Three Plays: Six Characters in Search of an Author, Henry IV, The Mountain Giants (Oxford World's Classics) (19 page)

BELCREDI
. Well, look at the doctor.

DOCTOR
. We shall just have to put up with it.

LADY MATILDA
. No, no. The doctor’s not so bad. But you! You really look ridiculous.

DOCTOR
[
to
LANDOLPH
]. So do you have many of these receptions here?

LANDOLPH
. It all depends. Often he summons this or that character. And then we have to find someone who’s ready to do it. Women too …

LADY MATILDA
[
hurt, but trying to hide it
]. Ah, women too?

LANDOLPH
. In the early days, yes … A lot.

BELCREDI
[
laughing
]. Oh, that’s nice! In costume? [
Indicating the
MARCHESA
] Like that?

LANDOLPH
. Well, you know, the sort of women who …

BELCREDI
. Who do that sort of thing. I quite understand. [
Maliciously to the
MARCHESA
] Watch out! This is getting risky for you.

The second right door opens and
HAROLD
enters: after a discreet sign that all conversation in the room should cease, he solemnly proclaims:

HAROLD
. His Majesty the Emperor!

The
TWO VALETS
enter and go to stand at the foot of the throne. Then
HENRY
enters between
ORDULPH
and
HAROLD
who remain a respectful distance behind. He is nearing fifty, very pale, and already grey at the back of his head; at temples and forehead, however, he seems blond, for his
hair is dyed in a very obvious and almost childish way. No less obvious is the doll-like make-up imposed on the tragic pallor of his cheeks. Over his regal robes he wears penitential sackcloth, as at Canossa. His eyes are fixed in an agonizing stare that is frightening to see: this conflicts with a bearing which is intended to show humble penitence and which is all the more ostentatious because he feels that the humiliation is undeserved
.
ORDULPH
holds the crown in both hands
,
HAROLD
the sceptre with the eagle and the orb with the cross
.

HENRY IV
[
bowing first to
LADY MATILDA
,
then to the
DOCTOR
]. My lady … Monsignor … [
He looks at
BELCREDI
and is about to bow, but then turns to
LANDOLPH
who has drawn near and asks in a suspicious whisper
] Is that Peter Damian?
^*

LANDOLPH
. No, Your Majesty, he’s a monk from Cluny who’s here with the Abbot.

HENRY IV
[
once again he examines
BELCREDI
with growing distrust; noticing how
BELCREDI
turns to
LADY MATILDA
and the
DOCTOR
with an irresolute and embarrassed look as if seeking advice, he straightens up and shouts
]. It
is
Peter Damian! No use looking at the Duchess, Father [
Suddenly turning to
LADY MATILDA
as if to ward off some danger
] I swear, I swear, my lady, that my feelings towards your daughter have changed. I confess that if he [
indicating
BELCREDI
] had not come to forbid it in the name of Pope Alexander, I would have repudiated her. Yes, there was someone who was ready to support repudiation—the Bishop of Mainz,
^*
in exchange for a hundred-and-twenty manors. [
He casts a bewildered sidelong glance at
LANDOLPH
,
then says quickly
] But this is no time to speak ill of bishops. [
Humbly to
BELCREDI
again
] I’m grateful now, Peter Damian, believe me, very grateful that you prevented me. My whole life has been made of humiliations—my mother, Adalbert, Tribur,
^*
Goslar—and now this sackcloth that you see me wearing. [
He suddenly changes tone and speaks like someone going over his part in a knowing aside
] No matter! Clear ideas, perspicacity, resolute bearing, patience in adversity! [
Then, turning to them all with contrite gravity
] I know how to correct the error of my ways: and before you too, Peter Damian, I humble myself. [
He bows deeply and remains bent before him, as if weighed down by some sudden obscure suspicion which now makes him add, almost against his will, in a menacing tone
] Unless it was you who started the obscene rumour that my sainted
mother Agnes has an illicit relationship with Bishop Henry of Augsburg!

BELCREDI
[
since
HENRY IV
remains bent over and pointing a threatening finger
,
BELCREDI
puts his hand on his heart in denial
]. No, not me, no …

HENRY IV
[
straightening up
]. No, is it true? An infamous slander! [
Fixes him for a moment, then says
] I don’t believe you’re capable of it. [
He approaches the
DOCTOR
and pulls his sleeve with a sly wink
] It’s ‘them’. Always the same crew, Monsignor.

