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CORNELL 

UNIVERSITY 

LIBRARY 


UNDERGRADUATE  LIBRARY 


Date  Due 


Cornell  University  Library 
PR  4219.A1  1899 

The  ring  arid  the  book. 


3  1924  014  159  903 


Cornell  University 
Library 


The  original  of  tliis  book  is  in 
tine  Cornell  University  Library. 

There  are  no  known  copyright  restrictions  in 
the  United  States  on  the  use  of  the  text. 


http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924014159903 


ROBERT  BROWNING 


THE  EING  AND  THE  BOOK 


Wiit^  ^Introauctwn  aito  liotes 


BOSTON  AND   NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1899, 
By  HOUGHTON,  MirrLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 

537) 
X 


CONTENTS 

iNTBODtrOTIOir TJi 

The  Ring  and  the  Book 

I.   The  Ring  and  the  Book 1 

II.   Half-Rome         .        .        .       .       ,        .       =       .       .  33 

III.  The  Othbk  Hale-Rome 68 

IV.  Teetidm  Quid ,        =        .        »  106 

V.  Count  Guido  Feanceschini        .       .       .       .       .       .143 

VI.   Giuseppe  Caponsacchi      .......  189 

VII.    POMPILIA 237 

VIII.  DoMiNus  Htacinthus  de  Ahohangelis,  pauperum  pro- 
curator     279 

IX.  Juris  Doctor  Johannes-Baptista  Bottinius,  Fisci  et 

Rev.  Cam.  Apostol.  Advocatus 320 

X   The  Pope 356 

XI.   Guido ,        .  404 

XII.   The  Book  and  the  Ring         ......  458 

Notes 479 


INTRODUCTION. 


Browning  first  made  mention  of  his  most  extended  poem,  so 
far  as  his  published  correspondence  is  concerned,  in  a  letter  to 
Miss  Blagden  from  Biarritz,  written  September  19,  1862.  In 
that  letter  he  speaks  of  his  "  new  poem  that  is  about  to  be,  and 
of  which  the  whole  is  pretty  well  in  my  [his]  head,  —  the  Eoman 
murder  story  you  know." 

It  was  in  June  of  the  year  1857  or  1858  that  when  wandering 
one  day  among  the  shops  in  the  Piazza  San  Lorenzo,  Florence, 
Browning  found  at  a  book-stall  an  old  book  describing  in  Latin 
a  murder-trial  that  took  place  in  Home  during  the  year  1679. 
It  was  a  printed  book,  with  manuscript  additions  ;  and  it  con- 
tained the  testimony,  pleadings  of  the  lawyers,  and  various  doc- 
uments connected  with  the  case  as  it  appeared  in  court,  with 
contemporary  accounts  of  the  execution.  This  book  was  bought 
by  the  poet  for  eightpence,  carried  to  his  home  at  Casa  Guidi, 
and  read  through  at  once.  By  the  evening  the  whole  tragedy 
unfolded  itself  to  his  imagination  in  all  its  details.  Deeply  as 
he  was  interested,  however,  he  did  not  at  once  decide  to  make 
the  little  book  into  a  poem.  In  fact  he  offered  it  to  Miss  Ogle, 
author  of  A  Lost  Love,  as  a  fitting  subject  for  prose  fiction  ; 
and  Mrs.  Orr  is  almost  certain  that  he  also  offered  it  to  one  of 
his  leading  contemporaries  as  a  subject  for  poetic  treatment. 

After  four  years  had  passed  by,  and  his  DraTnatis  Personce 
and  In  a  Balcony  had  been  completed  and  published,  the  poet 
turned  to  the  murder-trial  himself  with  the  purpose  of  giving  it 
extended  poetic  treatment.  When  writing  to  Miss  Blagden,  in 
1862,  he  had  probably  recently  begun  upon  it,  but  had  the  sub- 
ject then  well  in  hand.  Writing  to  the  same  person  in  August, 
1865,  he  gave  expression  to  his  growing  confidence  in  the  great- 
ness of  the  work  he  was  engaged  upon,  for  he  said  to  her  :  "  I 


viii  INTRODUCTION 

certainly  will  do  my  utmost  to  make  the  most  of  my  poor  self 
before  I  die.  ...  So  good  luck  to  my  great  venture,  the  murder- 
poem,  which  I  do  hope  will  strike  you  and  all  good  lovers  of 
mine." 

In  writing  this  poem  Browning  made  detailed  use  of  the  book 
he  had  bought  in  the  Piazza  San  Lorenzo.  The  opening  book 
of  the  poem  gives  a  f uU  account  of  his  discovery,  and  of  the 
contents  of  the  volume  he  purchased  so  luckily.  With  literal 
truth  he  repeats  the  facts  there  presented.  When  asked  if  he 
did  not  feel  happy  to  have  created  such  a  woman  as  Pompilia, 
he  replied  :  "  I  assure  you  that  I  found  her  just  as  she  speaks 
and  acts  in  my  poem  in  that  old  book."  The  poet  also  showed 
a  warm  affection  for  the  old  Pope  of  his  poem.  Once  he  found 
a  medal  of  him  in  an  antiquary's  shop  in  London,  and  on  his 
return  to  purchase  it  found  that  it  was  gone.  He  was  told  that 
Lady  Houghton  (Mrs.  Richard  Monckton  Milnes)  had  bought 
it.  He  asked  her  to  loan  it  to  him,  but  she  gave  it  to  him  in- 
stead, probably  having  bought  it  for  that  purpose.  Some  one 
also  found  in  a  London  print-shop  a  portrait  of  Count  Guido 
Franceschini  on  the  day  of  his  execution,  and  sent  it  to  the  poet. 

Writing  to  Sir  Frederic  Leighton,  October  17,  1864,  Brown- 
ing invited  the  aid  of  his  friend  in  securing  accuracy  of  de- 
scription in  his  account  of  Pompilia  :  "  A  favor,  if  you  have 
time  for  it.  Go  into  the  church  St.  Lorenzo  in  Lucina  in  the 
Corso  —  and  look  attentively  at  it  —  so  as  to  describe  it  to  me 
on  your  return.  The  general  arrangement  of  the  building,  if 
with  a  nave  —  pillars  or  not  —  the  number  of  altars,  and  any 
particularity  there  may  be  —  over  the  High  Altar  is  a  famous 
Crucifixion  by  Guido.  It  will  be  of  great  use  to  me.  I  don't 
care  about  the  outside." 

Shortly  before  its  publication  Browning  wrote  :  "  I  want  to 
get  done  with  my  poem.  Booksellers  are  making  me  pretty 
offers  for  it.  One  sent  to  propose,  last  week,  to  publish  it  at 
his  risk,  giving  me  all  the  profits,  and  pay  me  the  whole  in  ad- 
vance —  for  the  incidental  advantages  of  my  name  —  the  R.  B. 
who  for  six  months  once  did  not  sell  one  copy  of  the  poems  ! 
I  ask  £200  for  the  sheets  to  America,  and  shall  get  it." 

The  first  three  books  of  the  poem  were  published  in  London 


INTRODUCTION  ix 

during  November,  1868,  and  were  followed  in  December  by 
the  second  volume  of  the  same  number  of  books.  The  remain- 
ing two  volumes  appeared  in  January  and  February,  1869,  each 
containing  three  books.  The  poem  was  at  once  favorably  re- 
ceived, appreciative  reviews  were  devoted  to  it,  and  it  was  read 
with  interest  and  admiration.  For  the  first  time  in  his  career 
of  authorship  Browning  found  himself  accepted  as  a  great  poet. 
The  recognition  had  come  tardily,  but  it  was  now  assured  and 
permanent. 


THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

[1868-9] 

I. 

THE   RING  AND  THE  BOOK. 

Do  you  see  this  Ring  ? 

'T  is  Rome-work,  made  to  match 
(By  Castellani's  imitative  craft) 
Etrurian  circlets  found,  some  happy  mom. 
After  a  dropping  April ;  found  alive 
Spark-Uke  'mid  unearthed  slope-side  figtree-roots 
That  roof  old  tombs  at  Chiusi :  soft,  you  see. 
Yet  crisp  as  jewel-cutting.     There 's  one  trick, 
(Craftsmen  instruct  me)  one  approved  device 
And  but  one,  fits  such  slivers  of  pure  gold 
As  this  was,  —  such  mere  oozings  from  the  mine. 
Virgin  as  oval  tawny  pendent  tear 
At  beehive-edge  when  ripened  combs  o'ei-flow,  — 
To  bear  the  file's  tooth  and  the  hammer's  tap : 
Since  hammer  needs  must  widen  out  the  round. 
And  file  emboss  it  fine  with  lily-flowers. 
Ere  the  stuff  grow  a  ring-thing  right  to  wear. 
That  trick  is :  the  artificer  melts  up  wax 
With  honey,  so  to  speak ;  he  mingles  gold 
With  gold's  alloy,  and,  duly  tempering  both, 
Effects  a  manageable  mass,  then  works : 
But  his  work  ended,  once  the  thing  a  ring, 
Oh,  there 's  repristination !     Just  a  spirt 
O'  the  proper  fiery  acid  o'er  its  face, 
And  forth  the  alloy  unfastened  flies  in  fume ; 
While,  self-sufficient  now,  the  shape  remains, 
The  rondure  brave,  the  lilied  loveliness. 
Gold  as  it  was,  is,  shall  be  evermore : 
Prime  nature  with  an  added  artistry  — 
No  carat  lost,  and  you  have  gained  a  ring. 
What  of  it  ?     'T  is  a  figure,  a  symbol,  say ; 
A  thing's  sign  :  now  for  the  thing  signified. 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Do  you  see  this  square  old  yellow  Book,  I  toss 

I'  the  air,  and  catch  again,  and  twirl  about 

By  the  crumpled  vellum  covers,  —  pure  crude  fact 

Secreted  from  man's  life  when  hearts  beat  hard, 

And  brains,  high-blooded,  ticked  two  centuries  since  ? 

Examine  it  yourselves  I     I  found  this  book, 

Gave  a  lira  for  it,  eightpence  English  justj 

(Mark  the  predestination  !)  when  a  Hand, 

Always  above  my  shoulder,  pushed  me  once. 

One  day  still  fierce  'mid  many  a  day  struck  calm. 

Across  a  Square  in  Florence,  crammed  with  booths, 

Buzzing  and  blaze,  noontide  and  market-time. 

Toward  Baccio's  marble,  —  ay,  the  basement-ledge 

O'  the  pedestal  where  sits  and  menaces 

John  of  the  Black  Bands  with  the  upright  spear, 

'Twixt  palace  and  church,  —  Riccardi  where  they  lived, 

His  race,  and  San  Lorenzo  where  they  lie. 

This  book,  —  precisely  on  that  palace-step 

Which,  meant  for  lounging  knaves  o'  the  Medicj, 

Now  serves  re-venders  to  display  their  ware,  — 

'Mongst  odds  and  ends  of  ravage,  picture-frames 

White  through  the  worn  gilt,  mirror-sconces  chipped. 

Bronze  angel-heads  once  knobs  attached  to  chests 

(Handled  when  ancient  dames  chose  forth  brocade). 

Modern  chalk  drawings,  studies  from  the  nude. 

Samples  of  stone,  jet,  breccia,  porphyry 

Polished  and  rough,  sundry  amazing  busts 

In  baked  earth  (broken,  Providence  be  praised  !) 

A  wreck  of  tapestry,  proudly-purposed  web 

When  reds  and  blues  were  indeed  red  and  blue. 

Now  offered  as  a  mat  to  save  bare  feet 

(Since  carpets  constitute  a  cruel  cost) 

Treading  the  chill  scagliola  bedward  ;  then 

A  pile  of  brown-etched  prints,  two  crazie  each, 

Stopped  by  a  conch  a-top  from  fluttering  forth 

—  Sowing  the  Square  with  works  of  one  and  the  same 

Master,  the  imaginative  Sienese 

Great  in  the  scenic  backgrounds  —  (name  and  fame 

None  of  you  know,  nor  does  he  fare  the  worse :) 

From  these  .  .  .  Oh,  with  a  Lionard  going  cheap 

If  it  should  prove,  as  promised,  that  Joconde 

Whereof  a  copy  contents  the  Louvre  !  —  these 

I  picked  this  book  from.     Five  compeers  in  flank 

Stood  left  and  right  of  it  as  tempting  more  — 

A  dogseared  Spicilegium,  the  fond  tale 

0'  the  Frail  One  of  the  Flower,  by  young  Dumas, 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Vulgarized  Horace  for  the  use  of  schools, 
The  Life,  Death,  Miracles  of  Saint  Somehody, 
Saint  Somebody  Else,  his  Miracles,  Death  and  Life,  — 
With  this,  one  glance  at  the  lettered  back  of  which, 
And  "  Stall !  "  cried  I :  a  lira  made  it  mine. 

Here  it  is,  this  I  toss  and  take  again ; 
Small-quarto  size,  part  print  part  manuscript : 
A  book  in  shape  but,  really,  pure  crude  fact 
Secreted  from  man's  life  when  hearts  beat  hard. 
And  brains,  high-blooded,  ticked  two  centuries  since. 
Give  it  me  back !     The  thing 's  restorative 
I'  the  touch  and  sight. 

That  memorable  day, 
(June  was  the  month,  Lorenzo  named  the  Square), 
I  leaned  a  little  and  overlooked  my  prize 
By  the  low  railing  round  the  fountain-source 
Close  to  the  statue,  where  a  step  descends : 
WhUe  clinked  the  cans  of  copper,  as  stooped  and  rose 
Thick-ankled  girls  who  brimmed  them,  and  made  place 
For  marketmen  glad  to  pitch  basket  down, 
Dip  a  broad  melon-leaf  that  holds  the  wet, 
And  whisk  their  faded  fresh.     And  on  I  read 
Presently,  though  my  path  grew  perilous 
Between  the  outspread  straw-work,  piles  of  plait 
Soon  to  be  flapping,  each  o'er  two  black  eyes 
And  swathe  of  Tuscan  hair,  on  festas  fine  : 
Through  fire-irons,  tribes  of  tongs,  shovels  in  sheaves. 
Skeleton  bedsteads,  wardrobe-drawers  agape, 
Rows  of  taU  sUm  brass  lamps  with  dangling  gear,  — 
And  worse,  cast  clothes  a-sweetening  in  the  sun  : 
None  of  them  took  my  eye  from  off  my  prize. 
Still  read  I  on,  from  written  title-page 
To  written  index,  on,  through  street  and  street, 
At  the  Strozzi,  at  the  Pillar,  at  the  Bridge  ; 
TUl,  by  the  time  I  stood  at  home  again 
In  Casa  Guidi  by  Felice  Church, 
Under  the  doorway  where  the  black  begins 
With  the  first  stone-slab  o'f  the  staircase  cold, 
I  had  mastered  the  contents,  knew  the  whole  truth 
Gathered  together,  bound  up  in  this  book, 
Print  three-fifths,  written  supplement  the  rest. 
"  Romana  Homicidiorum  "  —  nay, 
Better  translate  —  "A  Roman  murder-case  : 
Position  of  the  entire  criminal  cause 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Of  Guido  Franceschini,  nobleman, 
With  certain  Four  the  cutthroats  in  his  pay, 
Tried,  all  five,  and  found  guilty  and  put  to  death 
By  heading  or  hanging  as  befitted  ranks, 
At  Rome  on  February  Twenty  Two, 
Since  our  salvation  Sixteen  Ninety  Eight : 
Wherein  it  is  disputed  if,  and  when. 
Husbands  may  kill  adulterous  wives,  yet  'scape 
The  customary  forfeit." 

Word  for  word. 
So  ran  the  title-page  :  murder,  or  else 
Legitimate  punishment  of  the  other  crime, 
Accounted  murder  by  mistake,  —  just  that 
And  no  more,  in  a  Latin  cramp  enough 
When  the  law  had  her  eloquence  to  launch. 
But  interfilleted  with  Italian  streaks 
When  testimony  stooped  to  mother-tongue,  — 
That,  was  this  old  square  yellow  book  about. 

Now,  as  the  ingot,  ere  the  ring  was  forged. 

Lay  gold,  (beseech  you,  hold  that  figure  fast !) 

So,  in  this  book  lay  absolutely  truth, 

Fanciless  fact,  the  documents  indeed. 

Primary  lawyer-pleadings  for,  against, 

The  aforesaid  Five  ;  real  summed-up  circumstance 

Adduced  in  proof  of  these  on  either  side. 

Put  forth  and  printed,  as  the  practice  was. 

At  Rome,  in  the  Apostolic  Chamber's  type, 

And  so  submitted  to  the  eye  o'  the  Court 

Presided  over  by  His  Reverence 

Rome's  Governor  and  Criminal  Judge,  —  the  trial 

Itself,  to  all  intents,  being  then  as  now 

Here  in  the  book  and  nowise  out  of  it ; 

Seeing,  there  properly  was  no  judgment-bar, 

No  bringing  of  accuser  and  accused, 

And  whoso  judged  both  parties,  face  to  face 

Before  some  court,  as  we  conceive  of  courts. 

There  was  a  Hall  of  Justice  ;  that  came  last : 

For  Justice  had  a  chamber  by 'the  hall 

Where  she  took  evidence  first,  summed  up  the  same, 

Then  sent  accuser  and  accused  alike. 

In  person  of  the  advocate  of  each. 

To  weigh  its  worth,  thereby  arrange,  array 

The  battle.     'T  was  the  so-styled  Fisc  began, 

Pleaded  (and  since  he  only  spoke  in  print 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  printed  voice  of  him  lives  now  as  then) 

The  public  Prosecutor —  "  Murder  's  proved  ; 

With  five  .  .  .  what  we  call  qualities  of  bad, 

"Worse,  worst,  and  yet  worse  still,  and  still  worse  yet ; 

Crest  over  crest  crowning  the  cockatrice, 

That  beggar  hell's  regalia  to  enrich 

Count  Guido  Franceschini :  punish  him  !  " 

Thus  was  the  paper  put  before  the  court 

In  the  next  stage,  (no  noisy  work  at  aU,) 

To  study  at  ease.     In  due  time  like  reply 

Came  from  the  so-styled  Patron  of  the  Poor, 

OiEcial  mouthpiece  of  the  five  accused 

Too  poor  to  fee  a  better,  —  Guido's  luck 

Or  else  his  fellows',  —  which,  I  hardly  know,  — 

An  outbreak  as  of  wonder  at  the  world, 

A  fury-fit  of  outraged  innocence, 

A  passion  of  betrayed  simplicity  : 

"  Punish  Count  Guido  ?     For  what  crime,  what  hint 
O'  the  color  of  a  crime,  inform  us  first ! 
Reward  him  rather  !     Recognize,  we  say. 
In  the  deed  done,  a  righteous  judgment  dealt ! 
All  conscience  and  all  courage,  —  there's  our  Count 
Charactered  in  a  word  ;  and,  what 's  more  strange, 
He  had  companionship  in  privilege. 
Found  four  courageous  conscientious  friends  : 
Absolve,  applaud  all  five,  as  props  of  law, 
Sustainers  of  society !  —  perchance 
A  trifle  over-hasty  with  the  hand 
To  hold  her  tottering  ark,  had  tumbled  else; 
But  that 's  a  splendid  fault  whereat  we  wink, 
Wishing  your  cold  correctness  sparkled  so  !  " 
Thus  paper  second  followed  paper  first, 
Thus  did  the  two  join  issue  —  nay,  the  four. 
Each  pleader  having  an  adjunct.     "  True,  he  killed 
—  So  to  speak  —  in  a  certain  sort  —  his  wife, 
But  laudably,  since  thus  it  happed  !  "  quoth  one  : 
Whereat,  more  witness  and  the  case  postponed. 

"  Thus  it  happed  not,  since  thus  he  did  the  deed. 
And  proved  himself  thereby  portentousest 
Of  cutthroats  and  a  prodigy  of  crime, 
As  the  woman  that  he  slaughtered  was  a  saint. 
Martyr  and  miracle  !  "  quoth  the  other  to  match : 
Again,  more  witness,  and  the  case  postponed. 

"  A  miracle,  ay  —  of  lust  and  impudence  ; 
Hear  my  new  reasons  !  "  interposed  the  first : 

"  —  Coupled  with  more  of  mine .'  "  pursued  his  peer. 


'( 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

"  Beside,  the  precedents,  the  authorities  !  " 
From  both  at  once  a  cry  with  an  echo,  that ! 
That  was  a  firebrand  at  each  fox's  tail 
Unleashed  in  a  cornfield :  soon  spread  flare  enough. 
As  hurtled  thither  and  there  heaped  themselves 
From  earth's  four  corners,  all  authority 
And  precedent  for  putting  wives  to  death, 
Or  letting  wives  live,  sinful  as  they  seem. 
How  legislated,  now,  in  this  respect, 
Solon  and  his  Athenians  ?     Quote  the  code 
Of  Eomulus  and  Rome  !     Justinian  speak  ! 
Nor  modern  Baldo,  Bartolo  be  dumb  ! 
The  Roman  voice  was  potent,  plentiful ; 
Cornelia  de  Sicariis  hurried  to  help 
Pompeia  de  Parricidiis  ;  Julia  de 
Something-or-other  jostled  Lex  this-and-that ; 
King  Solomon  confirmed  Apostle  Paul : 
That  nice  decision  of  Dolabella,  eh  ? 
That  pregnant  instance  of  Theodoric,  oh ! 
Down  to  that  choice  example  ^lian  gives 
(An  instance  I  find  much  insisted  on) 
Of  the  elephant  who,  brute-beast  though  he  were, 
Yet  understood  and  punished  on  the  spot 
His  master's  naughty  spouse  and  faithless  friend; 
A  true  tale  which  has  edified  each  child. 
Much  more  shall  flourish  favored  by  our  court ! 
Pages  of  proof  this  way,  and  that  way  proof. 
And  always  —  once  again  the  case  postponed. 

Thus  wrangled,  brangled,  Jangled  they  a  month, 

—  Only  on  paper,  pleadings  all  in  print, 

Nor  ever  was,  except  i'  the  brains  of  men. 

More  noise  by  word  of  mouth  than  you  hear  now  — 

Till  the  court  cut  all  short  with  "  Judged,  your  cause. 

Receive  our  sentence  !     Praise  God !     We  pronounce 

Count  Guide  devilish  and  damnable : 

His  wife  Pompilia  in  thought,  word  and  deed, 

Was  perfect  pure,  he  murdered  her  for  that : 

As  for  the  Four  who  helped  the  One,  all  Five  — 

Why,  let  employer  and  hireHngs  share  alike 

In  guilt  and  guilt's  reward,  the  death  their  due  !  " 

So  was  the  trial  at  end,  do  you  suppose  ? 
"  Guilty  you  find  him,  death  you  doom  him  to  ? 
Ay,  were  not  Guide,  more  than  needs,  a  priest, 
Priest  and  to  spare  !  "  — this  was  a  shot  reserved  ; 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

I  leam  this  from  epistles  which  begin 
Here  where  the  print  ends,  —  see  the  pen  and  ink 
Of  the  advocate,  the  ready  at  a  pinch !  — 
"  My  client  boasts  the  clerkly  privilege. 
Has  taken  minor  orders  many  enough, 
Shows  still  sufficient  chrism  upon  his  pate 
To  neutralize  a  blood-stain :  presbyter, 
PrimoB  tonsurm,  subdiaeonus, 
Sacerdos,  so  he  slips  from  underneath 
Your  power,  the  temporal,  slides  inside  the  robe 
Of  mother  Church :  to  her  we  make  appeal 
By  the  Pope,  the  Church's  head !  " 

A  parlous  plea, 
Put  in  with  noticeable  efEect,  it  seems ; 

"  Since  straight,"  —  resumes  the  zealous  orator. 
Making  a  friend  acquainted  with  the  facts,  — 

"  Once  the  word  '  clericality  '  let  fall. 
Procedure  stopped  and  freer  breath  was  drawn 
By  all  considerate  and  responsible  Rome." 
Quality  took  the  decent  part,  of  course  ; 
Held  by  the  husband,  who  was  noble  too : 
Or,  for  the  matter  of  that,  a  churl  would  side 
With  too-refined  susceptibility. 
And  honor  which,  tender  in  the  extreme. 
Stung  to  the  quick,  must  roughly  right  itself 
At  all  risks,  not  sit  still  and  whine  for  law 
As  a  Jew  would,  if  you  squeezed  him  to  the  wall, 
Brisk-trotting  through  the  Ghetto.     Nay,  it  seems, 
Even  the  Emperor's  Envoy  had  his  say 
To  say  on  the  subject ;  might  not  see,  unmoved, 
Civility  menaced  throughout  Christendom 
By  too  harsh  measure  dealt  her  champion  here. 
Lastly,  what  made  all  safe,  the  Pope  was  kind. 
From  his  youth  up,  reluctant  to  take  life. 
If  mercy  might  be  just  and  yet  show  grace ; 
Much  more  unlikely  then,  in  extreme  age. 
To  take  a  life  the  general  sense  bade  spare. 
'T  was  plain  that  Guido  would  go  scatheless  yet. 

But  human  promise,  oh,  how  short  of  shine  ! 
How  topple  down  the  piles  of  hope  we  rear ! 
How  history  proves  .   .  .  nay,  read  Herodotus ! 
Suddenly  starting  from  a  nap,  as  it  were, 
A  dog-sleep  with  one  shut,  one  open  orb. 
Cried  the  Pope's  great  self,  —  Innocent  by  name 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  nature  too,  and  eighty-six  years  old, 

Antonio  Pignatelli  of  Naples,  Pope 

Who  had  trod  many  lands,  known  many  deeds. 

Probed  many  hearts,  beginning  with  his  own. 

And  now  was  far  in  readiness  for  God,  — 

'T  was  he  who  first  bade  leave  those  souls  in  peace. 

Those  Jansenists,  re-nicknamed  Molinists, 

('Gainst  whom  the  cry  went,  like  a  frowsy  tune, 

i'ickling  men's  ears  —  the  sect  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour 

I'  the  teeth  of  the  world  which,  clown-like,  lores  to  chew 

Be  it  but  a  straw  'twixt  work  and  whistling-while. 

Taste  some  vituperation,  bite  away. 

Whether  at  marjoram-sprig  or  garlic-clove, 

Aught  it  may  sport  with,  spoil,  and  then  spit  forth,) 

"  Leave  them  alone,"  bade  he,  "  those  Molinists  ! 
Who  may  have  other  light  than  we  perceive, 
Or  why  is  it  the  whole  world  hates  them  thus  ?  " 
Also  he  peeled  off  that  last  scandal-rag 
Of  Nepotism ;  and  so  observed  the  poor 
That  men  would  merrily  say,  "  Halt,  deaf  and  blind. 
Who  feed  on  fat  things,  leave  the  master's  self 
To  gather  up  the  fragments  of  his  feast, 
These  be  the  nephews  of  Pope  Innocent !  — 
His  own  meal  costs  but  five  carliiies  a  day, 
Poor-priest's  allowance,  for  he  claims  no  more." 
—  He  cried  of  a  sudden,  this  great  good  old  Pope, 
When  they  appealed  in  last  resort  to  him, 

"I  have  mastered  the  whole  matter  :  I  nothing  doubfc 
Though  Guido  stood  forth  priest  from  head  to  heel, 
Instead  of,  as  alleged,  a  piece  of  one,  — 
And  further,  were  he,  from  the  tonsured  scalp 
To  the  sandaled  sole  of  him,  my  son  and  Christ's, 
Instead  of  touching  us  by  finger-tip 
As  you  assert,  and  pressing  up  so  close 
Only  to  set  a  blood-smutch  on  our  robe,  — 
I  and  Christ  would  renounce  all  right  in  him. 
Am  I  not  Pope,  and  presently  to  die. 
And  busied  how  to  render  my  account. 
And  shall  I  wait  a  day  ere  I  decide 
On  doing  or  not  doing  justice  here  ? 
Cut  off  his  head  to-morrow  by  this  time. 
Hang  up  his  four  mates,  two  on  either  hand. 
And  end  one  business  more  !  " 

So  said,  so  done  — 
Rather  so  writ,  for  the  old  Pope  bade  this, 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

I  find,  with  his  particular  chirograph, 

His  own  no  such  infirm  hand,  Friday  night ; 

And  next  day,  February  Twenty  Two, 

Since  our  salvation  Sixteen  Ninety  Eight, 

—  Not  at  the  proper  head-and-hanging-place 

On  bridge-foot  close  by  Castle  Angelo, 

"Where  custom  somewhat  staled  the  spectacle, 

('T  was  not  so  well  i'  the  way  of  Rome,  beside, 

The  noble  Rome,  the  Rome  of  Guido's  rank) 

But  at  the  city's  newer  gayer  end,  — 

The  cavalcading  promenading  place 

Beside  the  gate  and  opposite  the  church 

Under  the  Pincian  gardens  green  with  Spring, 

'Neath  the  obelisk  'twixt  the  fountains  in  the  Square, 

Did  Guido  and  his  fellows  find  their  fate. 

All  Rome  for  witness,  and  —  my  writer  adds  — 

Remonstrant  in  its  universal  grief. 

Since  Guido  had  the  suffrage  of  all  Rome. 

This  is  the  bookful ;  thus  far  take  the  truth, 

The  untempered  gold,  the  fact  untampered  with, 

The  mere  ring-metal  ere  the  ring  be  made  ! 

And  what  has  hitherto  come  of  it  ?     Who  preserves 

The  memory  of  this  Guido,  and  his  wife 

Pompilia,  more  than  AdemoUo's  name, 

The  etcher  of  those  prints,  two  crazie  each. 

Saved  by  a  stone  from  snowing  broad  the  Square 

With  scenic  backgrounds  ?     Was  this  truth  of  force  ? 

Able  to  take  its  own  part  as  truth  should. 

Sufficient,  self-sustaining  ?     Why,  if  so  — 

Yonder 's  a  fire,  into  it  goes  my  book. 

As  who  shall  say  me  nay,  and  what  the  loss  ? 

You  know  the  tale  already  :  I  may  ask, 

Rather  than  think  to  tell  you,  more  thereof,  — 

Ask  you  not  merely  who  were  he  and  she. 

Husband  and  wife,  what  manner  of  mankind. 

But  how  you  hold  concerning  this  and  that 

Other  yet-unnamed  actor  in  the  piece. 

The  young  frank  handsome  courtly  Canon,  now, 

The  priest,  declared  the  lover  of  the  wife. 

He  who,  no  question,  did  elope  with  her, 

For  certain  bring  the  tragedy  about, 

Giuseppe  Caponsacchi ;  —  his  strange  course 

I'  the  matter,  was  it  right  or  wrong  or  both  ? 

Then  the  old  couple,  slaughtered  with  the  wife 

By  the  husband  as  accomplices  in  crime. 


10  THE   RING   AND   THE  BOOK 

Those  Comparini,  Pietro  and  his  spouse,  — 

What  say  you  to  the  right  or  wrong  of  that, 

"When,  at  a  known  name  whispered  through  the  door 

Of  a  lone  villa  on  a  Christmas  night. 

It  opened  that  the  joyous  hearts  inside 

Might  welcome  as  it  were  an  angel-guest 

Come  in  Christ's  name  to  knock  and  enter,  sup 

And  satisfy  the  loving  ones  he  saved  ; 

And  so  did  welcome  devils  and  their  death  ? 

I  have  been  silent  on  that  circumstance 

Although  the  couple  passed  for  close  of  kin 

To  wife  and  husband,  were  by  some  accounts 

Pompiha's  very  parents  :  you  know  best. 

Also  that  infant  the  great  joy  was  for, 

That  Gaetano,  the  wife's  two-weeks'  babe. 

The  husband's  first-born  child,  his  son  and  heir. 

Whose  birth  and  being  turned  his  night  to  day  — 

Why  must  the  father  kill  the  mother  thus 

Because  she  bore  his  son  and  saved  himself  ? 

Well,  British  Public,  ye  who  like  me  not, 

(God  love  you  !)  and  will  have  your  proper  laugh 

At  the  dark  question,  laugh  it !     I  laugh  first. 

Truth  must  prevail,  the  proverb  vows  ;  and  truth 

—  Here  is  it  all  i'  the  book  at  last,  as  first 

There  it  was  all  i'  the  heads  and  hearts  of  Rome 

Gentle  and  simple,  never  to  fall  nor  fade 

Nor  be  forgotten.     Yet,  a  little  while. 

The  passage  of  a  century  or  so, 

Decads  thrice  five,  and  here  's  time  paid  his  tax, 

Oblivion  gone  home  with  her  harvesting. 

And  all  left  smooth  again  as  scjrthe  could  shave. 

Far  from  beginning  with  you  London  folk, 

I  took  my  book  to  Rome  first,  tried  truth's  power 

On  likely  people.     "  Have  you  met  such  names  ? 

Is  a  tradition  extant  of  such  facts  ? 

Your  law-courts  stand,  your  records  frown  a-row  : 

What  if  I  rove  and  rummage  ?  "     "  —  Why,  you  '11  waste 

Your  pains  and  end  as  wise  as  you  began  !  " 

Every  one  snickered  :  "  names  and  facts  thus  old 

Are  newer  much  than  Europe  news  we  find 

Down  in  to-day's  Diario.     Records,  quotha  ? 

Why,  the  French  burned  them,  what  else  do  the  French  ? 

The  rap-and-rending  nation  !     And  it  tells 

Against  the  Church,  no  doubt,  —  another  gird 

At  the  Temporality,  your  Trial,  of  course  ?  " 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK  11 

"  —  Quite  otherwise  this  time,"  suhmitted  I ; 

"  Clean  for  the  Church  and  dead  against  the  world, 
The  flesh  and  the  devil,  does  it  tell  for  once." 

"  —  The  rarer  and  the  happier  !     All  the  same. 
Content  you  with  your  treasure  of  a  book. 
And  waive  what 's  wanting  !     Take  a  friend's  advice ! 
It 's  not  the  custom  of  the  country.     Mend 
Your  ways  indeed  and  we  may  stretch  a  point  : 
Go  get  you  manned  by  Manning  and  new-manned 
By  Newman  and.  mayhap,  wise-manned  to  boot 
By  "Wiseman,  and  we  '11  see  or  else  we  won't ! 
Thanks  meantime  for  the  story,  long  and  strong, 
A  pretty  piece  of  narrative  enough, 
Which  scarce  ought  so  to  drop  out,  one  would  think, 
From  the  more  curious  annals  of  our  kind. 
Do  you  tell  the  story,  now,  in  ofE-hand  style. 
Straight  from  the  book  ?     Or  simply  here  and  there, 
(The  while  you  vault  it  through  the  loose  and  large) 
Hang  to  a  hint  ?     Or  is  there  book  at  all. 
And  don't  you  deal  in  poetry,  make-believe. 
And  the  white  lies  it  sounds  like  ?  " 

Yes  and  no ! 
From  the  book,  yes ;  thence  bit  by  bit  I  dug 
The  lingot  truth,  that  memorable  day. 
Assayed  and  knew  my  piecemeal  gain  was  gold,  — 
Yes  ;    but  from  something  else  surpassing  that. 
Something  of  mine  which,  mixed  up  with  the  mass, 
Made  it  bear  hammer  and  be  firm  to  file. 
Fancy  with  fact  is  just  one  fact  the  more  ; 
To  wit,  that  fancy  has  informed,  transpierced, 
Thridded  and  so  thrown  fast  the  facts  else  free. 
As  right  through  ring  and  ring  runs  the  djereed 
And  binds  the  loose,  one  bar  without  a  break. 
I  fused  my  live  soul  and  that  inert  stuff. 
Before  attempting  smithcraft,  on  the  night 
After  the  day  when  —  truth  thus  grasped  and  gained  — 
The  book  was  shut  and  done  with  and  laid  by 
On  the  cream-colored  massive  agate,  broad 
'Neath  the  twin  cherubs  in  the  tarnished  frame 
0'  the  mirror,  tall  thence  to  the  ceiling-top. 
And  from  the  reading,  and  that  slab  I  leant 
My  elbow  on,  the  while  I  read  and  read, 
I  turned,  to  free  myself  and  find  the  world. 
And  stepped  out  on  the  narrow  terrace,  built 
Over  the  street  and  opposite  the  church. 
And  paced  its  lozenge-brickwork  sprinkled  cool ; 


12  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOR. 

Because  Felice-ehurch-side  stretched,  aglow 

Through  each  square  window  fringed  for  festival, 

Whence  came  the  clear  voice  of  the  cloistered  ones 

Chanting  a  chant  made  for  midsummer  nights  — 

I  know  not  what  particular  praise  of  God, 

It  always  came  and  went  with  June.     Beneath 

I'  the  street,  quick  shown  by  openings  of  the  sky 

When  flame  fell  silently  from  cloud  to  cloud. 

Richer  than  that  gold  snow  Jove  rained  on  Rhodes, 

The  townsmen  walked  by  twos  and  threes,  and  talked, 

Drinking  the  blackness  in  default  of  air  — 

A  busy  human  sense  beneath  my  feet : 

While  in  and  out  the  terrace-plants,  and  round 

One  branch  of  tall  datura,  waxed  and  waned 

The  lamp-fly  lured  there,  wanting  the  white  flower. 

Over  the  roof  o'  the  lighted  church  I  looked 

A  bowshot  to  the  street's  end,  north  away 

Out  of  the  Roman  gate  to  the  Roman  road 

By  the  river,  till  I  felt  the  Apennine. 

And  there  would  lie  Arezzo,  the  man's  town. 

The  woman's  trap  and  cage  and  torture-place, 

Also  the  stage  where  the  priest  played  his  part, 

A  spectacle  for  angels,  —  ay,  indeed, 

There  lay  Arezzo !     Farther  then  I  fared. 

Feeling  my  way  on  through  the  hot  and  dense, 

Romeward,  until  I  found  the  wayside  inn 

By  Castelnuovo's  few  mean  hut-like  homes 

Huddled  together  on  the  hill-foot  bleak, 

Bare,  broken  only  by  that  tree  or  two 

Against  the  sudden  bloody  splendor  poured 

Cursewise  in  day's  departure  by  the  sun 

O'er  the  low  house-roof  of  that  squalid  inn 

Where  they  three,  for  the  first  time  and  the  last, 

Husband  and  wife  and  priest,  met  face  to  face. 

Whence  I  went  on  again,  the  end  was  near, 

Step  by  step,  missing  none  and  marking  aU, 

Till  Rome  itself,  the  ghastly  goal,  I  reached. 

Why,  all  the  while,  —  how  could  it  otherwise  ?  — 

The  life  in  me  abolished  the  death  of  things, 

Deep  calling  unto  deep  :  as  then  and  there 

Acted  itself  over  again  once  more 

The  tragic  piece.     I  saw  with  my  own  eyes 

In  Florence  as  I  trod  the  terrace,  breathed 

The  beauty  and  the  tearfulness  of  night, 

How  it  had  run,  this  round  from  Rome  to  Rome  — 

Because,  you  are  to  know,  they  lived  at  Rome, 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK  13 

Pompilia's  parents,  as  they  thought  themselves, 

Two  poor  ignoble  hearts  who  did  their  best 

Part  God's  way,  part  the  other  way  than  God's, 

To  somehow  make  a  shift  and  scramble  through 

The  world's  mud,  careless  if  it  splashed  and  spoiled, 

Provided  they  might  so  hold  high,  keep  clean 

Their  child's  soul,  one  soul  white  enough  for  three. 

And  lift  it  to  whatever  star  should  stoop, 

"What  possible  sphere  of  purer  life  than  theirs 

Should  come  in  aid  of  whiteness  hard  to  save. 

I  saw  the  star  stoop,  that  they  strained  to  touch. 

And  did  touch  and  depose  their  treasure  on, 

As  Guido  Franceschini  took  away 

Pompilia  to  be  his  forevermore, 

While  they  sang  "  Now  let  us  depart  in  peace, 

Having  beheld  thy  glory,  Guido's  wife !  " 

I  saw  the  star  supposed,  but  fog  o'  the  fen. 

Gilded  star-fashion  by  a  glint  from  heU ; 

Having  been  heaved  up,  haled  on  its  gross  way, 

By  hands  unguessed  before,  invisible  help 

From  a  dark  brotherhood,  and  specially 

Two  obscure  goblin  creatures,  fox-faced  this. 

Cat-clawed  the  other,  called  his  next  of  kin 

By  Guido  the  main  monster,  —  cloaked  and  caped. 

Making  as  they  were  priests,  to  mock  God  more,  — 

Abate  Paul,  Canon  Girolamo. 

These  who  had  rolled  the  starlike  pest  to  Eome 

And  stationed  it  to  suck  up  and  absorb 

The  sweetness  of  Pompilia,  rolled  again 

That  bloated  bubble,  with  her  soul  inside, 

Back  to  Arezzo  and  a  palace  there  — 

Or  say,  a  fissure  in  the  honest  earth 

Whence  long  ago  had  curled  the  vapor  first. 

Blown  big  by  nether  fires  to  appall  day : 

It  touched  home,  broke,  and  blasted  far  and  wide. 

I  saw  the  cheated  couple  find  the  cheat 

And  guess  what  foul  rite  they  were  captured  for,  — 

Too  fain  to  follow  over  hill  and  dale 

That  child  of  theirs  caught  up  thus  in  the  cloud 

And  carried  by  the  Prince  o'  the  Power  of  the  Air 

Whither  he  would,  to  wilderness  or  sea. 

I  saw  them,  in  the  potency  of  fear. 

Break  somehow  through  the  satyr-family 

(For  a  gray  mother  with  a  monkey-mien, 

Mopping  and  mowing,  was  apparent  too. 

As,  confident  of  capture,  all  took  bands 


14  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  danced  about  the  captives  in  a  ring) 

—  Saw  them  break  through,  breathe  safe,  at  Rome  again, 
Saved  by  the  selfish  instinct,  losing  so 

Their  loved  one  left  with  haters.     These  I  saw, 

In  recrudescency  of  baffled  hate. 

Prepare  to  wring  the  uttermost  revenge 

From  body  and  soul  thus  left  them  :  all  was  sure. 

Fire  laid  and  caldron  set,  the  obscene  ring  traced, 

The  victim  stripped  and  prostrate  :  what  of  God  ? 

The  cleaving  of  a  cloud,  a  cry,  a  crash. 

Quenched  lay  their  caldron,  cowered  i'  the  dust  the  crew, 

As,  in  a  glory  of  armor  like  Saint  George, 

Out  again  sprang  the  young  good  beauteous  priest 

Bearing  away  the  lady  in  his  arms. 

Saved  for  a  splendid  minute  and  no  more. 

For,  whom  i'  the  path  did  that  priest  come  upon. 

He  and  the  poor  lost  lady  borne  so  brave, 

—  Checking  the  song  of  praise  in  me,  had  else 
Swelled  to  the  full  for  God's  will  done  on  earth  — 
Whom  but  a  dusk  misfeatured  messenger. 

No  other  than  the  angel  of  this  life, 

Whose  care  is  lest  men  see  too  much  at  once. 

He  made  the  sign,  such  God-glimpse  must  suffice, 

Nor  prejudice  the  Prince  o'  the  Power  of  the  Air, 

Whose  ministra,tion  piles  us  overhead 

What  we  call,  first,  earth's  roof  and,  last,  heaven's  floor. 

Now  grate  o'  the  trap,  then  outlet  of  the  cage  : 

So  took  the  lady,  left  the  priest  alone. 

And  once  more  canopied  the  world  with  black. 

But  through  the  blackness  I  saw  Rome  again, 

And  where  a  solitary  vUla  stood 

In  a  lone  garden-quarter :  it  was  eve. 

The  second  of  the  year,  and  oh  so  cold ! 

Ever  and  anon  there  flittered  through  the  air 

A  snow-flake,  and  a  scanty  couch  of  snow 

Crusted  the  grass-walk  and  the  garden-mould. 

All  was  grave,  silent,  sinister,  —  when,  ha  ? 

Glimmeringly  did  a  pack  of  were-wolves  pad 

The  snow,  those  flames  were  Guide's  eyes  in  front. 

And  all  five  found  and  footed  it,  the  track, 

To  where  a  threshold-streak  of  warmth  and  light 

Betrayed  the  viUa-door  with  life  inside. 

While  an  inch  outside  were  those  blood-bright  eyes. 

And  black  lips  wrinkling  o'er  the  flash  of  teeth. 

And  tongues  that  lolled  —  O  God  that  madest  man  ! 

They  parleyed  in  their  language.     Then  one  whined  — 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK  15 

That  was  the  policy  and  master-stroke  — 

Deep  in  his  throat  whispered  what  seemed  a  name  — 

"  Open  to  Caponsacchi  !  "  Guido  cried  : 

"  Gabriel !  "  cried  Lucifer  at  Eden-gate. 
Wide  as  a  heart,  opened  tbe  door  at  once, 
Showing  the  joyous  couple,  and  their  child 
The  two-weeks'  mother,  to  the  wolves,  the  wolves 
To  them.     Close  eyes  !     And  when  the  corpses  lay 
Stark-stretched,  and  those  the  wolves,  their  wolf-work  done. 
Were  safe-embosomed  by  the  night  again, 
I  knew  a  necessary  change  in  things  ; 
As  when  the  worst  watch  of  the  night  gives  way, 
And  there  comes  duly,  to  take  cognizance. 
The  scrutinizing  eye-point  of  some  star  — 
And  who  despairs  of  a  new  daybreak  now  ? 
Lo,  the  first  ray  protruded  on  those  five  ! 
It  reached  them,  and  each  felon  writhed  transfixed. 
Awhile  they  palpitated  on  the  spear 
Motionless  over  Tophet :  stand  or  fall  ? 

"  I  say,  the  spear  should  fall  —  should  stand,  I  say  !  " 
Cried  the  world  come  to  judgment,  granting  grace 
Or  dealing  doom  according  to  world's  wont. 
Those  world's-bystanders  grouped  on  Rome's  cross-road 
At  prick  and  summons  of  the  primal  curse 
Which  bids  man  love  as  weU  as  make  a  lie. 
There  prattled  they,  discoursed  the  right  and  wrong, 
Turned  wrong  to  right,  proved  wolves  sheep  and  sheep  wolves, 
So  that  you  scarce  distinguished  feU  from  fleece ; 
Till  out  spoke  a  great  guardian  of  the  fold. 
Stood  up,  put  forth  his  hand  that  held  the  crook. 
And  motioned  that  the  arrested  point  decline  : 
Horribly  off,  the  wriggling  dead-weight  reeled, 
Rushed  to  the  bottom  and  lay  ruined  there. 
Though  still  at  the  pit's  mouth,  despite  the  smoke 
O'  the  burning,  tarriers  turned  again  to  talk 
And  trim  the  balance,  and  detect  at  least 
A  touch  of  wolf  in  what  showed  whitest  sheep, 
A  cross  of  sheep  redeeming  the  whole  wolf,  — 
Vex  truth  a  little  longer  :  —  less  and  less. 
Because  years  came  and  went,  and  more  and  more 
Brought  new  lies  with  them  to  be  loved  in  turn. 
Till  all  at  once  the  memory  of  the  thing,  — 

,  The  fact  that,  wolves  or  sheep,  such  creatures  were,  — 
Which  hitherto,  however  men  supposed. 
Had  somehow  plain  and  pillar-like  prevailed 
I'  the  midst  of  them,  indisputably  fact, 


16  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Granite,  time's  tooth  should  grate  against,  not  graze,  — 

Why,  this  proved  sandstone,  friable,  fast  to  fly 

And  give  its  grain  away  at  wish  o'  the  wind. 

Ever  and  ever  more  diminutive. 

Base  gone,  shaft  lost,  only  entablature, 

Dwindled  into  no  bigger  than  a  book, 

Lay  of  the  column ;  and  that  little,  left 

By  the  roadside  'mid  "the  ordure,  shards  and  weeds. 

Until  I  haply,  wandering  that  lone  way, 

Kicked  it  up,  turned  it  over,  and  recognized, 

For  all  the  crumblement,  this  abacus, 

This  square  old  yellow  book,  —  could  calculate 

By  this  the  lost  proportions  of  the  style. 

This  was  it  from,  my  fancy  with  those  facts, 

I  used  to  teU  the  tale,  turned  gay  to  grave, 

But  lacked  a  listener  seldom ;  such  alloy, 

Such  substance  of  me  interfused  the  gold 

Which,  wrought  into  a  shapely  ring  therewith, 

Hammered  and  filed,  fingered  and  fS.vored,  last 

Lay  ready  for  the  renovating  wash 

O'  the  water.     "  How  much  of  the  tale  was  true  ?  " 

I  disappeared  ;  the  book  grew  all  in  all ; 

The  lawyers'  pleadings  swelled  back  to  their  size,  — 

Doubled  in  two,  the  crease  upon  them  yet. 

For  more  commodity  of  carriage,  see !  — 

And  these  are  letters,  veritable  sheets 

That  brought  post-haste  the  news  to  Florence,  writ 

At  Rome  the  day  Count  Guido  died,  we  find, 

To  stay  the  craving  of  a  cUent  there. 

Who  bound  the  same  and  so  produced  my  book. 

Lovers  of  dead  truth,  did  ye  fare  the  worse  ? 

Lovers  of  live  truth,  found  ye  false  my  tale  ? 

Well,  now  ;  there  's  nothing  in  nor  out  o'  the  world 

Good  except  truth  :  yet  this,  the  something  else. 

What 's  this  then,  which  proves  good  yet  seems  untrue  ? 

This  that  I  mixed  with  truth,  motions  of  mine 

That  quickened,  made  the  inertness  malleolable 

O'  the  gold  was  not  mine,  — what's  your  name  for  this? 

Are  means  to  the  end,  themselves  in  part  the  end  ? 

Is  fiction  which  makes  fact  alive,  fact  too  ? 

The  somehow  may  be  thishow. 

I  find  first 
Writ  down  for  very  A  B  C  of  fact, 
"  In  the  beginning  God  made  heaven  and  earth ;  " 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK  17 

From  which,  no  matter  with  what  lisp,  I  spell 
And  speak  you  out  a  consequence  —  that  man, 
Man,  —  as  befits  the  made,  the  inferior  thing,  — 
Purposed,  since  made,  to  grow,  not  make  in  turn. 
Yet  forced  to  try  and  make,  else  fail  to  grow,  — 
Formed  to  rise,  reach  at,  if  not  grasp  and  gain 
The  good  beyond  him,  —  which  attempt  is  growth,  — 
Repeats  God's  process  in  man's  due  degree. 
Attaining  man's  proportionate  result,  — 
Creates,  no,  but  resuscitates,  perhaps. 
Inalienable,  the  arch-prerogative 
Which  turns  thought,  act  —  conceives,  expresses  too ! 
No  less,  man,  bounded,  yearning  to  be  free, 
May  so  project  his  surplusage  of  soul 
In  search  of  body,  so  add  self  to  self 
By  owning  what  lay  ownerless  before,  — 
So  find,  so  fill  full,  so  appropriate  forms  — 
That,  although  nothing  which  had  never  life 
Shall  get  life  from  him,  be,  not  having  been, 
Yet,  something  dead  may  get  to  live  again. 
Something  with  too  much  life  or  not  enough, 
Which,  either  way  imperfect,  ended  once  : 
An  end  whereat  man's  impulse  intervenes. 
Makes  new  beginning,  starts  the  dead  alive. 
Completes  thfe  incomplete  and  saves  the  thing. 
Man's  breath  were  vain  to  light  a  virgin  wick,  — 
Half-burned-out,  all  but  quite-quenched  wicks  o'  the  lamp 
Stationed  for  temple-service  on  this  earth. 
These  indeed  let  him  breathe  on  and  relume ! 
For  such  man's  feat  is,  in  the  due  degree, 
—  Mimic  creation,  galvanism  for  life. 
But  still  a  glory  portioned  in  the  scale. 
Why  did  the  mage  say  —  feeling  as  we  are  wont 
For  truth,  and  stopping  midway  short  of  truth, 
And  resting  on  a  lie  —  "I  raise  a  ghost  "  ? 
"  Because,"  he  taught  adepts,  "  man  makes  not  man. 
Yet  by  a  special  gift,  an  art  of  arts, 
More  insight  and  more  outsight  and  much  more 
Will  to  use  both  of  these  than  boast  my  mates, 
I  can  detach  from  me,  commission  forth 
Half  of  my  soul ;  which  in  its  pilgrimage 
O'er  old  unwandered  waste  ways  of  the  world, 
May  chance  upon  some  fragment  of  a  whole, 
Rag  of  flesh,  scrap  of  bone  in  dim  disuse. 
Smoking  flax  that  fed  fire  once  :  prompt  therein 
I  enter,  spark-like,  put  old  powers  to  play, 


18  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Push  lines  out  to  the  limit,  lead  forth  last 

(By  a  moonrise  through  a  ruin  of  a  crypt) 

What  shall  be  mistily  seen,  murmuringly  heard, 

Mistakenly  felt :  then  write  my  name  with  Faust's  !  " 

Oh,  Faust,  why  Faust  ?     Was  not  Elisha  once  ?  — 

Who  bade  them  lay  his  staflE  on  a  corpse-face. 

There  was  no  voice,  no  hearing  :  he  went  in 

Therefore,  and  shut  the  door  upon  them  twain, 

And  prayed  unto  the  Lord  :  and  he  went  up 

And  lay  upon  the  corpse,  dead  on  the  couch, 

And  put  his  mouth  upon  its  mouth,  his  eyes 

Upon  its  eyes,  his  hands  upon  its  hands. 

And  stretched  him  on  the  flesh ;  the  flesh  waxed  warm : 

And  he  returned,  walked  to  and  fro  the  house. 

And  went  up,  stretched  him  on  the  flesh  again, 

And  the  eyes  opened.     'T  is  a  credible  feat 

With  the  right  man  and  way. 

Enough  of  me  ! 
The  Book  !  T  turn  its  medicinable  leaves 
In  London  now  till,  as  in  Florence  erst, 
A  spirit  laughs  and  leaps  through  every  limb, 
And  lights  my  eye,  and  lifts  me  by  the  hair, 
Letting  me  have  my  wiU  again  with  these 
—  How  title  I  the  dead  alive  once  more  ?* 

Count  Gruido  Franceschini  the  Aretine, 
Descended  of  an  ancient  house,  though  poor, 
A  beak-nosed  bushy-bearded  black-haired  lord, 
Lean,  pallid,  low  of  stature  yet  robust. 
Fifty  years  old,  —  having  f onr  years  ago 
Married  Pompilia  Comparini,  young. 
Good,  beautiful,  at  Rome,  where  she  was  bom. 
And  brought  her  to  Arezzo,  where  they  lived 
Unhappy  lives,  whatever  curse  the  cause,  — 
This  husband,  taking  four  accomplices. 
Followed  this  wife  to  Rome,  where  she  was  fled 
From  their  Arezzo  to  find  peace  again, 
In  convoy,  eight  months  earlier,  of  a  priest, 
Aretine  also,  of  stiU  nobler  birth, 
Giuseppe  paponsacchi,  —  caught  her  there 
Quiet  in  a  villa  on  a  Christmas  night. 
With  only  Pietro  and  Violante  by, 
Both  her  putative  parents ;  killed  the  three. 
Aged,  they,  seventy  each,  and  she,  seventeen. 
And,  two  weeks  since,  the  mother  of  his  babe 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK  19 

First-born  and  heir  to  what  the  style  was  worth 
0'  the  Guido  who  determined,  dared  and  did 
This  deed  just  as  he  purposed  point  by  point. 
Then,  bent  upon  escape,  but  hotly  pressed, 
And  captured  with  his  co-mates  that  same  night, 
He,  brought  to  trial,  stood  on  this  defence  — 
Injury  to  his  honor  caused  the  act ; 
And  since  his  wife  was  false,  (as  manifest 
By  flight  from  home  in  such  companionship,) 
Death,  punishment  deserved  of  the  false  wife 
And  faithless  parents  who  abetted  her 
I'  the  flight  aforesaid,  wronged  nor  God  nor  man. 
■'  Nor  false  she,  nor  yet  faithless  they,"  replied 
The  accuser  ;  "  cloaked  and  masked  this  murder  glooms; 
True  was  Pompilia,  loyal  too  the  pair  ; 
Out  of  the  man's  own  heart  a  monster  curled. 
Which  —  crime  coiled  with  connivancy  at  crime  — 
His  victim's  breast,  he  tells  you,  hatched  and  reared ; 
Uncoil  we  and  stretch  stark  the  worm  of  hell !  " 
A  month  the  trial  swayed  this  way  and  that 
Ere  judgment  settled  down  on  Guido's  guilt ; 
Then  was  the  Pope,  that  good  Twelfth  Innocent, 
Appealed  to :  who  well  weighed  what  went  before, 
Affirmed  the  guilt  and  gave  the  guilty  doom. 

Let  this  old  woe  step  on  the  stage  again ! 
Act  itself  o'er  anew  for  men  to  judge. 
Not  by  the  very  sense  amd  sight  indeed  — 
(Which  take  at  best  imperfect  cognizance. 
Since,  how  heart  moves  brain,  and  how  both  move  hand, 
What  mortal  ever  in  entirety  saw  ?) 
—  No  dose  of  purer  truth  than  man  digests. 
But  truth  with  falsehood,  milk  that  feeds  him  now, 
Not  strong  meat  he  may  get  to  bear  some  day  — 
To  wit,  by  voices  we  call  evidence, 
Uproar  in  the  echo,  live  fact  deadened  down, 
Talked  over,  bruited  abroad,  whispered  away, 
-  Yet  helping  us  to  all  we  seem  to  hear  : 
For  how  else  know  we  save  by  worth  of  word  ? 

Here  are  the  voices  presently  shall  sound 

In  due  succession.     First,  the  world's  outcry 

Around  the  rush  and  ripple  of  any  fact 

Fallen  stonewise,  plumb  on  the  smooth  face  of  things ; 

The  world's  guess,  as  it  crowds  the  bank  o[  the  pool. 

At  what  were  figure  and  substance,  by  their  splash : 


20        THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Then,  by  vibrations  in  the  general  mind. 

At  depth  of  deed  already  out  of  reach. 

This  threefold  murder  of  the  day  before,  — 

Say,  Half-Rome  's  feel  after  the  vanished  truth ; 

Honest  enough,  as  the  way  is  :  all  the  same. 

Harboring  in  the  centre  of  its  sense 

A  hidden  germ  of  failure,  shy  but  sure. 

To  neutralize  that  honesty  and  leave 

That  feel  for  truth  at  fault,  as  the  way  is  too. 

Some  prepossession  such  as  starts  amiss, 

By  but  a  hair's  breadth  at  the  shoulder-blade, 

The  arm  o'  the  feeler,  dip  he  ne'er  so  bold ; 

So  leads  arm  waveringly,  lets  fall  wide 

O'  the  mark  its  finger,  sent  to  find  and  fix 

Truth  at  the  bottom,  that  deceptive  speck. 

With  this  Half-Rome,  —  the  source  of  swerving,  call 

Over-belief  in  Guide's  right  and  wrong 

Rather  than  in  Pompilia's  wrong  and  right  : 

Who  shall  say  how,  who  shall  say  why  ?     'Tis  there  - 

The  instinctive  theorizing  whence  a  fact 

Looks  to  the  eye  as  the  eye  likes  the  look. 

Gossip  in  a  public  place,  a  sample-speech. 

Some  worthy,  with  his  previous  hint  to  find 

A  husband's  side  the  safer,  and  no  whit 

Aware  he  is  not  ^acus  the  while,  — 

How  such  an  one  supposes  and  states  fact 

To  whosoever  of  a  multitude 

Will  listen,  and  perhaps  prolong  thereby 

The  not-unpleasant  flutter  at  the  breast. 

Born  of  a  certain  spectacle  shut  in 

By  the  church  Lorenzo  opposite.     So,  they  lounge 

Midway  the  mouth  o'  the  street,  on  Corso  side, 

'Twixt  palace  Fiano  and  palace  Ruspoli, 

Linger  and  listen ;  keeping  clear  o'  the  crowd. 

Yet  wishful  one  could  lend  that  crowd  one's  eyes, 

(So  universal  is  its  plague  of  squint) 

And  make  hearts  beat  our  time  that  flutter  false  : 

—  All  for  the  truth's  sake,  mere  truth,  nothing  else  ! 

How  Half-Rome  found  for  Guido  much  excuse. 

Next,  from  Rome's  other  half,  the  opposite  feel 

For  truth  with  a  like  swerve,  like  unsuccess,  — 

Or  if  success,  by  no  skill  but  more  luck. 

This  time,  through  siding  rather  with  the  wife 

Because  a  fancy-fit  inclined  that  way, 

Than  with  the  husband.     One  wears  drab,  one  pink  ; 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK  21 

Who  wears  pink,  ask  him  "  Which  shall  win  the  race, 
Of  coupled  runners  like  as  egg  and  egg  ?  " 
'  —  Why,  if  I  must  choose,  he  with  the  pink  scarf." 
Doubtless  for  some  such  reason  choice  fell  here. 
A  piece  of  public  talk  to  correspond 
At  the  next  stage  of  the  story ;  just  a  day 
Let  pass  and  new  day  brings  the  proper  change. 
Another  sample-speech  i'  the  market-place 
O'  the  Barberini  by  the  Capucins  ; 
Where  the  old  Triton,  at  his  fountain-sport, 
Bernini's  creature  plated  to  the  paps, 
PufBs  up  steel  sleet  which  breaks  to  diamond  dust, 
A  spray  of  sparkles  snorted  from  his  conch, 
High  over  the  cariteUas,  out  o'  the  way 
O'  the  motley  merchandizing  multitude. 
Our  murder  has  been  done  three  days  ago, 
The  frost  is  over  and  gone,  the  south  wind  laughs, 
And,  to  the  very  tiles  of  each  red  roof 
A-smoke  i'  the  sunshine,  Rome  lies  gold  and  glad  : 
So,  listen  how,  to  the  other  half  of  Rome, 
Pompilia  seemsd  a  saint  and  martyr  both  ! 

Then,  yet  another  day  let  come  and  go, 

With  pause  prelusive  still  of  novelty. 

Hear  a  fresh  speaker  !  —  neither  this  nor  that 

Half-Rome  aforesaid ;  something  bred  of  both : 

One  and  one  breed  the  inevitable  three. 

Such  is  the  personage  harangues  you  next ; 

The  elaborated  product,  tertium  quid : 

Rome's  first  commotion  in  subsidence  gives 

The  curd  o'  the  cream,  flower  o'  the  wheat,  as  it  were. 

And  finer  sense  o'  the  city.     Is  this  plain  ? 

You  get  a  reasoned  statement  of  the  case, 

Eventual  verdict  of  the  curious  few 

Who  care  to  sift  a  business  to  the  bran 

Nor  coarsely  bolt  it  like  the  simpler  sort. 

Here,  after  ignorance,  instruction  speaks ; 

Here,  clarity  of  candor,  history's  soul. 

The  critical  mind,  in  short :  no  gossip-guess. 

What  the  superior  social  section  thinks. 

In  person  of  some  man  of  quality 

"VVtio  —  breathing  musk  from  lace-work  and  brocade, 

His  solitaire  amid  the  flow  of  frill, 

Powdered  peruke  on  nose,  and  bag  at  back. 

And  cane  dependent  from  the  ruffled  wrist  — 

Harangues  in  silvery  and  selectest  phrase 


22         THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

'Neath  waxlight  in  a  glorified  saloon 
Where  mirrors  multiply  the  girandole : 
Courting  the  approbation  of  no  mob, 
But  Eminence  This  and  All-Illustrious  That 
Who  take  snuff  softly,  range  in  well-bred  ring, 
Card-table-quitters  for  observance'  sake. 
Around  the  argument,  the  rational  word  — 
StiU,  spite  its  weight  and  worth,  a  sample-speech. 
How  Quality  dissertated  on  the  case. 

So  much  for  Rome  and  rumor ;  smoke  comes  first : 
Once  let  smoke  rise  untroubled,  we  descry 
Clearlier  what  tongues  of  flame  may  spire  and  spit 
To  eye  and  ear,  each  with  appropriate  tinge 
According  to  its  food,  or  pure  or  foul. 
The  actors,  no  mere  rumors  of  the  act. 
Intervene.     First  you  hear  Count  Guido's  voice, 
In  a  small  chamber  that  adjoins  the  court, 
Where  Governor  and  Judges,  summoned  thence, 
Tommati,  Venturini  and  the  rest. 
Find  the  accused  ripe  for  declaring  truth. 
Soft-eushioned  sits  he ;  yet  shifts  seat,  shirks  touch. 
As,  with  a  twitchy  brow  and  wincing  lip 
And  cheek  that  changes  to  all  kinds  of  white, 
He  proffers  his  defence,  in  tones  subdued 
Near  to  mock-mildness  now,  so  mournful  seems 
The  obtuser  sense  truth  fails  to  satisfy  ; 
Now,  moved,  from  pathos  at  the  wrong  endured. 
To  passion  ;  for  the  natural  man  is  roused 
At  fools  who  first  do  wrong,  then  pour  the  blame 
Of  their  wrong-doing,  Satan-like,  on  Job. 
Also  his  tongue  at  times  is  hard  to  curb ; 
Incisive,  nigh  satiric  bites  the  phrase, 
Rough-raw,  yet  somehow  claiming  privilege 

—  It  is  so  hard  for  shrewdness  to  admit 

Folly  means  no  harm  when  she  calls  black  white  ! 

—  Eruption  momentary  at  the  most. 
Modified  forthwith  by  a  fall  o'  the  fire. 

Sage  acquiescence  ;  for  the  world  's  the  world, 
And,  what  it  errs  in.  Judges  rectify  : 
He  feels  he  has  a  fist,  then  folds  his  arms 
Crosswise  and  makes  his  mind  up  to  be  meek. 
And  never  once  does  he  detach  his  eye 
From  those  ranged  there  to  slay  him  or  to  save. 
But  does  his  best  man's-service  for  himself. 
Despite,  —  what  twitches  brow  and  makes  lip  wince. 


THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK  23 

His  limbs'  late  taste  of  what  was  called  the  Cord, 
Or  Vigil-torture  more  facetiously. 
Even  so ;  they  were  wont  to  tease  the  truth 
Out  of  loath  witness  (toying,  trifling  time) 
By  torture  :  't  was  a  trick,  a  vice  of  the  age, 
Here,  there  and  everywhere,  what  would  you  have  ? 
Religion  used  to  tell  Humanity 
She  gave  him  warrant  or  denied  him  course. 
And  since  the  course  was  much  to  his  own  mind, 
Of  pinching  flesh  and  pulling  bone  from  bone 
To  unhusk  truth  a-hiding  in  its  huUs, 
Nor  whisper  of  a  warning  stopped  the  way, 
He,  in  their  joint  behalf,  the  burly  slave. 
Bestirred  him,  mauled  and  maimed  all  recusants. 
While,  prim  in  place,  Religion  overlooked ; 
And  so  had  done  till  doomsday,  never  a  sign 
Nor  sound  of  interference  from  her  mouth, 
But  that  at  last  the  burly  slave  wiped  brow, 
Let  eye  give  notice  as  if  soul  were  there, 
Muttered  "  'T  is  a  vile  trick,  foolish  more  than  vile, 
Should  have  been  counted  sin  ;  I  make  it  so : 
At  any  rate  no  more  of  it  for  me  — 
Nay,  for  I  break  the  torture-engine  thus  !  " 
Then  did  Religion  start  up,  stare  amain, 
Look  round  for  help  and  see  none,  smile  and  say 
"  What,  broken  is  the  rack  ?     Well  done  of  thee  ! 
Did  I  forget  to  abrogate  its  use  ? 
Be  the  mistake  in  common  with  us  both ! 
—  One  more  fault  our  blind  age  shall  answer  for, 
Down  in  my  book  denounced  though  it  must  be 
Somewhere.     Henceforth  find  truth  by  milder  means!" 
Ah  but,  Religion,  did  we  wait  for  thee 
To  ope  the  look,  that  serves  to  sit  upon, 
And  pick  such  place  out,  we  should  wait  indeed ! 
That  is  all  history :  and  what  is  not  now. 
Was  then,  defendants  found  it  to  their  cost. 
How  Guido,  after  being  tortured,  spoke. 

Also  hear  Caponsacchi  who  comes  next, 

Man  and  priest  —  could  you  comprehend  the  coil !  —   , 

In  days  when  that  was  rife  which  now  is  rare. 

How,  mingling  each  its  multifarious  wires. 

Now  heaven,  now  earth,  now  heaven  and  earth  at  once, 

Had  plucked  at  and  perplexed  their  puppet  here. 

Played  off  the  young  frank  personable  priest ; 

Sworn  fast  and  tonsured  plain  heaven's  celibate, 


24         THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  yet  earth's  clear-accepted  servitor, 

A  courtly  spiritual  Cupid,  squire  of  dames 

By  law  of  love  and  mandate  of  the  mode. 

The  Church's  own,  or  why  parade  her  seal, 

Wherefore  that  chrism  and  consecrative  work  ? 

Yet  verily  the  world's,  or  why  go  hadged 

A  prince  of  sonneteers  and  lutanists, 

Show  color  of  each  vanity  in  vogue 

Borne  with  decorum  due  on  blameless  breast  ? 

All  that  is  changed  now,  as  he  tells  the  court 

How  he  had  played  the  part  excepted  at ; 

Tells  it,  moreover,  now  the  second  time  : 

Since,  for  his  cause  of  scandal,  his  own  share 

I'  the  flight  from  home  and  husband  of  the  wife. 

He  has  been  censured,  punished  in  a  sort 

By  relegation,  —  exile,  we  should  say, 

To  a  short  distance  for  a  little  time,  —  _ 

Whence  he  is  summoned  on  a  sudden  now. 

Informed  that  she,  he  thought  to  save,  is  lost, 

And,  in  a  breath,  bidden  re-tell  his  tale. 

Since  the  first  telling  somehow  missed  effect, 

And  then  advise  in  the  matter.     There  stands  he. 

While  the  same  grim  black-panelled  chamber  blinks 

As  though  rubbed  shiny  with  the  sins  of  Rome 

Told  the  same  oak  for  ages  —  wave-washed  wall 

Against  which  sets  a  sea  of  wickedness. 

There,  where  you  yesterday  heard  Guido  speak, 

Speaks  Caponsacchi  ;  and  there  face  him  too 

Tommati,  Venturini  and  the  rest 

Who,  eight  months  earlier,  scarce  repressed  the  smile. 

Forewent  the  wink ;  waived  recognition  so 

Of  peccadillos  incident  to  youth, 

Especially  youth  high-born ;  for  youth  mek.ns  love, 

Vows  can't  change  nature,  priests  are  only  men. 

And  love  likes  stratagem  and  subterfuge : 

Which  age,  that  once  was  youth,  should  recognize. 

May  blame,  but  needs  not  press  too  hard  upon. 

Here  sit  the  old  Judges  then,  but  with  no  grace 

Of  reverend  carriage,  magisterial  port. 

For  why  ?     The  accused  of  eight  months  since,  —  the  same 

Who  cut  the  conscious  figure  of  a  fool. 

Changed  countenance,  dropped  bashful  gaze  to  ground, 

While  hesitating  for  an  answer  then,  — 

Now  is  grown  judge  himself,  terrifies  now 

This,  now  the  other  culprit  called  a  judge. 

Whose  turn  it  is  to  stammer  and  look  strange, 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK  25 

As  he  speaks  rapidly,  angrily,  speech  that  smites  : 

And  they  keep  silence,  bear  blow  after  blow, 

Because  the  seeming-solitary  man. 

Speaking  f^r  God,  may  have  an  audience  too, 

Invisible,  no  discreet  judge  provokes. 

How  the  priest  Caponsacchi  said  his  say. 

Then  a  soul  sighs  its  lowest  and  its  last 

After  the  loud  ones,  —  so  much  breath  remains 

Unused  by  the  four-days'-dying  ;  for  she  lived 

Thus  long,  miraculously  long,  't  was  thought, 

Just  that  Pompiha  might  defend  herself. 

How,  while  the  hireling  and  the  alien  stoop, 

Comfort,  yet  question,  —  since  the  time  is  brief, 

And  folk,  allowably  inquisitive. 

Encircle  the  low  pallet  where  she  lies 

In  the  good  house  that  helps  the  poor  to  die,  — 

Pompilia  tells  the  story  of  her  life. 

For  friend  and  lover,  —  leech  and  man  of  law 

Do  service  ;  busy  helpful  ministrants  • 

As  varied  in  their  calling  as  their  mind, 

Temper  and  age :  and  yet  from  all  of  these, 

About  the  white  bed  under  the  arched  roof, 

Is  somehow,  as  it  were,  evolved  a  one,  — 

Small  separate  sympathies  combined  and  large, 

Nothings  that  were,  grown  something  very  much; 

As  if  the  bystanders  gave  each  his  straw, 

All  he  had,  though  a  trifle  in  itself, 

Which,  plaited  all  together,  made  a  Cross 

Fit  to  die  looking  on  and  praying  with. 

Just  as  well  as  if  ivory  or  gold. 

So,  to  the  common  kindliness  she  speaks. 

There  being  scarce  more  privacy  at  the  last 

For  mind  than  body  :  but  she  is  used  to  bear, 

And  only  unused  to  the  brotherly  look. 

How  she  endeavored  to  explain  her  life. 

Then,  since  a  Trial  ensued,  a  touch  o'  the  same 
To  sober  us,  flustered  with  frothy  talk, 
And  teach  our  common  sense  its  helplessness. 
For  why  deal  simply  vrith  divining-rod. 
Scrape  where  we  fancy  secret  sources  flow, 
And  ignore  law,  the  recognized  machine, 
Elaborate  display  of  pipe  and  wheel 
Framed  to  unchoke,  pump  up  and  pour  apace 
Truth  till  a  flowery  foam  shall  wash  the  world  ? 


26         THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  patent  truth-extracting  process,  —  ha  ? 
Let  us  make  that  grave  mystery  turn  one  wheel. 
Give  you  a  single  grind  of  law  at  least ! 
One  orator,  of  two  on  either  side, 
Shall  teach  us  the  puissance  of  the  tongue 
—  That  is,  o'  the  pen  which  simulated  tongue 
On  paper  and  saved  all  except  the  sound 
Which  never  was.     Law's  speech  beside  law's  thought  ? 
That  were  too  stunning,  too  immense  an  odds  : 
That  point  of  vantage  law  lets  nobly  pass. 
One  lawyer  shall  admit  us  to  behold 
The  manner  of  the  making  out  a  case. 
First  fashion  of  a  speech ;  the  chick  in  egg. 
The  masterpiece  law's  bosom  incubates. 
How  Don  Giacinto  of  the  Arcangeli, 
Called  Procurator  of  the  Poor  at  Rome, 
Now  advocate  for  Guido  and  his  mates,  — 
The  jolly  learned  man  of  middle  age. 
Cheek  and  jowl  all  in  laps  with  fat  and  law, 
^Mirthful  as  mighty,  yet,  as  great  hearts  use. 
Despite  the  name  and  fame  that  tempt  our  flesh, 
Constant  to  that  devotion  of  the  hearth, 
Still  captive  in  those  dear  domestic  ties  !  — 
How  he,  — having  a  cause  to  triumph  with. 
All  kind  of  interests  to  keep  intact, 
More  than  one  efficacious  personage 
To  tranquillize,  conciliate  and  secure, 
And  above  all,  public  anxiety 
To  quiet,  show  its  Guido  in  good  hands,  — 
Also,  as  if  such  burdens  were  too  light, 
A  certain  family-feast  to  claim  his  care. 
The  birthday-banquet  for  the  only  son  — 
Paternity  at  smiling  strife  with  law  — 
How  he  brings  both  to  buckle  in  one  bond ; 
And,  thick  at  throat,  with  waterish  under-eye. 
Turns  to  his  task  and  settles  in  his  seat 
And  puts  his  utmost  means  in  practice  now  : 
Wheezes  out  law-phrase,  whiffles  Latin  forth. 
And,  just  as  though  roast  lamb  would  never  be, 
Makes  logic  levigate  the  big  crime  small : 
Rubs  palm  on  palm,  rakes  foot  with  itchy  foot, 
Conceives  and  inchoates  the  argument. 
Sprinkling  each  flower  appropriate  to  the  time, 
—  Ovidian  quip  or  Ciceronian  crank, 
A-bubble  in  the  larynx  while  he  laughs. 
As  he  had  fritters  deep  down  frying  there. 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK  27 

How  he  turns,  twists,  and  tries  the  oily  thing 

Shall  be  —  first  speech  for  Guido  'gainst  the  Fisc. 

Then  with  a  skip  as  it  were  from  heel  to  head. 

Leaving  yourselves  fill  up  the  middle  bulk 

O'  the  Trial,  reconstruct  its  shape  august. 

From  such  exordium  clap  we  to  the  close ; 

Give  you,  if  we  dare  wing  to  such  a  height. 

The  absolute  glory  in  some  full-grown  speech 

On  the  other  side,  some  finished  butterfly. 

Some  breathing  diamond-flake  with  leaf-gold  fans. 

That  takes  the  air,  no  trace  of  worm  it  was, 

Or  cabbage-bed  it  had  pi-oduction  from. 

Giovambattista  o'  the  Bottini,  Fisc, 

Pompilia's  patron  by  the  chance  of  the  hour, 

To-morrow  her  persecutor,  —  composite,  he, 

As  becomes  who  must  meet  such  various  calls  — 

Odds  of  age  joined  in  him  with  ends  of  youth. 
,  A  man  of  ready  smile  and  facile  tear, 

Improvised  hopes,  despairs  at  nod  and  beck, 

And  language  —  ah,  the  gift  of  eloquence  ! 

Language  that  goes,  goes,  easy  as  a  glove, 

O'er  good  and  evil,  smoothens  both  to  one. 

Rashness  helps  caution  with  him,  fires  the  straw, 

In  free  enthusiastic  careless  fit. 

On  the  first  proper  pinnacle  of  rock 

Which  ofEers,  as  reward  for  aU  that  zeal, 

To  lure  some  bark  to  founder  and  bring  gain  : 

While  calm  sits  Caution,  rapt  with  heavenward  ey«, 

A  true  confessor's  gaze,  amid  the  glare 

Beaconing  to  the  breaker,  death  and  heU. 
"  Well  done,  thou  good  and  faithful !  "  she  approves : 
"  Hadst  thou  let  slip  a  fagot  to  the  beach. 

The  crew  might  surely  spy  thy  precipice 

And  save  their  boat ;  the  simple  and  the  slow 

Might  so,  forsooth,  forestall  the  wrecker's  fee ! 

Let  the  next  crew  be  wise  and  hail  in  time  !  " 

Just  so  compounded  is  the  outside  man, 

Blue  juvenile  pure  eye  and  pippin  cheek. 

And  brow  all  prematurely  soiled  and  seamed 

With  sudden  age,  bright  devastated  hair. 

Ah,  but  you  miss  the  very  tones  o'  the  voice. 

The  scrannel  pipe  that  screams  in  heights  of  head, 

As,  in  his  modest  studio,  all  alone. 

The  tall  wight  stands  a-tiptoe,  strives  and  strains, 

Both  eyes  shut,  like  the  cockerel  that  would  crow, 

Tries  to  his  own  self  amorously  o'er 


28  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

What  never  will  be  uttered  else  than  so  — 

Since  to  the  four  walls,  Forum  and  Mars'  Hill, 

Speaks  out  the  poesy  which,  penned,  turns  prose. 

Clavecinist  debarred  his  instrument, 

He  yet  thrums  —  shirking  neither  turn  nor  trill, 

With  desperate  finger  on  dumb  table-edge  — 

The  sovereign  rondo,  shall  conclude  his  Suite, 

Charm  an  imaginary  audience  there, 

From  old  Corelli  to  young  Haendel,  both 

I'  the  flesh  at  Rome,  ere  he  perforce  go  print 

The  cold  black  score,  mere  music  for  the  mind  — 

The  last  speech  against  Guido  and  his  gang, 

With  special  end  to  prove  Pompilia  pure. 

How  the  Fisc  vindicates  Pompilia's  fame. 

Then  comes  the  all  but  end,  die  ultimate 

Judgment  save  yours.     Pope  Innocent  the  Twelfth, 

Simple,  sagacious,  mild  yet  resolute, 

With  prudence,  probity  and  —  what  beside 

From  the  other  world  he  feels  impress  at  times, 

Having  attained  to  fourscore  years  and  six,  — 

How,  when  the  court  found  Guido  and  the  rest 

Guilty,  but  law  supplied  a  subterfuge 

And  passed  the  final  sentence  to  the  Pope, 

He,  bringing  his  intelligence  to  bear 

This  last  time  on  what  ball  behoves  him  drop 

In  the  urn,  or  white  or  black,  does  drop  a  black. 

Send  five  souls  more  to  just  precede  his  own. 

Stand  him  in  stead  and  witness,  if  need  were, 

How  he  is  wont  to  do  God's  work  on  earth. 

The  manner  of  his  sitting  out  the  dim 

Droop  of  a  sombre  February  day 

In  the  plain  closet  where  he  does  such  work, 

With,  from  all  Peter's  treasury,  one  stool, 

One  table  and  one  lathen  crucifix. 

There  sits  the  Pope,  his  thoughts  for  company ; 

Grave  but  not  sad,  —  nay,  something  like  a  cheer 

Leaves  the  lips  free  to  be  benevolent, 

Which,  aU  day  long,  did  duty  firm  and  fast. 

A  cherishing  there  is  of  foot  and  knee, 

A  chafing  loose-skinned  large-veined  hand  with  hand,  — 

What  steward  but  knows  when  stewardship  earns  its  wag^ 

May  levy  praise,  anticipate  the  lord  ? 

He  reads,  notes,  lays  the  papers  down  at  last, 

Muses,  then  takes  a  turn  about  the  room  ; 

Unclasps  a  huge  tome  in  an  antique  guise. 

Primitive  print  and  tongue  half  obsolete, 


THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK  29 

That  stands  him  in  diurnal  stead ;  opes  page, 

Finds  place  where  falls  the  passage  to  be  conned 

According  to  an  order  long  in  use  : 

And,  as  he  comes  upon  the  evening's  chance, 

Starts  somewhat,  solemnizes  straight  his  smile, 

Then  reads  aloud  that  portion  first  to  last, 

And  at  the  end  lets  flow  his  own  thoughts  forth 

Likewise  aloud,  for  respite  and  relief, 

Till  by  the  dreary  relics  of  the  west 

"Wan  through  the  half-moon  window,  all  his  light. 

He  bows  the  head  while  the  lips  move  in  prayer. 

Writes  some  three  brief  lines,  signs  and  seals  the  same, 

Tinkles  a  hand-bell,  bids  the  obsequious  Sir 

Who  puts  foot  presently  o'  the  closet-sUl 

He  watched  outside  of,  bear  as  superscribed 

That  mandate  to  the  Governor  forthwith  : 

Then  heaves  abroad  his  cares  in  one  good  sigh. 

Traverses  corridor  with  no  arm's  help, 

And  so  to  sup  as  a  clear  conscience  should. 

The  manner  of  the  judgment  of  the  Pope. 

Then  must  speak  Guido  yet  a  second  time, 

Satan's  old  saw  being  apt  here  —  skin  for  skin. 

All  a  man  hath  that  will  he  give  for  life. 

While  life  was  graspable  and  gainable. 

And  bird-like  buzzed  her  wings  round  Guido's  brow, 

Not  much  truth  stiffened  out  the  web  of  words 

He  wove  to  catch  her :  when  away  she  flew 

And  death  came,  death's  breath  rivelled  up  the  lies, 

Left  bare  the  metal  thread,  the  fibre  fine 

Of  truth,  i'  the  spinning :  the  true  words  shone  last. 

How  Guido,  to  another  purpose  quite. 

Speaks  and  despairs,  the  last  night  of  his  life. 

In  that  New  Prison  by  Castle  Angelo 

At  the  bridge-foot :  the  same  man,  another  voice. 

On  a  stone  bench  in  a  close  fetid  cell, 

Where  the  hot  vapor  of  an  agony, 

Struck  into  drops  on  the  cold  wall,  runs  down  — 

Horrible  worms  made  out  of  sweat  and  tears  — 

There  crouch,  wellnigh  to  the  knees  in  dungeon-straw, 

Lit  by  the  sole  lamp  suffered  for  their  sake. 

Two  awe-struck  figures,  this  a  Cardinal, 

That  an  Abate,  both  of  old  styled  friends 

O'  the  thing  part  man  part  monster  in  the  midst. 

So  changed  is  Franceschini's  gentle  blood. 

The  tiger-cat  screams  now,  that  whined  before. 


30  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

That  pried  and  tried  and  trod  so  gingerly, 
Till  in  its  silkiness  the  trap-teeth  joined  ; 
Then  you  know  how  the  bristling  fury  foams. 
They  listen,  this  wrapped  in  his  folds  of  red. 
While  his  feet  fumble  for  the  filth  below  ; 
The  other,  as  beseems  a  stouter  heart, 
"Working  his  best  with  beads  and  cross  to  ban 
The  enemy  that  comes  in  like  a  flood 
Spite  of  the  standard  set  up,  verily 
And  in  no  trope  at  all,  against  him  there : 
For  at  the  prison-gate,  just  a  few  steps 
Outside,  already,  in  the  doubtful  dawn, 
Thither,  from  this  side  and  from  that,  slow  sweep 
And  settle  down  in  silence  solidly, 
Crow-wise,  the  frightful  Brotherhood  of  Death. 
Black-hatted  and  black-hooded  huddle  they. 
Black  rosaries  a-dangling  from  each  waist ; 
So  take  they  their  grim  station  at  the  door, 
Torches  lit,  skull-and-cross-bones-banner  spread, 
And  that  gigantic  Christ  with  open  arms. 
Grounded.     Nor  lacks  there  aught  but  that  the  group 
Break  forth,  intone  the  lamentable  psalm, 
"  Out  of  the  deeps.  Lord,  have  I  cried  to  thee  !  "  — 
When  inside,  from  the  true  profound,  a  sign 
Shall  bear  intelligence  that  the  foe  is  foiled, 
Count  Guido  Franceschini  has  confessed, 
And  is  absolved  and  reconciled  with  God. 
Then  they,  intoning,  may  beg^n  their  march, 
Make  by  the  longest  way  for  the  People's  Square 
Carry  the  criminal  to  his  crime's  award  : 
A  mob  to  cleave,  a  scaffolding  to  reach. 
Two  gallows  and  Mannaia  crosrning  all. 
How  Guido  made  defence  a  second  time. 

