptre, rendering thee
The scornéd of the meanest outcast wretch
That hugs his rags in human wretchedness,
Abhorr’d and despised of those who once
Courted thy favour. Take this cruel lesson
Home to the prideful chambers of thy heart,
And know kings henceforth but as mortal men,
Their power ephemera of a summer day,
Be they not fief to Heaven. Be thy penitence
Sincere in this dread, humble hour of thine
Thou wilt become the vassal of high Heaven,
Mending thy future from thy sinful past.

_Hen._ (_aside_) Great God! am I a King? What is a King?
Is he a dog to dare be spoken thus?

_Queen._ (_aside._) Henry, for the love of Germany,
Me, and thy child, keep but thy patience now.
(_To_ HILD.) O, Holy Father, curb thine awful anger,
Remove this curse that weighteth Henry down,
Makes him a fearful leper to his kind,
Restore his people’s favour, thou hast the power,
And thou wilt do it.

_Hild._ Madam, thou true daughter of the Church,
Hath this man used thee well that thou shouldst sue
For him our favour? Hath he not been false
To thee, to Germany and Holy Church?
Thou art a woman, use a woman’s art,
Break his presumption, soften his rude heart,
And we will soften ours. Meantime, to thee, [_To_ HENRY.
I would despatch my duty as high Pope
O’er my poor people, in this woeful world.
Know you, Henry of Germany, once a King,
But now a suppliant outcast at my feet,
Abandoned, abhorred of all true christian men,
The scorn alike of lowly and of high.
Know you I would be merciful a little.
For this cause I will now come down, come down,
As you through yours once blasphemously demanded,
From out my holy chair of sainted Peter,
And be like you, a single, naked man,
Leaving my cause with yours to mighty Heaven.

_Cards._ O, noble soul: O, noble princely heart.

_An Abbot._ Base Prince, base Prince, ’tis more than thou
deservest.

_Hild._ Know, therefore, now, in presence of these men,
Members immaculate, of Holy Church,
That thou, through thy base agents and by mouth,
Didst charge me, Gregory, Prince of God on earth,
And Vicar of the mighty risen Christ,
With crimes unworthy of my holy state,
Heinous and awful, so hideous in their sound,
That they were better nameless, the tongue would fail
To use its office, giving them to the air.
Know, furthermore, that I in my high office,
Have placed thee under ban of Holy Church,
Shut out, abhorred and excommunicate,
Because of sins committed at thy hand,
Abhorrent and accursed in their nature,
Of which, God knows, I have the truest witness.

(_Goes to an altar and taking a consecrated wafer, returns with it in
his hand._)

Now, Henry of Germany, men may lie,
And even Popes be sinful, flesh is frail;
But Heaven at last will judge betwixt us two. (_Raising the wafer.
The_ Cardinals _all draw back in fear_.)
If I be liar in the smallest part,
Deceitful or malicious in that judgment,
Wherewith I have judged thee, heaping crimes
Unspeakable and abhorrent on thy head,
May listening Heaven which is only just,
Strike me, impious, with its awful thunders
While I eat this. [_Breaks the wafer in two and eats half._
_A cry of wonder comes from the_ Cardinals. _There ensues a pause
of a few seconds, then he holds out the broken wafer to_ HENRY.
Henry of Germany, wilt thou do the same?

_Hen._ (_Starts back in confusion and horror._) Nay, nay,
’tis impious! ’tis impious!

_Cards._ Guilty, guilty!

_Hen._ (_Aside._) What influence be this I fight against?
This devil doth ever place me in the wrong.

_Hild._ Henry of Germany, wilt thou perform the same
And leave thine innocence to the power of Heaven?

_Hen._ (_Stands boldly up and confronts_ HILD.) Most mighty
Hildebrand, Prelate of Holy Rome,
Though to refuse thy gage be to acknowledge
His consciousness of human frailty,
Henry of Germany, whate’er his sins,
Hath too much sense of Heaven’s mighty justice
To desecrate the eternal bending Ear
By such blasphemings. I am no priest of God,
I am no Pope, august, infallible,
But only a weak and fallible sinning man,
As Heaven knoweth. But in this grave matter,
If thou be right and I be wholly wrong,
Heaven knoweth already without such dread presumption.
’Tis not for Church but men you judge this issue,
Hence, I demand a larger audience,
Tribunal more public than these witnesses,
Impartial, unprejudiced toward my wrongs,
So be I judged, it be not in a corner.
Meanwhile, if I have erred, in my new kingship
In word or deed against thy holy office
Here as a faithful son of holy Church
By that great love I bear for Germany,
By that dread duty I owe my wife and child,
I crave thy pardon and beseech thy blessing. [_Kneels._

_Hild._ Henry of Germany, thou standest now,
Rebuked of Heaven before the eyes of men.
As I had power to place thee under ban,
Alienate from holy Church and men,
So I withdraw that ban from off thee now.
Arise, my Son, in thy new penitence,
The Church commands thee, rise, and go in peace.

HENRY _stands. The_ Pope _and the_ Cardinals _pass out_.

_Hen._ ’Tis off! ’tis off, I am a man once more.
Out! out! let us without! I cannot breathe
In these damned walls!