HAROLD
[
low and sighing, as if to prompt the
DOCTOR
]. Ah yes, those rapacious bishops.

DOCTOR
[
keeping up the act, turning to
HAROLD
]. Them, ah, yes, of course … them …

HENRY IV
. Nothing was enough for them!—Just a poor lad, Monsignor, playing all day long, the way a boy does, even if he’s king without knowing it. Six years old
^*
I was when they stole me from my mother and used me, all unsuspecting, against her and against the very powers of the Dynasty, profaning everything, robbing, robbing; one more greedy than the other: Anno worse than Stephen, Stephen worse than Anno!

LANDOLPH
[
softly persuasive, bringing him back to the present
]. Your Majesty …

HENRY IV
[
turning round
]. Ah yes, indeed! At a time like this I mustn’t speak ill of bishops.—But this infamous slander about my mother, Monsignor, goes beyond all bounds! [
More tenderly, as he looks towards the
MARCHESA
] And I can’t even mourn her, my lady. I appeal to you; for surely you have a mother’s heart. She came here from her convent to see me about a month ago. Now they tell me she’s dead.
^*
[
A long pregnant pause: then, with a wry smile
] I can’t mourn her because if you’re here and I’m like this [
showing his sackcloth
], it means that I’m twenty-six years old.

HAROLD
[
in a low comforting whisper
]. And that, therefore, she’s alive, Your Majesty.

ORDULPH
[
as above
]. Still in her convent.

HENRY IV
[
turning to look at them
]. Of course, and so I can put off my grief until some other time. [
Showing the
MARCHESA
his dyed hair
with a touch of coquetry
] Look, still fair … [
Then softly confidential
] I did it for you. I wouldn’t need it myself. But some external sign comes in useful. Age limits, if you see what I mean, Monsignor? [
Returning to the
MARCHESA
and examining her hair
] Ah, but I see … you too, Duchess … [
With a wink and an expressive gesture
] Now that’s Italian … [
as if to say ‘false’, but without a shadow of contempt, more like malicious admiration
] God forbid that I should seem disgusted or surprised! What hopeless longings! Nobody wants to recognize the dark and fatal power that puts limits to our will. But there they are, since we’re born and we die.—To be born, Monsignor: did you want to be born? I didn’t. And between one event and the other, both independent of our will, so many things happen that we all wish didn’t happen; and we only resign ourselves to them with great reluctance.

DOCTOR
[
just to say something while he studies him attentively
]. All too true!

HENRY IV
. Just so. When we can’t resign ourselves, out come the hopeless longings. A woman who wants to be a man, an old man who wants to be young. None of us is lying or pretending—That’s just the way it is: in all good faith, the lot of us, we’ve adopted some fine fixed idea of ourselves. And yet, Monsignor, while you stand fast, holding on to your sacred vestments with both hands, here, out of your sleeves something comes slipping and slithering away like a snake without you noticing. Life, Monsignor! And it comes as a surprise when you see it suddenly take shape before you, escaping like that. There’s anger and spite against yourself; or remorse, remorse as well. Ah, if only you knew how much remorse I have found in my way—with a face that was mine, and yet so horrible that I could not bear to look on it … [
Going back to the
MARCHESA
] Has it never happened to you, my lady? You really remember being always the same, do you? Oh God, but one day—how could you? how could you do such a thing? [
He looks at her so intensely that she turns pale
]—yes, ‘that thing’—we understand each other (Oh, rest assured, I won’t tell anyone). And that you, Peter Damian, could be a friend of someone like …