Finally,  even  as  thus  by  step  and  step 
I  led  you  from  the  level  of  to-day 
Up  to  the  summit  of  so  long  ago, 

Here,  whence  I  point  you  the  wide  prospect  round 

Let  me,  by  like  steps,  slope  you  back  to  smooth, 
Land  you  on  mother-earth,  no  whit  the  worse. 
To  feed  o'  the  fat  o'  the  furrow  :  free  to  dwell. 
Taste  our  time's  better  things  profusely  spread 
For  aU  who  love  the  level,  corn  and  wine, 
Much  cattle  and  the  many-folded  fleece. 
Shall  not  my  friends  go  feast  again  on  sward, 
Though  cognizant  of  country  in  the  clouds 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK  31 

Higher  than  wistful  eagle's  horny  eye 

Ever  unclosed  for,  'mid  ancestral  crags, 

"When  morning  broke  and  Spring  was  back  once  more, 

And  he  died,  heaven,  save  by  his  heart,  unreached  ? 

Yet  heaven  my  fancy  lifts  to,  ladder-like,  — 

As  Jack  reached,  holpen  of  his  beanstalk-rungs  ! 

A  novel  country  :  I  might  make  it  mine 

By  choosing  which  one  aspect  of  the  year 

Suited  mood  best,  and  putting  solely  that 

On  panel  somewhere  in  the  House  of  Fame, 

Landscaping  what  I  saved,  not  what  I  saw : 

—  Might  fix  you,  whether  frost  in  goblin-time 

Startled  the  moon  with  his  abrupt  bright  laugh, 

Or,  August's  hair  afloat  in  filmy  fire. 

She  fell,  arms  wide,  face  foremost  on  the  world, 

Swooned  there  and  so  singed  out  the  strength  of  things. 

Thus  were  abolished  Spring  and  Autumn  both. 

The  land  dwarfed  to  one  likeness  of  the  land. 

Life  cramped  corpse-fashion.     Rather  learn  and  love 

Each  facet-flash  of  the  revolving  year  !  — 

Eed,  green  and  blue  that  whirl  into  a  white. 

The  variance  now,  the  eventual  unity, 

Which  make  the  miracle.     See  it  for  yourselves, 

This  man's  act,  changeable  because  alive  ! 

Action  now  shrouds,  nor  shows  the  informing  thought ; 

Man,  like  a  glass  ball  with  a  spark  a-top. 

Out  of  the  magic  fire  that  lurks  inside, 

Shows  one  tint  at  a  time  to  take  the  eye  : 

Which,  let  a  finger  touch  the  silent  sleep. 

Shifted  a  hair's-breadth  shoots  you  dark  for  bright, 

SufEuses  bright  vdth  dark,  and  baiSes  so 

Your  sentence  absolute  for  shine  or  shade. 

Once  set  such  orbs,  —  white  styled,  black  stigmatized,  — 

A-roUing,  see  them  once  on  the  other  side 

Your  good  men  and  your  bad  men  every  one. 

From  Guido  Franceschini  to  Guy  Faux, 

Oft  would  you  rub  your  eyes  and  change  your  names. 

Such,  British  Public,  ye  who  like  me  not, 

(God  love  you !)  —  whom  I  yet  have  labored  for, 

Perchance  more  careful  whoso  runs  may  read 

Than  erst  when  aU,  it  seemed,  could  read  who  ran,  — 

Perchance  more  careless  whoso  reads  may  praise 

Than  late  when  he  who  praised  and  read  and  wrote 

Was  apt  to  find  himself  the  selfsame  me,  — 


82         THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Such  labor  had  such  issue,  so  I  wrought 
This  arc,  by  furtherance  of  such  alloy, 
And  so,  by  onfe  spirt,  take  away  its  trace 
Till,  justifiably  golden,  rounds  my  ring. 

A  ring  without  a  posy,  and  that  ring  mine  ? 

O  lyric  Love,  half  angel  and  half  bird, 

And  all  a  wonder  and  a  wild  desire,  — 

Boldest  of  hearts  that  ever  braved  the  sun, 

Took  sanctuary  within  the  holier  blue, 

And  sang  a  kindred  soul  out  to  his  face,  — 

Yet  human  at  the  red-ripe  of  the  heart  — 

When  the  first  summons  from  the  darkling  earth 

Beached  thee  amid  thy  chambers,  blanched  their  blue. 

And  bared  them  of  the  glory  —  to  drop  down, 

To  toil  for  man,  to  suffer  or  to  die,  — 

This  is  the  same  voice  :  can  thy  soul  know  change  ? 

Hail  then,  and  hearken  from  the  realms  of  help  ! 

Never  may  I  commence  my  song,  my  due 

To  God  who  best  taught  song  by  gift  of  thee, 

Except  with  bent  head  and  beseeching  hand  — 

That  still,  despite  the  distance  and  the  dark, 

What  was,  again  may  be ;  some  interchange 

Of  grace,  some  splendor  once  thy  very  thought, 

Some  benediction  anciently  thy  smile  : 

—  Never  conclude,  but  raising  hand  and  head 

Thither  where  eyes,  that  cannot  reach,  yet  yearn 

For  all  hope,  all  sustainment,  all  reward. 

Their  utmost  up  and  on,  —  so  blessing  back 

In  those  thy  realms  of  help,  that  heaven  thy  home. 

Some  whiteness  which,  I  judge,  thy  face  makes  proud, 

Some  wanness  where,  I  think,  thy  foot  may  fall ! 


n. 

HALF-ROME. 

What,  you,  Sir,  come  too  ?     (Just  the  man  I  'd  meet.) 

Be  ruled  by  me  and  have  a  dare  o'  the  crowd : 

This  way,  while  fresh  folk  go  and  get  their  gaze  : 

I  '11  tell  you  like  a  book  and  save  your  shins. 

Fie,  what  a  roaring  day  we  've  had  !     Whose  fault  ? 

Lorenzo  in  Lucina,  —  here  's  a  church 

To  hold  a  crowd  at  need,  accommodate 

All  comers  from  the  Corso  !     If  this  crush 

Make  not  its  priests  ashamed  of  what  they  show 

For  temple-room,  don't  prick  them  to  draw  purse 

And  down  with  bricks  and  mortar,  eke  us  out 

The  beggarly  transept  with  its  bit  of  apse 

Into  a  decent  space  for  Christian  ease. 

Why,  to-day's  lucky  pearl  is  cast  to  swine. 

Listen  and  estimate  the  luck  they  've  had  ! 

(The  right  man,  and  I  hold  him.) 

Sir,  do  you  see. 
They  laid  both  bodies  in  the  church,  this  morn 
The  first  thing,  on  the  chancel  two  steps  up. 
Behind  the  little  marble  balustrade  ; 
Disposed  them,  Pietro  the  old  murdered  fool 
To  the  right  of  the  altar,  and  his  wretched  wife 
On  the  other  side.     In  trying  to  count  stabs. 
People  supposed  Violante  showed  the  most, 
Till  somebody  explained  us  that  mistake  ; 
His  wounds  had  been  dealt  out  indifferent  where, 
But  she  took  all  her  stabbings  in  the  face. 
Since  punished  thus  solely  for  honor's  sake, 
Honoris  causa,  that 's  the  proper  term. 
A  delicacy  there  is,  our  gallants  hold, 
When  you  avenge  your  honor  and  only  then. 
That  you  disfigure  the  subject,  fray  the  face. 
Not  just  take  fife  and  end,  in  clownish  guise. 
It  was  Violante  gave  the  first  offence. 
Got  therefore  the  conspicuous  punishment : 
While  Pietro,  who  helped  merely,  his  mere  death 


34  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Answered  the  purpose,  so  his  face  went  free. 

We  fancied  even,  free  as  you  please,  that  face 

Showed  itself  still  intolerably  wronged  ; 

Was  wrinkled  over  with  resentment  yet, 

Nor  calm  at  aU,  as  murdered  faces  use, 

Once  the  worst  ended :  an  indignant  air 

O'  the  head  there  was  —  't  is  said  the  body  turned 

Round  and  away,  rolled  from  Violante's  side 

Where  they  had  laid  it  loving-husband-like. 

If  so,  if  corpses  can  be  sensitive. 

Why  did  not  he  roll  right  down  altar-step. 

Roll  on  through  nave,  roll  fairly  out  of  church, 

Deprive  Lorenzo  of  the  spectacle, 

Pay  back  thus  the  succession  of  affronts 

Whereto  this  church  had  served  as  theatre  ? 

For  see :  at  that  same  altar  where  he  lies, 

To  that  same  inch  of  step,  was  brought  the  babe 

For  blessing  after  baptism,  and  there»styled 

Pompilia,  and  a  string  of  names  beside, 

By  his  bad  wife,  some  seventeen  years  ago, 

Who  purchased  her  simply  to  paliu  on  him. 

Flatter  his  dotage  and  defraud  the  heirs. 

Wait  awhile  !     Also  to  this  very  step 

Did  this  Violante,  twelve  years  afterward. 

Bring,  the  mock-mother,  that  child-cheat  full-grown, 

Pompilia,  in  pursuance  of  her  plot, 

And  there  brave  God  and  man  a  second  time 

By  linking  a  new  victim  to  the  lie. 

There,  having  made  a  match  unknown  to  him, 

She,  still  unknown  to  Pietro,  tied  the  knot 

Which  nothing  cuts  except  this  kind  of  knife ; 

Yes,  made  her  daughter,  as  the  girl  was  held, 

Marry  a  man,  and  honest  man  beside, 

And  man  of  birth  to  boot,  —  clandestinely 

Because  of  this,  because  of  that,  because 

O'  the  devil's  will  to  work  his  worst  for  once,  — 

Confident  she  could  top  her  part  at  need 

And,  when  her  husband  must  be  told  in  turn, 

Ply  the  wife's  trade,  play  off  the  sex's  trick 

And,  alternating  worry  with  quiet  qualms, 

Bravado  with  submissiveness,  prettily  fool 

Her  Pietro  into  patience  :  so  it  proved. 

Ay,  't  is  four  years  since  man  and  wife  they  grew. 

This  Guido  Franceschini  and  this  same 

Pompilia,  foolishly  thought,  falsely  declared 

A  Comparini  and  the  couple's  child  : 


HALF-ROME  35 

Just  at  this  altar  where,  heneath  the  piece 
Of  Master  Guido  Reni,  Christ  on  cross, 
Second  to  nought  observable  in  Rome, 
That  couple  lie  now,  murdered  yestereve. 
Even  the  blind  can  see  a  providence  here. 

From  dawn  till  now  that  it  is  growing  dusk, 

A  multitude  has  flocked  and  filled  the  church. 

Coming  and  going,  coming  back  again, 

Till  to  count  crazed  one.     Rome  was  at  the  show. 

People  climbed  up  the  columns,  fought  for  spikes 

O'  the  chapel-rail  to  perch  themselves  upon. 

Jumped  over  and  so  broke  the  wooden  work 

Painted  like  porphyry  to  deceive  the  eye  ; 

Serve  the  priests  right !     The  organ-loft  was  crammed, 

"Women  were  fainting,  no  few  fights  ensued. 

In  short,  it  was  a  show  repaid  your  pains  : 

For,  though  their  room  was  scant  undoubtedly, 

Yet  they  did  manage  matters,  to  be  just, 

A  little  at  this  Lorenzo.     Body  o'  me  ! 

I  saw  a  body  exposed  once  .  .  .  never  mind  ! 

Enough  that  here  the  bodies  had  their  due. 

No  stinginess  in  wax,  a  row  all  round, 

And  one  big  taper  at  each  head  and  foot. 

So,  people  pushed  their  way,  and  took  their  turn, 

Saw,  threw  their  eyes  up,  crossed  themselves,  gave  place 

To  pressure  from  behind,  since  all  the  world 

Knew  the  old  pair,  could  talk  the  tragedy 

Over  from  first  to  last :  Pompilia  too. 

Those  who  had  knovm  her  —  what  't  was  worth  to  them ! 

Guido's  acquaintance  was  in  less  request ; 

The  Count  had  lounged  somewhat  too  long  in  Rome, 

Made  himself  cheap ;  with  him  were  hand  and  glove 

Barbers  and  blear-eyed,  as  the  ancient  sings. 

Also  he  is  alive  and  like  to  be  : 

Had  he  considerately  died,  —  aha ! 

I  jostled  Luca  Cini  on  his  staff, 

Mute  in  the  midst,  the  whole  man  one  amaze, 

Staring  amain  and  crossing  brow  and  breast. 
"  How  now  ?  "  asked  I.     "  'T  is  seventy  years,"  quoth  he, 
"  Since  I  first  saw,  holding  my  father's  hand. 

Bodies  set  forth  :  a  many  have  I  seen. 

Yet  all  was  poor  to  this  I  Hve  and  see. 

Here  the  world's  wickedness  seals  up  the  sum  : 

What  vidth  Molinos'  doctrine  and  this  deed, 


86  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Antichrist  surely  comes  and  doomsday 's  near. 
May  I  depart  in  peace,  I  have  seen  my  see." 
"  Depart  then,"  I  advised,  "  nor  block  the  road 

For  youngsters  still  behindhand  v^ith  such  sights !  " 
"  Why  no,"  rejoins  the  venerable  sire, 
■    "  I  know  it 's  horrid,  hideous  past  belief. 

Burdensome  far  beyond  what  eye  can  beaj ; 

But  they  do  promise,  when  PompUia  dies 

I'  the  course  o'  the  day,  —  and  she  can't  outlive  night,  - 

They  'U  bring  her  body  also  to  expose 

Beside  the  parents,  one,  two,  three  abreast ; 

That  were  indeed  a  sight  which,  might  I  see, 

I  trust  I  should  not  last  to  see  the  like  !  " 

Whereat  I  bade  the  senior  spare  his  shanks. 

Since  doctors  give  her  till  to-night  to  live, 

And  teU  us  how  the  butchery  happened.     "  Ah, 

But  you  can't  know  !  "  sighs  he,  "  I  'U  not  despair  : 

Beside  I'm  useful  at  explaining  things  — 

As,  how  the  dagger  laid  there  at  the  feet, 

Caused  the  peculiar  cuts  ;  I  mind  its  make, 

Triangular  i'  the  blade,  a  Genoese, 

Armed  with  those  little  hook-teeth  on  the  edge 

To  open  in  the  flesh  nor  shut  again : 

I  like  to  teach  a  novice  :  I  shall  stay  !  " 

And  stay  he  did,  and  stay  be  sure  he  will. 

A  personage  came  by  the  private  door 

At  noon  to  have  his  look  :  I  name  no  names  : 

Well  then.  His  Eminence  the  Cardinal, 

Whose  servitor  in  honorable  sort 

Guido  was  once,  the  same  who  made  the  match, 

(Will  you  have  the  truth  ?)  whereof  we  see  effect. 

No  sooner  whisper  ran  he  was  arrived 

Than  up  pops  Curate  Carlo,  a  brisk  lad. 

Who  never  lets  a  good  occasion  slip. 

And  volunteers  improving  the  event. 

We  looked  he  'd  give  the  history's  self  some  help, 

Treat  us  to  how  the  wife's  confession  went 

(This  morning  she  confessed  her  crime,  we  know) 

And,  maybe,  throw  in  something  of  the  Priest  — 

If  he  's  not  ordered  back,  punished  anew. 

The  gallant,  Caponsacchi,  Lucifer 

I'  the  garden  where  Pompilia,  Eve-like,  lured 

Her  Adam  Guido  to  his  fault  and  fall. 

Think  you  we  got  a  sprig  of  speech  akin 

To  this  from  Carlo,  with  the  Cardinal  there  ? 


HALF-ROME  37 

Too  wary  ho  was,  too  widely  awake,  I  trow. 

He  did  the  murder  in  a  dozen  words  ; 

Then  said  that  all  such  outrages  crop  forth 

I'  the  course  of  nature,  when  Molinos'  tares 

Are  sown  for  wheat,  flourish  and  choke  the  Church  s 

So  slid  on  to  the  abominahle  sect 

And  the  philo^phic  sin  —  we  've  heard  all  that, 

And  the  Cardinal  too,  (who  book-made  on  the  same) 

But,  for  the  murder,  left  it  where  he  found. 

Oh  but  he 's  quick,  the  Curate,  minds  his  game ! 

And,  after  all,  we  have  the  main  o'  the  fact : 

Case  could  not  well  be  simpler,  —  mapped,  as  it  were, 

We  foUow  the  murder's  maze  from  source  to  sea. 

By  the  red  line,  past  mistake  :  one  sees  indeed 

Not  only  how  all  was  and  must  have  been. 

But  cannot  other  than  be  to  the  end  of  time. 

Turn  out  here  by  the  Ruspoli !     Do  you  hold 

Guido  was  so  prodigiously  to  blame  ? 

A  certain  cousin  of  yours  has  told  you  so  ? 

Exactly !     Here 's  a  friend  shall  set  you  right, 

Let  him  but  have  the  handsel  of  your  ear. 

These  wretched  Comparini  were  once  gay 

And  galliard,  of  the  modest  middle  class  : 

Bom  in  this  quarter  seventy  years  ago. 

And  married  young,  they  lived  the  accustomed  life. 

Citizens  as  they  were  of  good  repute  : 

And,  childless,  naturally  took  their  ease 

With  only  their  two  selves  to  care  about 

And  use  the  wealth  for  :  wealthy  is  the  word. 

Since  Pietro  was  possessed  of  house  and  land  — 

And  specially  one  house,  when  good  days  smiled. 

In  Via  Vittoria,  the  aspectable  street 

Where  he  lived  mainly  ;  but  another  house 

Of  less  pretension  did  he  buy  betimes. 

The  villa,  meant  for  jaunts  and  jollity, 

I'  the  Pauline  district,  to  be  private  there  — 

Just  what  puts  murder  in  an  enemy's  head. 

Moreover,  —  here  's  the  worm  i'  the  core,  the  germ 

O'  the  rottenness  and  ruin  which  arrived,  — 

He  owned  some  usufruct,  had  moneys'  use 

Lifelong,  but  to  determine  with  his  life 

In  heirs'  default :  so,  Pietro  craved  an  heir, 

(The  story  always  old  and  always  new) 

Shut  his  fool's-eyes  fast  on  the  visible  good 

And  wealth  for  certain,  opened  them  owl-wide 


38         THE  RING   AND  THE  BOOK 

On  fortune's  sole  piece  of  forgetfulness, 

The  child  that  should  have  been  and  would  not  be. 

Hence,  seventeen  years  ago,  conceive  his  glee 
When  first  Violante,  'twixt  a  smUe  and  blush, 
With  touch  of  agitation  proper  too. 
Announced  that,  spite  of  her  uppromising  age, 
The  miracle  would  in  time  be  manifest, 
An  heir's  birth  was  to  happen  :  and  it  did. 
Somehow  or  other,  —  how,  all  in  good  time  ! 
By  a  trick,  a  sleight  of  hand  you  are  to  hear,  — 
A  child  was  born,  Pompilia,  for  his  joy. 
Plaything  at  once  and  prop,  a  fairy-gift, 
A  saints'  grace  or,  say,  grant  of  the  good  God,  — 
A  fiddle-pin's  end  !     What  imbeciles  are  we  ! 
Look  now :  if  some  one  could  have  prophesied, 

"  For  love  of  you,  for  liking  to  your  wife, 
I  undertake  to  crush  a  snake  I  spy 
SettKng  itself  i'  the  soft  of  both  your  breasts. 
Give  me  yon  babe  to  strangle  painlessly ! 
She  'U  soar  to  the  safe :  you  'U  have  your  crying  out, 
Then  sleep,  then  wake,  then  sleep,  then  end  your  days 
In  peace  and  plenty,  mixed  with  mild  regret. 
Thirty  years  hence  when  Christmas  takes  old  folk  "  — 
How  had  old  Pietro  sprung  up,  crossed  himself, 
And  kicked  the  conjuror  !     Whereas  you  and  I, 
Being  wise  with  after-wit,  had  clapped  our  hands  ; 
Nay,  added,  in  the  old  fool's  interest, 

"  Strangle  the  black-eyed  babe,  so  far  so  good, 
But  on  condition  you  relieve  the  man 
O'  the  wife  and  throttle  him  Violante  too  — 
She  is  the  mischief  !  " 

We  had  hit  the  mark. 
She,  whose  trick  brought  the  babe  into  the  world, 
She  it  was,  when  the  babe  was  grown  a  girl. 
Judged  a  new  trick  should  reinforce  the  old, 
Send  vigor  to  the  lie  now  somewhat  spent 
By  twelve  years'  service ;  lest  Eve's  rule  decline 
Over  this  Adam  of  hers,  whose  cabbage-plot 
Throve  dubiously  since  turned  fools'-paradise. 
Spite  of  a  nightingale  on  every  stump. 
Pietro's  estate  was  dwindling  day  by  day. 
While  he,  rapt  far  above  such  mundane  care, 
Crawled  all-fours  with  his  baby  pick-a-back. 
Sat  at  serene  cats'-cradle  with  his  child. 


HALF-ROME  39 

Or  took  the  measured  tallness,  top  to  toe, 

Of  what  was  grown  a  great  girl  twelve  years  old : 

Till  sudden  at  the  door  a  tap  discreet, 

A  visitor's  premonitory  cough. 

And  poverty  had  reached  hLi  in  her  rounds. 

This  came  when  he  was  past  the  working-time, 

Had  learned  to  dandle  and  forgot  to  dig, 

And  who  must  but  Violante  cast  about, 

Contrive  and  task  that  head  of  hers  again  ? 

She  who  had  caught  one  fish,  could  make  that  catch 

A  bigger  still,  in  angler's  policy : 

So,  with  an  angler's  mercy  for  the  bait, 

Her  minnow  was  set  wriggling  on  its  barb 

And  tossed  to  mid-stream  ;  which  means,  this  grown  girl 

With  the  great  eyes  and  bounty  of  black  hair 

And  first  crisp  youth  that  tempts  a  jaded  taste, 

Was  whisked  i'  the  way  of  a  certain  man,  who  snapped. 

Count  Guido  Franceschini  the  Aretine 

Was  head  of  an  old  noble  house  enough. 

Not  over-rich,  you  can't  have  everjrthing, 

But  such  a  man  as  riches  rub  against, 

Readily  stick  to,  —  one  with  a  right  to  them 

Born  in  the  blood  :  't  was  in  his  very  brow 

Always  to  knit  itself  against  the  world, 

Beforehand  so,  when  that  world  stinted  due 

Service  and  suit :  the  world  ducks  and  defers. 

As  such  folks  do,  he  had  come  up  to  Rome 

To  better  his  fortune,  and,  since  many  years. 

Was  friend  and  follower  of  a  cardinal ; 

Waiting  the  rather  thus  on  providence, 

That  a  shrewd  younger  poorer  brother  yet. 

The  Abate  Paolo,  a  regular  priest, 

Had  long  since  tried  his  powers  and  found  he  swam 

With  the  deftest  on  the  Galilean  pool  : 

But  then  he  was  a  web-foot,  free  o'  the  wave, 

And  no  ambiguous  dab-chick  hatched  to  strut. 

Humbled  by  any  fond  attempt  to  swim 

When  fiercer  fowl  usurped  his  dunghill-top  — 

A  whole  priest,  Paolo,  no  mere  piece  of  one, 

Like  Guido  tacked  thus  to  the  Church's  tail ! 

Guido  moreover,  as  the  head  o'  the  house, 

Claiming  the  main  prize,  not  the  lesser  luck, 

The  centre  lily,  no  mere  chickweed  fringe. 


40  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

He  waited  and  learned  waiting,  thirty  years  ; 

Grot  promise,  missed  performance  —  what  would  you  have? 

No  petty  post  rewards  a  nobleman 

For  spending  youth  in  splendid  lackey-work, 

And  Qiere  's  concurrence  for  each  rarer  prize ; 

When  that  falls,  rougher  hand  and  readier  foot 

Push  aside  Guido  spite  of  his  black  looks. 

The  end  was,  Guido,  when  the  warning  showed 

The  &st  white  hair  i'  the  glass,  gave  up  the  game. 

Determined  on  returning  to  his  town, 

Making  the  best  of  bad  incurable. 

Patching  the  old  palace  up  and  lingering  there 

The  customary  life  out  with  his  kin. 

Where  honor  helps  to  spice  the  scanty  bread. 

Just  as  he  trimmed  his  lamp  and  girt  his  loins 

To  go  his  journey  and  be  wise  at  home. 

In  the  right  mood  of  disappointed  worth. 

Who  but  Violante  sudden  spied  her  prey 

(Where  was  I  with  that  angler-simUe  ?) 

And  threw  her  bait,  PompUia,  where  he  sulked  — 

A  gleam  i'  the  gloom ! 

Wliat  if  he  gained  thus  mnch. 
Wrung  out  this  sweet  drop  from  the  bitter  Past, 
Bore  off  this  rose-bud  from  the  prickly  brake 
To  justify  such  torn  clothes  and  scratched  hands, 
And,  after  all,  brought  something  back  from  Rome  ? 
Would  not  a  wife  serve  at  Arezzo  well 
To  light  the  dark  house,  lend  a  look  of  youth 
To  the  mother's  face  grown  meagre,  left  alone 
And  famished  with  the  emptiness  of  hope. 
Old  Donna  Beatrice  ?    Wife  you  want 
Would  you  play  family-representative. 
Carry  you  elder-brotherly,  high  and  right 
O'er  what  may  prove  the  natural  petulance 
Of  the  third  brother,  younger,  greedier  still, 
Girolamo,  also  a  fledgeling  priest, 
Beginning  life  in  turn  with  callow  beak 
Agape  for  luck,  no  luck  had  stopped  and  stilled. 
Such  were  the  pinks  and  grays  about  the  bait 
Persuaded  Guido  gulp  down  hook  and  all. 

What  constituted  him  so  choice  a  catch. 

You  question  ?    Past  his  prime  and  poor  beside ! 

Ask  that  of  any  she  who  knows  the  trade. 


HALF-ROME  41 

Why  first,  here  was  a  nobleman  with  friends, 

A  palace  one  might  run  to  and  be  safe 

When  presently  the  threatened  fate  should  fall, 

A  big-browed  master  to  block  doorway  up. 

Parley  with  people  bent  on  pushing  by, 

And  praying  the  mild  Pietro  quick  clear  scores  : 

Is  birth  a  privilege  and  power  or  no  ? 

Also,  —  but  judge  of  the  result  desired, 

By  the  price  paid  and  manner  of  the  sale. 

The  Count  was  made  woo,  win  and  wed  at  once : 

Asked,  and  was  haled  for  answer,  lest  the  heat 

Should  cool,  to  San  Lorenzo,  one  blind  eve, 

And  had  Pompilia  put  into  his  arms 

O'  the  sly  there,  by  a  hasty  candle-blink. 

With  sanction  of  some  priest-confederate 

Properly  paid  to  make  short  work  and  sure. 

So  did  old  Pietro's  daughter  change  her  style 
For  Guido  Franceschini's  lady-wife 
Ere  Guido  knew  it  weU  ;  and  why  this  haste 
And  scramble  and  indecent  secrecy  ? 
^  Lest  Pietro,  all  the  while  in  ignorance, 
Should  get  to  learn,  gainsay  and  break  the  match : 
His  peevishness  had  promptly  put  aside 
Such  honor  and  refused  the  proffered  boon. 
Pleased  to  become  authoritative  once. 
She  remedied  the  wilful  man's  mistake  —  " 
Did  our  discreet  Violante.     Eather  say, 
Thus  did  she,  lest  the  object  of  her  game, 
Guido  the  gulled  one,  give  him  but  a  chance, 
A  moment's  respite,  time  for  thinking  twice. 
Might  count  the  cost  before  he  sold  himself. 
And  try  the  clink  of  coin  they  paid  him  with. 

But  coin  paid,  bargain  struck  and  business  done, 

Once  the  clandestine  marriage  over  thus, 

AU  parties  made  perforce  the  best  o'  the  fact ; 

Pietro  could  play  vast  indignation  ofE, 

Be  ignorant  and  astounded,  dupe,  poor  soul, 

Please  you,  of  daughter,  wife  and  son-in-law. 

While  Guido  found  himself  in  flagrant  fault, 

Must  e'en  do  suit  and  service,  soothe,  subdue 

A  father  not  unreasonably  chafed, 

Bring  him  to  terms  by  paying  son's  devoir. 

Pleasant  initiation  1 


42  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  end,  this : 
Guido's  broad  back  was  saddled  to  bear  all  — 
Pietro,  Violante,  and  Pompilia  too,  — 
Three  lots  cast  confidently  in.  one  lap, 
Three  dead-weights  with  one  arm  to  lift  the  three 
Out  of  their  limbo  up  to  life  again. 
The  Roman  household  was  to  strike  fresh  root 
In  a  new  soil,  graced  with  a  novel  name, 
Gilt  with  an  alien  glory,  Aretine 
Henceforth  and  never  Roman  any  more. 
By  treaty  and  engagement ;  thus  it  ran  : 
Pompilia's  dowry  for  Pompilia's  self 
As  a  thing  of  course,  —  she  paid  her  own  expense; 
No  loss  nor  gain  there  :  but  the  couple,  you  see, 
They,  for  their  part,  turned  over  first  of  aU 
Their  fortune  in  its  rags  and  rottenness 
To  Guido,  fusion  and  confusion,  he 
And  his  with  them  and  theirs,  —  whatever  rag 
With  coin  residuary  fell  on  floor 
When  Brother  Paolo's  energetic  shake 
Should  do  the  relics  justice  :  since  't  was  thought, 
Once  vulnerable  Pietro  out  of  reach. 
That,  left  at  Rome  as  representative. 
The  Abate,  backed  by  a  potent  patron  here, 
And  otherwise  with  purple  flushing  him, 
Might  play  a  good  game  with  the  creditor, 
M^e  up  a  moiety  which,  great  or  small, 
Should  go  to  the  common  stock  —  if  anything, 
Guido's,  so  far  repayment  of  the  cost 
About  to  be,  —  and  if,  as  looked  more  like. 
Nothing,  —  why,  all  the  nobler  cost  were  his 
Who  guaranteed,  for  better  or  for  worse. 
To  Pietro  and  Violante,  house  and  home, 
Eith  and  kin,  with  the  pick  of  company 
And  life  o'  the  fat  o'  the  land  while  life  should  lafib 
How  say  you  to  the  bargain  at  first  blush  ? 
Why  did  a  middle-aged  not-siUy  man 
Show  himself  thus  besotted  all  at  once  ? 
Quoth  Solomon,  one  black  eye  does  it  aU. 

They  went  to  Arezzo,  —  Pietro  and  his  spouse, 
With  just  the  dusk  o'  the  day  of  life  to  spend. 
Eager  to  use  the  twilight,  taste  a  treat. 
Enjoy  for  once  with  neither  stay  nor  stint 
The  luxury  of  lord-and-lady-ship, 
And  realize  the  stuff  and  nonsense  long 


HALF^ROME  A3 

A-simmer  in  their  noddles  ;  vent  the  fume 

Born  there  and  bred,  the  citizen's  conceit 

How  fares  nobility  while  crossing  earth, 

What  rampart  or  invisible  body-guard 

Keeps  off  the  taint  of  common  life  from  such. 

They  had  not  fed  for  nothing  on  the  tales 

Of  grandees  who  give  banquets  worthy  Jove, 

Spending  gold  as  if  Plutus  paid  a  whim, 

Served  with  obeisances  as  when  .  .  .  what  God  ? 

I  'm  at  the  end  of  my  tether ;  't  is  enough 

You  understand  what  they  came  primed  to  see : 

While  Guido  who  should  minister  the  sight, 

Stay  all  this  qualmish  greediness  of  soul 

With  apples  and  with  flagons  —  for  his  part, 

Was  set  on  life  diverse  as  pole  from  pole  : 

Lust  of  the  flesh,  lust  of  the  eye,  —  what  else 

Was  he  just  now  awake  from,  sick  and  sage. 

After  the  very  debauch  they  would  begin  ?  ^ — 

Suppose  such  stuff  and  nonsense  really  were. 

That  bubble,  they  were  bent  on  blowing  big, 

He  had  blown  already  till  he  burst  his  cheeks, 

And  hence  found  soapsuds  bitter  to  the  tongue. 

He  hoped  now  to  walk  softly  all  his  days 

In  soberness  of  spirit,  if  haply  so, 

Pinching  and  paring  he  might  furnish  forth 

A  frugal  board,  bare  sustenance,  no  more. 

Till  times,  that  could  not  well  grow  worse,  should  mend. 

Thus  minded  then,  two  parties  mean  to  meet 
And  make  each  other  happy.     The  first  week, 
And  fancy  strikes  fact  and  explodes  in  full. 
"  This,"  shrieked  the  Comparini,  "  this  the  Count, 
The  palace,  the  signorial  privilege. 
The  pomp  and  pageantry  were  promised  us  ? 
For  this  have  we  exchanged  our  liberty, 
Our  competence,  our  darling  of  a  child  ? 
To  house  as  spectres  in  a  sepulchre 
Under  this  black  stone  heap,  the  street's  disgrace, 
Grimmest  as  that  is  of  the  gruesome  town. 
And  here  pick  garbage  on  a  pewter  plate. 
Or  cough  at  verjuice  dripped  from  earthenware  ? 
Oh  Via  Vittoria,  oh  the  other  place 
I'  the  Pauline,  did  we  give  you  up  for  this  ? 
Where  's  the  foregone  housekeeping  good  and  gay, 
The  neighborliness,  the  companionship. 
The  treat  and  feast  when  holidays  came  round. 


44         THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  daily  feast  that  seemed  no  treat  at  all, 

Called  common  by  the  uncommon  fools  we  were  ! 

Even  the  sun  that  used  to  shine  at  Rome, 

Where  is  it  ?     Robbed  and  starved  and  frozen  too. 

We  will  have  justice,  justice  if  there  be  !  " 

Did  not  they  shout,  did  not  the  town  resound  ! 

Guido's  old  lady-mother  Beatrice, 

Who  since  her  husband.  Count  Tommaso's  death, 

Had  held  sole  sway  i'  the  house,  —  the  doited  crone 

Slow  to  acknowledge,  curtsey  and  abdicate,  — 

Was  recognized  of  true  novercal  type, 

Dragon  and  devil.     His  brother  Girolamo 

Came  next  in  order  :  priest  was  he  ?     The  worse  J 

No  way  of  winning  him  to  leave  his  mumps 

And  help  the  laugh  against  old  ancestry 

And  formal  habits  long  since  out  of  date. 

Letting  his  youth  be  patterned  on  the  mode 

Approved  of  where  Violante  laid  down  law. 

Or  did  he  brighten  up  by  way  of  change, 

Dispose  himself  for  afBabillty  ? 

The  malapert,  too  complaisant  by  half 

To  the  alarmed  young  novice  of  a  bride ! 

Let  him  go  buzz,  betake  himself  elsewhere, 

Nor  singe  his  fly-wings  in  the  candle-flame  ! 

Four  months'  probation  of  this  purgatory. 

Dog-snap  and  cat-claw,  curse  and  counterblast. 

The  devil's  self  were  sick  of  his  own  din  ; 

And  Pietro,  after  trumpeting  huge  wrongs 

At  church  and  market-place,  pillar  and  post. 

Square's  corner,  street's  end,  now  the  palace-step 

And  now  the  wine-house  bench  —  while,  on  her  side, 

Violante  up  and  down  was  voluble 

In  whatsoever  pair  of  ears  would  perk 

From  goody,  gossip,  cater-cousin  and  sib, 

Curious  to  peep  at  the  inside  of  things 

And  catch  in  the  act  pretentious  poverty 

At  its  wits'  end  to  keep  appearance  up. 

Make  both  ends  meet,  —  nothing  the  vulgar  loves 

Like  wha;t  this  couple  pitched  them  right  and  left. 

Then,  their  worst  done  that  way,  both  struck  tent,  marched . 

—  Renounced  their  share  o'  the  bargain,  flung  what  dues 

Guide  was  bound  to  pay,  in  Guido's  face. 

Left  their  hearts'-darling,  treasure  of  the  twain 

And  so  forth,  the  poor  inexperienced  bride, 

To  her  own  devices,  bade  Arezzo  rot, 

Cursed  life  signorial,  and  sought  Rome  once  more. 


HALF-ROME  45 

I  see  the  comment  ready  on  your  lip, 
"  The  better  fortune,  Guido's  —  free  at  least 
By  this  defection  of  the  foolish  pair, 
He  could  begin  make  profit  in  some  sort 
Of  the  young  bride  and  the  new  quietness, 
Lead  his  own  life  now,  henceforth  breathe  unplagiied." 
Could  he  ?     You  know  the  sex  like  Guido's  self. 
Learn  the  Violante-nature ! 

Once  in  Rome, 
By  way  of  helping  Guido  lead  such  life. 
Her  first  act  to  inaugurate  return 
Was,  she  got  pricked  in  conscience  :  Jubilee 
Gave  her  the  hint.     Our  Pope,  as  kind  as  just, 
Attained  his  eighty  years,  announced  a  boon 
Should  make  us  bless  the  fact,  held  Jubilee  — 
Short  shrift,  prompt  pardon  for  the  light  ofiEence, 
And  no  rough  dealing  with  the  regular  crime 
So  this  occasion  were  not  suffered  slip  — 
Otherwise,  sins  commuted  as  before, 
Without  the  least  abatement  in  the  price. 
Now,  who  had  thought  it  ?     All  this  while,  it  seems^ 
Our  sage  Yiolante  had  a  sin  of  a  sort 
She  must  compound  for  now  or  not  at  all. 
Now  be  the  ready  riddance  !     She  confessed 
Pompilia  was  a  fable  not  a  fact : 
She  never  bore  a  child  in  her  whole  life. 
Had  this  child  been  a  changeling,  that  were  grace 
In  some  degree,  exchange  is  hardly  theft, 
You  take  your  stand  on  truth  ere  leap  your  lie  : 
Here  was  all  lie,  no  touch  of  truth  at  all, 
AH  the  lie  hers  —  not  even  Pietro  guessed 
He  was  as  childless  still  as  twelve  years  since. 
The  babe  had  been  a  find  i'  the  filth-heap.  Sir, 
Catch  from  the  kennel !     There  was  found  at  Rome, 
Down  in  the  deepest  of  our  social  dregs, 
A  woman  who  professed  the  wanton's  trade 
Under  the  requisite  thin  coverture, 
Communis  meretrix  and  washer-wife : 
The  creature  thus  conditioned  found  by  chance 
Motherhood  like  a  jewel  in  the  muck, 
And  straightway  either  trafficked  with  her  prize 
Or  listened  to  the  tempter  and  let  be,  — 
Made  pact  abolishing  her  place  and  part 
In  womankind,  beast-fellowship  indeed. 
She  sold  this  babe  eight  months  before  its  birth 


16  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

To  our  Violante,  Pietro's  honest  spouse, 
Well-famed  and  widely-instanced  as  that  crown 
To  the  husband,  virtue  in  a  woman's  shape. 
She  it  was,  bought,  paid  for,  passed  ofE  the  thing 
As  very  flesh  and  blood  and  child  of  her 
Despite  the  flagrant  fifty  years,  —  and  why  ? 
Partly  to  please  old  Pietro,  fill  his  cup 
With  wine  at  the  late  hour  when  lees  are  left, 
And  send  him  from  life's  feast  rejoicingly,  — 
Partly  to  cheat  the  rightful  heirs,  agape, 
Each  imcle's  cousin's  brother's  son  of  him, 
For  that  same  principal  of  the  usufruct 
It  vext  him  he  must  die  and  leave  behind. 

Such  was  the  sin  had  come  to  be  confessed. 

Which  of  the  tales,  the  first  or  last,  was  true  ? 

Did  she  so  sin  once,  or,  confessing  now, 

Sin  for  the  first  time  ?     Either  way  you  wilL 

One  sees  a  reason  for  the  cheat :  one  sees 

A  reason  for  a  cheat  in  owning  cheat 

Where  no  cheat  had  been.     What  of  the  revenge  ? 

What  prompted  the  contrition  all  at  once. 

Made  the  avowal  easy,  the  shame  slight  ? 

Why,  prove  they  but  Pompilia  not  their  child. 

No  child,  no  dowry  !  this,  supposed  their  child, 

Had  claimed  what  this,  shown  alien  to  their  blood. 

Claimed  nowise  :  Guide's  claim  was  through  his  wife, 

Null  then  and  void  with  hers.     The  biter  bit. 

Do  you  see  !     For  such  repayment  of  the  past, 

One  might  conceive  the  penitential  pair 

Ready  to  bring  their  case  before  the  courts, 

Publish  their  infamy  to  all  the  world 

And,  arm  in  arm,  go  chuckling  thence  content. 

Is  this  your  view  ?     'T  was  Guide's  anyhow 
And  colorable :  he  came  forward  then. 
Protested  in  his  very  bride's  behalf 
Against  this  lie  and  all  it  led  to,  least 
Of  all  the  loss  o'  the  dowry  ;  no !     From  her 
And  him  alike  he  would  expunge  the  blot, 
Erase  the  brand  of  such  a  bestial  birth, 
Participate  in  no  hideous  heritage 
Gathered  from  the  gutter  to  be  garnered  up 
And  glorified  in  a  palace.     Peter  and  Paul ! 
But  that  who  likes  may  look  upon  the  pair 
Exposed  in  yonder  church,  and  show  his  skill 


HALF-ROME  4/ 

By  saying  which  is  eye  and  which  is  mouth 

Through  those  stabs  thick  and  threefold,  —  but  for  that  — 

A  strong  word  on  the  liars  and  their  lie 

Might  crave  expression  and  obtain  it,  Sir ! 

—  Though  prematurely,  since  there 's  more  to  come, 
More  that  will  shake  your  confidence  in  things 
Your  cousin  tells  you,  —  may  I  be  so  bold  ? 

This  makes  the  first  act  of  the  farce,  —  anon 

The  sombre  element  comes  stealing  in 

Till  all  is  black  or  blood-red  in  the  piece. 

Guide,  thus  made  a  laughing-stock  abroad, 

A  proverb  for  the  market-place  at  home, 

Left  alone  with  Pompilia  now,  this  graft 

So  reputable  on  his  ancient  stock, 

This  plague-seed  set  to  fester  his  sound  flesh. 

What  does  the  Count  ?    Revenge  him  on  his  wife  ? 

Unfasten  at  aU  risks  to  rid  himself 

The  noisome  lazar-badge,  fall  foul  of  fate, 

And,  careless  whether  the  poor  rag  was  ware 

O'  the  part  it  played,  or  helped  unwittingly. 

Bid  it  go  burn  and  leave  his  frayed  flesh  free  ? 

Plainly,  did  Guido  open  both  doors  wide, 

Spurn  thence  the  cur-cast  creature  and  clear  scores 

As  man  might,  tempted  in  extreme  like  this  ? 

No,  birth  and  breeding,  and  compassion  too 

Saved  her  such  scandal.     She  was  young,  he  thought, 

Not  privy  to  the  treason,  punished  most 

I'  the  proclamation  of  it ;  why  make  her 

A  party  to  the  crime  she  suffered  by  ? 

Then  the  black  eyes  were  now  her  very  own. 

Not  any  more  VIolante's  :  let  her  live, 

Lose  in  a  new  air,  under  a  new  sun, 

The  taint  of  the  imputed  parentage 

Truly  or  falsely,  take  no  more  the  touch 

Of  Pietro  and  his  partner  anyhow  ! 

AU  might  go  well  yet. 

So  she  thought,  herself, 
It  seems,  since  what  was  her  first  act  and  deed 
When  news  came  how  these  kindly  ones  at  Home 
Had  stripped  her  naked  to  amuse  the  world 
With  spots  here,  spots  there  and  spots  everywhere  ? 

—  For  I  should  teU  you  that  they  noised  abroad 
Not  merely  the  main  scandal  of  her  birth, 

But  slanders  written,  printed,  published  wide, 


48  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Pamphlets  which  set  forth  all  the  pleasantry 

Of  how  the  promised  glory  was  a  dream, 

The  power  a  bubble,  and  the  wealth —  why,  dust. 

There  was  a  picture,  painted  to  the  life, 

Of  those  rare  doings,  that  superlative 

Initiation  in  magnificence 

Conferred  on  a  poor  Roman  family 

By  favor  of  Arezzo  and  her  first 

And  famousest,  the  Franceschini  there. 

You  had  the  Countship  holding  head  aloft 

Bravely  although  bespattered,  shifts  and  straits 

In  keeping  out  o'  the  way  o'  the  wheels  o'  the  world. 

The  comic  of  those  home-contrivances 

When  the  old  lady-mother's  wit  was  taxed 

To  find  sis  clamorous  mouths  in  food  more  real 

Than  fruit  plucked  off  the  cobwebbed  family-tree, 

Or  acorns  shed  from  its  gilt  mouldered  frame  — 

Cold  glories  served  up  with  stale  fame  for  sauce. 

What,  I  ask, — when  the  drunkenness  of  hate 

Hiccuped  return  for  hospitality, 

Befouled  the  table  they  had  feasted  on, 

Or  say,  —  God  knows  I  'U  not  prejudge  the  case,  — 

Grievances  thus  distorted,  magnified, 

Colored  by  quarrel  into  calumny, ' — 

What  side  did  our  Pompilia  first  espouse  ? 

Her  first  deliberate  measure  was,  she  wrote, 

Pricked  by  some  loyal  impulse,  straight  to  Rome 

And  her  husband's  brother  the  Abate  there, 

Who,  having  managed  to  efEect  the  match. 

Might  take  men's  censure  for  its  iU  success. 

She  made  a  clean  breast  also  in  her  turn. 

And  qualified  the  couple  properly, 

Since  whose  departure,  hell,  she  said,  was  heaven, 

And  the  house,  late  distracted  by  their  peals, 

Quiet  as  Carmel  where  the  lilies  live. 

Herself  had  oftentimes  complained :  but  why  ? 

All  her  complaints  had  been  their  prompting,  tales 

Trumped  up,  devices  to  this  very  end. 

Their  game  had  been  to  thwart  her  husband's  love 

And  cross  his  will,  malign  his  words  and  ways, 

To  reach  this  issue,  furnish  this  pretence 

For  impudent  withdrawal  from  their  bond,  — 

Theft,  indeed  murder,  since  they  meant  no  less 

Whose  last  injunction  to  her  simple  self 

Had  been  —  what  parents'-precept  do  you  think  ? 

That  she  should  follow  after  with  all  speed, 


HALF-ROME  49 

Fly  from  her  husband's  house  clandestinely, 
Join  them  at  Rome  again,  but  first  of  all 
Pick  up  a  fresh  companion  in  her  flight, 
So  putting  youth  and  beauty  to  fit  use,  — 
Some  gay  dare-devil  cloak-and-rapier  spark 
Capable  of  adventure,  —  helped  by  whom 
She,  some  fine  eve  when  lutes  were  in  the  air, 
Having  put  poison  in  the  posset-cup, 
Laid  hands  on  money,  jewels  and  the  like, 
And,  to  conceal  the  thing  with  more  effect, 
By  way  of  parting  benediction  too. 
Fired  the  house,  —  one  would  finish  famously 
I'  the  tumult,  slip  out,  scurry  ofE  and  away 
And  turn  up  merrily  at  home  once  more. 
Fact  this,  and  not  a  dream  o'  the  devU,  Sir ! 
And  more  than  this,  a  fact  none  dare  dispute, 
Word  for  word,  such  a  letter  did  she  write. 
And  such  the  Abate  read,  nor  simply  read 
But  gave  all  Home  to  ruminate  upon, 
In  answer  to  such  charges  as,  I  say, 
The  couple  sought  to  be  beforehand  with. 

The  cause  thus  carried  to  the  courts  at  Eome, 

Guido  away,  the  Abate  had  no  choice 

But  stand  forth,  take  his  absent  brother's  part, 

Defend  the  honor  of  himself  beside. 

He  made  what  head  he  might  against  the  pair. 

Maintained  Pompilia's  birth  legitimate 

And  all  her  rights  intact  —  hers,  Guido's  now : 

And  so  far  by  his  policy  turned  their  flank, 

(The  enemy  being  beforehand  in  the  place) 

That,  —  though  the  courts  allowed  the  cheat  for  fact, 

Suffered  Violante  to  parade  her  shame, 

Publish  her  infamy  to  heart's  content. 

And  let  the  tale  o'  the  feigned  birth  pass  for  proved,  — 

Yet  they  stopped  there,  refused  to  intervene 

And  dispossess  the  innocents,  befooled 

By  gifts  o'  the  guilty,  at  guilt's  new  caprice. 

They  would  not  take  away  the  dowry  now 

Wrongfully  given  at  first,  nor  bar  at  all 

Succession  to  the  aforesaid  usufruct. 

Established  on  a  fraud,  nor  play  the  game 

Of  Pietro's  child  and  now  not  Pietro's  child 

As  it  might  suit  the  gamester's  purpose.     Thus 

Was  justice  ever  ridiculed  in  Rome : 

Such  be  the  double  verdicts  favored  here 


50  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

"Which  send  away  both  parties  to  a  suit 

Nor  puffed  up  nor  cast  down,  —  for  each  a  crumb 

Of  right,  for  neither  of  them  the  whole  loaf. 

Whence,  on  the  Comparini's  part,  appeal  — 

Counter-appeal  on  Guido's,  —  that 's  the  game  : 

And  so  the  matter  stands,  even  to  this  hour, 

Bandied  as  balls  are  in  a  tennis-court, 

And  so  might  stand,  unless  some  heart  broke  first, 

TUl  doomsday. 

Leave  it  thus,  and  now  revert 
To  the  old  Arezzo  whence  we  moved  to  Some. 
We  've  had  enough  o'  the  parents,  false  or  true. 
Now  for  a  touch  o'  the  daughter's  quality. 
The  start 's  fair  henceforth,  every  obstacle 
Out  of  the  young  vpife's  footpath,  she 's  alone. 
Left  to  walk  warily  now  :  how  does  she  walk  ? 
Why,  once  a  dwelling's  threshold  marked  and  crossed 
In  rubric  by  the  enemy  on  his  rounds 
As  eligible,  as  fit  place  of  prey, 
Ba£9e  him  henceforth,  keep  him  out  who  can ! 
Stop  up  the  door  at  the  first  hint  of  hoof. 
Presently  at  the  window  taps  a  horn. 
And  Satan  's  by  your  fireside,  never  fear ! 
Pompilia,  left  alone  now,  found  herself  ; 
Found  herself  young  too,  sprightly,  fair  enough, 
Matched  with  a  husband  old  beyond  his  age 
(Though  that  was  something  like  four  times  her  own) 
Because  of  cares  past,  present  and  to  come : 
Found  too  the  house  dull  and  its  inmates  dead, 
So,  looked  outside  for  light  and  life. 

And  love 
Did  in  a  trice  turn  up  with  life  and  light,  — 
The  man  with  the  aureole,  sympathy  made  flesh, 
The  aU-consoling  Caponsacchi,  Sir  ! 
A  priest  —  what  else  should  the  consoler  be  ? 
With  goodly  shoulderblade  and  proper  leg, 
A  portly  make  and  a  symmetric  shape. 
And  curls  that  clustered  to  the  tonsure  quite. 
This  was  a  bishop  in  the  bud,  and  now 
A  canon  full-blown  so  far  :  priest,  and  priest 
Nowise  exorbitantly  overworked, 
The  courtly  Christian,  not  so  much  Saint  Paul 
As  a  saint  of  Caesar's  household  :  there  posed  he 
Sending  his  god-glance  after  his  shot  shaft, 
Apollos  turned  ApoUo,  while  the  snake 


HA  LF-ROME  51 

Pompilia  writhed  transfixed  through  all  her  spires. 

He,  not  a  visitor  at  Guido's  house, 

Scarce  an  acquaintance,  but  in  prime  request 

With  the  magnates  of  Arezzo,  was  seen  here. 

Heard  there,  felt  everywhere  in  Guido's  path 

If  Guido's  wife's  path  be  her  husband's  too. 

Now  he  threw  comfits  at  the  theatre 

Into  her  lap,  —  what  harm  in  Carnival  ? 

Now  he  pressed  close  till  his  foot  touched  her  gown, 

His  hand  brushed  hers,  —  how  help  on  promenade  ? 

And,  ever  on  weighty  business,  found  his  steps 

Incline  to  a  certain  haunt  of  doubtful  fame 

Which  fronted  Guido's  palace  by  mere  chance  ; 

While  —  how  do  accidents  sometimes  combine !  — 

Pompilia  chose  to  cloister  up  her  charms 

Just  in  a  chamber  that  o'erlooked  the  street, 

Sat  there  to  pray,  or  peep  thence  at  mankind. 

This  passage  of  arms  and  wits  amused  the  town. 

At  last  the  husband  lifted  eyebrow,  —  bent 

On  day-book  and  the  study  how  to  wring 

Half  the  due  vintage  from  the  worn-out  vines 

At  the  villa,  tease  a  quarter  the  old  rent 

From  the  farmstead,  tenants  swore  would  tumble  soon,  — 

Pricked  up  his  ear  a-singing  day  and  night 

With  "ruin,  ruin  ; "  —  and  so  surprised  at  last  — 

Why,  what  else  but  a  titter  ?     Up  he  jumps. 

Back  to  mind  come  those  scratchings  at  the  grange, 

Prints  of  the  paw  about  the  outhouse  ;  rife 

In  his  head  at  once  again  are  word  and  wink, 

Mum  here  and  budget  there,  the  smell  o'  the  fox, 

The  musk  o'  the  gallant.    "  Friends,  there 's  falseness  here  I " 

The  proper  help  of  friends  in  such  a  strait 
Is  waggery,  the  world  over.     Laugh  him  free 
O'  the  regular  jealous-fit  that 's  incident 
To  all  old  husbands  that  wed  brisk  young  wives. 
And  he  '11  go  duly  docile  all  his  days. 
'  Somebody  courts  your  wife.  Count?    Where  and  when? 
How  and  why  ?     Mere  horn-madness  :  have  a  care ! 
Your  lady  loves  her  own  room,  sticks  to  it. 
Locks  herself  in  for  hours,  you  say  yourself. 
And  —  what,  it 's  Caponsacchi  means  you  harm  ? 
The  Canon  ?     We  caress  him,  he  's  the  world's, 
A  man  of  such  acceptance,  —  never  dream, 
Though  he  were  fifty  times  the  fox  you  fear. 


52  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

He  'd  risk  his  brush  for  your  particular  chick, 

When  the  wide  town  's  his  hen-roost !     Fie  o'  the  fool !  " 

So  they  dispensed  their  comfort  of  a  kind. 

Guido  at  last  cried,  "  Something  is  in  the  air, 

Under  the  earth,  some  plot  against  my  peace. 

The  trouble  of  eclipse  hangs  overhead ; 

How  it  should  come  of  that  officious  orb 

Your  Canon  in  my  system,  you  must  say : 

I  say  —  that  from  the  pressure  of  this  spring 

Began  the  chime  and  interchange  of  bells. 

Ever  one  whisper,  and  one  whisper  more. 

And  just  one  whisper  for  the  silvery  last, 

Till  all  at  once  a-row  the  bronze-throats  burst 

Into  a  larum  both  significant 

And  sinister :  stop  it  I  must  and  will. 

Let  Caponsacchi  take  his  hand  away 

From  the  wire !  —  disport  himself  in  other  paths 

Than  lead  precisely  to  my  palace-gate,  — 

Look  where  he  likes  except  one  vrindow's  way 

Where,  cheek  on  hand,  and  elbow  set  on  sUl, 

Happens  to  lean  and  say  her  litanies 

Every  day  and  all  day  long,  just  my  wife  — 

Or  wife  and  Caponsacchi  may  fare  the  worse !  " 

Admire  the  man's  simplicity.    "  I  "U  do  this, 

I  'U  not  have  that,  I  Tl  punish  and  prevent !  "  — 

'T  is  easy  saying.     But  to  a  fray,  you  see. 

Two  parties  go.     The  badger  shows  his  teeth : 

The  fox  nor  lies  down  sheep-like  nor  dares  fight. 

Oh,  the  wife  knew  the  appropriate  warfare  well. 

The  way  to  put  suspicion  to  the  blush ! 

At  first  hint  of  remonstrance,  up  and  out 

r  the  face  of  the  world,  you  found  her :  she  could  speak, 

State  her  case,  —  Franceschini  was  a  name, 

Guido  had  his  full  share  of  foes  and  friends  — 

Why  should  not  she  call  these  to  arbitrate  ? 

She  bade  the  Governor  do  governance. 

Cried  out  on  the  Archbishop,  —  why,  there  now, 

Take  him  for  sample  !     Three  successive  times 

Had  he  to  reconduct  her  by  main  force 

From  where  she  took  her  station  opposite 

His  shut  door,  —  on  the  public  steps  thereto. 

Wringing  her  hands,  when  he  came  out  to  see. 

And  shrieking  all  her  wrongs  forth  at  his  foot,  — 

Back  to  the  husband  and  the  house  she  fled  : 

Judge  if  that  husband  warmed  him  in  the  face 


HALF-ROME  53 

Of  friends  or  frowned  on  foes  as  heretofore  ! 
Judge  if  he  missed  the  natural  grin  of  folk, 
Or  lacked  the  customary  compliment 
Of  cap  and  bells,  the  luckless  husband's  fit ! 

So  it  went  on  and  on  till  —  who  was  right  ? 
One  merry  April  morning,  Guido  woke 
After  the  cuckoo,  so  late,  near  noonday. 
With  an  inordinate  yawning  of  the  jaws, 
Ears  plugged,  eyes  gummed  together,  palate,  tongue 
And  teeth  one  mud-paste  made  of  poppy-milk ; 
And  found  his  wife  flown,  his  scritoire  the  worse 
For  a  rummage,  —  jewelry  that  was,  was  not, 
Some  money  there  had  made  itself  wings  too,  — 
The  door  lay  wide  and  yet  the  servants  slept 
Sound  as  the  dead,  or  dozed  which  does  as  well. 
In  short,  Pompilia,  she  who,  candid  soul, 
Had  not  so  much  as  spoken  all  her  life 
To  the  Canon,  nay,  so  much  as  peeped  at  him 
Between  her  fingers  while  she  prayed  in  church,  — 
This  lamb-like  innocent  of  fifteen  years 
(Such  she  was  grown  to  by  this  time  of  day) 
Had  simply  put  an  opiate  in  the  drink 
Of  the  whole  household  overnight,  and  then 
Got  up  and  gone  about  her  work  secure, 
Laid  hand  on  this  waif  and  the  other  stray, 
Spoiled  the  Philistine  and  marched  out  of  doors 
In  company  of  the  Canon  who.  Lord's  love. 
What  with  his  daily  duty  at  the  church. 
Nightly  devoir  where  ladies  congregate. 
Had  something  else  to  mind,  assure  yourself, 
Beside  Pompilia,  paragon  though  she  be, 
Or  notice  if  her  nose  were  sharp  or  blunt ! 
Well,  anyhow,  albeit  impossible. 
Both  of  them  were  together  jollily 
Jaunting  it  Rome-ward,  half-way  there  by  this. 
While  Guido  was  left  go  and  get  undrugged. 
Gather  his  wits  up,  groaningly  give  thanks 
When  neighbors  crowded  round  him  to  condole. 
«  Ah,"  quoth  a  gossip,  "  well  I  mind  me  now. 
The  Count  did  always  say  he  thought  he  felt 
He  feared  as  if  this  very  chance  might  fall ! 
And  when  a  man  of  fifty  finds  his  corns 
Ache  and  his  joints  throb,  and  foresees  a  storm, 
Though  neighbors  laugh  and  say  the  sky  is  clear, 
Let  us  henceforth  believe  him  weatherwise  !  " 


54  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Then  was  the  story  told,  I  '11  cut  you  short  : 
All  neighbors  knew :  no  mystery  in  the  world. 
The  lovers  left  at  nightfall  —  overnight 
Had  Caponsacchi  come  to  carry  off 
Pompilia,  —  not  alone,  a  friend  of  his, 
One  Guillichini,  the  more  conversant 
With  Guido's  housekeeping  that  he  was  just 
A  cousin  of  Guido's  and  might  play  a  prank  — 
(Have  not  you  too  a  cousin  that 's  a  wag  ?) 
—  Lord  and  a  Canon  also,  —  what  would  you  have  ? 
Such  are  the  red-clothed  milk-swollen  poppy-heads 
That  stand  and  stiffen  'mid  the  wheat  o'  the  Church!  ■ 
This  worthy  came  to  aid,  abet  his  best. 
And  so  the  house  was  ransacked,  booty  bagged, 
The  lady  led  downstairs  and  out  of  doors 
Guided  and  guarded  tUl,  the  city  passed, 
A  carriage  lay  convenient  at  the  gate. 
Good-bye  to  the  friendly  Canon ;  the  loving  one 
Could  peradventure  do  the  rest  himself. 
In  jumps  Pompilia,  after  her  the  priest, 
"  Whip,  driver !     Money  makes  the  mare  to  go, 
And  we  've  a  bagful.     Take  the  Roman  road  !  " 
So  said  the  neighbors.     This  was  eight  hours  since. 

Guido  heard  all,  swore  the  befitting  oaths. 

Shook  off  the  relics  of  his  poison-drench. 

Got  horse,  was  fairly  started  in  pursuit 

With  never  a  friend  to  follow,  found  the  track 

Fast  enough,  't  was  the  straight  Perugia  way, 

Trod  soon  upon  their  very  heels,  too  late 

By  a  minute  only  at  Camoscia,  reached 

Chiusi,  Foligno,  ever  the  fugitives 

Just  ahead,  just  out  as  he  galloped  in, 

Getting  the  good  news  ever  fresh  and  fresh, 

Till,  lo,  at  the  last  stage  of  all,  last  post 

Before  Bome,  — as  we  say,  in  sight  of  Rome 

And  safety  (there  's  impunity  at  Rome 

For  priests,  you  know)  at  —  what 's  the  little  place  ?  - 

What  some  call  Castelnuovo,  some  just  call 

The  Osteria,  because  o'  the  post-house  inn,  — 

There,  at  the  journey's  all  but  end,  it  seems, 

Triumph  deceived  them  and  undid  them  both, 

Secure  they  might  foretaste  felicity 

Nor  fear  surprisal :  so,  they  were  surprised. 

There  did  they  halt  at  early  evening,  there 

Did  Guido  overtake  them :  't  was  daybreak ; 


HALF-ROME  66 

He  came  in  time  enough,  not  time  too  much, 
Since  in  the  courtyard  stood  the  Canon's  self 
Urging  the  drowsy  stable-grooms  to  haste 
Harness  the  horses,  have  the  journey  end. 
The  trifling  four-hours'  running,  so  reach  Rome. 
And  the  other  runaway,  the  wife  ?     Upstairs, 
Still  on  the  couch  where  she  had  spent  the  nighf^ 
One  couch  in  one  room,  and  one  room  for  both. 
So  gained  they  six  hours,  so  were  lost  thereby. 

Sir,  what 's  the  sequel  ?     Lover  and  beloved 
Fall  on  their  knees  ?     No  impudence  serves  here  ? 
They  beat  their  breasts  and  beg  for  easy  death, 
Confess  this,  that  and  the  other  ?  —  anyhow 
Confess  there  wanted  not  some  likelihood 
To  the  supposition  so  preposterous, 
That,  O  Pompiha,  thy  sequestered  eyes 
Had  noticed,  straying  o'er  the  prayer-book's  edge, 
More  of  the  Canon  than  that  black  his  coat, 
Buckled  his  shoes  were,  broad  his  hat  of  brim  : 
And  that,  O  Canon,  thy  religious  care 
Had  breathed  too  soft  a  benedieite 
To  banish  trouble  from  a  lady's  breast 
So  lonely  and  so  lovely,  nor  so  lean ! 
This  you  expect  ?     Indeed,  then,  much  you  err. 
Not  to  such  ordinary  end  as  this 
Had  Caponsacchi  flung  the  cassock  far, 
Doffed  the  priest,  donned  the  perfect  cavalier. 
The  die  was  cast :  over  shoes  over  boots : 
And  just  as  she,  I  presently  shall  show, 
Pompilia,  soon  looked  Helen  to  the  life, 
Recumbent  upstairs  in  her  pink  and  white. 
So,  in  the  inn-yard,  bold  as  't  were  Troy-town, 
There  strutted  Paris  in  correct  costume, 
Cloak,  cap  and  feather,  no  appointment  missed, 
Even  to  a  wicked-looking  sword  at  side, 
He  seemed  to  find  and  feel  familiar  at. 
Nor  wanted  words  as  ready  and  as  big 
As  the  part  he  played,  the  bold  abashless  one. 
*  I  interposed  to  save  your  wife  from  death, 
Yourself  from  shame,  the  true  and  only  shame : 
Ask  your  own  conscience  else  !  —  or,  failing  that, 
What  I  have  done  I  answer,  anywhere. 
Here,  if  you  will ;  you  see  I  have  a  sword  : 
Or,  since  I  have  a  tonsure  as  you  taunt, 
At  Rome,  by  all  means,  — priests  to  try  a  priest. 


56         THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Only,  speak  where  your  wife's  voice  can  reply !  " 

And  then  he  fingered  at  the  sword  again. 

So,  Guide  called,  in  aid  and  witness  both. 

The  Public  Force.     The  Commissary  came, 

Officers  also  ;  they  secured  the  priest ; 

Then,  for  his  more  confusion,  mounted  up 

"With  him,  a  guard  on  either  side,  the  stair 

To  the  bedroom  where  still  slept  or  feigned  a  sleep 

His  paramour  and  Guido's  wife  :  in  burst 

The  company  and  bade  her  wake  and  rise. 

Her  defence  ?    This.     She  woke,  saw,  sprang  upright 

I'  the  midst  and  stood  as  terrible  as  truth, 

Sprang  to  her  husband's  side,  caught  at  the  sword 

That  hung  there  useless,  —  since  they  held  each  hand 

O'  the  lover,  had  disarmed  him  properly,  — 

And  in  a  moment  out  flew  the  bright  thing 

Full  in  the  face  of  Guido  :  but  for  help 

O'  the  guards,  who  held  her  back  and  pinioned  her 

With  pains  enough,  she  had  finished  you  my  tale 

With  a  flourish  of  red  all  round  it,  pinked  her  man 

Prettily ;  but  she  fought  them  one  to  six. 

They  stopped  that,  —  but  her  tongue  continued  free  : 

She  spat  forth  such  invective  at  her  spouse, 

O'erfrothed  him  with  such  foam  of  murderer. 

Thief,  pandar  —  that  the  popular  tide  soon  turned, 

The  favor  of  the  very  shirri,  straight 

Ebbed  from  the  husband,  set  toward  his  wife ; 

People  cried  "  Hands  off,  pay  a  priest  respect !  " 

And  "  persecuting  fiend  "  and  "  martyred  saint " 

Began  to  lead  a  measure  from  lip  to  lip. 

But  facts  are  facts  and  flinch  not ;  stubborn  things, 
And  the  question  "  Prithee,  friend,  how  comes  my  purse 
I'  the  poke  of  you  ?  "  —  admits  of  no  reply. 
Here  was  a  priest  found  out  in  masquerade, 
A  wife  caught  playing  truant  if  no  more  ; 
While  the  Count,  mortified  in  mien  enough. 
And,  nose  to  face,  an  added  pahu  in  length, 
Was  plain  writ  "husband"  every  piece  of  him: 
Capture  once  made,  release  could  hardly  be. 
Beside,  the  prisoners  both  made  appeal, 
"  Take  us  to  Eome !  " 

Taken  to  Rome  they  were ; 
The  husband  trooping  after,  piteously. 
Tail  between  legs,  no  talk  of  triumph  now  — 


HALF-ROME  bl 

No  honor  set  firm  on  its  feet  once  more 

On  two  dead  bodies  of  the  guilty,  —  nay, 

No  dubious  salve  to  honor's  broken  pate 

Prom  chance  that,  after  all,  the  hurt  might  seem 

A  skin-deep  matter,  scratch  that  leaves  no  scar  : 

For  Guide's  first  search,  — ferreting,  poor  soul, 

Here,  there  and  everywhere  in  the  vile  place 

Abandoned  to  him  when  their  backs  were  turned. 

Found  —  furnishing  a  last  and  best  regale  — 

All  the  love-letters  bandied  'twixt  the  pair 

Since  the  first  timid  trembling  into  life 

O'  the  love-star  till  its  stand  at  fiery  full. 

Mad  prose,  mad  verse,  fears,  hopes,  triumph,  despair. 

Avowal,  disclaimer,  plans,  dates,  names,  —  was  nought 

Wanting  to  prove,  if  proof  consoles  at  all. 

That  this  had  been  but  the  fifth  act  o'  the  piece 

Whereof  the  due  proemium,  months  ago. 

These  playwrights  had  put  forth,  and  ever  since 

Matured  the  middle,  added  'neath  his  nose. 

He  might  go  cross  himself :  the  case  was  clear. 

Therefore  to  Rome  with  the  clear  case ;  there  plead 

Each  party  its  best,  and  leave  law  do  each  right, 

Let  law  shme  forth  and  show,  as  God  in  heaven, 

Vice  prostrate,  virtue  pedestalled  at  last, 

The  triumph  of  truth !     What  else  shall  glad  our  gaze 

When  once  authority  has  knit  the  brow 

And  set  the  brain  behind  it  to  decide 

Between  the  wolf  and  sheep  turned  litigants  ? 
"  This  is  indeed  a  business,"  law  shook  head  : 
"  A  husband  charges  hard  things  on  a  wife. 

The  wife  as  hard  o'  the  husband :  whose  fault  here  ? 

A  wife  that  flies  her  husband's  house,  does  wrong : 

The  male  friend's  interference  looks  amiss, 

Lends  a  suspicion  :  but  suppose  the  wife, 

On  the  other  hand,  be  jeopardized  at  home  — 

Nay,  that  she  simply  hold,  ill-groundedly. 

An  apprehension  she  is  jeopardized,  — 

And  further,  if  the  friend  partake  the  fear, 

And,  in  a  commendable  charity 

Which  trusteth  all,  trust  her  that  she  mistrusts,  — 

What  do  they  but  obey  law  —  natural  law  ? 

Pretence  may  this  be  and  a  cloak  for  sin, 

And  circumstances  that  concur  i'  the  close 

Hint  as  much,  loudly  — yet  scarce  loud  enough 

To  drown  the  answer  '  strange  may  yet  be  true ' : 


58  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Innocence  often  looks  like  guUtiness. 

The  accused  declare  that  in  thought,  word  and  deed, 

Innocent  were  they  both  from  first  to  last 

As  male-babe  haply  laid  by  female-babe 

At  church  on  edge  of  the  baptismal  font 

Together  for  a  minute,  perfect-pure. 

Difficult  to  believe,  yet  possible. 

As  witness  Joseph,  the  friend's  patron-saint. 

The  night  at  the  inn — there  charity  nigh  chokes 

Ere  swallow  what  they  both  asseverate ; 

Though  down  the  gullet  faith  may  feel  it  go, 

When  mindful  of  what  flight  fatigued  the  flesh 

Out  of  its  faculty  and  fleshliness, 

Subdued  it  to  the  soul,  as  saints  assure : 

So  long  a  flight  necessitates  a  fall 

On  the  first  bed,  though  in  a  lion's  den. 

And  the  first  pillow,  though  the  lion's  back  : 

Difficult  to  believe,  yet  possible. 

Last  come  the  letters'  bundled  beastliness  — 

Authority  repugns  give  glance  to  —  nay. 

Turns  head,  and  almost  lets  her  whip-lash  fall ; 

Yet  here  a  voice  cries  '  Respite  ! '  from  the  clouds  — 

The  accused,  both  in  a  tale,  protest,  disclaim. 

Abominate  the  horror :   '  Not  my  hand ' 

Asserts  the  friend  —  '  Nor  mine  '  chimes  in  the  wife, 

'  Seeing  I  have  no  hand,  nor  write  at  all.' 
Illiterate  —  for  she  goes  on  to  ask. 
What  if  the  friend  did  pen  now  verse  now  prose, 

'  Commend  it  to  her  notice  now  and  then  ? 
'T  was  pearls  to  swine  :  she  read  no  more  than  wrote. 
And  kept  no  more  than  read,  for  as  they  fell 
She  ever  brushed  the  burr-like  things  away. 
Or,  better,  burned  them,  quenched  the  fire  in  smoke. 
As  for  this  fardel,  filth  and  foolishness, 
She  sees  it  now  the  first  time  :  burn  it  too ! 
While  for  his  part  the  friend  vows  ignorance 
Alike  of  what  bears  his  name  and  bears  hers  : 
'T  is  forgery,  a  felon's  masterpiece. 
And,  as  't  is  said  the  fox  stiU  finds  the  stench. 
Home-manufacture  and  the  husband's  work. 
Though  he  confesses,  the  ingenuous  friend. 
That  certain  missives,  letters  of  a  sort. 
Flighty'  and  feeble,  which  assigned  themselves 
To  the  wife,  no  less  have  fallen,  far  too  oft, 
In  his  path :  wheref rom  he  understood  just  this  — 
That  were  they  verily  the  lady's  own, 


HALF-ROME  69 

Why,  she  who  penned  them,  since  he  never  saw 
Save  for  one  minute  the  mere  face  of  her, 
Since  never  had  there  heen  the  interchange 
Of  word  with  word  between  them  all  their  life, 
Why,  she  must  be  the  fondest  of  the  frail. 
And  fit,  she  for  the  '  apage '  he  flung, 
Her  letters  for  the  flame  they  went  to  feed ! 
But,  now  he  sees  her  face  and  hears  her  speech; 
Much  he  repents  him  if,  in  fancy-freak 
For  a  moment  the  minutest  measurable. 
He  coupled  her  with  the  first  flimsy  word 
O'  the  self-spun  fabric  some  mean  spider-soul 
Furnished  forth :  stop  his  films  and  stamp  on  him  I 
Never  was  such  a  tangled  knottiness, 
But  thus  authority  cuts  the  Gordian  through, 
And  mark  how  her  decision  suits  the  need  ! 
Here 's  troublesomeness,  scandal  on  both  sides, 
Plenty  of  fault  to  find,  no  absolute  crime : 
Let  each  side  own  its  fault  and  make  amends ! 
What  does  a  priest  in  cavalier's  attire 
Consorting  publicly  with  vagrant  wives 
In  quarters  close  as  the  confessional. 
Though  innocent  of  harm  ?     'T  is  harm  enough : 
Let  biTTi  pay  it,  —  say,  be  relegate  a  good 
Three  years,  to  spend  in  some  place  not  too  far 
Nor  yet  too  near,  midway  'twixt  near  and  far, 
Rome  and  Arezzo,  —  Civita  we  choose, 
Where  he  may  lounge  away  time,  live  at  large, 
Find  out  the  proper  function  of  a  priest. 
Nowise  an  exjle,  —  that  were  punishment,  — 
But  one  our  love  thus  keeps  out  of  harm's  way 
Not  more  from  the  husband's  anger  than,  mayhap, 
His  own  .  .  .  say,  indiscretion,  waywardness, 
And  wanderings  when  Easter  eves  grow  warm. 
For  the  wife,  — well,  our  best  step  to  take  with  her, 
On  her  own  showing,  were  to  shift  her  root 
From  the  old  colct  shade  and  unhappy  soU 
Into  a  generous  ground  that  fronts  the  south : 
Where,  since  her  callow  soul,  a-shiver  late, 
Craved  simply  warmth  and  called  mere  passers-by 
To  the  rescue,  she  should  have  her  fill  of  shine. 
Do  house  and  husband  hinder  and  not  help  ? 
Why  then,  forget  both  and  stay  here  at  peace, 
Come  into  our  community,  enroll 
Herself  along  with  those  good  Convertites, 
Those  sinners  saved,  those  Magdalens  re-made, 


60  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Accept  their  ministration,  well  bestow 
Her  body  and  patiently  possess  her  soul, 
Until  we  see  what  better  can  be  done. 
Last  for  the  husband :  if  his  tale  prove  true, 
Well  is  he  rid  of  two  domestic  plagues  — 
Both  wife  that  ailed,  do  whatsoever  he  would. 
And  friend  of  hers  that  undeiAook  the  cure. 
See,  what  a  double  load  we  lift  from  breast ! 
Off  he  may  go,  return,  resume  old  life. 
Laugh  at  the  priest  here  and  Pompilia  there 
In  limbo  each  and  punished  for  their  pains, 
And  grateful  tell  the  inquiring  neighborhood  — 
In  Eome,  no  wrong  but  has  its  remedy." 
The  case  was  closed.     Now,  am  I  fair  or  no 
In  what  I  utter  ?     Do  I  state  the  facts, 
Having  f orechosen  a  side  ?     I  promised  you ! 

The  Canon  Caponsacchi,  then,  was  sent 
To  change  his  garb,  re-trim  his  tonsure,  tie 
The  clerkly  silk  round,  every  plait  correct, 
Make  the  impressive  entry  on  his  place 
Of  relegation,  thriU  his  Civita, 
As  Ovid,  a  Uke  sufEerer  in  the  cause. 
Planted  a  primrose-patch  by  Pontus  :  where, — 
What  with  much  culture  of  the  sonnet-stave 
And  converse  with  the  aborigines, 
Soft  savagery  of  eyes  unused  to  roll, 
And  hearts  that  all  awry  went  pit-a-pat 
And  wanted  setting  right  in  charity,  — 
What  were  a  couple  of  years  to  while  away  ? 
Pompilia,  as  enjoined,  betook  herself 
To  the  aforesaid  Convertites,  soft  sisterhood 
In  Via  Lungara,  where  the  light  ones  live, 
Spin,  pray,  then  sing  like  linnets  o'er  the  flax. 
"  Anywhere,  anyhow,  out  of  my  husband's  house 
Is  heaven,"  cried  she, — was  therefore  suited  so. 
But  for  Count  Guido  Franceschini,  he  — 
The  injured  man  thus  righted  —  found  no  heaven 
r  the  house  when  he  returned  there,  I  engage. 
Was  welcomed  by  the  city  turned  upside  down 
In  a  chorus  of  inquiry.     "  What,  back  —  you.'' 
And  no  wife  ?     Left  her  with  the  Penitents  ? 
Ah,  being  young  and  pretty,  't  were  a  shame 
To  have  her  whipped  in  public :  leave  the  job 
To  the  priests  who  understand  !     Such  priests  as  yours  ■ 
(Pontifex  Maximus  whipped  Vestals  once} 


HALF-ROME  61 

Our  madcap  Caponsacchi :  think  of  him  ! 

So,  he  fired  up,  showed  fight  and  skill  of  fence  ? 

Ay,  you  drew  also,  but  you  did  not  fight ! 

The  wiser,  't  is  a  word  and  a  blow  with  him, 

True  Caponsacchi,  of  old  Head-i'-the-Sack 

That  fought  at  Fiesole  ere  Florence  was : 

He  had  done  enough,  to  firk  you  were  too  much. 

And  did  the  little  lady  menace  you, 

Make  at  your  breast  with  your  own  harmless  sword  ? 

The  spitfire !     Well,  thank  God  you  're  safe  and  sound, 

Have  kept  the  sixth  commandment  whether  or  no 

The  lady  broke  the  seventh  :  I  only  wish 

I  were  as  saint-like,  could  contain  me  so. 

I,  the  poor  sinner,  fear  I  should  have  left 

Sir  Priest  no  nose-tip  to  turn  up  at  me  !  " 

You,  Sir,  who  listen  but  interpose  no  word, 

Ask  yourself,  had  you  borne  a  baiting  thus  ? 

Was  it  enough  to  make  a  wise  man  mad  ? 

Oh,  but  I  'U  have  your  verdict  at  the  end ! 

Well,  not  enough,  it  seems  :   such  mere  hurt  falls, 

Frets  awhile,  aches  long,  then  grows  less  and  less. 

And  so  gets  done  with.     Such  was  not  the  scheme 

O'  the  pleasant  Comparini :  on  Guido's  wound 

Ever  in  due  succession,  drop  by  drop, 

Came  slow  distilment  from  the  alembic  here 

Set  on  to  simmer  by  Canidian  hate. 

Corrosives  keeping  the  man's  misery  raw. 

First  fire-drop,  —  when  he  thought  to  make  the  best 

O'  the  bad,  to  wring  from  out  the  sentence  passed. 

Poor,  pitiful,  absurd  although  it  were. 

Yet  what  might  eke  him  out  result  enough 

And  make  it  worth  while  to  have  had  the  light 

And  not  the  wrong  i'  the  matter  judged  at  Borne. 

Inadequate  her  punishment,  no  less 

Punished  in  some  slight  sort  his  wife  had  been  ; 

Then,  punished  for  adultery,  what  else  ? 

On  such  admitted  crime  he  thought  to  seize. 

And  institute  procedure  in  the  courts 

Which  cut  corruption  of  this  kind  from  man. 

Cast  loose  a  wife  proved  loose  and  castaway : 

He  claimed  in  due  form  a  divorce  at  least. 

This  claim  was  met  now  by  a  counterclaim  : 
Pompilia  sought  divorce  from  bed  and  board 
Of  Guido,  whose  outrageous  cruelty. 


62  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Whose  mother's  malice  and  whose  brother's  hate 

Were  just  the  white  o'  the  charge,  such  dreadful  deptlis 

Blackened  its  centre,  —  hints  of  worse  than  hate, 

Love  from  that  brother,  by  that  Guide's  guile, 

That  mother's  prompting.     Such  reply  was  made, 

So  was  the  engine  loaded,  wound  up,  sprung 

On  Guide,  who  received  bolt  full  in  breast ; 

But  no  less  bore  up,  giddily  perhaps. 

He  had  the  Abate  Paolo  stiU  in  Rome, 

Brother  and  friend  and  fighter  on  his  side : 

They  rallied  in  a  measure,  met  the  foe 

Manlike,  joined  battle  in  the  public  courts. 

As  if  to  shame  supine  law  from  her  sloth : 

And  waiting  her  award,  let  beat  the  while 

Arezzo's  banter,  Rome's  buffoonery. 

On  this  ear  and  on  that  ear,  deaf  alike. 

Safe  from  worse  outrage.     Let  a  scorpion  nip, 

And  never  mind  tUl  he  contorts  his  tail ! 

But  there  was  sting  i'  the  creature  ;  thus  it  struck. 

Guide  had  thought  in  his  simplicity  — 

That  lying  declaration  of  remorse, 

That  story  of  the  child  which  was  no  child 

And  motherhood  no  motherhood  at  aU, 

—  That  even  this  sin  might  have  its  sort  of  good 

Inasmuch  as  no  question  more  could  be,  — 

Call  it  false,  call  the  story  true,  —  no  claim 

Of  further  parentage  pretended  now  : 

The  parents  had  abjured  all  right,  at  least, 

I'  the  woman  owned  his  wife  :  to  plead  right  still 

Were  to  declare  the  abjuration  false  : 

He  was  relieved  from  any  fear  henceforth 

Their  hands  might  touch,  their  breath  defile  again 

Pompilia  with  his  name  upon  her  yet. 

Well,  no :  the  next  news  was.  Pompilia's  health 

Demanded  change  after  full  three  long  weeks 

Spent  in  devotion  with  the  Sisterhood,  — 

Which  rendered  sojourn  —  so  the  court  opined  — 

Too  irksome,  since  the  convent's  walls  were  high 

And  windows  narrow,  nor  was  air  enough 

Nor  light  enough,  but  aJl  looked  prison-like. 

The  last  thing  which  had  come  in  the  court's  head* 

Propose  a  new  expedient  therefore,  —  this  ! 

She  had  demanded  —  had  obtained  indeed, 

By  intervention  of  her  pitying  friends 

Or  perhaps  lovers  —  (beauty  in  distress, 

Beauty  whose  tale  is  the  town-talk  beside, 


HALF-ROME  63 

Never  lacks  friendship's  arm  about  her  neck)  — 

Obtained  remission  of  the  penalty, 

Permitted  transfer  to  some  private  place 

Where  better  air,  more  light,  new  food  might  soothe  — 

Incarcerated  (call  it,  all  the  same) 

At  some  sure  friend's  house  she  must  keep  inside, 

Be  found  in  at  requirement  fast  enough,  — 

Domjus  pro  carcere,  in  Boman  style. 

You  keep  the  house  i'  the  main,  as  most  men  do 

And  all  good  women :  but  free  otherwise. 

Should  friends  arrive,  to  lodge  them  and  what  not  ? 

And  such  a  domum,  such  a  dwelling-place. 

Having  all  Rome  to  choose  from,  where  chose  she  ? 

What  house  obtained  Pompilia's  preference  ? 

Why,  just  the  Comparini's  —  just,  do  you  mark, 

Theirs  who  renounced  all  part  and  lot  in  her 

So  long  as  Guide  could  be  robbed  thereby, 

And  only  fell  back  on  relationship 

And  found  their  daughter  safe  and  sound  again 

When  that  might  surelier  stab-  him  :  yes,  the  pair 

Who,  as  I  told  you,  first  had  baited  hook 

With  this  poor  gilded  fly  PompUia-thing, 

Then  caught  the  fish,  pulled  Guido  to  the  shore 

And  gutted  him,  —  now  found  a  further  use 

For  the  bait,  would  trail  the  gauze  wings  yet  again 

I'  the  way  of  what  new  swimmer  passed  their  stand. 

They  took  PompUia  to  their  hiding-place  — 

Not  in  the  heart  of  Rome  as  formerly, 

Under  observance,  subject  to  control  — 

But  out  o'  the  way,  —  or  in  the  way,  who  knows  ? 

That  blind  mute  villa  lurking  by  the  gate 

At  Via  Paulina,  not  so  hard  to  miss 

By  the  honest  eye,  easy  enough  to  find 

In  twilight  by  marauders  :  where  perchance 

Some  muffled  Caponsacchi  might  repair, 

Employ  odd  moments  when  he  too  tried  change, 

Found  that  a  friend's  abode  was  pleasanter 

Than  relegation,  penance  and  the  rest. 

