After this singular exordium, the monk proceeded in his harangue and it seemed as if his words, like the lava overflow from a volcano, withered all that was green and flowery in their path. The Universe in his desponding eloquence seemed but a vast desolation. All the beautiful illusions which the magic of passion conjures into the human soul died beneath his touch, changing into the phantoms, which perhaps they are. The vanity of hope, the shallowness of success, the bitterness which mingles with the greatest glory, the ecstasy of love,—all these the monk painted in the most powerful colours, to contrast them with the marble calm of that drooping form crucified upon the hill of Calvary.
Spellbound, the immense multitude listened to the almost superhuman eloquence of the friar. As yet his attacks had dealt only in generalities. The Senator of Rome seemed to listen to his words with a degree of satisfaction. A singularity remarked in his character by all his historians, which, by some, has been considered as proof of a nature not originally evil, was his love of virtue in the abstract. Frequent resolutions and recommendations to reform were perhaps only overcome by his violent passions, his ambition and the exigencies of his ambiguous state between church and empire. But as the monk detailed the crimes and monstrosities of the age, the calm on the Senator's face changed to a livid, satirical smile, and occasionally he pointed the invectives of the friar by nodding to those of his followers who were supposed to be guilty of the crimes alleged, as if to call upon them to notice that they were assailed, and many a noble shrank behind his neighbour whose conscience smote him of one or all the crimes enumerated by Nilus.
In one of his most daring flights the monk suddenly checked himself and announcing his vision of impending judgment, he bid his listeners prepare their souls in a prophetic and oracular tone, which was distinctly audible, amid all the muttering which pervaded the Basilica.
A few moments of devout silence followed. The monk was expected to kneel, to offer up a prayer for divine mercy. But he stood motionless in the chancel, and after waiting a short time, Gregory turned to an attendant:
"Go and see what ails the disciple of Benedict,—we will ourselves say the Gratias."
After rising, he stepped to the altar with the accustomed retinue of cardinals and prelates and chanted the benediction. At the conclusion Crescentius approached the altar alone, demanded permission to make a duteous offering and emptied a purse of gold on the salver.
"A most princely and regal benefaction," muttered the Pontifical Datary—"a most illustrious example."
"Charlemagne gave more, but so will I, when like him I come to receive the crown of the West," muttered the Senator of Rome. His example was immediately followed, and in a few moments the altar was heaped round with presents of extraordinary magnificence and bounty. Sacks of gold and silver were emptied out, jewels, crucifixes, relics, amber, gold-dust, ivories, pearls and rare spices were heaped up in promiscuous profusion, and in return each donor received a branch of consecrated palm from the hand of the Datary, whose keen eyes reflected the brightness of the treasures whose receipts he thus acknowledged.
The chant from various chapels now poured down the aisles its torrents of melody, the vast multitudes joining in the Gloria in Excelsis. Eckhardt's remote station had not permitted him to witness all that had happened. His gaze was still riveted on the friar, who was now staggering from the pulpit, when a terrific event turned and absorbed his attention.
The great bell of the Basilica was tolling and the vibration produced by so many sounds shook the vast and ancient pile so violently that a prodigious mass of iron, which formed one of the clappers of the bell, fell from the belfry in the airy spire and dashing with irresistible force through every obstruction, reached the floor at the very feet of the Pontiff, crushing a deep hole in the pavement and throwing a million pieces of shattered marble over him and his retinue.