FATHER BENEDICT-- Saint.
ABBOT-- Ha! (_Searching the Priest's face._)
I do not understand you, Benedict.
FATHER BENEDICT--Then I will put it this way: See this garb?
You know I am a shepherd.
ABBOT-- Yes, I know.
FATHER BENEDICT--And tend a flock of sheep.
ABBOT-- I know you do.
FATHER BENEDICT--And sheep have wool?
ABBOT-- Yes.
FATHER BENEDICT-- Now we go afield.
Do briers grow in pastures? (_The Abbot nods._)
And have flukes?
ABBOT--I see. You mean to say that flukes tear wool.
FATHER BENEDICT--That's what I mean.
ABBOT-- That, therefore, from the shears
The fleece comes lighter to the shepherd's hands.
FATHER BENEDICT--And to the Master's.
ABBOT-- Ha! but in this case--
For your insinuation I perceive
Clearly, I think;--well, in this case, I say,
It does not follow that the Master gets
Less tribute from the flock; for, Benedict,
Remember this: When God's bright seraphim
Collect His revenues, it matters not
Whether it be your hand that pays, or mine.
FATHER BENEDICT--Provided your hand pays, it matters not.
ABBOT--Ah, now you leave your figure.
FATHER BENEDICT-- And take yours.
ABBOT--You climbed the mountain, then--?
FATHER BENEDICT-- To get my wool.
ABBOT--And chop the brier?
FATHER BENEDICT-- That belonged to God.
ABBOT--Then tell me this: If it belonged to God,
How then do you, His shepherd, claim the wool
That God's own flukes have pulled from his own sheep?
FATHER BENEDICT--You do not understand.
ABBOT-- I think I do.
FATHER BENEDICT--I did not mean the brier was God's, but this:
That it belonged to God to chop it down.
ABBOTABBOT--The brier, then, has fallen?
FATHER BENEDICT-- Praise the saints.
ABBOT--You came to tell me how the blow was struck?
FATHER BENEDICT--I stopped to tell you how I got my wool.
ABBOT--You need not.
FATHER BENEDICT--Why?
ABBOT-- I know.
FATHER BENEDICT-- You know?
ABBOT-- I do.
FATHER BENEDICT--I have not spoken since I left him.
ABBOT-- Well.
FATHER BENEDICT--How did you learn it, then?
ABBOT-- I had a seed.
Your coming was the sun, your words the shower;
It could not help but put forth leaves and bloom.
FATHER BENEDICT--Strange, very strange.
ABBOT-- To see a stalk with flukes
Put forth a bloom? 'Tis not unnatural.
FATHER BENEDICT--I do not understand.
ABBOT-- Nor I.
FATHER BENEDICT-- What?
ABBOT-- This:
How that a shepherd could believe a wolf
Had suckled a lost lamb.
FATHER BENEDICT-- What do you mean?
ABBOT--That it is strange that you, a priest of God,
Could see an angel's track upon a slope
And say: "Here went a devil up the rocks."
FATHER BENEDICT--It is too dark.
ABBOT-- 'Twill ever be too dark
To see aught but an angel in that gulch.
FATHER BENEDICT--'Tis midnight.
ABBOT-- No; for yonder peaks are flushed,
And there bright wings are wasting in the dawn.
FATHER BENEDICT--Father, what do you mean?
ABBOT--(_Closing his eyes._) Listen, Benedict.
In an old abbey down in Italy
There hangs an ancient chime of seven bells.
Oft when a child I heard them in the dawn
Singing like angels in the Apennines,
Their tones so blended, so harmoniously
Tuned to the planets that, when twilight fell,
They were the echoes of the Pleiades.
Those old, old bells! I hear them still sometimes.
We children called them by the golden names
Archangels wear. Well, in a storm one night
Raphael went down. Some say a huge black hand
Strangled him in his tower and hurled him down.
And others say--mark, Benedict--that God--
FATHER BENEDICT--Anathema!
ABBOT-- God's hand that shaped the spheres
And hung them in the belfry of the night
To ring through heaven an universal mass,
And set the holy bells of earth in tune,
And set our hearts in tune with holy bells.
That, in the blue cathedral of the air,
One chant might rise from hearts and bells and spheres,
Some say that His, God's hand, threw down that bell.
FATHER BENEDICT--I say, anathema!
ABBOT-- And so you think--?
FATHER BENEDICT--I think it was the foul hand of Hell.
ABBOT-- Ah?
Since withered faces skir along the sky,
Might it have been some--witch?
FATHER BENEDICT-- I said the hand
And that includes the fingers.