Come,  here 's  the  last  drop  does  its  worst  to  wound, 
Here  's  Guido  poisoned  to  the  bone,  you  say, 
Your  boasted  still's  full  strain  and  strength  :  not  so ! 
One  master-squeeze  from  screw  shall  bring  to  birth 
The  hoard  i'  the  heart  o'  the  toad,  hell's  quintessence. 
He  learned  the  true  convenience  of  the  change, 
And  why  a  convent  lacks  the  cheerful  hearts 


64  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  helpful  hands  which  female  straits  require, 

When,  in  the  blind  mute  viUa  by  the  gate, 

Pompilia  —  what  ?  sang,  danced,  saw  company  ? 

—  Gave  birth,  Sir,  to  a  chUd,  his  son  and  heir. 

Or  Guido's  heir  and  Caponsacchi's  son. 

I  want  your  word  now  :  what  do  you  say  to  this  ? 

What  would  say  little  Arezzo  and  great  Borne, 

And  what  did  God  say  and  the  devU  say 

One  at  each  ear  o'  the  man,  the  husband,  now 

The  father  ?     Why,  the  overburdened  mind 

Broke  down,  what  was  a  brain  became  a  blaze. 

In  fury  of  the  moment  —  (that  first  news 

Fell  on  the  Count  among  his  vines,  it  seems, 

Doing  his  farm-work,)  —  why,  he  summoned  steward, 

Called  in  the  first  four  hard  hands  and  stout  hearts 

From  field  and  furrow,  poured  forth  his  appeal. 

Not  to  Rome's  law  and  gospel  any  more. 

But  this  clown  with  a  mother  or  a  wife. 

That  clodpole  with  a  sister  or  a  son : 

And,  whereas  law  and  gospel  held  their  peace. 

What  wonder  if  the  sticks  and  stones  cried  out  ? 

All  five  soon  somehow  found  themselves  at  Rome, 
At  the  vUla  door  :  there  was  the  warmth  and  light  — 
The  sense  of  life  so  just  an  inch  inside  — 
Some  angel  must  have  whispered  "  One  more  chance  !  " 

He  gave  it :  bade  the  others  stand  aside : 

Knocked  at  the  door,  —  "  Who  is  it  knocks  ?  "  cried  one. 

"  I  will  make,"  surely  Guido's  angel  urged, 

"  One  final  essay,  last  experiment, 
Speak  the  word,  name  the  name  from  out  aU  names, 
Which,  if,  —  as  doubtless  strong  illusions  are, 
And  strange  disguisings  whereby  truth  seems  false. 
And,  since  I  am  but  man,  I  dare  not  do 
God's  work  until  assured  I  see  with  God,  — 
If  I  should  bring  my  lips  to  breathe  that  name 
And  they  be  innocent,  —  nay,  by  one  mere  touch 
Of  innocence  redeemed  from  utter  guilt,  — 
That  name  will  bar  the  door  and  bid  fate  pass. 
I  will  not  say  '  It  is  a  messenger, 
A  neighbor,  even  a  belated  man. 

Much  less  your  husband's  friend,  your  husband's  self : ' 
At  such  appeal  the  door  is  bound  to  ope. 
But  I  will  say  "  —  here 's  rhetoric  and  to  spare  ! 
Why,  Sir,  the  stumbling-block  is  cursed  and  kicked. 


HALF-ROME  65 

Block  though,  it  be ;  the  name  that  brought  offence 
Will  bring  ofBence  :  the  burnt  child  dreads  the  fire 
Although  that  fire  feed  on  some  taper-wick 
Which  never  left  the  altar  nor  singed  a  fly : 
And  had  a  harmless  man  tripped  you  by  chance, 
How  would  you  wait  him,  stand  or  step  aside. 
When  next  you  heard  he  rolled  your  way  ?     Enough. 

"  Giuseppe  Caponsacchi  !  "  Guido  cried  ; 
And  open  flew  the  door :  enough  again. 
Vengeance,  you  know,  burst,  like  a  mountain-wave 
That  holds  a  monster  in  it,  over  the  house. 
And  wiped  its  filthy  four  walls  free  at  last 
With  a  wash  of  hell-fire,  —  father,  mother,  wife. 
Killed  them  all,  bathed  his  name  clean  in  their  blood, 
And,  reeking  so,  was  caught,  his  friends  and  he. 
Haled  hither  and  imprisoned  yesternight 
O'  the  day  all  this  was. 

Now,  Sir,  tale  is  told, 
Of  how  the  old  couple  come  to  lie  in  state 
Though  hacked  to  pieces,  —  never,  the  expert  say, 
So  thorough  a  study  of  stabbing  —  while  the  wife 
(Viper-like,  very  difficult  to  slay) 
Writhes  stUl  through  every  ring  of  her,  poor  wretch, 
At  the  Hospital  hard  by  —  survives,  we  '11  hope, 
To  somewhat  purify  her  putrid  soul 
By  full  confession,  make  so  much  amends 
While  time  lasts  ;  since  at  day's  end  die  she  must 

For  Caponsacchi,  —  why,  they  '11  have  him  here, 
As  hero  of  the  adventure,  who  so  fit 
To  figure  in  the  coming  Carnival  ? 
'T  will  make  the  fortune  of  whate'er  saloon 
Hears  him  recount,  with  helpful  cheek,  and  eye 
Hotly  indignant  now,  now  dewy-dimmed. 
The  incidents  of  flight,  pursuit,  surprise. 
Capture,  with  hints  of  kisses  all  between  — 
While  Guide,  wholly  unromantic  spouse. 
No  longer  fit  to  laugh  at  since  the  blood 
Gave  the  broad  farce  an  all  too  brutal  air, 
Why,  he  and  those  four  luckless  friends  of  his 
May  tumble  in  the  straw  this  bitter  day  — 
Laid  by  the  heels  i'  the  New  Prison,  1  hear. 
To  bide  their  trial,  since  trial,  and  for  the  life, 
Follows  if  but  for  form's  sake  :  yes,  indeed  ! 


66         THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

But  with  a  certain  issue  :  no  dispute, 
"  Try  him,"  bids  law  :  formalities  oblige  : 
But  as  to  the  issue,  —  look  me  in  the  face !  — 
If  the  law  thinks  to  find  them  guilty,  Sir, 
Master  or  men  —  touch  one  hair  of  the  five, 
Then  I  say  in  the  name  of  all  that 's  left 
Of  honor  in  Rome,  civility  i'  the  world 
Whereof  Rome  boasts  herself  the  central  source,  — 
There 's  an  end  to  all  hope  of  justice  more. 
AstrsBa  's  gone  indeed,  let  hope  go  too  ! 
"Who  is  it  dares  impugn  the  natural  law, 
Deny  God's  word  "  the  faithless  wife  shall  die  "  ? 
What,  are  we  blind  ?     How  can  we  fail  to  learn 
This  crowd  of  miseries  make  the  man  a  mark, 
Accumulate  on  one  devoted  head 
For  our  example  ?  —  yours  and  mine  who  read 
Its  lesson  thus  —  "  Henceforward  let  none  dare 
Stand,  like  a  natural  in  the  public  way, 
Letting  the  very  urchins  twitch  his  beard 
And  tweak  his  nose,  to  earn  a  nickname  so, 
Be  styled  male-Grissel  or  else  modern  Job  !  " 
Had  Guido,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye, 
Summed  up  the  reckoning,  promptly  paid  himself, 
That  morning  when  he  came  up  with  the  pair 
At  the  wayside  inn,  —  exacted  his  just  debt 
By  aid  of  what  first  mattock,  pitchfork,  axe 
Came  to  haiid  in  the  helpful  stable-yard. 
And  with  that  axe,  if  providence  so  pleased, 
Cloven  each  head,  by  some  Rolando-stroke, 
In  one  clean  cut  from  crown  to  clavicle, 
—  Slain  the  priest-gaUant,  the  wife-paramour, 
Sticking,  for  all  defence,  in  each  skull's  cleft 
The  rhyme  and  reason  of  the  stroke  thus  dealt. 
To  wit,  those  letters  and  last  evidence 
Of  shame,  each  package  in  its  proper  place,  — 
Bidding,  who  pitied,  undistend  the  skulls,  — 
I  say,  the  world  had  praised  the  man.     But  no ! 
That  were  too  plain,  too  straight,  too  simply  just ! 
He  hesitates,  calls  law  forsooth  to  help. 
And  law,  distasteful  to  who  calls  in  law 
When  honor  is  beforehand  and  would  serve, 
What  wonder  if  law  hesitate  in  turn, 
Plead  her  disuse  to  calls  o'  the  kind,  reply 
(Smiling  a  little),  "  'T  is  yourself  assess 
The  worth  of  what 's  lost,  sum  of  damage  done. 
What  you  touched  with  so  light  a  finger-tip. 


HALF-ROME  67 

You  whose  concern  it  was  to  grasp  the  thing, 

Why  must  law  gird  herself  and  grapple  with  ? 

Law,  alien  to  the  actor  whose  warm  blood 

Asks  heat  from  law  whose  veins  run  lukewarm  milk,  — 

What  you  dealt  lightly  with,  shall  law  make  out 

Heinous  forsooth  ?  " 

Sir,  what 's  the  good  of  law 
In  a  case  o'  the  kind  ?     None,  as  she  all  but  says. 
Call  in  law  when  a  neighbor  breaks  your  fence, 
Cribs  from  your  field,  tampers  with  rent  or  lease. 
Touches  the  purse  or  pocket,  —  but  wooes  your  wife  ? 
No :  take  the  old  way  trod  when  men  were  men  ! 
Guido  preferred  the  new  path,  —  for  his  pains. 
Stuck  in  a  quagmire,  floundered  worse  and  worse 
Until  he  managed  somehow  scramble  back 
Into  the  safe  sure  rutted  road  once  more, 
Revenged  his  own  wrong  like  a  gentleman. 
Once  back  'mid  the  familiar  prints,  no  doubt 
He  made  too  rash  amends  for  his  first  fault, 
Vaulted  too  loftily  over  what  barred  him  late, 
And  lit  i'  the  mire  again,  —  the  common  chance, 
The  natural  over-energy  :  the  deed 
Maladroit  yields  three  deaths  instead  of  one. 
And  one  life  left :  for  where  's  the  Canon's  corpse  ? 
All  which  is  the  worse  for  Guido,  but,  be  frank  — 
The  better  for  you  and  me  and  all  the  world. 
Husbands  of  wives,  especially  in  Rome. 
The  thing  is  put  right,  in  the  old  place,  —  ay, 
The  rod  hangs  on  its  nail  behind  the  door. 
Fresh  from  the  brine  :  a  matter  I  commend 
To  the  notice,  during  Carnival  that 's  near, 
Of  a  certain  what's-his-name  and  jackanapes 
Somewhat  too  civil  of  eves  with  lute  and  song 
About  a  house  here,  where  I  keep  a  wife. 
(.You,  being  his  cousin,  may  go  tell  him  so.) 


in. 

THE  OTHER  HALF-ROME. 

Another  day  that  finds  her  living  yet, 

Little  Pompiiia,  with  the  patient  brow 

And  lamentable  smile  on  those  poor  lips, 

And,  under  the  white  hospital-array, 

A  flower-like  body,  to  frighten  at  a  bruise 

You  'd  think,  yet  now,  stabbed  through  and  through  again, 

Alive  i'  the  ruins.     'T  is  a  miracle. 

It  seems  that,  when  her  husband  struck  her  first, 

She  prayed  Madonna  just  that  she  might  live 

So  long  as  to  confess  and  be  absolved  ; 

And  whether  it  was  that,  all  her  sad  life  long 

Never  before  successful  in  a  prayer. 

This  prayer  rose  with  authority  too  dread,  — 

Or  whether,  because  earth  was  hell  to  her, 

By  compensation,  when  the  blackness  broke 

She  got  one  glimpse  of  quiet  and  the  cool  blue, 

To  show  her  for  a  moment  such  things  were,  — 

Or  else,  —  as  the  Augustinian  Brother  thinks. 

The  friar  who  took  confession  from  her  lip,  — 

When  a  probationary  soul  that  moved 

From  nobleness  to  nobleness,  as  she. 

Over  the  rough  way  of  the  world,  succumbs. 

Bloodies  its  last  thorn  with  unflinching  foot. 

The  angels  love  to  do  their  work  betimes, 

Stanch  some  wounds  here  nor  leave  so  much  for  God. 

Who  knows  ?     However  it  be,  confessed,  absolved, 

She  lies,  with  overplus  of  life  beside 

To  speak  and  right  herself  from  first  to  last. 

Right  the  friend  also,  lamb-pure,  lion-brave, 

Care  for  the  boy's  concerns,  to  save  the  son 

From  the  sire,  her  two-weeks'  infant  orphaned  thus, 

And  —  with  best  smile  of  all  reserved  for  him  — 

Pardon  that  sire  and  husband  from  the  heart. 

A  miracle,  so  teU  your  Molinists  ! 

There  she  lies  in  the  long  white  lazar-house. 
Rome  has  besieged,  these  two  days,  never  doubt. 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME 

Saint  Anna's  where  she  waits  her  death,  to  hear 

Though  but  the  chink  o'  the  bell,  turn  o'  the  hinge 

When  the  reluctant  wicket  opes  at  last, 

Lets  in,  on  now  this  and  now  that  pretence. 

Too  many  by  half,  —  complain  the  men  of  art,  — 

For  a  patient  in  such  plight.     The  lawyers  first 

Paid  the  due  visit  — justice  must  be  done ; 

They  took  her  witness,  why  the  murder  was. 

Then  the  priests  followed  properly,  —  a  soul 

To  shrive  ;  't  was  Brother  Celestiue's  own  right. 

The  same  who  noises  thus  her  gifts  abroad. 

But  many  more,  who  found  they  were  old  friends, 

Pushed  in  to  have  their  stare  and  take  their  talk 

And  go  forth  boasting  of  it  and  to  boast. 

Old  Monna  Baldi  chatters  like  a  jay, 

Swears  —  but  that,  prematurely  trundled  out 

Just  as  she  felt  the  benefit  begin, 

The  miracle  was  snapped  up  by  somebody,  — 

Her  palsied  limb  'gan  prick  and  promise  life 

At  touch  o'  the  bedclothes  merely,  —  how  much  more 

Had  she  but  brushed  the  body  as  she  tried ! 

Cavalier  Carlo  —  well,  there  's  some  excuse 

For  him  —  Maratta  who  paints  Virgins  so  — 

He  too  must  fee  the  porter  and  slip  by 

With  pencil  cut  and  paper  squared,  and  straight 

There  was  he  figuring  away  at  face  : 

"  A  lovelier  face  is  not  in  Rome,"  cried  he, 

"  Shaped  like  a  peacock's  egg,  the  pure  as  pearl, 
That  hatches  you  anon  a  snow-white  chick." 
Then,  oh  that  pair  of  eyes,  that  pendent  hair. 
Black  this  and  black  the  other  !     Mighty  fine  -^ 
But  nobody  cared  ask  to  paint  the  same. 
Nor  grew  a  poet  over  hair  and  eyes 
Four  little  years  ago,  when,  ask  and  have, 
The  woman  who  wakes  all  this  rapture  leaned 
Flower-like  from  out  her  window  long  enough, 

^   As  much  uncomplimented  as  uncropped 
By  comers  and  goers  in  Via  Vittoria :  eh  ? 
'T  is  just  a  flower's  fate  :  past  parterre  we  trip, 
TiU  peradventure  some  one  plucks  our  sleeve  — 

"Yon  blossom  at  the  brier's  end,  that''s  the  rose 
Two  jealous  people  fought  for  yesterday 
And  killed  each  other  :  see,  there 's  undisturbed 
A  pretty  pool  at  the  root,  of  rival  red  !  " 
Then  cry  we,  "  Ah,  the  perfect  paragon !  " 
Then  crave  we  "  Just  one  keepsake-leaf  for  us !  " 


70  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Truth  lies  between :  there 's  anyhow  a  child 
Of  seventeen  years,  whether  a  flower  or  weed, 
Buined  :  who  did  it  shall  account  to  Christ  — 
Having  no  pity  on  the  harmless  life 
And  gentle  face  and  girlish  form  he  found, 
And  thus  flings  back.     Go  practise  it  you  please 
With  men  and  women :  leave  a  child  adone 
For  Christ's  particular  love's  sake  !  —  so  I  say. 

Somebody,  at  the  bedside,  said  much  more. 
Took  on  him  to  explain  the  secret  cause 
O'  the  crime  :  quoth  he,  "  Such  crimes  are  very  rife, 
Explode  nor  make  us  wonder  nowadays. 
Seeing  that  Antichrist  disseminates 
That  doctrine  of  the  Philosophic  Sin  : 
Molinos'  sect  will  soon  make  earth  too  hot !  " 
"  Nay,"  groaned  the  Augustinian,  "  what 's  there  new  ? 
Crime  will  not  fail  to  flare  up  from  men's  hearts 
While  hearts  are  men's  and  so  bom  criminal ; 
Which  one  fact,  always  old  yet  ever  new, 
Accounts  for  so  much  crime  that,  for  my  part, 
Molinos  may  go  whistle  to  the  wind 
That  waits  outside  a  certain  church,  you  know !  " 

Though  really  it  does  seem  as  it  she  here, 

Pompilia,  living  so  and  dying  thus, 

Has  had  undue  experience  how  much  crime 

A  heart  can  hatch.     Why  was  she  made  to  learn 

—  Not  you,  not  I,  not  even  Molinos'  self  — 

What  Guido  Franceschini's  heart  could  hold  ? 

Thus  saintship  is  effected  probably ; 

No  sparing  saints  the  process  !  —  which  the  more 

Tends  to  the  reconciling  us,  no  saints, 

To  sinnership,  immunity  and  aU. 

For  see  now  :  Pietro  and  Violante's  life 

Till  seventeen  years  ago,  all  Rome  might  note 

And  quote  for  happy  —  see  the  signs  distinct 

Of  happiness  as  we  yon  Triton's  trump. 

What  could  they  be  but  happy  ?  —  balanced  so,    . 

Nor  low  i'  the  social  scale  nor  yet  too  high, 

Nor  poor  nor  richer  than  comports  with  ease, 

Nor  bright  and  envied,  nor  obscure  and  scorned, 

Nor  so  young  that  their  pleasures  fell  too  thick, 

Nor  old  past  catching  pleasure  when  it  fell. 

Nothing  above,  below  the  just  degree. 


THE   OTHER   HALF-ROME  71 

All  at  tlie  mean  where  joy's  componente  mix. 

So  again,  in  the  couple's  very  souls 

You  saw  the  adequate  half  with  half  to  match, 

Each  having  and  each  lacking  somewhat,  both 

Making  a  whole  that  had  all  and  lacked  nought. 

The  round  and  sound,  in  whose  composure  just 

The  acquiescent  and  recipient  side 

Was  Pietro's,  and  the  stirring  striving  one 

Violante's :  both  in  union  gave  the  due 

Quietude,  enterprise,  craving  and  content, 

Which  go  to  bodily  health  and  peace  of  mind. 

But,  as  't  is  said  a  body,  rightly  mixed, 

Each  element  in  equipoise,  would  last 

Too  long  and  live  forever,  —  accordingly 

Holds  a  germ  —  sand-grain  weight  too  much  i'  the  scale  — 

Ordained  to  get  predominance  one  day 

And  so  bring  all  to  ruin  and  release,  — 

Not  otherwise  a  fatal  germ  lurked  here  :  • 
"  With  mortals  much  must  go,  but  something  stays ; 

Nothing  wiU  stay  of  our  so  happy  selves." 

Out  of  the  very  ripeness  of  life's  core 

A  worm  was  bred  —  "  Our  life  shall  leave  no  fruit." 

Enough  of  bliss,  they  thought,  could  bliss  bear  seed, 

Yield  its  like,  propagate  a  bliss  in  turn 

And  keep  the  kind  up  ;  not  supplant  themselves 

But  put  in  evidence,  record  they  were, 

Show  them,  when  done  with,  i'  the  shape  of  a  child. 
"  'T  is  in  a  chUd,  man  and  wife  grow  complete. 

One  flesh :  God  says  so  :  let  him  do  his  work !  " 

Now,  one  reminder  of  this  gnawing  want. 
One  special  prick  o'  the  maggot  at  the  core, 
Always  befell  when,  as  the  day  came  round, 
A  certain  yearly  sum,  —  our  Pietro  being. 
As  the  long  name  runs,  an  usufructuary,  — 
Dropped  in  the  common  bag  as  interest 
Of  money,  his  till  death,  not  afterward, 
Failing  an  heir :  an  heir  would  take  and  take, 
A  child  of  theirs  be  wealthy  in  their  place 
To  noJ)ody's  hurt  —  the  stranger  else  seized  all. 
Prosperity  rolled  river-like  and  stopped. 
Making  their  mill  go ;  but  when  wheel  wore  out, 
The  wave  would  find  a  space  and  sweep  on  free 
And,  half-a-mile  off,  grind  some  neighbor's  corn. 

Adam-like,  Pietro  sighed  and  said  no  more : 
Eve  saw  the  apple  was  fair  and  good  to  taste. 


72         THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

So,  plucked  it,  having  asked  the  snake  advice. 

She  told  her  husband  God  was  merciful, 

And  his  and  her  prayer  granted  at  the  last : 

Let  the  old  mill-stone  moulder,  —  wheel  unworn, 

Quartz  from  the  quarry,  shot  into  the  stream 

Adroitly,  as  before  should  go  bring  grist  — 

Their  house  continued  to  them  by  an  heir, 

Their  vacant  heart  replenished  with  a  child. 

We  have  her  own  conJEession  at  full  length 

Made  in  the  first  remorse :  't  was  Jubilee 

Pealed  in  the  ear  o'  the  conscience  and  it  woke. 

She  found  she  had  offended  God  no  doubt. 

So  much  was  plain  from  what  had  happened  since. 

Misfortune  on  misfortune ;  but  she  harmed 

No  one  i'  the  world,  so  far  as  she  could  see. 

The  act  had  gladdened  Pietro  to  the  height. 

Her  spouse  whom  Grod  himself  must  gladden  so 

Or  not  at  all :  thus  much  seems  probable 

From  the  implicit  faith,  or  rather  say 

Stupid  creduUty  of  the  foolish  man 

Who  swallowed  such  a  tale  nor  strained  a  whit 

Even  at  his  wife's  far-over-fifty  years 

Matching  his  sixty-and-under.     Him  she  blessed  ; 

And  as  for  doing  any  detriment 

To  the  veritable  heir,  —  why,  teU  her  first 

Who  was  he  ?     Which  of  aU  the  hands  held  up 

I'  the  crowd,  one  day  would  gather  round  their  gate 

Did  she  so  wrong  by  intercepting  thus 

The  ducat,  spendthrift  fortune  thought  to  fling 

For  a  scramble  just  to  make  the  mob  break  shins  ? 

She  kept  it,  saved  them  kicks  and  cuffs  thereby. 

While  at  the  least  one  good  work  had  she  wrought, 

Good,  clearly  and  incontestably  !     Her  cheat  — 

What  was  it  to  its  subject,  the  child's  seK, 

But  charity  and  religion  ?     See  the  girl ! 

A  body  most  like  —  a  soul  too  probably  — 

Doomed  to  death,  such  a  double  death  as  waits 

The  illicit  offspring  of  a  common  trull, 

Sure  to  resent  and  forthwith  rid  herself 

Of  a  mere  interruption  to  sin's  trade,  .^ 

In  the  efficacious  way  old  Tiber  knows. 

Was  not  so  much  proved  by  the  ready  sale 

O'  the  child,  glad  transfer  of  this  irksome  chance  ? 

Well  then,  she  had  caught  up  this  castaway : 

This  fragile  egg,  some  careless  wild  bird  dropped. 

She  had  picked  from  where  it  waited  the  footfall, 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  73 

And  put  in  her  own  breast  till  forth  broke  finch 
Able  to  sing  God  praise  on  mornings  now. 
What  so  excessive  harm  was  done  ?  —  she  asked. 

To  which  demand  the  dreadful  answer  comes  — 
For  that  same  deed,  now  at  Lorenzo's  church, 
Both  agents,  conscious  and  inconscious,  lie  ; 
While  she,  the  deed  was  done  to  benefit, 
Lies  also,  the  most  lamentable  of  things, 
Yonder  where  curious  people  count  her  breaths, 
Calculate  how  long  yet  the  little  life 
Unspilt  may  serve  their  turn  nor  spoil  the  show, 
Give  them  their  story,  then  the  church  its  group. 

Well,  having  gained  Pompilia,  the  girl  grew 

I'  the  midst  of  Pietro  here,  Violante  there, 

Each,  Uke  a  semicircle  with  stretched  arms. 

Joining  the  other  round  her  preciousness  — 

Two  walls  that  go  about  a  garden-plot 

Where  a  chance  sliver,  branchlet  slipt  from  bole 

Of  some  tongue-leaved  eye-figured  Eden  tree, 

Filched  by  two  exiles  and  borne  far  away. 

Patiently  glorifies  their  solitude,  — 

Year  by  year  mounting,  grade  by  grade  surmount 

The  builded  brick-work,  yet  is  compassed  still. 

Still  hidden  happily  and  shielded  safe,  — 

Else  why  should  miracle  have  graced  the  ground  ? 

But  on  the  twelfth  sun  that  brought  April  there 

What  meant  that  laugh  ?     The  coping-stone  was  reached ; 

Nay,  above  towered  a  light  tuft  of  bloom 

To  be  toyed  with  by  butterfly  or  bee. 

Done  good  to  or  else  harm  to  from  outside  : 

Pompilia's  root,  stalk  and  a  branch  or  two 

Home  enclosed  still,  the  rest  would  be  the  world's. 

All  which  was  taught  our  couple  though  obtuse, 

Since  walls  have  ears,  when  one  day  brought  a  priest, 

Smooth-mannered  soft-speeched  sleek-cheeked  visitor. 

The  notable  Abate  Paolo  —  known 

As  younger  brother  of  a  Tuscan  house 

Whereof  the  actual  representative. 

Count  Guido,  had  employed  his  youth  and  age 

In  culture  of  Rome's  most  productive  plaint  — 

A  cardinal :  but  years  pass  and  change  comes. 

In  token  of  which,  here  was  our  Paolo  brought 

To  broach  a  weighty  business.     Might  he  speak  ? 

Yes  —  to  Violante  somehow  caught  alone 


74  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

While  Pietro  took  his  after-dinner  doze, 
And  the  young  maiden,  busily  as  befits. 
Minded  her  broider-frame  three  chambers  off. 

So  —  giving  now  his  great  flap-hat  a  gloss 

With  flat  o'  the  hand  between-whiles,  soothing  now 

The  silk  from  out  its  creases  o'er  the  calf. 

Setting  the  stocking  clerical  again, 

But  never  disengaging,  once  engaged. 

The  tliin  clear  gray  hold  of  his  eyes  on  her  — 

He  dissertated  on  that  Tuscan  house. 

Those  Franceschini,  — very  old  they  were  — 

Not  rich  however  —  oh,  not  rich,  at  least, 

As  people  look  to  be  who,  low  i'  the  scale 

One  way,  have  reason,  rising  all  they  can 

By  favor  of  the  money-bag  !  't  is  fair  — 

Do  aU  gifts  go  together  ?     But  don't  suppose 

That  being  not  so  rich  means  all  so  poor  ! 

Say  rather,  well  enough  —  i'  the  way,  indeed, 

Ha,  ha,  to  fortune  better  than  the  best : 

Since  if  his  brother's  patron-friend  kept  faith. 

Put  into  promised  play  the  Cardinalate, 

Their  house  might  wear  the  red  cloth  that  keeps  warm. 

Would  but  the  Count  have  patience  —  there  's  the  point ! 

For  he  was  slipping  into  years  apace. 

And  years  make  men  restless  —  they  needs  must  spy 

Some  certainty,  some  sort  of  end  assured, 

Some  sparkle,  though  from  topmost  beacon-tip, 

That  warrants  hfe  a  harbor  through  the  haze. 

In  short,  caU  him  fantastic  as  you  choose. 

Guide  was  home-sick,  yearned  for  the  old  sights 

And  usual  faces,  —  fain  would  settle  himself 

And  have  the  patron's  bounty  when  it  fell 

Irrigate  far  rather  than  deluge  near. 

Go  fertilize  Arezzo,  not  flood  Rome. 

Sooth  to  say,  't  was  the  wiser  wish :  the  Count 

Proved  wanting  in  ambition,  —  let  us  avouch. 

Since  truth  is  best,  — in  callousness  of  heart. 

And  winced  at  pin-pricks  whereby  honors  hang 

A  ribbon  o'er  each  puncture  :  his  —  no  soul 

Ecclesiastic  (here  the  hat  was  brushed), 

Humble  but  self-sustaining,  calm  and  cold, 

Having,  as  one  who  puts  his  hand  to  the  plough, 

Renounced  the  over-vivid  famUy-feel  — 

Poor  brother  Guldo !     AU  too  plain,  he  pined 

Amid  Rome's  pomp  and  glare  for  dinginess 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  76 

And  that  dilapidated  palace-shell 

Vast  as  a  quarry  and,  very  like,  as  hare  — 

Since  to  this  comes  old  grandeur  nowadays  — 

Or  that  ahsurd  wild  villa  in  the  waste 

O'  the  hillside,  breezy  though,  for  who  likes  air, 

Vittiano,  nor  unpleasant  with  its  vines, 

Outside  the  city  and  the  summer  heats. 

And  now  his  harping  on  this  one  tense  chord 

The  villa  and  the  palace,  palace  this 

And  villa  the  other,  all  day  and  all  night 

Creaked  like  the  implacable  cicala's  cry 

And  made  one's  ear-drum  ache  :  nought  else  would  serve 

But  that,  to  light  his  mother's  visage  up 

With  second  youth,  hope,  gayety  again. 

He  must  find  straightway,  woo  and  haply  win 

And  bear  away  triumphant  back,  some  wife. 

Well  now,  the  man  was  rational  in  his  way : 

He,  the  Abate,  —  ought  he  to  interpose  ? 

Unless  by  straining  stiU  his  tutelage 

(Priesthood  leaps  over  elder-brothership) 

Across  this  difficulty :  then  let  go, 

Leave  the  poop<  fellow  in  peace  !     Would  that  be  wrong  ? 

There  was  no  making  Guido  great,  it  seems. 

Spite  of  himself :  then  happy  be  his  dole  ! 

Indeed,  the  Abate's  httle  interest 

Was  somewhat  nearly  touched  i'  the  case,  they  saw : 

Since  if  his  simple  kinsman  so  were  bent, 

Began  his  rounds  in  Rome  to  catch  a  wife, 

Full  soon  would  such  unworldliness  surprise 

The  rare  bird,  sprinkle  salt  on  phoenix'  tad, 

And  so  secure  the  nest  a  sparrow-hawk. 

No  lack  of  mothers  here  in  Rome,  —  no  dread 

Of  daughters  lured  as  larks  by  looking-glass  ! 

The  first  name-pecking  credit-scratching  fowl 

Would  drop  her  unfledged  cuckoo  in  our  nest 

To  gather  grayness  there,  give  voice  at  length 

And  shame  the  brood  .  .  .  but  it  was  long  ago 

When  crusades  were,  and  we  sent  eagles  forth ! 

No,  that  at  least  the  Abate  could  forestall. 

He  read  the  thought  within  his  brother's  word, 

Knew  what  he  purposed  better  than  himself. 

We  want  no  name  and  fame  —  having  our  own  : 

No  worldly  aggrandizement  —  such  we  fly : 

But  if  some  wonder  of  a  woman's-heart 

Were  yet  untainted  on  this  grimy  earth, 

Tender  and  true  —  tradition  tells  of  such  — 


76  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Prepared  to  pant  in  time  and  tune  with  ours  — 

If  some  good  girl  (a  girl,  since  she  must  take 

The  new  hent,  live  new  life,  adopt  new  modes) 

Not  wealthy  (Guido  for  his  rank  was  poor) 

But  with  whatever  dowry  came  to  hand,  — 

There  were  the  lady-love  predestinate ! 

And  somehow  the  Ahate's  guardian  eye  — 

ScintiUant,  rutilant,  fraternal  fire,  — 

Roving  round  every  way  had  seized  the  prize 

—  The  instinct  of  us,  we,  the  spiritualty ! 

Come,  cards  on  table ;  was  it  true  or  false 

That  here  —  here  in  this  very  tenement  — 

Yea,  Via  Vittoria  did  a  marvel  hide, 

Lily  of  a  maiden,  white  with  intact  leaf 

Guessed  through  the  sheath  that  saved  it  from  the  sun  ? 

A  daughter  with  the  mother's  hands  still  clasped 

Over  her  head  for  fillet  virginal, 

A  wife  worth  Guido's  house  and  hand  and  heart  ? 

He  came  to  see  ;  had  spoken,  he  could  no  less  — 

(A  final  cherish  of  the  stockinged  calf) 

If  harm  were,  —  well,  the  matter  was  off  his  mind. 

Then  with  the  great  air  did  he  kiss,  devout, 

Violante's  hand,  and  rise  up  his  whole  height 

(A  certain  purple  gleam  about  the  black) 

And  go  forth  grandly,  ■ —  as  if  the  Pope  came  next. 

And  so  Violante  rubbed  her  eyes  awhile. 

Got  up  too,  walked  to  wake  her  Pietro  soon 

And  pour  into  his  ear  the  mighty  news 

How  somebody  had  somehow  somewhere  seen 

Their  tree-top-tuft  of  bloom  above  the  wall. 

And  came  now  to  apprise  them  the  tree's  self 

Was  no  such  crab-sort  aa  should  go  feed  swine, 

But  veritable  gold,  the  Hesperian  ball 

Ordained  for  Hercules  to  haste  and  pluck. 

And  bear  and  give  the  Gods  to  banquet  with  — 

Hercules  standing  ready  at  the  door. 

Whereon  did  Pietro  rub  his  eyes  in  turn, 

Look  very  wise,  a  little  woful  too. 

Then,  periwig  on  head,  and  cane  in  hand, 

Sally  forth  dignifiedly  into  the  Square 

Of  Spain  across  Babbuino  the  six  steps. 

Toward  the  Boat-fountain  where  our  idlers  lounge,  — ■ 

Ask,  for  form's  sake,  who  Hercules  might  be. 

And  have  congratulation  from  the  world./ 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  77 

Heartily  laughed  the  world  in  his  fool's-face 
And  told  him  Hercules  was  just  the  heir 
To  the  stubble  once  a  cornfield,  and  brick-heap 
Where  used  to  be  a  dwelling-place  now  burned. 
Guido  and  Franceschini ;  a  Count,  —  ay : 
But  a  cross  i'  the  poke  to  bless  the  Countship?     No  ! 
All  gone  except  sloth,  pride,  rapacity, 
Humors  of  the  imposthume  incident 
To  rich  blood  that  runs  thin,  —  nursed  to  a  head 
By  the  rankly-salted  soil  —  a  cardinal's  court 
Where,  parasite  and  picker-up  of  crumbs, 
He  had  hung  on  long,  and  now,  let  go,  said  some, 
Shaken  off,  said  others,  —  but  in  any  case 
Tired  of  the  trade  and  something  worse  for  wear, 
Was  wanting  to  change  town  for  country  quick, 
Go  home  again :  let  Pietro  help  him  home  ! 
The  brother,  Abate  Paolo,  shrewder  mouse. 
Had  pricked  for  comfortable  quarters,  inched 
Into  the  core  of  Rome,  and  fattened  so  ; 
But  Guido,  over-burly  for  rat's  hole 
Suited  to  clerical  slimness,  starved  outside. 
Must  shift  for  himself  :  and  so  the  shift  was  this  ! 
What,  was  the  snug  retreat  of  Pietro  tracked. 
The  little  provision  for  his  old  age  snuffed  ? 
''  Oh,  make  your  girl  a  lady,  an  you  list, 
But  have  more  mercy  on  our  wit  than  vaunt 
Your  bargain  as  we  burgesses  who  brag  ! 
Why,  Goodman  Dullard,  if  a  friend  must  speak, 
Would  the  Count,  think  you,  stoop  to  you  and  yours 
Were  there  the  value  of  one  penny-piece 
To  rattle  'tvrixt  his  palms  —  or  likelier  laugh, 
Bid  your  Pompilia  help  you  black  his  shoe  ?  " 

Home  again,  shaking  oft  the  puzzled  pate, 
Went  Pietro  to  announce  a  change  indeed, 
Yet  point  Violante  where  some  solace  lay 
Of  a  rueful  sort,  —  the  taper,  quenched  so  soon, 
Had  ended  merely  in  a  snuff,  not  stink  — 
Congratulate  there  was  one  hope  the  less 
Not  misery  the  more  :  and  so  an  end. 

The  marriage  thus  impossible,  the  rest 
Followed :  our  spokesman,  Paolo,  heard  his  fate, 
Resignedly  Count  Guido  bore  the  blow  : 
Violante  wiped  away  the  transient  tear. 
Renounced  the  playing  Danae  to  gold  dreams, 


78  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Praised  much  her  Pietro's  prompt  sagaciousness, 

Found  neighbors'  envy  natural,  lightly  laughed 

At  gossips'  malice,  fairly  wrapped  herself 

In  her  integrity  three  folds  about, 

And,  letting  pass  a  little  day  or  two, 

Threw,  even  over  that  integrity. 

Another  wrappage,  namely  one  thick  veil 

That  hid  her,  matron-wise,  from  head  to  foot, 

And,  by  the  hand  holding  a  girl  veiled  too. 

Stood,  one  dim  end  of  a  December  day, 

In  Saint  Lorenzo  on  the  altar-step  — 

Just  where  she  lies  now  and  that  girl  wUl  lie  — 

Only  with  fifty  candles'  company 

Novr,  in  the  place  of  the  poor  winkjng  one 

Which  saw  —  doors  shut  and  sacristan  made  sure  — 

A  priest — perhaps  Abate  Paolo  —  wed 

Guido  clandestinely,  irrevocably 

To  his  Pompilia  ag^d  thirteen  years 

And  five  months,  —  witness  the  church  register,  — 

Pompilia,  (thus  become  Count  Guido's  wife 

Clandestinely,  irrevocably  his,) 

Who  all  the  while  had  borne,  from  first  to  last, 

As  brisk  a  part  i'  the  bargain,  as  yon  lamb, 

Brought  forth  from  basket  and  set  out  for  sale, 

Bears  while  they  chaffer,  wary  market-man 

And  voluble  housewife,  o'er  it,  —  each  in  turn 

Patting  the  curly  calm  inconscions  head. 

With  the  shambles  ready  round  the  corner  there. 

When  the  talk  's  talked  out  and  a  bargain  struck. 

Transfer  complete,  why,  Pietro  was  apprised. 

Violante  sobbed  the  sobs  and  prayed  the  prayers, 

And  said  the  serpent  tempted  so  she  fell, 

TiU  Pietro  had  to  clear  his  brow  apace 

And  make  the  best  of  matters  :  wrath  at  first,  — 

How  else  ?  pacification  presently, 

Why  not  ?  —  could  flesh  withstand  the  impurpled  one, 

The  very  Cardinal,  Paolo's  patron-friend  ? 

Who,  justifiably  surnamed  "  a  hinge," 

Knew  where  the  mollifying  oil  should  drop 

To  cure  the  creak  o'  the  valve,  —  considerate 

For  fraUty,  patient  in  a  naughty  world. 

He  even  volunteered  to  supervise 

The  rough  draught  of  those  marriage-articles 

Signed  in  a  hurry  by  Pietro,  since  revoked  : 

Trust 's  politic,  suspicion  does  the  harm, 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  79 

There  is  but  one  way  to  browbeat  this  world, 
Dumb-founder  doubt,  and  repay  scorn  in  kind,  — 
To  go  on  trusting,  namely,  tUl  faith  move 
Mountains. 

And  faith  here  made  the  mountains  move. 
"Why,  friends  whose  zeal  cried  "  Caution  ere  too  late  !  "  — 
Bade  "  Pause  ere  jump,  with  both  feet  joined,  on  slough  !  "  — » 
Counselled  "  If  rashness  then,  now  temperance  !  "  — 
Heard  for  their  pains  that  Pietro  had  closed  eyes, 
Jumped  and  was  in  the  middle  of  the  mire. 
Money  and  all,  just  what  should  sink  a  man. 
By  the  mere  marriage,  Guido  gained  forthwith 
Dowry,  his  wife's  right ;  no  rescinding  there  : 
But  Pietro,  why  must  he  needs  ratify 
One  gift  Violante  gave,  pay  down  one  doit 
Promised  in  first  fool's-flurry  ?     Grasp  the  bag 
Lest  the  son's  service  flag,  —  is  reason  and  rhyme, 
Above  all  when  the  son 's  a  son-in-law. 
Words  to  the  wind !     The  parents  cast  their  lot 
Into  the  lap  o'  the  daughter  :  and  the  son 
Now  with  a  right  to  lie  there,  took  what  fell, 
Pietro's  whole  having  and  holding,  house  and  field, 
Goods,  chattels  and  effects,  his  worldly  worth 
Present  and  in  perspective,  all  renounced 
In  favor  of  Guido.     As  for  the  usufruct  — 
The  interest  now,  the  principal  anon. 
Would  Guido  please  to  wait,  at  Pietro's  death : 
Till  when,  he  must  support  the  couple's  charge. 
Bear  with  them,  housemates,  pensionaries,  pawned 
To  an  alien  for  fulfilment  of  their  pact. 
Guido  should  at  discretion  deal  them  orts. 
Bread-bounty  in  Arezzo  the  strange  place,  — 
They  who  had  lived  deliciously  and  rolled 
Rome's  choicest  comfit  'neath  the  tongue  before. 
Into  this  quag,  "  jump  "  bade  the  Cardinal ! 
And  neck-deep  in  a  minute  there  flounced  they. 

But  they  touched  bottom  at  Arezzo  :  there  — 

Four  months'  experience  of  how  craft  and  greed, 

Quickened  by  penury  and  pretentious  hate 

Of  plain  truth,  brutify  and  bestializ'e,  — 

Four  months'  taste  of  apportioned  insolence, 

Cruelty  graduated,  dose  by  dose 

Of  ruffianism  dealt  out  at  bed  and  board, 

And  lo,  the  work  was  done,  success  clapped  hands. 


80         THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  starved,  stripped,  beaten  brace  of  stupid  dupes 

Broke  at  last  in  their  desperation  loose, 

Fled  away  for  their  lives,  and  lucky  so  ; 

Found  their  account  in  casting  coat  afar 

And  bearing  ofE  a  shred  of  skin  at  least : 

Left  Guido  lord  o'  the  prey,  as  the  lion  is. 

And,  careless  what  came  after,  carried  their  wrongs 

To  Rome,  —  I  nothing  doubt,  with  such  remorse 

As  folly  feels,  since  pain  can  make  it  wise, 

But  crime,  past  wisdom,  which  is  innocence. 

Needs  not  be  plagued  vdth  till  a  later  day. 

Pietro  went  back  to  beg  from  door  to  door, 
In  hope  that  memory  not  quite  extinct 
Of  cheery  days  and  festive  nights  would  move 
Friends  and  acquaintance  —  after  the  natural  laugh, 
And  tributary  "  Just  as  we  foretold  —  " 
To  show  some  bowels,  give  the  dregs  o'  the  cup, 
Scraps  of  the  trencher,  to  their  host  that  was, 
Or  let  him  share  the  mat  with  the  mastifB,  he 
Who  lived  large  and  kept  open  house  so  long. 
Not  so  Violante  :  ever  ahead  i'  the  march, 
Quick  at  the  by-road  and  the  cut-across, 
She  went  first  to  the  best  adviser,  God  — 
"Whose  finger  unmistakably  was  felt 
In  all  this  retribution  of  the  past. 
Here  was  the  prize  of  sin,  luck  of  a  lie  ! 
But  here  too  was  what  Holy  Year  would  help, 
Bound  to  rid  sinners  of  sin  vulgar,  sin 
Abnormal,  sin  prodigious,  up  to  sin 
Impossible  and  supposed  for  Jubilee'  sake : 
To  hft  the  leadenest  of  lies,  let  soar 
The  soul  unhampered  by  a  feather-weight. 
"  I  wiU  "  said  she  "  go  burn  out  this  bad  hole 
That  breeds  the  scorpion,  balk  the  plague  at  least 
Of  hope  to  further  plague  by  progeny : 
I  will  confess  my  fault,  be  punished,  yes. 
But  pardoned  too  :  Saint  Peter  pays  for  all." 

So,  with  the  crowd  she  mixed,  made  for  the  dome. 

Through  the  great  door  new-broken  for  the  nonce 

Marched,  muffled  more  than  ever  matron-wise. 

Up  the  left  nave  to  the  formidable  throne. 

Fell  into  file  with  this  the  poisoner 

And  that  the  parricide,  and  reached  in  turn 

The  poor  repugnant  Penitentiary 


THE   OTHER   HALF-ROME  81 

Set  at  this  gully-hole  o'  the  world's  discharge 

To  help  the  frightfuUest  of  filth  have  vent, 

And  then  knelt  down  and  whispered  in  his  ear 

How  she  had  bought  Pompilia,  palmed  the  babe 

On  Pietro,  passed  the  girl  off  as  their  child 

To  Guido,  and  defrauded  of  his  due 

This  one  and  that  one,  —  more  than  she  could  nam^ 

Until  her  solid  piece  of  wickedness 

Happened  to  split  and  spread  woe  far  and  wide  : 

Contritely  now  she  brought  the  case  for  cure. 

Replied  the  throne  —  "  Ere  God  forgive  the  guilt, 

Make  man  some  restitution  !     Do  your  part ! 

The  owners  of  your  husband's  heritage. 

Barred  thence  by  this  pretended  birth  and  heir,  — 

Tell  them,  the  bar  came  so,  is  broken  so. 

Theirs  be  the  due  reversion  as  before  ! 

Your  husband  who,  no  partner  in  the  guilt, 

SufBers  the  penalty,  led  bUndfold  thus 

By  love  of  what  he  thought  his  flesh  and  blood 

To  alienate  his  all  in  her  behalf,  — 

Tell  him  too  such  contract  is  null  and  void  ! 

Last,  he  who  personates  your  son-in-law, 

Who  with  sealed  eyes  and  stopped  ears,  tame  and  mute, 

Took  at  your  hand  that  bastard  of  a  whore 

You  called  your  daughter  and  he  calls  his  wife,  — 

Tell  him,  and  bear  the  anger  which  is  just ! 

Then,  penance  so  performed,  may  pardon  be  ! " 

Who  could  gainsay  this  just  and  right  award  ? 
Nobody  in  the  world  :  but,  out  o'  the  world, 
Who  ^ows  ?  —  might  timid  intervention  be 
From  any  makeshift  of  an  angel-guide, 
Substitute  for  celestial  guardianship. 
Pretending  to  take  care  of  the  girl's  self : 
"  Woman,  confessing  crime  is  healthy  work, 
And  telling  truth  relieves  a  liar  like  you, 
But  how  of  my  quite  unconsidered  charge  ? 
No  thought  If,  while  this  good  befalls  yourself, 
Aught  in  the  way  of  harm  may  find  out  her  ?  " 
No  least  thought,  I  assure  you  :  truth  being  truth, 
Tell  it  and  shame  the  devil ! 

Said  and  done  : 
Home  went  Violante,  and  disbosomed  all : 
And  Pietro  who,  six  months  before,  had  borne 


82  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Word  after  word  of  such  a  piece  of  news 
Like  so  much  cold  steel  inched  through  his  breast-blade, 
Now  at  its  entry  gave  a  leap  for  joy, 
As  who  —  what  did  I  say  of  one  in  a  quag  ?  — 
Should  catch  a  hand  from  heaven  and  spring  thereby 
Out  of  the  mud,  on  ten  toes  stand  once  more. 
"  What  ?     All  that  used  to  be,  may  be  again  ? 
My  money  mine  again,  my  house,  my  land, 
My  chairs  and  tables,  all  mine  evermore  ? 
What,  the  girl's  dowry  never  was  the  girl's, 
And,  unpaid  yet,  is  never  now  to  pay  ? 
Then  the  girl's  self,  my  pale  Pompilia  child 
That  used  to  be  my  own  with  her  great  eyes  — 
He  who  drove  us  forth,  why  should  he  keep  her 
When  proved  as  very  a  pauper  as  himself  ? 
Will  she  come  back,  with  nothing  changed  at  all, 
And  laugh,  '  But  how  you  dreamed  uneasily  ! 
I  saw  the  great  drops  stand  here  on  your  brow  — 
Did  I  do  wrong  to  wake  you  with  a  kiss  ?  ' 
No,  indeed,  darling !     No,  for  wide  awake 
I  see  another  outburst  of  surprise : 
The  lout-lord,  bully-beggar,  braggart-sneak, 
Who,  not  content  with  cutting  purse,  crops  ear  — 
Assuredly  it  shall  be  salve  to  mine 
When  this  great  news  red-letters  him,  the  rogue ! 
Ay,  let  him  taste  the  teeth  o'  the  trap,  this  fox, 
Give  us  our  lamb  back,  golden  fleece  and  all. 
Let  her  creep  in  and  warm  our  breasts  again  ! 
Why  care  for  the  past  ?  —  we  three  are  our  old  selves, 
And  know  now  what  the  outside  world  is  worth." 
And  so,  he  carried  case  before  the  courts  ; 
And  there  Violante,  blushing  to  the  bone. 
Made  public  declaration  of  her  fault, 
Renounced  her  motherhood,  and  prayed  the  law 
To  interpose,  frustrate  of  its  efEect 
Her  folly,  and  redress  the  injury  done. 

Whereof  was  the  disastrous  consequence, 

That  though  indisputably  clear  the  case 

(For  thirteen  years  are  not  so  large  a  lapse, 

And  still  six  witnesses  survived  in  Rome 

To  prove  the  truth  o'  the  tale)  —  yet,  patent  wrong 

Seemed  Guido's ;  the  first  cheat  had  chanced  on  him : 

Here  was  the  pity  that,  deciding  right, 

Those  who  began  the  wrong  would  gain  the  prize. 

Guido  pronounced  the  story  one  long  lie 


THE  OTHER  HALF-ROME 

Lied  to  do  robbery  and  take  revenge  : 

Or  say  it  were  no  lie  at  all  but  truth, 

Then,  it  both  robbed  the  right  heirs  and  shamed  him 

Without  revenge  to  humanize  the  deed : 

What  had  he  done  when  first  they  shamed  him  thus  ? 

But  that  were  too  fantastic  :  losels  they. 

And  leasing  this  world's-wonder  of  a  lie, 

They  lied  to  blot  him  though  it  brand  themselves. 

So  answered  Guide  through  the  Abate's  mouth. 
Wherefore  the  court,  its  customary  way. 
Inclined  to  the  middle  course  the  sage  affect. 
They  held  the  child  to  be  a  changeling,  —  good : 
But,  lest  the  husband  got  no  good  thereby. 
They  willed  the  dowry,  though  not  hers  at  all, 
Should  yet  be  his,  if  not  by  right  then  grace  — 
Part-payment  for  the  plain  injustice  done. 
As  for  that  other  contract,  Pietro's  work, 
Renunciation  of  his  own  estate, 
That  must  be  cancelled  —  give  him  back  his  gifts, 
He  was  no  party  to  the  cheat  at  least ! 
So  ran  the  judgment :  —  whence  a  prompt  appeal 
On  both  sides,  seeing  right  is  absolute. 
Cried  Pietro,  "  Is  the  child  no  child  of  mine  ? 
Why  give  her  a  child's  dowry  ?  "  —  "  Have  I  right 
To  the  dowry,  why  not  to  the  rest  as  well  ?  " 
Cried  Guido,  or  cried  Paolo  in  his  name  : 
Till  law  said,  "  Reinvestigate  the  case  !  " 
And  so  the  matter  pends,  to  this  same  day. 

Hence  new  disaster  —  here  no  outlet  seemed : 
Whatever  the  fortune  of  the  battlefield. 
No  path  whereby  the  fatal  man  might  march 
Victorious,  wreath  on  head  and  spoils  in  hand, 
And  back  turned  fuU  upon  the  baffled  foe,  — 
Nor  cranny  whence,  desperate  and  disgraced, 
Stripped  to  the  skin,  he  might  be  fain  to  crawl 
Worm-like,  and  so  away  with  his  "defeat 
To  other  fortune  and  a  novel  prey. 
No,  he  was  pinned  to  the  place  there,  left  alone 
With  his  immense  hate  and,  the  solitary 
Subject  to  satisfy  that  hate,  his  wife. 
"  Cast  her  off  ?     Turn  her  naked  out  of  doors  ? 
Easily  said  !     But  stiU  the  action  pends, 
StiU  dowry,  principal  and  interest, 
Pietro's  possessions,  all  I  bargained  for,  — 


84  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Any  good  day,  be  but  my  friends  alert, 

May  give  them  me  if  she  continue  mine. 

Yet,  keep  her  ?     Keep  the  puppet  of  my  foes  — 

Her  voice  that  lisps  me  back  their  curse  —  her  eye 

They  lend  their  leer  of  triumph  to  —  her  lip 

I  touch  and  taste  their  very  filth  upon  ?  " 

In  short,  he  also  took  the  middle  course 

Rome  taught  him  —  did  at  last  excogitate 

How  he  might  keep  the  good  and  leave  the  bad 

Twined  in  revenge,  yet  extricable,  —  nay 

Make  the  very  hate's  eruption,  very  rush 

Of  the  unpent  sluice  of  cruelty  relieve 

His  heart  first,  then  go  fertilize  his  field. 

What  if  the  girl-wife,  tortured  with  due  care. 

Should  take,  as  though  spontaneously,  the  road 

It  were  impolitic  to  thrust  her  on  ? 

If,  goaded,  she  broke  out  in  full  revolt. 

Followed  her  parents  i'  the  face  o'  the  world, 

Branded  as  runaway  not  castaway. 

Self-sentenced  and  self-punished  in  the  act  ? 

So  should  the  loathed  form  and  detested  face 

Launch  themselves  into  hell  and  there  be  lost 

WhUe  he  looked  o'er  the  brink  with  folded  arms  ; 

So  should  the  heaped-up  shames  go  shuddering  back 

O'  the  head  o'  the  heapers,  Pietro  and  his  wife. 

And  bury  in  the  breakage  three  at  once  : 

While  Guido,  left  free,  no  one  right  renounced, 

Gain  present,  gain  prospective,  aU  the  gain, 

None  of  the  wife  except  her  rights  absorbed, 

Should  ask  law  what  it  was  law  paused  about  — 

If  law  were  dubious  stiU  whose  word  to  take. 

The  husband's  —  dignified  and  derelict. 

Or  the  wife's  —  the  .  .  .  what  I  teU  you.     It  should  be. 

Guido's  first  step  was  to  take  pen,  indite 

A  letter  to  the  Abate,  —  not  his  own. 

His  wife's,  —  she  should  re-write,  sign,  seal  and  send. 

She  liberally  told  the  household-news. 

Rejoiced  her  vile  progenitors  were  gone. 

Revealed  their  malice  —  how  they  even  laid 

A  last  injunction  on  her,  when  they  fled. 

That  she  should  forthwith  find  a  paramour, 

Complot  with  him  to  gather  spoil  enough. 

Then  burn  the  house  down,  —  taking  previous  care 

To  poison  all  its  inmates  overnight,  — 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  85 

And  so  companioned,  so  provisioned  too, 
Follow  to  Rome  and  there  join  fortunes  gay. 
This  letter,  traced  in  pencil-characters, 
Guido  as  easily  got  retraced  in  ink 
By  his  wife's  pen,  guided  from  end  to  end, 
As  if  it  had  been  just  so  much  Chinese. 
For  why  ?     That  wife  could  broider,  sing  perhaps, 
Pray  certainly,  but  no  more  read  than  write 
This  letter,  "  which  yet  write  she  must,"  he  said, 
"  Being  half  courtesy  and  compliment, 
Half  sisterliness  :  take  the  thing  on  trust !  " 
She  had  as  readily  retraced  the  words 
Of  her  own  death-warrant,  —  in  some  sort 't  was  so. 
This  letter  the  Abate  in  due  course 
Communicated  to  such  curious  souls 
In  Rome  as  needs  must  pry  into  the  cause 
Of  quarrel,  why  the  Comparini  fled 
The  Franceschini,  whence  the  grievance  grew, 
What  the  hubbub  meant :  "  Nay,  —  see  the  wife's  own  word, 
Authentic  answer !     Tell  detractors  too 
There 's  a  plan  formed,  a  programme  figured  here 
—  Pray  God  no  after-practice  put  to  proof. 
This  letter  cast  no  light  upon,  one  day  !  " 

So  much  for  what  should  work  in  Rome  :  back  now 

To  Arezzo,  foUow  up  the  project  there. 

Forward  the  next  step  with  as  bold  a  foot, 

And  plague  Pompilia  to  the  height,  you  see ! 

Accordingly  did  Guido  set  himself 

To  worry  up  and  down,  across,  around. 

The  woman,  hemmed  in  by  her  household-bars,  — 

Chase  her  about  the  coop  of  daily  life. 

Having  first  stopped  each  outlet  thence  save  one, 

Which,  like  bird  with  a  ferret  in  her  haunt, 

She  needs  must  seize  as  sole  way  of  escape 

Though  there  was  tied  and  twittering  a  decoy 

To  seem  as  if  it  tempted,  —  just  the  plume 

O'  the  popinjay,  not  a  real  respite  there 

From  tooth  and  claw  of  something  in  the  dark,  — 

Giuseppe  Caponsacchi. 

Now  begins 
The  tenebrific  passage  of  the  tale : 
How  hold  a  hght,  display  the  cavern's  gorge  ? 
How,  in  this  phase  of  the  affair,  show  truth  ? 
Here  is  the  dying  wife  who  smiles  and  says 


86  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

"  So  it  was,  —  so  it  was  not,  —  how  it  was, 
I  never  knew  nor  ever  care  to  know  —  " 
Till  they  all  weep,  physician,  man  of  law. 
Even  that  poor  old  bit  of  battered  brass 
Beaten  out  of  all  shape  by  the  world's  sins, 
Common  utensil  of  the  lazar-house  — 
Confessor  Celestino  groans  "  'T  is  truth. 
All  truth  and  only  truth  :  there  's  something  here, 
Some  presence  in  the  room  beside  us  all. 
Something  that  every  lie  expires  before  : 
No  question  she  was  pure  from  first  to  last." 
So  far  is  well  and  helps  us  to  believe  : 
But  beyond,  she  the  helpless,  simple-sweet 
Or  silly-sooth,  unskilled  to  break  one  blow 
At  her  good  fame  by  putting  finger  forth,  — 
How  can  she  render  service  to  the  truth  ? 
The  bird  says  "  So  I  fluttered  where  a  springe 
Caught  me :  the  springe  did  not  contrive  itseH, 
That  I  know  :  who  contrived  it,  God  forgive  !  " 
But  we,  who  hear  no  voice  and  have  dry  eyes. 
Must  ask,  —  we  cannot  else,  absolving  her,  — 
How  of  the  part  played  by  that  same  decoy 
I'  the  catching,  caging  ?     Was  himself  caught  first  ? 
We  deal  here  with  no  innocent  at  least, 
No  witless  victim,  —  he 's  a  man  of  the  age 
And   priest   beside,  —  persuade  the  mocking  world 
Mere  charity  boiled  over  in  this  sort ! 
He  whose  own  safety  too,  —  (the  Pope 's  apprised  — 
Good-natured  with  the  secular  offence. 
The  Pope  looks  grave  on  priesthood  in  a  scrape)  — 
Our  priest's  own  safety  therefore,  maybe  life. 
Hangs  on  the  issue !     You  will  find  it  hard. 
Guido  is  here  to  meet  you  with  fixed  foot. 
Stiff  like  a  statue  —  "  Leave  what  went  before  ! 
My  wife  fled  i'  the  company  of  a  priest. 
Spent  two  days  and  two  nights  alone  with  him  : 
Leave  what  came  after !  "     He  stands  hard  to  throw. 
Moreover  priests  are  merely  flesh  and  blood ; 
When  we  get  weakness,  and  no  guilt  beside, 
'T  is  no  such  great  ill-fortune  :  finding  gray. 
We  gladly  call  that  white  which  might  be  black, 
Too  used  to  the  double-dye.     So,  if  the  priest, 
Moved  by  PompUia's  youth  and  beauty,  gave 
Way  to  the  natural  weakness  .  .  .  Anyhow, 
Here  he  facts,  charactery ;  what  they  spell 
Determine,  and  thence  pick  what  sense  you  may ! 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  87 

There  was  a  certain  young  bold  handsome  priest 

Popular  iu  the  city,  far  and  wide 

Famed,  since  Arezzo  's  but  a  little  place, 

As  the  best  of  good  companions,  gay  and  grave 

At  the  decent  minute  ;  settled  in  his  stall, 

Or  sidling,  lute  on  lap,  by  lady's  couch, 

Ever  the  courtly  Canon  :  see  in  him 

A  proper  star  to  climb  and  culminate, 

Have  its  due  handbreadth  of  the  heaven  at  Bome, 

Though  meanwhile  pausing  on  Arezzo's  edge, 

As  modest  candle  does  'mid  mountain  fog, 

To  rub  off  redness  and  rusticity 

Ere  it  sweep  chastened,  gain  the  silver-sphere  ! 

Whether  through  Guido's  absence  or  what  else, 

This  Caponsacchi,  favorite  of  the  town, 

Was  yet  no  friend  of  his  nor  free  o'  the  house, 

Though  both  moved  in  the  regular  magnates'  march : 

Each  must  observe  the  other's  tread  and  halt 

At  church,  saloon,  theatre,  house  of  play. 

Who  could  help  noticing  the  husband's  slouch. 

The  black  of  his  brow  —  or  miss  the  news  that  buzzed 

Of  how  the  little  solitary  wife 

Wept  and  looked  out  of  window  aU  day  long  ? 

What  need  of  minute  search  into  such  springs 

As  start  men,  set  o'  the  move  ?  —  machinery 

Old  as  earth,  obvious  as  the  noonday  sun. 

Why,  take  men  as  they  come,  —  an  instance  now,  — 

Of  all  those  who  have  simply  gone  to  see 

PompUia  on  her  deathbed  since  four  days. 

Half  at  the  least  are,  call  it  how  you  please. 

In  love  with  her  —  I  don't  except  the  priests 

Nor  even  the  old  confessor  whose  eyes  run 

Over  at  what  he  styles  his  sister's  voice 

Who  died  so  early  and  weaned  him  from  the  world. 

Well,  had  they  viewed  her  ere  the  paleness  pushed 

The  last  o'  the  red  o'  the  rose  away,  while  yet 

Some  hand,  adventurous  'twist  the  wind  and  her, 

Might  let  shy  life  run  back  and  raise  the  flower 

Rich  with  reward  up  to  the  guardian's  face,  — 

Would  they  have  kept  that  hand  employed  all  day 

At  f umbUng  on  with  prayer-book  pages  ?     No ! 

Men  are  men :  why  then  need  I  say  one  word 

More  than  that  our  mere  man  the  Canon  here 

Saw,  pitied,  loved  Pompilia  ? 

This  is  why ; 
This  startling  why :  that  Caponsacchi's  self  — 


88  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Whom  foes  and  friends  alike  avouch,  for  good 

Or  ill,  a  man  of  truth  whate'er  betide, 

Intrepid  altogether,  reckless  too 

How  his  own  fame  and  fortune,  tossed  to  the  winds, 

Suffer  by  any  turn  the  adventure  take, 

Nay,  more  —  not  thrusting,  like  a  badge  to  hide, 

'Twixt  shirt  and  skin  a  joy  which  shown  is  shame  — 

But  flirting  flag-like  i'  the  face  o'  the  world 

This  tell-tale  kerchief,  this  conspicuous  love 

For  the  lady,  —  oh,  called  innocent  love,  I  know ! 

Only,  such  scarlet  fiery  innocence 

As  most  folk  would  try  muffle  up  in  shade,  — 

—  'T  is  strange  then  that  this  else  abashless  mouth 

Should  yet  maintain,  for  truth's  sake  which  is  God's, 

That  it  was  not  he  made  the  first  advance. 

That,  even  ere  word  had  passed  between  the  two, 

Pompilia  penned  him  letters,  passionate  prayers. 

If  not  love,  then  so  simulating  love 

That  he,  no  novice  to  the  taste  of  thyme, 

Turned  from  such  over-luscious  honey-clot 

At  end  o'  the  flower,  and  would  not  lend  his  lip 

Till  .  .  .  but  the  tale  here  frankly  outsoars  faith : 

There  must  be  falsehood  somewhere.     For  her  part, 

Pompilia  quietly  constantly  avers 

She  never  penned  a  letter  in  her  life 

Nor  to  the  Canon  nor  any  other  man, 

Being  incompetent  to  write  and  read : 

Nor  had  she  ever  uttered  word  to  him,  nor  he 

To  her  tiU  that  same  evening  when  they  met, 

She  on  her  window-terrace,  he  beneath 

I'  the  public  street,  as  was  their  fateful  chance, 

And  she  adjured  him  in  the  name  of  God 

To  find  out,  bring  to  pass  where,  when  and  how 

Escape  with  him  to  Rome  might  be  contrived. 

Means  were  found,  plan  laid,  time  fixed,  she  avers, 

And  heart  assured  to  heart  in  loyalty, 

AU  at  an  impulse  !     All  extemporized 

As  in  romance-books !     Is  that  credible  ? 

Well,  yes  :  as  she  avers  this  with  calm  mouth 

Dying,  I  do  think  "  Credible  !  "  you  'd  cry  — 

Did  not  the  priest's  voice  come  to  break  the  spelL 

They  questioned  him  apart,  as  the  custom  is. 

When  first  the  matter  made  a  noise  at  Bome, 

And  he,  calm,  constant  then  as  she  is  now. 

For  truth's  sake  did  assert  and  reassert 

Those  letters  called  him  to  her  and  he  came, 


THE  OTHER  HALF-ROME  8! 

—  "Which  damns  the  story  credible  otherwise. 
Why  should  this  man,  —  mad  to  devote  himself, 
Careless  what  comes  of  his  own  fame,  the  first,  — 
Be  studious  thus  to  publish  and  declare 

Just  what  the  lightest  nature  loves  to  hide, 
So  screening  lady  from  the  byword's  laugh 
"  First  spoke  the  lady,  last  the  cavalier  !  " 

—  I  say,  —  why  should  the  man  tell  truth  just  now 
When  graceful  lying  meets  such  ready  shrift  ? 

Or  is  there  a  first  moment  for  a  priest 

As  for  a  woman,  when  invaded  shame 

Must  have  its  first  and  last  excuse  to  show  ? 

Do  both  contrive  love's  entry  in  the  mind 

Shall  look,  i'  the  manner  of  it,  a  surprise, 

That  after,  once  the  flag  o'  the  fort  hauled  down, 

Effrontery  may  sink  drawbridge,  open  gate. 

Welcome  and  entertain  the  conqueror  ? 

Or  what  do  you  say  to  a  touch  of  the  devil's  worst  ? 

Can  it  be  that  the  husband,  he  who  wrote 

The  letter  to  his  brother  I  told  you  of, 

I'  the  name  of  her  it  meant  to  criminate,  — 

What  if  he  wrote  those  letters  to  the  priest  ? 

Further  the  priest  says,  when  it  first  befeU, 

This  folly  o'  the  letters,  that  he  checked  the  flow, 

Put  them  back  lightly  each  with  its  reply. 

Here  again  vexes  new  discrepancy : 

There  never  reached  her  eye  a  word  from  him  ; 

He  did  write  but  she  could  not  read  —  could  just 

Burn  the  offence  to  wifehood,  womanhood, 

So  did  burn :  never  bade  him  come  to  her, 

Yet  when  it  proved  he  must  come,  let  him  come. 

And  when  he  did  come  though  uncalled,  — why,  spoke 

Prompt  by  an  inspiration :  thus  it  chanced. 

Win  you  go  somewhat  back  to  understand  ? 

When  first,  pursuant  to  his  plan,  there  sprang, 

Like  an  uncaged  beast,  Guido's  cruelty 

On  soul  and  body  of  his  wife,  she  cried 

To  those  whom  law  appoints  resource  for  such, 

The  secular  guardian,  —  that 's  the  Governor, 

And  the  Archbishop,  —  that 's  the  spiritual  guide, 

And  prayed  them  take  the  claws  from  out  her  flesh. 

Now,  this  is  ever  the  iU  consequence 

Of  being  noble,  poor  and  difficult, 

Ungainly,  yet  too  great  to  disregard,  — 

This  —  that  born  peers  and  friends  hereditary,  — 


90         THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Though  disinclined  to  help  from  their  own  store 

The  opprobrious  wight,  put  penny  in  his  poke 

From  private  purse  or  leave  the  door  ajar 

When  he  goes  wistful  by  at  dinner-time,  — 

Yet,  if  his  needs  conduct  him  where  they  sit 

Smugly  in  office,  judge  this,  bishop  that, 

Dispensers  of  the  shine  and  shade  o'  the  place  — 

And  if,  friend's  door  shut  and  friend's  purse  undrawn, 

Still  potentates  may  find  the  office-seat 

Do  as  good  service  at  no  cost  —  give  help 

By-the-bye,  pay  up  traditional  dues  at  once 

Just  through  a  feather-weight  too  much  i'  the  scale. 

Or  finger-tip  forgot  at  the  balance-tongue, 

Why,  only  churls  refuse,  or  MoUnists. 

Thus  when,  in  the  first  roughness  of  surprise 

At  Guide's  wolf-face  whence  the  sheepskin  fell, 

The  frightened  couple,  all  bewilderment. 

Rushed  to  the  Governor,  —  who  else  rights  wrong  ? 

Told  him  their  tale  of  wrong  and  craved  redress  — 

Why,  then  the  Governor  woke  up  to  the  fact 

That  Guido  was  a  friend  of  old,  poor  Count !  — 

So,  promptly  paid  his  tribute,  promised  the  pair, 

Wholesome  chastisement  should  soon  cure  tlieir  qualms 

Next  time  they  came,  wept,  prated  and  told  lies : 

So  stopped  all  prating,  sent  them  dumb  to  Rome. 

Well,  now  it  was  Pompilia's  turn  to  try  : 
The  troubles  pressing  on  her,  as  I  said. 
Three  times  she  rushed,  maddened  by  misery, 
To  the  other  mighty  man,  sobbed  out  her  prayer 
At  footstool  of  the  Archbishop  —  fast  the  friend 
Of  her  husband  also  !     Oh,  good  friends  of  yore  ! 
So,  the  Archbishop,  not  to  be  outdone 
By  the  Governor,  break  custom  more  than  he, 
Thrice  bade  the  foolish  woman  stop  her  tongue. 
Unloosed  her  hands  from  harassing  his  gout. 
Coached  her  and  carried  her  to  the  Count  again, 
—  His  old  friend  should  be  master  in  his  house, 
Rule  his  wife  and  correct  her  faults  at  need ! 
Well,  driven  from  post  to  pillar  in  this  wise. 
She,  as  a  last  resource,  betook  herseK 
To  one,  should  be  no  family-friend  at  least, 
A  simple  friar  o'  the  city ;  confessed  to  him. 
Then  told  how  fierce  temptation  of  release 
By  self-dealt  death  was  busy  with  her  soul, 
And  urged  that  he  put  this  in  words,  write  plain 
For  one  who  could  not  write,  set  down  her  prayer 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  91 

That  Pietro  and  Violante,  parent-like 

If  somehow  not  her  parents,  should  for  love 

Come  save  her,  pluck  from  out  the  flame  the  brand 

Themselves  had  thoughtlessly  thrust  in  so  deep 

To  send  gay-colored  sparkles  up  and  cheer 

Their  seat  at  the  chimney-corner.     The  good  friar 

Promised  as  much  at  the  moment ;  but,  alack. 

Night  brings  discretion  :  he  was  no  one's  friend, 

Yet  presently  found  he  could  not  turn  about 

Nor  take  a  step  i'  the  case  and  fail  to  tread 

On  some  one's  toe  who  either  was  a  friend, 

Or  a  friend's  friend,  or  friend's  friend  tlirice-removedj 

And  woe  to  friar  by  whom  ofBences  come  ! 

So,  the  course  being  plain,  —  with  a  general  sigh 

At  matrimony  the  profound  mistake,  — 

He  threw  reluctantly  the  business  up. 

Having  his  other  penitents  to  mind. 

If  then,  all  outlets  thus  secured  save  one. 
At  last  she  took  to  the  open,  stood  and  stared 
With  her  wan  face  to  see  where  God  might  wait  — 
And  there  found  Caponsacchi  wait  as  well 
For  the  precious  something  at  perdition's  edge. 
He  only  was  predestinate  to  save,  — 
And  if  they  recognized  in  a  critical  flash 
From  the  zenith,  each  the  other,  her  need  of  him, 
His  need  of  .  .  .  say,  a  woman  to  perish  for. 
The  regular  way  o'  the  world,  yet  break  no  vow, 
Do  no  harm  save  to  himself,  —  if  this  were  thus  ? 
How  do  you  say  ?     It  were  improbable  ; 
So  is  the  legend  of  my  patron-saint. 

Anyhow,  whether,  as  Guldo  states  the  case, 
Pompilia,  —  like  a  starving  wretch  i'  the  street 
Who  stops  and  rifles  the  first  passenger 
In  the  great  right  of  an  excessive  wrong,  — 
Did  somehow  call  this  stranger  and  he  came,  — 
Or  whether  the  strange  sudden  interview 
Blazed  as  when  star  and  star  must  needs  go  close 
Till  each  hurts  each  and  there  is  loss  in  heaven  — 
Whatever  way  in  this  strange  world  it  was,  — 
Pompilia  and  Caponsacchi  met,  in  fine, 
She  at  her  window,  he  i'  the  street  beneath. 
And  understood  each  other  at  first  look. 

All  was  determined  and  performed  at  once. 
And  on  a  certain  April  evening,  late 


92  THE  RING  AND  THR  BOOK 

V  the  month,  this  girl  of  sixteen,  bride  and  wife 

Three  years  and  over,  —  she  who  hitherto 

Had  never  taken  twenty  steps  in  Borne 

Beyond  the  church,  pinned  to  her  mother's  gown, 

Nor,  in  Arezzo,  knew  her  way  through  street 

Except  what  led  to  the  Archbishop's  door,  — 

Such  an  one  rose  up  in  the  dark,  laid  hand 

On  what  came  first,  clothes  and  a  trinket  or  two, 

Belongings  of  her  own  in  the  old  day,  — 

Stole  from  the  side  o'  the  sleeping  spouse  —  who  knows  ? 

Sleeping  perhaps,  silent  for  certain,  —  slid 

Ghost-like  from  great  dark  room  to  great  dark  room. 

In  through  the  tapestries  and  out  agaiu 

And  onward,  unembarrassed  as  a  fate. 

Descended  staircase,  gained  last  door  of  all, 

Sent  it  wide  open  at  first  push  of  palm. 

And  there  stood,  first  time,  last  and  only  time, 

At  liberty,  alone  in  the  open  street,  — 

Unquestioned,  unmolested  found  herself 

At  the  city  gate,  by  Caponsacchi's  side, 

Hope  there,  joy  there,  life  and  all  good  again, 

The  carriage  there,  the  convoy  there,  light  there 

Broadening  ever  into  blaze  at  Rome 

And  breaking  small  what  long  miles  lay  between  ; 

Up  she  sprang,  in  he  followed,  they  were  safe. 

The  husband  quotes  this  for  incredible, 
AU  of  the  story  from  first  word  to  last : 
Sees  the  priest's  hand  throughout  upholding  hers. 
Traces  his  foot  to  the  alcove,  that  night. 
Whither  and  whence  blindfold  he  knew  the  way. 
Proficient  in  all  craft  and  stealthiness ; 
And  cites  for  proof  a  servant,  eye  that  watched 
And  ear  that  opened  to  purse  secrets  up, 
A  woman-spy,  —  suborned  to  give  and  take 
Letters  and  tokens,  do  the  work  of  shame 
The  more  adroitly  that  herself,  who  helped 
Communion  thus  between  a  tainted  pair, 
Had  long  since  been  a  leper  thick  in  spot, 
A  common  trull  o'  the  town  :  she  witnessed  all, 
Helped  many  meetings,  partings,  took  her  wage 
And  then  told  Guido  the  whole  matter.     Lies  ! 
The  woman's  life  confutes  her  word,  —  her  word 
Confutes  itself  :  "  Thus,  thus  and  thus  I  lied." 
"  And  thus,  no  question,  stUl  you  lie,"  we  say. 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  93 

"  Ay,  but  at  last,  e'en  have  it  how  you  will, 
Whatever  the  means,  whatever  the  way,  explodes 
The  consummation  "  — the  accusers  shriek  : 

"  Here  is  the  wife  avowedly  found  in  flight, 
And  the  companion  of  her  flight,  a  priest ; 
She  flies  her  husband,  he  the  church  his  spouse : 
What  is  this  ?  " 

Wife  and  priest  alike  reply, 

"  This  is  the  simple  thing  it  claims  to  be, 
A  course  we  took  for  life  and  honor's  sake, 
Very  strange,  very  justifiable." 
She  says,  "  God  put  it  in  my  head  to  fly. 
As  when  the  martin  migrates :  autumn  claps 
Her  hands,  cries  '  Winter 's  coming,  will  be  here, 
OfE  with  you  ere  the  white  teeth  overtake  ! 
Flee  ! '     So  I  fled  :  this  friend  was  the  warm  day, 
The  south  wind  and  whatever  favors  flight ; 
I  took  the  favor,  had  the  help,  how  else  ? 
And  so  we  did  fly  rapidly  all  night, 
All  day,  all  night  —  a  longer  night  —  again, 
And  then  another  day,  longest  of  days. 
And  all  the  while,  whether  we  fled  or  stopped, 
I  scarce  know  how  or  why,  one  thought  filled  both, 

'  Fly  and  arrive  ! '     So  long  as  I  found  strength 
I  talked  with  my  companion,  told  him  much, 
Knowing  that  he  knew  more,  knew  me,  knew  God 
And  God's  disposal  of  me,  —  but  the  sense 
O'  the  blessed  flight  absorbed  me  in  the  main. 
And  speech  became  mere  talking  through  a  sleep, 
TiU  at  the  end  of  that  last  longest  night 
In  a  red  daybreak,  when  we  reached  an  inn 
And  my  companion  whispered  '  Next  stage  —  Eome  ! ' 
Sudden  the  weak  flesh  fell  like  pUed-up  cards. 
All  the  frail  fabric  at  a  finger's  touch, 
And  prostrate  the  poor  soul  too,  and  I  said, 

'  But  though  Count  Guido  were  a  furlong  o£E, 
Just  on  me,  I  must  stop  and  rest  awhile  !  ' 
Then  something  like  a  huge  white  wave  o'  the  sea 
Broke  o'er  my  brain  and  buried  ma  in  sleep 
Blessedly,  till  it  ebbed  and  left  me  loose, 
And  where  was  I  found  but  on  a  strange  bed 
In  a  strange  room  like  hell,  roaring  with  noise. 
Ruddy  with  flame,  and  filled  with  men,  in  front 
Who  but  the  man  you  call  my  husband  ?    ay  — 
Count  Guido  once  more  between  heaven  and  me, 


94  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

For  there  my  heaven  stood,  my  salvation,  yes  — 

That  Caponsacchi  all  my  heaven  of  help, 

Helpless  himself,  held  prisoner  in  the  hands 

Of  men  who  looked  up  in  my  husband's  face 

To  take  the  fate  thence  he  should  signify, 

Just  as  the  way  was  at  Arezzo.     Then, 

Not  for  my  sake  but  his  who  had  helped  me  — 

1  sprang  up,  reached  him  with  one  bound,  and  seized 

The  sword  o'  the  felon,  trembling  at  his  side. 

Fit  creature  of  a  coward,  unsheathed  the  thing 

And  would  have  pinned  him  through  the  poison-bag 

To  the  waU  and  left  him  there  to  palpitate. 

As  you  serve  scorpions,  but  men  interposed  — 

Disarmed  me,  gave  his  life  to  him  again 

That  he  might  take  mine  and  the  other  lives  ; 

And  he  has  done  so.     I  submit  myself  !  " 

The  priest  says  —  oh,  and  in  the  main  result 
The  facts  asseverate,  he  truly  says. 
As  to  the  very  act  and  deed  of  him. 
However  you  mistrust  the  mind  o'  the  man  — 
The  flight  was  just  for  flight's  sake,  no  pretext 
For  aught  except  to  set  Pompilia  free. 
He  says,  "  I  cite  the  husband's  self's  worst  charge 
In  proof  of  my  best  word  for  both  of  us. 
Be  it  conceded  that  so  many  times 
We  took  our  pleasure  in  his  palace  :  then. 
What  need  to  fly  at  all  ?  —  or  flying  no  less, 
What  need  to  outrage  the  lips  sick  and  white 
Of  a  woman,  and  bring  ruin  down  beside. 
By  halting  when  Rome  lay  one  stage  beyond  ?  " 
So  does  he  vindicate  Pompilia's  fame. 
Confirm  her  story  in  all  points  but  one  — 
This  ;  that,  so  fleeing  and  so  breathing  forth 
Her  last  strength  in  the  prayer  to  halt  awhile. 
She  makes  confusion  of  the  reddening  white 
Which  was  the  sunset  when  her  strength  gave  way, 
And  the  next  sunrise  and  its  whitening  red 
Which  she  revived  in  when  her  husband  came  : 
She  mixes  both  times,  morn  and  eve,  in  one. 
Having  lived  through  a  blank  of  night  'twixt  each 
Though  dead-asleep,  unaware  as  a  corpse. 
She  on  the  bed  above  ;  her  friend  below 
Watched  in  the  doorway  of  the  inn  the  while. 
Stood  i'  the  red  o'  the  morn,  that  she  mistakes, 
In  act  to  rouse  and  quicken  the  tardy  crew 
And  hurry  out  the  horses,  have  the  stage 


THE   OTHER   HALF-ROME  95 

Over,  the  last  league,  reach  Rome  and  be  safe : 

When  up  came  Guide. 

Guide's  tale  begins  — 
How  he  and  his  whole  household,  drunk  to  death 
By  some  enchanted  potion,  poppied  drugs 
Plied  by  the  wife,  lay  powerless  in  gross  sleep 
And  left  the  spoilers  unimpeded  way, 
Could  not  shake  off  their  poison  and  pursue, 
TiU  noontide,  then  made  shift  to  get  on  horse 
And  did  pursue  :  which  means  he  took  his  time, 
Pressed  on  no  more  than  lingered  after,  step 
By  step,  just  making  sure  o'  the  fugitives. 
Till  at  the  nick  of  time,  he  saw  his  chance. 
Seized  it,  came  up  with  and  surprised  the  pair. 
How  he  must  needs  have  gnawn  lip  and  gnashed  teeth, 
Taking  successively  at  tower  and  town. 
Village  and  roadside,  still  the  same  report, 

"  Yes,  such  a  pair  arrived  an  hour  ago, 
Sat  in  the  carriage  just  where  now  you  stand, 
While  we  got  horses  ready,  —  turned  deaf  ear 
To  all  entreaty  they  would  even  alight ; 
Counted  the  minutes  and  resumed  their  course." 
Would  they  indeed  escape,  arrive  at  Rome, 
Leave  no  least  loop-hole  to  let  murder  through. 
But  foil  him  of  his  captured  infamy. 
Prize  of  guilt  proved  and  perfect  ?     So  it  seemed  : 
Till,  oh  the  happy  chance,  at  last  stage,  Rome 
But  two  short  hours  off,  Castelnuovo  reached. 
The  guardian  angel  gave  reluctant  place, 
Satan  stepped  forward  with  alacrity, 
Pompilia's  flesh  and  blood  succumbed,  perforce 
A  halt  was,  and  her  husband  had  his  wiU. 
Perdue  he  couched,  counted  out  hour  by  hour 
TiU  he  should  spy  in  the  east  a  signal-streak  — 
Night  had  been,  morrow  was,  triumph  would  be. 
Do  you  see  the  plan  deliciously  complete  ? 
The  rush  upon  the  unsuspecting  sleep. 
The  easy  execution,  the  outcry 
Over  the  deed,  "  Take  notice  aU  the  world  ! 
These  two  dead  bodies,  locked  still  in  embrace,  — 
The  man  is  Caponsacchi  and  a  priest, 
The  woman  is  my  wife  :  they  fled  me  late, 
Thus  have  I  found  and  you  behold  them  thus,^ 
And  may  judge  me  :  do  you  approve  or  no  ?  " 

Success  did  seem  not  so  improbable. 

But  that  already  Satan's  laugh  was  heard. 


96  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

His  black  back  turned  on  Guido  —  left  i'  the  lurch, 

Or  rather,  balked  of  suit  and  service  now. 

Left  to  improve  on  both  by  one  deed  more, 

Bum  up  the  better  at  no  distant  day. 

Body  and  soul  one  holocaust  to  hell. 

Anyhow,  of  this  natural  consequence 

Did  just  the  last  link  of  the  long  chain  snap  : 

For  an  eruption  was  o'  the  priest,  alive 

And  alert,  calm,  resolute  and  formidable, 

Not  the  least  look  of  fear  in  that  broad  brow  — 

One  not  to  be  disposed  of  by  surprise. 

And  armed  moreover  —  who  had  guessed  as  much  ? 

Yes,  there  stood  he  in  secular  costume 

Complete  from  head  to  heel,  with  sword  at  side, 

He  seemed  to  know  the  trick  of  perfectly. 

There  was  no  prompt  suppression  of  the  man 

As  he  said  calmly,  "  I  have  saved  your  wife 

From  death ;  there  was  no  other  way  but  this  ; 

Of  what  do  I  defraud  you  except  death  ? 

Charge  any  wrong  beyond,  I  answer  it." 

Guido,  the  valorous,  had  met  his  match. 

Was  forced  to  demand  help  instead  of  fight, 

Bid  the  authorities  o'  the  place  lend  aid 

And  make  the  best  of  a  broken  matter  so. 

They  soon  obeyed  the  summons  —  I  suppose. 

Apprised  and  ready,  or  not  far  to  seek  — 

Laid  hands  on  Caponsacchi,  found  in  fault, 

A  priest  yet  flagrantly  accoutred  thus,  — 

Then,  to  make  good  Count  Guide's  further  charge, 

Proceeded,  prisoner  made  lead  the  way. 

