22. How Many Angels May Dance Upon the Head of a Pin?
[The imperial dungeons, sunset.]
[In the subterranean darkness of the dungeons, the CARDINAL kneels, alone, disheveled, wrapped in heavy chains. And this cell is like Vysarius’ apartment, another pyramid, but all wet stones and hanging chains and scattered bones. He prays as the astronomer enters through a heavy, grated door.]
CARDINAL.
When the Judge his seat attaineth,
And each hidden deed arraigneth,
Nothing unavenged remaineth.
[LEOPOLD approaches.]
LEOPOLD.
Cardinal?
CARDINAL, turns, smiling, slightly depraved.
Astronomer. Consider: how many angels may dance upon the head of a pin?
LEOPOLD.
Say: how many?
CARDINAL.
Consider, first, whether the angels may cohabitate in time and place.
LEOPOLD.
May they?
CARDINAL.
Please answer, first, whether the angels are embodied.
LEOPOLD.
Are they?
CARDINAL, snapping, lurid.
You know full well they are! I told you not to look . . . [perversely] Tell me what you saw.
[LEOPOLD averts his gaze from the CARDINAL, who smiles and continues.]
Say then: cannot bodies coincide upon a single point?
LEOPOLD.
Cardinal, they cannot.
CARDINAL.
This we know, and that is well, of bodies seen, and what of those unseen? What can we know of what we do not know?
LEOPOLD.
Nothing.
CARDINAL.
Nothing? Nothing is something! Nothing is safety!
[There is a rattling behind the cell-door – the CARDINAL leans forward, whispers, frantic.]
It is known that in the Highest Heaven there be a million-million that thrice-cry
“Holy!” ’round the throne of God! What hope have we to hide from these? [composes himself, smiles] But, tell me why you’ve come.
LEOPOLD.
Priest, I am in a darkness.
Shine the light of faith on me.
Make me visible,
And through some miracle,
Help me to speak.
My light is gone, the sky,
And this, my wandering eye,
Are shuttered, black and starless.
Hope is vanished; all I see
Are shadows coming down on me
Through mists of endless ages.
CARDINAL.
You seek confession?
LEOPOLD.
…I do, and yet, my strange obsession
Is unsuited to confession.
It is a thing without a name.
[The CARDINAL rises to his feet.]
CARDINAL.
Do not the sacrament disdain.
The rite is blessed; repetition keeps off madness
And that other, stranger sadness
I sense in you, called shame.
Reach out for the stability
Of sacred possibility,
The Church’s grand authority,
Support against fragilities
That plague the sensibilities
Of clever men, like you.
Isolation is a chain
That binds one to one’s pain.
You are in a darkness,
Speak, then—speech is harmless.
LEOPOLD, almost a groan.
Vysarius.
CARDINAL.
I know that doctor well. He comes at night. Stands behind the door. Waits behind the bars. Strange confessor. Iron grille.
LEOPOLD.
And you?
CARDINAL.
I pray.
LEOPOLD.
For what?
CARDINAL.
Strange things: in a dream, I thought he spoke and saith that the throne of God has lost a wheel—that he must try the one-who-steals-with-eyes against the theft. I cry out to God that such a wheel would fall on me! He saith only “Patience! That which is dropped will certain fall!” . . . But it must have been a dream, for he will never speak.
LEOPOLD.
And then?
CARDINAL.
At daybreak, gone—but he will come again, sure as night will follow day. [pause] It had been better were you blind like me. Then you could not have seen what you have seen. But blindness is a gift bequeathed by age upon them wise enough to live that long, or else by God upon the young. Or else by God.
LEOPOLD.
The sun is close to set.
CARDINAL.
Then comes my fit again.
LEOPOLD.
And mine.
CARDINAL.
You saw God, doctor! And He saw you! What good can confession do you now?
[LEOPOLD bows to the CARDINAL and makes for the door.]
The Holy Ghost shall come on thee.
The Highest Power, shadow thee.
[LEOPOLD opens the cell’s heavy door – in comes smoke and then this flood of PALE ALTAR BOYS, sheer surplices over black cassocks, swinging several censers and carrying buckets of cheese. VYSARIUS comes after them, stately as a seraph, hardly taking notice of LEOPOLD, who shrinks from this procession in terror. LEOPOLD exits through the opened door as the CARDINAL is encircled. The ALTAR BOYS raise their buckets high. Blackout.]