ABBOT-- So it does.
Well, Benedict, there you and I are one.
We hold that that which jangles God's great chime.
Whether it strike a sphere or a bell or a heart,
Springs from the pit and hath its root in Hell.
FATHER BENEDICT--Ay, we agree.
ABBOT-- Then follow the same path
And you shall see your seraph of the night
Bleed out his strength upon the spears of dawn.
'Twas thought that Raphael's tumbling down the rocks
Had wrecked his silver voice, and so he lay
Three years half-sunken in a slimy marsh,
His golden throat choked up with water-weeds
And fetid lilies breathing of the swamp.
'Twas said that oft when morning woke the bells
Upon the heights, a drowned voice was heard,
A strangled booming in the marsh-fogs. Well.
One Sabbath while the morning star still burned
A lone white taper, on a sudden from his couch
The ancient bellman started. The old chime
Was singing in its tower, and, like a thrush
That eyeless hath escaped a narrow cage,
The voice of Raphael on his bough again
Rang through the woods. The eagles on the crags
Shook out their wings and circled in the sky;
The mountain shepherds shouted from the rocks,
While down the ether, flaming out of the East,
Melodious angels in the sun-burst sang.
(_With his eyes burning and fixed upon the Priest._)
Now, Benedict, who lifted up that bell?
FATHER BENEDICT--'Twas God reclaimed it and restored His chime.
ABBOT--And if that bell had been a--soul, who then?
FATHER BENEDICT--Still God.
ABBOT-- And if that soul had been-- (_Vehemently._)
Oswald?
(_For a moment they look into one another's eyes,
the Abbot with a penetrating glance, the
Priest with a look of blank amazement. The
Abbot quickly drops his head and walks aside,
his face almost white, the drawn mouth and
furrowed brow showing a mind in desperation,
casting about for an escape._)
FATHER BENEDICT-- (_With rising resentment._)
What does this mean?
(_The monk, who a few yards back has been
pacing to and fro in order to overhear
the conversation, has stopped and stands
observing them. He has the same bewildered_
_expression as the Priest. The face of Louis
near the corner of the chapel reflects the
palor and perturbation of the Abbot's._)
FATHER BENEDICT-- You put my faith to test? (_A pause._)
A damned insult!
(_His brow darkens and he turns aside. Suddenly his
face lights up as with a revelation._)
Ah, I see what it means.
Out with it, Father. Speak what God commands. (_A pause._)
Before you speak I know what you will say. (_A pause._)
Out of pure envy you are silent.
(_He turns away. While the Priest and the Abbot
walk about, each occupied with his own
thought, Pierre and his two companions
approach and stand a few yards away,
observing them._)
ABBOT--(_With a glance toward the Priest_.) Out--?
FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Without turning._)
Of envy, or else fear that I would shrink.
You need not, though.
ABBOT--(_Stopping._) I fear that you would shrink?
FATHER BENEDICT--To you, too, my great honor has been revealed.
(_A pause._)
ABBOT--I do not understand you, Benedict.
FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Turning and facing the Abbot._)
Why do you hide it from me?
ABBOT-- What are you
Hiding from me?
FATHER BENEDICT-- You feared that I would shrink
To tear those jaws upon the mountain side.
Your dropping of your eyes shows I am right.
ABBOT-- (_Walking aside, composed._)
I was not sure.
FATHER BENEDICT--Why did you think that God
Had revealed it only to you?
ABBOT-- I was not sure
That what I had in mind you had in mind.
FATHER BENEDICT--And you thought you would feel about and see
If I knew it. And if I did not, "Truth, retire.
Do not obtrude yourself on Benedict.
He knows the hunter's dream. If he cannot
Discover whose hands those were the hunter saw
Reach through the green boughs of the Tree of Life
And tear the hell-jaws from the holy deer,
It is not your fault. And I lose no glory.
It is his own crass mind. He comes from Rome.
Florence is Athens come to life again."
ABBOT--Envy, you think?
FATHER BENEDICT-- I know it. When you asked
Whose hand it was that lifted up that bell,
I knew that you were feeling me about
To see if I knew that the hand was mine.
Had I not known it, do you suppose I think
You would have told me? Of your own accord:
"Benedict, God hath chosen you for this.
Be faithful to it. The glory is yours"? Not much.
You pride yourself on what you think is God,
Your erudition. But I know some things. (_He walks aside._)
ABBOT--It is hard to know what another has in mind.
FATHER BENEDICT--It may be hard for the Athenians.
ABBOT--I am an old man, Benedict, and with
White hair the eyes blur and the mind dulls. You,
Vigorous in body and in intellect.