In  a  crowd,  upstairs  to  the  chamber-door, 

Where  wax-white,  dead  asleep,  deep  beyond  dream, 

As  the  priest  laid  her,  lay  Pompilia  yet. 

And  as  he  mounted  step  and  step  with  the  crowd 
How  I  see  Guido  taking  heart  again ! 
He  knew  his  wife  so  well  and  the  way  of  her  — 
How  at  the  outbreak  she  would  shroud  her  shame 
In  hell's  heart,  would  it  mercifully  yawn  — 
How,  failing  that,  her  forehead  to  his  foot. 
She  would  crouch  silent  till  the  great  doom  fell. 
Leave  him  triumphant  with  the  crowd  to  see 
Guilt  motionless  or  writhing  like  a  worm  I 
No  !     Second  misadventure,  this  worm  turned, 
I  told  you  :  would  have  slain  him  on  the  spot 
With  his  own  weapon,  but  they  seized  her  hands  -. 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  97 

Leaving  her  tongue  free,  as  it  tolled  the  knell 

Of  Guido's  hope  so  lively  late.     The  past 

Took  quite  another  shape  now.     She  who  shrieked 

"  At  least  and  forever  I  am  mine  and  God's, 
Thanks  to  his  liberating  angel  Death  — 
Never  again  degraded  to  be  yours 
The  ignoble  noble,  the  unmanly  man, 
The  beast  below  the  beast  in  brntishness  !  "  — 
This  was  the  froward  child,  "  the  restif  Iamb 
Used  to  be  cherished  in  his  breast,"  he  groaned  — 

"  Eat  from  his  hand  and  drink  from  out  his  cup, 
The  while  his  fingers  pushed  their  loving  way 
Through  curl  on  curl  of  that  soft  coat  —  alas, 
And  she  all  silverly  baaed  gratitude 
"While  meditating  mischief  !  "  —  and  so  forth. 
He  must  invent  another  story  now  ! 
The  ins  and  outs  o'  the  rooms  were  searched  :  he  found 
Or  showed  for  found  the  abominable  prize  — 
Love-letters  from  his  wife  who  cannot  write. 
Love-letters  in  reply  o'  the  priest  —  thank  God  !  — 
Who  can  write  and  confront  his  character 
"With  this,  and  prove  the  false  thing  forged  throughout : 
Spitting  whereat,  he  needs  must  spatter  whom 
But  Guido's  self  ?  —  that  forged  and  falsified 
One  letter  called  PompHia's,  past  dispute : 
Then  why  not  these  to  make  sure  still  more  sure  ? 

So  was  the  case  concluded  then  and  there : 

Guido  preferred  his  charges  in  due  form. 

Called  on  the  law  to  adjudicate,  consigned 

The  accused  ones  to  the  Prefect  of  the  place. 

(Oh  mouse-birth  of  that  mountain-like  revenge  !) 

And  so  to  his  own  place  betook  himself 

After  the  spring  that  failed,  —  the  wildcat's  way. 

The  captured  parties  were  conveyed  to  Rome ; 

Investigation  followed  here  i'  the  court  — 

Soon  to  review  the  fruit  of  its  own  work, 

From  then  to  now  being  eight  months  and  no  more. 

Guido  kept  out  of  sight  and  safe  at  home  : 

The  Abate,  brother  Paolo,  helped  most 

At  words  when  deeds  were  out  of  question,  pushed 

Nearest  the  purple,  best  played  deputy, 

So,  pleaded,  Guido's  representative 

At  the  court  shall  soon  try  Guido's  self,  —  what 's  more, 

The  court  that  also  took  —  I  told  you,  Sir  — 

That  statement  of  the  couple,  how  a  cheat 


98  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Had  been  i'  the  birth  of  the  babe,  no  child  of  theirs. 
That  was  the  prelude  ;  this,  the  play's  first  act : 
Whereof  we  wait  what  comes,  crown,  close  of  aU. 

Well,  the  result  was  something  of  a  shade 
On  the  parties  thus  accused,  —  how  otherwise  ? 
Shade,  but  with  shine  as  unmistakable. 
Each  had  a  prompt  defence  :  Pompilia  first  — 

"  Earth  was  made  hell  to  me  who  did  no  harm  : 
I  only  could  emerge  one  way  from  hell 
By  catching  at  the  one  hand  held  me,  so 
I  caught  at  it  and  thereby  stepped  to  heaven  : 
If  that  be  wrong,  do  with  me  what  you  wiU !  " 
Then  Caponsacchi  with  a  grave  grand  sweep 
O'  the  arm  as  though  his  soul  warned  baseness  oflE  — 

"  If  as  a  man,  then  much  more  as  a  priest 
I  hold  me  bound  to  help  weak  innocence  : 
If  so  my  worldly  reputation  burst. 
Being,  the  bubble  it  is,  why,  burst  it  may  : 
Blame  I  can  bear  though  not  blameworthiness. 
But  use  your  sense  first,  see  if  the  miscreant  proved, 
The  man  who  tortured  thus  the  woman,  thus 
Have  not  both  laid  the  trap  and  fixed  the  lure 
Over  the  pit  should  bury  body  and  soul ! 
His  facts  are  lies  :  his  letters  are  the  fact  — 
An  infiltration  flavored  with  himself  ! 
As  for  the  fancies  —  whether  .  .  .  what  is  it  you  say  ? 
The  lady  loves  me,  whether  I  love  her 
In  the  forbidden  sense  of  your  surmise,  — 
If,  with  the  mid-day  blaze  of  truth  above. 
The  unlidded  eye  of  God  awake,  aware, 
You  needs  must  pry  about  and  trace  the  birth 
Of  each  stray  beam  of  light  may  traverse  night, 
To  the  night's  sun  that 's  Lucifer  himself, 
Do  so,  at  other  time,  in  other  place. 
Not  now  nor  here  !     Enough  that  first  to  last 
I  never  touched  her  lip  nor  she  my  hand, 
Nor  either  of  us  thought  a  thought,  much  less 
Spoke  a  word  which  the  Virgin  might  not  hear. 
Be  such  your  question,  thus  I  answer  it." 

Then  the  court  had  to  make  its  mind  up,  spoke. 
"  It  is  a  thorny  question,  yea,  a  tale 
Hard  to  believe,  but  not  impossible  : 
Who  can  be  absolute  for  either  side  ? 
A  middle  course  is  happily  open  yet. 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  99 

Here  has  a  blot  surprised  the  social  blank,  — 

Whether  through  favor,  feebleness  or  fault, 

No  matter,  leprosy  has  touched  our  robe 

And  we  unclean  must  needs  be  purified. 

Here  is  a  wife  makes  holiday  from  home, 

A  priest  caught  playing  truant  to  his  church, 

In  masquerade  moreover :  both  allege 

Enough  excuse  to  stop  our  lifted  scourge 

Which  else  would  heavily  fall.     On  the  other  hand, 

Here  is  a  husband,  ay  and  man  of  mark. 

Who  comes  complaining  here,  demands  redress 

As  if  he  were  the  pattern  of  desert  — 

The  while  those  plaguy  allegations  frown, 

Forbid  we  grant  him  the  redress  he  seeks. 

To  all  men  be  our  moderation  known  ! 

Rewarding  none  while  compensating  each, 

Hurting  all  round  though  harming  nobody, 

Husband,  wife,  priest,  scot-free  not  one  shall  'scape, 

Yet  priest,  wife,  husband,  boast  the  unbroken  head 

From  application  of  our  excellent  oil : 

So  that,  whatever  be  the  fact,  in  fine, 

We  make  no  miss  of  justice  in  a  sort. 

First,  let  the  husband  stomach  as  he  may. 

His  wife  shall  neither  be  returned  him,  no  — 

Nor  branded,  whipped  and  caged,  but  just  consigned 

To  a  convent  and  the  quietude  she  craves  ; 

So  is  he  rid  of  his  domestic  plague  : 

What  better  thing  can  happen  to  a  man  ? 

Next,  let  the  priest  retire  —  unshent,  unshamed. 

Unpunished  as  for  perpetrating  crime. 

But  relegated  (not  imprisoned.  Sirs  !) 

Sent  for  three  years  to  clarify  his  youth 

At  Civita,  a  rest  by  the  way  to  Rome : 

There  let  his  life  skim  ofB  its  last  of  lees 

Nor  keep  this  dubious  color.     Judged  the  cause : 

All  parties  may  retire,  content,  we  hope." 

That 's  Rome's  way,  the  traditional  road  of  law ; 

Whither  it  leads  is  what  remains  to  teU. 

The  priest  went  to  his  relegation-place. 

The  wife  to  her  convent,  brother  Paolo 

To  the  arms  of  brother  Guide  with  the  news 

And  this  beside  —  his  charge  was  countercharged  ; 

The  Comparini,  his  old  brace  of  hates. 

Were  breathed  and  vigilant  and  venomous  now  — 

Had  shot  a  second  bolt  where  the  first  stuck, 


100  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  followed  up  the  pending  dowry-suit 

By  a  procedure  should  release  the  wife 

From  so  much  of  the  marriage-bond  as  barred 

Escape  when  Guido  turned  the  screw  too  much 

On  his  wife's  flesh  and  blood,  as  husband  may. 

No  more  defence,  she  turned  and  made  attack, 

Claimed  now  divorce  from  bed  and  board,  in  short : 

Pleaded  such  subtle  strokes  of  cruelty. 

Such  slow  sure  siege  laid  to  her  body  and  soul, 

As,  proved,  —  and  proofs  seemed  coming  thick  and  fast,  -^ 

Would  gain  both  freedom  and  the  dowry  back 

Even  should  the  first  suit  leave  them  in  his  grasp  : 

So  urged  the  Comparini  for  the  wife. 

Guido  had  gained  not  one  of  the  good  things 

He  grasped  at  by  his  creditable  plan 

O'  the  flight  and  following  and  the  rest :  the  suit 

That  smouldered  late  was  fanned  to  fury  new, 

This  adjunct  came  to  help  with  fiercer  fire, 

While  he  had  got  himself  a  quite  new  plague  — 

Found  the  world's  face  an  universal  grin 

At  this  last  best  of  the  Hundred  Merry  Tales 

Of  how  a  young  and  spritely  clerk  devised 

To  carry  oS  a  spouse  that  moped  too  much, 

And  cured  her  of  the  vapors  in  a  trice : 

And  how  the  husband,  playing  Vulcan's  part, 

Told  by  the  Sun,  started  in  hot  pursuit 

To  catch  the  lovers,  and  came  halting  up, 

Cast  his  net,  and  then  called  the  Gods  to  see 

The  convicts  in  their  rosy  impudence  — 

Whereat  said  Mercury  "  Would  that  I  were  Mars  !  " 

Oh  it  was  rare,  and  naughty  all  the  same  ! 

Brief,  the  wife's  courage  and  cunning,  —  the  priest's  show 

Of  chivalry  and  adroitness,  —  last  not  least, 

The  husband  —  how  he  ne'er  showed  teeth  at  aU, 

Whose  bark  had  promised  biting  ;  but  just  sneaked 

Back  to  his  kennel,  tail  'twixt  legs,  as  't  were,  — 

All  this  was  hard  to  gulp  down  and  digest. 

So  pays  the  devil  his  Uegeman,  brass  for  gold. 

But  this  was  at  Arezzo :  here  in  Rome 

Brave  Paolo  bore  up  against  it  all  — 

Battled  it  out,  nor  wanting  to  himself 

Nor  Guido  nor  the  House  whose  weight  he  bore 

Pillar-like,  by  no  force  of  arm  but  brain. 

He  knew  his  Rome,  what  wheels  to  set  to  work  ; 

Plied  influential  folk,  pressed  to  the  ear 

Of  the  efficacious  purple,  pushed  his  way 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  101 

To  the  old  Pope's  self,  — past  decency  indeed,  — 
Praying  him  take  the  matter  in  his  hands 
Out  of  the  regular  court's  incompetence. 
But  times  are  changed  and  nephews  out  of  date 
And  favoritism  unfashionable  :  the  Pope 
Said  "  Render  Caesar  what  is  Caesar's  due  !  " 
As  for  the  Comparini's  counter-plea, 
He  met  that  by  a  counter-plea  again, 
Made  Guido  claim  divorce  —  with  help  so  fax 
By  the  trial's  issue  :  for,  why  punishment 
However  slight  unless  for  guiltiness 
However  slender  ?  —  and  a  molehill  serves 
Much  as  a  mountain  of  offence  this  way. 
So  was  he  gathering  strength  on  every  side 
And  growing  more  and  more  to  menace  —  when 
All  of  a  terrible  moment  came  the  blow 
That  beat  down  Paolo's  fence,  ended  the  play 
O'  the  foil  and  brought  Mannaia  on  the  stage. 

Five  months  had  passed  now  since  Pompilia's  flight, 

Months  spent  in  peace  among  the  Convert  nuns  : 

This,  —  being,  as  it  seemed,  for  Guide's  sake 

Solely,  what  pride  might  call  imprisonment 

And  quote  as  something  gained,  to  friends  at  home,  — 

This  naturally  was  at  Guide's  charge  : 

Grudge  it  he  might,  but  penitential  fare. 

Prayers,  preachmgs,  who  but  he  defrayed  the  cost  ? 

So,  Paolo  dropped,  as  proxy,  doit  by  doit 

Like  heart's  blood,  till  —  what 's  here  ?  What  notice  comes  ? 

The  Convent's  self  makes  application  bland 

That,  since  Pompilia's  health  is  fast  o'  the  wane, 

She  may  have  leave  to  go  combine  her  cure 

Of  soul  with  cure  of  body,  mend  her  mind 

Together  with  her  thin  arms  and  sunk  eyes 

That  want  fresh  air  outside  the  convent-wall, 

Say  in  a  friendly  house,  —  and  which  so  fit 

As  a  certain  vUla  in  the  Pauline  way, 

That  happens  to  hold  Pietro  and  his  wife. 

The  natural  guardians  ?     "  Oh,  and  shift  the  care 

You  shift  the  cost,  too  ;  Pietro  pays  in  turn. 

And  lightens  Guido  of  a  load  !     And  then. 

Villa  or  convent,  two  names  for  one  thing, 

Always  the  sojourn  means  imprisonment, 

DomMS  pro  carcere  —  nowise  we  relax, 

Nothing  abate  :  how  answers  Paolo  ?  " 


102  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

You, 
What  would  you  answer  ?     All  so  smooth  and  fair, 
Even  Paul's  astuteness  sniffed  no  harm  i'  the  world. 
He  authorized  the  transfer,  saw  it  made 
And,  two  months  after,  reaped  the  fruit  of  the  same, 
Having  to  sit  down,  rack  his  brain  and  find 
What  phrase  should  serve  him  best  to  notify 
Our  Guido  that  by  happy  providence 
A  son  and  heir,  a  babe  was  born  to  him 
r  the  villa,  —  go  tell  sympathizing  friends  ! 
Yes,  such  had  been  Pompilia's  privilege  : 
She,  when  she  fled,  was  one  month  gone  with  child, 
Known  to  herself  or  unknown,  either  way 
Availing  to  explain  (say  men  of  art) 
The  strange  and  passionate  precipitance 
Of  maiden  startled  into  motherhood 
Which  changes  body  and  soul  by  nature's  law. 
So  when  the  she-dove  breeds,  strange  yearnings  come 

,  For  the  unknown  shelter  by  undreamed-of  shores. 
And  there  is  born  a  blood-pulse  in  her  heart 
To  fight  if  needs  be,  though  with  flap  of  wing, 
For  the  wool-flock  or  the  fur-tuft,  though  a  hawk 
Contest  the  prize,  —  wherefore,  she  knows  not  yet. 
Anyhow,  thus  to  Guido  came  the  news. 

"  I  shall  have  quitted  Rome  ere  you  arrive 
To  take  the  one  step  left,"  —  wrote  Paolo. 
Then  did  the  winch  o'  the  winepress  of  all  hate, 
Vanity,  disappointment,  grudge  and  greed. 
Take  the  last  turn  that  screws  out  pure  revenge 
With  a  bright  bubble  at  the  brim  beside  — 
By  an  heir's  birth  he  was  assured  at  once 
O'  the  main  prize,  all  the  money  in  dispute  : 
Pompilia's  dowry  might  revert  to  her 
Or  stay  with  him  as  law's  caprice  should  point,  — 
But  now  —  now  —  what  was  Pietro's  shall  be  hers. 
What  was  hers  shall  remain  her  own,  —  if  hers. 
Why  then,  — oh,  not  her  husband's  but  —  her  heir's  ! 
That  heir  being  his  too,  all  grew  his  at  last 
By  this  road  or  by  that  road,  since  they  join. 
Before,  why,  push  he  Pietro  out  o'  the  world,  — 
The  current  of  the  money  stopped,  you  see, 
Pompilia  being  proved  no  Pietro's  chUd : 
Or  let  it  be  Pompilia's  life  he  quenched, 
Again  the  current  of  the  money  stopped,  — 
Guido  debarred  his  rights  as  husband  soon. 
So  the  new  process  threatened ;  —  now,  the  chance, 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  103 

Now,  the  resplendent  minute !     Clear  the  earth, 
Cleanse  the  house,  let  the  three  hut  disappear, 
A  child  remains,  depositary  of  aU, 
That  Guido  may  enjoy  his  own  again, 
Repair  all  losses  by  a  master-stroke. 
Wipe  ont  the  past,  all  done  all  left  undone, 
Swell  the  good  present  to  best  evermore. 
Die  into  new  life,  which  let  blood  baptize ! 

So,  i'  the  blue  of  a  sudden  sulphur-blaze, 
Both  why  there  was  one  step  to  take  at  Rome, 
And  why  he  should  not  meet  with  Paolo  there, 
He  saw  —  the  ins  and  outs  to  the  heart  of  hell  — 
And  took  the  straight  line  thither  swift  and  sure. 
He  rushed  to  Vittiano,  foundJour  sons  o'  the  soU, 
Brutes  of  his  breeding,  with  one  spark  i'  the  clod 
That  served  for  a  soul,  the  looking  up  to  him 
Or  aught  called  Franceschini  as  Ufe,  death, 
Heaven,  hell,  —  lord  paramount,  assembled  these. 
Harangued,  equipped,  instructed,  pressed  each  clod 
With  his  will's  imprint ;  then  took  horse,  pUed  spur, 
And  so  arrived,  all  five  of  them,  at  Rome 
On  Christmas-Eve,  and  forthwith  found  themselves 
Installed  i'  the  vacancy  and  solitude 
Left  them  by  Paolo,  the  considerate  man 
Who,  good  as  his  word,  had  disappeared  at  once 
As  if  to  leave  the  stage  free.     A  whole  week 
Did  Guido  spend  in  study  of  his  part, 
Then  played  it  fearless  of  a  failure.     One, 
Struck  the  year's  clock  whereof  the  hours  are  days, 
And  off  was  rung  o'  the  little  wheels  the  chime 

"  Good  will  on  earth  and  peace  to  man  :  "  bat,  two. 
Proceeded  the  same  bell,  and,  evening  come, 
The  dreadful  five  felt  finger-wise  their  way 
Across  the  town  by  blind  cuts  and  black  turns 
To  the  little  lone  suburban  villa  ;  knocked  — 

"  Who  may  be  outside  ?  "  called  a  well-known  voice. 

"  A  friend  of  Caponsacchi's  bringing  friends 
A  letter." 

That 's  a  test,  the  excusers  say  : 
Ay,  and  a  test  conclusive,  I  return. 
What  ?     Had  that  name  brought  touch  of  guilt  or  taste 
Of  fear  with  it,  aught  to  dash  the  present  joy 
With  memory  of  the*  sorrow  just  at  end,  — 
She,  happy  in  her  parents'  arms  at  length, 
With  the  new  blessing  of  the  two-weeks'  babe,  — 


104  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

How  had  that  name's  announcement  moved  the  wife  ? 

Or,  as  the  other  slanders  circulate, 

Were  Caponsacchi  no  rare  visitant 

Oh  nights  and  days  whither  safe  harbor  lured, 

What  bait  had  been  i'  the  name  to  ope  the  door  ? 

The  promise  of  a  letter  ?     Stealthy  guests 

Have  secret  watchwords,  private  entrances  : 

The  man's  own  self  might  have  been  found  inside 

And  all  the  scheme  made  frustrate  by  a  word. 

No :  but  since  Guido  knew,  none  knew  so  well, 

The  man  had  never  since  returned  to  Rome 

Nor  seen  the  wife's  face  more  than  villa's  front, 

So,  could  not  be  at  hand  to  warn  or  save,  — 

For  that,  he  took  this  sure  way  to  the  end. 

"  Come  ill,"  bade  poor  Violante  cheerfully, 
Drawing  the  door-bolt :  that  death  was  the  first. 
Stabbed  through  and  through.     Pietro,  close  on  her  heels, 
Set  up  a  cry  —  "  Let  me  confess  myself  ! 
Grant  but  confession  !  "     Cold  steel  was  the  grant. 
Then  came  Pompilia's  turn. 

Then  they  escaped. 
The  noise  o'  the  slaughter  roused  the  neighborhood. 
They  had  forgotten  just  the  one  thing  more 
Which  saves  i'  the  circumstance,  the  ticket,  to  wit, 
Which  puts  post-horses  at  a  traveller's  use  : 
So,  all  on  foot,  desperate  through  the  dark 
Reeled  they  like  drunkards  along  open  road, 
Accomplished  a  prodigious  twenty  miles 
Homeward,  and  gained  Baccano  very  near. 
Stumbled  at  last,  deaf,  dumb,  blind  through  the  feat, 
Into  a  grange  and,  one  dead  heap,  slept  there 
TiU  the  pursuers  hard  upon  their  trace 
Reached  them  and  took  them,  red  from  head  to  hefel, 
And  brought  them  to  the  prison  where  they  lie. 
The  couple  were  laid  i'  the  church  two  days  ago, 
And  the  wife  lives  yet  by  miracle. 

All  is  told. 
You  hardly  need  ask  what  CoUnt  Guido  says. 
Since  something  he  must  say.     "  I  own  the  deed  —  " 
(He  cannot  choose,  —  but  — )  "  I  declare  the  same 
Just  and  inevitable,  —  since  no  way  else 
Was  left  me,  but  by  this  of  taking  life, 
To  save  my  honor  which  is  more  than  life. 
I  exercised  a  husband's  rights."    To  which 


THE   OTHER  HALF-ROME  105 

The  answer  is  as  prompt  —  "  There  was  no  fault 

In  any  one  o'  the  three  to  punish  thus : 

Neither  i'  the  wife,  who  kept  all  faith  to  you, 

Nor  in  the  parents,  whom  yourself  first  duped, 

Robbed  and  maltreated,  then  turned  out  of  doors. 

You  wronged  and  they  endured  wrong ;  yours  the  fault. 

Next,  had  endurance  overpassed  the  mark 

And  turned  resentment  needing  remedy,  — 

Nay,  put  the  absurd  impossible  case,  for  once  — 

You  were  all  blameless  of  the  blame  alleged 

And  they  blameworthy  where  you  fix  all  blame. 

Still,  why  this  violation  of  the  law  ? 

Yourself  elected  law  should  take  its  course. 

Avenge  wrong,  or  show  vengeance  not  your  right ; 

Why,  only  when  the  balance  in  law's  hand 

Trembles  against  you  and  inclines  the  way 

O'  the  other  party,  do  you  make  protest. 

Renounce  arbitrament,  flying  out  of  court. 

And  crying  '  Honor's  hurt  the  sword  must  cure '  ? 

Aha,  and  so  i'  the  middle  of  each  suit 

Trying  i'  the  courts,  —  and  you  had  three  in  play 

"With  an  appeal  to  the  Pope's  self  beside,  — 

What,  you  may  chop  and  change  and  right  your  wrongs, 

Leaving  the  law  to  lag  as  she  thinks  fit  ?  " 

That  were  too  temptingly  commodious,  Count ! 

One  would  have  stUl  a  remedy  in  reserve 

Should  reach  the  safest  oldest  sinner,  you  see  ! 

One's  honor  forsooth  ?     Does  that  take  hurt  alone 

From  the  extreme  outrage  ?     I  who  have  no  wife, 

Being  yet  sensitive  in  my  degree 

As  Guido,  —  must  discover  hurt  elsewhere 

Which,  half  compounded  for  in  days  gone  by. 

May  profitably  break  out  now  afresh. 

Need  cure  from  my  own  expeditious  hands. 

The  lie  that  was,  as  it  were,  imputed  me 

When  you  objected  to  my  contract's  clause,  — 

The  theft  as  good  as,  one  may  say,  alleged. 

When  you,  co-heir  in  a  will,  excepted.  Sir, 

To  my  administration  of  effects, 

—  Aha,  do  you  think  law  disposed  of  these  ? 

My  honor 's  touched  and  shall  deal  death  around ! 

Count,  that  were  too  commodious,  I  repeat ! 

If  any  law  be  imperative  on  us  all. 

Of  all  are  you  the  enemy  :  out  with  you 

From  the  common  light  and  air  and  life  of  man  ! 


IV. 

TEETIUM  QUID. 

Teub,  Excellency  —  as  his  Highness  says, 

Though  she 's  not  dead  yet,  she  's  as  good  as  stretched 

Symmetrical  beside  the  other  two  ; 

Though  he 's  not  judged  yet,  he 's  the  same  as  Judged, 

So  do  the  facts  abound  and  superabound : 

And  nothing  hinders  that  we  lift  the  case 

Out  of  the  shade  into  the  shine,  allow 

Qualified  persons  to  pronounce  at  last, 

Nay,  edge  in  an  authoritative  word 

Between  this  rabble's-brabble  of  dolts  and  fools 

Who  make  up  reasonless  unreasoning  Rome. 

«  Now  for  the  Trial !  "  they  roar  :  "  the  Trial  to  test 
The  truth,  weigh  husband  and  weigh  wife  alike 
I'  the  scales  of  law,  make  one  scale  kick  the  beam  !  " 
Law  's  a  machine  from  which,  to  please  the  mob, 
Truth  the  divinity  must  needs  descend 
And  clear  things  at  the  play's  fifth  act  —  aha ! 
Hammer  into  their  noddles  who  was  who 
And  what  was  what.     I  tell  the  simpletons, 

*  Could  law  be  competent  to  such  a  feat 
'T  were  done  already  :  what  begins  next  week 
Is  end  o'  the  Trial,  last  link  of  a  chain 
Whereof  the  first  was  forged  three  years  ago 
When  law  addressed  herself  to  set  wrong  right, 
And  proved  so  slow  in  taking  the  first  step 
That  ever  some  new  grievance,  —  tort,  retort, 
On  one  or  the  other  side,  —  o'ertook  i'  the  game. 
Retarded  sentence,  till  this  deed  of  death 
Is  thrown  in,  as  it  were,  last  bale  to  boat 
Crammed  to  the  edge  with  cargo  —  or  passengers  ? 
'  Trecentos  inseris  :  ohe,  jam  satis  est  ! 
Hue  appelle  !  '  —  passengers,  the  word  must  be." 
Long  since,  the  boat  was  loaded  to  my  eyes. 
To  hear  the  rabble  and  brabble,  you  'd  call  the  case 
Fused  and  confused  past  human  finding  out. 
One  calls  the  square  round,  t'  other  the  round  square  — 


TERTIUM  QUID  107 

And  pardonably  in  that  first  surprise 

O'  the  blood  that  fell  and  splashed  the  diagram  : 

But  now  we  've  used  our  eyes  to  the  violent  hue 

Can't  we  look  through  the  crimson  and  trace  lines  ? 

It  makes  a  man  despair  of  history, 

Eusebius  and  the  established  fact  —  fig's  end  ! 

Oh,  give  the  fools  their  Trial,  rattle  away 

With  the  leash  of  lawyers,  two  on  either  side  — 

One  barks,  one  bites,  —  Masters  Arcangeli 

And  Spreti,  —  that 's  the  husband's  ultimate  hope 

Against  the  Fisc  and  the  other  kind  of  Fisc, 

Bound  to  do  barking  for  the  wife  :  bow  — wow  ! 

Why,  Excellency,  we  and  his  Highness  here 

Would  settle  the  matter  as  sufficiently 

As  ever  will  Advocate  This  and  Fiscal  That 

And  Judge  the  Other,  with  even  —  a  word  and  a  wink— 

We  well  know  who  for  ultimate  arbiter. 

Let  us  beware  o'  the  basset-table  —  lest 

We  jog  the  elbow  of  Her  Eminence, 

Jostle  his  cards,  —  he  'U  rap  you  out  a  .   .  .    st ! 

By  the  window-seat !     And  here  's  the  Marquis  too ! 

Indulge  me  but  a  moment :  if  I  fail 

—  Favored  with  such  an  audience,  understand  !  — 

To  set  things  right,  why,  class  me  with  the  mob 

As  understander  of  the  mind  of  man  ! 

The  mob,  —  now,  that 's  just  how  the  error  comes  ! 

Bethink  you  that  you  have  to  deal  with  plebs, 

The  commonalty;  this  is  an  episode 

In  burgess-life,  —  why  seek  to  aggrandize. 

Idealize,  denaturalize  the  class  ? 

People  talk  just  as  if  they  had  to  do 

With  a  noble  pair  that  .  .  .  Excellency,  your  ear ! 

Stoop  to  me.  Highness,  —  hsten  and  look  yourselves  ! 

This  Pietro,  this  Violante,  live  their  life 

At  Rome  in  the  easy  way  that 's  far  from  worst 

Even  for  their  betters,  —  themselves  love  themselves, 

Spend  their  own  oil  in  feeding  their  own  lamp 

That  their  own  faces  may  grow  bright  thereby. 

They  get  to  fifty  and  over :  how 's  the  lamp  ? 

Full  to  the  depth  o'  the  wick,  —  moneys  so  much ; 

And  also  with  a  remnant,  —  so  much  more 

Of  moneys,  —  which  there  's  no  consuming  now, 

But,  when  the  wick  shall  moulder  out  some  day, 

Failing  fresh  twist  of  tow  to  use  up  dregs. 


108  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Will  lie  a  prize  for  the  passer-by,  —  to  wit, 

Any  one  that  can  prove  himself  the  heir, 

Seeing,  the  couple  are  wanting  in  a  child  : 

Meantime  their  wick  swims  in  the  safe  broad  bowl 

O'  the  middle  rank,  —  not  raised  a  beacon's  height 

For  wind  to  ravage,  nor  dropped  till  lamp  graze  ground 

Like  cresset,  mudlarks  poke  now  here  now  there. 

Going  their  rounds  to  probe  the  ruts  i'  the  road 

Or  fish  the  luck  o'  the  puddle.     Pietro's  soul 

Was  satisfied  when  crony  smirked,  "  No  wine 

Like  Pietro's,  and  he  drinks  it  every  day  !  " 

His  wife's  heart  swelled  her  bodice,  joyed  its  fill 

When  neighbors  turned  heads  wistfully  at  church, 

Sighed  at  the  load  of  lace  that  came  to  pray. 

Well,  having  got  through  fifty  years  of  flare, 

They  burn  out  so,  indulge  so  their  dear  selves, 

That  Pietro  finds  himself  in  debt  at  last. 

As  he  were  any  lordling  of  us  all : 

And,  now  that  dark  begins  to  creep  on  day, 

Creditors  grow  uneasy,  talk  aside, 

Take  counsel,  then  importune  all  at  once. 

For  if  the  good  fat  rosy  careless  man, 

Who  has  not  laid  a  ducat  by,  decease  — 

Let  the  lamp  fall,  no  heir  at  hand  to  catch  — 

Why,  being  childless,  there 's  a  spilth  i'  the  street 

O'  the  remnant,  there  's  a  scramble  for  the  dregs 

By  the  stranger  :  so,  they  grant  binn  no  long  day 

But  come  in  a  body,  clamor  to  be  paid. 

What 's  his  resource  ?     He  asks  and  straight  obtains 

The  customary  largess,  dole  dealt  out 

To,  what  we  call  our  "  poor  dear  shamefaced  ones," 

In  secret  once  a  month  to  spare  the  shame 

O'  the  slothful  and  the  spendthrift,  —  pauper-saints 

The  Pope  puts  meat  i'  the  mouth  of,  ravens  they, 

And  providence  he  —  just  what  the  mob  admires  ! 

That  is,  instead  of  putting  a  prompt  foot 

On  selfish  worthless  human  slugs  whose  slime 

Has  failed  to  lubricate  their  path  in  life, 

Why,  the  Pope  picks  the  first  ripe  fruit  that  falls 

And  gracious  puts  it  in  the  vermin's  way. 

Pietro  could  never  save  a  dollar  ?     Straight 

He  must  be  subsidized  at  our  expense  : 

And  for  his  wife  —  the  harmless  household  sheep 

One  ought  not  to  see  harassed  in  her  age  — 

Judge,  by  the  way  she  bore  adversity. 


TERTIUM  QUID  109 

O'  the  patient  nature  you  ask  pity  for ! 

How  long,  now,  would  the  roughest  marketman, 

Handling  the  creatures  huddled  to  the  knife, 

Harass  a  mutton  ere  she  made  a  mouth 

Or  menaced  biting  ?     Yet  the  poor  sheep  here, 

Violante,  the  old  innocent  burgess-wife. 

In  her  first  difficulty  showed  great  teeth 

Fit  to  crunch  up  and  swallow  a  good  round  crime. 

She  meditates  die  tenure  of  the  Trust, 

Fidei  com/missum  is  the  lawyer-phrase. 

These  funds  that  only  want  an  heir  to  take  — 

Goes  o'er  the  gamut  o'  the  creditor's  cry 

By  semitones  from  whine  to  snarl  high  up 

And  growl  down  low,  one  scale  in  sundry  keys,— 

Pauses  with  a  little  compunction  for  the  face 

Of  Pietro  frustrate  of  its  ancient  cheer,  — 

Never  a  bottle  now  for  friend  at  need,  — 

Comes  to  a  stop  on  her  own  frittered  lace 

And  neighborly  condolences  thereat, 

Then  makes  her  mind  up,  sees  the  thing  to  do : 

And  so,  deliberate,  snaps  house-book  clasp, 

Posts  o£E  to  vespers,  missal  beneath  arm. 

Passes  the  proper  San  Lorenzo  by, 

Dives  down  a  little  lane  to  the  left,  is  lost 

In  a  labyrinth  of  dwellings  best  unnamed. 

Selects  a  certain  blind  one,  black  at  base, 

Blinking  at  top,  —  the  sign  of  we  know  what,  — 

One  candle  in  a  casement  set  to  wink 

Streetward,  do  service  to  no  shrine  inside,  — 

Mounts  thither  by  the  filthy  flight  of  stairs, 

Holding  the  cord  by  the  wall,  to  the  tip-top, 

Gropes  for  the  door  i'  the  dark,  ajar  of  course. 

Raps,  opens,  enters  in :  up  starts  a  thing 

Naked  as  needs  be  —  "  What,  you  rogue,  't  is  you  ? 

Back,  —  how  can  I  have  taken  a  farthing  yet  ? 

Mercy  on  me,  poor  sinner  that  I  am  ! 

Here  's  .  .  .  why,  I  took  you  for  Madonna's  seK 

With  all  that  sudden  swirl  of  silk  i'  the  place ! 

What  may  your  pleasure  be,  my  bonny  dame  ?  " 

Your  Excellency  supplies  aught  left  obscure  ? 

One  of  those  women  that  abound  in  Rome, 

Whose  needs  oblige  them  eke  out  one  poor  trade 

By  another  vile  one  :  her  ostensible  work 

Was  washing  clothes,  put  in  the  open  air 

At  the  cistern  by  Citorio ;  her  true  trade  — 

Whispering  to  idlers,  when  they  stopped  and  praised 


110  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  ankles  she  let  liberally  shine 
In  kneeling  at  the  slab  by  the  fountain-side, 
That  there  was  plenty  more  to  criticise 
At  home,  that  eve,  i'  the  house  where  candle  bUnked 
Decorously  above,  and  all  was  done 
I'  the  holy  fear  of  God  and  cheap  beside. 
Violante,  now,  had  seen  this  woman  wash, 
Noticed  and  envied  her  propitious  shape. 
Tracked  her  home  to  her  house-top,  noted  too, 
And  now  was  come  to  tempt  her  and  propose 
A  bargain  far  more  shameful  than  the  first 
Which  trafficked  her  virginity  away 
For  a  melon  and  three  pauls  at  twelve  years  old. 
Five  minutes'  talk  with  this  poor  child  of  Eve, 
Struck  was  the  bargain,  business  at  an  end  — 
"  Then,  six  months  hence,  that  person  whom  you  trust. 
Comes,  fetches  whatsoever  babe  it  be  ; 
I  keep  the  price  and  secret,  you  the  babe, 
Paying  beside  for  mass  to  make  all  straight : 
Meantime,  I  pouch  the  earnest-money-piece." 

Down-stairs  again  goes  fumbling  by  the  rope 
Violante,  triumphing  in  a  flourish  of  fire 
From  her  own  brain,  self-lit  by  such  success,  — 
Gains  church  in  time  for  the  Magnificat, 
And  gives  forth  "  My  reproof  is  taken  away. 
And  blessed  shall  mankind  proclaim  me  now," 
So  that  the  officiating  priest  turns  round 
To  see  who  proffers  the  obstreperous  praise  : 
Then  home  to  Pietro,  the  enraptured-much 
But  puzzled-more  when  told  the  wondrous  news  — 
How  orisons  and  works  of  charity, 
(Beside  that  pair  of  pinners  and  a  coif, 
Birthday  surprise  last  Wednesday  was  five  weeks) 
Had  borne  fruit  in  the  autumn  of  his  life,  — 
They,  or  the  Orvieto  in  a  double  dose. 
Anyhow,  she  must  keep  house  next  six  months, 
Lie  on  the  settle,  avoid  the  three-legged  stool. 
And,  chiefly,  not  be  crossed  in  wish  or  whim. 
And  the  result  was  like  to  be  an  heir. 

Accordingly,  when  time  was  come  about. 

He  found  himself  the  sire  indeed  of  this 

Francesca  Vittoria  PompUia  and  the  rest 

O'  the  names  whereby  he  sealed  her  his,  next  day. 

A  crime  complete  in  its  way  is  here,  I  hope  ? 


TEItTIUM  QUID  111 

Lies  to  God,  lies  to  man,  every  way  lies 

To  uature  and  civUity  and  the  mode  : 

Flat  robbery  of  the  proper  heirs  thus  foiled 

O'  the  due  succession,  —  and,  what  followed  thence, 

Robbery  of  God,  through  the  confessor's  ear 

Debarred  the  most  noteworthy  incident 

When  all  else  done  and  undone  twelvemonth  through 

Was  put  in  evidence  at  Easter-time. 

All  oflier  peccadillos !  —  but  this  one 

To  the  priest  who  comes  next  day  to  dine  with  us  ? 

'T  were  inexpedient ;  decency  forbade.     ■» 

Is  so  far  clear  ?     You  know  Violante  now, 
Compute  her  capability  of  crime 
By  this  authentic  instance  ?     Black  hard  cold 
Crime  like  a  stone  you  kick  up  with  your  foot 
I'  the  middle  of  a  field  ? 

I  thought  as  much. 
But  now,  a  question,  —  how  long  does  it  lie. 
The  bad  and  barren  bit  of  stufif  you  kick. 
Before  encroached  on  and  encompassed  round 
With  minute  moss,  weed,  wild-flower  —  made  alive 
By  worm,  and  fly,  and  foot  of  the  free  bird  ? 
Your  Highness,  —  healthy  minds  let  bygones  be, 
Leave  old  crimes  to  grow  young  and  virtuous-like 
I'  the  sun  and  air ;  so  time  treats  ugly  deeds : 
They  take  the  natural  blessing  of  all  change- 
There  was  the  joy  o'  the  husband  sLQy-sooth, 
The  softening  of  the  wife's  old  wicked  heart, 
Virtues  to  right  and  left,  profusely  paid 
If  so  they  might  compensate  the  saved  sin. 
And  then  the  sudden  existence,  dewy-dear, 
O'  the  rose  above  the  dungheap,  the  pure  child 
As  good  as  new  created,  since  withdrawn 
From  the  horror  of  the  pre-appointed  lot 
With  the  unknown  father  and  the  mother  known 
Too  well,  —  some  fourteen  years  of  squalid  youth, 
And  then  libertinage,  disease,  the  grave  — 
Hell  in  life  here,  hereafter  life  in  hell : 
Look  at  that  horror  and  this  soft  repose  ! 
Why,  moralist,  the  sin  has  saved  a  soul ! 
Then,  even  the  palpable  grievance  to  the  heirs  — 
'Faith,  this  was  no  frank  setting  hand  to  throat 
And  robbing  a  man,  but  .  .  .  Excellency,  by  your  leave. 
How  did  you  get  that  marvel  of  a  gem, 


112  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

The  sapphire  with  the  Graces  grand  and  Greek  ? 
The  story  is,  stooping  to  pick  a  stone 

From  the  pathway  through  a  vineyard  —  no-man's-land  — 
To  pelt  a  sparrow  with,  you  chanced  on  this : 
Why  now,  do  those  five  clowns  o'  the  family 
O'  liie  vinedresser  digest  their  porridge  worse 
That  not  one  keeps  it  in  his  goatskin  pouch 
To  do  flint' s-service  with  the  tinder-box  ? 
Don't  cheat  me,  don't  cheat  you,  don't  cheat  a  friend ! 
But  are  you  so  hard  on  who  jostles  just 
A  stranger  with  no  natural  sort  of  claim 
To  the  havings  and  the  holdings  (here  's  the  point) 
Unless  by  misadventure,  and  defect 
Of  that  which  ought  to  be  —  nay,  which  there  's  none 
Would  dare  so  much  as  wish  to  profit  by  — 
Since  who  dares  put  in  just  so  many  words 
"  May  Pietro  fail  to  have  a  chUd,  please  God  ! 
So  shall  his  house  and  goods  belong  to  me. 
The  sooner  that  his  heart  will  pine  betimes  "  ? 
Well  then,  God  does  n't  please,  nor  heart  shall  pine ! 
Because  he  has  a  child  at  last,  you  see. 
Or  seHsame  thing  as  though  a  child  it  were. 
He  thinks,  whose  sole  concern  it  is  to  think : 
If  he  accepts  it  why  should  you  demur  ? 

Moreover,  say  that  certain  sin  there  seem, 
The  proper  process  of  unsinning  sin 
Is  to  begin  well-doing  somehow  else. 
Pietro,  — remember,  with  no  sin  at  all 
r  the  substitution,  —  why,  this  gift  of  God 
Flung  in  his  lap  from  over  Paradise 
Steadied  him  in  a  moment,  set  binn  straight 
On  the  good  path  he  had  been  straying  from. 
Henceforward  no  more  wilfulness  and  waste. 
Cuppings,  carousings,  —  these  a  sponge  wiped  out. 
All  sort  of  self-denial  was  easy  now 
For  the  child's  sake,  the  chatelaine  to  be, 
Who  must  want  much  and  might  want  who  knows  what  ? 
And  so,  the  debts  were  paid,  habits  reformed, 
Expense  curtailed,  the  dowry  set  to  grow. 
As  for  the  wife,  —  I  said,  hers  the  whole  sin : 
So,  hers  the  exemplary  penance.     'T  was  a  text 
Whereon  folk  preached  and  praised,  the  district  through : 
"  Oh,  make  us  happy  and  you  make  us  good  ! 
It  all  comes  of  God  giving  her  a  child  : 
Such  graces  foUow  God's  best  earthly  gift !  " 


TERTIUM  QUID  113 

Here  you  put  by  my  guard,  pass  to  my  heart 

By  the  home-thrust  —  "  There 's  a  lie  at  base  of  all." 

Why,  thou  exact  Prince,  is  it  a  pearl  or  no, 

Yon  globe  upon  the  Principessa's  neck  ? 

That  great  round  glory  of  pellucid  stuff, 

A  fish  secreted  round  a  grain  of  grit ! 

Do  you  call  it  worthless  for  the  worthless  core  ? 

(Shedoesn't,whowelLknows  what  she  changed  for  it.) 

So,  to  our  brace  of  burgesses  again ! 

You  see  so  far  i'  the  story,  who  was  right, 

"Who  wrong,  who  neither,  don't  you  ?   What,  you  don't  ? 

Eh  ?     Well,  admit  there 's  somewhat  dark  i'  the  case, 

Let 's  on  —  the  rest  shall  clear,  I  prorhise  you. 

Leap  over  a  dozen  years  :  you  find,  these  passed, 

An  old  good  easy  creditable  sire, 

A  careful  housewife's  beaming  bustling  face. 

Both  wrapped  up  in  the  love  of  their  one  child, 

The  strange  tall  pale  beautiful  creature  grown 

Lily-like  out  o'  the  cleft  i'  the  sun-smit  rock 

To  bow  its,  white  miraculous  birth  of  buds 

I'  the  way  of  wandering  Joseph  and  his  spouse,  — 

So  painters  fancy :  here  it  was  a  fact. 

And  this  their  lUy,  —  could  they  but  transplant 

And  set  in  vase  to  stand  by  Solomon's  porch 

'Twixt  lion  and  lion !  —  this  PompUia  of  theirs. 

Could  they  see  worthily  married,  well  bestowed, 

In  house  and  home  !     And  why  despair  of  this 

With  Rome  to  choose  from,  save  the  topmost  rank  ? 

Themselves  would  help  the  choice  with  heart  and  soul, 

Throw  their  late  savings  in  a  common  heap 

To  go  with  the  dowry,  and  be  followed  iti  time 

By  the  heritage  legitimately  hers : 

And  when  such  paragon  was  found  and  fixed, 

Why,  they  might  chant  their  "  Nunc  dimittis  "  straight. 

Indeed  the  prize  was  simply  full  to  a  fault, 
Exorbitant  for  the  suitor  they  should  seek. 
And  social  class  should  choose  among,  these  cits. 
Yet  there 's  a  latitude :  exceptional  white 
Amid  the  general  brovni  o'  the  species,  lurks 
A  burgess  nearly  an  aristocrat. 
Legitimately  in  reach  :  look  out  for  him ! 
What  banker,  merchant,  has  seen  better  days, 
What  second-rate  painter  a-pushing  up. 
Poet  a-slipping  down,  shall  bid  the  best 
For  this  young  beauty  with  the  thumping  purse  ? 


114  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Alack,  were  it  but  one  of  such  as  these 
So  like  the  real  thing  that  they  pass  for  it, 
AU  had  gone  well !     Unluckily,  poor  souls, 
It  proved  to  be  the  impossible  thing  itself  ; 
Truth  and  not  sham :  hence  ruin  to  them  all. 

For,  Guido  Franceschini  was  the  head 
Of  an  old  family  in  Arezzo,  old 
To  that  degree  they  could  afford  be  poor 
Better  than  most :  the  case  is  common  too. 
Out  of  the  vast  door  'scutcheoned  overhead, 
Creeps  out  a  serving-man  on  Saturdays 
To  cater  for  the  week,  —  turns  up  anon 
I'  the  market,  chaffering  for  the  lamb's  least  leg, 
Or  the  quarter-fowl,  less  entrails,  claws  and  comb : 
Then  back  again  with  prize,  —  a  liver  begged 
Into  the  bargain,  gizzard  overlooked. 
He 's  mincing  these  to  give  the  beans  a  taste, 
"When,  at  your  knock,  he  leaves  the  simmering  soup, 
Waits  on  the  curious  stranger-visitant. 
Napkin  in  half-wiped  hand,  to  show  the  rooms. 
Point  pictures  out  have  hung  their  hundred  years, 
"  Priceless,"  he  tells  you,  —  puts  in  his  place  at  once 
The  man  of  money :  yes,  you  're  banker-king 
Or  merchant-kaiser,  wallow  in  your  wealth 
While  patron,  the  house-master,  can't  afford 
To  stop  our  ceiling-hole  that  rain  so  rots : 
But  he 's  the  man  of  mark,  and  there 's  his  shield, 
And  yonder  's  the  famed  Rafael,  first  in  kind. 
The  painter  painted  for  his  grandfather, 
And  you  have  paid  to  see  :    "  Good  morning,  Sir ! " 
Such  is  the  law  of  compensation.    Still 
The  poverty  was  getting  nigh  acute  ; 
There  gaped  so  many  noble  mouths  to  feed, 
Beans  must  suffice  unflavored  of  the  fowl. 
The  mother,  —  hers  would  be  a  spun-out  life 
r  the  nature  of  things ;  the  sisters  had  done  well 
And  married  men  of  reasonable  rank  : 
But  that  sort  of  illumination  stops, 
Throws  back  no  heat  upon  the  parent-hearth. 
The  family  instinct  felt  out  for  its  fire 
To  the  Church,  —  the  Church  traditionally  helps 
A  second  son  :  and  such  was  Paolo, 
Established  here  at  Rome  these  thirty  years, 
Who  played  the  regular  game,  —  priest  and  Abate, 
Made  friends,  owned  house  and  land,  became  of  use 


TERTIUM  QUID  115 

To  a  personage  :  his  course  lay  clear  enough. 

The  youngest  caught  the  sympathetic  flame, 

And,  though  unfledged  wings  kept  him  still  i'  the  cage, 

Yet  he  shot  up  to  be  a  Canon,  so 

Clung  to  the  higher  perch  and  crowed  in  hope. 

Even  our  Guido,  eldest  brother,  went 

As  far  i'  the  way  o'  the  Church  as  safety  seemed. 

He  being  Head  o'  the  House,  ordained  to  wive,  — 

So,  could  but  dally  with  an  Order  or  two 

And  testify  good-wiU  i'  the  cause :  he  dipt 

His  top-hair  and  thus  far  affected  Christ. 

But  main  promotion  must  fall  otherwise, 

Though  still  from  the  side  o'  the  Church :  and  here  was  he 

At  Rome,  since  first  youth,  worn  threadbare  of  soul 

By  forty-six  years'  rubbing  on  hard  life, 

Getting  fast  tired  o'  the  game  whose  word  is  —  "  Wait !  " 

When  one  day,  —  he  too  having  his  Cardinal 

To  serve  in  some  ambiguous  sort,  as  serve 

To  draw  the  coach  the  phimes  o'  the  horses'  heads,  — 

The  Cardinal  saw  flt  to  dispense  with  him. 

Ride  with  one  plume  the  less  ;  and  off  it  dropped. 

Guido  thus  left,  —  with  a  youth  spent  in  vain 
And  not  a  penny  in  purse  to  show  for  it,  — 
Advised  with  Paolo,  bent  no  doubt  in  chafe 
The  black  brows  somewhat  formidably,  growled 
"  Where  is  the  good  I  came  to  get  at  Rome  ? 
Where  the  repayment  of  the  servitude 
To  a  purple  popinjay,  whose  feet  I  kiss, 
Knowing  his  father  wiped  the  shoes  of  mine  ?  " 

"  Patience,"  pats  Paolo  the  recalcitrant  — 
"  You  have  not  had,  so  far,  the  proper  luck, 

Nor  do  my  gains  suffice  to  keep  us  both  : 

A  modest  competency  is  mine,  not  more. 

You  are  the  Count  however,  yours  the  style, 

Heirdom  and  state,  —  you  can't  expect  all  good. 

Had  I,  now,  held  your  hand  of  cards  .  .  .  well,  well  — 

What 's  yet  unplayed,  I  '11  look  at,  by  your  leave, 

Over  your  shoulder,  —  I  who  made  my  game, 

Let 's  see,  if  I  can't  help  to  handle  yours. 

Fie  on  you,  aU  the  Honors  in  your  fist, 

Countship,  Househeadship,  —  how  have  you  misdealt ! 

Why,  in  the  first  place,  these  will  marry  a  man ! 

Notum  tonsorihus  !     To  the  Tonsor  then  ! 

Come,  clear  your  looks,  and  choose  your  freshest  suit. 


116  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And,  after  function  's  done  with,  down  we  go 
To  the  woman-dealer  in  perukes,  a  wench 
I  and  some  others  settled  in  the  shop 
At  Place  Colonna :  she  's  an  oracle.     Hmm  ! 

'  Dear,  't  is  my  brother :  brother,  't  is  my  dear. 
Dear,  give  us  counsel !     Whom  do  you  suggest 
As  properest  party  in  the  quarter  round 
For  the  Count  here  ?  —  he  is  minded  to  take  wife, 
And  further  tells  me  he  intends  to  slip 
Twenty  zecchines  under  the  bottom-scalp 
Of  his  old  wig  when  he  sends  it  to  revive 
For  the  wedding  :  and  I  add  a  trifle  too. 
You  know  what  personage  I  'm  potent  with.' " 
And  so  plumped  out  Pompilia's  name  the  first. 
She  told  them  of  the  household  and  its  ways, 
The  easy  husband  and  the  shrewder  wife 
In  Via  Vittoria,  —  how  the  tall  young  girl, 
With  hair  black  as  yon  patch  and  eyes  as  big 
As  yon  pomander  to  make  freckles  fly, 
Would  have  so  much  for  certain,  and  so  much  more 
In  likelihood,  —  why,  it  suited,  slipt  as  smooth 
As  the  Pope's  pantoufle  does  on  the  Pope's  foot. 

"  I  '11  to  the  husband  !  "  Guido  ups  and  cries. 

"  Ay,  so  you  'd  play  your  last  court-card,  no  doubt !  " 
Puts  Paolo  in  with  a  groan  —  "  Only,  you  see, 
'T  is  I,  this  time,  that  supervise  your  lead. 
Priests  play  with  women,  maids,  wives,  mothers— why? 
These  play  with  men  and  take  them  offi  our  hands. 
Did  I  come,  counsel  with  some  cut-beard  gruff 
Or  rather  this  sleek  young-old  barberess  ? 
Go,  brother,  stand  you  rapt  in  the  ante-room 
Of  Her  Efiicacity  my  Cardinal 

For  an  hour,  —  he  likes  to  have  lord-suitors  lounge,  — 
While  I  betake  myself  to  the  gray  mare. 
The  better  horse,  —  how  wise  the  people's  word  !  — 
And  wait  on  Madam  Violante." 

Said  and  done. 
He  was  at  Via  Vittoria  in  three  skips  : 
Proposed  at  once  to  fill  up  the  one  want 
O'  the  burgess-family  which,  wealthy  enough. 
And  comfortable  to  heart's  desire,  yet  crouched 
Outside  a  gate  to  heaven,  —  locked,  bolted,  barred, 
Whereof  Count  Guido  had  a  key  he  kept 
Under  his  pillow,  but  Pompilia's  hand 
Might  slide  behind  his  neck  and  pilfer  thence. 
The  key  was  fairy ;  its  meie  mention  made 


TERTIUM   QUID  117 

Violante  feel  the  thing  shoot  one  sharp  ray 

That  reached  the  womanly  heart :  so  —  "I  assent ! 

Yours  he  Pompilia,  hers  and  ours  that  key 

To  aU  the  glories  of  the  greater  life  ! 

There 's  Pietto  to  convince  :  leave  that  to  me !  " 

Then  was  the  matter  broached  to  Pietro ;  then 
Did  Pietro  make  demand  and  get  response 
That  in  the  Countship  was  a  truth,  but  in 
The  counting  up  of  the  Count's  cash,  a  lie. 
He  thereupon  stroked  grave  his  chin,  looked  great, 
Declined  the  honor.     Then  the  wife  wiped  tear, 
Winked  with  the  other  eye  turned  Paolo-ward, 
Whispered  Pompilia,  stole  to  church  at  eve. 
Found  Guido  there  and  got  the  marriage  done, 
And  finally  begged  pardon  at  the  feet 
Of  her  dear  lord  and  master.     Whereupon 
Quoth  Pietro  —  "  Let  us  make  the  best  of  things !  " 
"  I  knew  your  love  would  license  us,"  quoth  she  : 
Quoth  Paolo  once  more,  "  Mothers,  wives  and  maids. 
These  be  the  tools  wherewith  priests  manage  men." 

Now,  here  take  breath  and  ask,  —  which  bird  o'  the  brace 

Decoyed  the  other  into  clapnet  ?     Who 

Was  fool,  who  knave  ?     Neither  and  both,  perchance. 

There  was  a  bargain  mentally  proposed 

On  each  side,  straight  and  plain  and  fair  enough  ; 

Mind  knew  its  own  mind :  but  when  mind  must  speak, 

The  bargain  have  expression  in  plain  terms, 

There  came  the  blunder  incident  to  words. 

And  in  the  clumsy,  process,  fair  turned  foul. 

The  straight  backbone-thought  of  the  crooked  speech 

Were  just  —  "I  Guido  truck  my  name  and  rank 

For  so  much  money  and  youth  and  female  charms.  — 

We  Pietro  and  Violante  give  our  child 

And  wealth  to  you  for  a  rise  i'  the  world  thereby." 

Such  naked  truth  while  chambered  in  the  brain 

Shocks  nowise  :  walk  it  forth  by  way  of  tongue,  -^ 

Out  on  the  cynical  unseemliness  ! 

Hence  was  the  need,  on  either  side,  of  a  lie 

To  serve  as  decent  wrappage :  so,  Guido  gives 

Money  for  money,  —  and  they,  bride  for  groom, 

Having,  he,  not  a  doit,  they,  not  a  child 

Honestly  theirs,  but  this  poor  waif  and  stray. 

According  to  the  words,  each  cheated  each  ; 

But  in  the  inexpressive  barter  of  thoughts, 


118  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Each  did  give  and  did  take  the  thing  designed, 
The  rank  on  this  side  and  the  cash  on  that  — 
Attained  the  object  of  the  traffic,  so. 
The  way  of  the  world,  the  daily  bargain  struck 
In  the  first  market !     Why  sells  Jack  his  ware  ? 

"  For  the  sake  of  serving  an  old  customer." 
Why  doeSvJill  buy  it  ?     "  Simply  not  to  break 
A  custom,  pass  the  old  stall  the  first  time." 
Why,  you  know  where  the  gist  is  of  the  exchange  : 
Each  sees  a  profit,  throws  the  fine  words  in. 
Don't  be  too  hard  o'  the  pair !     Had  each  pretence 
Been  simultaneously  discovered,  stript 
From  off  the  body  o'  the  transaction,  just 
As  when  a  cook  (wiU  Excellency  forgive  ?) 
Strips  away  those  long  rough  superfluous  legs 
From  either  side  the  crayfish,  leaving  folk 
A  meal  all  meat  henceforth,  no  garnishry, 
(With  your  respect,  Prince  !)  —  balance  had  been  kept, 
No  party  blamed  the  other,  —  so,  starting  fair. 
All  subsequent  fence  of  wrong  returned  by  wrong 
I'  the  matrimonial  thrust  and  parry,  at  least 
Had  followed  on  equal  terms.     But,  as  it  chanced. 
One  party  had  the  advantage,  saw  the  cheat 
Of  the  other  first  and  kept  its  own  concealed  : 
And  the  luck  o'  the  first  discovery  fell,  beside, 
To  the  least  adroit  and  self-possessed  o'  the  pair. 
'T  was  foolish  Pietro  and  his  wife  saw  first 
The  nobleman  was  penniless,  and  screamed 

''  We  are  cheated  !  " 

Such  unprofitable  noise 
Angers  at  all  times  :  but  when  those  who  plague, 
Do  it  from  inside  your  own  house  and  home, 
Gnats  which  yourself  have  closed  the  curtain  round. 
Noise  goes  too  near  the  brain  and  makes  you  mad. 
The  gnats  say,  Guido  used  the  candle-flame 
Unfairly,  —  worsened  that  first  bad  of  his. 
By  practising  aU  kinds  of  cruelty 
To  oust  them  and  suppress  the  wail  and  whine,  — 
That  speedily  he  so  scared  and  bullied  them, 
Fain  were  they,  long  before  five  months  had  passed, 
To  beg  him  grant,  from  what  was  once  their  wealth, 
Just  so  much  as  would  help  them  back  to  Rome, 
Where,  when  they  finished  paying  the  last  doit 
O'  the  dowry,  they  might  beg  from  door  to  door. 
So  say  the  Comparini  —  as  if  it  came 


TERTIUM  QUID  119 

Of  pure  resentment  for  this  worse  than  bad, 
That  then  Violante,  feeling  conscience  prick, 
Confessed  her  substitution  of  the  child 
Whence  all  the  harm  fell,  —  and  that  Pietro  first 
Bethought  hina  of  advantage  to  himself 
I'  the  deed,  as  part  revenge,  part  remedy 
For  all  miscalculation  in  the  pact. 

On  the  other  hand,  "  Not  so  !  "  Guido  retorts  — 
"  I  am  the  wronged,  solely,  from  first  to  last, 
Who  gave  the  dignity  I  engaged  to  give, 
Which  was,  is,  cannot  but  continue  gain. 
My  being  poor  was  a  by-circumstance. 
Miscalculated  piece  of  untowardness, 
Might  end  to-morrow  did  heaven's  windows  ope, 
Or  uncle  die  and  leave  me  his  estate. 
You  should  have  put  up  with  the  minor  flaw, 
Getting  the  main  prize  of  the  jewel.     If  wealth. 
Not  rank,  had  been  prime  object  in  your  thoughts, 
Why  not  have  taken  the  butcher's  son,  the  boy 
O'  liie  baker  or  candlestick-maker  ?     In  all  the  rest, 
It  was  yourselves  broke  compact  and  played  false, 
And  made  a  life  in  common  impossible. 
Show  me  the  stipulation  of  our  bond 
That  you  should  make  your  profit  of  being  inside 
My  house,  to  hustle  and  edge  me  out  o'  the  same, 
First  make  a  laughing-stock  of  mine  and  me, 
Then  round  us  in  the  ears  from  morn  to  night 
(Because  we  show  wry  faces  at  your  mirth) 
That  you  are  robbed,  starved,  beaten  and  what  not ! 
You  fled  a  hell  of  your  own  lighting-up. 
Pay  for  your  own  miscalculation  too  : 
You  thought  nobility,  gained  at  any  price. 
Would  suit  and  satisfy,  —  find  the  mistake. 
And  now  retaliate,  not  on  yourselves,  but  me. 
And  how  ?     By  telling  me,  i'  the  face  of  the  world, 
I  it  is  have  been  cheated  all  this  while. 
Abominably  and  irreparably,  —  my  name 
Given  to  a  cur-cast  mongrel,  a  drab's  brat, 
A  beggar's  by-blow,  —  thus  depriving  me 
Of  what  yourselves  allege  the  whole  and  sole 
Aim  on  my  part  i'  the  marriage,  —  money,  to  wit. 
This  thrust  I  have  to  parry  by  a  guard 
Which  leaves  me  open  to  a  counter-thrust 
On  the  other  side,  —  no  way  but  there  's  a  pass 
Clean  through  me.    If  I  prove,  as  I  hope  to  do, 


120  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

There 's  not  one  truth  in  this  your  odious  tale 

O'  the  buying,  selling,  substituting  —  prove 

Your  daughter  was  and  is  your  daughter,  —  well. 

And  her  dowry  hers  and  therefore  mine,  —  what  then  ? 

Why,  where  's  the  appropriate  punishment  for  this 

Enormous  lie  hatched  for  mere  malice'  sake 

To  ruin  me  ?     Is  that  a  wrong  or  no  ? 

And  if  I  try  revenge  for  remedy, 

Can  I  well  make  it  strong  and  bitter  enough  ?  " 

I  anticipate  however — only  ask, 
Which  of  the  two  here  sinned  most  ?     A  nice  point ! 
Which  brownness  is  least  black,  —  decide  who  can, 
Wager-by-battle-of-cheating  !     What  do  you  say, 
Highness  ?     Suppose,  your  Excellency,  we  leave 
The  question  at  this  stage,  proceed  to  the  next, 
Both  parties  step  out,  fight  their  prize  upon, 
In  the  eye  o'  the  world  ? 

They  brandish  law  'gainst  law; 
The  grinding  of  such  blades,  each  parry  of  each. 
Throws  terrible  sparks  o£E,  over  and  above  the  thrusts, 
And  makes  more  sinister  the  fight,  to  the  eye. 
Than  the  very  wounds  that  follow.     Beside  the  tale 
Which  the  Comparini  have  to  re-assert. 
They  needs  must  write,  print,  publish  all  abroad 
The  straitnesses  of  Guido's  household  life  — 
The  petty  nothings  we  bear  privately 
But  break  down  under  when  fools  flock  to  jeer. 
What  is  it  aU  to  the  facts  o'  the  couple's  case. 
How  helps  it  prove  Pompilia  not  their  child. 
If  Guido's  mother,  brother,  kith  and  kin 
Fare  Ul,  lie  hard,  lack  clothes,  lack  fire,  lack  food  ? 
That 's  one  more  vrrong  than  needs. 

r 

On  the  other  hand, 
Guide,  —  whose  cue  is  to  dispute  the  truth 
O'  the  tale,  reject  the  shame  it  throws  on  him,  — 
He  may  retaliate,  fight  his  foe  in  turn 
And  welcome,  we  allow.     Ay,  but  he  can't ! 
He  's  at  home,  only  acts  by  proxy  here  ; 
Law  may  meet  law,  —  but  all  the  gibes  and  jeers, 
The  superfluity  of  naughtiness. 
Those  libels  on  his  House,  —  how  reach  at  them  ? 
Two  hateful  faces,  grinning  all  aglow, 
Not  only  make  parade  of  spoil  they  filched, 


TERTIUM  QUID  121 

But  foul  him  from  the  height  of  a  tower,  you  see. 

Unluckily  temptation  is  at  hand  — 

To  take  revenge  on  a  trifle  overlooked, 

A  pet  lamb  they  have  left  in  reach  outside, 

"Whose  first  bleat,  when  he  plucks  the  wool  away, 

WiU  strike  the  grinners  grave :  his  wife  remains, 

Who,  four  months  earlier,  some  thirteen  years  oldj 

Never  a  mile  away  from  mother's  house 

And  petted  to  the  height  of  her  desire. 

Was  told  one  morning  that  her  fate  had  come. 

She  must  be  married  —  just  as,  a  mouth  before. 

Her  mother  told  her  she  must  comb  her  hair 

And  twist  her  curls  into  one  knot  behind. 

These  fools  forgot  their  pet  lamb,  fed  with  flowers, 

Then  'ticed  as  usual  by  the  bit  of  cake, 

Out  of  the  bower  into  the  butchery. 

Plague  her,  he  plagues  them  threefold :  but  how  plague  ? 

The  world  may  have  its  word  to  say  to  that : 

You  can't  do  some  things  with  impunity. 

What  remains  .  .  .  well,  it  is  an  ugly  thought  .  •  . 

But  that  he  drive  herself  to  plague  herself  — 

Herself  disgrace  herself  and  so  disgrace 

Who  seek  to  disgrace  Guido  ? 

There 's  the  clue 
To  what  else  seems  gratuitously  vile. 
If,  as  is  said,  from  this  time  forth  the  rack 
Was  tried  upon  Pompiha  :  't  was  to  wrench 
Her  limbs  into  exposure  that  brings  shame. 
The  aim  o'  the  cruelty  being  so  crueller  stiU, 
That  cruelty  almost  grows  compassion's  self 
*  Could  one  attribute  it  to  mere  return 
O'  the  parents'  outrage,  wrong  avenging  wi-ong. 
They  see  in  this  a  deeper  deadlier  aim. 
Not  to  vex  just  a  body  they  held  dear, 
But  blacken  too  a  soul  they  boasted  white, 
And  show  the  world  their  saint  in  a  lover's  arms, 
No  matter  how  driven  thither,  —  so  they  say. 

On  the  other  hand,  so  much  is  easily  said. 

And  Guido  lacks  not  an  apologist. 

The  pair  had  nobody  but  themselves  to  blame. 

Being  selfish  beasts  throughout,  no  less,  no  more  : 

—  Cared  for  themselves,  their  supposed  good,  nought  else, 

And  brought  about  the  marriage  ;  good  proved  bad, 

As  little  they  cared  for  her  its  victim  —  nay, 


122  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Meant  she  should  stay  behind  and  take  the  chance, 

If  haply  they  might  wriggle  themselves  free. 

They  baited  their  own  hook  to  catch  a  fish 

With  this  poor  worm,  failed  o'  the  prize,  and  then 

Sought  how  to  unbait  tackle,  let  worm  float 

Or  sink,  amuse  the  monster  while  they  'scaped. 

Under  the  best  stars  Hymen  brings  above, 

Had  all  been  honesty  on  either  side, 

A  common  sincere  effort  to  good  end, 

Still,  this  would  prove  a  difficult  problem.  Prince  I 

—  Given,  a  fair  wife,  aged  thirteen  years, 

A  husband  poor,  care-bitten,  sorrow-sunk. 

Little,  long-nosed,  bush-bearded,  lantern-jawed. 

Forty-six  years,  old,  —  place  the  two  grown  one, 

She,  cut  off  sheer  from  every  natural  aid. 

In  a  strange  town  with  no  familiar  face  — 

He,  in  his  own  parade-ground  or  retreat 

If  need  were,  free  from  challenge,  much  less  check 

To  an  irritated,  disappointed  will  — 

How  evolve  happiness  from  such  a  match? 

'T  were  hard  to  serve  up  a  congenial  dish 

Out  of  these  ill-agreeing  morsels,  Duke, 

By  the  best  exercise  of  the  cook's  craft. 

Best  interspersion  of  spice,  salt  and  sweet ! 

But  let  two  ghastly  scullions  concoct  mess 

With  brimstone,  pitch,  vitriol  and  devil's-dung  — 

Throw  in  abuse  o'  the  man,  his  hody  and  soul, 

Kith,  kin  and  generation,  shake  all  slab 

At  Rome,  Arezzo,  for  the  world  to  nose. 

Then  end  by  publishing,  for  fiend's  arch-prank, 

That,  over  and  above  sauce  to  the  meat's  self,  , 

Why,  even  the  meat,  bedevilled  thus  in  dish, 

Was  never  a  pheasant  but  a  carrion-crow  — 

Prince,  what  wiU  then  the  natural  loathing  be  ? 

What  wonder  if  this  ?  —  the  compound  plague  o'  the  pair 

Pricked  Guido,  —  not  to  take  the  course  they  hoped, 

That  is,  submit  him  to  their  statement's  truth. 

Accept  its  obvious  promise  of  relief, 

And  thrust  them  out  of  doors  the  girl  again 

Since  the  girl's  dowry  would  not  enter  there, 

—  Quit  of  the  one  if  balked  of  the  other  :  no  ! 

Rather  did  rage  and  hate  so  work  in  him, 

Their  product  proved  the  horrible  conceit 

That  he  should  plot  and  plan  and  bring  to  pass 

His  wife  might,  of  her  own  free  will  and  deed, 

Relieve  him  of  her  presence,  get  her  gone. 


TERTIVM  QUID  123 

And  yet  leave  all  the  dowry  safe  behind, 
Confirmed  his  own  henceforward  past  dispute^ 
While  blotting  out,  as  by  a  belch  of  hell, 
Their  triumph  in  her  misery  and  death. 

You  see,  the  man  was  Aretine,  had  touch 
O'  the  subtle  air  that  breeds  the  subtle  wit ; 
Was  noble  too,  of  old  blood  thrice-refined 
That  shrinks  from  clownish  coarseness  in  disgust : 
AUow  that  such  an  one  may  take  revenge. 
You  don't  expect  he  '11  catch  up  stone  and  fling. 
Or  try  cross-buttock,  or  whirl  quarter-stafB  ? 
Instead  of  the  honest  drubbing  clowns  bestow. 
When  out  of  temper  at  the  dinner  spoilt. 
On  meddling  mother-in-law  and  tiresome  wife,  -^ 
Substitute  for  the  clown  a  nobleman, 
And  you  have  Guido,  practising,  't  is  said, 
Immitigably  from  the  very  first. 
The  finer  vengeance  :  this,  they  say,  the  fact 
O'  the  famous  letter  shows  —  the  writing  traced 
At  Guido's  instance  by  the  timid  wife 
Over  the  pencilled  words  himself  writ  first  — 
Wherein  she,  who  could  neither  write  nor  read, 
Was  made  unblushingly  declare  a  tale 
To  the  brother,  the  Abate  then  in  Rome, 
How  her  putative  parents  had  impressed, 
On  their  departure,  their  enjoinment ;  bade 
''  We  being  safely  arrived  here,  foUow,  you  ! 
Poison  your  husband,  rob,  set  fire  to  all, 
And  then  by  means  o'  the  gallant  you  procure 
With  ease,  by  helpful  eye  and  ready  tongue, 
Some  brave  youth  ready  to  dare,  do  and  die. 
You  shall  run  off  and  merrily  reach  Rome 
Where  we  may  live  like  flies  in  honey-pot :  "  — 
Such  being  exact  the  programme  of  the  course 
Imputed  her  as  carried  to  effect. 

They  also  say,  —  to  keep  her  straight  therein, 
All  sort  of  torture  was  piled,  pain  on  pain, 
On  either  side  Pompilia's  path  of  life. 
Built  round  about  and  over  against  by  fear, 
Circumvallated  month  by  month,  and  week 
By  week,  and  day  by  day,  and  hour  by  hour. 
Close,  closer  and  yet  closer  still  with  pain. 
No  outlet  from  the  encroaching  pain  save  just 
Where  stood  one  savior  like  a  piece  of  heaven, 


124  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Hell's  arms  would  strain  round  but  for  this  blue  gap. 
She,  they  say  further,  first  tried  every  chink, 
Every  imaginable  break  i'  the  fire. 
As  way  of  escape  :  ran  to  the  Commissary, 
Who  bade  her  not  malign  his  friend  her  spouse  ; 
Flung  herself  thrice  at  the  Archbishop's  feet, 
Where  three  times  the  Archbishop-  let  her  lie. 
Spend  her  whole  sorrow  and  sob  full  heart  forth, 
•And  then  took  up  the  slight  load  from  the  ground 
And  bore  it  back  for  husband  to  chastise,  — 
Mildly  of  course,  —  but  natural  right  is  right. 
So  went  she  shpping  ever  yet  catching  at  help, 
Missing  the  high  tiU  come  to  lowest  and  last. 
To  wit,  a  certain  friar  of  mean  degree, 
Who  heard  her  story  in  confession,  wept. 
Crossed  himself,  showed  the  man  within  the  monk. 

"  Then,  will  you  save  me,  you  the  one  i'  the  world  ? 
I  cannot  even  write  my  woes,  nor  put 
My  prayer  for  help  in  words  a  friend  may  read,  — 
I  no  more  own  a  coin  thau  have  an  hour 
Free  of  observance,  —  I  was  watched  to  church, 
Am  watched  now,  shall  be  watched  back  presently,  — 
How  buy  the  skiU  of  scribe  i'  the  market-place  ? 
Pray  you,  write  down  and  send  whatever  I  say 
O'  the  need  I  have  my  parents  take  me  hence  !  " 
The  good  man  rubbed  his  eyes  and  could  not  choose  — 
Let  her  dictate  her  letter  in  such  a  sense 
That  parents,  to  save  breaking  down  a  wall. 
Might  lift  her  over  :  she  went  back,  heaven  in  heart. 
Then  the  good  man  took  counsel  of  his  couch, 
Woke  and  thought  twice,  the  second  thought  the  best : 

"  Here  am  I,  foolish  body  that  I  be. 
Caught  all  but  pushing,  teaching,  who  but  I, 
My  betters  their  plain  duty,  —  what,  I  dare 
Help  a  case  the  Archbishop  would  not  help. 
Mend  matters,  peradventure,  God  loves  mar  ? 
What  hath  the  married  life  but  strifes  and  plagues 
For  proper  dispensation  ?     So  a  fool 
Once  touched  the  ark,  —  poor  Uzzah  that  I  am ! 
Oh  married  ones,  much  rather  should  I  bid, 
In  patience  all  of  ye  possess  your  souls  ! 
This  life  is  brief  and  troubles  die  with  it : 
Where  were  the  prick  to  soar  up  homeward  else  ?  " 
So  saying,  he  burnt  the  letter  he  had  writ. 
Said  Ave  for  her  intention,  in  its  place. 
Took  snuflE  and  comfort,  and  had  done  with  all. 


TERTIUM  QUID  125 

Then  the  grim  arms  stretched  yet  a  little  more 

And  each  touched  each,  all  but  one  streak  i'  the  midst. 

Whereat  stood  Caponsacchi,  who  cried,  "  This  way, 

Out  by  me  !     Hesitate  one  moment  more 

And  the  fire  shuts  out  me  and  shuts  in  you  ! 

Here  my  hand  holds  you  life  out !  "     Whereupon 

She  clasped  the  hand,  which  closed  on  hers  and  drew 

Pompilia  out  o'  the  circle  now  complete. 

Whose  fault  or  shame  but  Guido's  ?  —  ask  her  friends. 

But  then  this  is  the  wife's  — Pompilia's  tale  — 

Eve's  .  .  .  no,  not  Eve's,  since  Eve,  to  speak  the  truth, 

Was  hardly  fallen  (our  candor  might  pronounce) 

When  simply  saying  in  her  own  defence 
"  The  serpent  tempted  me  and  I  did  eat." 

So  much  of  paradisal  nature,  Eve's ! 

Her  daughters  ever  since  prefer  to  urge 
"  Adam  so  starved  me  I  was  fain  accept 

The  apple  any  serpent  pushed  m.y  way." 

What  an  elaborate  theory  have  we  here, 

Ingeniously  nursed  up,  pretentiously 

Brought  forth,  pushed  forward  amid  trumpet-blast, 

To  account  for  the  thawing  of  an  icicle, 

Show  us  there  needed  -ffitna  vomit  flame 

Ere  run  the  crystal  into  dewdrops  !     Else, 

How,  unless  hell  broke  loose  to  cause  the  step, 

How  could  a  married  lady  go  astray  ? 

Bless  the  fools  !     And  't  is  just  this  way  they  are  blessed, 

And  the  world  wags  still,  —  because  fools  are  sure 

—  Oh,  not  of  my  wife  nor  your  daughter  !     No  ! 

But  of  their  own :  the  case  is  altered  quite. 

Look  now,  — last  week,  the  lady  we  afl.  love,  — 

Daughter  o'  the  couple  we  all  venerate, 

Wife  of  the  husband  we  all  cap  before, 

Mother  o'  the  babes  we  all  breathe  blessings  on,  — 

Was  caught  in  converse  with  a  negro  page. 

Hell  thawed  that  icicle,  else  "  Why  was  it  — 

Why  ?  "  asked  and  echoed  the  fools.    "  Because,  you  fools,  —  " 

So  did  the  dame's  self  answer,  she  who  could. 

With  that  fine  candor  only  forthcoming 

When  't  is  no  odds  whether  withheld  or  na  — 
"  Because  my  husband  was  the  saint  you  say, 

And,  — with  that  childish  goodness,  absurd  faith, 

Stupid  self-satisfaction,  you  so  praise,  — 

Saint  to  you,  insupportable  to  me. 

Had  he,  —  instead  of  calling  me  fine  names, 


126  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Lucretia  and  Susanna  and  so  forth, 

And  curtaining  Correggio  carefully 

Lest  I  be  taught  that  Leda  had  two  legs,  — 

—  But  once  never  so  little  tweaked  my  nose 

For  peeping  through  my  fan  at  Carnival, 

Confessing  thereby  '  I  have  no  easy  task  — 

I  need  use  all  my  powers  to  hold  you  mine, 

And  then,  —  why  't  is  so  doubtful  if  they  serve. 

That—  take  this,  as  an  earnest  of  despair ! ' 

Why,  we  were  quits  :  I  had  wiped  the  harm  away, 

Thought '  The  man  fears  me  ! '  and  foregone  revenge." 

We  must  not  want  all  this  elaborate  work 

To  solve  the  problem  why  young  Fancy-and-flesh 

Slips  from  the  dull  side  of  a  spouse  in  years. 

Betakes  it  to  the  breast  of  Brisk-and-bold 

Whose  love-scrapes  furnish  talk  for  aU  the  town ! 

Accordingly,  one  word  on  the  other  side 

Tips  over  lie  piled-up  fabric  of  a  tale. 

Guido  says  —  that  is,  always,  his  friends  say  — 

It  is  unlikely  from  the  wickedness, 

That  any  man  treat  any  woman  so. 

The  letter  in  question  was  her  very  own, 

Unprompted  and  unaided  :  she  could  write  — 

As  able  to  write  as  ready  to  sin,  or  free, 

When  there  was  danger,  to  deny  both  facts. 

He  bids  you  mark,  herself  from  first  to  last 

Attributes  all  the  so^styled  torture  just 

To  jealousy,  —  jealousy  of  whom  but  just 

This  very  Caponsacchi  !     How  suits  here 

This  with  the  other  alleged  motive.  Prince  ? 

Would  Guido  make  a  terror  of  the  man 

He  meant  should  tempt  the  woman,  as  they  charge  ? 

Do  you  fright  your  hare  that  you  may  catch  your  hare  ? 

Consider  too,  the  charge  was  made  and  met 

At  the  proper  time  and  place  where  proofs  were  plain  — 

Heard  patiently  and  disposed  of  thoroughly 

By  the  highest  powers,  possessors  of  most  light. 

The  Governor  for  the  law,  and  the  Archbishop 

For  the  gospel :  which  acknowledged  primacies, 

'T  is  impudently  pleaded,  he  could  warp 

Into  a  tacit  partnership  with  crime  — 

He  being  the  while,  believe  their  own  account, 

Impotent,  penniless  and  miserable  ! 

He  further  asks  —  Duke,  note  the  knotty  point !  — 

How  he  —  concede  him  skill  to  play  such  part 


TERTIUM  QUID  127 

And  drive  Ms  wife  into  a  gallant's  arms  — 

Could  bring  the  gallant  to  play  his  part  too 

And  stand  with  arms  so  opportunely  wide  ? 

How  bring  this  Caponsacchi,  —  with  whom,  friends 

And  foes  alike  agree,  throughout  his  life 

He  never  interchanged  a  civU  word 

Nor  lifted  courteous  cap  to — him,  how  bend 

To  such  observancy  of  beck  and  call, 

—  To  undertake  this  strange  and  perilous  feat 

For  the  good  of  Guido,  using,  as  the  lure, 

PompUia  whom,  himself  and  she  avouch. 

He  had  nor  spoken  with  nor  seen,  indeed. 

Beyond  sight  in  a  public  theatre, 

When  she  wrote  letters  (she  that  could  not  write !) 

The  importunate  shamelessly-protested  love 

Which  brought  him,  though  reluctant,  to  her  feet, 

And  forced  on  him  the  plunge  which,  howsoe'er 

She  might  swim  up  i'  the  whirl,  must  bury  him 

Under  abysmal  black :  a  priest  contrive 

No  better,  no  amour  to  be  hushed  up, 

But  open  flight  and  noon-day  infamy  ? 

Try  and  concoct  defence  for  such  revolt  1 

Take  the  wife's  tale  as  true,  say  she  was  wronged,— 

Pray,  in  what  rubric  of  the  breviary 

Do  you  find  it  registered  —  the  part  of  a  priest 

Is  —  that  to  right  wrongs  from  the  church  he  skip, 

Go  journeying  with  a  woman  that 's  a  wife. 

And  be  pursued,  o'ertaken  and  captured  .  .  .  how  ? 

In  a  lay-dress,  playing  the  kind  sentinel 

Where  the  wife  sleeps  (says  he  who  best  should  kno?/) 

And  sleeping,  sleepless,  both  have  spent  the  night ! 

Could  no  one  else  be  found  to  serve  at  need  — 

No  woman  —  or  if  man,  no  safer  sort 

Than  this  riot  well-reputed  turbulence  ? 

Then,  look  into  his  own  account  o'  the  case  1 
He,  being  the  stranger  and  astonished  one, 
Yet  received  protestations  of  her  love 
From  lady  neither  known  nor  cared  about : 
Love,  so  protested,  bred  in  him  disgust 
After  the  wonder,  —  or  incredulity, 
Such  impudence  seeming  impossible. 
But,  soon  assured  such  impudence  might  be. 
When  he  had  seen  with  his  own  eyes  at  last 
Letters  thrown  down  to  him  i'  the  very  street 
From  behind  lattice  where  the  lady  lurked. 


128  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

And  read  their  passionate  summons  to  her  side  — 
Why  then,  a  thousand  thoughts  swarmed  up  and  in,  - 
How  he  had  seen  her  once,  a  moment's  space, 
Observed  she  was  both  young  and  beautiful. 
Heard  everywhere  report  she  suflEered  much 
From  a  jealous  husband  thrice  her  age,  —  in  short. 
There  flashed  the  propriety,  expediency 
Of  treating,  trying  might  they  come  to  terms, 

—  At  all  events,  granting  the  interview 
Prayed  for,  one  so  adapted  to  assist 
Decision  as  to  whether  he  advance, 
Stand  or  retire,  in  his  benevolent  mood  ! 
Therefore  the  interview  befeU  at  length ; 
And  at  this  one  and  only  interview. 

He  saw  the  sole  and  single  course  to  take  — 

Bade  her  dispose  of  him,  head,  heart  and  hand, 

Did  her  behest  and  braved  the  consequence, 

Not  for  the  natural  end,  the  love  of  man 

For  woman  whether  love  be  virtue  or  vice, 

But,  please  you,  altogether  for  pity's  sake  — 

Pity  of  innocence  and  helplessness  ! 

And  how  did  he  assure  himself  of  both  ? 

Had  he  been  the  house-inmate,  visitor. 

Eye-witness  of  the  described  martyrdom. 

So,  competent  to  pronounce  its  remedy 

Ere  rush  on  such  extreme  and  desperate  course  — 

Involving  such  enormity  of  harm, 

Moreover,  to  the  husband  judged  thus,  doomed 

And  damned  without  a  word  in  his  defence  ? 

Not  he  !  the  truth  was  felt  by  instinct  here, 

—  Process  which  saves  a  world  of  trouble  and  time- 
There  's  the  priest's  story  :  what  do  you  say  to  it. 
Trying  its  truth  by  your  own  instinct  too. 

Since  that 's  to  be  the  expeditious  mode  ? 

"  And  now,  do  hear  my  version,"  Guido  cries  : 

"  I  accept  argument  and  inference  both. 
It  would  indeed  have  been  miraculous 
Had  such  a  confidency  sprung  to  birth 
With  no  more  fanning  from  acquaintanceship 
Than  here  avowed  by  my  wife  and  this  priest. 
Only,  it  did  not :  you  must  substitute 
The  old  stale  unromantic  way  of  fault, 
The  commonplace  adventure,  mere  intrigue 
In  prose  form  with  the  unpoetic  tricks, 
Cheatings  and  lies :  they  used  the  hackney  chair 
Satan  jaunts  forth  with,  shabby  and  serviceable. 