[_Curtain._

SCENE III.--(_A poorly furnished room._ MARGARET _seated by a meagre
fire nursing her sick child_.)

_Marg._ O Gerbhert! Gerbhert! in what living stone
Are you entombed, dead to our sorrow now?
Ah, my poor Baby, fatherless, fatherless, now.
Dying! dying! Like a pallid candle,
I watch your little spark to less and less
Go slowly deathwards. Hark! I hear a step,
Hush your moans, my Babe. Was it your cry?
Or but the wind, the icy, winter wind,
The cruel midnight, eating with icy tooth
The hearts of mortals?

_Enter_ ARIALD.

_Ar._ Margaret, I have come!

_Marg._ Yea, so have Winter, Misery, Despair and Death,
Your kindlier brothers. Hunger may be gaunt,
But he is honest. Death be terrible,
But he hath mercy on the pinchéd cheek
And cruel, tortured heart; but who art thou?

_Ar._ Knowest me not, Margaret?

_Marg._ I know the Pope, who is a monster stone
That all the world like some poor maddened sea,
Might beat against and break and break in vain;
I know earth’s misery, its inhuman silence,
Where gaunt and shadowy eyes glare round and watch
The slow, brute process nearer, day by day
Of hunger gnawing at the walls of life;
But thee I know not, thou art far too dread
For my poor knowledge. When I see thy face
This earth doth seem a hell and God a devil.

_Ar._ Margaret, forswear this maddened mood.
Catherine, your mother killed herself,
By her own folly, hoping against hope.
Bethink you of your child. You murder it
In killing my poor hopes. Give me thy love,
And life to thy sweet babe, be not so cruel,
You forced me to this, I would not have stirred
One finger to molest you or your child,
Had you not by your beauty raised in me
A longing for to own you, call you mine.
Gerbhert never loved as I have loved,
It eats me like a wasting all these years.
Had I been Gerbhert, master of your love,
And this my child, I would have fought the world,
Ere I’d have left you, dared both Hell and Heaven,
Rather than let one furrow groove your cheek,
One sorrow rack your soul. O Margaret, Margaret,
Say but the word, that I may save thy child,
Give me the right to fan that poor flame back,
And thine old beauty to its former glow.

_Marg._ Blackness! blackness! I grope! I grope! I grope!
Forgive me, Heaven, forgive me! There is no Heaven!
There is no God! The universe one cave,
Where I, a blinded bat do beat my wings
In wounded darkness. O my child, my child!
Some one must save thee!

_Ar._ I am the only answer to thy prayer,
If there’s a God, he speaks to thee through me,
Margaret, Margaret, thou wilt come with me.

_Marg._ What shall I do? Is there no other voice?

_Ar._ Yea, thou wilt come. Thou wilt forget all this,
In future happiness. Come, my Margaret!

(_Margaret rises to her feet as if to go with him, then stops._)

_Ar._ Nay, nay, I am thine answer, God saith yea, to this.

_Marg._ O God! O God! (_To_ ARIALD.) Thou hast thine answer now!

_Ar._ Margaret!

_Marg._ God sends thine answer now. My babe is dead!

(_Falls heavily to the ground._) (ARIALD _steals out_.)

_Ar._ Beaten, beaten, beaten at the last!
I almost believe me, even evil me,
There is a God!

[_Curtain._

SCENE IV.--_A battle-field. Enter troops marching. Fighting begins
in the distance. Enter two officers._

_1st O._ This is the final chance for Germany.
Be Henry now defeated on this field,
He loses empire, Rodulph holds the west.

_2nd O._ Woe with poor Germany, her lands lie waste,
Her cities either sacked or arméd forts,
Withstand the common foe; her King outcast,
Battles for his rule with his own vassals.

(_Enter_ HENRY _with a few knights_.)

_Hen._ This way, this way, the enemy press back,
One struggle now for Germany and my crown.

(_All pass out. Enter_ WOLF _of Hamburg, with the head
of_ RODULPH.)

_Wolf._ Ha, ha, thou thing that wert a pope’s retainer,
Roll there the nonce an’ mix thee with the dust,
Thou that dared a king’s prerogatives.

(_Re-enter_ HENRY.)

_Wolf._ Victory! Sire; victory!

_Hen._ How now?

_Wolf._ I bring thee not thy crown, but rather the head
That would have worn it. Knowest the face?

_Hen._ Rodulph!

_Wolf._ Even so, his army be repulsed,
And Germany is thine to rule once more.

(_Enter_ Soldiers.)

_Hen._ Good Lords and Generals, Fellow-countrymen,
The enemy to all our peace is dead,
His army routed and the battle ours,
The God of battles now hath smiled our way,
We will henceforth resume our royal sway.
See that our pardon be proclaiméd wide
To all who lay down arms or join our ranks.
Meantime we bury this defeated rebel
And with him memory of this evil time,
Then hence to Rome to make our empery strong.
Know henceforth Lords and Generals, Henry stands
The champion of Europe’s civil rights,
The friend of liberty and trampled man.
Nor shall this sword be sheathed till Germany
And Italy, yea, all of Europe’s soil
Be freed from sway of proud, pretentious priests,
And peace, humanity and freedom reign.

[_Curtain._