Scale heights I cannot climb. Bear with me, then.
If I just now, forgetting youth is past,
Ventured to tilt with you, is it not enough
That you stand there triumphant while I here
Lie prostrate with my gray hairs in the dust?
(_He bows his head and walks to the rear._)
FATHER BENEDICT-- (_With a superior air._)
Rome is Jerusalem, the city of God.
(_Biting down his smile, Louis advances, his face
assuming a doleful expression._)
LOUIS-- (_In a low voice, barely hiding his irony._)
Don't treat the old man that way, Benedict.
You do not know how keenly Father feels
The issue of this bout. Amazed I stood
Just yonder by the chapel steps and watched
Your spears break into fire. O Benedict,
What skill, what skill, what admirable skill!
FATHER BENEDICT--In dialectics I do boast some skill.
LOUIS--Compared to Father's admirable skill!
FATHER BENEDICT-- (_With a leer toward the Abbot._)
For what I have I thank no heathen sage.
LOUIS--With that composure which the gods must feel
Your reached your spear and slipped his lady's glove--
FATHER BENEDICT--His lady's glove?
LOUIS-- The secret from his heart
In spite of all his desperate guarding it.
(_Guido comes from the dormitory with a large book
under his arm. As he passes toward the chapel
he turns his burden toward the Abbot, who
gives it an unconcerned glance and walks
right._)
FATHER BENEDICT--Why should he hide it from me?
LOUIS-- I can't say.
Father is not a man to show his heart.
He no doubt had his reason for it.
FATHER BENEDICT-- Humph!
LOUIS--I do know, though, that Father admires you.
FATHER BENEDICT--
Admires me?
LOUIS-- Yes.
FATHER BENEDICT--Scorns me.
LOUIS-- You are wrong.
FATHER BENEDICT--How do you know he does?
LOUIS-- Before you came,
Father had just conceived of a great temple
With you in large space on the entablature.
FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Opening his eyes._)
That is another proof he knew that I
Was to have part in that great enterprise
And achieve glory. And he lied to me.
(_The Abbot speaks to Pierre, who turns and goes
out, right._)
LOUIS--You may mistake what Father had in mind.
He may have thought it would be policy
To keep you in the dark about this thing.
FATHER BENEDICT--What cause had he to fear that I would shrink
To face the glory of the Lord that day?
'Tis only guilt that fears to face the Lord.
LOUIS--You may mistake what Father had in mind.
FATHER BENEDICT--Too subtle, I suppose, for my dull brain.
LOUIS--I do not think, though, that he envies you.
FATHER BENEDICT--You may have your opinion.
LOUIS-- You may not.
I mean you may not know what Father means.
FATHER BENEDICT--
You two know everything.
LOUIS-- I know one thing.
You would not have said, "You two know everything,"
If you had been here half an hour ago. (_Walking aside._)
With you in large space on the entablature.
FATHER BENEDICT--He need not think that God revealed to him
Alone my glory, for I knew it, too.
Blood appeared on my hands the other night,
And while the congregation sat amazed,
The altar cups took fire, and a white dove--
(_To the Abbot, who has drawn near._)
The night the brother fell I saw some things
During service would have made my hair stand up
Had I been less courageous than I am,
Or less near God. You would have quaked with fear,
And sought the books of some old heathen sage
For explanation. I--I went to God,
With the result that I am ready now.
I have been shown the blood of that great hound.
(_He looks at his hand._)
And I have got God's meaning. I am called.
Now, when the chase starts I will make my way
Up to the mountain tops and meet the Lord,
And Heathendom shall tumble down to Hell.
(_He espies the wine vessels over against the
dormitory wall and goes toward them, pulling
the ass by the bridle._)
ABBOT--What did you come up here to see me for?
FATHER BENEDICT-- (_Stopping._)
Come up to see you?
ABBOT-- You are here.
FATHER BENEDICT-- I am. (_A pause._)
It seems you don't know how I got my wool.
(_He continues his way across the court. Louis and
the Abbot whisper together. In the rear, from
behind the chapel, Macias, the hunter, enters
with a young deer upon his back, and at his
belt a brace of geese. Simon is holding one
of the fowls by the tip of its wing, Basil_
_and Rene following._)
BASIL--What'll you have, Simon?
SIMON-- Collops and sauce.
BASIL--Pluck-pudding or crupper?
SIMON-- Both, God bless us.
BASIL-- Both!
RENE--Goose, too?
SIMON-- Ay, stuffed with plums.
BASIL-- Why, you just had
A hunk of beef.