TERTIUM  QUID  129 

No  gilded  jimcrack-novelty  from  below, 
To  bowl  you  along  thither,  swift  and  sure. 
That  same  officious  go-between,  the  wench 
"Who  gave  and  took  the  letters  of  the  two, 
■  Now  offers  self  and  service  back  to  me  : 
Bears  testimony  to  visits  night  by  night 
When  all  was  safe,  the  husband  far  and  away,  — 
To  many  a  timely  slipping  out  at  large 
By  light  o'  the  morning-star,  ere  he  should  wake. 
Aid  when  the  fugitives  were  found  at"  last. 
Why,  with  them  were  found  also,  to  belie 
What  protest  they  might  make  of  innocence, 
All  documents  yet  wanting,  if  need  were, 
To  establish  guUt  in  them,  disgrace  in  me  — 
The  chronicle  o'  the  converse  from  its  rise 
To  culmination  in  this  outrage  :  read  ! 
Letters  from  wife  to  priest,  from  priest  to  wife,  — 
Here  they  are,  read  and  say  where  they  chime  in 
With  the  other  tale,  superlative  purity 
O'  the  pair  of  saints  !     I  stand  or  fall  by  these." 

But  then  on  the  other  side  again,  —  how  say 
The  pair  of  saints  ?     That  not  one  word  is  theirs  — 
No  syllable  o'  the  batch  or  writ  or  sent 
Or  yet  received  by  either  of  the  two. 

"  Found,"  says  the  priest,  "  because  he  needed  them, 
Failing  all  other  proofs,  to  prove  our  fault : 
So,  here  they  are,  just  as  is  natural. 
Oh  yes  —  we  had  our  missives,  each  of  us  ! 
Not  these,  but  to  the  full  as  vile,  no  doubt : 
Hers  as  from  me,  —  she  could  not  read,  so  burnt,  — 
Mine  as  from  her,  —  I  burnt  because  I  read. 
Who  forged  and  found  them  ?     Cui  profuerint !  " 
(I  take  the  phrase  out  of  your  Highness'  mouth) 

"  He  who  would  gain  by  her  fault  and  my  fall. 
The  trickster,  schemer  and  pretender  —  he 
Whose  whole  career  was  lie  entailing  lie 
Sought  to  be  sealed  truth  by  the  worst  lie  last !  " 

Guido  rejoins  —  "  Did  the  other  end  o'  the  tale 
Match  tins  beginning !     'T  is  alleged  I  prove 
A  murderer  at  the  end,  a  man  of  force 
Prompt,  indiscriminate,  effectual :  good  ! 
Then  what  need  all  this  trifling  woman's-work, 
Letters  and  embassies  and  weak  intrigue. 
When  wm  and  power  were  mine  to  end  at  once 


130  THE  RING  AND,  THE  BOOK 

Safely  and  surely  ?     Murder  had  come  first 

Not  last  with  such  a  man,  assure  yourselves ! 

The  silent  acquetta,  stiUing  at  command  — 

A  drop  a  day  i'  the  wine  or  soup,  the  dose,  — 

The  shattering  beam  that  hreaks  above  the  bed 

And  beats  out  brains,  with  nobody  to  blame 

Except  the  wormy  age  which  eats  even  oak,  — 

Nay,  the  stanch  steel  or  trusty  cord,  —  who  cares 

I'  the  blind  old  palace,  a  pitfall  at  each  step, 

With  none  to  see,  much  more  to  interpose 

O'  the  two,  three,  creeping  house-dog-servant-things 

Born  mine  and  bred  mine  ?      Had  I  willed  gross  death, 

I  had  found  nearer  paths  to  thrust  him  prey 

Than  this  that  goes  meandering  here  and  there 

Through  half  the  world  and  calls  down  in  its  course 

Notice  and  noise,  —  hate,  vengeance,  should  it  fail, 

Derision  and  contempt  though  it  succeed  ! 

Moreover,  what  o'  the  future  son  and  heir  ? 

The  unborn  babe  about  to  be  called  mine,  — 

What  end  in  heaping  all  this  shame  on  him, 

Were  I  indifferent  to  my  own  black  share  ? 

Would  I  have  tried  these  crookednesses,  say. 

Willing  and  able  to  effect  the  straight  ?  " 

"  Ay,  would  you  !  "  —  one  may  hear  the  priest  retort, 
"  Being  as  you  are,  i'  the  stock,  a  man  of  guile. 
And  ruffianism  but  an  added  graft. 
You,  a  born  coward,  try  a  coward's  arms. 
Trick  and  chicane,  —  and  only  when  these  fail 
Does  violence  foUow,  and  like  fox  you  bite 
Caught  out  in  stealing.     Also,  the  disgrace 
You  hardly  shrunk  at,  wholly  shrivelled  her  : 
You  plunged  her  thin  white  delicate  hand  i'  the  flame 
Along  with  your  coarse  horny  brutish  fist. 
Held  them  a  second  there,  then  drew  out  both 
—  Yours  roughed  a  little,  hers  ruined  through  and  through, 
four  hurt  would  heal  forthwith  at  ointment's  touch  — 
Namely,  succession  to  the  inheritance 
Which  bolder  crime  had  lost  you :  let  things  change, 
The  birth  o'  the  boy  warrant  the  bolder  crime. 
Why,  murder  was  determined,  dared  and  done. 
For  me,"  the  priest  proceeds  with  his  reply, 
"  The  look  o'  the  thing,  the  chances  of  mistake. 
All  were  against  me,  —  that,  I  knew  the  first : 
But,  knowing  also  what  my  duty  was, 
I  did  it :  I  must  look  to  men  more  skilled 
In  reading  hearts  than  ever  was  the  world." 


TERTIUM  QUID  131 

Highness,  decide !     Pronounce,  Her  Excellency  ! 
Or  .  .  .  even  leave  this  argument  in  doubt, 
Account  it  a  fit  matter,  taken  up 
"With  all  its  faces,  manifold  enough, 
To  ponder  on  —  what  fronts  us,  the  next  stage, 
Next  legal  process  ?     Guido,  in  pursuit, 
Coming  up  with  the  fugitives  at  the  inn. 
Caused  both  to  be  arrested  then  and  there 
And  sent  to  Rome  for  judgment  on  the  case  — 
Thither,  with  all  his  armory  of  proofs. 
Betook  himself  :  't  is  there  we  'U  meet  him  now, 
Waiting  the  further  issue. 

Here  you  smile  : 
"  And  never  let  him  henceforth  dare  to  plead  — 
Of  all  pleas  and  excuses  in  the  world 
For  any  deed  hereafter  to  be  done  — 
His  irrepressible  wrath  at  honor's  wound  ! 
Passion  and  madness  irrepressible  ? 
Why,  Count  and  cavalier,  the  husband  comes 
And  catches  foe  i'  the  very  act  of  shame ! 
There 's  man  to  man,  —  nature  must  have  her  way,  — 
We  look  he  should  have  cleared  things  on  the  spot. 
Yes,  then,  indeed  —  even  though  it  prove  he  erred  — • 
Though  the  ambiguous  first  appearance,  mount 
Of  solid  injury,  melt  soon  to  mist. 
Still,  —  had  he  slain  the  lover  and  the  wife  — 
Or,  since  she  was  a  woman  and  his  wife. 
Slain  him.  but  stript  her  naked  to  the  skin, 
Or  at  best  left  no  more  of  an  attire 
Than  patch  sufficient  to  pin  paper  to. 
Some  one  love-letter,  infamy  and  all. 
As  passport  to  the  Paphos  fit  for  such, 
Safe-conduct  to  her  natural  home  the  stews,  — 
Good  !     One  had  recognized  the  power  o'  the  pulse. 
But  when  he  stands,  the  stock-fish,  —  sticks  to  law  — 
Offers  the  hole  in  his  heart,  all  fresh  and  warm, 
For  scrivener's  pen  to  poke  and  play  about  — 
Can  stand,  can  stare,  can  teU  his  beads  perhaps, 
Oh,  let  us  hear  no  syllable  o'  the  rage  ! 
Such  rage  were  a  convenient  afterthought 
For  one  who  would  have  shown  his  teeth  belike, 
Exliibited  unbridled  rage  enough, 
Had  but  the  priest  been  found,  as  was  to  hope. 
In  serge,  not  silk,  with  crucifix,  not  sword  : 
Whereas  the  gray  innocuous  grub,  of  yore. 
Had  hatched  a  hornet,  tickle  to  the  touch, 


132  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  priest  was  metamorphosed  into  knight. 

And  even  the  timid  wife,  whose  cue  was  —  shriek, 

Bury  her  brow  beneath  his  trampling  foot,  — 

She  too  sprang  at  him  like  a  pythoness : 

So,  gulp  down  rage,  passion  must  be  postponed, 

Calm  be  the  word  !     Well,  our  word  is  —  we  brand 

This  part  o'  the  business,  howsoever  the  rest 

Befall." 

"  Nay,"  interpose  as  prompt  his  friends  — 
"  This  is  the  world's  way !     So  you  adjudge  reward 
To  the  forbearance  and  legality 
Yourselves  begin  by  inculcating  —  ay, 
Exacting  from  us  all  with  knife  at  throat ! 
This  one  wrong  more  you  add  to  wrong's  amount,  — 
You  publish  all,  with  the  kind  comment  here, 
'  Its  victim  was  too  cowardly  for  revenge.'  " 
Make  it  your  own  case,  —  you  who  stand  apart ! 
The  husband  wakes  one  morn  from  heavy  sleep. 
With  a  taste  of  poppy  in  his  mouth,  —  rubs  eyes, 
Finds  his  wife  flown,  his  strong-box  ransacked  too. 
Follows  as  he  best  can,  overtakes  i'  the  end. 
You  bid  him  use  his  privilege  :  well,  it  seems 
He  's  scarce  cool-blooded  enough  for  the  right  move  — 
Does  not  shoot  when  the  game  were  sure,  but  stands 
Bewildered  at  the  critical  minute,  —  since 
He  has  the  first  flash  of  the  fact  alone 
To  judge  from,  act  with,  not  the  steady  lights 
Of  after-knowledge,  —  yours  who  stand  at  ease 
To  try  conclusions  :  he 's  in  smother  and  smoke, 
You  outside,  vrith  explosion  at  an  end  : 
The  sulphur  may  be  lightning  or  a  squib  — 
He  '11  know  in  a  minute,  but  till  then,  he  doubts. 
Back  from  what  you  know  to  what  he  knew  not ! 
Hear  the  priest's  lofty  "  I  am  innocent," 
The  wife's  as  resolute  "  You  are  guilty !  "     Come  ! 
Are  you  not  staggered  ?  —  pause,  and  you  lose  the  move  ! 
Nought  left  you  but  a  low  appeal  to  law, 
"  Coward  "  tied  to  your  tail  for  compliment ! 
Another  consideration  :  have  it  your  way ! 
Admit  the  worst :  his  courage  failed  the  Count, 
He  's  cowardly  like  the  best  o'  the  burgesses 
He  's  grown  incorporate  with,  —  a  very  cur, 
Kick  him  from  out  your  circle  by  all  means ! 
Why,  trundled  down  this  reputable  stair. 
Still,  the  church-door  lies  wide  to  take  him  in, 
And  the  court-porch  also  :  in  he  sneaks  to  each,  — 


TERTIUM  QUID  133 

"  Yes,  I  have  lost  my  honor  and  my  wife, 

And,  being  moreover  an  ignoble  hound, 

I  dare  not  jeopardize  my  life  for  them  !  " 

Religion  and  Law  lean  forward  from  their  chairs, 
"  Well  done,  thou  good  and  faithful  servant !  "     Ay, 

Not  only  applaud  him  that  he  scorned  the  world, 

But  punish  should  he  dare  do  otherwise. 

If  the  case  be  clear  or  turbid,  —  you  must  say ! 

Thus,  anyhow,  it  mounted  to  the  stage 
In  the  law-courts,  —  let 's  see  clearly  from  this  point !  -^ 
Where  the  priest  teUs  his  story  true  or  false. 
And  the  wife  her  story,  and  the  husband  his, 
AU  with  result  as  happy  as  before. 
The  courts  would  nor  condemn  nor  yet  acquit 
This,  that  or  the  other,  in  so  distinct  a  sense 
As  end  the  strife  to  cither's  absolute  loss  : 
Pronounced,  in  place  of  something  definite, 
"  Each  of  the  parties,  whether  goat  or  sheep 
I'  the  main,  has  wool  to  show  and  hair  to  hide. 
Each  has  brought  somehow  trouble,  is  somehow  cause 
Of  pains  enough,  —  even  though  no  worse  were  proved. 
Here  is  a  husband,  cannot  rule  his  wife 
Without  provoking  her  to  scream  and  scratch 
And  scour  the  fields,  —  causelessly,  it  may  be  : 
Here  is  that  wife,  —  who  makes  her  sex  our  plague. 
Wedlock,  our  bugbear,  —  perhaps  with  cause  enough  : 
And  here  is  the  truant  priest  o'  the  trio,  worst 
Or  best  —  each  quality  being  conceivable. 
Let  us  impose  a  little  mulct  on  each. 
We  punish  youth  in  state  of  pupilage 
Who  talk  at  hours  when  youth  is  bound  to  sleep. 
Whether  the  prattle  turn  upon  Saint  Rose 
Or  Donna  Olimpia  of  the  Vatican  : 
'T  is  talk,  talked  wisely  or  unwisely  talked, 
r  the  dormitory  where  to  talk  at  all. 
Transgresses,  and  is  mulct :  as  here  we  mean. 
For  the  wife,  —  let  her  betake  herself,  for  rest, 
After  her  run,  to  a  House  of  Convertites  — 
Keep  there,  as  good  as  real  imprisonment : 
Being  sick  and  tired,  she  wiU  recover  so. 
For  the  priest,  spritely  strayer  out  of  bounds, 
Who  made  Arezzo  hot  to  hold  him,  —  Rome 
Profits  by  his  withdrawal  from  the  scene. 
Let  him  be  relegate  to  Civita, 
Circumscribed  by  its  bounds  till  matters  mend : 


134  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

There  he  at  least  lies  out  o'  the  way  of  harm 

From  foes  —  perhaps  from  the  too  friendly  fair. 

And  finally  for  the  husband,  whose  rash  ride 

Has  but  itself  to  blame  for  this  ado,  — 

If  he  be  vexed  that,  in  our  judgments  dealt, 

He  fails  obtain  what  he  accounts  his  right, 

Let  him  go  comforted  with  the  thought,  no  less. 

That,  turn  each  sentence  howsoever  he  may, 

There  's  satisfaction  to  extract  therefrom. 

For,  does  he  wish  his  wife  proved  innocent  ? 

Well,  she 's  not  guilty,  he  may  safely  urge, 

Has  missed  the  stripes  dishonest  wives  endure  — 

This  being  a  fatherly  pat  o'  the  cheek,  no  more. 

Does  he  wish  her  giulty  ?     Were  she  otherwise 

Would  she  be  locked  up,  set  to  say  her  prayers, 

Prevented  intercourse  with  the  outside  world. 

And  that  suspected  priest  in  banishment. 

Whose  portion  is  a  further  help  i'  the  case  ? 

Oh,  ay,  you  all  of  you  want  the  other  thing. 

The  extreme  of  law,  some  verdict  neat,  complete,  — 

Either,  the  whole  o'  the  dowry  in  your  poke 

With  full  release  from  the  false  wife,  to  boot. 

And  heading,  hanging  for  the  priest,  beside  — 

Or,  contrary,  claim  freedom  for  the  wife, 

Repayment  of  each  penny  paid  her  spouse. 

Amends  for  the  past,  release  for  the  future !     Such 

Is  wisdom  to  the  children  of  this  world ; 

But  we  've  no  mind,  we  children  of  the  light. 

To  miss  the  advantage  of  the  golden  mean, 

And  push  things  to  the  steel  point."     Thus  the  courts. 

Is  it  settled  so  far  ?     Settled  or  disturbed. 

Console  yourselves :  't  is  like  ...  an  instance,  now  ! 

You  've  seen  the  puppets,  of  Place  Navona,  play,  — 

Punch  and  his  mate,  —  how  threats  pass,  blows  are  dealt, 

And  a  crisis  comes :  the  crowd  Oi-  clap  or  hiss 

Accordingly  as  disposed  for  man  or  wife  — 

When  down  the  actors  duck  awhile  perdue, 

Donning  what  novel  rag-and-feather  trim 

Best  suits  the  next  adventure,  new  effect : 

And,  —  by  the  time  the  mob  is  on  the  move. 

With  something  like  a  judgment  pro  and  con,  — 

There 's  a  whistle,  up  again  the  actors  pop 

In  t'  other  tatter  with  fresh-tinselled  staves. 

To  re-engage  in  one  last  worst  fight  more 

Shall  show,  what  you  thought  tragedy  was  farce. 


TERTIUM  QUID  135 

Note,  that  the  climax  and  the  crown  of  things 
Invariably  is,  the  devil  appears  himself. 
Armed  and  accoutred,  horns  and  hoofs  and  tail ! 
Just  so,  nor  otherwise  it  proved  —  you  'U  see : 
Move  to  the  murder,  never  mind  the  rest ! 

Guido,  at  such  a  general  duck-down, 

I'  the  breathing-space,  —  of  wife  to  convent  here, 

Priest  to  his  relegation,  and  himself 

To  Arezzo, — had  resigned  his  part  perforce 

To  brother  Abate,  who  bustled,  did  his  best, 

Ketrieved  things  somewhat,  managed  the  three  suits  — 

Since,  it  should  seem,  there  were  three  suits-at-law 

Behoved  him  look  to,  still,  lest  bad  grow  worse  : 

First  civil  suit,  —  the  one  the  parents  brought, 

Impugning  the  legitimacy  of  his  wife. 

Affirming  thence  the  nuUity  of  her  rights  : 

This  was  before  the  Rota,  —  Molines, 

That 's  judge  there,  made  that  notable  decree 

Which  partly  leaned  to  Guido,  as  I  said,  — 

Sut  Fietro  had  appealed  against  the  same 

To  the  very  court  will  judge  what  we  judge  now  — _ 

Toramati  and  his  fellows,  —  Suit  the  first. 

Next  civU  suit,  —  demand  on  the  wife's  part 

Of  separation  from  the  husband's  bed 

On  plea  of  cruelty  and  risk  to  life  — 

Claims  restitution  of  the  dowry  paid. 

Immunity  from  paying  any  more  : 

This  second,  the  Vicegerent  has  to  judge. 

Third  and  last  suit,  —  this  time,  a  criminal  one,  — 

Answer  to,  and  protection  from,  both  these,  — 

Guido's  complaint  of  guilt  against  his  wife 

In  the  Tribunal  of  the  Governor, 

Venturini,  also  judge  of  the  present  cause. 

Three  suits  of  all  importance  plaguing  him, 

Beside  a  little  private  enterprise 

Of  Guido's,  —  essay  at  a  shorter  cut. 

For  Paolo,  knowing  the  right  way  at  Rome, 

Had,  even  while  superintending  these  three  suits 

I'  the  regular  way,  each  at  its  proper  court. 

Ingeniously  made  interest  with  the  Pope 

To  set  such  tedious  regular  forms  aside. 

And,  acting  the  supreme  and  ultimate  judge. 

Declare  for  the  husband  and  against  the  wife. 

Well,  at  such  crisis  and  extreme  of  straits,  — 

The  man  at  bay,  buffeted  in  this  wise,  — 


136  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Happened  the  strangest  accident  of  all. 

"  Then,"  sigh  friends,  "  the  last  feather  broke  his  back. 
Made  him  forget  all  possible  remedies 
Save  one  —  he  rushed  to,  as  the  sole  relief 
From  horror  and  the  abominable  thing." 

"  Or  rather,"  laugh  foes,  "  then  did  there  befall 
The  luckiest  of  conceivable  events. 
Most  pregnant  with  impunity  for  him, 
Which  henceforth  turned  the  flank  of  all  attack. 
And  bade  him  do  his  wickedest  and  worst." 

—  The  wife's  withdrawal  from  the  Convertites, 
Visit  to  the  villa  where  her  parents  Uved, 

And  birth  there  of  his  babe.     Divergence  here ! 
I  simply  take  the  facts,  ask  what  they  show. 

First  comes  this  thunderclap  of  a  surprise : 
Then  follow  aU  the  signs  and  silences 
Premonitory  of  earthquake.     Paolo  first 
Vanished,  was  swept  o£E  somewhere,  lost  to  Borne : 
(Wells  dry  up,  while  the  sky  is  sunny  and  blue.) 
Then  Guido  girds  himself  for  enterprise, 
Hies  to  Vittiano,  counsels  with  his  steward, 
Comes  to  terms  with  four  peasants  young  and  bold, 
And  starts  for  Rome  the  Holy,  reaches  her 
At  very  holiest,  for  'tis  Christmas  Eve, 
And  makes  straight  for  the  Abate's  dried-up  font. 
The  lodge  where  Paolo  ceased  to  work  the  pipes. 
And  then,  rest  taken,  observation  made 
And  plan  completed,  all  in  a  grim  week. 
The  five  proceed  in  a  body,  reach  the  place, 

—  Pietro's,  at  the  Paolina,  silent,  lone, 
And  stupefied  by  the  propitious  snow. 

'T  is  one  i'  the  evening  :  knock  :  a  voice  "  Who  's  there  ? ' 
"  Friends  with  a  letter  from  the  priest  your  friend." 
At  the  door,  straight  smiles  old  Violante's  self. 
She  falls,  — her  son-in-law  stabs  through  and  through, 
Reaches  through  her  at  Pietro  —  "  With  your  son 
This  is  the  way  to  settle  suits,  good  sire  !  " 
He  bellows  "  Mercy  for  heaven,  not  for  earth  ! 
Leave  to  confess  and  save  my  sinful  soul, 
Then  do  your  pleasure  on  the  body  of  me  !  " 
— "  Nay,  father,  soul  with  body  must  take  its  chance !  " 
He  presently  got  his  portion  and  lay  still. 
And  last,  Pompilia  rushes  here  and  there 
Like  a  dove  among  the  lightnings  in  her  brake, 
Falls  also :  Guide's,  this  last  husbaad's-act. 


TERTIUM  QUID  137 

He  lifts  her  by  the  long  dishevelled  hair, 
Holds  her  away  at  arm's  length  with  one  hand, 
While  the  other  tries  if  life  come  from  the  mouth  — 
Looks  out  his  whole  heart's  hate  on  the  shut  eyes. 
Draws  a  deep  satisfied  breath,  «  So  —  dead  at  last ! " 
Throws  down  the  burden  on  dead  Pietro's  knees. 
And  ends  all  with  "  Let  us  away,  my  boys !  " 

And,  as  they  left  by  one  door,  in  at  the  other 

Tumbled  the  neighbors  —  for  the  shrieks  had  pierced 

To  the  miU  and  the  grange,  this  cottage  and  that  shed. 

Soon  followed  the  Public  Force  ;  pursuit  began 

Though  Guide  had  the  start  and  chose  the  road  : 

So,  that  same  night  was  he,  with  the  other  four, 

Overtaken  near  Baccano,  —  where  they  sank 

By  the  wayside,  in  some  shelter  meant  for  beasts, 

And  now  lay  heaped  together,  nuzzling  swine, 

Each  wrapped  in  bloody  cloak,  each  grasping  still 

His  unwiped  weapon,  sleeping  all  the  same 

The  sleep  o'  the  just,  —  a  journey  of  twenty  miles 

Brought  just  and  unjust  to  a  level,  you  see. 

The  only  one  i'  the  world  that  suffered  aught 

By  the  whole  night's  toil  and  trouble,  flight  and  chase. 

Was  just  the  officer  who  took  them.  Head 

O'  the  PubUo  Force,  —  Patrizj,  zealous  soul, 

Who,  having  but  duty  to  sustain  weak  flesh, 

Got  heated,  caught  a  fever  and  so  died  : 

A  warning  to  the  over-vigilant, 

—  Virtue  in  a  chafe  should  change  her  linen  quick, 

Lest  pleurisy  get  start  of  providence. 

(That 's  for  the  Cardinal,  and  told,  I  think !) 

Well,  they  bring  back  the  company  to  Rome. 
Says  Guido,  "  By  your  leave,  I  fain  would  ask 
How  you  found  out  't  was  I  who  did  the  deed  ? 
What  put  you  on  my  trace,  a  foreigner. 
Supposed  in  Arezzo,  —  and  assuredly  safe 
Except  for  an  oversight :  who  told  you,  pray  ?  " 
"  Why,  naturally  your  wife !  "     Down  Guido  drops 
O'  the  horse  he  rode,  —  they  have  to  steady  and  stay, 
At  either  side  the  brute  that  bore  him,  bound. 
So  strange  it  seemed  his  wife  should  live  and  speak ! 
She  had  prayed  —  at  least  so  people  tell  you  now  — 
For  but  one  thing  to  the  Virgin  for  herself. 
Not  simply,  as  did  Pietro  'mid  the  stabs,  — 
Time  to  confess  and  get  her  own  soul  saved  — 


138  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

But  time  to  make  the  truth  apparent,  truth^ 

For  God's  sake,  lest  men  should  believe  a  lie  : 

Which  seems  to  have  been  about  the  single  prayer 

She  ever  put  up,  that  was  granted  her. 

With  this  hope  in  her  head,  of  telling  truth,  — 

Being  familiarized  with  pain,  beside,  — 

She  bore  the  stabbing  to  a  certain  pitch 

Without  a  useless  cry,  was  flung  for  dead 

On  Pietro's  lap,  and  so  attained  her  point. 

Her  friends  subjoin  this  —  have  I  done  with  them  ?  — 

And  cite  the  miracle  of  continued  life 

(She  was  not  dead  when  I  arrived  just  now) 

As  attestation  to  her  probity. 

Does  it  strike  your  Excellency  ?     Why,  your  Highness, 

The  self-command  and  even  the  final  prayer. 

Our  candor  must  acknowledge  explicable 

As  easily  by  the  consciousness  of  guilt. 

So,  when  they  add  that  her  confession  runs 

She  was  of  wifehood  one  white  innocence 

In  thought,  word,  act,  from  first  of  her  short  life 

To  last  of  it ;  praying,  i'  the  face  of  death. 

That  God  forgive  her  other  sins  —  not  this, 

She  is  charged  with  and  must  die  for,  that  she  failed 

Anyway  to  her  husband :  while  thereon 

Comments  the  old  Religious  —  "So  much  good, 

Patience  beneath  enormity  of  iQ, 

I  hear  to  my  confusion,  woe  is  me. 

Sinner  that  I  stand,  shamed  in  the  walk  and  gait 

I  have  practised  and  grown  old  in,  by  a  child !  "  — 

Guido's  friends  shrug  the  shoulder,  "  Just  this  same 

Prodigious  absolute  calm  in  the  last  hour 

Confirms  us,  —  being  the  natural  result 

Of  a  life  which  proves  consistent  to  the  close. 

Having  braved  heaven  and  deceived  earth  throughout, 

She  braves  still  and  deceives  stUl,  gains  thereby 

Two  ends,  she  prizes  beyond  earth  or  heaven  : 

First  sets  her  lover  free,  imperilled  sore 

By  the  new  turn  things  take  :  he  answers  yet 

For  the  part  he  played  :  they  have  summoned  him  indeed 

The  past  ripped  up,  he  may  be  punished  still : 

What  better  way  of  saving  him  than  this  ? 

Then,  — thus  she  dies  revenged  to  the  uttermost 

On  Guido,  drags  him  with  her  in  the  dark. 

The  lower  stLQ  the  better,  do  you  doubt  ? 

Thus,  two  ways,  does  she  love  her  love  to  the  end. 


TERTIUM  QUID  139 

And  hate  her  hate,  —  death,  hell  is  no  such  price 
To  pay  for  these,  —  lovers  and  haters  hold." 

But  there  's  another  parry  for  the  thrust. 
"  Confession,"  cry  folks  —  "a  confession,  think  ! 
Confession  of  the  moribund  is  true  !  " 
Which  of  them,  my  wise  friends  ?     This  public  one, 
Or  the  private  other  we  shall  never  know  ? 
The  private  may  contain  —  your  casuists  teach  — 
The  acknowledgment  of,  and  the  penitence  for, 
That  other  pubUo  one,  so  people  say. 
However  it  be,  —  we  trench  on  delicate  ground, 
Her  Eminence  is  peeping  o'er  the  cards,  — 
Can  one  find  nothing  in  behalf  of  this 
Catastrophe  ?     Deaf  folks  accuse  the  dumb  ! 
You  criticise  the  drunken  reel,  fool's-speech, 
Maniacal  gesture  of  the  man,  —  we  grant ! 
But  who  poured  poison  in  his  cup,  we  ask  ? 
Recall  the  list  of  his  excessive  wrongs, 
First  cheated  in  his  wife,  robbed  by  her  kin, 
Rendered  anon  the  laughing-stock  o'  the  world 
By  the  story,  true  or  false,  of  his  wife's  birth, — 
The  last  seal  publicly  apposed  to  shame 
By  the  open  flight  of  wife  and  priest,  —  why,  Sirs, 
Step  out  of  Rome  a  furlong,  would  you  know 
What  anotherguess  tribunal  than  ours  here, 
Mere  worldly  Court  without  the  help  of  grace. 
Thinks  of  just  that  one  incident  o'  the  flight  ? 
Guido  preferred  the  same  complaint  before 
The  court  at  Arezzo,  bar  of  the  Granduke,  — 
In  virtue  of  it  being  Tuscany 
Where  the  offence  had  rise  and  flight  began,  — 
Selfsame  complaint  he  made  in  the  sequel  here 
Where  the  offence  grew  to  the  full,  the  flight 
Ended  :  offence  and  flight,  one  fact  judged  twice 
'  By  two  distinct  tribunals,  —  what  result  ? 
There  was  a  sentence  passed  at  the  same  time 
By  Arezzo  and  confirmed  by  the  Granduke, 
Which  nothing  balks  of  swift  and  sure  effect 
But  absence  of  the  guilty,  (flight  to  Rome 
Frees  them  from  Tuscan  jurisdiction  now) 
—  Condemns  the  wife  to  the  opprobrious  doom 
Of  all  whom  law  just  lets  escape  from  death. 
The  Stinche,  House  of  Punishment,  for  life,  — 
That's  what  the  wife  deserves  in  Tuscany,: 
Here,  she  deserves  —  remitting  with  a  smUe 


140  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

To  her  father's  house,  main  object  of  the  flight ! 
The  thief  presented  with  the  thing  he  steals  ! 

At  this  discrepancy  of  judgments — mad, 

The  man  took  on  himself  the  office,  judged ; 

And  the  only  argument  against  the  use 

O'  the  law  he  thus  took  into  his  own  hands 

Is  .  .  .  what,  I  ask  you  ?  —  that,  revenging  wrong, 

He  did  not  revenge  sooner,  kill  at  first 

Whom  he  killed  last !     That  is  the  final  charge. 

Sooner  ?     What 's  soon  or  late  i'  the  case  ?  —  ask  we. 

A  wound  i'  the  flesh  no  doubt  wants  prompt  redress ; 

It  smarts  a  little  to-day,  well  in  a  week. 

Forgotten  in  a  month ;  or  never,  or  now,  revenge ! 

But  a  wound  to  the  soul  ?     That  rankles  worse  and  worsa 

Shall  I  comfort  you,  explaining  —  "  Not  this  once 

But  now  it  may  be  some  five  hundred  times 

I  called  you  nrffian,  pandar,  liar  and  rogue : 

The  injury  must  be  less  by  lapse  of  time  ?  " 

The  wrong  is  a  wrong,  one  and  immortal  too. 

And  that  you  bore  it  those  five  hundred  times. 

Let  it  rankle  ixnrevenged  five  hundred  years. 

Is  just  five  hundred  wrongs  the  more  and  worse  ! 

Men,  plagued  this  fashion,  get  to  explode  this  way, 

If  left  no  other. 

"  But  we  left  this  man 
Many  another  way,  and  there  's  his  fault," 
'T  is  answered  —  "  He  himself  preferred  our  arm 
O'  the  law  to  fight  his  battle  with.     No  doubt 
We  did  not  open  biTm  an  armory 
To  pick  and  choose  from,  use,  and  then  reject. 
He  tries  one  weapon  and  fails,  —  he  tries  the  next 
And  next :  he  flourishes  wit  and  common  sense. 
They  fail  him,  — he  pKes  logic  doughtily, 
It  fails  him  too,  —  thereon,  discovers  last 
He  has  been  blind  to  the  combustibles  — 
That  aU  the  while  he  is  aglow  with  ire. 
Boiling  with  irrepressible  rage,  and  so 
May  try  explosives  and  discard  cold  steel,  — 
So  hires  assassins,  plots,  plans,  executes  ! 
Is  this  the  honest  self-forgetting  rage 
We  are  called  to  pardon  ?     Does  the  furious  bull 
Pick  out  four  help-mates  from  the  grazing  herd 
And  journey  with  them  over  bill  and  dale 
TUl  he  find  his  enemy  ?  " 


TERTIUM  QUID  141 

What  rejoinder  ?  save 
That  friends  accept  our  bull-similitude. 
BuU-like,  —  the  indiscriminate  slaughter,  rude 
And  reckless  aggravation  of  revenge, 
"Were  all  i'  the  way  o'  the  brute  who  never  once 
Ceases,  amid  all  provocation  more. 
To  bear  in  mind  the  first  tormentor,  first 
Giver  o'  the  wound  that  goaded  him  to  fight : 
And,  though  a  dozen  follow  and  reinforce 
The  aggressor,  wound  in  front  and  wound  in  flank, 
Continues  undisturbedly  pursuit, 
And  only  after  prostrating  his  prize 
Turns  on  the  pettier,  makes  a  general  prey. 
So  Guido  rushed  against  Violante,  first 
Author  of  all  his  wrongs,  fons  et  origo 
Malorum  —  drops  first,  deluge  since,  —  which  done, 
He  finished  with  the  rest.     Do  you  blame  a  bull  ? 

In  truth  you  look  as  puzzled  as  ere  I  preached  ! 

How  is  that  ?     There  are  difficulties  perhaps 

On  any  supposition,  and  either  side. 

Each  party  wants  too  much,  claims  sympathy 

For  its  object  of  compassion,  more  than  just. 

Cry  the  wife's  friends,  "  O  the  enormous  crime 

Caused  by  no  provocation  in  the  world !  " 
"  Was  not  the  wife  a  little  weak  ?  "  —  inquire  — 
"  Punished  extravagantly,  if  you  please, 

But  meriting  a  little  punishment  ? 

One  treated  inconsiderately,  say, 

Eather  than  one  deserving  not  at  all 

Treatment  and  discipline  o'  the  harsher  sort  ?  " 

No,  they  must  have  her  purity  itself, 

Quite  angel,  —  and  her  parents  angels  too 

Of  an  aged  sort,  immaculate,  word  and  deed : 

At  all  events,  so  seeming,  till  the  fiend. 

Even  Guido,  by  his  folly,  forced  from  them 

The  untoward  avowal  of  the  trick  o'  the  birth. 

Which  otherwise  were  safe  and  secret  now. 

Why,  here  you  have  the  awfuUest  of  crimes 

For  nothing  !     Hell  broke  loose  on  a  butterfly  ! 

A  dragon  born  of  rose-dew  and  the  moon ! 

Yet  here  is  the  monster  !     Why  he  's  a  mere  man— 

Born,  bred  and  brought  up  in  the  usual  way. 

His  mother  loves  him,  still  his  brothers  stick 

To  the  good  fellow  of  the  boyish  games ; 

The  Governor  of  his  town  knows  and  approves, 


142  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  Archbishop  of  the  place  knows  and  assists  : 

Here  he  has  Cardinal  This  to  vouch  for  the  past, 

Cardinal  That  to  trust  for  the  future,  —  match 

And  marriage  were  a  Cardinal's  making,  —  in  short. 

What  if  a  tragedy  be  acted  here 

Impossible  for  malice  to  improve, 

And  innocent  Guido  with  his  innocent  four 

Be  added,  all  five,  to  the  guilty  three. 

That  we  of  these  last  days  be  edified 

With  one  full  taste  o'  the  justice  of  the  world  ? 

The  long  and  the  short  is,  truth  seems  what  I  show  :  — 

Undoubtedly  no  pains  ought  to  be  spared 

To  give  the  mob  an  inkling  of  our  Ughts. 

It  seems  unduly  harsh  to  put  the  man 

To  the  torture,  as  I  hear  the  court  intends, 

Though  readiest  way  of  twisting  out  the  truth ; 

He  is  noble,  and  he  may  be  innocent. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  they  exempt  the  man 

(As  it  is  also  said  they  hesitate 

On  the  fair  ground,  presumptive  guilt  is  weak 

r  the  case  of  nobility  and  privilege),  — 

What  crime  that  ever  was,  ever  will  be, 

Deserves  the  torture  ?     Then  abolish  it ! 

You  see  the  reduction  ad  absurdum,  Sirs  ? 

Her  Excellency  must  pronounce,  in  fine  ! 
What,  she  prefers  going  and  joining  play  ? 
Her  Highness  finds  it  late,  intends  retire  ? 
I  am  of  their  mind  :  only,  all  this  talk  talked, 
'T  was  not  for  nothing  that  we  talked,  I  hope  ? 
Both  know  as  much  about  it,  now,  at  least, 
As  all  Bome  :  no  particular  thanks,  I  beg  ! 
(You  'U  see,  I  have  not  so  advanced  myself, 
After  my  teaching  the  two  idiots  here !) 


V. 

COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI. 

Thanks,  Sir,  but,  should  it  please  the  reverend  Court, 

I  feel  I  can  stand  somehow,  half  sit  down 

Without  help,  make  shift  to  even  speak,  you  see, 

Fortified  by  the  sip  of  .  .  .  why,  'tis  wine, 

Velletri,  —  and  not  vinegar  and  gall, 

So  changed  and  good  the  times  grow !    Thanks,  kind  Sir ! 

Oh,  but  one  sip 's  enough !     I  want  my  head 

To  save  my  neck,  there 's  work  awaits  me  still. 

How  cautious  and  considerate  .  .  .  aie,  aie,  aie, 

Nor  your  fault,  sweet  Sir  !     Come,  you  take  to  heart 

An  ordinary  matter.     Law  is  law. 

Noblemen  were  exempt,  the  vulgar  thought, 

From  racking;  but,  since  law  thinks  otherwise, 

I  have  been  put  to  the  rack  :  all 's  over  now. 

And  neither  wrist  —  what  men  style,  out  of  joint : 

If  any  harm  be,  't  is  the  shoulder-blade. 

The  left  one,  that  seems  wrong  i'  the  socket,  —  Sirs, 

Much  could  not  happen,  I  was  quick  to  faint, 

Being  past  my  prime  of  life,  and  out  of  health. 

In  short  I  thank  you,  —  yes,  and  mean  the  word. 

Needs  must  the  Court  be  slow  to  understand 

How  this  quite  novel  foi-m  of  taking  pain, 

This  getting  tortured  merely  in  the  flesh. 

Amounts  to  almost  an  agreeable  change 

In  my  case,  me  fastidious,  plied  too  much 

With  opposite  treatment,  used  (forgive  the  joke) 

To  the  rasp-tooth  toying  with  this  brain  of  mine, 

And,  in  and  out  my  heart,  the  play  o'  the  probe. 

Four  years  have  I  been  operated  on 

I'  the  soul,  do  you  see  —  its  tense  or  tremulous  part  — 

My  self-respect,  my  care  for  a  good  name, 

Pride  in  an  old  one,  love  of  kindred  —  just 

A  mother,  brothers,  sisters,  and  the  like. 

That  looked  up  to  my  face  when  days  were  dim, 

And  fancied  they  found  light  there  —  no  one  spot. 

Foppishly  sensitive,  but  has  paid  its  pang. 


144  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

That,  and  not  this  you  now  oblige  me  with, 

That  was  the  Vigil-torment,  if  you  please ! 

The  poor  old  noble  House  that  drew  the,  rags 

O'  the  Franceschini's  once  superb  array 

Close  round  her,  hoped  to  sUnk  unchallenged  by,  — • 

Pluck  o£B  these  !     Turn  the  drapery  inside  out 

And  teach  the  tittering  town  how  scarlet  wears ! 

Show  men  the  lucklessness,  the  improvidence 

Of  the  easy-natured  Count  before  this  Count, 

The  father  I  have  some  slight  feeling  for. 

Who  let  the  world  slide,  nor  foresaw  that  friends 

Then  proud  to  cap  and  kiss  their  patron's  shoe, 

Would,  when  the  purse  he  left  held  spider-webs, 

Properly  push  his  child  to  waU  one  day ! 

Mimic  the  tetchy  humor,  furtive  glance, 

And  brow  where  half  was  furious,  half  fatigued, 

O'  the  same  son  got  to  be  of  middle  age. 

Sour,  saturnine,  —  your  humble  servant  here,  — 

When  things  go  cross  and  the  young  wife,  he  finds 

Take  to  the  window  at  a  whisde's  bid. 

And  yet  demurs  thereon,  preposterous  fool  I  — 

Whereat  the  worthies  judge  he  wants  advice 

And  beg  to  civilly  ask  what 's  evil  here, 

Perhaps  remonstrate  on  the  habit  they  deem 

He  's  given  unduly  to,  of  beating  her : 

.  .  .  Oh,  sure  he  beats  her  —  why  says  John  so  else, 

Who  is  cousin  to  George  who  is  sib  to  Tecla's  self 

Who  cooks  the  meal  and  combs  the  lady's  hair  ? 

What !     'T  is  my  wrist  you  merely  dislocate 

For  the  future  when  you  mean  me  martyrdom  ? 

—  Let  the  old  mother's  economy  alone, 

How  the  brocade-strips  saved  o'  the  seamy  side 
O'  the  wedding-gown  buy  raiment  for  a  year  ? 

—  How  she  can  dress  and  dish  up  —  lordly  dish 
Fit  for  a  duke,  lamb's  head  and  purtenance  — 
With  her  proud  hands,  feast  household  so  a  week  ? 
No  word  o'  the  wine  rejoicing  God  and  man. 
The  less  when  three-parts  water  ?     Then,  I  say, 
A  trifle  of  torture  to  the  flesh,  like  yours, 

While  soul  is  spared  such  foretaste  of  hell-fire. 
Is  naught.     But  I  curtail  the  catalogue 
Through  policy,  —  a  rhetorician's  trick,  — 
Because  I  would  reserve  some  choicer  points 
O'  the  practice,  more  exactly  parallel 
(Having  an  eye  to  climax)  with  what  gift. 
Eventual  grace  the  Court  may  have  in  store 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINl  146 

a 

I'  the  way  of  plague  —  what  crown  of  punishments. 

When  I  am  hanged  or  headed,  time  enough 

To  prove  the  tenderness  of  only  that, 

Mere  heading,  hanging,  —  not  their  counterpart, 

Not  demonstration  public  and  precise 

That  I,  having  married  the  mongrel  of  a  drah, 

Am  hound  to  grant  that  mongrel-brat,  my  wife, 

Her  mother's  birthright-license  as  is  just,  — 

Let  her  sleep  undisturbed,  i'  the  family  style, 

Her  sleep  out  in  the  embraces  of  a  priest, 

Nor  disallow  their  bastard  as  my  heir  ! 

Your  sole  mistake,  —  dare  I  submit  so  much 

To  the  reverend  Court  ?  —  has  been  in  all  this  pains 

To  make  a  stone  roU  down  hiU,  —  rack  and  wrench 

And  rend  a  man  to  pieces,  all  for  what  ? 

Why  —  make  him  ope  mouth  in  his  own  defence. 

Show  cause  for  what  he  has  done,  the  irregular  deed, 

(Since  that  he  did  it,  scarce  dispute  can  be) 

And  clear  his  fame  a  little,  beside  the  luck 

Of  stopping  even  yet,  if  possible, 

Discomfort  to  his  flesh  from  noose  or  axe  — 

For  that,  out  come  the  implements  of  law ! 

May  it  content  my  lords  the  gracious  Court 

To  listen  only  half  so  patient-long 

As  I  will  in  that  sense  profusely  speak, 

And  —  fle,  they  shall  not  call  in  screws  to  help ! 

I  killed  Pompilia  Franceschini,  Sirs  ; 

Killed  too  the  Comparini,  husband,  wife. 

Who  called  themselves,  by  a  notorious  lie, 

Her  father  and  her  mother  to  ruin  me. 

There  's  the  irregular  deed  :  you  want  no  more 

Than  right  interpretation  of  the  sanfe. 

And  truth  so  far  —  am  I  to  understand  ? 

To  that  then,  with  convenient  speed,  —  because 

Now  I  consider,  —  yes,  despite  my  boast. 

There  is  an  ailing  in  this  omoplate 

May  clip  ray  speech  all  too  abruptly  short, 

Whatever  the  good-will  in  me.     Now  for  truth ! 

I'  the  name  of  the  indivisible  Trinity ! 
Will  my  lords,  in  the  plenitude  of  their  light, 
Weigh  well  that  all  this  trouble  has  come  on  me 
Through  my  persistent  treading  in  the  paths 
Where  I  was  trained  to  go,  —  wearing  that  yoke 
My  shoulder  was  predestined  to  receive, 
Born  to  the  hereditary  stoop  and  crease  ? 


146  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Noble,  I  recognized  my  nobler  still, 
The  Church,  my  suzerain ;  no  mock-mistress,  she ; 
The  secular  owned  the  spiritual :  mates  of  mine 
Have  thrown  their  careless  hoofs  up  at  her  call 
"  Forsake  the  clover  and  come  drag  my  wain  !  " 
There  they  go  cropping :  I  protruded  nose 
To  halter,  bent  my  back  of  docile  beast. 
And  now  am  whealed,  one  wide  wound  all  of  me. 
For  being  found  at  the  eleventh  hour  o'  the  day 
Padding  the  mill-track,  not  neck-deep  in  grass  : 

—  My  one  fault,  I  am  stiffened  by  my  work, 

—  My  one  reward,  I  help  the  Court  to  smile ! 

I  am  representative  of  a  great  line, 
One  of  the  first  of  the  old  families 
In  Ajezzo,  ancientest  of  Tuscan  towns. 
When  my  worst  foe  is  fain  to  challenge  this, 
His  worst  exception  runs  —  not  first  in  rank 
But  second,  noble  in  the  n«xt  degree 
Only  ;  not  malice'  self  maligns  me  more. 
So,  my  lord  opposite  has  composed,  we  know, 
A  marvel  of  a  book,  sustains  the  point 
That  Francis  boasts  the  primacy  'mid  saints ; 
Yet  not  inaptly  hath  his  argument 
Obtained  response  from  yon  my  other  lord 
In  thesis  published  with  the  world's  applause 

—  Rather  't  is  Dominic  such  post  befits : 
Why,  at  the  worst,  Francis  stays  Francis  still. 
Second  in  rank  to  Dominic  it  may  be. 

Still,  very  saintly,  very  like  our  Lord ; 

And  I  at  least  descend  from  Guido  once 

Homager  to  the  Empire,  nought  below  — 

Of  which  account  as  proof  that,  none  o'  the  line 

Having  a  single  gift  beyond  brave  blood, 

Or  able  to  do  aught  but  give,  give,  give 

In  blood  and  brain,  in  house  and  land  and  cash, 

Not  get  and  garner  as  the  vulgar  may. 

We  became  poor  as  Francis  or  our  Lord. 

Be  that  as  it  likes  you.  Sirs,  —  whenever  it  chanced 

Myself  grew  capable  anyway  of  remark, 

(Which  was  soon  —  penary  makes  wit  premature) 

This  struck  me,  I  was  poor  who  should  be  rich 

Or  pay  that  fault  to  the  world  which  trifles  not 

When  lineage  lacks  the  flag  yet  lifts  the  pole  : 

On,  therefore,  I  must  move  forthwith,  transfer 

My  stranded  self,  born  fish  with  giU  and  tin 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  147 

Fit  for  the  deep  sea,  now  left  flap  bare-bacl^ed 

In  slush  and  sand,  a  show  to  crawlers  vile 

Reared  of  the  low-tide  and  aright  therein. 

The  enviable  youth  with  the  old  name, 

Wide  chest,  stout  arms,  sound  brow  and  pricking  veins, 

A  heartful  of  desire,  man's  natural  load, 

A  brainful  of  belief,  the  noble's  lot,  — 

All  this  life,  cramped  and  gasping,  high  and  dry 

I'  the  wave's  retreat,  —  the  misery,  good  my  lords, 

Which  made  you  merriment  at  Rome  of  late,  — 

It  made  me  reason,  rather  —  muse,  demand 

—  Why  our  bare  dropping  palace,  in  the  street 

Where  such-an-one  whose  grandfather  sold  tripe 

Was  adding  to  his  purchased  pile  a  fourth 

Tall  tower,  could  hardly  show  a  turret  sound  ? 

Why  Countess  Beatrice,  whose  son  I  am, 

Cowered  in  the  winter-time  as  she  spun  flax, 

Blew  on  the  earthen  basket  of  live  ash. 

Instead  of  jaunting  forth  in  coach  and  six 

Like  such-another  widow  who  ne'er  was  wed  ? 

I  asked  my  fellows,  how  came  this  about  ? 

"  Why,  Jack,  the  sutler's  child,  perhaps  the  camp's, 
Went  to  the  wars,  fought  sturdily,  took  a  town 
And  got  rewarded  as  was  natural. 
She  of  the  coach  and  six  —  excuse  me  there  ! 
Why,  don't  you  know  the  story  of  her  friend  ? 
A  clown  dressed  vines  on  somebody's  estate, 
His  boy  recoiled  from  muck,  liked  Latin  more. 
Stuck  to  his  pen  and  got  to  be  a  priest, 
Till  one  day  .  .  .  don't  you  mind  that  telling  tract 
Against  Molinos,  the  old  Cardinal  wrote  ? 
He  penned  and  dropped  it  in  the  patron's  desk, 
Who,  deep  in  thought  and  absent  much  of  mind, 
Licensed  the  thing,  allowed  it  for  his  own ; 
Quick  came  promotion,  —  suum  cuiqtce,  Count ! 
Oh,  he  can  pay  for  coach  and  six,  be  sure !  " 

«  —  Well,  let  me  go,  do  likewise  :  war 's  the  word  — 
That  way  the  Franceschini  worked  at  first, 
I'll  take  my  turn,  try  soldiership."  —  "  What,  you? 
The  eldest  son  and  heir  and  prop  o'  the  house, 
So  do  you  see  your  duty  ?     Here  's  your  post. 
Hard  by  the  hearth  and  altar.     (Roam  from  roof, 
This  youngster,  play  the  gypsy  out  of  doors. 
And  who  keeps  kith  and  kin  that  fall  on  us  ?) 
Stand  fast,  stick  tight,  conserve  your  gods  at  home  !  " 

«  —  Well  then,  the  quiet  course,  the  contrary  trade  ! 


148  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

We  had  a  cousin  amongst  us  once  was  Pope, 
And  minor  glories  manifold.     Try  the  Church, 
The  tonsure,  and,  —  since  heresy 's  but  half-slain 
Even  by  the  Cardinal's  tract  he  thought  he  wrote,  ^ 
Have  at  Molinos  !  "  —  "  Have  at  a  fool's  head  ! 
You  a  priest  ?     How  were  marriage  possible  ? 
There  must  be  Franceschini  tUl  time  ends  — 
That 's  your  vocation.     Make  your  brothers  priests, 
Paul  shall  be  porporate,  and  Girolamo  step 
Red-stockinged  in  the  presence  when  you  choose, 
But  save  one  Franceschini  for  the  age ! 
Be  not  the  vine  but  dig  and  dung  its  root, 
Be  not  a  priest  but  gird  up  priesthood's  loins. 
With  one  foot  in  Arezzo  stride  to  Rome, 
Spend  yourself  there  and  bring  the  purchase  back  ! 
Go  hence  to  Rome,  be  guided  !  " 

So  I  was. 
I  turned  alike  from  the  hillside  zigzag  thread 
Of  way  to  the  table-land  a  soldier  takes, 
Ahke  from  the  low-lying  pasture-place 
Where  churchmen  graze,  recline  and  ruminate, 
—  Ventured  to  mount  no  platform  like  my  lords 
Who  judge  the  world,  bear  brain  I  dare  not  brag  — 
But  stationed  me,  might  thus  the  expression  serve. 
As  who  should  fetch  and  carry,  come  and  go, 
Meddle  and  make  i'  the  cause  my  lords  love  most  — 
The  public  weal,  which  hangs  to  the  law,  which  holds 
By  the  Church,  which  happens  to  be  through  God  himsel£ 
Humbly  I  helped  the  Church  till  here  I  stand,  — 
Or  would  stand  but  for  the  omoplate,  you  see  ! 
Bidden  qualify  for  Rome,  I,  having  a  field. 
Went,  sold  it,  laid  the  sum  at  Peter's  foot : 
Which  means  —  I  settled  home-accounts  with  speed, 
Set  apart  just  a  modicum  should  suffice 
To  hold  the  villa's  head  above  the  waves 
Of  weed  inundating  its  oil  and  wine. 
And  prop  roof,  stanchion  wall  o'  the  palace  so 
As  to  keep  breath  i'  the  body,  out  of  heart 
Amid  the  advance  of  neighboring  loftiness  — 
(People  like  building  where  they  used  to  beg)  — 
Till  succored  one  day,  —  shared  the  residue 
Between  my  mother  and  brothers  and  sisters  there, 
Black-eyed  babe  Donna  This  and  Donna  That, 
As  near  to  starving  as  might  decently  be, 
~  Left  myself  journey-charges,  change  of  suit, 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  149 

A  purse  to  put  i'  the  pocket  of  the  Groom 
O'  the  Chamber  of  the  patron,  and  a  glove 
With  a  ring  to  it  for  the  digits  of  the  niece 
Sure  to  be  helpful  in  bis  household,  —  then 
Started  for  Rome,  and  led  the  life  prescribed. 
Close  to  the  Church,  though  clean  of  it,  I  assumed 
Three  or  four  orders  of  no  consequence, 

—  They  cast  out  evil  spirits  and  exorcise, 
For  example  ;  bind  a  man  to  nothing  more, 
Give  clerical  savor  to  his  layman's-salt, 
Facilitate  his  claim  to  loaf  and  fish 

Should  mbacle  leave,  beyond  what  feeds  the  flock, 

Fragments  to  brim  the  basket  of  a  friend  — 

WhUe,  for  the  world's  sake,  I  rode,  danced  and  gamed, 

Quitted  me  like  a  courtier,  measured  mine 

With  whatsoever  blade  had  fame  in  fence, 

—  Ready  to  let  the  basket  go  its  round 

Even  though  my  turn  was  come  to  help  myself. 

Should  Dives  count  on  me  at  dinner-time 

As  just  the  understander  of  a  joke 

And  not  immoderate  in  repartee. 

Utrique  sic  joaratus,  Sirs,  I  said, 
"  Here,"  (in  the  fortitude  of  years  fifteen, 

So  good  a  pedagogue  is  penury) 
"  Here  wait,  do  service,  —  serving  and  to  serve  ! 

And,  in  due  time,  I  nowise  doubt  at  all. 

The  recognition  of  my  service  comes. 

Next  year  I  'm  only  sixteen.     I  can  wait." 

I  waited  thirty  years,  may  it  please  the  Court : 
Saw  meanwhile  many  a  denizen  o'  the  dung 
Hop,  skip,  jump  o'er  my  shoulder,  make  him  wings 
And  fly  aloft,  —  succeed,  in  the  usual  phrase. 
Every  one  soon  or  late  comes  round  by  Rome : 
Stand  still  here,  you  'U  see  all  in  turn  succeed. 
Why,  look  you,  so  and  so,  the  physician  here, 
My  father's  lacquey's  son  we  sent  to  school. 
Doctored  and  dosed  this  Eminence  and  tha,t. 
Salved  the  last  Pope  his  certain  obstinate  sore, 
Soon  bought  land  as  became  him,  names  it  now : 
I  grasp  bell  at  his  griffin-guarded  gate. 
Traverse  the  half-mile  avenue,  —  a  term, 
A  cypress,  and  a  statue,  three  and  three,  — 
Deliver  message  from  my  Monsignor, 
With  varletry  at  lounge  i'  the  vestibule 
I  'm  barred  from,  who  bear  mud  upon  my  shoe. 


150  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

My  father's  chaplain's  nephew,  Chamberlain,  — 

Nothing  less,  please  you  !  —  courteous  all  the  same, 

—  He  does  not  see  me  though  I  wait  an  hour 

At  his  staircase-landing  'twixt  the  brace  of  basts, 

A  noseless  SyUa,  Marius  maimed  to  match. 

My  father  gave  him  for  a  hexastich 

Made  on  my  birthday,  —  but  he  sends  me  down, 

To  make  amends,  that  relic  I  prize  most  — 

The  unburnt  end  o'  the  very  candle.  Sirs, 

Purfled  with  paint  so  prettUy  round  and  round. 

He  carried  in  such  state  last  Peter's-day,  — 

In  token  I,  his  gentleman  and  squire, 

Had  held  the  bridle,  walked  his  managed  mule 

Without  a  tittup  the  procession  through. 

Nay,  the  official,  —  one  you  know,  sweet  lords  !  — 

Who  drew  the  warrant  for  my  transfer  late 

To  the  New  Prisons  from  Tordinona,  —  he 

Graciously  had  remembrance  —  "  Francesc  .   .  .  ha? 

His  sire,  now  — how  a  thing  shall  come  about !  — 

Paid  me  a  dozen  florins  above  the  fee. 

For  drawing  deftly  up  a  deed  of  sale 

When  troubles  fell  so  thick  on  him,  good  heart, 

And  I  was  prompt  and  pushing  !     By  all  means ! 

At  the  New  Prisons  be  it  his  son  shall  lie,  — 

Anything  for  an  old  friend  !  "  and  thereat 

Signed  name  with  triple  flourish  underneath. 

These  were  my  fellows,  such  their  fortunes  now, 

While  I  —  kept  fasts  and  feasts  innumerable, 

Matins  and  vespers,  functions  to  no  end 

I'  the  train  of  Monsignor  and  Eminence, 

As  gentleman-squire,  and  for  my  zeal's  reward 

Have  rarely  missed  a  place  at  the  table-foot 

Except  when  some  Ambassador,  or  such  like, 

Brought  his  own  people.     Brief,  one  day  I  felt 

The  tick  of  time  inside  me,  turning-point 

And  slight  sense  there  was  now  enough  of  this : 

That  I  was  near  my  seventh  climacteric. 

Hard  upon,  if  not  over,  the  middle  life, 

And,  although  fed  by  the  east-wind,  fulsome-fine 

With  foretaste  of  the  Land  of  Promise,  stiU 

My  gorge  gave  symptom  it  might  play  me  false  ; 

Better  not  press  it  further,  —  be  content 

With  living  and  dying  only  a  nobleman. 

Who  merely  had  a  father  great  and  rich. 

Who  simply  had  one  greater  and  richer  yet. 

And  so  on  back  and  back  tUl  first  and  best 


COUNT  GUIDO  FEANCESCHINl  151 

Began  i'  the  night ;  I  finish  in  the  day. 

"  The  mother  must  be  getting  old,"  I  said ; 

"  The  sisters  are  well  wedded  away,  our  name 
Can  manage  to  pass  a  sister  off,  at  need, 
And  do  for  dowry :  both  my  brothers  thrive  — 
Regular  priests  they  are,  nor,  bat-like,  'bide 
'Twixt  flesh  and  fowl  with  neither  privilege. 
My  spare  revenue  must  keep  me  and  mine. 
I  am  tired  :  Arezzo's  air  is  good  to  breathe ; 
Vittiano,  —  one  limes  flocks  of  thrushes  there ; 
A  leathern  coat  costs  little  and  lasts  long : 
Let  me  bid  hope  good-bye,  content  at  home  !  " 
Thus,  one  day,  I  disbosomed  me  and  bowed. 
Whereat  began  the  little  buzz  and  thrill 
O'  the  gazers  round  me  ;  each  face  brightened  up : 
As  when  at  your  Casino,  deep  in  dawn, 
A  gamester  says  at  last,  "  I  play  no  more, 
Forego  gain,  acquiesce  in  loss,  withdraw 
Anyhow  :  "  and  the  watchers  of  his  ways, 
A  trifle  struck  compunctious  at  the  word, 
Yet  sensible  of  relief,  breathe  free  once  more, 
Break  up  the  ring,  venture  polite  advice  — 

"  How,  Sir  ?     So  scant  of  heart  and  hope  indeed  ? 
Retire  with  neither  cross  nor  pile  from  play  ?  — 
So  incurious,  so  short-casting  ? —  give  your  chance 
To  a  younger,  stronger,  bolder  spirit  belike, 
Just  when  luck  turns  and  the  fine  throw  sweeps  all  ? " 
Such  was  the  chorus  :  and  its  goodwill  meant  — 

"  See  that  the  loser  leave  door  handsomely ! 
There  's  an  ill  look,  —  it 's  sinister,  spoils  sport. 
When  an  old  bruised  and  battered  year-by-year 
Fighter  with  fortune,  not  a  penny  in  poke. 
Reels  down  the  steps  of  our  establishment 
And  staggers  on  broad  daylight  and  the  world, 
In  shagrag  beard  and  doleful  doublet,  drops 
And  breaks  his  heart  on  the  outside :  people  prate 
'  Such  is  the  profit  of  a  trip  upstairs  ! ' 
Contrive  he  sidle  forth,  balked  of  the  blow 
Best  dealt  by  way  of  moral,  bidding  down 
No  curse  but  blessings  rather  on  our  heads 
For  some  poor  prize  he  bears  at  tattered  breast, 
Some  palpable  sort  of  kind  of  good  to  set 
Over  and  against  the  grievance  :  give  him  quick !  " 
Whereon  protested  Paul,  "  Go  hang  yourselves  ! 
Leave  him  to  me.     Count  Guide  and  brother  of  mine, 
A  word  in  your  ear !     Take  courage,  since  faint  heart 


152  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Ne'er  won  .  .  .  aha,  fair  lady,  don't  men  say  ? 

There 's  a  sors,  there  's  a  right  Virgilian  dip  ! 

Do  you  see  the  happiness  o'  the  hint  ?     At  worst. 

If  the  Church  want  no  more  of  you,  the  Court 

No  more,  and  the  Camp  as  little,  the  ingrates,  —  come, 

Count  you  are  counted  :  still  you  've  coat  to  back, 

Not  cloth  of  gold  and  tissue,  as  we  hoped. 

But  cloth  with  sparks  and  spangles  on  its  frieze 

From  Camp,  Court,  Church,  enough  to  make  a  shine, 

Entitle  you  to  carry  home  a  wife 

With  the  proper  dowry,  let  the  worst  betide ! 

Why,  it  was  just  a  wife  you  meant  to  take !  " 

Now,  Paul's  advice  was  weighty :  priests  should  know : 

And  Paul  apprised  me,  ere  the  week  was  out. 

That  Pietro  and  Violante,  the  easy  pair, 

The  cits  enough,  with  stomach  to  be  more. 

Had  just  the  daughter  and  exact  the  sum 

To  truck  for  the  quality  of  myself  :  "  She  's  young, 

Pretty  and  rich :  you  're  noble,  classic,  choice. 

Is  it  to  be  a  match  ?  "  —  "A  match,"  said  I. 

Done  !     He  proposed  all,  I  accepted  all. 

And  we  performed  all.     So  I  said  and  did 

Simply.     As  simply  followed,  not  at  first. 

But  with  the  outbreak  of  misfortune,  stLU 

One  comment  on  the  saying  and  doing  —  "  What  ? 

No  blush  at  the  avowal  you  dared  buy 

A  girl  of  age  beseems  your  granddaughter, 

Like  ox  or  ass  ?     Are  flesh  and  blood  a  ware  ? 

Are  heart  and  soul  a  chattel  ?  " 

Softly,  Sirs! 
Will  the  Court  of  its  charity  teach  poor  me 
Anxious  to  learn,  of  any  way  i'  the  world. 
Allowed  by  custom  and  convenience,  save 
This  same  which,  taught  from  my  youth  up,  I  trod  ? 
Take  me  along  with  you  ;  where  was  the  wrong  step  ? 
If  what  I  gave  in  barter,  style  and  state 
And  all  that  hangs  to  Franceschinihood, 
Were  worthless,  —  why,  society  goes  to  ground. 
Its  rules  are  idiot's-rambling.     Honor  of  birth,  — 
If  that  thing  has  no  value,  cannot  buy 
Something  with  value  of  another  sort. 
You  've  no  reward  nor  punishment  to  give 
I'  the  giving  or  the  taking  honor  ;  straight 
Your  social  fabric,  pinnacle  to  base, 
Comes  down  a-clatter  like  a  house  of  cards. 


COUNT  GUI  DO  FRANCESCHINl  153 

Get  honor,  and  ^eep  honor  free  from  flaw, 
Aim  at  still  higher  honor,  —  gabble  o'  the  goose ! 
Go  bid  a  second  blockhead  like  myself 
Spend  fifty  years  in  guarding  bubbles  of  breath, 
Soapsuds  with  air  i'  the  belly,  gilded  brave. 
Guarded  and  guided,  aU  to  break  at  touch 
O'  the  first  young  girl's  hand  and  first  old  fool's  purse ! 
All  my  privation  and  endurance,  all 
Love,  loyalty  and  labor  dared  and  did, 
Fiddle-de-dee  !  —  why,  doer  and  darer  both,  — 
Count  Guido  Franceschini  had  hit  the  mark 
Far  better,  spent  his  Kfe  with  more  effect. 
As  a  dancer  or  a  prizer,  trades  that  pay ! 
On  the  other  hand,  bid  this  buffoonery  cease, 
Admit  that  honor  is  a  privilege, 
The  question  follows,  privilege  worth  what? 
Why,  worth  the  market-price,  —  now  up,  now  down, 
Just  so  with  this  as  with  aU  other  ware  : 
Therefore  essay  the  market,  sell  your  name. 
Style  and  condition  to  who  buys  them  best ! 
"  Does  my  name  purchase,"  had  I  dared  inquire, 
*'  Your  niece,  my  lord  ?  "  there  would  have  been  rebuff 

Though  courtesy,  your  Lordship  cannot  else  — 
"  Not  altogether !     Bank  for  rank  may  stand : 
But  I  have  wealth  beside,  you  —  poverty  ; 
Your  scale  flies  up  there  :  bid  a  second  bid. 
Hank  too  and  wealth  too !  "     Reasoned  like  yourself ! 
But  was  it  to  you  I  went  with  goods  to  sell  ? 
This  time  't  was  my  scale  quietly  kissed  the  ground, 
Mere  rank  against  mere  wealth  —  some  youth  beside. 
Some  beauty  too,  throvni  into  the  bargain,  just 
As  the  buyer  likes  or  lets  alone.     I  thought 
To  deal  o'  the  square  :  others  find  fault,  it  seems  : 
The  thing  is,  those  my  offer  most  concerned, 
Pietro,  Violante,  cried  they  fair  or  foul  ? 
What  did  they  make  o'  the  terms  ?     Preposterous  terms  ? 
Why  then  accede  so  promptly,  close  with  such 
Nor  take  a  minute  to  chaffer  ?     Bargain  struck. 
They  straight  grew  bilious,  wished  their  money  back, 
Repented  them,  no  doubt :  why,  so  did  I, 
So  did  your  Lordship,  if  town-talk  be  true, 
Of  paying  a  full  farm's  worth  for  that  piece 
By  Pietro  of  Cortona — probably 
His  scholar  Giro  Ferri  may  have  retouched  — 
You  earing  more  for  color  than  design  — - 
Getting  a  little  tired  of  cupids  too. 


154  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

That 's  incident  to  all  the  folk  who  buy  ! 
I  am  charged,  I  know,  with  gilding  fact  by  fraud ; 
I  falsified  and  fabricated,  wrote 
Myself  down  roughly  richer  than  I  prove, 
Gendered  a  wrong  revenue,  —  grant  it  all ! 
Mere  grace,  mere  coquetry  such  fraud,  I  say : 
A  flourish  round  the  figures  of-  a  sum 
For  fashion's  sake,  that  deceives  nobody. 
The  veritable  back-bone,  understood 
Essence  of  this  same  bargain,  blank  and  bare, 
Being  the  exchange  of  quaUty  for  wealth,  — 
What  may  such  fancy-flights  be  ?     Flecks  of  oil 
Flirted  by  chapmen  where  plain  dealing  grates. 
I  may  have  dripped  a  drop  —  "  My  name  I  sell ; 
Not  but  that  I  too  boast  my  wealth  "  —  as  they, 
'  —  We  bring  you  riches  ;  still  our  ancestor 
Was  hardly  the  rapscallion,  folk    saw  flogged, 
But  heir  to  we  know  who,  were  rights  of  force !  " 
They  knew  and  I  knew  where  the  back-bone  lurked 
1'  the  writhings  of  the  bargain,  lords,  believe ! 
I  paid  down  all  engaged  for,  to  a  doit. 
Delivered  them  just  that  which,  their  life  long, 
They  hungered  in  the  hearts  of  them  to  gain  — 
Incorporation  with  nobility  thus 
In  word  and  deed  :  for  that  they  gave  me  wealth. 
But  when  they  came  to  try  their  gain,  my  gift, 
Quit  Rome  and  qualify  for  Arezzo,  take 
The  tone  o'  the  new  sphere  that  absorbed  the  old, 
Put  away  gossip  Jack  and  goody  Joan 
And  go  become  familiar  with  the  Great, 
Greatness  to  touch  and  taste  and  handle  now,  — 
Why,  then,  —  they  found  that  all  was  vanity, 
Vexation,  and  what  Solomon  describes  ! 
The  old  abundant  city-fare  was  best. 
The  kindly  warmth  o'  the  commons,  the  glad  clap 
Of  the  equal  on  the  shoulder,  the  frank  grin 
Of  the  underling  at  all  so  many  spoons 
Fire-new  at  neighborly  treat,  —  best,  best  and  best 
Beyond  compare  !  —  down  to  the  loll  itself 
O'  the  pot-house  settle,  —  better  such  a  bench 
Than  the  stiff  crucifixion  by  my  dais 
Under  the  piecemeal  damask  canopy 
With  the  coroneted  coat-of-arms  a-top ! 
Poverty  and  privation  for  pride's  sake, 
AU  they  engaged  to  easily  brave  and  bear,  — 
With  the  fit  upon  them  and  their  brains  a-work,  — 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  155 

Proved  unendurable  to  the  sobered  sots. 

A  banished  prince,  now,  will  exude  a  juice 

And  salamander-like  support  the  flame  : 

He  dines  on  chestnuts,  chucks  the  husks  to  help 

The  broil  o'  the  brazier,  pays  the  due  baioc. 

Goes  ofE  light-hearted  :  his  grimace  begins 

At  the  funny  humors  of  the  christening-feast 

Of  friend  the  money-lender,  —  then  he  's  touched 

By  the  flame  and  frizzles  at  the  babe  to  kiss  ! 

Here  was  the  converse  trial,  opposite  mind : 

Here  did  a  petty  nature  split  on  rock 

Of  vulgar  wants  predestinate  f  qt  such  — 

One  dish  at  supper  and  weak  wine  to  boot ! 

The  prince  had  grinned  and  borne :  the  citizen  shrieked, 

Summoned  the  neighborhood  to  attest  the  wrong. 

Made  noisy  protest  he  was  murdered,  —  stoned 

And  burned  and  drowned  and  hanged,  —  then  biJoke  away, 

He  and  his  wife,  to  tell  their  Rome  the  rest. 

And  this  you  admire,  you  men  o'  the  world,  my  lords  ? 

This  moves  compassion,  makes  you  doubt  my  faith  ? 

Why,  I  appeal  to  .  .  .  sun  and  moon  ?     Not  I ! 

Rather  to  Plautus,  Terence,  Boccaccio's  Book, 

My  townsman,  frank  Ser  Franco's  merry  Tales,  — 

To  all  who  strip  a  vizard  from  a  face, 

A  bod|i  from  its  padding,  and  a  soul 

From  froth  and  ignorance  it  styles  itself,  — 

If  this  be  other  than  the  daily  hap 

Of  purblind  greed  that  dog-like  still  drops  bone, 

Grasps  shadow,  and  then  howls  the  case  is  hard ! 

So  much  for  them  so  far  :  now  for  myself, 
My  profit  or  loss  i'  the  matter  :  married  am  I  : 
Text  whereon  friendly  censors  burst  to  preach. 
Ay,  at  Rome  even,  long  ere  I  was  left 
To  regulate  her  life  for  my  young  bride 
Alone  at  Arezzo,  friendliness  outbroke 
(Sifting  my  future  to  predict  its  fault) 
"  Purchase  and  sale  being  thus  so  plain  a  point, 
How  of  a  certain  soul  bound  up,  maybe, 
r  the  barter  with  the  body  and  money-bags  ? 
From  the  bride's  soul  what  is  it  you  expect  ?  " 
Why,  loyalty  and  obedience,  —  wish  and  will 
To  settle  and  suit  her  fresh  and  plastic  mind 
To  the  novel,  not  disadvantageous  mould ! 
Father  and  mother  shall  the  woman  leave, 
Cleave  to  the  husband,  be  it  for  weal  or  woe : 


156  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

There  is  the  law :  what  sets  this  law  aside 
In  my  particular  case  ?     My  friends  submit 
"  Guide,  guardian,  benefactor,  —  fee,  faw,  fum. 
The  fact  is  you  are  forty-five  years  old. 
Nor  very  comely  even  for  that  age  : 
Girls  must  have  boys."     Why,  let  girls  say  so  then, 
Nor  call  the  boys  and  men,  who  say  the  same. 
Brute  this  and  beast  the  other  as  they  do ! 
Come,  cards  on  table !     When  you  chant  us  next 
Epithalamium  fuU  to  overflow 
With  praise  and  glory  of  white  womanhood. 
The  chaste  and  pure  — "troll  no  such  lies  o'er  lip  ! 
Put  in  their  stead  a  crudity  or  two, 
Such  short  and  simple  statement  of  the  case 
As  youth  chalks  on  our  walls  at  spring  of  year  ! 
No  !  I  shall  still  think  nobler  of  the  sex. 
Believe  a  woman  still  may  take  a  man 
For  the  short  period  that  his  soul  wears  flesh. 
And,  for  the  soul's  sake,  understand  the  fault 
Of  armor  frayed  by  fighting.     Tush,  it  tempts 
One's  tongue  too  much !     I  'U  say  —  the  law  's  the  law : 
With  a  wife  I  look  to  find  all  wifeliness. 
As  when  I  buy,  timber  and  twig,  a  tree  — 
I  buy  the  song  o'  the  nightingale  inside. 

Such  was  the  pact :  Pompilia  from  the  first 

Broke  it,  refused  from  the  beginning  day 

Either  in  body  or  soul  to  cleave  to  mine. 

And  published  it  forthwith  to  all  the  world. 

No  rupture,  —  you  must  join  ere  you  can  break,  — 

Before  we  had  cohabited  a  month 

She  found  I  was  a  devil  and  no  man,  — 

Made  common  cause  with  those  who  found  as  macfa, 

Her  parents,  Pietro  and  Violante,  —  moved 

Heaven  and  earth  to  the  rescue  of  aU  three. 

In  four  months'  time,  the  time  o'  the  parents'  stay, 

Arezzo  was  a-ringing,  bells  in  a  blaze, 

With  the  unimaginable  story  rife 

I'  the  mouth  of  man,  woman  and  child  —  to  wit 

My  misdemeanor.     First  the  lighter  side, 

Ludicrous  face  of  things,  —  how  very  poor 

The  Franceschini  had  become  at  last. 

The  meanness  and  the  misery  of  each  shift 

To  save  a  soldo,  stretch  and  make  ends  meet. 

Next,  the  more  hateful  aspect,  —  how  myself 

With  cruelty  beyond  Caligula's 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  157 

Had  stripped  and  beaten,  robbed  and  murdered  them, 
The  good  old  couple,  I  decoyed,  abused, 
Plundered  and  then  cast  out,  and  happily  so. 
Since,  —  in  due  course  the  abominable  comes,  — 
Woe  worth  the  poor  young  wife  left  lonely  here  I 
Repugnant  in  my  person  as  my  mind, 
I  sought,  —  was  ever  heard  of  such  revenge  ? 
—  To  lure  and  bind  her  to  so  cursed  a  couch, 
Such  co-embrace  with  sulphur,  snake  and  toad. 
That  she  was  fain  to  rush  forth,  call  the  stones 
O'  the  common  street  to  save  her,  not  from  hate 
Of  mine  merely,  but  .   .  .  must  I  burn  my  lips 
With  the  blister  of  the  lie  ?  .  .  .  the  satyr-love 
Of  who  but  my  own  brother,  the  young  priest. 
Too  long  enforced  to  lenten  fare  belike. 
Now  tempted  by  the  morsel  tossed  him  full 
r  the  trencher  where  lay  bread  and  herbs  at  best. 
Mark,  this  yourselves  say  !  — this,  none  disallows, 
Was  charged  to  me  by  the  universal  voice 
At  the  instigation  of  my  four-months'  wife !  — 
And  then  you  ask,  "  Such  charges  so  preferred, 
(Truly  or  falsely,  here  concerns  us  not) 
Pricked  you  to  punish  now  if  not  before  ?  — 
Did  not  the  harshness  double  itself,  the  hate 
Harden  ?  "    I  answer,  "  Have  it  your  way  and  will  I " 
Say  my  resentment  grew  apace :  what  then  ? 
Do  you  cry  out  on  the  marvel  ?     When  I  find 
That  pure  smooth  egg  which,  laid  within  my  nest. 
Could  not  but  hatch  a  comfort  to  us  all. 
Issues  a  cockatrice  for  me  and  mine. 
Do  you  stare  to  see  me  stamp  on  it  ?     Swans  are  soft : 
Is  it  not  clear  that  she  you  call  my  wife. 
That  any  wife  of  any  husband,  caught 
Whetting  a  sting  like  this  against  his  breast,  — 
Speckled  with  fragments  of  the  fresh-broke  shell, 
Married  a  month  and  making  outcry  thus,  — 
Proves  a  plague-prodigy  to  God  and  man  ? 
She  married  :  what  was  it  she  married  for. 
Counted  upon  and  meant  to  meet  thereby  ? 
"  Love,"  suggests  some  one,  "  love,  a  little  word 
Whereof  we  have  not  heard  one  syllable." 
So,  the  Pompilia,  chUd,  girl,  wife,  in  one. 
Wanted  the  beating  pulse,  the  rolling  eye, 
The  frantic  gesture,  the  devotion  due 
From  Thyrsis  to  Neaera !     Guido's  love  — 
Why  not  Provengal  roses  in  his  shoe, 


158  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Plume  to  his  cap,  and  trio  of  guitars 
At  casement,  with  a  bravo  close  beside  ? 
Good  things  all  these  are,  clearly  claimable 
When  the  fit  price  is  paid  the  proper  way. 
Had  it  been  some  friend's  wife,  now,  threw  her  fan 
At  my  foot,  with  just  this  pretty  scrap  attached, 
*'  Shame,  death,  damnation  —  fall  these  as  they  may, 
So  I  find  you,  for  a  minute  !     Come  this  eve !  " 
—  Why,  at  such  sweet  self-sacrifice,  —  who  knows  ? 
I  might  have  fired  up,  found  me  at  my  post, 
Ardent  from  head  to  heel,  nor  feared  catch  cough. 
Nay,  had  some  other  friend's  .  .  .  say,  daughter,  tripped 
Upstairs  and  tumbled  flat  and  frank  on  me, 
Bareheaded  and  barefooted,  with  loose  hair 
And  garments  all  at  large,  —  cried  "  Take  me  thus  ! 
Duke  So-and-So,  the  greatest  man  in  Rome  — 
To  escape  his  hand  and  heart  have  I  broke  bounds, 
Traversed  the  town  and  reached  you  !  "  —  Then,  indeed, 
The  lady  had  not  reached  a  man  of  ice  ! 
I  would  have  rummaged,  ransacked  at  the  word 
Those  old  odd  corners  of  an  empty  heart 
For  remnants  of  dim  love  the  long  disused, 
And  dusty  crmnblings  of  romance !     But  here, 
We  talk  of  just  a  marriage,  if  you  please  — 
The  every-day  conditions  and  no  more ; 
Where  do  these  bind  me  to  bestow  one  drop 
Of  blood  shall  dye  my  wife's  true-love-knot  pink  ? 
Pompilia  was  no  pigeon,  Venus'  pet, 
That  shuffled  from  between  her  pressing  paps 
To  sit  on  my  rough  shoulder,  —  but  a  hawk, 
I  bought  at  a  hawk's  price  and  carried  home 
To  do  hawk's  service  —  at  the  Rotunda,  say. 
Where,  six  o'  the  callow  nestlings  in  a  row, 
You  pick  and  choose  and  pay  the  price  for  such. 
1  have  paid  my  pound,  await  my  penny's  worth, 
So,  hoodwink,  starve  and  properly  train  my  bird, 
And,  should  she  prove  a  haggard,  —  twist  her  neck ! 
Did  I  not  pay  my  name  and  style,  my  hope 
And  trust,  my  all  ?     Through  spending  these  amiss 
I  am  here  !     'T  is  scarce  the  gravity  of  the  Court 
Will  blame  me  that  I  never  piped  a  tune, 
Treated  my  falcon-gentle  like  my  finch. 
The  obligation  I  incurred  was  just 
To  practise  mastery,  prove  my  mastership :  — 
Pompilia's  duty  was  —  submit  herself, 
Afford  me  pleasure,  perhaps  cure  my  bile. 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  159 

Am  I  to  teach  my  lords  what  marriage  means, 

What  God  ordains  thereby  and  man  fulfils 

Who,  docile  to  the  dictate,  treads  the  house  ? 

My  lords  have  chosen  the  happier  part  with  Paul 

And  neither  marry  nor  burn,  —  yet  priestliness 

Can  find  a  parallel  to  the  marriage-bond 

In  its  own  blessed  special  ordinance 

Whereof  indeed  was  marriage  made  the  type : 

The  Church  may  show  her  insubordinate, 

As  marriage  her  refractory.     How  of  the  Monk 

Who  finds  the  claustral  regimen  too  sharp 

After  the'  first  month's  essay  ?     What 's  the  mode 

With  the  Deacon  who  supports  indifferently 

The  rod  o'  the  Bishop  when  he  tastes  its  smart 

Full  four  weeks  ?     Do  you  straightway  slacken  hold 

Of  the  innocents,  the  all-unwary  ones 

Who,  eager  to  profess,  mistook  their  mind  ?  — 

Remit  a  fast-day's  rigor  to  the  Monk 

Who  fancied  Francis'  manna  meant  roast  quails,  — 

Concede  the  Deacon  sweet  society. 

He  never  thought  the  Levite-rule  renounced,  — 

Or  rather  prescribe  short  chain  and  sharp  scourge 

Corrective  of  such  peccant  humors  ?     This  — 

I  take  to  be  the  Church's  mode,  and  mine. 

If  I  was  over-harsh,  —  the  worse  i'  the  wife 

Who  did  not  win  from  harshness  as  she  ought, 

Wanted  the  patience  and  persuasion,  lore 

Of  love,  should  cure  me  and  console  herself. 

Put  case  that  I  mishandle,  flurry  and  fright 

My  hawk  through  clumsiness  in  sportsmanship. 

Twitch  out  five  pens  where  plucking  one  would  serve  — » 

What,  shall  she  bite  and  claw  to  mend  the  case  ? 

And,  if  you  find  I  pluck  five  more  for  that, 

Shall  you  weep  "  How  he  roughs  the  turtle  there  "  ? 

Such  was  the  starting ;  now  of  the  further  step. 

In  lieu  of  taking  penance  in  good  part. 

The  Monk,  with  hue  and  cry,  summons  a  mob 

To  make  a  bonfire  of  the  convent,  say,  — 

And  the  Deacon's  pretty  piece  of  virtue  (save 

The  ears  o'  the  Court !     I  try  to  save  my  head) 

Instructed  by  the  ingenuous  postulant. 

Taxes  the  Bishop  with  adultery,  (mud 

Needs  must  pair  off  with  mud,  and  filth  with  filth)  — 

Such  being  my  next  experience.  Who  knows  not  — 

The  couple,  father  and  mother  of  my  wife, 


160  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Returned  to  Rome,  published  before  my  lords, 
Put  into  print,  made  circulate  far  and  wide 
That  they  had  cheated  me  who  cheated  them  ? 
Pompilia,  I  supposed  their  daughter,  drew 
Breath  first  'mid  Rome's  worst  rankness,  through  the  deed 
Of  a  drab  and  a  rogue,  was  by-blow  bastard-babe 
Of  a  nameless  strumpet,  passed  off,  palmed  on  me 
As  the  daughter  with  the  dowry.     Daughter  ?     Dirt 
O'  the  kennel !    Dowry  ?     Dust  o'  the  street !     Nought  more 
Nought  less,  nought  else  but  —  oh  —  ah  —  assuredly 
A  Franceschini  and  my  very  wife  ! 
Now  take  this  charge  as  you  will,  for  false  or  true,  — 
This  charge,  preferred  before  your  very  selves 
Who  judge  me  now,  —  I  pray  you,  adjudge  again, 
Classing  it  with  the  cheats  or  with  the  lies. 
By  which  category  I  suffer  most ! 
But  of  their  reckoning,  theirs  who  dealt  with  me 
In  either  fashion,  —  I  reserve  my  word. 
Justify  that  in  its  place  ;  I  am  now  to  say, 
Whichever  point  o'  the  charge  might  poison  most, 
Pompilia's  duty  was  no  doubtful  one. 
You  put  the  protestation  in  her  mouth, 
•*  Henceforward  and  f orevermore,  avaunt 
Ye  fiends,  who  drop  disguise  and  glare  revealed 
In  your  own  shape,  no  longer  father  mine 
Nor  mother  mine  !     Too  nakedly  you  hate 
Me  whom  you  looked  as  if  you  loved  once,  —  me 
Whom,  whether  true  or  false,  your  tale  now  damns. 
Divulged  thus  to  my  public  infamy. 
Private  perdition,  absolute  overthrow. 
For,  hate  my  husband  to  your  hearts'  content, 
I,  spoil  and  prey  of  you  from  first  to  last, 
I  who  have  done  you  the  bhnd  service,  lured 
The  lion  to  your  pitfall,  —  I,  thus  left 
To  answer  for  my  ignorant  bleating  there, 
I  should  have  been  remembered  and  withdrawn 
From  the  first  o'  the  natural  fury,  not  flung  loose 
A  proverb  and  a  byword  men  will  mouth 
At  the  cross-way,  in  the  corner,  up  and  down 
Rome  and  Arezzo,  —  there,  full  in  my  face. 
If  my  lord,  missing  them  and  finding  me. 
Content  himself  with  casting  his  reproach 
To  drop  i'  the  street  where  such  impostors  die. 
Ah,  but  —  that  husband,  what  the  wonder  were !  — 
If,  far  from  casting  thus  away  the  rao- 
Smeared  with  the  plague,  his  hand  had  chanced  upon, 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  161 

Sewn  to  his  pillow  by  Locusta's  wile,  — 

Far  from  abolishing,  root,  stem  and  branch, 

The  misgrowth  of  infectious  mistletoe 

Foisted  into  his  stock  for  honest  graft,  — 

If  he  repudiate  not,  renounce  nowise, 

But,  guarding,  guiding  me,  maintain  my  cause 

By  making  it  his  own,  (what  other  way  ?) 