LANDOLPH
[
as above
]. Your Majesty …

HENRY IV
[
promptly
]. No, no, I won’t name him! I know how much it upsets him. [
Turning to
BELCREDI
,
as if in passing
] What did you
think, eh? What did you think of him? … And yet, in spite of everything, we all still stick to our idea of ourselves, just as someone who’s growing old dyes his hair. What does it matter that you know this tint isn’t the real colour of my hair? You, my lady, surely don’t dye your hair to deceive others, or yourself; but only to deceive a little—a very little—your image in the mirror. I do it for a laugh, you do it in earnest. But I assure you, however much in earnest you are, you too are still wearing a mask, my lady; and I don’t mean the venerable coronet that adorns your brow and before which I bow, or your ducal mantle either. I only mean that memory you now seek to fix by artificial means, the memory of the blond hair that once pleased you so much—or the dark hair if you were dark—the fading image of your youth. For you, however, Peter Damian, the memory of what you have been and what you have done now seems like a recognition of past realities that remain within you—isn’t that so?—like a dream. For me too—like a dream—and so many of them, as I look back, inexplicable. Well, nothing surprising in that, Peter Damian; that’s what our life today will become tomorrow. [
All of a sudden he flies into a rage and grasps his sackcloth
] This sackcloth here! [
With a fierce joy he starts to tear it off, while
HAROLD, LANDOLPH
,
and
ORDULPH
,
alarmed, hurry to restrain him
] Ah, by God! [
Backing away, he takes off the sackcloth and shouts
] Tomorrow, at Brixen,
^*
twenty-seven German and Lombard bishops will sign with me the destitution of Pope Gregory VII—no Pontiff, but a false monk!

ORDULPH
[
with the other two, begging him to be quiet
]. Your Majesty, Your Majesty, in God’s name!

HAROLD
[
signalling that he should put the sackcloth back on
]. Be careful what you say.

LANDOLPH
. Monsignor is here, and the Duchess too, to intercede on your behalf. [
He makes discreet and urgent signs to the
DOCTOR
that he should say something without delay
]

DOCTOR
[
confused
]. Er, well … yes … We’re here to intercede …

HENRY IV
[
repenting immediately, almost frightened, letting the three of them put the sackcloth back on his shoulders, and clutching it to himself with nervous hands
]. Forgive me, yes, yes, forgive me, Monsignor; forgive me, my lady … I feel it, I swear that I feel it, all the weight of the anathema. [
He bends forward with his head in his hands, as if
expecting something to come and crush him; he remains so for a while and then, with altered voice but not changing his posture, says to
HAROLD
and
ORDULPH
in a confidential whisper
] I don’t know why it is, but today I can’t manage to be humble before that fellow there. [
With a stealthy gesture towards
BELCREDI
]

LANDOLPH
[
softly
]. But that’s because Your Majesty insists on believing that he’s Peter Damian, and he’s not.

HENRY IV
[
with a fearful sidelong glance
]. Not Peter Damian?

HAROLD
. No, Your Majesty, just a poor monk.

HENRY IV
[
sadly, sighing with exasperation
]. Well, none of us can judge what we’re doing when we act on instinct … Perhaps you, my lady, can understand me better than the rest because you’re a woman. [This is a solemn and decisive moment. Now, you see, in this very moment as I speak to you, I could accept the help of the Lombard bishops and have the Pope in my power, besieging him here in this castle; and then I could hurry to Rome and elect an anti-pope; offer an alliance to Robert Guiscard.
^*
Gregory VII would be lost! I resist the temptation, and, believe me, I’m wise to do so. I feel the spirit of the age and the majesty of a man who knows how to be what he must be: a Pope! Perhaps you feel like laughing at me now, seeing me like this? But you’d be fools, because you would not have understood the political wisdom that leads me to wear this sackcloth. I tell you that tomorrow the roles could be reversed. And then what would you do? Would you, by any chance, laugh at the Pope in prison garb? No. We would be even.—Me today, masked as a penitent; him tomorrow, masked as a prisoner. But woe betide the man who knows not how to wear his mask, whether as King or Pope.—This time, perhaps he is a shade too cruel: yes, that he is.]
^*
Think, my lady, about your daughter Bertha, towards whom, I repeat, my heart has changed [
turning suddenly to
BELCREDI
and shouting in his face as if he had been contradicted
], changed, yes, changed—because of the love and devotion she has shown me in this terrible moment! [
He stops, shaken by the angry outburst, and makes an effort to control himself with an exasperated groan; then he turns again to the
MARCHESA
,
humbly sorrowful and sweet
] She has come here with me, my lady; she is down there in the courtyard; she chose to follow me like a beggarwoman; and now she is cold, freezing cold, from two nights out in the open, out
in the snow. You are her mother. In the bowels of mercy you should be moved to go with him [
indicating the
DOCTOR
] to implore the pardon of the Pope—and that he grant us audience!