— To  keep  my  name  for  me,  he  call  it  his, 

Claim  it  of  who  would  take  it  by  their  lie,  — 

To  save  my  wealth  for  me  —  or  babe  of  mine 

Their  he  was  framed  to  beggar  at  the  birth — 

He  bid  them  loose  grasp,  give  our  gold  again : 

If  he  become  no  partner  with  the  pair 

Even  in  a  game  which,  played  adroitly,  gives 

Its  winner  life's  great  wonderful  new  chance,  — 

Of  marrying,  to  wit,  a  second  time,  — 

Ah,  if  he  did  thus,  what  a  friend  were  he  ! 

Anger  he  might  show,  —  who  can  stamp  out  flame 

Yet  spread  no  black  o'  the  brand  ?  —  yet,  rough  albeit 

In  the  act,  as  whose  bare  feet  feel  embers  scorch, 

What  grace  were  his,  what  gratitude  were  mine  !  " 

Such  protestation  should  have  been  my  wife's. 

Looking  for  this,  do  I  exact  too  much  ? 

Why,  here  's  the  —  word  for  word  so  much,  no  more  — 

Avowal  she  made,  her  pure  spontaneous  speech 

To  my  brother  the  Abate  at  first  blush. 

Ere  the  good  impulse  had  begun  to  fade : 

So  did  she  make  confession  for  the  pair. 

So  pour  forth  praises  in  her  own  behalf. 

"  Ay,  the  false  letter,"  interpose  my  lords  — 

"  The  simulated  writing,  —  't  was  a  trick : 
You  traced  the  signs,  she  merely  marked  the  same, 
The  product  was  not  hers  but  yours."     Alack, 
I  want  no  more  impulsion  to  teU  truth 
From  the  other  trick,  the  torture  inside  there ! 
I  confess  all  —  let  it  be  understood  — 
And  deny  nothing  !     If  I  baflSe  you  so, 
Can  so  fence,  in  the  plenitude  of  right, 
That  my  poor  lathen  dagger  puts  aside 
Each  pass  o'  the  Bilboa,  beats  you  aU  the  same,  — 
What  matters  inefficiency  of  blade  ? 
Mine  and  not  hers  the  letter,  — conceded,  lords  I 
Impute  to  me  that  practice  !  —  take  as  proved 
I  taught  my  wife  her  duty,  made  her  see 
What  it  behoved  her  see  and  say  and  do, 
Feel  in  her  heart  and  with  her  tongue  declare. 


162  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And,  whether  sluggish  or  recalcitrant, 

Forced  her  to  take  the  right  step,  I  myself 

Was  marching  in  marital  rectitude  ! 

Why,  who  finds  fault  here,  say  the  tale  be  true  ? 

Would  not  my  lords  commend  the  priest  whose  zeal 

Seized  on  the  sick,  morose  or  moribund, 

By  the  palsy-smitten  finger,  made  it  cross 

His  brow  correctly  at  the  critical  time  ? 

—  Or  answered  for  the  inarticulate  babe 

At  baptism,  in  its  stead  declared  the  faith, 

And  saved  what  else  would  perish  unprofessed  ? 

True,  the  incapable  hand  may  rally  yet. 

Renounce  the  sign  with  renovated  strength,  — 

The  babe  may  grow  up  man  and  Molinist,  — r 

And  so  PompUia,  set  in  the  good  path 

And  left  to  go  alone  there,  soon  might  see 

That  too  frank-forward,  all  too  simple-strait 

Her  step  was,  and  decline  to  tread  the  rough, 

When  here  lay,  tempting  foot,  the  meadow-side, 

And  there  the  coppice  rang  with  singing-birds ! 

Soon  she  discovered  she  was  young  and  fair, 

That  many  in  Arezzo  knew  as  much,  — 

Yes,  this  next  cup  of  bitterness,  my  lords, 

Had  to  begin  go  filling,  drop  by  drop. 

Its  measure  up  of  full  disgust  for  me. 

Filtered  into  by  every  noisome  drain  — 

Society's  sink  toward  which  all  moisture  runs. 

Would  not  you  prophesy  —  "  She  on  whose  brow  is  stamped 

The  note  of  the  imputation  that  we  know,  — 

Rightly  or  wrongly  mothered  with  a  whore,  — 

Such  an  one,  to  disprove  the  frightful  charge. 

What  will  she  but  exaggerate  chastity. 

Err  in  excess  of  wifehood,  as  it  were. 

Renounce  even  levities  permitted  youth, 

Though  not  youth  struck  to  age  by  a  thunderbolt  ? 

Cry  '  wolf '  i'  the  sheepfold,  where 's  the  sheep  dares  bleat, 

Knowing  the  shepherd  listens  for  a  growl  ?  " 

So  you  expect.     How  did  the  devil  decree  ? 

Why,  my  lords,  just  the  contrary  of  course  ! 

It  was  in  the  house  from  the  window,  at  the  church 

From  the  hassock,  —  where  the  theatre  lent  its  lodge, 

Or  staging  for  the  public  show  left  space,  — 

That  still  Pompilia  needs  must  find  herself 

Launching  her  looks  forth,  letting  looks  reply 

As  arrows  to  a  challenge ;  on  all  sides 

Ever  new  contribution  to  her  lap, 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  163 

Till  one  day,  what  is  it  knocks  at  my  clenched  teeth 

But  the  cup  full,  curse-collected  all  for  me  ? 

And  I  must  needs  drink,  drmk  this  gallant's  praise. 

That  minion's  prayer,  the  other  fop's  reproach, 

And  come  at  the  dregs  to  —  Caponsacchi !     Sirs, 

I,  —  chin  deep  in  a  marsh  of  misery, 

Struggling  to  extricate  my  name  and  fame 

And  fortune  from  the  marsh  would  drown  them  all, 

My  face  the  sole  unstrangled  part  of  me,  — 

I  must  have  this  new  gad-fly  in  that  face. 

Must  free  me  from  the  attacking  lover  too  ! 

Men  say  I  battled  ungracefully  enough  — 

Was  harsh,  uncouth  and  ludicrous  beyond 

The  proper  part  o'  the  husband :  have  it  so  ! 

Your  lordships  are  considerate  at  least  — 

You  order  me  to  speak  in  my  defence 

Plainly,  expect  no  quavering  tuneful  trills 

As  when  you  bid  a  singer  solace  you,  — 

Nor  look  that  I  shall  give  it,  for  a  grace. 

Starts  pede  in  uno  :  —  you  remember  well 

In  the  one  case,  't  is  a  plainsong  too  severe. 

This  story  of  my  wrongs,  —  and  that  I  ache 

And  need  a  chair,  in  the  other.     Ask  you  me 

Why,  when  I  felt  this  trouble  flap  my  face, 

Already  pricked  with  every  shame  could  perch,  — 

When,  with  her  parents,  my  wife  plagued  me  too,  -^ 

Why  I  enforced  not  exhortation  mild 

To  leave  whore's-tricks  and  let  my  brows  alone. 

With  mulct  of  comfits,  promise  of  perfume  ? 

"  Far  from  that !     No,  you  took  the  opposite  course, 
Breathed  threatenings,  rage  and  slaughter  !  "    What  you  will! 
And  the  end  has  come,  the  doom  is  verily  here, 
Unhindered  by  the  threatening.     See  fate's  flare 
Full  on  each  face  of  the  dead  guilty  three ! 
Look  at  them  well,  and  now,  lords,  look  at  this ! 
Tell  me  :  if  on  that  day  when  I  found  first 
That  Caponsacchi  thought  the  nearest  way 
To  his  church  was  some  half-mile  round  hy  my  door, 
And  that  he  so  admired,  shall  I  suppose, 
The  manner  of  the  swallows'  come-and-go 
Between  the  props  o'  the  window  overhead,  — 
That  window  happening  to  be  my  wife's,  — 
As  to  stand  gazing  by  the  hour  on  high. 
Of  May-eves,  while  she  sat  and  let  him  smile,  — 
If  I,  — instead  of  threatening,  talking  big, 


164  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Showing  hair-powder,  a  prodigious  pinch, 

For  poison  in  a  bottle,  —  making  believe 

At  desperate  doings  with  a  bauble-sword, 

And  other  bugaboo-and-baby-work,  — 

Had,  with  the  vulgarest  household  implement, 

Calmly  and  quietly  cut  ofE,  clean  through  bone, 

But  one  joint  of  one  finger  of  my  wife, 

Sajring,  "  For  listening  to  the  serenade, 

Here 's  your  ring-finger  shorter  a  f uU  third : 

Be  certain  I  wUl  slice  away  next  joint, 

Next  time  that  anybody  underneath 

Seems  somehow  to  be  sauntering  as  he  hoped 

A  flower  would  eddy  out  of  your  hand  to  his. 

While  you  please  fidget  with  the  branch  above 

O'  the  rose-tree  in  the  terrace  !  "  —  had  I  done  so. 

Why,  there  had  followed  a  quick  sharp  scream,  some  pain, 

Much  calling  for  plaister,  damage  to  the  dress, 

A  somewhat  sulky  countenance  next  day, 

Perhaps  reproaches,  —  but  reflections  too  ! 

I  don't  hear  much  of  harm  that  Malchus  did 

After  the  incident  of  the  ear,  my  lords  ! 

Saint  Peter  took  the  efficacious  way ; 

Malchus  was  sore  but  silenced  for  his  life  : 

He  did  not  hang  himseK  i'  the  Potter's  Field 

Like  Judas,  who  was  trusted  with  the  bag 

And  treated  to  sops  after  he  proved  a  thief. 

So,  by  this  time,  my  true  and  obedient  wife 

Might  have  been  telling  beads  with  a  gloved  hand  % 

Awkward  a  little  at  pricking  hearts  and  darts 

On  sampler  possibly,  but  well  otherwise  : 

Not  where  Rome  shudders  now  to  see  her  lie. 

I  give  that  for  the  course  a  wise  man  takes  ; 

I  took  the  other  however,  tried  the  fool's, 

The  lighter  remedy,  brandished  rapier  dread 

With  cork-ball  at  the  tip,  boxed  Malchus'  ear 

Instead  of  severing  the  cartilage. 

Called  her  a  terrible  nickname,  and  the  like, 

And  there  an  end :  and  what  was  the  end  of  that  ? 

What  was  the  good  efEect  o'  the  gentle  course  ? 

Why,  one  night  I  went  drowsily  to  bed, 

Dropped  asleep  suddenly,  not  suddenly  woke. 

But  did  wake  with  rough  rousing  and  loud  cry, 

To  find  noon  in  my  face,  a  crowd  in  my  room. 

Fumes  in  my  brain,  fire  in  my  throat,  my  wife 

Gone  God  knows  whither,  —  rifled  vesture-chest. 

And  ransacked  money-coffer.     "  What  does  it  mean  ?  " 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  165 

The  servants  had  heen  drugged  too,  stared  and  yawned 
"  It  must  be  that  our  lady  has  eloped !  " 

—  "  Whither  and  with  whom  ? "  —  «  With  whom  but   the 

Canon's  self  ? 
One  recognizes  Caponsacchi  there  !  "  — 
(By  this  time  the  admiring  neighborhood 
Joined  chorus  round  me  while  I  rubbed  my  eyes) 
"  'T  is  months  since  their  intelligence  began,  — 
A  comedy  the  town  was  privy  to,  — 
He  wrote  and  she  wrote,  she  spoke,  he  replied, 
And  going  in  and  out  your  house  last  night 
Was  easy  work  for  one  ...  to  be  plain  with  you  .  .  . 
Accustomed  to  do  both,  at  dusk  and  dawn 
When  you  were  absent,  —  at  the  vUla,  you  know. 
Where  husbandry  required  the  master-mind. 
Did  not  you  know  ?     Why,  we  all  knew,  you  see  !  " 
And  presently,  bit  by  bit,  the  full  and  true 
Particulars  of  the  tale  were  volunteered 
With  all  the  breathless  zeal  of  friendship  —  "  Thus 
Matters  were  managed  :  at  the  seventh  hour  of  night "  .  .  c 

—  "  Later,  at  daybreak  "  .  .  .  "  Caponsacchi  came  "... 

—  "  While  you  and  all  your  household  slept  like  death. 
Drugged  as  your  supper  was  with  drowsy  stuff  "... 

—  "  And  your  own  cousin  Guillichini  too  — 
Either  or  both  entered  your  dwelling-place. 
Plundered  it  at  their  pleasure,  made  prize  of  all. 
Including  your  wife  "  .  .  .  —  "  Oh,  your  wife  led  the  way, 
Out  of  doors,  on  to  the  gate  "...  —  "  But  gates  are  shut, 
In  a  decent  town,  to  darkness  and  such  deeds  : 

They  climbed  the  wall  —  your  lady  must  be  lithe  — 

At  the  gap,  the  broken  bit "...  —  "  Torrione,  true  ! 

To  escape  the  questioning  guard  at  the  proper  gate, 

Clemente,  where  at  the  inn,  hard  by,  '  the  Horse,' 

Just  outside,  a  calash  in  readiness 

Took  the  two  principals,  all  alone  at  last. 

To  gate  San  Spirito,  which  o'erlooks  the  road, 

Leads  to  Perugia,  Rome  and  liberty." 

Bit  by  bit  thus  made-up  mosaic-wise. 

Flat  lay  my  fortune,  —  tessellated  floor. 

Imperishable  tracery  devils  should  foot 

And  frolic  it  on,  around  my  broken  gods, 

Over  my  desecrated  hearth. 

So  much 
For  the  terrible  effect  of  threatening,  Sirs ! 

Well,  this  way  I  was  shaken  wide  awake. 
Doctored  and  drenched,  somewhat  unpoisoned  so. 


166  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Then,  set  on  horseback  and  bid  seek  the  lost, 

I  started  alone,  head  of  me,  heart  of  me 

Fire,  and  each  limb  as  languid  .   .  .  ah,  sweet  lords, 

Bethink  you  !  —  poison-torture,  try  persuade 

The  next  refractory  MoUnist  with  that !  .  .  . 

Floundered  through  day  and  night,  another  day 

And  yet  another  night,  and  so  at  last. 

As  Lucifer  kept  falling  to  find  hell. 

Tumbled  into  the  court-yard  of  an  inn 

At  the  end,  and  feU  on  whom  I  thought  to  find, 

Even  Caponsacchi,  —  what  part  once  was  priest, 

Cast  to  the  winds  now  with  the  cassock-rags : 

In  cape  and  sword  a  cavalier  confessed, 

There  stood  he  chiding  dilatory  grooms, 

Chafing  that  only  horseflesh  and  no  team 

Of  eagles  would  supply  the  last  relay. 

Whirl  him  along  the  league,  the  one  post  more 

Between  the  couple  and  Rome  and  liberty. 

'T  was  dawn,  the  couple  were  rested  in  a  sort. 

And  though  the  lady,  tired,  —  the  tenderer  sex,  — 

StUl  fingered  in  her  chamber,  —  to  adjust 

The  limp  hair,  look  for  any  blush  astray,  — 

She  would  descend  in  a  twinkling,  —  "  Have  you  out 

The  horses  therefore  !  " 

So  did  I  find  my  wife. 
Is  the  case  complete  ?     Do  your  eyes  here  see  with  mine  i 
Even  the  parties  dared  deny  no  one 
Point  out  of  aU  these  points. 

What  follows  next  ? 

"  Why,  that  then  was  the  time,"  you  interpose, 

"  Or  then  or  never,  while  the  fact  was  fresh. 
To  take  the  natural  vengeance :  there  and  thus 
They  and  yon,  —  somebody  had  stuck  a  sword 
Beside  you  while  he  pushed  you  on  your  horse,  — 
'T  was  requisite  to  slay  the  couple.  Count !  " 
Just  so  my  friends  say  —  "  Kill  !  "  they  cry  in  a  breath, 
Who  presently,  when  matters  grow  to  a  head 
And  I  do  kill  the  offending  ones  indeed,  — 
When  crime  of  theirs,  only  surmised  before, 
Is  patent,  proved  indisputably  now,  — 
When  remedy  for  wrong,  untried  at  the  time, 
Which  law  professes  shaJl  not  fail  a  friend. 
Is  thrice  tried  now,  found  threefold  worse  than  null,  — 
When  what  might  turn  to  transient  shade,  who  knows  ? 
Solidifies  into  a  blot  which  breaks 
Hell's  black  off  in  pale  flakes  for  fear  of  mine,  — 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  167 

Then,  when  I  claim  and  take  revenge  —  "  So  rash  ?  " 
They  cry  —  "  so  little  reverence  for  the  law  ?  " 

Listen,  my  masters,  and  distinguish  here  ! 
At  first,  I  caUed  in  law  to  act  and  help  : 
Seeing  I  did  so,  "  Why,  't  is  clear,"  they  cry, 
''  You  shrank  from  gallant  readiness  and  risk. 
Were  coward  :  the  thing 's  inexplicable  else." 
Sweet  my  lords,  let  the  thing  be !    I  fall  flat, 
Play  the  reed,  not  the  oak,  to  breath  of  man. 
Only,  inform  my  ignorance  !     Say  I  stand 
Convicted  of  the  having  been  afraid. 
Proved  a  poltroon,  no  lion  but  a  lamb,  — 
Does  that  deprive  me  of  my  right  of  lamb 
And  give  my  fleece  and  flesh  to  the  first  wolf  ? 
Are  eunuchs,  women,  children,  shieldless  quite 
Against  attack  their  own  timidity  tempts  ? 
Cowardice  were  misfortune  and  no  crime ! 

—  Take  it  that  way,  since  I  am  fallen  so  low 
I  scarce  dare  brush  the  fly  that  blows  my  face. 
And  thank  the  man  who  simply  spits  not  there,  — 
Unless  the  Court  be  generous,  comprehend 

How  one  brought  up  at  the  very  feet  of  law 

As  I,  awaits  the  grave  Gamaliel's  nod 

Ere  he  clench  fist  at  outrage,  —  much  less,  stab ! 

—  How,  ready  enough  to  rise  at  the  right  time, 
I  still  could  recognize  no  time  mature 
Unsanctioned  by  a  move  o'  the  judgment-seat, 
So,  mute  in  misery,  eyed  my  masters  here 
Motionless  till  the  authoritative  word 
Pronounced  amercement.     There 's  the  riddle  solved  : 
This  is  just  why  I  slew  nor  her  nor  him. 

But  called  in  law,  law's  delegate  in  the  place, 

And  bade  arrest  the  guilty  couple,  Sirs  ! 

We  had  some  trouble  to  do  so  —  you  have  heard 

They  braved  me,  —  he  with  arrogance  and  scorn, 

She,  vdth  a  volubility  of  curse, 

A  conversancy  in  the  skill  of  tooth 

And  claw  to  make  suspicion  seem  absurd. 

Nay,  an  alacrity  to  put  to  proof 

At  my  own  throat  my  own  sword,  teach  me  so 

To  try  conclusions  better  the  next  time,  — 

Which  did  the  proper  service  with  the  mob. 

They  never  tried  to  put  on  mask  at  aU  : 

Two  avowed  lovers  forcibly  torn  apart, 

Upbraid  the  tyrant  as  in  a  playhouse  scene, 


168        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Ay,  and  with  proper  clapping  and  applause 

From  the  audience  that  enjoys  the  bold  and  free. 

I  kept  still,  said  to  nnyself,  "  There 's  law  !  "     Anon 

We  searched  the  chamber  where  they  passed  the  night, 

Found  what  confirmed  the  worst  was  feared  before. 

However  needless  confirmation  now  — 

The  witches'  circle  intact,  charms  undisturbed 

That  raised  the  spirit  and  succubus,  —  letters,  to  wit, 

Love-laden,  each  the  bag  o'  the  bee  that  bore 

Honey  from  lily  and  rose  to  Cupid's  hive,  — 

Now,  poetry  in  some  rank  blossom-burst. 

Now,  prose,  —  "  Come  here,  go  there,  wait  such  a  while. 

He  's  at  the  vUla,  now  he  's  back  again  : 

We  are  saved,  we  are  lost,  we  are  lovers  all  the  same  !  " 

All  in  order,  all  complete,  —  even  to  a  clue 

To  the  drowsiness  that  happed  so  opportune  — 

No  mystery,  when  I  read,  "  Of  all  things,  find 

What  wine  Sir  Jealousy  decides  to  drink  — 

Red  wine  ?     Because  a  sleeping-potion,  dust 

Dropped  into  white,  discolors  wine  and  shows." 

—  "  Oh,  but  we  did  not  write  a  single  word  ! 
,     Somebody  forged  the  letters  in  our  name  !  —  " 
Both  in  a  breath  protested  presently. 
Aha,  Sacchetti  again  !  —  "  Dame,"  —  quoth  the  Doke, 

"  What  meaneth  this  epistle,  counsel  me, 
I  pick  from  out  thy  placket  and  peruse, 
Wherein  my  page  averreth  thou  art  white 
And  warm  and  wonderful  'twist  pap  and  pap  ?  " 

" Sir,"  laughed  the  Lady,  "'tis  a  coimterfeit  ! 
Thy  page  did  never  stroke  but  Dian's  breast, 
The  pretty  hound  I  nurture  for  thy  sake  : 
To  lie  were  losel,  —  by  my  fay,  no  more  !  " 
And  no  more  say  I  too,  and  spare  the  Court. 

Ah,  the  Court !  yes,  I  come  to  the  Court's  self ; 

Such  the  case,  so  complete  in  fact  and  proof, 

I  laid  at  the  feet  o'f  law,  —  there  sat  my  lords, 

Here  sit  they  now,  so  may  they  ever  sit 

In  easier  attitude  than  suits  my  haunch ! 

In  this  same  chamber  did  I  bare  my  sores 

O'  the  soul  and  not  the  body,  —  shun  no  shame, 

Shrink  from  no  probing  of  the  ulcerous  part, 

Since  confident  in  Nature,  —  which  is  God,  — 

That  she  who,  for  wise  ends,  concocts  a  plague. 

Curbs,  at  the  right  time,  the  plague's  virulence  too  : 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINl  169 

Law  renovates  even  Lazarus,  —  cures  me  ! 
Caesar  thou  seekest  ?     To  Caesar  thou  shalt  go  ! 
Caesar 's  at  Borne :  to  Rome  accordingly  ! 

The  case  was  soon  decided  :  both  weights,  cast 

r  the  balance,  vibrate,  neither  kicks  the  beam, 

Here  away,  there  away,  this  now  and  now  that. 

To  every  one  o'  my  grievances  law  gave 

Redress,  could  purblind  eye  but  see  the  point. 

The  wife  stood  a  convicted  runagate 

From  house  and  husband,  —  driven  to  such  a  course 

By  what  she  somehow  took  for  cruelty, 

Oppression  and  imperilment  of  life  — ■ 

Not  that  such  things  were,  but  that  so  they  seemed  : 

Therefore,  the  end  conceded  lawful,  (since 

To  save  life  there  's  no  risk  should  stay  our  leap) 

It  follows  that  aU  means  to  the  lawful  end 

Are  lawful  likewise,  —  poison,  theft  and  flight. 

As  for  the  priest's  part,  did  he  meddle  or  make, 

Enough  that  he  too  thought  hfe  jeopardized ; 

Concede  him  then  the  color  charity 

Casts  on  a  doubtful  course,  —  if  blackish  white 

Or  whitish  black,  wUI  charity  hesitate  ? 

What  did  he  else  but  act  the  precept  out, 

Leave,  like  a  provident  shepherd,  his  safe  flock 

To  follow  the  single  lamb  and  strayaway  ? 

Best  hope  so  and  think  so,  —  that  the  ticklish  time 

I'  the  carriage,  the  tempting  privacy,  the  last 

Somewhat  ambiguous  accident  at  the  inn, 

—  All  may  bear  explanation  :  may  ?  then,  must  ! 
The  letters,  —  do  they  so  incriminate  ? 

But  what  if  the  whole  prove  a  prank  o'  the  pen, 
Flight  of  the  fancy,  none  of  theirs  at  all, 
Bred  of  the  vapors  of  my  brain  belike, 
Or  at  worst  mere  exercise  of  scholar's-wit 
In  the  courtly  Caponsacchi :  verse,  convict  ? 
Did  not  Catullus  write  less  seemly  once  ? 
Yet  doetus  and  unblemished  he  abides. 
Wherefore  so  ready  to  infer  the  worst  ? 
Still,  I  did  righteously  in  bringing  doubts 
For  the  law  to  solve,  —  take  the  solution  now  ! 
"  Seeing  that  the  said  associates,  wife  and  priest, 
Bear  themselves  not  without  some  touch  of  blame 

—  Else  why  the  pother,  scandal  and  outcry 
Which  trouble  our  peace  and  require  chastisement  ? 
We,  for  complicity  in  Fompilia's  flight 


170  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  deviation,  and  carnal  intercourse 
With  the  same,  do  set  aside  and  relegate 
The  Canon  Caponsacchi  for  three  years 
At  Civita  in  the  neighborhood  of  Gome  : 
And  we  consign  PompUia  to  the  care 
Of  a  certain  Sisterhood  of  penitents 
I'  the  city's  self,  expert  to  deal  with  such." 
Word  for  word,  there 's  your  judgment !     Head  it,  lords, 
Re-utter  your  deliberate  penalty 
For  the  crime  yourselves  establish !     Your  award  — 
Who  chop  a  man's  right-hand  off  at  the  wrist 
For  tracing  with  forefinger  words  in  wine 
O'  the  table  of  a  drinking-booth  that  bear 
Interpretation  as  they  mocked  the  Church ! 
—  Who  brand  a  woman  black  between  the  breasts 
For  sinning  by  connection  with  a  Jew : 
While  for  the  Jew's  self  —  pudency  be  dumb  !  — 
You  mete  out  punishment  such  and  such,  yet  so 
Punish  the  adultery  of  wife  and  priest ! 
Take  note  of  that,  before  the  Molinists  do, 
And  read  me  right  the  riddle,  since  right  must  be  ! 
WhUe  I  stood  rapt  away  with  wonderment, 
Voices  broke  in  upon  my  mood  and  muse. 
"  Do  you  sleep  ?  "  began  the  friends  at  either  ear, 
"  The  case  is  settled,  —  you  willed  it  should  be  so  — 
None  of  our  counsel,  always  recollect ! 
With  law's  award,  budge !     Back  into  your  place ! 
Your  betters  shall  arrange  the  rest  for  you. 
We  '11  enter  a  new  action,  claim  divorce  : 
Your  marriage  was  a  cheat  themselves  allow  : 
You  erred  i'  the  person,  —  might  have  married  thus 
Your  sister  or  your  daughter  unaware. 
We  'U  gain  you,  that  way,  liberty  at  least. 
Sure  of  so  much  by  law's  own  showing.     Up 
And  off  with  you  and  your  nnluckiness  — 
Leave  us  to  bury  the  blunder,  sweep  things  smooth !  " 
I  was  in  humble  frame  of  mind,  be  sure ! 
I  bowed,  betook  me  to  my  place  again. 
Station  by  station  I  retraced  the  road. 
Touched  at  this  hostel,  passed  this  post-house  by, 
Where,  fresh-remembered  yet,  the  fugitives 
Had  risen  to  the  heroic  stature  :  stiU  — 
"That  was  the  bench  the}'  sat  on,  — there  's  the  board 
They  took  the  meal  at,  —  yonder  garden-gi-ound 
They  leaned  across  the  gate  of,"  —  ever  a  word 
O'  the  Helen  and  the  Paris,  with  "  Ha !  you  're  he. 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  171 

The  .  .  .  much-commiserated  husband  ?  "     Step 
By  step,  across  the  pelting,  did  I  reach 
Arezzo,  underwent  the  archway's  grin, 
Traversed  the  length  of  sarcasm  in  the  street. 
Found  myself  in  my  horrible  house  once  more, 
And  after  a  colloquy  .  .  .  lio  word  assists ! 
With  the  mother  and  the  brothers,  stiffened  me 
Straight  out  from  head  to  foot  as  dead  man  does, 
And,  thus  prepared  for  life  as  he  for  hell. 
Marched  to  the  public  Square  and  met  the  world. 
Apologize  for  the  pincers,  palliate  screws  ? 
Ply  me  with  such  toy-trifles,  I  entreat ! 
Trust  who  has  tried  both  sulphur  and  sops-in-wine  ! 

I  played  the  man  as  I  best  might,  bade  friends 

Put  non-essentials  by  and  face  the  fact. 
"  What  need  to  hang  myself  as  you  advise  ? 

The  paramour  is  banished,  —  the  ocean's  width, 

Or  the  suburb's  length,  — to  Ultima  Thule,  say. 

Or  Proxima  Civitas,  what 's  the  odds  of  name 

And  place  ?     He 's  banished,  and  the  fact 's  the  thing. 

Why  should  law  banish  innocence  an  inch  ? 

Here  's  guilt  then,  what  else  do  I  care  to  know  ? 

The  adulteress  lies  imprisoned,  —  whether  in  a  well 

With  bricks  above  and  a  snake  for  company. 

Or  tied  by  a  garter  to  a  bedpost,  —  much 

I  mind  what 's  little,  —  least 's  enough  and  to  spare  ! 

The  little  fillip  on  the  coward's  cheek 

Serves  as  though  crab-tree  cudgel  broke  his  pate. 

Law  has  pronounced  there 's  punishment,  less  or  more  : 

And  I  take  note  o'  the  fact  and  use  it  thus  — 

For  the  first  flaw  in  the  original  bond, 

I  claim  release.     My  contract  was  to  wed 

The  daughter  of  Pietro  and  Violante.     Both 

Protest  they  never  had  a  child  at  all. 

Then  I  have  never  made  a  contract :  good ! 

Cancel  me  quick  the  thing  pretended  one. 

I  shall  be  free.     What  matter  if  hurried  over 

The  harbor-boom  by  a  great  favoring  tide. 

Or  the  last  of  a  spent  ripple  that  lifts  and  leaves  ? 

The  Abate  is  about  it.     Laugh  who  wins  ! 

You  shall  not  laugh  me  out  of  faith  in  law ! 

I  listen,  through  all  ypur  noise,  to  Rome  !  " 

Home  spoke> 

In  three  months  letters  thence  admonished  me, 
"  Your  plan  for  the  divorce  is  all  mistake. 


172  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

It  would  hold,  now,  had  you,  taking  thought  to  wed 
Rachel  of  the  blue  eye  and  golden  hair, 
Found  swarth-skinned  Leah  cumber  couch  next  day  : 
But  Rachel,  blue-eyed  golden-haired  aright. 
Proving  to  be  only  Laban's  child,  not  Lot's, 
Remains  yours  all  the  same  forevermore. 
No  whit  to  the  purpose  is  yoar  plea :  you  err 
I'  the  person  and  the  quality  —  nowise 
Tn  the  individual,  —  that 's  the  case  in  point ! 
Tou  go  to  the  ground,  —  are  met  by  a  cross-suit 
For  separation,  of  the  Rachel  here. 
From  bed  and  board,  —  she  is  the  injured  one, 
You  did  the  wrong  and  have  to  answer  it. 
As  for  the  circumstance  of  imprisonment 
And  color  it  lends  to  this  your  new  attack, 
Never  fear,  that  point  is  considered  too ! 
The  durance  is  already  at  an  end  ; 
The  convent-quiet  preyed  upon  her  health, 
She  is  transferred  now  to  her  parents'  house 
—  No-parents,  when  that  cheats  and  plunders  you. 
But  parentage  again  confessed  in  full. 
When  such  confession  pricks  and  plagues  you  more  — 
As  now  —  for,  this  their  house  is  not  the  house 
In  Via  Vittoria  wherein  neighbors'  watch 
Might  incommode  the  freedom  of  your  vtife. 
But  a  certain  villa  smothered  up  in  vines 
At  the  town's  edge  by  the  gate  i'  the  Pauline  way, 
Out  of  eye-reach,  out  of  ear-shot,  httle  and  lone. 
Whither  a  friend,  —  at  Civita,  we  hope, 
A  good  half-dozen-hours'  ride  off,  —  might,  some  eve, 
Betake  himself,  and  whence  ride  back,  some  morn, 
Nobody  the  vriser  :  but  be  that  as  it  may. 
Do  not  afflict  your  brains  with  trifles  now. 
Tou  have  still  three  suits  to  manage,  all  and  each 
Ruinous  truly  should  the  event  play  false. 
It  is  indeed  the  likelier  so  to  do. 
That  brother  Paul,  your  single  prop  and  stay, 
After  a  vain  attempt  to  bring  the  Pope 
To  set  aside  procedures,  sit  himself 
And  summarily  use  prerogative. 
Afford  us  the  infallible  finger's  tact 
To  disentwine  your  tangle  of  affairs, 
Paul,  —  finding  it  moreover  past  his  strength 
To  stem  the  irruption,  bear  Rome's  ridicule 
Of  .  .  .  since  friends  must  speak  ...  to   be  round  with 
you  .  .  . 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINl  173 

Of  the  old  outwitted  husband,  wronged  and  wroth, 

Pitted  against  a  brace  of  juveniles  — 

A  brisk  priest  who  is  versed  in  Ovid's  art 

More  than  his  "  Summa,"  and  a  gamesome  wife 

Able  to  act  Corinna  without  book, 

Beside  the  waggish  parents  who  played  dupes 

To  dupe  the  duper  —  (and  truly  divers  scenes 

Of  the  Arezzo  palace,  tickle  rib 

And  tease  eye  till  the  tears  come,  so  we  laugh ; 

Nor  wants  the  shock  at  the  inn  its  comic  force, 

And  then  the  letters  and  poetry  —  merum  sal  /) 

—  Paul,  finally,  in  such  a  state  of  things, 

After  a  brief  temptation  to  go  jump 

And  join  the  fishes  in  the  Tiber,  drowns 

Sorrow  another  and  a  wiser  way  : 

House  and  goods,  he  has  sold  all  off,  is  gone. 

Leaves  Rome,  —  whether  for  France  or  Spain,  who  knows  ? 

Or  Britain  almost  divided  from  our  orb. 

You  have  lost  him  anyhow." 

Now,  —  I  see  my  lords 
Shift  in  their  seat,  —  would  I  could  do  the  same ! 
They  probably  please  expect  my  bile  was  moved 
To  purpose,  nor  much  blame  me  :  now,  they  judge, 
The  fiery  titUlation  urged  my  flesh 

Break  through  the  bonds.     By  your  pardon,  no,  sweet  Sirs  ! 
I  got  such  missives  in  the  public  place  ; 
When  I  sought  home,  —  with  such  news,  mounted  stair 
And  sat  at  last  in  the  sombre  gallery, 
('T  was  Autumn,  the  old  mother  in  bed  betimes. 
Having  to  bear  that  cold,  the  finer  frame 
Of  her  daughter-in-law  had  found  intolerable  — 
The  brother,  walking  misery  away 
O'  the  mountain-side  with  dog  and  gun  beUke,) 
As  I  supped,  ate  the  coarse  bread,  drank  the  wine 
Weak  once,  now  acrid  with  the  toad's-head-squeeze, 
My  wife's  bestowment,  —  I  broke  silence  thus  : 
"  Let  me,  a  man,  manfully  meet  the  fact, 
Confront  the  worst  o*  the  truth,  end,  and  have  peace ! 
I  am  irremediably  beaten  here,  — 
The  gross  illiterate  vulgar  couple,  —  bah  ! 
Why,  they  have  measured  forces,  mastered  mine. 
Made  me  their  spoil  and  prey  from  first  to  last. 
They  have  got  my  name,  —  't  is  nailed  now  fast  to  theirs, 
The  child  or  changeling  is  anyway  my  wife ; 
Point  by  point  as  they  plan  they  execute, 
They  gain  all,  and  I  lose  all  —  even  to  the  lure 


174  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

That  led  to  loss,  —  they  have  the  wealth  again 
They  hazarded  awhile  to  hook  me  with, 
Have  caught  the  fish  and  find  the  bait  entire  : 
They  even  have  their  child  or  changeling  back 
To  trade  with,  turn  to  account  a  second  time. 
The  brother,  presumably  might  tell  a  tale 
Or  give  a  warning,  —  he,  too,  flies  the  field, 
And  with  him  vanish  help  and  hope  of  help. 
They  have  caught  me  in  the  cavern  where  I  fell, 
Covered  my  loudest  cry  for  human  aid 
With  this  enormous  paving-stone  of  shame. 
Well,  are  we  demigods  or  merely  clay  ? 
Is  success  still  attendant  on  desert  ? 
Is  this,  we  live  on,  heaven  and  the  final  state, 
Or  earth  which  means  probation  to  the  end  ? 
Why  claim  escape  from  man's  predestined  lot 
Of  being  beaten  and  baflEled  ?  —  God's  decree. 
In  which  I,  bowing  bruised  head,  acquiesce. 
One  of  us  Franceschini  fell  long  since 
1'  the  Holy  Land,  betrayed,  tradition  runs, 
To  Paynims  by  the  feigning  of  a  girl 
He  rushed  to  free  from  ravisher,  and  found 
Lay  safe  enough  with  friends  in  ambuscade 
Who  flayed  him  while  she  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed: 
Let  me  end,  falling  by  a  like  device. 
It  wiU  not  be  so  hard.     I  am  the  last 
O'  my  line  which  will  not  suffer  any  more. 
I  have  attained  to  my  full  fifty  years, 
(About  the  average  of  us  all,  't  is  said, 
"Though  it  seems  longer  to  the  unlucky  man) 
^-  Lived  through  my  share  of  life  ;  let  all  end  here. 
Me  and  the  house  and  grief  and  shame  at  once. 
Friends  my  informants,  —  I  can  bear  your  blow !  " 
And  I  believe  't  was  in  no  unmeet  match 
For  the  stoic's  mood,  with  something  like  a  smile, 
That,  when  morose  December  roused  me  next, 
I  took  into  my  hand,  broke  seal  to  read 
The  new  epistle  from  Borne.      "  AU  to  no  use  ! 
Whate'er  the  turn  next  injury  take,"  smiled  I, 
"  Here 's  one  has  chosen  his  part  and  knows  his  cue. 
I  am  done  with,  dead  now  ;  strike  away,  good  friends  ! 
Are  the  three  suits  decided  in  a  trice  ? 
Against  me,  —  there 's  no  question !     How  does  it  go  ? 
Is  the  parentage  of  my  wife  demonstrated 
Infamous  to  her  wish  ?     Parades  she  now 
Loosed  of  the  cincture  that  so  irked  the  loin  ? 


COUNT  GUWO  FRANCESCHINI  176 

Is  the  last  penny  extracted  from  my  purse 

To  mulct  me  for  demanding  the  first  pound 

Was  promised  in  return  for  value  paid  ? 

Has  the  priest,  with  nobody  to  court  beside, 

Courted  the  Muse  in  exile,  hitched  my  hap 

Into  a  rattling  ballad-rhyme  which,  bawled 

At  tavern-doors,  wakes  rapture  everywhere, 

And  helps  cheap  wine  down  throat  this  Christmas  timej 

Beating  the  bagpipes  ?     Any  or  all  of  these  ! 

As  well,  good  friends,  you  cursed  my  palace  here 

To  its  old  cold  stone  face,  —  stuck  your  cap  for  crest 

Over  the  shield  that 's  extant  in  the  Square,  — 

Or  spat  on  the  statue's  cheek,  the  impatient  world 

Sees  cumber  tomb-top  in  our  family  church : 

Let  him  creep  under  covert  as  I  shall  do, 

Half  below-ground  already  indeed.     Good-bye  ! 

My  brothers  are  priests,  and  childless  so  ;  that 's  well  — 

And,  thank  God  most  for  this,  no  child  leave  I  — 

None  after  me  to  bear  tUl  his  heart  break 

The  being  a  Franceschini  and  my  son  !  " 

"  Nay,"  said  the  letter,  "  but  you  have  just  that ! 
A  babe,  your  veritable  son  and  heir  — 
Lawful,  —  't  is  only  eight  months  since  your  wife 
Left  you,  —  so,  son  and  heir,  your  babe  was  born 
Last  Wednesday  in  the  villa,  —  you  see  the  cause 
For  quitting  Convent  without  beat  of  drum. 
Stealing  a  hurried  march  to  this  retreat 
That 's  not  so  savage  as  the  Sisterhood 
To  slips  and  stumbles  :  Pietro's  heart  is  soft, 
Violante  leans  to  pity's  side,  —  the  pair 
Ushered  you  into  life  a  bouncing  boy  : 
And  he  's  already  hidden  away  and  safe 
From  any  claim  on  him  you  mean  to  make  — 
They  need  him  for  themselves,  —  don't  fear,  they  know 
The  use  o'  the  bantling,  —  the  nerve  thus  laid  bare 
To  nip  at,  new  and  nice,  with  finger-nail !  " 

Then  I  rose  up  like  fire,  and  fire-like  roared. 

What,  all  is  only  beginning  not  ending  now  ? 

The  worm  which  woniied  its  way  from  skin  through  flesh 

To  the  bone  and  there  lay  biting,  did  its  best,  — 

What,  it  goes  on  to  scrape  at  the  bone's  self. 

Will  wind  to  inmost  marrow  and  madden  me  ? 

There  's  to  be  yet  my  representative. 

Another  of  the  name  shall  keep  displayed 


176        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  flag  with  the  ordure  on  it,  brandish  still 

The  broken  sword  has  served  to  stir  a  jakes  ? 

Who  will  he  be,  how  will  you  call  the  man  ? 

A  Franceschini,  —  when  who  cut  my  purse. 

Filched  my  name,  hemmed  me  round,  hustled  me  hard 

As  rogues  at  a  fair  some  fool  they  strip  i'  the  midst, 

When  these  count  gains,  vaunt  pillage  presently :  — 

But  a  Caponsacchi,  oh,  be  very  sure  ! 

When  what  demands  its  tribute  of  applause 

Is  the  cunning  and  impudence  o'  the  pair  of  cheats, 

The  lies  and  lust  o'  the  mother,  and  the  brave 

Bold  carriage  of  the  priest,  worthily  crowned 

By  a  witness  to  his  feat  i'  the  following  age,  — 

And  how  this  threefold  cord  could  hook  and  fetch 

And  land  leviathan  that  king  of  pride  ! 

Or  say,  by  some  mad  miracle  of  chance, 

Is  he  indeed  my  flesh  and  blood,  this  babe  ? 

Was  it  because  fate  forged  a  link  at  last 

Betwixt  my  wife  and  me,  and  both  alike 

Found  we  had  henceforth  some  one  thing  to  love, 

Was  it  when  she  could  damn  my  soul  indeed 

She  unlatched  door,  let  all  the  devils  o'  the  dark 

Dance  in  on  me  to  cover  her  escape  ? 

Why  then,  the  surplusage  of  disgrace,  the  spilth 

Over  and  above  the  measure  of  infamy. 

Failing  to  take  effect  on  my  coarse  flesh 

Seasoned  with  scorn  now,  saturate  with  shame,  — 

Is  saved  to  instil  on  and  corrode  the  brow, 

The  baby-softness  of  my  first-born  chUd  — 

The  child  I  had  died  to  see  though  in  a  dream, 

The  child  I  was  bid  strike  out  for,  beat  the  wave 

And  baffle  the  tide  of  troubles  where  I  swam. 

So  I  might  touch  shore,  lay  down  life  at  last 

At  the  feet  so  dim  and  distant  and  divine 

Of  the  apparition,  as  't  were  Mary's  babe 

Had  held,  through  night  and  storm,  the  torch  aloft,  — 

Born  now  in  very  deed  to  bear  this  brand 

On  forehead  and  curse  me  who  could  not  save  ! 

Rather  be  the  town-talk  true.  Square's  jest,  street's  jeer 

True,  my  own  inmost  heart's  confession  true, 

And  he   the  priest's  bastard  and  none  of  mine  ! 

Ay,  there  was  cause  for  flight,  swift  flight  and  sure  ! 

The  husband  gets  unruly,  breaks  all  bounds 

When  he  encounters  some  familiar  face. 

Fashion  of  feature,  brow  and  eyes  and  lips 

Where  he  least  looked  to  find  them,  —  time  to  fly  \ 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  177 

This  bastard  then,  a  nest  for  him  is  made, 

As  the  manner  is  of  vermin,  in  my  flesh  — 

Shall  I  let  the  filthy  pest  buzz,  flap  and  sting, 

Busy  at  my  vitals  and,  nor  hand  nor  foot 

Lift,  but  let  be,  lie  stiU  and  rot  resigned  ? 

No,  I  appeal  to  God,  —  what  says  Himself, 

How  lessons  Nature  when  I  look  to  learn  ? 

Why,  that  I  am  alive,  am  stiU  a  man 

"With  brain  and  heart  and  tongue  and  right-hand  too  -^ 

Nay,  even  with  friends,  in  such  a  cause  as  this, 

To  right  me  if  I  fail  to  take  my  right. 

No  more  of  law ;  a  voice  beyond  the  law 

Enters  my  heart,  Quis  est  pro  Domino  ? 

Myself,  in  my  own  Vittiano,  told  the  tale 

To  my  own  serving-people  summoned  there : 

Told  the  first  half  of  it,  scarce  heard  to  end 

By  judges  who  got  done  with  judgment  quick 

And  clamored  to  go  execute  her  'hest — 

Who  cried,  "  Not  one  of  us  that  dig  your  soil 

And  dress  your  vineyard,  prune  your  olive-trees. 

But  would  have  brained  the  man  debauched  our  wife, 

And  staked  the  wife  whose  lust  allured  the  man. 

And  paunched  the  Duke,  had  it  been  possible. 

Who  ruled  the  land,  yet  barred  us  such  revenge  !  " 

I  fixed  on  the  first  whose  eyes  caught  mine,  some  four 

Resolute  youngsters  with  the  heart  still  fresh. 

Filled  my  purse  with  the  residue  o'  the  coin 

Uncaught-up  by  my  wife  whom  haste  made  blind. 

Donned  the  first  rough  and  rural  garb  I  found, 

Took  whatsoever  weapon  came  to  hand. 

And  out  we  flung  and  on  we  ran  or  reeled 

Romeward.     I  have  no  memory  of  our  way. 

Only  that,  when  at  intervals  the  cloud 

Of  horror  about  me  opened  to  let  in  life, 

I  listened  to  some  song  in  the  ear,  some  snatch 

Of  a  legend,  relic  of  religion,  stray 

Fragment  of  record  very  strong  and  old 

Of  the  first  conscience,  the  anterior  right, 

The  God's-gift  to  mankind,  impulse  to  quench 

The  antagonistic  spark  of  hell  and  tread 

Satan  and  all  his  malice  into  dust. 

Declare  to  the  world  the  one  law,  right  is  right. 

Then  the  cloud  re-encompassed  me,  and  so 

I  found  myself,  as  on  the  wings  of  winds. 

Arrived :  I  was  at  Rome  on  Christmas  Eve. 


178  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Festive  bells  —  everywhere  the  Feast  o'  the  Babe, 

Joy  upon  earth,  peace  and  good  will  to  man  ! 

I  am  baptized.     I  started  and  let  drop 

The  dagger.     "  Where  is  it,  His  promised  peace  ?  " 

Nine  days  o'  the  Birth-Feast  did  I  pause  and  pray 

To  enter  into  no  temptation  more. 

I  bore  the  hateful  house,  my  brother's  once, 

Deserted,  —  let  the  ghost  of  social  joy 

Mock  and  make  mouths  at  me  from  empty  room 

And  idle  door  that  missed  the  master's  step,  — 

Bore  the  frank  wonder  of  incredulous  eyes. 

As  my  own  people  watched  without  a  word. 

Waited,  from  where  they  huddled  round  the  hearth 

Black  like  all  else,  that  nod  so  slow  to  come. 

I  stopped  my  ears  even  to  the  inner  call 

Of  the  dread  duty,  only  heard  the  song 

"  Peace  upon  earth,"  saw  nothing  but  the  face 
O'  the  Holy  Infant  and  the  halo  there 
Able  to  cover  yet  another  face 
Behind  it,  Satan's,  which  I  else  should  see. 
But,  day  by  day,  joy  waned  and  withered  o£E : 
The  Babe's  face,  premature  with  peak  and  pine^ 
Sank  into  wrinkled  ruinous  old  age. 
Suffering  and  death,  then  mist-like  disappeared, 
And  showed  only  the  Cross  at  end  of  all. 
Left  nothing  more  to  interpose  'twixt  me 
And  the  dread  duty,  —  for  the  angels'  song, 

"  Peace  upon  earth,"  louder  and  louder  pealed, 

"  O  Lord,  how  long,  how  long  be  unavenged  ?  " 
On  the  ninth  day,  this  grew  too  much  for  man. 
I  started  up  —  "  Some  end  must  be  !  "     At  once, 
Silence  :  then,  scratching  like  a  death-watch-tick. 
Slowly  within  my  brain  was  syllabled, 

"  One  more  concession,  one  decisive  way 
And  but  one,  to  determine  thee  the  truth,  — 
This  way,  in  fine,  I  whisper  in  thy  ear : 
Now  doubt,  anon  decide,  thereupon  act !  " 

"  That  is  a  way,  thou  whisperest  in  my  ear ! 
I  doubt,  I  will  decide,  then  act,"  said  I  — 
Then  beckoned  my  companions :  "  Time  is  come  ! " 

And  so,  all  yet  uncertain  save  the  wUl 

To  do  right,  and  the  daring  aught  save  leave 

Right  undone,  I  did  find  myself  at  last 

r  the  dark  before  the  villa  with  my  friends. 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  179 

And  made  the  experiment,  the  final  test, 
Ultimate  chance  that  ever  was  to  be 
For  the  wretchedness  inside.     I  knocked  —  pronounced 
The  name,  the  predetermined  touch  for  truth, 
"  What  welcome  for  the  wanderer  ?     Open  straight  —  " 
To  the  friend,  physician,  friar  upon  his  rounds. 
Traveller  belated,  beggar  lame  and  blind  ? 
No,  but  —  "  to  Caponsacchi  !  "     And  the  door 
Opened. 

And  then,  —  why,  even  then,  I  think, 
I'  the  minute  that  confirmed  my  worst  of  fears. 
Surely,  —  I  pray  God  that  I  think  aright !  — 
Had  but  Pompilia's  self,  the  tender  thing 
Who  once  was  good  and  pure,  was  once  my  lamb 
And  lay  in  my  bosom,  had  the  well-known  shape 
Fronted  me  in  the  doorway,  —  stood  there  faint 
With  the  recent  pang,  perhaps,  of  giving  birth 
To  what  might,  though  by  miracle,  seem  my  child,  — 
Nay  more,  I  will  say,  had  even  the  aged  fool 
Pietro,  the  dotard,  in  whom  folly  and  age 
Wrought,  more  than  enmity  or  malevolence, 
To  practise  and  conspire  against  my  peace,  — 
Had  either  of  these  but  opened,  I  had  paused. 
But  it  was  she  the  hag,  she  that  brought  hell 
For  a  dowry  with  her  to  her  husband's  house. 
She  the  mock-mother,  she  that  made  the  match 
And  married  me  to  perdition,  spring  and  source 
O'  the  fire  inside  me  that  boiled  up  from  heart 
To  brain  and  haUed  the  Fury  gave  it  birth,  — 
Violante  Comparini,  she  it  was, 
With  the  old  grin  amid  the  wrinkles  yet. 
Opened  :  as  if  in  turning  from  the  Cross, 
With  trust  to  keep  the  sight  and  save  my  soul, 
I  had  stumbled,  first  thing,  on  the  serpent's  head 
Coiled  with  a  lefer  at  foot  of  it. 

There  was  the  end  ! 
Then  was  I  rapt  away  by  the  impulse,  one 
Immeasurable  everlasting  wave  of  a  need 
To  abolish  that  detested  life.     'T  was  done  : 
You  know  the  rest  and  how  the  iolds  o'  the  thing, 
Twisting  for  help,  involved  the  other  two 
More  or  less  serpent-like  :  how  I  was  mad, 
Blind,  stamped  on  all,  the  earth-worms  with  the  asp, 
And  ended  so. 

Tou  came  on  me  that  night. 
Your  officers  of  justice,  —  caught  the  crime 


180  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

In  the  first  natural  frenzy  of  remorse  ? 

Twenty  miles  ofE,  sound  sleeping  as  a  child 

On  a  cloak  i'  the  straw  which  promised  shelter  first, 

With  the  bloody  arms  beside  me,  —  was  it  not  so  ? 

Wherefore  not  ?     Why,  how  else  should  I  be  found  ? 

I  was  my  own  self,  had  my  sense  again. 

My  soul  safe  from  the  serpents.     I  could  sleep : 

Indeed  and,  dear  my  lords,  I  shall  sleep  now, 

Spite  of  my  shoulder,  in  five  minutes'  space, 

When  you  dismiss  me,  having  truth  enough ! 

It  is  but  a  few  days  are  passed,  I  find. 

Since  this  adventure.     Do  you  tell  me,  four  ? 

Then  the  dead  are  scarce  quiet  where  they  Ue, 

Old  Pietro,  old  Violante,  side  by  side 

At  the  church  Lorenzo,  —  oh,  they  know  it  well ! 

So  do  I.     But  my  wife  is  still  alive, 

Has  breath  enough  to  teU  her  story  yet. 

Her  way,  which  is  not  mine,  no  doubt,  at  all. 

And  Caponsacchi,  you  have  summoned  him,  — 

Was  he  so  far  to  send  for  ?     Not  at  hand  ? 

I  thought  some  few  o'  the  stabs  were  in  his  heart, 

Or  had  not  been  so  lavish  :    less  had  served. 

Well,  he  too  tells  his  story,  —  florid  prose 

As  smooth  as  mine  is  rough.     You  see,  my  lordsj 

There  will  be  a  lying  intoxicating  smoke 

Born  of  the  blood,  —  confusion  probably,  — 

For  Hes  breed  lies  —  but  all  that  rests  with  you ! 

The  trial  is  no  concern  of  mine  ;  with  me 

The  main  of  the  care  is  over  :  I  at  least 

Recognize  who  took  that  huge  burden  off. 

Let  me  begin  to  live  again.     I  did 

God's  bidding  and  man's  duty,  so,  breathe  free ; 

Look  you  to  the  rest !     I  heard  Himself  prescribe, 

That  great  Physician,  and  dared  lance  the  core 

Of  the  bad  ulcer ;  and  the  rage  abates, 

I  am  myself  and  whole  now  :  I  prove  cured 

By  the  eyes  that  see,  the  ears  that  hear  again, 

The  limbs  that  have  relearned  their  youthful  play, 

The  healthy  taste  of  food  and  feel  of  clothes 

And  taking  to  our  common  life  once  more. 

All  that  now  urges  my  defence  from  death. 

The  willingness  to  live,  what  means  it  else  ? 

Before,  —  but  let  the  very  action  speak ! 

Judge  for  yourselves,  what  life  seemed  worth  to  me 

Who,  not  by  proxy  but  in  person,  pitched 

Head-foremost  into  danger  as  a  fool 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  181 

That  never  cares  if  he  can  swim  or  no  — 

So  he  but  find  the  bottom,  braves  the  brook. 

No  man  omits  precaution,  quite  neglects 

Secrecy,  safety,  schemes  not  how  retreat, 

Having  schemed  he  might  advance.     Did  I  so  scheme  ? 

Why,  with  a  warrant  which  't  is  ask  and  have, 

"With  horse  thereby  made  mine  without  a  word, 

I  had  gained  the  frontier  and  slept  safe  that  night. 

Then,  my  companions,  —  call  them  what  you  please, 

Slave  or  stipendiary,  —  what  need  of  one 

To  me  whose  right-hand  did  its  owner's  work  ? 

Hire  an  assassin  yet  expose  yourself  ? 

As  well  buy  glove  and  then  thrust  naked  hand 

I'  the  thorn-bush.     No,  the  wise  man  stays  at  home, 

Sends  only  agents  out,  with  pay  to  earn  : 

At  home,  when  they  come  back,  —  he  straight  discards 

Or  else  disowns.     Why  use  such  tools  at  all 

When  a  man's  foes  are  of  his  house,  like  mine, 

Sit  at  his  board,  sleep  in  his  bed  ?     Why  noise. 

When  there 's  the  aoquetta  and  the  silent  way  ? 

Clearly  my  life  was  valueless. 

But  now 
Health  is  returned,  and  sanity  of  soul 
Nowise  indifferent  to  the  body's  harm. 
I  find  the  instinct  bids  me  save  my  life  ; 
My  wits,  too,  rally  round  me  ;  I  pick  up 
And  use  the  arms  that  strewed  the  ground  before, 
Unnoticed  or  spurned  aside  :   I  take  my  stand, 
Make  my  defence.     God  shall  not  lose  a  life 
May  do  Him  further  service,  while  I  speak 
And  you  hear,  you  my  judges  and  last  hope  ! 
You  are  the  law  :  't  is  to  the  law  I  look. 
I  began  life  by  hanging  to  the  law, 
To  the  law  it  is  I  hang  till  life  shall  end. 
My  brother  made  appeal  to  the  Pope,  't  is  true, 
To  stay  proceedings,  judge  my  cause  himself 
Nor  trouble  law,  —  some  fondness  of  conceit 
That  rectitude,  sagacity  sufficed 
The  investigator  in  a  case  like  mine. 
Dispensed  with  the  machine  of  law.     The  Pope 
Knew  better,  set  aside  my  brother's  plea 
And  put  me  back  to  law,  —  referred  the  cause 
Ad  jydices  meos,  —  doubtlessly  did  well. 
Here,  then,  I  clutch  my  judges,  —  I  claim  law  — 
Cry,  by  the  higher  law  whereof  your  law 


182  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

0'  the  land  is  humbly  representative,  — 

Cry,  on  what  point  is  it,  where  either  accuse, 

I  fail  to  furnish  you  defence  ?     I  stand 

Acquitted,  actually  or  virtually, 

By  every  intermediate  kind  of  court 

That  takes  account  of  right  or  wrong  in  man, 

Each  unit  in  the  series  that  begins 

With  God's  throne,  ends  with  the  tribunal  here. 

God  breathes,  not  speaks,  his  verdicts,  felt  not  heard, 

Passed  on  successively  to  each  court  I  call 

Man's  conscience,  custom,  manners,  all  that  make 

More  and  more  effort  to  promulgate,  mark 

God's  verdict  in  determinable  words. 

Till  last  come  human  jurists  —  solidify 

Fluid  result,  —  what 's  fixable  lies  forged, 

Statute,  —  the  residue  escapes  in  fume. 

Yet  hangs  aloft,  a  cloud,  as  palpable 

To  the  finer  sense  as  word  the  legist  welds. 

Justinian's  Pandects  only  make  precise 

What  simply  sparkled  in  men's  eyes  before. 

Twitched  in  their  brow  or  quivered  on  their  lip. 

Waited  the  speech  they  called  but  would  not  come. 

These  courts  then,  whose  decree  your  own  confirms,  — 

Take  my  whole  life,  not  this  last  act  alone, 

Look  on  it  by  the  light  reflected  thence  ! 

What  has  Society  to  charge  me  with  ? 

Come,  unreservedly,  —  favor  none  nor  fear,  — 

I  am  Guido  Franceschini,  am  I  not  ? 

You  know  the  courses  I  was  free  to  take  ? 

I  took  just  that  which  let  me  serve  the  Church, 

I  gave  it  all  my  labor  in  body  and  soul 

TiU  these  broke  down  i'  the  service.     "  Specify?" 

Well,  my  last  patron  was  a  Cardinal. 

I  left  him  unconvicted  of  a  fault  — 

Was  even  helped,  by  way  of  gratitude, 

Into  the  new  life  that  I  left  him  for. 

This  very  misery  of  the  marriage,  —  he 

Made  it,  kind  soul,  so  far  as  in  him  lay  — 

Signed  the  deed  where  you  yet  may  see  his  name. 

He  is  gone  to  his  reward,  —  dead,  being  my  friend 

Who  could  have  helped  here  also,  —  that,  of  course  ! 

So  far,  there  's  my  acquittal,  I  suppose. 

Then  comes  the  marriage  itself  —  no  question,  lords, 

Of  the  entire  validity  of  that ! 

In  the  extremity  of  distress,  't  is  true. 

For  after-reasons,  furnished  abundantly. 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  183 

I  wished  the  thing  invalid,  went  to  you 
Only  some  months  since,  set  you  duly  forth 
My  wrong  and  prayed  your  remedy,  that  a  cheat 
Should  not  have  force  to  cheat  my  whole  life  long. 

"  Annul  a  marriage  ?     'T  is  impossible  ! 
Though  ring  about  your  neck  be  brass  not  gold, 
Needs  must  it  clasp,  gangrene  you  all  the  same  !  " 
Well,  let  me  have  the  benefit,  just  so  far, 
O'  the  fact  announced,  —  my  wife  then  is  my  wife, 
I  have  allowance  for  a  husband's  right. 
I  am  charged  with  passing  right's  due  bound,  —  such  acts 
As  I  thought  just,  my  wife  called  cruelty, 
Complained  of  in  due  form,  —  convoked  no  court 
Of  common  gossipry,  but  took  her  wrongs  — 
And  not  once,  but  so  long  as  patience  served  — 
To  the  town's  top,  jurisdiction's  pride  of  place. 
To  the  Archbishop  and  the  Governor. 
These  heard  her  charge  with  my  reply,  and  found 
That  futile,  this  sufficient :  they  dismissed 
The  hysteric  querulous  rebel,  and  confirmed 
Authority  in  its  wholesome  exercise. 
They,  with  directest  access  to  the  facts. 

"  —  Ay,  for  it  was  their  friendship  favored  you. 
Hereditary  alliance  against  a  breach 
I'  the  social  order  :  prejudice  for  the  name 
Of  Franceschini !  "  —  So  I  hear  it  said  : 
But  not  here.     You,  lords,  never  will  you  say 

"  Such  is  the  nullity  of  grace  and  truth, 
Such  the  corruption  of  the  faith,  such  lapse 
Of  law,  such  warrant  have  the  Molinists 
For  daring  reprehend  us  as  they  do,  — 
That  we  pronounce  it  just  a  common  case. 
Two  dignitaries,  each  in  his  degree 
First,  foremost,  this  the  spiritual  head,  and  that 
The  secular  arm  o'  the  body  politic. 
Should,  for  mere  wrongs'  love  and  injustice'  sake. 
Side  with,  aid  and  abet  in  cruelty 
This  broken  beggarly  noble,  —  bribed  perhaps 
By  his  watered  wine  and  mouldy  crust  of  bread  — 
Rather  than  that  sweet  tremulous  flower-like  wife 
Who  kissed  their  hands  and  curled  about  their  feet 
Looking  the  irresistible  loveliness 
In  tears  that  takes  man  captive,  turns  "...  enough ! 
Do  you  blast  your  predecessors  ?     What  forbids 
Posterity  to  trebly  blast  yourselves 
Who  set  the  example  and  instruct  their  tongue  ? 


184  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

You  dreaded  the  crowd,  succumbed  to  the  popular  cry. 

Or  else,  would  nowise  seem  defer  thereto 

And  yield  to  public  clamor  though  i'  the  right ! 

You  ridded  your  eye  of  my  unseemliness. 

The  noble  whose  misfortune  wearied  you,  — 

Or,  what 's  more  probable,  made  common  cause 

"With  the  cleric  section,  punished  in  myself 

Maladroit  uncomplaisant  laity. 

Defective  in  behavior  to  a  priest 

Who  claimed  the  customary  partnership 

r  the  house  and  the  wife.     Lords,  any  lie  will  serve ! 

Look  to  it,  —  or  allow  me  freed  so  far ! 

Then  I  proceed  a  step,  come  with  clean  hands 
Thus  far,  re-tell  the  tale  told  eight  months  since. 
The  wife,  you  allow  so  far,  I  have  not  wronged, 
Has  fled  my  roof,  plundered  me  and  decamped 
In  company  with  the  priest  her  paramour  : 
And  I  gave  chase,  came  up  with,  caught  the  two 
At  the  wayside  inn  where  both  had  spent  the  night, 
Found  them  in  flagrant  fault,  and  found  as  well. 
By  documents  with  name  and  plan  and  date. 
The  fault  was  furtive  then  that 's  flagrant  now, 
Their  intercourse  a  long  established  crime. 
I  did  not  take  the  license  law's  self  gives 
To  slay  both  criminals  o'  the  spot  at  the  time, 
But  held  my  hand,  —  preferred  play  prodigy 
Of  patience  which  the  world  calls  cowardice, 
Rather  than  seem  anticipate  the  law 
And  cast  discredit  on  its  organs,  —  you. 
So,  to  your  bar  I  brought  both  criminals. 
And  made  my  statement :  heard  their  counter-charge, 
Nay,  —  their  corroboration  of  my  tale. 
Nowise  disputing  its  allegements,  not 
I'  the  main,  not  more  than  nature's  decency 
Compels  men  to  keep  silence  in  this  kind,  — 
Only  contending  that  the  deeds  avowed 
Would  take  another  color  and  bear  excuse. 
You  were  to  judge  between  us ;  so  you  did. 
You  disregard  the  excuse,  you  breathe  away 
The  color  of  innocence  and  leave  guilt  black  ; 
"  Guilty  "  is  the  decision  of  the  court. 
And  that  I  stand  in  consequence  untouched. 
One  white  integrity  from  head  to  heel. 
Not  guilty  ?     Why  then  did  you  punish  them  ? 
True,  punishment  has  been  inadequate  — 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  185 

'T  is  not  I  only,  not  my  friends  that  joke, 

My  foes  that  jeer,  who  echo  "  inadequate  "  — 

For,  by  a  chance  that  comes  to  help  for  once. 

The  same  case  simultaneously  was  judged 

At  Arezzo,  in  the  province  of  the  Court 

Where  the  crime  had  its  beginning  but  not  end 

They  then,  deciding  on  but  half  o'  the  crime, 

The  effraction,  robbery,  —  features  of  the  fault 

I  never  cared  to  dwell  upon  at  Rome,  — 

What  was  it  they  adjudged  as  penalty 

To  Pompilia,  —  the  one  criminal  o'  the  pair 

Amenable  to  their  judgment,  not  the  priest 

Who  is  Rome's  ?     Why,  just  imprisonment  for  life 

I'  the  Stinche.     There  was  Tuscany's  award 

To  a  wife  that  robs  her  husband  :  you  at  Rome  — 

Having  to  deal  with  adultery  in  a  wife 

And,  in  a  priest,  breach  of  the  priestly  vow  — 

Give  gentle  sequestration  for  a  month 

In  a  manageable  Convent,  then  release, 

You  call  imprisonment,  in  the  very  house 

O'  the  very  couple,  which  the  aim  and  end 

Of  the  culprits'  crime  was  —  just   to  reach  and  rest 

And  there  take  solace  and  defy  me  :  well,  — 

This  difference  'twixt  their  penalty  and  yours 

Is  immaterial :  make  your  penalty  less  — 

Merely  that  she  should  henceforth  wear  black  gloves 

And  white  fan,  she  who  wore  the  opposite  — 

Why,  all  the  same  the  fact  o'  the  thing  subsists. 

Reconcile  to  your  conscience  as  you  may. 

Be  it  on  your  own  heads,  you  pronounced  but  half 

O'  the  penalty  for  heinousness  like  hers 

And  his,  that  pays  a  fault  at  Carnival 

Of  comfit-pelting  past  discretion's  law, 

Or  accident  to  handkerchief  in  Lent 

Which  falls  perversely  as  a  lady  kneels 

Abruptly,  and  but  half  conceals  her  neck  ! 

I  acquiesce  for  my  part :  punished,  though 

By  a  pin-point  scratch,  means  guilty  :  guilty  means 

—  What  have  I  been  but  innocent  hitherto  ? 

Anyhow,  here  the  offence,  being  punished,  ends. 

Ends  ?  —  for  you  deemed  so,  did  you  not,  sweet  lords  ? 
That  was  throughout  the  veritable  aim 
O'  the  sentence  light  or  heavy,  —  to  redress 
Recognized  wrong  ?     You  righted  me,  I  think  ? 
Well  then,  —  what  if  I,  at  this  last  of  all. 


186  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Demonstrate  you,  as  my  whole  pleading  proves, 
No  particle  of  wrong  received  thereby 
One  atom  of  right  ?  —  that  cure  grew  worse  disease  ? 
That  in  the  process  you  call  "  justice  done  " 
All  along  you  have  nipped  away  just  inch 
By  inch  the  creeping  climbing  length  of  plague 
Breaking  my  tree  of  life  from  root  to  branch, 
And  left  me,  after  all  and  every  act 
Of  your  interference,  —  lightened  of  what  load  ? 
At  liberty  wherein  ?     Mere  words  and  wind  ! 
"  Now  I  was  saved,  now  I  should  feel  no  more 
The  hot  breath,  find  a  respite  from  fixed  eye 
And  vibrant  tongue  !  "     Why,  scarce  your  back  was  turned, 
There  was  the  reptile,  that  feigned  death  at  first, 
Renewing  its  detested  spire  and  spire 
Around  me,  rising  to  such  heights  of  hate 
That,  so  far  from  mere  purpose  now  to  crush 
And  coil  itself  on  the  remains  of  me. 
Body  and  mind,  and  there  flesh  fang  content, 
Its  aim  is  now  to  evoke  life  from  death. 
Make  me  anew,  satisfy  in  my  son 
The  hunger  I  may  feed  but  never  sate, 
Tormented  on  to  perpetuity,  — 
My  son,  whom,  dead,  I  shall  know,  understand, 
Feel,  hear,  see,  never  more  escape  the  sight 
In  heaven  that 's  turned  to  hell,  or  hell  returned 
(So,  rather,  say)  to  this  same  earth  again,  — 
Moulded  into  the  image  and  made  one. 
Fashioned  of  soul  as  featured  like  in  face. 
First  taught  to  laugh  and  lisp  and  stand  and  go 
By  that  thief,  poisoner  and  adulteress 
I  call  Pompilia,  he  calls  .  .  .  sacred  name. 
Be  unpronounced,  be  unpolluted  here  ! 
And  last  led  up  to  the  glory  and  prize  of  hate 
By  his  .  .  .  foster-father,  Caponsacchi's  self. 
The  perjured  priest,  pink  of  conspirators, 
Tricksters  and  knaves,  yet  polished,  superfine. 
Manhood  to  model  adolescence  by ! 
Lords,  look  on  me,  declare,  —  when,  what  I  show. 
Is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  what  you  deemed 
And  doled  me  out  for  justice,  — what  did  you  say? 
For  reparation,  restitution  and  more,  — 
Will  you  not  thank,  praise,  bid  me  to  your  breasts 
For  having  done  the  thing  you  thought  to  do, 
And  thoroughly  trampled  out  sin's  life  at  last  ? 
I  have  heightened  phrase  to  make  your  soft  speech  serve, 


COUNT  GUIDO  FRANCESCHINI  187 

Doubled  the  blow  you  but  essayed  to  strike, 

Carried  into  effect  your  mandate  here 

That  else  had  fallen  to  ground :  mere  duty  done, 

Oversight  of  the  master  just  supplied 

By  zeal  i'  the  servant.    I,  being  used  to  serve, 

Have  simply  .  .  .  what  is  it  they  charge  me  with  ? 

Blackened  again,  made  legible  once  more 

Your  own  decree,  not  permanently  writ, 

Rightly  conceived  but  all  too  faintly  traced. 

It  reads  efficient,  now,  comminatory, 

A  terror  to  the  wicked,  answers  so 

The  mood  o'  the  magistrate,  the  mind  of  law. 

Absolve,  then,  me,  law's  mere  executant ! 

Protect  your  own  defender,  —  save  me.  Sirs  ! 

Give  me  my  life,  give  me  my  liberty. 

My  good  name  and  my  civic  rights  again ! 

It  would  be  too  fond,  too  complacent  play 

Into  the  hands  o'  the  devU,  should  we  lose 

The  game  here,  I  for  God  :  a  soldier-bee 

That  yields  his  life,  exenterate  with  the  stroke 

O'  the  sting  that  saves  the  hive.     I  need  that  life. 

Oh,  never  fear  !     I  '11  find  life  plenty  use 

Though  it  should  last  five  years  more,  aches  and  all ! 

For,  first  thing,  there's  the  mother's  age  to  help  — 

Let  her  come  break  her  heart  upon  my  breast. 

Not  on  the  blank  stone  of  my  nameless  tomb  ! 

The  fugitive  brother  has  to  be  bidden  back 

To  the  old  routine,  repugnant  to  the  tread. 

Of  daily  suit  and  service  to  the  Church,  — 

Through  gibe  and  jest,  those  stones  that  Shimei  flung ! 

Ay,  and  the  spirit-broken  youth  at  home, 

The  awe-struck  altar-ministrant,  shall  make 

Amends  for  faith  now  palsied  at  the  source. 

Shall  see  truth  yet  triumphant,  justice  yet 

A  victor  in  the  battle  of  this  world ! 

Give  me  — for  last,  best  gift  —  my  son  again. 

Whom  law  makes  mine,  —  I  take  him  at  your  word. 

Mine  be  he,  by  miraculous  mercy,  lords ! 

Let  me  lift  up  his  youth  and  innocence 

To  purify  my  palace,  room  by  room 

Purged  of  the  memories,  lend  from  his  bright  brow 

Light  to  the  old  proud  paladin  my  sire 

Shrunk  now  for  shame  into  the  darkest  shade 

O'  the  tapestry,  showed  him  once  and  shrouds  him  now  ! 

Then  may  we,  —  strong  from  that  rekindled  smile,  — 

Go  forward,  face  new  times,  the  better  day. 


188        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  when,  in  times  made  better  through  your  brave 

Decision  now,  —  might  but  Utopia  be !  — 

Rome  rife  with  honest  women  and  strong  men, 

Manners  reformed,  old  habits  back  once  more. 

Customs  that  recognize  the  standard  worth,  — 

The  wholesome  household  rule  in  force  again, 

Husbands  once  more  God's  representative. 

Wives  like  the  typical  Spouse  once  more,  and  Priests 

No  longer  men  of  Belial,  with  no  aim 

At  leading  silly  women  captive,  but 

Of  rising  to  such  duties  as  yours  now,  — 

Then  will  I  set  my  son  at  my  right-hand 

And  tell  his  father's  story  to  this  point, 

Adding,  "  The  task  seemed  superhuman,  still 

I  dared  and  did  it,  trusting  God  and  law : 

And  they  approved  of  me  :  give  praise  to  both  !  " 

And  if,  for  answer,  he  shall  stoop  to  kiss 

My  hand,  and  peradventure  start  thereat,  — 

I  engage  to  smile,  "  That  was  an  accident 

I'  the  necessary  process,  —  just  a  trip 

O'  the  torture-irons  in  their  search  for  truth,  — 

Hardly  misfortune,  and  no  fault  at  aU." 


VI. 

GitJSEPPE  CAPONSACCHI. 

Answee  you,  Sirs  ?     Do  I  understand  aright  ? 

Have  patience  !     In  this  sudden  smoke  from  hell,  — 

So  things  disguise  themselves,  —  I  cannot  see 

My  own  hand  held  thus  broad  before  my  face 

And  know  it  again.     Answer  you  ?     Then  that  means 

Tell  over  twice  what  I,  the  first  time,  told 

Six  months  ago  :  't  was  here,  I  do  believe, 

Fronting  you  same  three  in  this  very  room, 

I  stood  and  told  you :  yet  now  no  one  laughs. 

Who  then  .  .  .  nay,  dear  my  lords,  but  laugh  you  did, 

As  good  as  laugh,  what  in  a  judge  we  style 

Laughter  —  no  levity,  nothing  indecorous,  lords  ! 

Only,  —  I  think  I  apprehend  the  mood  : 

There  was  the  blameless  shrug,  permissible  smirk, 

The  pen's  pretence  at  play  with  the  pursed  mouth, 

The  titter  stifled  in  the  hollow  palm 

Which  rubbed  the  eyebrow  and  caressed  the  nose, 

When  I  first  told  my  tale  :  they  meant,  you  know, 

"  The  sly  one,  all  this  we  are  bound  believe  ! 
Well,  he  can  say  no  other  than  what  he  says. 
We  have  been  young,  too,  —  come,  there  's  greater  guilt  I 
Let  him  but  decently  disembroil  himself. 
Scramble  from  out  the  scrape  nor  move  the  mud,  — 
We  solid  ones  may  risk  a  finger-stretch  !  " 
And  now  you  sit  as  grave,  stare  as  aghast 
As  if  I  were  a  phantom :  now  't  is  —  "Friend, 
Collect  yourself !  "  —  no  laughing  matter  more  — 

"  Counsel  the  Court  in  this  extremity. 
Tell  us  again  !  "  —  tell  that,  for  telling  which, 
I  got  the  jocular  piece  of  punishment. 
Was  sent  to  lounge  a  little  in  the  place 
Whence  now  of  a  sudden  here  you  summon  me 
To  take  the  intelligence  from  just — your  lips  ! 
You,  Judge  Tommati,  who  then  tittered  most,  — 
That  she  I  helped  eight  months  since  to  escape 
Her  husband,  was  retaken  by  the  same, 


190  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Three  days  ago,  if  I  have  seized  your  sense,  — 

(I  being  disallowed  to  interfere, 

Meddle  or  make  in  a  matter  none  of  mine, 

For  you  and  law  were  guardians  quite  enough 

O'  the  innocent,  without  a  pert  priest's  help)  — 

And  that  he  has  butchered  her  accordingly, 

As  she  foretold  and  as  myself  believed,  — 

And,  so  foretelling  and  believing  so. 

We  were  punished,  both  of  us,  the  merry  way : 

Therefore,  tell  once  again  the  tale  !     For  what  ? 

Pompilia  is  only  dying  while  I  speak  ! 

Why  does  the  mirth  hang  fire  and  miss  the  smile  ? 

My  masters,  there 's  an  old  book,  you  should  con 

For  strange  adventures,  applicable  yet, 

'T  is  stuffed  with.     Do  you  know  that  there  was  once 

This  thing :  a  multitude  of  worthy  folk 

Took  recreation,  watched  a  certain  group 

Of  soldiery  intent  upon  a  game,  — 

How  first  they  wrangled,  bat  soon  fell  to  play. 

Threw  dice,  —  the  best  diversion  in  the  world. 

A  word  in  your  ear,  —  they  are  now  casting  lots, 

Ay,  with  that  gesture  quaint  and  cry  uncouth, 

For  the  coat  of  One  murdered  an  hour  ag(J  ! 

I  am  a  priest,  —  talk  of  what  I  have  learned. 

Pompilia  is  bleeding  out  her  life  belike. 

Gasping  away  the  latest  breath  of  all. 

This  minute,  while  I  talk  —  not  while  you  laugh. 

Yet,  being  sobered  now,  what  is  it  you  ask 

By  way  of  explanation  ?     There 's  the  fact ! 

It  seems  to  fill  the  universe  with  sight 

And  sound,  —  from  the  four  corners  of  this  earth 

Tells  itself  over,  to  my  sense  at  least. 

But  you  may  want  it  lower  set  i'  the  scale,  — 

Too  vast,  too  close  it  clangs  in  the  ear,  perhaps  ; 

You  'd  stand  back  just  to  comprehend  it  more. 

Well  then,  let  me,  the  hollow  rock,  condense 

The  voice  o'  the  sea  and  wind,  interpret  you 

The  mystery  of  this  murder.     God  above  ! 

It  is  too  paltry,  such  a  transference 

O'  the  storm's  roar  to  the  cranny  of  the  stone ! 

This  deed,  you  saw  begin  —  why  does  its  end 

Surprise  you  ?     Why  should  the  event  enforce 

The  lesson,  we  ourselves  learned,  she  and  I, 

From  the  first  o'  the  fact,  and  taught  you,  all  in  vain  7 


GIUSEPPE  CAPON SACCHI  191 

This  Guido  from  whose  throat  you  took  my  grasp, 

Was  this  man  to  be  favored,  now,  or  feared, 

Let  do  his  will,  or  have  his  wUl  restrained, 

In  the  relation  with  Pompilia  ?  —  say  ! 

Did  any  other  man  need  interpose 

—  Oh,  though  first  comer,  though  as  strange  at  the  work 

As  fribble  must  be,  coxcomb,  fool  that 's  near 

To  knave  as,  say,  a  priest  who  fears  the  world  — 

Was  he  bound  brave  the  peril,  save  the  doomed. 

Or  go  on,  sing  his  snatch  and  pluck  his  flower. 

Keep  the  straight  path  and  let  the  victim  die  ? 

I  held  so  ;  you  decided  otherwise. 

Saw  no  such  peril,  therefore  no  such  need 

To  stop  song,  loosen  flower,  and  leave  path.    Law, 

Law  was  aware  and  watching,  would  suffice, 

Wanted  no  priest's  intrusion,  palpably 

Pretence,  too  manifest  a  subterfuge  ! 

Whereupon  I,  priest,  coxcomb,  fribble  and  fool, 

Ensconced  me  in  my  corner,  thus  rebuked, 

A  kind  of  culprit,  over-zealous  hound 

Kicked  for  his  pains  to  kennel ;  I  gave  place 

To  you,  and  let  the  law  reign  paramount : 

I  left  Pompilia  to  your  watch  and  ward. 

And  now  you  point  me  —  there  and  thus  she  lies  ! 

Men,  for  the  last  time,  what  do  you  want  with  me  ? 

Is  it,  —  you  acknowledge,  as  it  were,  a  use, 

A  profit  in  employing  ine  ?  —  at  length 

I  may  conceivably  help  the  august  law  ? 

I  am  free  to  breaik  the  blow,  next  hawk  that  swoops 

On  next  dove,  nor  miss  much  of  good  repute  ? 

Or  what  if  this  your  summons,  after  all. 

Be  but  the  form  of  mere  release,  no  more, 

Which  turns  the  key  and  lets  the  captive  go  ? 

I  have  paid  enough  in  person  at  Civita, 

Am  free,  —  what  more  need  I  concern  me  with  ? 

Thank  you  !  I  am  "rehabilitated  then, 

A  very  reputable  priest.     But  she  — 

The  glory  of  life,  the  beauty  of  the  world. 

The  splendor  of  heaven,   .  .  .  well.  Sirs,  does  no  one  move? 

Do  I  speak  ambiguously  ?     The  glory,  I  say. 

And  the  beauty,  I  say,  and  splendor,  still  say  I, 

Who,  priest  and  trained  to  live  my  whole  life  long 

On  beauty  and  splendor,  solely  at  their  source, 

God,  — have  thus  recognized  my  food  in  her. 

You  tell  me,  that 's  fast  dying  while  we  talk, 


192  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Pompilia  !     How  does  lenity  to  me 

Remit  one  death-bed  pang  to  her  ?     Come,  smile  ? 

The  proper  wink  at  the  hot-headed  youth 

Who  lets  his  soul  show,  through  transparent  words, 

The  mundane  love  that 's  sin  and  scandal  too  ! 

You  are  all  struck  acquiescent  now,  it  seems  : 

It  seems  the  oldest,  gravest  signor  here. 

Even  the  redoubtable  Tommati,  sits 

Chopf alien,  —  understands  how  law  might  take 

Service  like  mine,  of  brain  and  heart  and  hand, 

In  good  part.     Better  late  than  never,  law  ! 

You  understand  of  a  sudden,  gospel  too 

Has  a  claim  here,  may  possibly  pronounce 

Consistent  with  my  priesthood,  worthy  Christ, 

That  I  endeavored  to  save  Pompilia  ? 

Then, 
You  were  wrong,  you  see  :  that 's  well  to  see,  though  late: 
That 's  all  we  may  expect  of  man,  this  side 
The  grave  :  his  good  is  —  knowing  he  is  bad  : 
Thus  will  it  be  with  us  when  the  books  ope 
And  we  stand  at  the  bar  on  judgment-day. 
Well  then,  I  have  a  mind  to  speak,  see  cause 
To  relume  the  quenched  flax  by  this  dreadful  light, 
Burn  my  soul  out  in  showing  you  the  truth. 
I  heard,  last  time  I  stood  here  to  be  judged. 
What  is  priest's-duty,  —  labor  to  pluck  tares 
And  weed  the  corn  of  Molinism  ;  let  me 
Make  you  hear,  this  time,  how,  in  such  a  case, 
Man,  be  he  in  the  priesthood  or  at  plough. 
Mindful  of  Christ  or  marching  step  by  step 
With  .  .  .  what 's  his  style,  the  other  potentate 
Who  bids  have  courage  and  keep  honor  safe. 
Nor  let  minuter  admonition  tease  ?  — 
How  he  is  bound,  better  or  worse,  to  act. 
Earth  will  not  end  through  this  misjudgment,  no  ! 
For  you  and  the  others  like  you  sure  to  come. 
Fresh  work  is  sure  to  follow,  —  wickedness 
That  wants  withstanding.     Many  a  man  of  blood. 
Many  a  man  of  guile  wUl  clamor  yet, 
Bid  you  redress  his  grievance,  —  as  he  clutched 
The  prey,  forsooth  a  stranger  stepped  between. 
And  there  's  the  good  gripe  in  pure  waste  !     My  part 
Is  done ;  i'  the  doing  it,  I  pass  away 
Out  of  the  world.     1  want  no  more  with  earth. 
Let  me,  in  heaven's  name,  use  the  very  snuff 


GIUSEPPE  CAPONSACCHI  193 

O'  the  taper  in  one  last  spark  shall  show  truth 
For  a  moment,  show  Pompilia  who  was  true  ! 
Not  for  her  sake,  but  yours  :  if  she  is  dead, 
Oh,  Sirs,  she  can  be  loved  by  none  of  you 
Most  or  least  priestly  !     Saints,  to  do  us  good, 
Must  be  in  heaven,  I  seem  to  understand : 
We  never  find  them  saints  before,  at  least. 
Be  her  first  prayer  then  presently  for  you  — 
She  has  done  the  good  to  me  .  .  . 

What  is  all  this  ? 
There,  I  was  born,  have  lived,  shall  die,  a  fool ! 
This  is  a  foolish  outset :  —  might  with  cause 
Give  color  to  the  very  lie  o'  the  man, 
The  murderer,  —  make  as  if  I  loved  his  wife 
In  the  way  he  called  love.     He  is  the  fool  there  ! 
Why,  had  there  been  in  me  the  touch  of  taint, 
I  had  picked  up  so  much  of  knaves'-policy 
As  hide  it,  keep  one  hand  pressed  on  the  place 
Suspected  of  a  spot  would  damn  us  both. 
Or  no,  not  her !  —  not  even  if  any  of  you 
Dares  think  that  I,  i'  the  face  of  death,  her  death 
That 's  in  my  eyes  and  ears  and  brain  and  heart. 
Lie,  —  if  he  does,  let  him  !     I  mean  to  say, 
So  he  stop  there,  stay  thought  from  smirching  her 
The  snow-white  soul  that  angels  fear  to  take 
Untenderly.     But,  all  the  same,  I  know 
I  too  am  taintless,  and  I  bare  my  breast. 
You  can't  think,  men  as  you  are,  all  of  you. 
But  that,  to  hear  thus  suddenly  such  an  end 
Of  such  a  wonderful  white  soul,  that  comes 
Of  a  man  and  murderer  calling  the  white  black, 
Must  shake  me,  trouble  and  disadvantage.     Sirs, 
Only  seventeen ! 

Why,  good  and  wise  you  are ! 
Tou  might  at  the  beginning  stop  my  mouth : 
So,  none  would  be  to  speak  for  her,  that  knew. 
I  talk  impertinently,  and  you  bear. 
All  the  same.     This  it  is  to  have  to  do 
With  honest  hearts  :  they  easily  may  err. 
But  in  the  main  they  wish  well  to  the  truth. 
You  are  Christians  ;  somehow,  no  one  ever  plucked 
A  rag,  even,  from  the  body  of  the  Lord, 
To  wear  and  mock  with,  but,  despite  himself, 
He  looked  the  greater  and  was  the  better.     Yes, 
I  shall  go  on  now.     Does  she  need  or  not 


194  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

I  keep  calm  ?     Calm  I  '11  keep  as  monk  that  croons 
Transcribing  battle,  earthquake,  famine,  plague, 
From  parchment  to  his  cloister's  chronicle. 
Not  one  word  more  from  the  point  now  ! 

I  begin. 
Yes,  I  am  one  of  your  body  and  a  priest. 
Also  I  am  a  younger  son  o'  the  House 
Oldest  now,  greatest  once,  in  my  birth-town 
Arezzo,  I  recognize  no  equal  there  — 
(I  want  all  arguments,  all  sorts  of  arms 
That  seem  to  serve,  —  use  this  for  a  reason,  wait !) 
Not  therefore  thrust  into  the  Church,  because 
O'  the  piece  of  bread  one  gets  there.     We  were  first 
Of  Fiesole,  that  rings  still  with  the  fame 
Of  Capo-in-Sacco  our  progenitor : 
When  Florence  ruined  Fiesole,  our  folk 
Migrated  to  the  victor-city,  and  there 
Flourished,  —  our  palace  and  our  tower  attest, 
In  the  Old  Mercato,  —  this  was  years  ago, 
Four  hundred,  full,  —  no,  it  wants  fourteen  just. 
Our  arms  are  those  of  Fiesole  itself, 
The  shield  quartered  with  white  and  red  :  a  branch 
Are  the  Salviati  of  us,  nothing  more. 
That  were  good  help  to  the  Church  ?     But  better  stiU  - 
Not  simply  for  the  advantage  of  my  birth 
I'  the  way  of  the  world,  was  I  proposed  for  priest ; 
But  because  there 's  an  illustration,  late 
I'  the  day,  that 's  loved  and  looked  to  as  a  saint 
Still  in  Arezzo,  he  was  bishop  of, 
Sixty  years  since :  he  spent  to  the  last  doit 
His  bishop's-revenue  among  the  poor. 
And  used  to  tend  the  needy  and  the  sick, 
Barefoot,  because  of  his  humility. 
He  it  was,  —  when  the  Granduke  Ferdinand 
Swore  he  would  raze  our  city,  plough  the  place 
And  sow  it  with  salt,  because  we  Aretines 
Had  tied  a  rope  about  the  neck,  to  hale 
The  statue  of  his  father  from  its  base 
For  hate's  sake,  —  he  availed  by  prayers  and  tears 
To  pacify  the  Duke  and  save  the  town. 
This  was  my  father's  father's  brother.     You  see, 
For  his  sake,  how  it  was  I  had  a  right 
To  the  selfsame  office,  bishop  in  the  egg. 
So,  grew  i'  the  garb  and  prattled  in  the  school. 
Was  made  expect,  from  infancy  almost. 


GIUSEPPE  CAPONSACCHT  195 

The  proper  mood  o'  the  priest ;  till  time  ran  hy 
And  brought  the  day  when  I  must  read  the  vows, 
Declare  the  world  renounced,  and  undertake 
To  become  priest  and  leave  probation,  —  leap 
Over  the  ledge  into  the  other  life. 
Having  gone  trippingly  hitherto  up  to  the  height 
O'er  the  wan  water.     Just  a  vow  to  read ! 

I  stopped  short  awe-struck.     "  How  shall  holiest  flesh 

Engage  to  keep  such  vow  inviolate, 

How  much  less  mine  ?      I  know  myself  too  weak. 

Unworthy  !     Choose  a  worthier  stronger  man  !  " 

And  the  very  Bishop  smiled  and  stopped  my  mouth 

In  its  mid-protestation.     "  Incapable  ? 

Qualmish  of  conscience  ?     Thou  ingenuous  hoy  ! 

Clear  up  the  clouds  and  cast  thy  scruples  far  ! 

I  satisfy  thee  there 's  an  easier  sense 

Wherein  to  take  such  vow  than  suits  the  first 

Rough  rigid  reading.     Mark  what  makes  all  smooth, 

Nay,  has  been  even  a  solace  to  myself  ! 

The  Jews  who  needs  must,  in  their  synagogue. 

Utter  sometimes  the  holy  name  of  God, 

A  thing  their  superstition  boggles  at, 

Pronounce  aloud  the  ineffable  sacrosanct,  — 

How  does  their  shrewdness  help  them  ?     In  this  wise  ; 

Another  set  of  sounds  they  substitute. 

Jumble  so  consonants  and  vowels  —  how 

Should  I  know  ?  —  that  there  grows  from  out  the  old 

Quite  a  new  word  that  means  the  very  same  — 

And  o'er  the  hard  place  slide  they  with  a  smile. 

Giuseppe  Maria  Caponsacchi  mine, 

Nobody  wants  you  in  these  latter  days 

To  prop  the  Church  by  breaking  your  backbone,  — 

As  the  necessary  way  was  once,  we  know. 

When  Diocletian  flourished  and  his  like. 

That  building  of  the  buttress-work  was  done 

By  martyrs  and  confessors  :  let  it  bide. 

Add  not  a  brick,  but,  where  you  see  a  chink, 

Stick  in  a  sprig  of  ivy  or  root  a  rose 

Shall  make  amends  and  beautify  the  pile  ! 

We  profit  as  you  were  the  painfuUest 

O'  the  martyrs,  and  you  prove  yourself  a  match 

For  the  cruellest  confessor  ever  was. 

If  you  march  boldly  up  and  take  your  stand 

Where  their  blood  soaks,  their  bones  yet  strew  the  soil. 

And  cry  '  Take  notice,  I  the  young  and  free 


196        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  well-to-do  i'  the  world,  thus  leave  the  world, 

Cast  in  my  lot  thus  with  no  gay  young  world 

But  the  grand  old  Church :  she  tempts  me  of  the  two ! ' 

Kenounce  the  world  ?     Nay,  keep  and  give  it  us  ! 

Let  us  have  you,  and  boast  of  what  you  bring. 

We  want  the  pick  o'  the  earth  to  practise  with, 

Not  its  ofEscouring,  halt  and  deaf  a«id  blind 

In  soul  and  body.     There 's  a  rubble-stone 

Unfit  for  the  front  o'  the  building,  stuff  to  stow 

In  a  gap  behind  and  keep  us  weather-tight ; 

There  's  porphyry  for  the  prominent  place.     Good  lack! 

Saint  Paul  has  had  enough  and  to  spare,  I  trow, 

Of  ragged  run-away  Onesimus  : 

He  wants  the  right-hand  with  the  signet-ring 

Of  King  Agrippa,  now,  to  shake  and  use. 

I  have  a  heavy  scholar  cloistered  up. 

Close  under  lock  and  key,  kept  at  his  task 

Of  letting  Fe'nelon  know  the  fool  he  is. 

In  a  book  I  promise  Christendom  next  Spring. 

Why,  if  he  covets  so  much  meat,  the  clown. 

As  a  lark's  wing  next  Friday,  or,  any  day. 

Diversion  beyond  catching  his  own  fleas, 

He  shall  be  properly  swinged,  I  promise  him. 

But  you,  who  are  so  quite  another  paste 

Of  a  man,  —  do  you  obey  me  ?     Cultivate 

Assiduous,  that  superior  gift  you  have 

Of  making  madrigals  —  (who  told  me  ?     Ah  !) 

Get  done  a  Marinesque  Adoniad  straight 

With  a  pulse  o'  the  blood  a-pricking,  here  and  there, 

That  I  may  teU  the  lady,  '  And  he  's  ours  ! '  " 

So  I  became  a  priest :  those  terms  changed  all, 
I  was  good  enough  for  that,  nor  cheated  so ; 
I  could  live  thus  and  still  hold  head  erect. 
Now  you  see  why  I  may  have  been  before 
A  fribble  and  coxcomb,  yet,  as  priest,  break  word 
Nowise,  to  make  you  disbelieve  me  now. 
I  need  that  you  should  know  my  truth.     Well,  then. 
According  to  prescription  did  I  live, 
—  Conformed  myself,  both  read  the  breviary 
And  wrote  the  rhymes,  was  punctual  to  my  place 
I'  the  Pieve,  and  as  diligent  at  my  post 
Where  beauty  and  fashion  rule.     I  throve  apace, 
Sub-deacon,  Canon,  the  authority 
For  delicate  play  at  tarocs,  and  arbiter 
O'  the  magnitude  of  fan-mounts  :  all  the  while 


GIUSEPPE   CAPONSACCHI  197 

Wanting  no  whit  the  advantage  of  a  hint 
Benignant  to  the  promising  pupil,  —  thus  : 
"  Enough  attention  to  the  Countess  now, 
The  young  one  ;  't  is  her  mother  rules  the  roast, 
We  know  where,  and  puts  in  a  word  :  go  pay- 
Devoir  to-morrow  morning  after  mass  ! 
Break  that  rash  promise  to  preach.  Passion-week  J 
Has  it  escaped  you  the  Archhishop  grunts 
And  snuffles  when  one  grieves  to  tell  his  Grace 
No  soul  dares  treat  the  subject  of  the  day 
Since  his  own  masterly  handling  it  (ha,  ha !) 
Five  years  ago,  —  when  somebody  could  help 
And  touch  up  an  odd  phrase  in  time  of  need, 
(He, he !)  —  and  somebody  helps  you,  my  son! 
Therefore,  don't  prove  so  indispensable 
At  the  Pieve,  sit  more  loose  i'  liie  seat,  nor  grow 
A  fixture  by  attendance  morn  and  eve ! 
Arezzo  's  just  a  haven  midway  Rome  — 
Rome  's  the  eventual  harbor,  —  make  for  port. 
Crowd  sail,  crack  cordage  !     And  your  cargo  be 
A  polished  presence,  a  genteel  manner,  wit 
At  will,  and  tact  at  every  pore  of  you ! 
I  sent  our  lump  of  learning.  Brother  Clout, 
And  Father  Slouch,  our  piece  of  piety, 
To  see  Rome  and  try  suit  the  Cardinal. 
Thither  they  clump-clumped,  beads  and  book  in  hand, 
And  ever  since  't  is  meat  for  man  and  maid 
How  both  flopped  down,  prayed  blessing  on  bent  pate 
Bald  many  an  inch  beyond  the  tonsure's  need, 
Never  once  dreaming,  the  two  moony  dolts, 
There 's  nothing  moves  his  Eminence  so  much 
As  —  far  from  aU  this  awe  at  sanctitude  — 
Heads  that  wag,  eyes  that  twinkle,  modified  mirth 
At  the  closet-lectures  on  the  Latin  tongue 
A  lady  learns  so  much  by,  we  know  where. 
Why,  body  o'  Bacchus,  you  should  crave  his  rule 
For  pauses  in  the  elegiac  couplet,  chasms 
Permissible  only  to  CatuUus  !     There  ! 
Now  go  to  duty  :  brisk,  break  Priscian's  head 
By  reading  the  day's  oflSce  —  there  's  no  help. 
You  've  Ovid  in  your  poke  to  plaster  that ; 
Amen 's  at  the  end  of  all :  then  sup  with  me ! " 

WeU,  after  three  or  four  years  of  this  hfe. 
In  prosecution  of  my  caUing,  I 
Found  myself  at  the  theatre  one  night 


198  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

With  a  brother  Canon,  in  a  mood  and  mind 
Proper  enough  for  the  place,  amused  or  no  : 
When  I  saw  enter,  stand,  and  seat  herself 
A  lady,  young,  tall,  beautiful,  strange  and  sad. 
It  was  as  when,  in  our  cathedral  once. 
As  I  got  yawningly  through  matin-song, 
I  saw  facchini  bear  a  burden  up, 
Base  it  on  the  high-altar,  break  away 
A  board  or  two,  and  leave  the  thing  inside 
Lofty  and  lone :  and  lo,  when  next  I  looked, 
There  was  the  Rafael !     I  was  still  one  stare. 
When  —  "  Nay,  I  '11  make  her  give  you  back  your  gaze  "  - 
Said  Canon  Conti ;  and  at  the  word  he  tossed 
A  paper-twist  of  comfits  to  her  lap. 
And  dodged  and  in  a  trice  was  at  my  back 
Nodding  from  over  my  shoulder.     Then  she  turned, 
Looked  our  way,  smiled  the  beautiful  sad  strange  smile. 
"  Is  not  she  fair  ?     'T  is  my  new  cousin,"  said  he  : 
"  The  fellow  lurking  there  i'  the  black  o'  the  box 
Is  Guido,  the  old  scapegrace  :  she 's  his  wife, 
Married  three  years  since  :  how  his  Countship  sulks ! 
He  has  brought  little  back  from  Eome  beside. 
After  the  bragging,  bullying.     A  fair  face, 
And  —  they  do  say  —  a  pocket-full  of  gold 
When  he  can  worry  both  her  parents  dead. 
I  don't  go  much  there,  for  the  chamber  's  cold 
And  the  coffee  pale.     I  got  a  turn  at  first 
Paying  my  duty  :  I  observed  they  crouched 
—  The  two  old  frightened  family  spectres  —  close 
In  a  corner,  each  on  each  like  mouse  on  mouse 
I'  the  cat's  cage  :  ever  since,  I  stay  at  home. 
Hallo,  there 's  Guido,  the  black,  mean  and  small, 
Bends  his  brows  on  us  —  please  to  bend  your  own 
On  the  shapely  nether  limbs  of  Light-skirts  there 
By  way  of  a  diversion  !     I  was  a  fool 
To  fling  the  sweetmeats.     Prudence,  for  God's  love  ! 
To-morrow  I  '11  make  my  peace,  e'en  tell  some  fib, 
Try  if  I  can't  find  means  to  take  you  there." 

That  night  and  next  day  did  the  gaze  endure. 

Burnt  to  my  brain,  as  sunbeam  through  shut  eyes. 

And  not  once  changed  the  beautiful  sad  strange  smile. 

At  vespers  Conti  leaned  beside  my  seat 

I'  the  choir,  —  part  said,  part  sung  —  "  In  ex-cel-sis  — 

All 's  to  no  purpose  :    I  have  louted  low, 

But  he  saw  you  staring  —  quia  sub  —  don't  incline 

To  know  you  nearer  :  him  we  would  not  hold 


GIUSEPPE   CAPON SACCm  199 

For  Hercules,  —  the  man  would  lick  your  shoe 

If  you  and  certain  efBcacious  friends 

Managed  him  warily,  —  but  there 's  the  wife  : 

Spare  her,  because  he  beats  her,  as  it  is, 

She 's  breaking  her  heart  quite  fast  enough  — jam  tu  — 

So,  be  you  rational  and  make  amends 

With  little  Light-skirts  yonder  —  in  secula 

Seovrlo-o-o-o-rum.     Ah,  you  rogue !     Every  one  knows 

What  great  dame  she  makes  jealous  :  one  against  one. 

Play,  and  win  both !  " 

Sirs,  ere  the  week  was  out, 
I  saw  and  said  to  myself,  "  Light-skirts  hides  teeth 
Would  make  a  dog  sick,  —  the  great  dame  shows  spite 
Should  drive  a  cat  mad :  't  is  but  poor  work  this  — 
Counting  one's  fingers  tUl  the  sonnet 's  crowned. 
I  doubt  much  if  Marino  really  be 
A  better  bard  than  Dante  after  all. 
'T  is  more  amusing  to  go  pace  at  eve 
I'  the  Duomo,  —  watch  the  day's  last  gleam  outside 
Turn,  as  into  a  skirt  of  God's  own  robe. 
Those  lancet-windows'  jewelled  miracle,  — 
Than  go  eat  the  Archbishop's  ortolans, 
Digest  his  jokes.     Luckily  Lent  is  near : 
Who  cares  to  look  will  find  me  in  my  stall 
At  the  Pieve,  constant  to  this  faith  at  least  — 
Never  to  write  a  canzonet  any  more." 

So,  next  week,  't  was  my  patron  spoke  abrupt, 
In  altered  guise,  "  Young  man,  can  it  be  true 
That  after  all  your  promise  of  sound  fruit, 
You  have  kept  away  from  Countess  young  or  old 
And  gone  play  truant  in  church  all  day  long  ? 
Are  you  turning  Molinist  ?  "     I  answered  quick : 
"  Sir,  what  if  I  turned  Christian  ?     It  might  be. 
Tlie  fact  is,  I  am  troubled  in  my  mind, 
Beset  and  pressed  hard  by  some  novel  thoughts. 
This  your  Arezzo  is  a  limited  world  ; 
There  's  a  strange  Pope,  —  't  is  said,  a  priest  who  thinks. 
Rome  is  the  port,  you  say :  to  Rome  I  go. 
I  wUl  live  alone,  one  does  so  in  a  crowd, 
And  look  into  my  heart  a  little."     "  Lent 
Ended,"  —  I  told  friends,  —  "I  shall  go  to  Rome." 

One  evening  I  was  sitting  in  a  muse 
Over  the  opened  "  Summa,"  darkened  round 
By  the  mid-March  twilight,  thinking  how  my  life 


200  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Had  shaken  under  me,  —  broke  short  indeed 

And  showed  the  gap  'twixt  what  is,  what  should  be,  — 

And  into  what  abysm  the  soul  may  slip, 

Leave  aspiration  here,  achievement  there. 

Lacking  omnipotence  to  connect  extremes  — 

Thinking  moreover  ...  oh,  thinking,  if  you  like, 

How  utterly  dissociated  was  I        , 

A  priest  and  celibate,  from  the  sad  strange  wife 

Of  Guido,  —  just  as  an  instance  to  the  point. 

Nought  more,  —  how  I  had  a  whole  store  of  strengths 

Eating  into  my  heart,  which  craved  employ. 

And  she,  perhaps,  need  of  a  finger's  help,  — 

And  yet  there  was  no  way  in  the  wide  world 

To  stretch  out  mine  and  so  relieve  myself,  — 

How  when  the  page  o'  the  "  Summa  "  preached  its  best, 

Her  smile  kept  glowing  out  of  it,  as  to  mock 

The  silence  we  could  break  by  no  one  word,  — 

There  came  a  tap  without  the  chamber-door. 

And  a  whisper,  when  I  bade  who  tapped  speak  out, 

And,  in  obedience  to  my  summons,  last 

In  glided  a  masked  muffled  mystery. 

Laid  lightly  a  letter  on  the  opened  book. 

Then  stood  with  folded  arms  and  foot  demure, 

Pointing  as  if  to  mark  the  minutes'  flight. 

I  took  the  letter,  read  to  the  effect 
That  she,  I  lately  flung  the  comfits  to, 
Had  a  warm  heart  to  give  me  in  exchange. 
And  gave  it,  —  loved  me  and  confessed  it  thus. 
And  bade  me  render  thanks  by  word  of  mouth, 
Going  that  night  to  such  a  side  o'  the  house 
Where  the  small  terrace  overhangs  a  street    " 
Blind  and  deserted,  not  the  street  in  front : 
Her  husband  being  away,  the  surly  patch, 
At  his  villa  of  Vittiano. 

"  And  you  ?  "  —  I  asked : 
"  What  may  you  be  ?  "       "  Count  Guido's  kind  of  maid  — 
Most  of  us  have  two  functions  in  his  house. 
We  aU  hate  him,  the  lady  suffers  much, 
'T  is  just  we  show  compassion,  furnish  help. 
Specially  since  her  choice  is  fixed  so  well. ' 
What  answer  may  I  bring  to  cheer  the  sweet 
PompiUa  ?  " 

Then  I  took  a  pen  and  wrote. 
"  No  more  of  this !     That  you  are  fair,  I  know  : 


GIUSEPPE  CAPON SACCHI  201 

But  other  thoughts  now  occupy  my  mind. 

I  should  not  thus  have  played  the  insensihle 

Once  on  a  time.     What  made  you,  —  may  one  ask,  — 

Marry  your  hideous  husband  ?     'T  was  a  fault, 

And  now  you  taste  the  fruit  of  it.     Farewell." 

"  There  !  "  smiled  I  as  she  snatched  it  and  was  gone  — 
"  There,  let  the  jealous  miscreant,  —  Guide's  self, 

Whose  mean  soul  grins  through  this  transparent  trick,  — 

Be  balked  so  far,  defrauded  of  his  aim  ! 

What  fund  of  satisfaction  to  the  knave. 

Had  I  kicked  this  his  messenger  down  stairs, 

Trussed  to  the  middle  of  her  impudence. 

And  set  his  heart  at  ease  so  !     No,  indeed  ! 

There  's  the  reply  which  he  shall  turn  and  twist 

At  pleasure,  snuff  at  till  his  brain  grow  drunk. 

As  the  bear  does  when  he  finds  a  scented  glove 

That  puzzles  him,  —  a  hand  and  yet  no  hand. 

Of  other  perfume  than  his  own  foul  paw ! 

Last  month,  I  had  doubtless  chosen  to  play  the  dupe, 

Accepted  the  mock-invitation,  kept 

The  sham  appointment,  cudgel  beneath  cloak, 

Prepared  myself  to  puU  the  appointer's  self 

Out  of  the  window  from  his  hiding-place 

Behind  the  gown  of  this  part-messenger 

Part-mistress  who  would  personate  the  wife. 

Such  had  seemed  once  a  jest  permissible : 

Now,  I  am  not  i'  the  mood." 

Back  next  morn  brought 

The  niessenger,  a  second  letter  in  hand. 
"  You  are  cruel,  Thyrsis,  and  MyrtiUa  moans 

Neglected  but  adores  you,  makes  request 

For  mercy  :  why  is  it  you  dare  not  come  ? 

Such  virtue  is  scarce  natural  to  your  age  : 

You  must  love  some  one  else ;  I  hear  you  do. 

The  Baron's  daughter  or  the  Advocate's  wife, 

Or  both,  —  all 's  one,  would  you  make  me  the  third  — 

I  take  the  crumbs  from  table  gratefully 

Nor  grudge  who  feasts  there.     'Faith,  I  blush  and  blaze  ! 

Yet  if  I  break  all  bounds,  there  's  reason  sure. 

Are  you  determinedly  bent  on  Rome  ? 

I  am  wretched  here,  a  monster  tortures  me  : 

Carry  me  with  you  !     Come  and  say  you  will  I 

Concert  this  very  evening  !     Do  not  write  ! 

I  am  ever  at  the  window  of  my  room 

Over  the  terrace,  at  the  Ave.     Come  !  " 


202  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

I  questioned  —  lifting  half  the  woman's  mask 

To  let  her  smile  loose.     "  So,  you  gave  my  line 

To  the  merry  lady  ?  "     "  She  kissed  off  the  wax, 

And  put  what  paper  was  not  kissed  away, 

In  her  bosom  to  go  burn :  but  merry,  no  ! 

She  wept  all  night  when  evening  brought  no  friend. 

Alone,  the  unkind  missive  at  her  breast ; 

Thus  Philomel,  the  thorn  at  her  breast  too, 

Sings  "  .  .  .  "  Writes  this  second  letter  ?  "     "  Even  so ! 

Then  she  may  peep  at  vespers  forth  ?  "  —  "  What  risk 

Do  we  run  o'  the  husband  ?  "  —  "  Ah,  —  no  risk  at  all ! 

He  is  more  stupid  even  than  jealous.     Ah  — 

That  was  the  reason  ?     Why,  the  man 's  away  ! 

Beside,  his  bugbear  is  that  friend  of  yours. 

Fat  little  Canon  Conti.     He  fears  him  — 

How  should  he  dream  of  you  ?     I  told  you  truth : 

He  goes  to  the  villa  at  Vittiano  —  't  is 

The  time  when  Spring-sap  rises  in  the  vine  — 

Spends  the  night  there.     And  then  his  wife  's  a  child : 

Does  he  think  a  child  outwits  him  ?     A  mere  child : 

Yet  so  full-grown,  a  dish  for  any  duke. 

Don't  quarrel  longer  with  such  cates,  but  come  !  " 

I  wrote,  "  In  vain  do  you  solicit  me. 

I  am  a  priest :  and  you  are  wedded  wife. 

Whatever  kind  of  brute  your  husband  prove. 

I  have  scruples,  in  short.     Yet  should  you  really  show 

Sign  at  the  window  .  .  .  but  nay,  best  be  good ! 

My  thoughts  are  elsewhere."  —  "  Take  her  that !  " 

—  "  Agair 
Let  the  incarnate  meanness,  cheat  and  spy, 
Mean  to  the  marrow  of  him,  make  his  heart 
His  food,  anticipate  hell's  worm  once  more ! 
Let  him  watch  shivering  at  the  window  —  ay, 
And  let  this  hybrid,  this  his  light-of-love 
And  lackey-of-lies,  —  a  sage  economy,  — 
Paid  with  embracings  for  the  rank  brass  coin,  — 
Let  her  report  and  make  him  chuckle  o'er 
The  breakdown  of  my  resolution  now, 
And  lour  at  disappointment  in  good  time  ! 
—  So  tantalize  and  so  enrage  by  turns, 
Until  the  two  fall, each  on  the  other  like 
Two  famished  spiders,  as  the  coveted  fly 
That  toys  long,  leaves  their  net  and  them  at  last !  * 

And  so  the  missives  followed  thick  and  fast 
For  a  month,  say,  —  I  still  came  at  every  turn 


GIUSEPPE   CAPONS ACC HI  203 

On  the  soft  sly  adder,  endlong  'neath  my  tread. 
I  was  met  i'  the  street,  made  sign  to  in  the  church, 
A  slip  was  found  i'  the  door-sill,  scribbled  word 
'Twixt  page  and  page  o'  the  prayer-book  in  my  place. 
A  crumpled  thing  dropped  even  before  my  feet. 
Pushed  through  the  blind,  above  the  terrace-rail, 
As  I  passed,  by  day,  the  very  window  once. 
And  ever  from  corners  would  be  peering  up 
The  messenger,  with  the  selfsame  demand, 

"  Obdurate  still,  no  flesh  but  adamant  ? 
Nothing  to  cure  the  wound,  assuage  the  throe 
O'  the  sweetest  lamb  that  ever  loved  a  bear  ?  " 
And  ever  my  one  answer  in  one  tone  — 

"  Go  your  ways,  temptress  !     Let  a  priest  read,  pray, 
Unplagued  of  vain  talk,  visions  not  for  him ! 
In  the  end,  you  '11  have  your  will  and  ruin  me  !  " 

One  day,  a  variation :  thus  I  read : 
"  You  have  gained  little  by  timidity. 
My  husband  has  found  out  my  love  at  length. 
Sees  cousin  Conti  was  the  stalking-horse, 
And  you  the  game  he  covered,  poor  fat  soul ! 
My  husband  is  a  formidable  foe, 
Will  stick  at  nothing  to  destroy  you.     Stand 
Prepared,  or  better,  run  till  you  reach  Kome ! 
I  bade  you  visit  me,  when  the  last  place 
My  tyrant  would  have  turned  suspicious  at, 
Or  cared  to  seek  you  in,  was  .  .  .  why  say,  where  ? 
But  now  all 's  changed  :  beside,  the  season  's  past 
At  the  villa,  —  wants  the  master's  eye  no  more. 
Anyhow,  I  beseech  you,  stay  away 
From  the  window !     He  might  well  be  posted  there." 

I  wrote —  "  Tou  raise  my  courage,  or  call  up 
My  curiosity,  who  am  but  man. 
Tell  him  he  owns  the  palace,  not  the  street 
Under  —  that 's  his  and  yours  and  mine  alike. 
If  it  should  please  me  pad  the  path  this  eve, 
Guido  wiU  have  two  troubles,  first  to  get 
Into  a  rage  and  then  get  out  again. 
Be  cautious,  though :  at  the  Ave  !  " 

You  of  the  court ! 
When  I  stood  question  here  and  reached  this  point 
O'  the  narrative,  —  search  notes  and  see  and  say 
If  some  one  did  not  interpose  with  smile 
And  sneer,  "  And  prithee  why  so  confident 


204        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

That  the  husband  must,  of  all  needs,  not  the  wife, 
Fabricate  thus,  —  what  if  the  lady  loved  ? 
"What  if  she  wrote  the  letters  ?  " 

Learned  Sir, 
I  told  you  there  's  a  picture  in  our  church. 
Well,  if  a  low-browed  verger  sidled  up 
Bringing  me,  Uke  a  blotch,  on  his  prod's  point, 
A  transfixed  scorpion,  let  the  reptile  writhe. 
And  then  said,  "  See  a  thing  that  Rafael  made  — 
This  venom  issued  from  Madonna's  mouth !  " 
I  should  reply,  "  Rather,  the  soul  of  you 
Has  issued  from  your  body,  like  from  like, 
By  way  of  the  ordure-corner  !  " 

But  no  less, 
I  tired  of  the  same  long  black  teasing  lie 
Obtruded  thus  at  every  turn  ;  the  pest 
Was  far  too  near  the  picture,  anyhow  : 
One  does  Madonna  service,  making  clowns 
Remove  their  dung-heap  from  the  sacristy. 
"  I  will  to  the  window,  as  he  tempts,"  said  I : 
"  Yes,  whom  the  easy  love  has  failed  allure, 
This  new  bait  of  adventure  tempts,  —  thinks  he. 
Though  the  imprisoned  lady  keeps  afar, 
There  will  they  lie  in  ambush,  heads  alert, 
Kith,  kin,  and  Count  mustered  to  bite  my  heel. 
No  mother  nor  brother  viper  of  the  brood 
Shall  scuttle  off  without  the  instructive  bruise  !  " 

So,  I  went :  crossed  street  and  street :  "  The  next  street's  turn, 

I  stand  beneath  the  terrace,  se^,  above. 

The  black  of  the  ambush-window.     Then,  in  place 

Of  hand's  throw  of  soft  prelude  over  lute, 

And  cough  that  clears  way  for  the  ditty  last,"  — 

I  began  to  laugh  already  —  "  he  will  have 

'  Out  of  the  hole  you  hide  in,  on  to  the  front, 

Count  Guide  Franceschini,  show  yourself  ! 

Hear  what  a  man  thinks  of  a  thing  like  you. 

And  after,  take  this  foulness  in  your  face ! '  " 

The  words  lay  living  on  my  lip,  I  made 

The  one  turn  more  —  and  there  at  the  window  stood, 

Framed  in  its  black  square  length,  with  lamp  in  hand, 

Pompilia  ;  the  same  great,  grave,  grieflEul  air 

As  stands  i'  the  dusk,  on  altar  that  I  know, 

Left  alone  with  one  moonbeam  in  her  cell. 

Our  Lady  of  all  the  Sorrows.     Ere  I  knelt — 


GIUSEPPE   CAPONSACCm  206 

Assured  myself  that  she  was  flesh  and  blood  — 
She  had  looked  one  look  and  vanished. 

I  thought  —  "  Just  so : 
It  was  herself,  they  have  set  her  there  to  watch  — 
Stationed  to  see  some  wedding-band  go  by, 
On  fair  pretence  that  she  must  bless  the  bride, 
Or  wait  some  funeral  with  friends  wind  past, 
And  crave  peace  for  the  corpse  that  claims  its  due. 
She  never  dreams  they  used  her  for  a  snare. 
And  now  withdraw  the  bait  has  served  its  turn. 
Well  done,  the  husband,  who  shall  fare  the  worse !  " 
And  on  my  lip  again  was  —  "  Out  with  thee, 
Guido  !"     When  all  at  once  she  reappeared; 
But,  this  time,  on  the  terrace  overhead. 
So  close  above  me,  she  could  almost  touch 
My  head  if  she  bent  dowTi ;  and  she  did  bend, 
While  1  stood  stUl  as  stone,  all  eye,  all  ear. 

She  began  —  "  You  have  sent  me  letters.  Sir : 

I  have  read  none,  I  can  neither  read  nor  write ; 

But  she  you  gave  them  to,  a  woman  here. 

One  of  the  people  in  whose  power  I  am, 

Partly  explained  their  sense,  I  think,  to  me 

Obliged  to  listen  while  she  inculcates 

That  you,  a  priest,  can  dare  love  me,  a  wife, 

Desire  to  live  or  die  as  I  shall  bid, 

(She  makes  me  listen  if  I  will  or  no) 

Because  you  saw  my  face  a  single  time. 

It  cannot  be  she  says  the  thing  you  mean ; 

Such  wickedness  were  deadly  to  us  both : 

But  good  true  love  would  help  me  now  so  much  — 

I  tell  myself,  you  may  mean  good  and  true. 

You  offer  me,  I  seem  to  understand. 

Because  I  am  in  poverty  and  starve. 

Much  money,  where  one  piece  would  save  my  life. 

The  silver  cup  upon  the  altar-cloth 

Is  neither  yours  to  give  nor  mine  to  take  ; 

But  I  might  take  one  bit  of  bread  therefrom. 

Since  I  am  starving,  and  return  the  rest. 

Yet  do  no  harm :  this  is  my  very  case. 

I  am  in  that  strait,  I  may  not  dare  abstain 

From  so  much  of  assistance  as  would  bring 

The  guilt  of  theft  on  neither  you  nor  me  ; 

But  no  superfluous  particle  of  aid. 

I  think,  if  you  will  let  me  state  my  case. 

Even  had  you  been  so  fancy-fevered  here, 


206  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Not  your  sound  self,  you  must  grow  healthy  now  -^ 

Care  only  to  bestow  what  I  can  take. 

That  it  is  only  you  in  the  wide  world, 

Knowing  me  nor  in  thought  nor  word  nor  deed. 

Who,  all  unprompted  save  by  your  own  heart, 

Come  proffering  assistance  now,  —  were  strange 

But  that  my  whole  life  is  so  strange  :  as  strange 

It  is,  my  husband  whom  I  have  not  wronged 

Should  hate  and  harm  me.     For  his  own  soul's  sake, 

Hinder  the  harm  !     But  there  is  something  more, 

And  that  the  strangest :  it  has  got  to  be 

Somehow  for  my  sake  too,  and  yet  not  mine, 

—  This  is  a  riddle  —  for  some  kind  of  sake 

Not  any  clearer  to  myself  than  you. 

And  yet  as  certain  as  that  I  draw  breath,  — 

I  would  fain  live,  not  die  —  oh  no,  not  die  ! 

My  case  is,  I  was  dwelling  happily 

At  Rome  with  those  dear  Comparini,  called 

Father  and  mother  to  me  ;  when  at  once 

I  found  I  had  become  Count  Guido's  wife  : 

Who  then,  not  waiting  for  a  moment,  changed 

Into  a  fury  of  fire,  if  once  he  was 

Merely  a  man  :  his  face  threw  fire  at  mine. 

He  laid  a  hand  on  me  that  burned  all  peace, 

All  joy,  all  hope,  and  last  all  fear  away. 

Dipping  the  bough  of  life,  so  pleasant  once. 

In  fire  which  shrivelled  leaf  and  bud  alike, 

Burning  not  only  present  life  but  past. 

Which  you  might  think  was  safe  beyond  his  reach. 

He  reached  it,  though,  since  that  beloved  pair. 

My  father  once,  my  mother  all  those  years. 

That  loved  me  so,  now  say  I  dreamed  a  dream 

And  bid  me  wake,  henceforth  no  child  of  theirs, 

Never  in  all  the  time  their  child  at  all. 

Do  you  understand  ?     I  cannot :  yet  so  it  is. 

Just  so  I  say  of  you  that  proffer  help  : 

I  cannot  understand  what  prompts  your  soul, 

I  simply  needs  must  see  that  it  is  so. 

Only  one  strange  and  wonderful  thing  more. 

They  came  here  with  me,  those  two  dear  ones,  kept 

All  the  old  love  up,  till  my  husband,  till 

His  people  here  so  tortured  them,  they  fled. 

And  now,  is  it  because  I  grow  in  flesh 

And  spirit  one  with  him  their  torturer. 

That  they,  renouncing  him,  must  cast  off  me  ? 

If  I  were  graced  by  God  to  have  a  child, 


GIUSEPPE   CAPONSACCHI  207 

Could  I  one  day  deny  God  graced  me  so  ? 

Then,  since  my  husband  hates  me,  I  shall  break 

No  law  that  reigns  in  this  fell  house  of  hate, 

By  using  —  letting  have  e£Eect  so  much 

Of  hate  as  hides  me  from  that  whole  of  hate 

Would  take  my  life  which  I  want  and  must  have  — 

Just  as  I  take  from  your  excess  of  love 

Enough  to  save  my  life  with,  all  I  need. 

The  Archbishop  said  to  murder  me  were  sin : 

My  leaving  Guido  were  a  kind  of  death 

With  no  sin,  —  more  death,  he  must  answer  for. 

Hear  now  what  death  to  him  and  life  to  you 

I  wish  to  pay  and  owe.     Take  me  to  Rome ! 

You  go  to  Rome,  the  servant  makes  me  hear. 

Take  me  as  you  would  take  a  dog,  I  think, 

Masterless  left  for  strangers  to  maltreat : 

Take  me  home  like  that  —  leave  me  in  the  house 

Where  the  father  and  the  mother  are  ;  and  soon 

They  '11  come  to  know  and  call  me  by  my  name, 

Their  child  once  more,  since  child  I  am,  for  all 

They  now  forget  me,  which  is  the  worst  o'  the  dream  — 

And  the  way  to  end  dreams  is  to  break  them,  stand, 

Walk,  go  :  then  help  me  to  stand,  walk  and  go  ! 

The  Governor  said  the  strong  should  help  the  weak : 

You  know  how  weak  the  strongest  women  are. 

How  could  I  find  my  way  there  by  myself  ? 

I  cannot  even  call  out,  make  them  hear  — 

Just  as  in  dreams  :  I  have  tried  and  proved  the  fact. 

I  have  told  this  story  and  more  to  good  great  men. 

The  Archbishop  and  the  Governor  :  they  smUed. 

'  Stop  your  mouth,  fair  one  ! '  —  presently  they  frowned, 

'  Get  you  gone,  disengage  you  from  our  feet !  ' 
I  went  in  my  despair  to  an  old  priest. 
Only  a  friar,  no  great  man  like  these  two. 
But  good,  the  Augustinian,  people  name 
Romano,  —  he  confessed  me  two  months  since  : 
He  fears  God,  why  then  needs  he  fear  the  world  ? 
And  when  he  questioned  how  it  came  about 
That  I  was  found  in  danger  of  a  sin  — 
Despair  of  any  help  from  providence,  — 

'  Since,  though  your  husband  outrage  you,'  said  he, 

'  That  is  a  case  too  common,  the  wives  die 
Or  live,  but  do  not  sin  so  deep  as  this '  — 
Then  I  told  —  what  I  never  wiU  tell  you  — 
How,  worse  than  husband's  hate,  I  had  to  bear 
The  love,  —  soliciting  to  shame  called  love,  — 


208        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Of  his  brother,  —  the  young  idle  priest  i'  the  house 
With  only  the  devil  to  meet  there.     '  This  is  grave  — 
Yes,  we  must  interfere  :  I  counsel,  —  write 
To  those  who  used  to  be  your  parents  once, 
Of  dangers  here,  bid  them  convey  you  hence ! ' 

'  But,'  said  I,  '  when  I  neither  read  nor  write  ?  ' 
Then  he  took  pity  and  promised  '  I  will  write.' 
If  he  did  so,  —  why,  they  are  dumb  or  dead  : 
Either  they  give  no  credit  to  the  tale, 
Or  else,  wrapped  wholly  up  in  their  own  joy 
Of  such  escape,  they  care  not  who  cries,  still 
I'  the  clutches.     Anyhow,  no  word  arrives. 
All  such  extravagance  and  dreadfulness 
Seems  incident  to  dreaming,  cured  one  way,  — 
Wake  me  !     The  letter  I  received  this  morn. 
Said  —  if  the  woman  spoke  your  very  sense  — 

"•  You  would  die  for  me  : '  I  can  believe  it  now : 
For  now  the  dream  gets  to  involve  yourself. 
First  of  all,  you  seemed  wicked  and  not  good, 
In  writing  me  those  letters  :  you  came  in 
Like  a  thief  upon  me.     I  this  morning  said 
In  my  extremity,  entreat  the  thief ! 
Try  if  he  have  in  him  no  honest  touch  ! 
A  thief  might  save  me  from  a  murderer. 
'T  was  a  thief  said  the  last  kind  word  to  Christ : 
Christ  took  the  kindness  and  forgave  the  theft : 
And  so  did  I  prepare  what  I  now  say. 
But  now,  that  you  stand  and  I  see  your  face, 
Though  you  have  never  uttered  word  yet,  —  well,  I  know, 
Here  too  has  been  dream-work,  delusion  too. 
And  that  at  no  time,  you  with  the  eyes  here, 
Ever  intended  to  do  wrong  by  me, 
Nor  wrote  such  letters  therefore.     It  is  false. 
And  you  are  true,  have  been  true,  will  be  true. 
To  Rome  then,  —  when  is  it  you  take  me  there  ? 
Each  minute  lost  is  mortal.     When  ?  —  I  ask." 

I  answered,  "  It  shall  be  when  it  can  be. 
I  will  go  hence  and  do  your  pleasure,  find 
The  sure  and  speedy  means  of  travel,  then 
Come  back  and  take  you  to  your  friends  in  Bome. 
There  wants  a  carriage,  money  and  the  rest,  — 
A  day's  work  by  to-morrow  at  this  time. 
How  shall  I  see  you  and  assure  escape  ?  " 

She  replied,  "  Pass,  to-morrow  at  this  hour. 
If  I  am  at  the  open  window,  well : 


GIUSEPPE   CAPONSACCHl  209 

If  I  am  absent,  drop  a  handkerchief 

And  walk  by  !     I  shall  see  from  where  I  watch, 

And  know  that  all  is  done.     Return  next  eve, 

And  next,  and  so  till  we  can  meet  and  speak !  " 
"  To-morrow  at  this  hour  I  pass,"  said  I. 

She  was  withdrawn. 

Here  is  another  point 

I  bid  you  pause  at.     When  I  told  thus  far, 

Some  one  said,  subtly,  "  Here  at  least  was  found 

Your  confidence  in  error,  —  you  perceived 

The  spirit  of  the  letters,  in  a  sort, 

Had  been  the  lady's,  if  the  body  should  be 

Supplied  by  Guido  :  say,  he  forged  them  all ! 

Here  was  the  unforged  fact  — she  sent  for  you. 

Spontaneously  elected  you  to  help, 

—  What  men  call,  loved  you :  Guido  read  her  mind, 

Gave  it  expression  to  assure  the  world 

The  case  was  just  as  he  foresaw :  he  wrote. 

She  spoke." 

Sirs,  that  first  simile  serves  still,  — 

That  falsehood  of  a  scorpion  hatched,  I  say. 

Nowhere  i'  the  world  but  in  Madonna's  mouth. 

Go  on  !     Suppose,  that  falsehood  foiled,  next  eve 

Pictured  Madonna  raised  her  painted  hand, 

Fixed  the  face  Rafael  bent  above  the  Babe, 

On  my  face  as  I  flung  me  at  her  feet : 

Such  miracle  vouchsafed  and  manifest, 

Would  that  prove  the  first  lying  tale  was  true  ? 

Pompilia  spoke,  and  I  at  once  received. 

Accepted  my  own  fact,  my  miracle 

Self-authorized  and  self-explained,  —  she  chose 

To  summon  me  and  signify  her  choice. 

Afterward,  —  oh  !  I  gave  a  passing  glance 

To  a  certain  ugly  cloud-shape,  goblin-shred 

Of  hell-smoke  hurrying  past  the  splendid  moon 

Out  now  to  tolerate  no  darkness  more, 

And  saw  right  through  the  thing  that  tried  to  pass 

For  truth  and  solid,  not  an  empty  lie : 
"  So,  he  not  only  forged  the  words  for  her 

But  words  for  me,  made  letters  he  called  mine : 

What  I  sent,  he  retained,  gave  these  in  place, 

AU  by  the  mistress-messenger  !     As  I 

Recognized  her,  at  potency  of  truth. 

So  she,  by  the  crystalline  soul,  knew  me. 

Never  mistook  the  signs.     Enough  of  this  — 

Let  the  wraith  go  to  nothingness  again, 

Here  is  the  orb,  have  only  thought  for  her  !  " 


210  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

"  Thought  ?  "  nay,  Sirs,  what  shall  follow  was  not  thought : 
I  have  thought  sometimes,  and  thought  long  and  hard. 
I  have  stood  before,  gone  round  a  serious  thing, 
Tasked  my  whole  mind  to  touch  and  clasp  it  close, 
As  I  stretch  forth  my  arm  to  touch  this  bar. 
God  and  man,  and  what  duty  I  owe  both,  — 
I  dare  to  say  I  have  confronted  these 
In  thought :  but  no  such  faculty  helped  here. 
I  put  forth  no  thought,  —  powerless,  all  that  night 
I  paced  the  city :  it  was  the  first  Spring. 
By  the  invasion  I  lay  passive  to, 
In  rushed  new  things,  the  old  were  rapt  away ; 
Alike  abolished  —  the  imprisonment 
Of  the  outside  air,  the  inside  weight  o'  the  world 
That  puUed  me  down.     Death  meant,  to  spurn  the  grounc^ 
Soar  to  the  sky,  —  die  well  and  you  do  that. 
The  very  immolation  made  the  bliss ; 
Death  was  the  heart  of  life,  and  all  the  harm 
My  folly  had  crouched  to  avoid,  now  proved  a  veil 
Hiding  all  gain  my  wisdom  strove  to  grasp  : 
As  if  the  intense  centre  of  the  flame 
Should  turn  a  heaven  to  that  devoted  fly 
Which  hitherto,  sophist  alike  and  sage, 
Saint  Thomas  with  his  sober  gray  goose-quill, 
And  sinner  Plato  by  Cephisian  reed. 
Would  fain,  pretending  just  the  insect's  good, 
Whisk  off,  drive  back,  consign  to  shade  again. 
Into  another  state,  under  new  rule 
I  knew  myself  was  passing  swift  and  sure  ; 
Whereof  the  initiatory  pang  approached. 
Felicitous  annoy,  as  bitter-sweet 
As  when  the  virgin-band,  the  victors  chaste, 
Feel  at  the  end  the  earthly  garments  drop. 
And  rise  with  something  of  a  rosy  shame 
Into  immortal  nakedness  :  so  I 
Lay,  and  let  come  the  proper  throe  would  thrill 
Into  the  ecstasy  and  outthrob  pain. 

I'  the  gray  of  dawn  it  was  I  found  myself 
Facing  the  pillared  front  o'  the  Pieve  —  mine. 
My  church  :  it  seemed  to  say  for  the  first  time, 
"  But  am  not  I  the  Bride,  the  mystic  love 
O'  the  Lamb,  who  took  thy  plighted  troth,  my  priest, 
To  fold  thy  warm  heart  on  my  heart  of  stone 
And  freeze  thee  nor  unfasten  any  more  ? 
This  is  a  fleshly  woman,  —  let'  the  free 


GIUSEPPE  CAPON SACCm  211 

Bestow  their  life-blood,  thou  art  pulseless  now !  " 
See !     Day  by  day  I  had  risen  and  left  this  church 
At  the  signal  waved  me  by  some  foolish  fan, 
With  half  a  curse  and  half  a  pitying  smile 
For  the  monk  I  stumbled  over  in  my  haste, 
Prostrate  and  corpse-like  at  the  altar-foot 
Intent  on  his  corona :  then  the  church 
Was  ready  with  her  quip,  if  word  conduced. 
To  quicken  my  pace  nor  stop  for  prating  — "  There  ! 
Be  thankful  you  are  no  such  ninny,  go 
Rather  to  teach  a  black-eyed  novice  cards 
Than  gabble  Latin  and  protrude  that  nose 
Smoothed  to  a  sheep's  through  no  brains  and  much  faith !  * 
That  sort  of  incentive !     Now  the  church  changed  tone  — 
Now,  when  I  found  out  first  that  life  and  death 
Are  means  to  an  end,  that  passion  uses  both, 
Indisputably  mistress  of  the  man 
Whose  form  of  worship  is  self-sacrifice : 
Now,  from  the  stone  lungs  sighed  the  scrannel  voice, 
"  Leave  that  live  passion,  come  be  dead  vdth  me !  " 
As  if,  i'  the  fabled  garden,  I  had  gone 
On  great  adventure,  plucked  in  ignorance 
Hedge-fruit,  and  feasted  to  satiety. 
Laughing  at  such  high  fame  for  hips  and  haws, 
And  scorned  the  achievement :  then  come  all  at  once 
O'  the  prize  o'  the  place,  the  thing  of  perfect  gold, 
The  apple's  self  :  and,  scarce  my  eye  on  that. 
Was  'ware  as  well  o'  the  seven-fold  dragon's  watch. 

Sirs,  I  obeyed.     Obedience  was  too  strange,  — 
This  new  thing  that  had  been  struck  into  me 
By  the  look  o'  the  lady,  —  to  dare  disobey 
The  first  authoritative  word.     'T  was  God's. 
I  had  been  lifted  to  the  level  of  her, 
Could  take  such  sounds  into  my  sense.     I  said, 
"  We  two  are  cognizant  o'  the  Master  now ; 
She  it  is  bids  me  bow  the  head  :  how  true, 
I  am  a  priest !     I  see  the  function  here  ; 
I  thought  the  other  way  self-sacrifice : 
This  is  the  true,  seals  up  the  perfect  sum. 
I  pay  it,  sit  down,  silently  obey." 

So,  I  went  home.     Dawn  broke,  noon  broadened,  I  — 

I  sat  stone-stUl,  let  time  run  over  me. 

The  sun  slanted  into  my  room,  had  reached 

The  west.     I  opened  book,  —  Aquinas  blazed 


212  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

With  one  black  name  only  on  the  white  page. 
I  looked  up,  saw  the  sunset :  vespers  rang : 
"  She  counts  the  minutes  tiU  I  keep  my  word 
And  come  say  all  is  ready.     I  am  a  priest. 
Duty  to  God  is  duty  to  her  :    I  think 
God,  who  created  her,  will  save  her  too 
Some  new  way,  by  one  miracle  the  piore, 
Without  me.     Then,  prayer  may  avail  perhaps." 
I  went  to  my  own  place  i'  the  Pieve,  read 
The  office  :    I  was  back  at  home  again 
Sitting  i'  the  dark.     "  Gould  she  but  know  —  but  know 
That,  were  there  good  in  this  distinct  from  God's, 
Really  good  as  it  reached  her,  though  procured 
By  a  sin  of  mine,  —  I  should  sin  :    God  forgives. 
She  knows  it  is  no  fear  withholds  me  :  fear  ? 
Of  what  ?     Suspense  here  is  the  terrible  thing. 
If  she  should,  as  she  counts  the  minutes,  come 
On  the  fantastic  notion  that  I  fear 
The  world  now,  fear  the  Archbishop,  fear  perhaps 
Count  Guido,  he  who,  having  forged  the  lies. 
May  wait  the  work,  attend  the  effect,  —  I  fear 
The  sword  of  Guido !     Let  God  see  to  that  — 
Hating  lies,  let  not  her  believe  a  lie  !  " 

Again  the  morning  found  me.     "  I  will  work. 

Tie  down  my  foolish  thoughts.     Thank  God  so  far ! 

I  have  saved  her  from  a  scandal,  stopped  the  tongues 

Had  broken  else  into  a  cackle  and  hiss 

Around  the  noble  name.     Duty  is  stiU 

Wisdom  :    I  have  been  wise."     So  the  day  wore. 

At  evening  —  "  But,  achieving  victory, 

I  must  not  blink  the  priest's  peculiar  part, 

Nor  shrink  to  counsel,  comfort :  priest  and  friend  — 

How  do  we  discontinue  to  be  friends  ? 

I  will  go  minister,  advise  her  seek 

Help  at  the  source,  —  above  all,  not  despair : 

There  may  be  other  happier  help  at  hand. 

I  hope  it,  —  wherefore  then  neglect  to  say  ?  " 

There  she  stood  —  leaned  there,  for  the  second  time, 
Over  the  terrace,  looked  at  me,  then  spoke  : 
"  Why  is  it  you  have  suffered  me  to  stay 
Breaking  my  heart  two  days  more  than  was  need  ? 
Why  delay  help,  your  own  heart  yearns  to  give  ? 
You  are  again  here,  in  the  selfsame  mind, 


GIUSEPPE   CAPONSACCHI  213 

I  see  here,  steadfast  in  the  face  of  you,  — 

You  grudge  to  do  no  one  thing  that  I  ask. 

Why  then  is  nothing  done  ?     You  know  my  need. 

Still,  through  God's  pity  on  me,  there  is  time 

And  one  day  more  :  shall  I  he  saved  or  no  ?  " 

I  answered  —  "  Lady,  waste  no  thought,  no  word 

Even  to  forgive  me  !     Care  for  what  I  care  — 

Only  !     Now  follow  me  as  I  were  fate ! 

Leave  this  house  in  the  dark  to-morrow  night. 

Just  hef ore  daybreak  :  —  there  's  new  moon  this  eve  — 

It  sets,  and  then  begins  the  solid  black. 

Descend,  proceed  to  the  Torrione,  step 

Over  the  low  dilapidated  wall, 

Take  San  Clemente,  there  's  no  other  gate 

Unguarded  at  the  hour :  some  paces  thence 

An  inn  stands ;  cross  to  it ;  I  shall  be  there." 

She  answered,  "  If  I  can  but  find  the  way. 
But  I  shall  find  it.     Go  now  !  " 

I  did  go, 
Took  rapidly  the  route  myself  prescribed. 
Stopped  at  Torrione,  climbed  the  ruined  place, 
Proved  that  the  gate  was  practicable,  reached 
The  inn,  no  eye,  despite  the  dark,  could  miss. 
Knocked  there  and  entered,  made  the  host  secure  : 
"  With  Caponsaechi  it  is  ask  and  have  ; 
I  know  my  betters.     Are  you  bound  for  Rome  ? 
I  get  swift  horse  and  trusty  man,"  said  he. 

Then  I  retraced  my  steps,  was  found  once  more 

In  my  own  house  for  the  last  time :  there  lay 

The  broad  pale  opened  "  Summa."     "  Shut  his  book, 

There  's  other  showing  !     'T  was  a  Thomas  too 

Obtained,  —  more  favored  than  his  namesake  here,  — 

A  gift,  tied  faith  fast,  foiled  the  tug  of  doubt,  — 

Our  Lady's  girdle ;  down  he  saw  it  drop 

^s  she  ascended  into  heaven,  they  say : 

He  kept  that  safe  and  bade  all  doubt  adieu. 

I  too  have  seen  a  lady  and  hold  a  grace." 

I  know  not  how  the  night  passed  :  morning  broke, 
Presently  came  my  servant.     "  Sir,  this  eve  — 
Do  you  forget  ?  "     I  started.       "  How  forget  ? 
What  is  it  you  know  ?  "       "  With  due  submission,  Sir, 
This  being  last  Monday  in  the  month  but  one, 


214  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  a  vigil,  since  to-morrow  is  Saint  George, 
And  feast-day,  and  moreover  day  for  copes, 
And  Canon  Conti  now  away  a  month. 
And  Canon  Crispi  sour  because,  forsooth. 
You  let  him  sulk  in  stall  and  bear  the  brunt 
Of  the  octave.  .  .  .  WeU,  Sir,  't  is  important !  " 

"Truel 
Hearken,  I  have  to  start  for  Rome  this  night. 
No  word,  lest  Crispi  overboil  and  burst ! 
Provide  me  with  a  laic  dress  !     Throw  dust 
I'  the  Canon's  eye.  stop  his  tongue's  scandal  so ! 
See  there 's  a  sword  in  case  of  accident." 
I  knew  the  knave,  the  knave  knew  me. 

And  thus 
Through  each  familiar  hindrance  of  the  day 
Did  I  make  steadily  for  its  hour  and  end,  — 
Felt  time's  old  barrier-growth  of  right  and  fit 
Give  way  through  all  its  twines,  and  let  me  go. 
Use  and  wont  recognized  the  excepted  man. 
Let  speed  the  special  service,  —  and  I  sped 
Till,  at  the  dead  between  midnight  and  morn, 
There  was  I  at  the  goal,  before  the  gate,   , 
With  a  tune  in  the  ears,  low  leading  up  to  loud, 
A  light  in  the  eyes,  faint  that  would  soon  be  flare, 
Ever  some  spiritual  witness  new  and  new 
In  faster  frequence,  crowding  solitude 
To  watch  the  way  o'  the  warfare,  —  till,  at  last. 
When  the  ecstatic  minute  must  bring  birth. 
Began  a  whiteness  in  the  distance,  waxed 
Whiter  and  whiter,  near  grew  and  more  near. 
Till  it  was  she  :  there  did  Pompilia  come : 
The  white  I  saw  shine  through  her  was  her  soul's. 
Certainly,  for  the  body  was  one  black. 
Black  from  head  down  to  foot.     She  did  not  speak, 
Glided  into  the  carriage,  —  so  a  cloud 
Gathers  the  moon  up.     "  By  San  Spirito, 
To  Eome,  as  if  the  road  burned  underneath  ! 
Reach  Rome,  then  hold  my  head  in  pledge,  I  pay 
The  run  and  the  risk  to  heart's  content !  "     Just  that, 
I  said,  —  then,  in  another  tick  of  time, 
Sprang,  was  beside  her,  she  and  I  alone. 

So  it  began,  our  flight  through  dusk  to  clear, 
Through  day  and  night  and  day  again  to  night 
Once  more,  and  to  last  dreadful  dawn  of  all. 


GIUSEPPE   CAPONSACCHI  215 

Sirs,  how  should  I  lie  quiet  in  my  grave 

Unless  you  suffer  me  wring,  drop  by  drop, 

My  brain  dry,  make  a  riddance  of  the  drench 

Of  minutes  with  a  memory  in  each, 

Recorded  motion,  breath  or  look  of  hers. 

Which  poured  forth  would  present  you  one  pure  glass, 

Mirror  you  plain,  —  as  God's  sea,  glassed  in  gold, 

His  saints,  —  the  perfect  soul  Pompilia  ?     Men, 

You  must  know  that  a  man  gets  drunk  with  truth 

Stagnant  inside  him  !     Oh,  they  've  killed  her,  Sirs  ! 

Can  I  be  calm  ? 

Calmly  !     Each  incident 
Proves,  I  maintain,  that  action  of  the  flight 
For  the  true  thing  it  was.     The  first  faint  scratch 
O'  the  stone  will  test  its  nature,  teach  its  worth 
To  idiots  who  name  Parian  —  coprohte. 
After  all,  I  shall  give  no  glare  —  at  best 
Only  display  you  certain  scattered  lights 
Lamping  the  rush  and  roll  of  the  abyss  : 
Nothing  but  here  and  there  a  fire-point  pricks 
Wavelet  from  wavelet :  well ! 

For  the  first  hour 
We  both  were  silent  in  the  night,  I  know  : 
Sometimes  I  did  not  see  nor  understand. 
Blackness  enguKpd  me,  —  partial  stupor,  say  — 
Then  I  would  break  way,  breathe  through  the  surprise, 
And  be  aware  again,  and  see  who  sat 
In  the  dark  vest  with  the  white  face  and  hands. 
I  said  to  myself  —  "I  have  caught  it,  I  conceive 
The  mind  o'  the  mystery  :  't  is  the  way  they  wake 
And  wait,  two  martyrs  somewhere  in  a  tomb 
Each  by  each  as  their  blessiag  was  to  die ;  _^ 
Some  signal  they  are  promised  and  expect,  — 
When  to  arise  before  the  trumpet  scares : 
So,  through  the  whole  course  of  the  world  they  wait 
The  last  day,  but  so  fearless  and  so  safe  ! 
No  otherwise,  in  safety  and  not  fear, 
I  lie,  because  she  lies  too  by  my  side." 
You  know  this  is  not  love.  Sirs,  —  it  is  faith. 
The  feeling  that  there  's  God,  he  reigns  and  rules 
Out  of  this  low  world  :  that  is  all ;  no  harm  ! 
At  times  she  drew  a  soft  sigh  —  music  seemed 
Always  to  hover  just  above  her  lips. 
Not  settle,  —  break  a  silence  music  too. 

In  the  determined  morning,  I  first  found 
Her  head  erect,  her  face  turned  full  to  me. 


216  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Her  soul  intent  on  mine  through  two  wide  eyes. 

I  answered  them.     "  You  are  saved  hitherto. 

We  have  passed  Perugia,  —  gone  round  by  the  wood, 

Not  through,  I  seem  to  think,  —  and  opposite 

I  know  Assisi ;  this  is  holy  ground." 

Then  she  resumed.     "  How  long  since  we  both  left 

Arezzo  ?  "  —  "  Years  —  and  certain  hours  beside." 

It  was  at  .  .  .  ah,  but  I  forget  the  names  ! 
'T  is  a  mere  post-house  and  a  hovel  or  two  ; 
I  left  the  carriage  and  got  bread  and  wine 
And  brought  it  her.  —  "  Does  it  detain  to  eat  ?  " 
"  —  They  stay  perforce,  change  horses,  —  therefore  eat ! 
We  lose  no  minute :  we  arrive,  be  sure  !  " 
This  was . —  I  know  not  where  —  there  's  a  great  hiU 
Close  over,  and  the  stream  has  lost  its  bridge, 
One  fords  it.     She  began  —  "I  have  heard  say 
Of  some  sick  body  that  my  mother  knew, 
'T  was  no  good  sign  when  in  a  limb  diseased 
AU  the  pain  suddenly  departs,  —  as  if 
The  guardian  angel  discontinued  pain 
Because  the  hope  of  cure  was  gone  at  last : 
The  limb  will  not  again  exert  itself, 
It  needs  be  pained  no  longer :  so  with  me, 
—  My  soul  whence  all  the  pain  is  past  at  once : 
All  pain  must  be  to  work  some  good  in  the  end. 
True,  this  I  feel  now,  this  may  be  that  good, 
Pain  was  because  of,  —  otherwise,  I  fear !  " 

She  said,  —  a  long  while  later  in  the  day, 
When  I  had  let  the  silence  be,  —  abrupt  — 
"  Have  you  a  mother  ?  "       "  She  died,  I  was  born." 
"  A  sister  then  ?  "       "  No  sister."       "  Who  was  it  — 
What  woman  were  you  used  to  serve  this  way. 
Be  kind  to,  till  I  called  you  and  you  came  ?  " 
I  did  not  like  that  word.     Soon  afterward  — 
"  Tell  me,  are  men  unhappy,  in  some  kind 
Of  mere  unhappiness  at  being  men, 
As  women  suffer,  being  womanish  ? 
Have  you,  now,  some  unhappiness,  I  mean. 
Born  of  what  may  be  man's  strength  overmuch, 
To  match  the  undue  susceptibility. 
The  sense  at  every  pore  when  hate  is  close  ? 
It  hurts  us  if  a  baby  hides  its  face 
Or  child  strikes  at  us  punily,  calls  names 
Or  makes  a  mouth,  —  much  more  if  stranger  men 


GIUSEPPE  CAPONSACCHl  217 

Laugh  or  frown,  —  just  as  that  were  much  to  bear ! 
Yet  rocks  split,  —  and  the  blow-ball  does  no  more, 
Quivers  to  feathery  nothing  at  a  touch  ; 
And  strength  may  have  its  drawback,  weakness  'scapes." 

Once  she  asked,  "  What  is  it  that  made  you  smile. 
At  the  great  gate  with  the  eagles  and  the  snakes, 
"Where  the  company  entered,  't  is  a  long  time  since  ?  " 
"  —  Forgive  —  I  think  you  would  not  understand : 
Ah,  but  you  ask  me,  —  therefore,  it  was  this. 
That  was  a  certain  bishop's  villa-gate, 
I  knew  it  by  the  eagles,  —  and  at  once 
Remembered  this  same  bishop  was  just  he 
People  of  old  were  wont  to  bid  me  please 
If  I  would  catch  preferment :  so,  I  smiled 
Because  an  impulse  came  to  me,  a  whim  — 
What  if  I  prayed  the  prelate  leave  to  speak, 
Began  upon  him  in  his  presence-hall 
— '  What,  still  at  work  so  gray  and  obsolete  ? 
Still  rocheted  and  mitred  more  or  less  ? 
Don't  you  feel  all  that  out  of  fashion  now  ? 
I  find  out  when  the  day  of  things  is  done  ! '  " 

At  eve  we  heard  the  angelus :  she  turned  — 
"  I  told  you  I  can  neither  read  nor  write. 
My  life  stopped  with  the  play-time  ;  I  wiU  learn, 
If  I  begin  to  live  again  :  but  you  — 
Who  are  a  priest  —  wherefore  do  you  not  read 
The  service  at  this  hour  ?     Read  Gabriel's  song, 
The  lesson,  and  then  read  the  little  prayer 
To  Raphael,  proper  for  us  travellers  !  " 
I  did  not  like  that,  neither,  but  I  read. 

When  we  stopped  at  Foligno  it  was  dark. 

The  people  of  the  post  came  out  with  lights  : 

The  driver  said,  "  This  time  to-morrow,  may 

Saints  only  help,  relays  continue  good. 

Nor  robbers  hinder,  we  arrive  at  Rome." 

I  urged,  —  "  Why  tax  your  strength  a  second  night  ? 

Trust  me,  alight  here  and  take  brief  repose  ! 

We  are  out  of  harm's  reach,  past  pursuit :  go  sleep 

If  but  an  hour  !     I  keep  watch,  guard  the  while 

Here  in  the  doorway."     But  her  whole  face  changed, 

The  misery  grew  again  about  her  mouth. 

The  eyes  burned  up  from  faintness,  like  the  fawn's 

Tired  to  death  in  the  thicket,  when  she  feels 


218  THE  RING  AND   THE' BOOK 

The  probing  spear  o'  the  huntsman.  "  Oh,  no  stay !  " 
She  cried,  in  the  fawn's  cry,  "  On  to  Rome,  on,  on  — 
Unless  't  is  you  who  fear,  —  which  cannot  be !  " 

We  did  go  on  all  night ;  but  at  its  close 
She  was  troubled,  restless,  moaned  low,  tallf^d  at  whiles 
To  herself,  her  brow  on  quiver  with  the  dream  : 
Once,  wide  awake,  she  menaced,  at  arms'  length 
Waved  away  something  —  "  Never  again  with  you ! 
My  soul  is  mine,  my  body  is  my  soul's  : 
You  and  I  are  divided  ever  more 
In  soul  and  body :  get  you  gone !  "     Then  I  — 
6«  Why,  in  my  whole  life  I  have  never  prayed ! 
Oh,  if  the  God,  that  only  can,  would  help  ! 
Am  I  his  priest  with  power  to  cast  out  fiends  ? 
Let  God  arise  and  all  his  enemies 
Be  scattered !  "     By  morn,  there  was  peace,  no  sigh 
Out  of  the  deep  sleep. 

When  she  woke  at  last, 
I  answered  the  first  look  —  "  Scarce  twelve  hours  more, 
Then,  Rome  !     There  probably  was  no  pursuit, 
There  cannot  now  be  peril :  bear  up  brave  ! 
Just  some  twelve  hours  to  press  through  to  the  prize  : 
Then,  no  more  of  the  terrible  journey  !  "     "  Then, 
No  more  o'  the  journey :  if  it  might  but  last ! 
Always,  my  life-long,  thus  to  journey  still ! 
It  is  the  interruption  that  I  dread,  — 
With  no  dread,  ever  to  be  here  and  thus  ! 
Never  to  see  a  face  nor  hear  a  voice  ! 
Yours  is  no  voice ;  you  speak  when  you  are  dumb  ; 
Nor  face,  I  see  it  in  the  dark.     I  want 
No  face  nor  voice  that  change  and  grow  unkind." 
That  I  liked,  that  was  the  best  thing  she  said. 

In  the  broad  day,  I  dared  entreat,  "  Descend !  " 
I  told  a  woman,  at  the  garden-gate 
By  the  post-house,  white  and  pleasant  in  the  sun, 
*'It  is  my  sister,  — talk  vnth  her  apart ! 
She  is  married  and  unhappy,  you  perceive ; 
I  take  her  home  because  her  head  is  hurt ; 
Comfort  her  as  you  women  understand  !  " 
So,  there  I  left  them  by  the  garden-wall. 
Paced  the  road,  then  bade  put  the  horses  to. 
Came  back,  and  there  she  sat :  close  to  her  knee, 
A  black-eyed  child  still  held  the  bowl  of  mUk, 


GIUSEPPE   CAPONSACCHI  219 

Wondered  to  see  how  little  she  could  drink, 
And  in  her  arms  the  woman's  infant  lay. 
She  smiled  at  me,  "How  much  good  this  has  done! 
This  is  a  whole  night's  rest  and  how  much  more ! 
I  can  proceed  now,  though  I  wish  to  stay. 
How  do  you  call  that  tree  with  the  thick  top 
That  holds  in  all  its  leafy  green  and  gold 
The  sun  now  like  an  immense  egg  of  fire  ?  " 
(It  was  a  million-leaved  mimosa.)     "  Take 
The  bahe  away  from  me  and  let  me  go  !  " 
And  in  the  carriage,  "  Still  a  day,  my  friend ! 
And  perhaps  half  a  night,  the  woman  fears. 
I  pray  it  fijaish  since  it  cannot  last. 
There  may  be  more  misfortune  at  the  close. 
And  where  wiU  you  be  ?     God  suffice  me  then ! " 
And  presently  —  for  there  was  a  roadside-shriae  — 
"  When  I  was  taken  first  to  my  own  church 
Lorenzo  in  Lucina,  being  a  girl. 
And  bid  confess  my  faults,  I  interposed 
'  But  teach  me  what  fault  to  confess  and  know ! ' 
So,  the  priest  said  — '  You  should  bethink  yourself  s 
Each  human  being  needs  must  have  done  wrong  ! ' 
Now,  be  you  candid  and  no  priest  but  friend  — 
Were  I  surprised  and  killed  here  on  the  spot, 
A  runaway  from  husband  and  his  home. 
Do  you  account  it  were  in  sin  I  died  ? 
My  husband  used  to  seem  to  harm  me,  not  .  .  . 
Not  on  pretence  he  punished  sin  of  mine, 
Nor  for  sin's  sake  and  lust  of  cruelty. 
But  as  I  heard  him  bid  a  farming-man 
At  the  villa  take  a  lamb  once  to  the  wood 
And  there  ill-treat  it,  meaning  that  the  wolf 
Should  hear  its  cries,  and  so  come,  quick  be  caught, 
Enticed  to  the  trap :   he  practised  thus  with  me 
That  so,  whatever  were  his  gain  thereby. 
Others  than  I  might  become  prey  and  spoil. 
Had  it  been  only  between  our  two  selves,  — 
His  pleasure  and  my  pain,  —  why,  pleasure  him 
By  dying,  nor  such  need  to  make  a  coil ! 
But  this  was  worth  an  effort,  that  my  pain 
Should  not  become  a  snare,  prove  pain  threefold 
To  other  people  —  strangers  —  or  unborn  — 
How  shoold  I  know?    I  sought  release  from  that — 
I  think,  or  else  from,  —  dare  I  say,  some  cause 
Such  as  is  put  into  a  tree,  which  turns 
Away  from  the  north  wind  with  what  nest  it  holds,  — 


220  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  woman  said  that  trees  so  turn  :  now,  friend, 

Tell  me,  because  I  cannot  trust  myself  ! 

You  are  a  man :  what  have  I  done  amiss  ?  " 

You  must  conceive  my  answer,  —  I  forget  — 

Taken  up  wholly  with  the  thought,  perhaps. 

This  time  she  might  have  said,  —  might,  did  not  say  — 
"  You  are  a  priest."     She  said,  "  my  friend." 

Day  wore, 

We  passed  the  places,  somehow  the  calm  went, 

Again  the  restless  eyes  began  to  rove 

In  new  fear  of  the  foe  mine  could  not  see. 

She  wandered  in  her  mind,  —  addressed  me  once 
"  Gaetano  !  "  —  that  is  not  my  name  :  whose  name  ? 

I  grew  alarmed,  my  head  seemed  turning  too. 

I  quickened  pace  with  promise  now,  now  threat : 

Bade  drive  and  drive,  nor  any  stopping  more. 
"  Too  deep  i'  the  thick  of  the  struggle,  struggle  through ! 

Then  drench  her  in  repose  though  death's  self  pour 

The  plenitude  of  quiet,  —  help  us,  God, 

Whom  the  winds  carry !  " 

Suddenly  I  saw 
The  old  tower,  and  the  little  white-walled  clump 
Of  buildings  and  the  C3rpress-tree  or  two,  — 
"  Already  Castelnuovo  —  Borne  !  "  I  cried, 
"  As  good  as  Rome,  —  Rome  is  the  next  stage,  think ! 
This  is  where  travellers'  hearts  are  wont  to  beat. 
Say  you  are  saved,  sweet  lady  !  "     Up  she  woke. 
The  sky  was  fierce  with  color  from  the  sun 
Setting.     She  screamed  out,  "  No,  I  must  not  die  ! 
Take  me  no  farther,  I  should  die  :  stay  here  ! 
I  have  more  life  to  save  than  mine !  " 

She  swooned. 
We  seemed  safe  :  what  was  it  foreboded  so  ? 
Out  of  the  coach  into  the  inn  I  bore 
The  motionless  and  breathless  pure  and  pale 
Pompilia,  —  bore  her  through  a  pitying  group 
And  laid  her  on  a  couch,  still  calm  and  cured 
By  deep  sleep  of  all  woes  at  once.     The  host 
Was  urgent,  "  Let  her  stay  an  hour  or  two ! 
Leave  her  to  us,  all  will  be  right  by  morn !  " 
Oh,  my  foreboding !     But  I  could  not  choose. 

I  paced  the  passage,  kept  watch  all  night  long. 
I  listened,  —  not  one  movement,  not  one  sigh. 
"  Fear  not :  she  sleeps  so  sound  !  "  they  said  :  but  I 


GIUSEPPE  CAPONSACCHI  221 

Feared,  all  the  same,  kept  fearing  more  and  more, 

Found  myself  throb  with  fear  from  head  to  foot. 

Filled  with  a  sense  of  such  impending  woe, 

That,  at  first  pause  of  night,  pretence  of  gray, 

I  made  my  mind  up  it  was  morn.  —  "  Reach  Borne, 

Lest  hell  reach  her  !     A  dozen  miles  to  make, 

Another  long  breath,  and  we  emerge  !  "     I  stood 

I'  the  courtyard,  roused  the  sleepy  grooms.     "  Have  out 

Carriage  and  horse,  give  haste,  take  gold  ! "  said  I. 

While  they  made  ready  in  the  doubtful  morn,  — 

'T  was  the  last  minute,  —  needs  must  I  ascend 

And  break  her  sleep  ;  I  turned  to  go. 

And  there 
Faced  me  Count  Guido,  there  posed  the  mean  man 
As  master,  —  took  the  field,  encamped  his  rights, 
Challenged  the  world  :  there  leered  new  triumph,  there 
Scowled  the  old  malice  in  the  visage  bad 
And  black  o'  the  scamp.     Soon  triumph  suppled  the  tongue 
A  little,  malice  glued  to  his  dry  throat, 
And  he  part  howled,  part  hissed  .  .  .  oh,  how  he  kept 
Well  out  o'  the  way,  at  arm's  length  and  to  spare !  — 

"  My  salutation  to  your  priestship  !     What  ? 
Matutinal,  busy  with  book  so  soon 
Of  an  April  day  that 's  damp  as  tears  that  now 
Deluge  Arezzo  at  its  darling's  flight  ?  — 
'T  is  unfair,  wrongs  feminity  at  large. 
To  let  a  single  dame  monopolize 
A  heart  the  whole  sex  claims,  shovdd  share  alike  : 
Therefore  I  overtake  you,  Canon !     Come  ! 
The  lady,  —  could  you  leave  her  side  so  soon  ? 
You  have  not  yet  experienced  at  her  hands 
My  treatment,  you  lay  down  undrugged,  I  see  ! 
Hence  this  alertness  —  hence  no  death-in-life 
Like  what  held  arms  fast  when  she  stole  from  mine. 
To  be  sure,  you  took  the  solace  and  repose 
That  first  night  at  Foligno  !  — news  abound 
O'  the  road  by  this  time,  —  men  regaled  me  much, 
As  past  them  I  came  halting  after  you, 
Vulcan  pursuing  Mars,  as  poets  sing,  — 
Still  at  the  last  here  pant  I,  but  arrive, 
Vulcan  —  and  not  without  my  Cyclops  too. 
The  Commissary  and  the  unpoisoned  arm 
O'  the  Civil  Force,  should  Mars  turn  mutineer. 
Enough  of  fooling  :  capture  the  culprits,  friend ! 
Here  is  the  lover  in  the  smart  disguise 
With  the  sword,  —  he  is  a  priest,  so  mine  lies  stilL 


222        THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

There  upstairs  hides  my  wife  the  runaway, 
His  leman :  the  two  plotted,  poisoned  first, 
Plundered  me  after,  and  eloped  thus  far 
Where  now  you  find  them.     Do  your  duty  quick  ! 
Arrest  and  hold  him  !     That 's  done  :  now  catch  her  ! " 
During  this  speech  of  that  man,  —  well,  I  stood 
Away,  as  he  managed,  —  still,  I  stood  as  near 
The  throat  of  him,  —  with  these  two  hands,  my  own,  — 
As  now  I  stand  near  yours,  Sir,  —  one  quick  spring, 
One  great  good  satisfying  gripe,  and  lo ! 
There  had  he  lain  abolished  with  his  lie, 
Creation  purged  o'  the  miscreate,  man  redeemed, 
A  spittle  wiped  ofiE  from  the  face  of  God  1 
I,  in  some  measure,  seek  a  poor  excuse 
For  what  I  left  undone,  in  just  this  fact 
That  my  first  feeling  at  the  speech  I  quote 
Was  —  not  of  what  a  blasphemy  was  dared, 
Not  what  a  bag  of  venomed  purulence 
Was  split  and  noisome,  —  but  how  splendidly 
Mirthful,  how  ludicrous  a  lie  was  launched  ! 
Would  Moliere's  self  wish  more  than  hear  such  man 
Call,  claim  such  woman  for  his  own,  his  wife, 
Even  though,  in  due  amazement  at  the  boast. 
He  had  stammered,  she  moreover  was  divine  ? 
She  to  be  his,  —  were  hardly  less  absurd 
Than  that  he  took  her  name  into  his  mouth, 
Licked,  and  then  let  it  go  again,  the  b'^ast. 
Signed  with  his  slaver.     Oh,  she  poisoned  him. 
Plundered  him,  and  the  rest !    Well,  what  I  wished 
Was,  that  he  would  but  go  on,  sa^  once  more 
So  to  the  world,  and  get  his  meed  of  men, 
The  fist's  reply  to  the  filth.     And  while  I  mused. 
The  minute,  oh  the  misery,  was  gone ! 
On  either  idle  hand  of  me  there  stood 
Really  an  officer,  nor  laughed  i'  the  least : 
Nay,  rendered  justice  to  his  reason,  laid 
Logic  to  heart,  as  't  were  submitted  them 
"  Twice  two  makes  four." 

"And  now,  catch  her !  "  —  he  cried. 
That  sobered  me.     "  Let  myself  lead  the  way  — 
Ere  you  arrest  me,  who  am  somebody. 
Being,  as  you  hear,  a  priest  and  privileged, — 
To  the  lady's  chamber !     I  presume  you  —  men 
Expert,  instructed  how  to  find  out  truth. 
Familiar  with  the  guise  of  guilt.     Detect 
Guilt  on  her  face  when  it  meets  mine,  then  judge 


GIUSEPPE  CAPONSACCHI  228 

Between  us  and  the  mad  dog  howling  there !  " 
Up  we  all  went  together,  in  they  broke 
O'  the  chamber  late  my  chapel.     There  she  lay, 
Composed  as  when  I  laid  her,  that  last  eve, 
O'  the  couch,  stiU  breathless,  motionless,  sleep's  self, 
Wax-white,  seraphic,  saturate  with  the  sun 
O'  the  morning  that  now  flooded  from  the  front 
And  filled  the  window  with  a  light  like  blood. 
"  Behold  the  poisoner,  the  adulteress, 
— And  feigning  sleep  too  !     Seize,  bind ! "  Guido  hissed. 

She  started  up,  stood  erect,  face  to  face 

With  the  husband  :  back  he  fell,  was  buttressed  there 

By  the  window  all  aflame  with  morning-red, 

He  the  black  figure,  the  opprobrious  blur 

Against  all  peace  and  joy  and  light  and  life. 

"  Away  from  between  me  and  hell !  "  she  cried : 

"  Hell  for  me,  no  embracing  any  more  ! 
I  am  God's,  I  love  God,  God  —  whose  knees  I  clasp, 
Whose  utterly  most  just  award  I  take. 
But  bear  no  more  love-making  devils :  hence !  " 
I  may  have  made  an  effort  to  reach  her  side 
From  where  I  stood  i'  the  doorway,  —  anyhow 
I  found  the  arms,  I  wanted,  pinioned  fast, 
Was  powerless  in  the  clutch  to  left  and  right 
O'  the  rabble  pouring  in,  rascality 
Enlisted,  rampant  on  the  side  of  hearth, 
Home  and  the  husband,  —  pay  in  prospect  too ! 
They  heaped  themselves  upon  me.       "  Ha  !  —  and  him 
Also  you  outrage  ?     Him,  too,  my  sole  friend. 
Guardian  and  savior  ?     That  I  balk  you  of. 
Since  —  see  how  God  can  help  at  last  and  worst !  " 
She  sprang  at  the  sword  that  hung  beside  him,  seized, 
Drew,  brandished  it,  the  sunrise  burned  for  joy 
O'  the  blade,  "  Die,"  cried  she,  "devil,  in  God's  name!  " 
Ah,  but  they  all  closed  round  her,  twelve  to  one 
■ — ■  The  unmanly  men,  no  woman-mother  made, 
Spawned  somehow !     Dead-white  and  disarmed  she  lay. 
No  matter  for  the  sword,  her  word  sufficed 
To  spike  the  coward  through  and  through :  he  shook. 
Could  only  spit  between  the  teeth  —  "  You  see  ? 
You  hear  ?  Bear  witness,  then !  Write  down  .  .  .  but  no  — ' 
Carry  these  criminals  to  the  prison-house, 
For  first  thing  !     I  begin  my  search  meanwhile 
After  the  stolen  effects,  gold,  jewels,  plate, 
Money  and  clothes,  they  robbed  me  of  and  fled, 


224  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

With  no  few  amorous  pieces,  verse  and  prose, 
I  have  much  reason  to  expect  to  find." 

When  I  saw  that  —  no  more  than  the  first  mad  speech, 

Made  out  the  speaker  mad  and  a  laughing-stock, 

So  neither  did  this  next  device  explode 

One  listener's  indignation,  —  that  a  scribe 

Did  sit  down  ;  set  himself  to  write  indeed, 

While  sundry  knaves  began  to  peer  and  pry 

In  corner  and  hole,  —  that  Guido,  wiping  brow 

And  getting  him  a  countenance,  was  fast 

Losing  his  fear,  beginning  to  strut  free 

O'  the  stage  of  his  exploit,  snuff  here,  sniff  there, '"-' 

Then  I  took  truth  in,  guessed  sufficiently 

The  service  for  the  moment.     "  What  I  say, 

Slight  at  your  peril !     We  are  aliens  here. 

My  adversary  and  I,  called  noble  both ; 

I  am  the  nobler,  and  a  name  men  know. 

I  could  refer  our  cause  to  our  own  court 

In  our  own  country,  but  prefer  appeal 

To  the  nearer  jurisdiction.     Being  a  priest. 

Though  in  a  secular  garb,  —  for  reasons  good 

I  shall  adduce  in  due  time  to  my  peers,  — 

I  demand  that  the  Church  I  serve,  decide 

Between  us,  right  the  slandered  lady  there. 

A  Tuscan  noble,  I  might  claim  the  Duke : 

A  priest,  I  rather  choose  the  Church,  —  bid  Bome 

Cover  the  wronged  with  her  inviolate  shield." 

There  was  no  refusing  this  :  they  bore  me  off, 

They  bore  her  off,  to  separate  cells  o'  the  same 

Ignoble  prison,  and,  separate,  thence  to  Home. 

PompiUa's  face,  then  and  thus,  looked  on  me 

The  last  time  in  this  life  :  not  one  sight  since, 

Never  another  sight  to  be !     And  yet 

I  thought  I  had  saved  her.     I  appealed  to  Rome : 

It  seems  I  simply  sent  her  to  her  death. 

You  tell  me  she  is  dying  now,  or  dead; 

I  cannot  bring  myself  to  quite  believe 

This  is  a  place  you  torture  people  in  : 

What  if  this  your  intelligence  were  just 

A  subtlety,  an  honest  wile  to  work 

On  a  man  at  unawares  ?     'T  were  worthy  you. 

No,  Sirs,  I  cannot  have  the  lady  dead  ! 

That  erect  form,  flashing  brow,  fulgurant  eye. 

That  voice  immortal  (oh,  that  voice  of  hers  !) 


GIUSEPPE   CAPONSACCHI  225 

That  vision  in  the  blood-red  daybreak —  that 

Leap  to  life  of  the  pale  electric  sword 

Angels  go  armed  with,  —  that  was  not  the  last 

O'  the  lady  !     Come,  I  see  through  it,  you  find  — 

Know  the  manoeuvre  !     Also  herseH  said 

I  had  saved  her :  do  you  dare  say  she  spoke  false  ? 

Let  me  see  for  myself  if  it  be  so  ! 

Though  she  were  dying,  a  Priest  might  be  of  use, 

The  more  when  he  's  a  friend  too,  —  she  called  me 

Far  beyond  "  friend."     Come,  let  me  see  her  —  indeed 

It  is  my  duty,  being  a  priest :  I  hope 

I  stand  confessed,  established,  proved  a  priest  ? 

My  punishment  had  motive  that,  a  priest 

I,  in  a  laic  garb,  a  mundane  mode. 

Did  what  were  harmlessly  done  otherwise. 

I  never  touched  her  with  my  finger-tip 

Except  to  carry  her  to  the  couch,  that  eve, 

Against  my  heart,  beneath  my  head,  bowed  low, 

As  we  priests  carry  the  paten :  that  is  why 

—  To  get  leave  and  go  see  her  of  your  grace  — 

I  have  told  you  this  whole  story  over  again. 

Do  I  deserve  grace  ?     For  I  might  lock  lips, 

Laugh  at  your  jurisdiction  :  what  have  you 

To  do  with  me  in  the  matter  ?     I  suppose 

Ton  hardly  think  I  donned  a  brave's  dress 

To  have  a  hand  in  the  new  crime  ;  on  the  old, 

Judgment 's  delivered,  penalty  imposed, 

I  was  chained  fast  at  Civita  hand  and  foot  — 

She  had  only  you  to  trust  to,  you  and  Rome, 

Rome  and  the  Church,  and  no  pert  meddling  priest 

Two  days  ago,  when  Guido,  with  the  right, 

Hacked  her  to  pieces.     One  might  well  be  wroth ; 

I  have  been  patient,  done  my  best  to  help  : 

I  come  from  Civita  and  punishment 

As  friend  of  the  court  —  and  for  pure  friendship's  sake 

Have  told  my  tale  to  the  end,  —  nay,  not  the  end  — 

For,  wait  —  I  'U  end  —  not  leave  you  that  excuse  ! 

When  we  were  parted,  —  shall  I  go  on  there  ? 

I  was  presently  brought  to  Rome  —  yes,  here  I  stood 

Opposite  yonder  very  crucifix  — 

And  there  sat  you  and  you,  Sirs,  quite  the  same. 

I  heard  charge,  and  bore  question,  and  told  tale 

Noted  down  in  the  book  there,  —  turn  and  see 

If,  by  one  jot  or  tittle,  I  vary  now ! 

I'  the  color  the  tale  takes,  there  's  change  perhaps ; 


226  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

'T  is  natural,  since  the  sky  is  different, 

Eclipse  in  the  air  now ;  still,  the  outline  stays. 

I  showed  you  how  it  came  to  be  my  part 

To  save  the  lady.     Then  your  clerk  produced 

Papers,  a  pack  of  stupid  and  impure 

Banalities  called  letters  about  love  — 

Love,  indeed,  —  I  could  teach  who  styled  them  so, 

Better,  I  think,  though  priest  and  loveless  both  ! 
"  —  How  was  it  that  a  wife,  young,  innocent. 

And  stranger  to  your  person,  wrote  this  page  ?  "  — 
"  —  She  wrote  it  when  the  Holy  Father  wrote 

The  bestiality  that  posts  through  Rome, 

Put  in  his  mouth  by  Pasquin."       "  Nor  perhaps 

Did  you  return  these  answers,  verse  and  prose. 

Signed,  sealed  and  sent  the  lady  ?     There  's  your  hand  !  " 
"  —  This  precious  piece  of  verse,  I  reaUy  judge, 

Is  meant  to  copy  my  own  character, 

A  clumsy  mimic  ;  and  this  other  prose, 

Not  so  much  even ;  both  rank  forgery : 

Verse,  quotha  ?   Bembo's  verse  !    When  Saint  John  wrote 

The  tract  '  De  Tribus,'  I  wrote  this  to  match." 
"  —  How  came  it,  then,  the  documents  were  found 

At  the  inn  on  your  departure  ? "  —  "I  opine, 

Because  there  were  no  documents  to  find 

In  my  presence,  —  you  must  hide  before  you  find. 

Who  forged  them,  hardly  practised  in  my  view  ; 

Who  found  them  waited  till  I  turned  my  back." 
"  —  And  what  of  the  clandestine  visits  paid, 

Nocturnal  passage  in  and  out  the  house 

With  its  lord  absent  ?     'T  is  alleged  you  climbed  "... 
"  —  Flew  on  a  broomstick  to  the  man  i'  the  moon  ! 

Who  witnessed  or  will  testify  this  trash  ?  " 
"  —  The  trusty  servant,  Margherita's  self, 

Even  she  who  brought  you  letters,  you  confess, 

And,  you  confess,  took  letters  in  reply : 

Forget  not  we  have  knowledge  of  the  facts  !  " 
"  —  Sirs,  who  have  knowledge  of  the  facts,  defray 

The  expenditure  of  wit  I  waste  in  vain, 

Trying  to  find  out  just  one  fact  of  all ! 

She  who  brought  letters  from  who  could  not  write, 

And  took  back  letters  to  who  could  not  read,  — 

Who  was  that  messenger,  of  your  charity?" 
"  —  Well,  so  far  favors  you  the  circumstance 

That  this  same  messenger  .  .  .  how  shall  we  say  ?  .  .  . 

Sub  imputatione  meretricis 

Laborat,  —  which  makes  accusation  nuU : 


GIUSEPPE   CAPONSACCHl  227 

We  waive  this  woman's :  —  nought  makes  void  the  next. 

Borsi,  called  Venerino,  he  who  drove, 

O'  the  first  night  when  you  fled  away,  at  length 

Deposes  to  your  kissings  in  the  coach, 

—  Frequent,  frenetic  "  .  .  .  "  When  deposed  he  so  ?  " 
"  After  some  weeks  of  sharp  imprisonment "... 
"  —  Granted  by  friend  the  Governor,  I  engage  "  — 
"  —  For  his  participation  in  your  flight ! 

At  length  his  obduracy  melting  made 

The  avowal  mentioned "  .  .  .  "  Was  dismissed  forthwith 

To  liberty,  poor  knave,  for  recompense. 

Sirs,  give  what  credit  to  the  lie  you  can ! 

For  me,  no  word  in  my  defence  I  speak, 

And  God  shall  argue  for  the  lady !  " 

So 
Did  I  stand  question,  and  make  answer,  still 
With  the  same  result  of  smiling  disbelief. 
Polite  impossibility  of  faith 
In  such  affected  virtue  in  a  priest ; 
But  a  showing  fair  play,  an  indulgence,  even. 
To  one  no  worse  than  others  after  all  — 
Who  had  not  brought  disgrace  to  the  order,  played 
Discreetly,  ruffled  gown  nor  ripped  the  cloth 
In  a  bungling  game  at  romps :  I  have  told  you.  Sirs  — 
If  I  pretended  simply  to  be  pure 
Honest  and  Christian  in  the  case,  —  absurd ! 
As  well  go  boast  myself  above  the  needs 
O'  the  human  nature,  careless  how  meat  smells, 
Wine  tastes,  —  a  saint  above  the  smack !     But  once 
Abate  my  crest,  own  flaws  i'  the  flesh,  agree 
To  go  with  the  herd,  be  hog  no  more  nor  less. 
Why,  hogs  in  common  herd  have  common  rights  : 
I  must  not  be  unduly  borne  upon, 
Who  just  romanced  a  little,  sowed  wild  oats. 
But  'scaped  without  a  scandal,  flagrant  fault. 
My  name  helped  to  a  mirthful  circumstance  : 
"Joseph  "  would  do  well  to  amend  his  plea  . 
Undoubtedly  —  some  toying  with  the  wife, 
But  as  for  ruffian  violence  and  rape, 
Potiphar  pressed  too  much  on  the  other  side  ! 
The  intrigue,  the  elopement,  the  disguise,  —  well  charged! 
The  letters  and  verse  looked  hardly  like  the  truth. 
Your  apprehension  was  —  of  guilt  enough 
To  be  compatible  with  innocence. 
So,  punished  best  a  little  and  not  too  much. 


228  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Had  I  struck  Guido  Franceschini's  face, 

You  had  counselled  me  withdraw  for  my  own  sake, 

Balk  him  of  bravo-hiring.     Friends  came  round, 

Congratulated,  "  Nobody  mistakes  ! 

The  pettiness  o'  the  forfeiture  defines 

The  peccadillo  :  Guido  gets  his  share  : 

His  wife  is  free  of  husband  and  hook-nose, 

The  mouldy  viands  and  the  mother-in-law. 

To  Civita  with  you  and  amuse  the  time, 

Travesty  us  '  De  Baptu  Helenoe. !  ' 

A  funny  figure  must  the  husband  cut 

When  the  wife  makes  him  skip,  —  too  ticklish,  eh  ? 

Do  it  in  Latin,  not  the  Vulgar,  then ! 

Scazons  —  we  '11  copy  and  send  his  Eminence. 

Mind —  one  iambus  in  the  final  foot ! 

He  '11  rectify  it,  be  your  friend  for  life  !  " 

Oh,  Sirs,  depend  on  me  for  much  new  light 

Thrown  on  the  justice  and  religion  here 

By  this  proceeding,  much  fresh  food  for  thought ! 

And  I  was  just  set  down  to  study  these 

In  relegation,  two  short  days  ago. 

Admiring  how  you  read  the  rules,  when,  clap, 

A  thunder  comes  into  my  solitude  — 

I  am  caught  up  in  a  whirlwind  and  cast  here. 

Told  of  a  sudden,  in  this  room  where  so  late 

You  dealt  out  law  adroitly,  that  those  scales, 

I  meekly  bowed  to,  took  my  allotment  from, 

Guido  has  snatched  at,  broken  in  your  hands, 

Metes  to  himself  the  murder  of  his  wife, 

Full  measure,  pressed  down,  running  over  now  ! 

Can  I  assist  to  an  explanation  ?  —  Yes, 

I  rise  in  your  esteem,  sagacious  Sirs, 

Stand  up  a  Tenderer  of  reasons,  not 

The  officious  priest  would  personate  Saint  George 

For  a  mock  Princess  in  undragoned  days. 

What,  the  blood  startles  you  ?     What,  after  all 

The  priest  who  needs  must  carry  sword  on  thigh 

May  find  imperative  use  for  it  ?     Then,  there  was 

A  Princess,  was  a  dragon  belching  flame, 

And  should  have  been  a  Saint  George  also  ?     Then, 

There  might  be  worse  schemes  than  to  break  the  bonds 

At  Arezzo,  lead  her  by  the  little  hand. 

Till  she  reached  Rome,  and  let  her  try  to  live  ? 

But  you  were  law  and  gospel,  —  would  one  please 

Stand  back,  allow  your  faculty  elbow-room  ? 


GIUSEPPE  CAPON SACCHI  229 

You  blind  guides  who  must  needs  lead  eyes  that  see ! 

Fools,  alike  ignorant  of  man  and  God ! 

What  was  there  here  should  have  perplexed  your  wit 

For  a  wink  of  the  owl-eyes  of  you  ?     How  miss,  then, 

What 's  now  forced  on  you  by  this  flare  of  fact  — 

As  if  Saint  Peter  failed  to  recognize 

Nero  as  no  apostle,  John  or  James, 

Till  some  one  burned  a  martyr,  made  a  torch 

O'  the  blood  and  fat  to  show  his  features  by ! 

Could  you  fail  read  this  cartulary  aright 

On  head  and  front  of  Franceschini  there, 

Large-lettered  like  hell's  masterpiece  of  print,  — 

That  he,  from  the  beginning  pricked  at  heart 

By  some  lust,  letch  of  hate  against  his  wife, 

Plotted  to  plague  her  into  overt  sin 

And  shame,  would  slay  Pompilia  body  and  soul, 

And  save  his  mean  self  —  miserably  caught 

P  the  quagmire  of  his  own  tricks,  cheats  and  lies  ? 

—  That  himself  wrote  those  papers,  —  from  himself 
To  himself,  —  which,  i'  the  name  of  me  and  her. 
His  mistress-messenger  gave  her  and  me. 
Touching  us  with  such  pustules  of  the  soul 

That  she  and  I  might  take  the  taint,  be  shown 
To  the  world  and  shuddered  over,  speckled  so  ? 

—  That  the  agent  put  her  sense  into  my  words, 
Made  substitution  of  the  thing  she  hoped. 

For  the  thing  she  had  and  held,  its  opposite. 
While  the  husband  in  the  background  bit  his  lips 
At  each  fresh  failure  of  his  precious  plot  ? 

—  That  when  at  the  last  we  did  rush  each  on  each, 
By  no  chance  but  because  God  willed  it  so  — 

The  spark  of  truth  was  struck  from  out  our  souls  — 

Made  aU  of  me,  descried  in  the  first  glance, 

Seem  fair  and  honest  and  permissible  love 

O'  the  good  and  true  —  as  the  first  glance  told  me 

There  was  no  duty  patent  in  the  world 

Like  daring  try  be  good  and  true  myself, 

Leaving  the  shows  of  things  to  the  Lord  of  Show 

And  Prince  o'  the  Power  of  the  Air.     Our  very  flight, 

Even  to  its  most  ambiguous  circumstance, 

Irrefragably  proved  how  futile,  false  .  .  . 

Why,  men  —  men  and  not  boys  —  boys  and  not  babes  — ■ 

Babes  and  not  beasts  —  beasts  and  not  stocks  and  stones !  — ^ 

Had  the  liar's  lie  been  true  one  pin-point  speck, 

Were  I  the  accepted  suitor,  free  o'  the  place, 

Disposer  of  the  time,  to  come  at  a  call 


230  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  go  at  a  wink  as  who  should  say  me  nay,  — 
What  need  of  flight,  what  were  the  gain  therefrom 
But  just  damnation,  failure  or  success  ? 
Damnation  pure  and  simple  to  her  the  wife 
And  me  the  priest  —  who  bartered  private  bliss 
For  public  reprobation,  the  safe  shade 
For  the  sunshine  which  men  see  to  pelt  me  by : 
What  other  advantage  —  we  who  led  the  days 
And  nights  alone  i'  the  house  —  was  flight  to  find  ? 
In  our  whole  journey  did  we  stop  an  hour. 
Diverge  a  foot  from  strait  road  till  we  reached 
Or  would  have  reached  —  but  for  that  fate  of  ours  — 
The  father  and  mother,  in  the  eye  of  Rome, 
The  eye  of  yourselves  we  made  aware  of  us 
At  the  first  fall  of  misfortune  ?     And  indeed 
You  did  so  far  give  sanction  to  our  flight. 
Confirm  its  purpose,  as  lend  helping  hand, 
Deliver  up  Pompilia  not  to  him 
She  fled,  but  those  the  flight  was  ventured  for. 
Why  then  could  you,  who  stopped  short,  not  go  on 
One  poor  step  more,  and  justify  the  means. 
Having  allowed  the  end  ?  —  not  see  and  say 
"  Here 's  the  exceptional  conduct  that  should  claim 
To  be  exceptionally  judged  on  rules 
Which,  understood,  make  no  exception  here  "  — 
Why  play  instead  into  the  devil's  hands 
By  dealing  so  ambiguously  as  gave 
Guido  the  power  to  intervene  like  me, 
Prove  one  exception  more  ?     I  saved  his  wife 
Against  law :  against  law  he  slays  her  now  : 
Deal  with  him ! 

I  have  done  with  being  judged. 
I  stand  here  guiltless  in  thought,  word  and  deed, 
To  the  point  that  I  apprise  you,  —  in  contempt 
For  all  misapprehending  ignorance 
O'  the  human  heart,  much  more  the  mind  of  Christ,  ■ 
That  I  assuredly  did  bow,  was  blessed 
By  the  revelation  of  Pompilia.     There ! 
Such  is  the  final  fact  I  fling  you.  Sirs, 
To  mouth  and  mumble  and  misinterpret :  there ! 
"  The  priest 's  in  love,"  have  it  the  vulgar  way  ! 
Unpriest  me,  rend  the  rags  o'  the  vestment,  do  — 
Degrade  deep,  disenfranchise  all  you  dare  — 
Remove  me  from  the  midst,  no  longer  priest 
And  fit  companion  for  the  like  of  you  — 


GIUSEPPE  CAPONSACCm  231 

Tour  gay  Abati  with  the  well-turned  leg 

And  rose  i'  the  hat-rim,  Canons,  cross  at  neck 

And  silk  mask  in  the  pocket  of  the  gown. 

Brisk  bishops  with  the  world's  musk  still  unbrushed 

From  the  rochet ;  I  'U  no  more  of  these  good  things : 

There 's  a  crack  somewhere,  something  that 's  unsound 

r  the  rattle  ! 

For  Pompilia  —  be  advised, 
Build  churches,  go  pray !     You  will  find  me  there, 
I  know,  if  you  come,  - —  and  you  will  come,  I  know. 
Why,  there  's  a  Judge  weeping !     Did  not  I  say 
You  were  good  and  true  at  bottom  ?    You  see  the  truth  — 
I  am  glad  I  helped  you :  she  helped  me  just  so. 

But  for  Count  Guido,  —  you  must  counsel  there  ! 

I  bow  my  head,  bend  to  the  very  dust, 

Break  myself  up  in  shame  of  faultiness. 

I  had  him  one  whole  moment,  as  I  said  — 

As  I  remember,  as  wiU  never  out 

O'  the  thoughts  of  me,  —  I  had  him  in  arm's  reach 

There,  —  as  you  stand,  Sir,  now  you  cease  to  sit,  — 

I  could  have  killed  him  ere  he  killed  his  wife. 

And  did  not :  he  went  ofE  alive  and  well 

And  then  effected  this  last  feat  —  through  me  ! 

Me  —  not  through  you  —  dismiss  that  fear  !     'T  was  you 

Hindered  me  staying  here  to  save  her,  —  not 

From  leaving  you  and  going  back  to  him 

And  doing  service  in  Arezzo.     Come, 

Instruct  me  in  procedure  !     I  conceive  — 

In  all  due  self-abasement  might  I  speak  — 

How  you  wiU  deal  with  Guido  :  oh,  not  death ! 

Death,  if  it  let  her  life  be  :  otherwise 

Not  death,  —  your  lights  will  teach  you  clearer  !     I 

Certainly  have  an  instinct  of  my  own 

I'  the  matter  :  bear  with  me  and  weigh  its  worth ! 

Let  us  go  away  —  leave  Guido  all  alone 

Back  on  the  world  again  that  knows  him  now  ! 

I  think  he  will  be  found  (indulge  so  far  !) 

Not  to  die  so  much  as  slide  out  of  life. 

Pushed  by  the  general  horror  and  common  hate 

Low,  lower,  —  left  o'  the  very  ledge  of  things, 

I  seem  to  see  him  catch  convulsively 

One  by  one  at  all  honest  forms  of  life. 

At  reason,  order,  decency  and  use  — 

To  cramp  him  and  get  foothold  by  at  least ; 


232  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

And  still  they  disengage  them  from  bis  clutch. 
"  What,  yon  are  he,  then,  had  Pompilia  onee 
And  so  forewent  her  ?     Take  not  np  with  us !  " 
And  thus  I  see  him  slowly  and  surely  edged 
Off  all  the  tahle-land  whence  life  upsprings 
Aspiring  to  he  immortaliiy, 
As  the  snake,  hatched  on  hill-top>by  mischance, 
Despite  his  wriggling,  slips,  slides,  slidders  down 
Hillside,  lies  low  and  prostrate  on  the  smooth 
Level  of  the  outer  place,  lapsed  in  the  vale  : 
So  I  lose  Guido  in  the  loneliness, 
Silence  and  dusk,  till  at  the  doleful  end, 
At  the  horizontal  Une,  creation's  verge, 
From  what  just  is  to  absolute  nothingness  — 
Whom  is  it,  straining  onward  stiU,  he  meets  ? 
What  other  man  deep  further  in  the  fate, 
Who,  turning  at  the  prize  of  a  footfall 
To  flatter  him  and  promise  fellowship, 
Discovers  in  the  act  a  frightful  face  — 
Judas,  made  monstrous  by  much  solitude  ! 
The  two  are  at  one  now  !     !Let  them  love  their  love 
That  bites  and  claws  Kke  hate,  or  hate  their  hate 
That  mops  and  mows  and  makes  as  it  were  love  ! 
There,  let  them  each  tear  each  in  devil's-fnn. 
Or  fondle  this  the  other  while  malice  aches  — 
Both  teach,  both  learn  detestability  ! 
Kiss  him  the  kiss,  Iscariot !     Pay  that  back. 
That  smatch  o'  the  slaver  blistering  on  your  lip, 
By  the  better  trick,  the  insult  he  spared  Christ  — 
Lure  him  the  lure  o'  the  letters,  Aretine  ! 
Lick  him  o'er  slimy-smooth  with  jelly-filth 
O'  the  verse-and-prose  pollution  in  love's  guise ! 
The  cockatrice  is  with  the  basilisk  ! 
There  let  them  grapple,  denizens  o'  the  dark, 
Foes  or  friends,  but  indissolubly  bound, 
In  their  one  spot  out  of  the  ken  of  Grod 
Or  care  of  man,  forever  and  evermore  ! 

Why,  Sirs,  what 's  this  ?     Why,  this  is  sorry  and  strange  I 

Futility,  divagation  :  this  from  me 

Bound  to  be  rational,  justify  an  act 

Of  sober  man  !  —  whereas,  being  moved  so  mnch, 

I  give  you  cause  to  doubt  the  lady's  mind : 

A  pretty  sarcasm  for  the  world  !     I  fear 

You  do  her  wit  injustice,  —  all  through  me ! 

Like  my  fate  all  through,  —  ineffective  help ! 


GIUSEPPE  CAPONSACCHI  233 

A  poor  rash  advocate  I  prove  myseK. 

You  might  be  angry  with  good  cause :  but  sure 

At  the  advocate,  —  only  at  the  undue  zeal 

That  spoils  the  force  of  his  own  plea,  I  think  ? 

My  part  was  just  to  tell  you  how  things  stand, 

State  facts  and  not  be  flustered  at  their  fume. 

But  then  't  is  a  priest  speaks  :  as  for  love,  —  no  ! 

If  you  let  buzz  a  vulgar  fly  like  that 

About  your  brains,  as  if  I  loved,  forsooth. 

Indeed,  Sirs,  you  do  wrong !     We  had  no  thought 

Of  such  infatuation,  she  and  I : 

There  are  many  points  that  prove  it :  do  be  just ! 

I  told  you,  —  at  one  little  roadside-place 

I  spent  a  good  half-hour,  paced  to  and  fro 

The  garden  ;  just  to  leave  her  free  awhile, 

I  plucked  a  handful  of  Spring  herb  and  bloom : 

I  might  have  sat  beside  her  on  the  bench 

Where  the  children  were  :  I  wish  the  thing  had  been, 

Indeed  :  the  event  could  not  be  worse,  you  know  : 

One  more  half-hour  of  her  saved !     She  's  dead  now,  Sirs ! 

While  I  was  running  on  at  such  a  rate, 

Friends  should  have  plucked  me  by  the  sleeve  :  I  went 

Too  much  o'  the  trivial  outside  of  her  face 

And  the  purity  that  shone  there  —  plain  to  me, 

Not  to  you,  what  more  natural  ?     Nor  am  I 

Infatuated,  —  oh,  I  saw,  be  sure ! 

Her  brow  had  not  the  right  line,  leaned  too  much, 

Painters  would  say ;  they  like  the  straight-up  Greek  : 

This  seemed  bent  somewhat  with  an  invisible  crown  ■ 

Of  martyr  and  saint,  not  such  as  art  approves. 

And  how  the  dark  orbs  dwelt  deep  underneath, 

Looked  out  of  such  a  sad  sweet  heaven  on  me ! 

The  lips,  compressed  a  little,  came  forward  too. 

Careful  for  a  whole  world  of  sin  and  pain. 

That  was  the  face,  her  husband  makes  his  plea, 

He  sought  just  to  disfigure,  —  no  offence 

Beyond  that !     Sirs,  let  us  be  rational ! 

He  needs  must  vindicate  his  honor,  —  ay, 

Yet  shirks,  the  coward,  in  a  clown's  disguise. 

Away  from  the  scene,  endeavors  to  escape. 

Now,  had  he  done  so,  slain  and  left  no  trace 

O'  the  slayer,  —  what  were  vindicated,  pray  ? 

You  had  found  his  wife  disfigured  or  a  corpse, 

For  what  and  by  whom  ?     It  is  too  palpable  ! 

Then,  here  's  another  point  involving  law  : 

I  use  this  argument  to  show  you  meant 


234  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

No  calumny  against  us  by  that  title 
O'  the  sentence,  —  liars  try  to  twist  it  so  : 
What  penalty  it  bore,  I  had  to  pay 
Till  further  proof  should  follow  of  innocence  — 
Prohationis  oh  defectum,  —  proof  ? 
How  could  you  get  proof  without  trying  us  ? 
You  went  through  the  preliminary  form, 
Stopped  there,  contrived  this  sentence  to  amuse 
The  adversary.     If  the  title  ran 
For  more  than  fault  imputed  and  not  proved, 
That  was  a  simple  penman's  error,  else 
A  slip  i'  the  phrase,  —  as  when  we  say  of  you 
^'Charged  with  injustice"  —  which  may  either  be 
Or  not  be,  —  't  is  a  name  that  sticks  meanwhUe. 
Another  relevant  matter  :  fool  that  I  am  ! 
Not  what  I  wish  true,  yet  a  point  friends  urge  : 
It  is  not  true,  —  yet,  since  friends  think  it  helps,  — 
She  only  tried  me  when  some  others  failed  — 
Began  with  Conti,  whom  I  told  you  of, 
And  GuUlichini,  Guido's  kinsfolk  both. 
And  when  abandoned  by  them,  not  before, 
Turned  to  me.     That 's  conclusive  why  she  turned. 
Much  good  they  got  by  the  happy  cowardice ! 
Conti  is  dead,  poisoned  a  month  ago  : 
Does  that  much  strike  you  as  a  sin  ?     Not  much,. 
After  the  present  murder,  —  one  mark  more 
On  the  Moor's  skin,  —  what  is  black  by  blacker  still  ? 
Conti  had  come  here  and  told  truth.     And  so 
With  GuUlichini ;  he 's  condemned  of  course 
To  the  galleys,  as  a  friend  in  this  kffair, 
Tried  and  condemned  for  no  one  thing  i'  the  world, 
A  fortnight  since  by  who  but  the  Governor  ?  — 
The  just  judge,  who  refused  Pompilia  help 
At  first  blush,  being  her  husband's  friend,  you  know. 
There  are  two  tales  to  suit  the  separate  courts, 
Arezzo  and  Kome :  he  tells  you  here,  we  fled 
Alone,  unhelped,  —  lays  stress  on  the  main  fault, 
The  spiritual  sin,  Rome  looks  to  :  but  elsewhere 
He  likes  best  we  should  break  in,  steal,  bear  off, 
Be  fit  to  brand  and  pillory  and  flog  — 
That 's  the  charge  goes  to  the  heart  of  the  Governor : 
If  these  unpriest  me,  you  and  I  may  yet 
Converse,  Vincenzo  Marzi-Medici ! 
Oh,  Sirs,  there  are  worse  men  than  you,  I  say ! 
More  easily  duped,  I  mean  ;  this  stupid  lie. 
Its  liar  never  dared  propound  in  Rome, 


GIUSEPPE   CAPONSACCHT  235 

Ho  gets  Arezzo  to  receive,  —  nay  more, 

Gets  Florence  and  the  Duke  to  authorize ! 

This  is  their  Rota's  sentence,  their  Granduke 

Signs  and  seals  !     Rome  for  me  henceforward  —  Rome, 

Where  better  men  are,  —  most  of  all,  that  man 

The  Augustinian  of  the  Hospital, 

Who  writes  the  letter,  —  he  confessed,  he  says, 

Many  a  dying  person,  never  one 

So  sweet  and  true  and  pure  and  beautiful. 

A  good  man  !     Will  you  make  him  Pope  one  day  ? 

Not  that  he  is  not  good  too,  this  we  have  — 

But  old,  —  else  he  would  have  his  word  to  speak. 

His  truth  to  teach  the  world  :    I  thirst  for  truth. 

But  shall  not  drink  it  tUl  I  reach  the  source. 

Sirs,  I  am  quiet  again.     You  see,  we  are 

So  very  pitiable,  she  and  I, 

Who  had  conceivably  been  otherwise. 

Forget  distemperature  and  idle  heat ! 

Apart  from  truth's  sake,  what 's  to  move  so  much  ? 

Pompilia  wiQ  be  presently  with  God ; 

I  am,  on  earth,  as  good  as  out  of  it, 

A  relegated  priest ;  when  exile  ends, 

I  mean  to  do  my  duty  and  live  long. 

She  and  I  are  mere  strangers  now :  but  priests 

Should  study  passion  ;  how  else  cure  mankind, 

Who  come  for  help  in  passionate  extremes  ? 

I  do  but  play  with  an  imagined  life 

Of  who,  unfettered  by  a  vow,  unblessed 

By  the  higher  call,  —  since  you  will  have  it  so,  — 

Leads  it  companioned  by  the  woman  there. 

To  live,  and  see  her  learn,  and  learn  by  her, 

Out  of  the  low  obscure  and  petty  world  — 

Or  only  see  one  purpose  and  one  will 

Evolve  themselves  i'  the  world,  change  wrong  to  right : 

To  have  to  do  with  nothing  but  the  true, 

The  good,  the  eternal  —  and  these,  not  alone 

In  the  main  current  of  the  general  life. 

But  small  experiences  of  every  day. 

Concerns  of  the  particular  hearth  and  home  : 

To  learn  not  only  by  a  comet's  rush 

But  a  rose's  birth,  —  not  by  the  grandeur,  God  — 

But  the  comfort,  Christ.     All  this,  how  far  away  I 

Mere  delectation,  meet  for  a  minute's  dream  !  — 

Just  as  a  drudging  student  trims  his  lamp. 

Opens  his  Plutarch,  puts  him  in  the  place 


236  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Of  Bonmn,  Grecian ;  draws  the  patched  gown  close, 

Dreams,  "  Thus  should  I  fight,  save  or  rule  the  world  !  "  - 

Then  smilingly,  contentedly,  awakes 

To  the  old  solitary  nothingness. 

So  I,  from  such  communion,  pass  content  .  .  . 

O  great,  just,  good  God !     Miserable  me  I 


vn. 

POMPILIA. 

I  AM.  just  seventeen  years  and  five  months  old, 

And,  if  I  lived  one  day  more,  three  full  weeks ; 

'T  is  writ  so  in  the  church's  register, 

Lorenzo  in  Lucina,  all  my  names 

At  length,  so  many  names  for  one  poor  child, 

—  Francesca  Camilla  Vittoria  Angela 

Pompilia  Comparini,  — laughable  ! 

Also  't  is  writ  that  I  was  married  there 

Four  y«ars  ago :  and  they  will  add,  I  hope, 

When  they  insert  my  death,  a  word  or  two,  — 

Omitting  all  about  the  mode  of  death,  — 

This,  in  its  place,  this  which  one  cares  to  know, 

That  I  had  been  a  mother  of  a  son 

Exactly  two  weeks.     It  will  be  through  grace 

O'  the  Curate,  not  through  any  claim  I  have  ; 

Because  the  boy  was  born  at,  so  baptized 

Close  to,  the  Villa,  in  the  proper  church  : 

A  pretty  church,  I  say  no  word  against. 

Yet  stranger-like,  —  while  this  Lorenzo  seems 

My  own  particular  place,  I  always  say. 

I  used  to  wonder,  when  I  stood  scarce  high 

As  the  bed  here,  what  the  marble  lion  meant. 

With  half  his  body  rushing  from  the  wall. 

Eating  the  figure  of  a  prostrate  man  — 

(To  the  right,  it  is,  of  entry  by  the  door)  — 

An  ominous  sign  to  one  baptized  like  me. 

Married,  and  to  be  buried  there,  I  hope. 

And  they  should  add,  to  have  my  life  complete, 

He  is  a  boy  and  Gaetan  by  name  — 

Gaetano,  for  a  reason,  —  if  the  friar 

Don  Celestine  will  ask  this  grace  for  me 

Of  Curate  Ottoboni  :  he  it  was 

Baptized  me :  he  remembers  my  whole  life 

As  I  do  his  gray  hair. 

All  these  few  things 
I  know  are  true,  —  will  you  remember  them  ? 


238  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Because  time  flies.     The  surgeon  cared  for  me, 
To  count  my  wounds,  —  twenty-two  dagger-wounds. 
Five  deadly,  but  I  do  not  suffer  much  — 
Or  too  much  pain,  —  and  am  to  die  to-night 

Oh  how  good  God  is  that  my  babe  was  bom, 

—  Better  than  born,  baptized  and  hid  away 

Before  this  happened,  safe  from  being  hui-t ! 

That  had  been  sin  God  could  not  well  forgive : 

He  was  too  young  to  smile  and  save  himself. 

When  they  took,  two  days  after  he  was  born. 

My  babe  away  from  me  to  be  baptized 

And  hidden  awhile,  for  fear  his  foe  should  find,  — 

The  country-woman,  used  to  nursing  babes, 

Said,  "  Why  take  on  so  ?  where  is  the  great  loss  ? 

These  next  three  weeks  he  will  but  sleep  and  feed, 

Only  begin  to  smile  at  the  month's  end  ; 

He  would  not  know  you,  if  you  kept  him  here, 

Sooner  than  that ;  so,  spend  three  merry  weeks 

Snug  in  the  ViUa,  getting  strong  and  stout. 

And  then  I  bring  him  back  to  be  your  own, 

And  both  of  you  may  steal  to  —  we  know  where  !  " 

The  month  —  there  wants  of  it  two  weeks  this  day ! 

Stm,  I  half  fancied  when  I  heard  the  knock 

At  the  Villa  in  the  dusk,  it  might  prove  she  — 

Come  to  say,  "  Since  he  smiles  before  the  time, 

Why  should  I  cheat  you  out  of  one  good  hour  ? 

Back  I  have  brought  him  ;  speak  to  him  and  judge ! '' 

Now  I  shall  never  see  him ;  what  is  worse, 

When  he  grows  up  and  gets  to  be  my  age, 

He  will  seem  hardly  more  than  a  g^eat  boy ; 

And  if  he  asks,  "  What  was  my  mother  like  ?  " 

People  may  answer,  "  Like  girls  of  seventeen  "  — 

And  how  can  he  but  think  of  this  and  that, 

Lucias,  Marias,  Sofias,  who  titter  or  blush 

When  he  regards  them  as  such  boys  niay  do  ? 

Therefore  I  wish  some  one  wiU  please  to  say 

I  looked  already  old  though  I  was  young ; 

Do  I  not  .  .  .  say,  if  you  are  by  to  speak  .  .   . 

Look  nearer  twenty  ?     No  more  like,  at  least, 

Girls  who  look  arch  or  redden  when  boys  laugh, 

Than  the  poor  Virgin  that  I  used  to  know 

At  our  street-comer  in  a  lonely  niche,  — 

The  babe,  that  sat  upon  her  knees,  broke  off,  — 

Thin  white  glazed  clay,  you  pitied  her  the  more : 

She,  not  the  gay  ones,  always  get  my  rose. 


POMPILIA  239 

How  happy  those  are  who  know  how  to  write  ! 
Such  could  write  what  their  son  should  read  in  time, 
Had  they  a  whole  day  to  live  out  like  me. 
Also  my  name  is  not  a  common  name, 
"  Pompilia,"  and  may  help  to  keep  apart 
A  little  the  thing  I  am  from  what  girls  are. 
But  then  how  far  away,  how  hard  to  find 
Will  anything  ahout  me  have  become, 
Even  if  the  boy  bethink  himself  and  ask ! 
No  father  that  he  ever  knew  at  aU, 
Nor  ever  had  —  no,  never  had,  I  say ! 
That  is  the  truth,  -^  nor  any  mother  left, 
Out  of  the  little  two  weeks  that  she  lived, 
Fit  for  such  memory  as  might  assist : 
As  good  too  as  no  family,  no  name, 
Not  even  poor  old  Pietro's  name,  nor  hers, 
Poor  kind  unwise  Violante,  since  it  seems 
They  must  not  be  my  parents  any  more. 
That  is  why  something  put  it  in  my  head 
To  call  the  boy  "  Gaetano  "  —  no  old  name 
For  sorrow's  sake ;  I  looked  up  to  the  sky 
And  took  a  new  saint  to  begin  anew. 
One  who  has  only  been  made  saint  —  how  long  ? 
Twenty-five  years  :  so,  carefuUer,  perhaps, 
To  guard  a  namesake  than  those  old  saints  grow, 
Tired  out  by  this  time,  —  see  my  own  five  saints  I 

On  second  thoughts,  I  hope  he  will  regard 
The  history  of  me  as  what  some  one  dreamed, 
And  get  to  disbelieve  it  at  the  last : 
Since  to  myself  it  dwindles  fast  to  that. 
Sheer  dreaming  and  impossibility,  — 
Just  in  four  days  too !     AU  the  seventeen  years, 
Not  once  did  a  suspicion  visit  me 
How  very  different  a  lot  is  mine 
From  any  other  woman's  in  the  world. 
The  reason  must  be,  't  was  by  step  and  step 
It  got  to  grow  so  terrible  and  strange. 
These  strange  woes  stole  on  tiptoe,  as  it  were, 
Into  my  neighborhood  and  privacy. 
Sat  down  where  I  sat,  laid  them  where  I  lay  ; 
And  I  was  found  familiarized  with  fear. 
When  friends  broke  in,  held  up  a  torch  and  cried, 
"  Why,  you  Pompilia  in  the  cavern  thus. 
How  comes  that  arm  of  yours  about  a  wolf  ? 
And  the  soft  length,  —  lies  in  and  out  your  feet 


240  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  laps  you  round  the  knee,  —  a  snake  it  is  !  " 
And  so  on. 

Well,  and  they  are  right  enough, 
By  the  torch  they  hold  up  now :  for  &st,  observe, 
I  never  had  a  father,  —  no,  nor  yet 
A  mother :  my  own  boy  can  say  at  least, 
"  I  had  a  mother  whom  I  kept  two  weeks  !  " 
Not  I,  who  little  used  to  doubt  .  .  .  I  doubt 
Good  Pietro,  kind  Violante,  gave  me  birth  ? 
They  loved  me  always  as  I  love  my  babe 
( —  Nearly  so,  that  is  —  quite  so  could  not  be  — ) 
Did  for  me  aU  I  meant  to  do  for  him, 
Till  one  surprising  day,  three  years  ago, 
They  both  declared,  at  Rome,  before  some  judge 
In  some  court  where  the  people  flocked  to  hear, 
That  really  I  had  never  been  their  child. 
Was  a  mere  castaway,  the  careless  crime 
Of  an  unknown  man,  the  crime  and  care  too  much 
Of  a  woman  known  too  weU,  — little  to  these. 
Therefore,  of  whom  I  was  the  flesh  and  blood : 
What  then  to  Pietro  and  Violante,  both 
No  more  my  relatives  than  you  or  you  ? 
Nothing  to  them !     Tou  know  what  they  declared. 

So  with  my  husband,  —  just  such  a  surprise, 
Such  a  mistake,  in  that  relationship  I 
Every  one  says  that  husbands  love  their  wives, 
Guard  them  and  guide  them,  give  them  happiness ; 
'T  is  duty,  law,  pleasure,  religion :  well. 
You  see  how  much  of  this  comes  true  in  mine ! 
People  indeed  would  fain  have  somehow  proved 
He  was  no  husband  :  but  he  did  not  hear, 
Or  would  not  wait,  and  so  has  killed  us  all. 
Then  there  is  .  .  .  only  let  me  name  one  more  ! 
There  is  the  friend,  —  men  will  not  ask  about, 
But  teU  untruths  of,  and  give  nicknames  to, 
And  think  my  lover,  most  surprise  of  all ! 
Do  only  hear,  it  is  the  priest  they  mean, 
Giuseppe  Caponsacchi :  a  priest — love. 
And  love  me !     Well,  yet  people  think  he  did. 
I  am  married,  he  has  taken  priestly  vows. 
They  know  that,  and  yet  go  on,  say,  the  same, 
"  Yes,  how  he  loves  you !  "     "  That  was  love  "  —  they 
When  anything  is  answered  that  they  ask  : 
Or  else  "  No  wonder  you  love  him  "  —  they  say. 


POMPILIA  241 

Then  they  shake  heads,  pity  much,  scarcely  blame  — 
As  if  we  neither  of  us  lacked  excuse. 
And  anyhow  are  punished  to  the  full. 
And  downright  love  atones  for  everything ! 
Nay,  I  heard  read  out  in  the  public  court 
Before  the  judge,  in  presence  of  my  friends, 
Letters  't  was  said  the  priest  had  sent  to  me, 
And  other  letters  sent  him  by  myself, 
We  being  lovers ! 

Listen  what  this  is  like  ! 
When  I  was  a  mere  child,  my  mother  .  .  .  that 's 
Violante,  you  must  let  me  call  her  so, 
Nor  waste  time,  trying  to  unlearn  the  word,  .  .  . 
She  brought  a  neighbor's  chUd  of  my  own  age 
To  play  with  me  of  rainy  afternoons  ; 
And,  since  there  hung  a  tapestry  on  the  wall, 
We  two  agreed  to  find  each  other  out 
Among  the  figures.     "  Tisbe,  that  is  you, 
With  half-moon  on  your  hair-knot,  spear  in  band, 
Flying,  but  no  wings,  only  the  great  scarf 
Blown  to  a  bluish  rainbow  at  your  back  : 
Call  o£B  your  hound  and  leave  the  stag  alone  !  " 
'■'  —  And  there  are  you,  Pompilia,  such  green  leaves 
Flourishing  out  of  your  five  finger-ends, 
And  all  the  rest  of  you  so  brown  and  rough : 
Why  is  it  you  are  turned  a  sort  of  tree  ?  " 
You  know  the  figures  never  were  ourselves 
Though  we  nicknamed  them  so.     Thus,  all  my  life,  — 
As  well  what  was,  as  what,  like  this,  was  not,  — 
Looks  old,  fantastic  and  impossible  : 
I  touch  a  fairy  thing  that  fades  and  fades. 
—  Even  to  my  babe  !  I  thought,  when  he  was  born, 
Something  began  for  once  that  would  not  end. 
Nor  change  into  a  laugh  at  me,  but  stay 
Foreverraore,  eternally  quite  mine. 
Well,  so  be  is,  — but  yet  they  bore  him  off. 
The  third  day,  lest  my  husband  should  lay  traps 
And  catch  him,  and  by  means  of  him  catch  me. 
Since  they  have  saved  him  so,  it  was  well  done  : 
Yet  thence  comes  such  confusion  of  what  was 
With  what  will  be,  —  that  late  seems  long  ago, 
And,  what  years  should  bring  round,  already  come, 
Till  even  he  vrithdraws  into  a  dream 
As  the  rest  do  :  I  fancy  him  grown  great. 
Strong,  stem,  a  tall  young  man  who  tutors  me, 
Frowns  with  the  others,  "  Poor  imprudent  child ! 


242  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Why  did  you  venture  out  of  the  safe  street  ? 
Why  go  so  far  from  help  to  that  lone  house  ? 
Why  open  at  the  whisper  and  the  knock  ?  " 

Six  days  ago  when  it  was  New  Year's  day, 
We  bent  above  the  fire  and  talked  of  him, 
What  he  should  do  when  he  was  grown  and  great. 
Violante,  Pietro,  each  had  given  the  arm 
I  leant  on,  to  walk  by,  from  couch  to  chair 
And  fireside,  —  laughed,  as  I  lay  safe  at  last, 
"  Pompilia's  march  from  bed  to  board  is  made, 
Pompilia  back  again  and  with  a  babe. 
Shall  one  day  lend  his  arm  and  help  her  walk !  " 
Then  we  all  wished  each  other  more  New  Years. 
Pietro  began  to  scheme  —  "  Our  cause  is  gained ; 
The  law  is  stronger  than  a  wicked  man  : 
Let  him  henceforth  go  his  way,  leave  us  ours ! 
We  wiU  avoid  the  city,  tempt  no  more 
The  greedy  ones  by  feasting  and  parade,  — 
Live  at  the  other  villa,  we  know  where. 
Still  farther  off,  and  we  can  watch  the  babe 
Grow  fast  in  the  good  air ;  and  wood  is  cheap 
And  wine  sincere  outside  the  city  gate. 
I  still  have  two  or  three  old  friends  will  grope 
Their  way  along  the  mere  half-mile  of  road. 
With  staff  and  lantern  on  a  moonless  night 
When  one  needs  talk  :  they  'U  find  me,  never  fear. 
And  I  '11  find  them  a  flask  of  the  old  sort  yet !  " 
Violante  said,  "  You  chatter  like  a  crow : 
Pompilia  tires  o'  the  tattle,  and  shall  to  bed  : 
Do  not  too  much  the  first  day,  —  somewhat  more 
To-morrow,  and,  the  next,  begin  the  cape 
And  hood  and  coat !     I  have  spun  wool  enough." 
Oh  what  a  happy  friendly  eve  was  that ! 

And,  next  day,  about  noon,  out  Pietro  went  — 
He  was  so  happy  and  would  talk  so  much. 
Until  Violante  pushed  and  laughed  him  forth 
Sight-seeing  in  the  cold,  —  "  So  much  to  see 
r  the  churches  !     Swathe  your  throat  three  times !  "  she 
cried, 
"  And,  above  all,  beware  the  slippery  ways, 
And  bring  us  all  the  news  by  supper-time  !  " 
He  came  back  late,  laid  by  cloak,  staff  and  hat, 
Powdered  so  thick  with  snow  it  made  us  laugh. 
Boiled  a  great  log  upon  the  ash  o'  the  hearth, 


POMPILIA  243 

And  bade  Violante  treat  us  to  a  flask, 

Because  he  had  obeyed  her  faithfully, 

Gone  sight-see  through  the  seven,  and  found  no  church 

To  his  mind  like  San  Giovanni  —  "  There  's  the  fold, 

And  all  the  sheep  together,  big  as  cats  ! 

And  such  a  shepherd,  half  the  size  of  life, 

Starts  up  and  hears  the  angel  "  —  when,  at  the  door, 

A  tap :  we  started  up  :  you  know  the  rest. 

Pietro  at  least  had  done  no  harm,  I  know  ; 
Nor  even  Violante,  so  much  harm  as  makes 
Such  revenge  lawful.     Certainly  she  erred  — 
Did  wrong,  how  shall  I  dare  say  otherwise  ?  — 
In  telling  that  first  falsehood,  buying  me 
From  my  poor  faulty  mother  at  a  price, 
To  pass  off  upon  Pietro  as  his  child. 
If  one  should  take  my  babe,  give  him  a  name, 
Say  he  was  not  Gaetano  and  my  own. 
But  that  some  other  woman  made  his  mouth 
And  hands  and  feet,  —  how  very  false  were  that ! 
No  good  could  come  of  that ;  and  all  harm  did. 
Yet  if  a  stranger  were  to  represent 
"  Needs  must  you  either  give  your  babe  to  me 
And  let  me  call  him  mine  forevermore. 
Or  let  your  husband  get  him  "  —  ah,  my  God, 
That  were  a  trial  I  refuse  to  face  ! 
Well,  just  so  here  :  it  proved  vrrong  but  seemed  right 
To  poor  Violante  —  for  there  lay,  she  said, 
My  poor  real  dying  mother  in  her  rags, 
"Who  put  me  from  her  with  the  life  and  all. 
Poverty,  pain,  shame  and  disease  at  once, 
To  die  the  easier  by  what  price  I  fetched  — 
Also  (I  hope)  because  I  should  be  spared 
Sorrow  and  sin,  —  why  may  not  that  have  helped  ? 
My  father,  —  he  was  no  one,  any  one, ; — 
The  worse,  the  likelier,  —  call  him,  —  he  who  came, 
Was  wicked  for  his  pleasure,  went  his  way, 
Aid  left  no  trace  to  track  by  ;  there  remained 
Nothing  but  me,  the  unnecessary  life, 
To  catch  up  or  let  fall,  —  and  yet  a  thing 
She  could  make  happy,  be  made  happy  with. 
This  poor  Violante,  —  who  would  frown  thereat  ? 

Well,  God,  you  see  !     God  plants  us  where  we  grow. 

It  is  not  that,  because  a  bud  is  born 

At  a  wild  brier's  end,  full  i'  the  wild  beast's  way, 


244  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

We  ought  to  pluck  and  put  it  out  of  reach 

On  the  oak-tree  top,  —  say,  "  There  the  bud  belongs ! '' 

She  thought,  moreover,  real  lies  were  lies  told 

For  harm's  sake  ;  whereas  this  had  good  at  heart, 

Good  for  my  mother,  good  for  me,  and  good 

For  Pietro  who  was  meant  to  love  a  babe, 

And  needed  one  to  make  his  life  of  use. 

Receive  his  house  and  land  when  he  should  die. 

Wrong,  wrong,  and  always  wrong  !  how  plainly  wrong ! 

For  see,  this  fault  kept  pricking,  as  faults  do, 

All  the  same  at  her  heart :  this  falsehood  hatched, 

She  could  not  let  it  go  nor  keep  it  fast. 

She  told  me  so,  —  the  first  time  I  was  found 

Locked  in  her  arms  once  more  after  the  pain. 

When  the  nuns  let  me  leave  them  and  go  home, 

And  both  of  us  cried  all  the  cares  away,  — 

This  it  was  set  her  on  to  make  amends. 

This  brought  about  the  marriage  —  simply  this ! 

Do  let  me  speak  for  her  you  blame  so  much ! 

When  Paul,  my  husband's  brother,  found  me  out, 

Heard  there  was  wealth  for  who  should  marry  me, 

So,  came  and  made  a  speech  to  ask  my  hand 

For  Guido,  —  she,  instead  of  piercing  straight 

Through  the  pretence  to  the  ignoble  truth, 

Fancied  she  saw  God's  very  finger  point. 

Designate  just  the  time  for  planting  me 

(The  wild-brier  slip  she  plucked  to  love  and  wear) 

In  soil  where  I  could  strike  real  root,  and  grow. 

And  get  to  be  the  thing  I  called  myself : 

For,  wife  and  husband  are  one  flesh,  God  says, 

And  I,  whose  parents  seemed  such  and  were  none. 

Should  in  a  husband  have  a  husband  now, 

Find  nothing,  this  time,  but  was  what  it  seemed, 

—  All  truth  and  no  confusion  any  more. 

I  know  she  meant  all  good  to  me,  aU  pain 

To  herself,  —  since  how  could  it  be  aught  but  pain, 

To  give  me  up,  so,  from  her  very  breast. 

The  wilding  flower-tree-branch  that,  all  those  years. 

She  had  got  used  to  feel  for  and  find  fixed  ? 

She  meant  weU  :  has  it  been  so  ill  i'  the  main  ? 

That  is  but  fair  to  ask :  one  cannot  judge 

Of  what  has  been  the  ill  or  well  of  life. 

The  day  that  one  is  dying,  —  sorrows  change 

Into  not  altogether  sorrow-like  ; 

I  do  see  strangeness  but  scarce  misery, 

Now  it  is  over,  and  no  danger  more. 


POMPILIA  245 

My  child  is  safe  ;  there  seems  not  so  much  pain. 
It  comes,  most  like,  that  I  am  just  absolved. 
Purged  of  the  past,  the  foul  in  me,  washed  fair,  — 
One  cannot  both  have  and  not  have,  you  know,  — 
Being  right  now,  I  am  happy  and  color  things. 
Yes,  everybody  that  leaves  life  sees  all 
Softened  and  bettered  :  so  with  other  sights : 
To  me  at  least  was  never  evening  yet 
But  seemed  far  beautifuller  than  its  day, 
For  past  is  past. 

There  was  a  fancy  came, 
When  somewhere,  in  the  journey  with  my  friend, 
We  stepped  into  a  hovel  to  get  food ; 
And  there  began  a  yelp  here,  a  bark  there,  — 
Misunderstanding  creatures  that  were  wroth 
And  vexed  themselves  and  us  till  we  retired. 
The  hovel  is  Ufe  :  no  matter  what  dogs  bit 
Or  cats  scratched  in  the  hovel  I  break  from, 
All  outside  is  lone  field,  moon  and  such  peace  — 
Flowing  in,  filling  up  as  with  a  sea 
Whereon  comes  Someone,  walks  fast  on  the  white, 
Jesus  Christ's  self,  Don  Celestine  declares. 
To  meet  me  and  calm  all  things  back  again. 

Beside,  up  to  my  marriage,  thirteen  years 

Were,  each  day,  happy  as  the  day  was  long : 

This  may  have  made  the  change  too  terrible. 

I  know  that  when  Violante  told  me  first 

The  cavalier  —  she  meant  to  bring  next  morn, 

Whom  I  must  also  let  take,  kiss  my  hand  — 

Would  be  at  San  Lorenzo  the  same  eve 

And  marry  me,  —  which  over,  we  should  go 

Home  both  of  us  without  him  as  before. 

And,  till  she  bade  speak,  I  must  hold  my  tongue, 

Such  being  the  correct  way  with  girl-brides, 

From  whom  one  word  would  make  a  father  blush,  — 

I  know,  I  say,  that  when  she  told  me  this, 

—  Well,  I  no  more  saw  sense  in  what  she  said 

Than  a  lamb  does  in  people  clipping  wool ; 

Only  lay  down  and  let  myself  be  clipped. 

And  when  next  day  the  cavalier  who  came 

(Tisbe  had  told  me  that  the  slim  young  man 

With  wings  at  head,  and  wings  at  feet,  and  sword 

Threatening  a  monster,  in  our  tapestry. 

Would  eat  a  girl  else,  —  was  a  cavalier)  — 


246  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

When  he  proved  Guido  Franceschini,  —  old 

And  nothing  like  so  tall  as  I  myself, 

Hook-nosed  and  yellow  in  a  hush  of  beard, 

Much  like  a  thing  I  saw  on  a  boy's  wrist, 

He  called  an  owl  and  used  for  catching  birds,  — 

And  when  he  took  my  hand  and  made  a  smile  — 

Why,  the  uncomfortableness  of  it  all 

Seemed  hardly  more  important  in  the  case 

Than  —  when  one  gives  you,  say,  a  coin  to  spend  — 

Its  newness  or  its  oldness  ;  if  the  piece 

Weigh  properly  and  buy  you  what  you  wish," 

No  matter  whether  you  get  grime  or  glare  ! 

Men  take  the  coin,  return  you  grapes  and  figs. 

Here,  marriage  was  the  coin,  a  dirty  piece 

Would  purchase  me  the  praise  of  those  I  loved : 

About  what  else  should  I  concern  myself  ? 

So,  hardly  knowing  what  a  husband  meant, 
I  supposed  this  or  any  man  would  serve. 
No  whit  the  worse  for  being  so  uncouth : 
For  I  was  ill  once  and  a  doctor  came 
With  a  great  ugly  hat,  no  plume  thereto, 
Black  jerkin  and  black  buckles  and  black  sword, 
And  white  sharp  beard  over  the  ruff  in  front, 
And  oh  so  lean,  so  sour-faced  and  austere  !  — 
Who  felt  my  pulse,  made  me  put  out  my  tongue. 
Then  oped  a  phial,  dripped  a  drop  or  two 
Of  a  black  bitter  something,  —  I  was  cured  ! 
What  mattered  the  fierce  beard  or  the  grim  face  ? 
It  was  the  physic  beautified  the  man. 
Master  Malpichi,  —  never  met  his  match 
In  Rome,  they  said,  —  so  ugly  aU  the  same  ! 

However,  I  was  hurried  through  a  storm. 

Next  dark  eve  of  December's  deadest  day  — 

How  it  rained  !  —  through  our  street  and  the  Lion's-mouth 

And  the  bit  of  Corso,  —  cloaked  round,  covered  close, 

I  was  like  something  strange  or  contraband,  — 

Into  blank  San  Lorenzo,  up  the  aisle. 

My  mother  keeping  hold  of  me  so  tight, 

I  fancied  we  were  come  to  see  a  corpse 

Before  the  altar  which  she  pulled  me  toward. 

There  we  found  waiting  an  unpleasant  priest 

Who  proved  the  brother,  not  our  parish  friend. 

But  one  with  mischief-making  mouth  and  eye, 

Paul,  whom  I  know  since  to  my  cost.     And  then 


POMPILIA  247 

I  heard  the  heavy  church-door  lock  out  help 
Behind  us  :  for  the  customary  warmth, 
Two  tapers  shivered  on  the  altar.     "  Quick  — 
Lose  no  time  !  "  cried  the  priest.       And  straightway  down 
From  .  .  .  what 's  behind  the  altar  where  he  hid  — 
Hawk-nose  and  yellowness  and  bush  and  all, 
Stepped  Guido,  caught  my  hand,  and  there  was  I 
O'  the  chancel,  and  the  priest  had  opened  book, 
Kead  here  and  there,  made  me  say  that  and  this, 
And  after,  told  me  I  was  now  a  wife. 
Honored  indeed,  sipce  Christ  thus  weds  the  Church, 
And  therefore  turned  he  water  into  wine, 
To  show  I  should  obey  my  spouse  like  Christ. 
Then  the  two  slipped  aside  and  talked  apart, 
And  I,  silent  and  scared,  got  down  again 
And  joined  my  mother,  who  was  weeping  now. 
Nobody  seemed  to  mind  us  any  more, 
And  both  of  us  on  tiptoe  found  our  way 
To  the  door  which  was  unlocked  by  this,  and  wide. 
"When  we  were  in  the  street,  the  rain  had  stopped, 
All  things  looked  better.     At  our  own  house-door, 
Violante  whispered,  "  No  one  syllable 
To  Pietro  !     Girl-brides  never  breathe  a  word !  " 
'  —  Well  treated  to  a  wetting,  draggle-tails  !  " 
Laughed  Pietro  as  he  opened  —  "  Very  near 
You  made  me  brave  the  gutter's  roaring  sea 
To  carry  o£B  from  roost  old  dove  and  young. 
Trussed  up  in  church,  the  cote,  by  me,  the  kite  ! 
What  do  these  priests  mean,  praying  folk  to  death 
On  stormy  afternoons,  with  Christmas  close 
To  wash  our  sins  off  nor  require  the  rain  ?  " 
Violante  gave  my  hand  a  timely  squeeze, 
Madonna  saved  me  from  immodest  speech, 
I  kissed  him  and  was  quiet,  being  a  bride. 

When  I  saw  nothing  more,  the  next  three  weeks, 
Of  Guido  —  "  Nor  the  Church  sees  Christ  "  thought  I : 
'  Nothing  is  changed  however,  wine  is  wine 
And  water  only  water  in  our  house. 
Nor  did  I  see  that  ugly  doctor  since 
That  cure  of  the  illness  :  just  as  I  was  cured, 
I  am  married,  —  neither  scarecrow  will  return." 

Three  weeks,  I  chuckled  —  "  How  would  Giulia  stare, 
And  Tecla  smile  and  Tisbe  laugh  outright. 
Were  it  not  impudent  for  brides  to  talk  !  "  — 


248  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Until  one  morning,  as  I  sat  and  sang 
At  the  broidery-frame  alone  i'  the  chamber,  —  loud 
Voices,  two,  three  together,  sobbings  too. 
And  my  name,  "  Guido,"  "  Paolo,"  flung  like  stones 
From  each  to  the  other  !     In  I  ran  to  see. 
There  stood  the  very  Guido  and  the  priest 
With  sly  face,  —  formal  but  nowise  afraid,  — 
While  Pietro  seemed  all  red  and  angry,  scarce 
Able  to  stutter  out  his  wrath  in  words ; 
And  this  it  was  that  made  my  mother  sob, 
As  he  reproached  her  —  "  You  have  murdered  us, 
Me  and  yourself  and  this  our  child  beside  !  " 
Then  Guido  interposed,  "  Murdered  or  not, 
Be  it  enough  your  child  is  now  my  wife  ! 
I  claim  and  come  to  take  her."     Paul  put  in, 
"  Consider  —  kinsman,  dare  I  term  you  so  ?  — 
What  is  the  good  of  your  sagacity 
Except  to  counsel  in  a  strait  like  this  ? 
I  guarantee  the  parties  man  and  wife 
Whether  you  like  or  loathe  it,  bless  or  ban. 
May  spilt  milk  be  put  back  within  the  bowl  — 
The  done  thing,  undone  ?     You,  it  is,  we  look 
For  counsel  to,  you  fitliest  will  advise ! 
Since  milk,  though  spilt  and  spoilt,  does  marble  good, 
Better  we  down  on  knees  and  scrub  the  floor, 
Than  sigh,  '  the  waste  would  make  a  syllabub ! ' 
Help  us  so  turn  disaster  to  account, 
So  predispose  the  groom,  he  needs  shall  grace 
The  bride  with  favor  from  the  very  first, 
Not  begin  marriage  an  embittered  man  !  " 
He  smiled,  —  the  game  so  wholly  in  his  hands ! 
While  fast  and  faster  sobbed  Violante  —  "  Ay, 
All  of  us  murdered,  past  averting  now ! 

0  my  sin,  O  my  secret !  "  and  such  like. 

Then  I  began  to  half  surmise  the  truth  ; 
Something  had  happened,  low,  mean,  underhand, 
False,  and  my  mother  was  to  blame,  and  I 
To  pity,  whom  all  spoke  of,  none  addressed  : 

1  was  the  chattel  that  had  caused  a  crime. 

I  stood  mute,  —  those  who  tangled  must  untie 

The  embroilment.     Pietro  cried,  "  Withdraw,  my  child ! 

She  is  not  helpful  to  the  sacrifice 

At  this  stage,  —  do  you  want  the  victim  by 

While  you  discuss  the  value  of  her  blood  ? 

For  her  sake,  I  consent  to  hear  you  talk : 

Go,  child,  and  pray  God  help  the  innocent !  " 


POMPILIA  249 

I  did  go  and  was  praying  God,  when  came 
Violante,  with  eyes  swollen  and  red  enough, 
But  movement  on  her  mouth  for  make-believe 
Matters  were  somehow  getting  right  again. 
She  bade  me  sit  down  by  her  side  and  hear. 
"  You  are  too  young  and  cannot  understand, 
Nor  did  your  father  understand  at  first. 
I  wished  to  benefit  all  three  of  us, 
And  when  he  failed  to  take  my  meaning,  —  why, 
I  tried  to  have  my  way  at  unaware  — 
Obtained  him  the  advantage  he  refused. 
As  if  I  put  before  him  wholesome  food 
Instead  of  broken  victual,  —  he  finds  change 
I'  the  viands,  never  cares  to  reason  why, 
But  falls  to  blaming  me,  would  fling  the  plate 
From  window,  scandalize  the  neighborhood, 
Even  while  he  smacks  his  lips,  —  men's  way,  my  child ! 
But  either  you  have  prayed  him  unperverse 
Or  I  have  talked  him  back  into  his  wits  : 
And  Paolo  was  a  help  in  time  of  need,  — 
Guido,  not  much  —  my  child,  the  way  of  men  ! 
A  priest  is  more  a  woman  than  a  man. 
And  Paul  did  wonders  to  persuade.     In  short. 
Yes,  he  was  wrong,  your  father  sees  and  says  ; 
My  scheme  was  worth  attempting :  and  bears  fruit, 
Gives  you  a  husband  and  a  noble  name, 
A  palace  and  no  end  of  pleasant  things. 
What  do  you  care  about  a  handsome  youth? 
They  are  so  volatile,  and  tease  their  wives  ! 
This  is  the  kind  of  man  to  keep  the  house. 
We  lose  no  daughter,  —  gain  a  son,  that 's  aJl : 
For 't  is  arranged  we  never  separate. 
Nor  miss,  in  our  gray  time  of  life,  the  tints 
Of  you  that  color  eve  to  match  with  morn. 
In  good  or  Ul,  we  share  and  share  alike, 
And  cast  our  lots  into  a  common  lap. 
And  all  three  die  together  as  we  lived ! 
Only,  at  Arezzo,  —  that 's  a  Tuscan  town. 
Not  so  large  as  this  noisy  Rome,  no  doubt, 
But  older  far  and  finer  much,  say  folk,  — 
In  a  great  palace  where  you  will  be  queen. 
Know  the  Archbishop  and  the  Governor, 
And  we  see  homage  done  you  ere  we  die. 
Therefore,  be  good  and  pardon  !  "  —  "  Pardon  what  ? 
You  know  things,  I  am  very  ignorant  : 
All  is  right  if  you  only  will  not  cry  !  " 


250  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  so  an  end  !     Because  a  blank  begins 

From  when,  at  the  word,  she  kissed  me  hard  and  hot, 

And  took  me  back  to  where  my  father  leaned 

Opposite  Guido  —  who  stood  eying  him, 

As  eyes  the  butcher  the  cast  panting  ox 

That  feels  his  fate  is  come,  nor  struggles  more,  — 

While  Paul  looked  archly  on,  pricked  brow  at  whUea 

With  the  pen-point  as  to  punish  triumph  there,  — 

And  said,  "  Count  Guido,  take  your  lawful  wife 

Until  death  part  you !  " 

All  since  is  one  blank, 
Over  and  ended  ;  a  terrific  dream. 
It  is  the  good  of  dreams  —  so  soon  they  go ! 
Wake  in  a  horror  of  heart-beats,  you  may  — 
Cry,  "  The  dread  thing  will  never  from  my  thoughts !  " 
Still,  a  few  daylight  doses  of  plain  life, 
Cock-crow  and  sparrow-chirp,  or  bleat  and  bell 
Of  goats  that  trot  by,  tinkling,  to  be  milked ; 
And  when  you  rub  your  eyes  awake  and  wide. 
Where  is  the  harm  o'  the  horror  ?     Gone  !     So  here. 
I  know  I  wake,  —  but  from  what  ?     Blank,  I  say  ! 
This  is  the  note  of  evil :  for  good  lasts. 
Even  when  Don  Celestine  bade  "  Search  and  find ! 
For  your  soul's  sake,  remember  what  is  past. 
The  better  to  forgive  it,"  —  aU  in  vain ! 
What  was  fast  getting  indistinct  before, 
Vanished  outright.     By  special  grace  perhaps, 
Between  that  first  calm  and  this  last,  four  years 
Vanish,  —  one  quarter  of  my  life,  you  know. 
I  am  held  up,  amid  the  nothingness. 
By  one  or  two  truths  only  —  thence  I  hang. 
And  there  I  live,  —  the  rest  is  death  or  dream, 
All  but  those  points  of  my  support.     I  think 
Of  what  I  saw  at  Rome  once  in  the  Square 
O'  the  Spaniards,  opposite  the  Spanish  House  : 
There  was  a  foreigner  had  trained  a  goat, 
A  shuddering  white  woman  of  a  beast, 
To  climb  up,  stand  straight  on  a  pile  of  sticks 
Put  close,  which  gave  the  creature  room  enough : 
When  she  was  settled  there,  he,  one  by  one. 
Took  away  aU  the  sticks,  left  just  the  four 
Whereon  the  little  hoofs  did  really  rest. 
There  she  kept  firm,  all  underneath  was  air. 
So,  what  I  hold  by,  are  my  prayer  to  God, 
My  hope,  that  came  in  answer  to  the  prayer, 


POMPILIA  251 

Some  hand  would  interpose  and  save  me  —  hand 
Which  proved  to  be  my  friend's  hand  :  and,  — blest  bliss,  — 
That  fancy  which  began  so  faint  at  first, 
That  thrill  of  dawn's  suffusion  through  my  dark, 
Which  I  perceive  was  promise  of  my  child. 
The  light  his  unborn  face  sent  long  before,  — 
God's  way  of  breaking  the  good  news  to  flesh. 
That  is  all  left  now  of  those  four  bad  years. 
Don  Celestine  urged,  "  But  remember  more ! 
Other  men's  faults  may  help  me  find  your  own. 
I  need  the  cruelty  exposed,  explained, 
Or  how  can  I  advise  you  to  forgive  ?  " 
He  thought  I  could  not  properly  forgive 
Unless  I  ceased  forgetting,  —  which  is  true : 
For,  bringing  back  reluctantly  to  mind 
My  husband's  treatment  of  me,  —  by  a  light 
That 's  later  than  my  lifetime,  I  review 
And  comprehend  much  and  imagine  more, 
And  have  but  little  to  forgive  at  last. 
For  now,  —  be  fair  and  say,  —  is  it  not  true 
He  was  ill-used  and  cheated  of  his  hope 
To  get  enriched  by  marriage  ?     Marriage  gave 
Me  and  no  money,  broke  the  compact  so : 
He  had  a  right  to  ask  me  on  those  terms. 
As  Pietro  and  Violante  to  declare 
They  would  not  give  me  :  so  the  bargain  stood : 
They  broke  it,  and  he  felt  himself  aggrieved. 
Became  unkind  with  me  to  punish  them. 
They  said  't  was  he  began  deception  first, 
Nor,  in  one  point  whereto  he  pledged  himself, 
Kept  promise  :  what  of  that,  suppose  it  were  ? 
Echoes  die  off,  scarcely  reverberate 
Forever,  —  why  should  ill  keep  echoing  iU, 
And  never  let  our  ears  have  done  with  noise  ? 
Then  my  poor  parents  took  the  violent  way 
To  thwart  him,  —  he  must  needs  retaliate,  —  wrong, 
Wrong,  and  aU  wrong,  —  better  say,  all  blind ! 
As  I  myself  was,  that  is  sure,  who  else 
Had  understood  the  mystery  :  for  his  wife 
Was  bound  in  some  sort  to  help  somehow  there. 
It  seems  as  if  I  might  have  interposed, 
Blunted  the  edge  of  their  resentment  so, 
Since  he  vexed  me  because  they  first  vexed  him ; 
«'  I  wiU  entreat  them  to  desist,  submit, 
Give  him  the  money  and  be  poor  in  peace,  — 
Certainly  not  go  tell  the  world:  perhaps 
He  will  gTOW  quiet  with  his  gains." 


252  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Yes,  say 
Something  to  this  effect  and  you  do  well ! 
But  then  you  have  to  see  first :  I  was  blind. 
That  is  the  fruit  of  all  such  wormy  ways, 
The  indirect,  the  unapproved  of  God  : 
You  cannot  find  their  author's  end  and  aim, 
Not  even  to  substitute  your  good  for  had. 
Your  straight  for  the  irregular ;  you  stand 
Stupefied,  profitless,  as  cow  or  sheep 
That  miss  a  man's  mind ;  anger  him  just  twice 
By  trial  at  repairing  the  first  fault. 
Thus,  when  he  blamed  me,  "  You  are  a  coquette, 
A  lure-owl  posturing  to  attract  birds, 
You  look  love-lures  at  theatre  and  church, 
In  walk,  at  window !  "  —  that,  I  knew,  was  false : 
But  why  he  charged  me  falsely,  whither  sought 
To  drive  me  by  such  charge,  —  how  could  I  know  ? 
So,  unaware,  I  only  made  things  worse. 
I  tried  to  soothe  him  by  abjuring  walk. 
Window,  church,  theatre,  for  good  and  all, 
As  if  he  had  been  in  earnest :   that,  you  know, 
Was  nothing  like  the  object  of  his  charge. 
Yes,  when  I  got  my  maid  to  supplicate 
The  priest,  whose  name  she  read  when  she  would  read 
Those  feigned  false  letters  I  was  forced  to  hear 
Though  I  could  read  no  word  of,  —  he  should  cease 
Writing,  —  nay,  if  he  minded  prayer  of  mine, 
Cease  from  so  much  as  even  pass  the  street 
Whereon  our  house  looked,  —  in  my  ignorance 
I  was  just  thwarting  Guido's  true  intent ; 
Which  was,  to  bring  about  a  wicked  change 
Of  sport  to  earnest,  tempt  a  thoughtless  man 
To  write  indeed,  and  pass  the  house,  and  more, 
Till  both  of  us  were  taken  in  a  crime. 
He  ought  not  to  have  wished  me  thus  act  lies, 
Simulate  f oUy  :   but  —  wrong  or  right,  the  wish  — 
I  failed  to  apprehend  its  drift.     How  plain 
It  follows,  —  if  I  fell  into  such  fault. 
He  also  may  have  overreached  the  mark, 
Made  mistake,  by  perversity  of  brain, 
I'  the  whole  sad  strange  plot,  the  grotesque  intrigue 
To  make  me  and  my  friend  unself  ourselves. 
Be  other  man  and  woman  than  we  were  ! 
Think  it  out,  you  who  have  the  time  !  for  me,  — 
I  cannot  say  less  ;  more  I  will  not  say. 
Leave  it  to  God  to  cover  and  undo ! 


POMPILIA  253 

Only,  mj''  dnlness  should  not  prove  too  inuch ! 

—  Not  prove  that  in  a  certain  other  point 
Wherein  my  husband  blamed  me,  —  and  you  blame, 
If  I  interpret  smiles  and  shakes  of  head,  — 

I  was  dull  too.     Oh,  if  I  dared  but  speak  ! 
Must  I  speak  ?     I  am  blamed  that  I  forewent 
A  way  to  make  my  husband's  favor  come. 
That  is  true  :  I  was  firm,  withstood,  refused  .  .  . 

—  Women  as  you  are,  how  can  I  find  the  words  ? 

I  felt  there  was  just  one  thing  Guido  claimed 
I  had  no  right  to  give  nor  he  to  take ; 
We  being  in  estrangement,  soul  from  soul : 
Till,  when  I  sought  help,  the  Archbishop  smiled, 
Inquiring  into  privacies  of  life, 

—  Said  I  was  blamable  —  (he  stands  for  God) 
Nowise  entitled  to  exemption  there. 

Then  I  obeyed,  —  as  surely  had  obeyed 

Were  the  injunction  "  Since  your  husband  bids, 

Swallow  the  burning  coal  he  proffers  you !  " 

But  I  did  wrong,  and  he  gave  wrong  advice 

Though  he  were  thrice  Archbishop,  —  that,  I  know  !  — 

Now  I  have  got  to  die  and  see  things  clear. 

Remember  I  was  barely  twelve  years  old  — 

A  child  at  marriage  :  I  was  let  alone 

For  weeks,  I  told  you,  lived  my  child-life  still 

Even  at  Arezzo,  when  I  woke  and  found 

First  .  .  .  but  I  need  not  think  of  that  again  — 

Over  and  ended  !     Try  and  take  the  sense 

Of  what  I  signify,  if  it  must  be  so. 

After  the  first,  my  husband,  for  hate's  sake, 

Said  one  eve,  when  the  simpler  cruelty 

Seemed  somewhat  dull  at  edge  and  fit  to  bear, 

"  We  have  been  man  and  wife  six  months  almost : 
How  long  is  this  your  comedy  to  last  ? 
Go  this  night  to  my  chamber,  not  your  own !  " 
At  which  word,  I  did  rush  —  most  true  the  charge  — 
And  gain  the  Archbishop's  house  —  he  stands  for  God  — 
And  fall  upon  my  knees  and  clasp  his  feet. 
Praying  him  hinder  what  my  estranged  soul 
Refused  to  bear,  though  patient  of  the  rest : 

"  Place  me  within  a  convent,"  I  implored  — 

"  Let  me  henceforward  lead  the  virgin  life 
Ton  praise  in  Her  you  bid  me  imitate  !  " 
What  did  he  answer  ?     "  Folly  of  ignorance  ! 
Know,  daughter,  circumstances  make  or  mar 


254  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Virginity,  —  't  is  virtue  or  't  is  vice. 

That  which  was  glory  in  the  Mother  of  God 

Had  been,  for  instance,  damnable  in  Eve 

Created  to  be  mother  of  mankind. 

Had  Eve,  in  answer  to  her  Maker's  speech 

'  Be  fruitful,  multiply,  replenish  earth  '  — 

Pouted  '  But  I  choose  rather  to  remain 

Single '  —  why,  she  had  spared  herself  forthwith 

Further  probation  by  the  apple  and  snake, 

Been  pushed  straight  out  of  Paradise !     For  see  — 

If  motherhood  be  qualified  impure, 

I  catch  you  making  God  command  Eve  sin  ! 

—  A  blasphemy  so  like  these  Molinists', 
I  must  suspect  you  dip  into  their  books." 
Then  he  pursued  "  'T  was  in  your  covenant !  " 

No  !     There  my  husband  never  used  deceit. 
He  never  did  by  speech  nor  act  imply 
"  Because  of  our  souls'  yearning  that  we  meet 
And  mix  in  soul  through  flesh,  which  yours  and  mine 
Wear  and  impress,  and  make  their  visible  selves, 

—  AU  which  means,  for  the  love  of  yon  and  me, 
Let  us  become  one  flesh,  being  one  soul !  " 

He  only  stipulated  for  the  wealth ; 

Honest  so  far.    But  when  he  spoke  as  plain  — 

Dreadfully  honest  also  —  'Since  our  souls 

Stand  each  from  each,  a  whole  world's  width  between, 

Give  me  the  fleshly  vesture  I  can  reach 

And  rend  and  leave  just  fit  for  heU  to  burn  !  "  — 

Why,  in  God's  name,  for  Guido's  soul's  own  sake 

Imperilled  by  polluting  mine,  —  I  say, 

I  did  resist ;  would  I  had  overcome  ! 

My  heart  died  out  at  the  Archbishop's  smile ; 

—  It  seemed  so  stale  and  worn  a  way  o'  the  world, 
As  though 't  were  nature  frowning  —  "  Here  is  Spring, 
The  sun  shines  as  he  shone  at  Adam's  fall. 

The  earth  requires  that  warmth  reach  everywhere : 
What,  must  your  patch  of  snow  be  saved  forsooth 
Because  you  rather  fancy  snow  than  flowers  ?  " 
Something  in  this  style  he  began  with  me. 
Last  he  said,  savagely  for  a  good  man, 
"  This  explains  why  you  call  your  husband  harsh, 
Harsh  to  you,  harsh  to  whom  you  love.     God's  Bread ! 
The  poor  Count  has  to  manage  a  mere  child 
Whose  parents  leave  untaught  the  simplest  things 
Their  duty  was  and  privilege  to  teach,  — 


POMPJLIA  255 

Goodwives'  instruction,  gossips'  lore  :  they  laugh 

And  leave  the  Count  the  task,  —  or  leave  it  me  !  " 

Then  I  resolved  to  tell  a  frightful  thing. 
"  I  am  not  ignorant,  —  know  what  I  say, 

Declaring  this  is  sought  for  hate,  not  love. 

Sir,  you  may  hear  things  like  almighty  God. 

I  tell  you  that  my  housemate,  yes  —  the  priest 

My  hushand's  brother,  Canon  Girolamo  — 

Has  taught  me  what  depraved  and  misnamed  love 

Means,  and  what  outward  signs  denote  the  sin, 

For  he  solicits  me  and  says  he  loves, 

The  idle  young  priest  with  nought  else  to  do. 

My  husband  sees  this,  knows  this,  and  lets  be. 

Is  it  your  counsel  I  bear  this  beside  ?  " 
"  —  More  scandal,  and  against  a  priest  this  time  ! 

"What,  't  is  the  Canon  now  ?  "  —  less  snappishly  — 
"  Rise  up,  my  child,  for  such  a  child  you  are, 

The  rod  were  too  advanced  a  punishment ! 

Let 's  try  the  honeyed  cake.     A  parable  ! 
'  Without  a  parable  spake  He  not  to  them.' 

There  was  a  ripe  round  long  black  toothsome  frait, 

Even  a  flower-fig,  the  prime  boast  of  May : 

And,  to  the  tree,  said  .  .  .  either  the  spirit  o'  the  fig, 

Or,  if  we  bring  in  men,  the  gardener. 

Archbishop  of  the  orchard  —  had  I  time 

To  try  o'  the  two  which  fits  in  best :  indeed 

It  might  be  the  Creator's  self,  but  then 

The  tree  should  bear  an  apple,  I  suppose,  — 

Well,  anyhow,  one  with  authority  said, 
'  Bripe  fig,  burst  skin,  regale  the  fig-pecker  — 

The  bird  whereof  thou  art  a  perquisite ! ' 
'  Nay,'  with  a  flounce,  replied  the  restif  fig, 
'  I  much  prefer  to  keep  my  pulp  myself  : 

He  may  go  breakfastless  and  dinnerless, 

Supperless  of  one  crimson  seed,  for  me  ! ' 

So,  back  she  flopped  into  her  bunch  of  leaves. 

He  flew  off,  left  her,  —  did  the  natural  lord,  — 

And  lo,  three  hundred  thousand  bees  and  wasps 

Found  her  out,  feasted  on  her  to  the  shuck : 

Such  gain  the  fig's  that  gave  its  bird  no  bite ! 

The  moral,  —  fools  elude  their  proper  lot, 

Tempt  other  fools,  get  ruined  all  aUke. 

Therefore  go  home,  embrace  your  husband  quick ! 

Which  if  his  Canon  brother  chance  to  see, 

He  will  the  sooner  back  to  book  again." 


256  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

So,  home  I  did  go ;  so,  the  worst  befell : 

So,  I  had  proof  the  Archbishop  was  just  man, 

And  hardly  that,  and  certainly  no  more. 

For,  miserable  consequence  to  me, 

My  husband's  hatred  waxed  nor  waned  at  all. 

His  brother's  boldness  grew  effrontery  soon. 

And  my  last  stay  and  comfort  in  myseK 

Was  forced  from  me  :  henceforth  I  looked  to  God 

Only,  nor  cared  my  desecrated  soul 

Should  have  fair  walls,  gay  windows  for  the  world. 

God's  glimmer,  that  came  through  the  ruin-top. 

Was  witness  why  aU  lights  were  quenched  inside  : 

Henceforth  I  asked  God  counsel,  not  mankind. 

So,  when  I  made  the  effort,  freed  myself. 

They  said  —  "  No  care  to  save  appearance  here  ! 

How  cynic,  —  when,  how  wanton,  were  enough  !  " 

—  Adding,  it  aH  came  of  my  mother's  life  — 

My  own  real  mother,  whom  I  never  knew, 

Who  did  wrong  (if  she  needs  must  have  done  wrong) 

Through  being  aU  her  life,  not  my  four  years, 

At  mercy  of  the  hateful :  every  beast 

O'  the  field  was  wont  to  break  that  fountain-fence, 

Trample  the  silver  into  mud  so  murk 

Heaven  could  not  find  itself  reflected  there. 

Now  they  cry,  "  Out  on  her,  who,  plashy  pool, 

Bequeathed  turbidity  and  bitterness 

To  the  daughter-stream  where  Guido  dipt  and  drank !  " 

Well,  since  she  had  to  bear  this  brand  —  let  me ! 

The  rather  do  I  understand  her  now,  — 

From  my  experience  of  what  hate  calls  love,  — 

Much  love  might  be  in  what  their  love  called  hate. 

If  she  sold  .  .  .  what  they  call,  sold  .  .  .  me  her  child  ■ 

I  shall  believe  she  hoped  in  her  poor  heart 

That  I  at  least  might  try  be  good  and  pure. 

Begin  to  live  untempted,  not  go  doomed 

And  done  with  ere  once  found  in  fault,  as  she. 

Oh  and,  my  mother,  it  aU  came  to  this  ? 

Why  should  I  trust  those  that  speak  iU  of  you. 

When  I  mistrust  who  speaks  even  well  of  them .' 

Why,  since  all  bound  to  do  me  good,  did  harm. 

May  not  you,  seeming  as  you  harmed  me  most. 

Have  meant  to  do  most  good  —  and  feed  your  child 

From  bramble-bush,  whom  not  one  orchard-tree 

But  drew  bough  back  from,  nor  let  one  fruit  fall  ? 


POMPILIA  257 

This  it  was  for  you  sacrificed  your  babe  ? 
Gained  just  this,  giving  your  heart's  hope  away 
As  I  might  give  mine,  loving  it  as  you, 
If  .  .  .  but  that  never  could  be  asked  of  me  ! 

There,  enough !    I  have  my  support  again, 

Again  the  knowledge  that  my  babe  was,  is, 

Will  be  mine  only.     Him,  by  death,  I  give 

Outright  to  God,  without  a  further  care,  — 

But  not  to  any  parent  in  the  world,  — 

So  to  be  safe  :  why  is  it  we  repine  ? 

What  guardianship  were  safer  could  we  choose  ? 

All  human  plans  and  projects  come  to  nought : 

My  hfe,  and  what  I  know  of  other  lives. 

Prove  that :  no  plan  nor  project !    God  shall  care ! 

And  now  you  are  not  tired  ?     How  patient  then 

All  of  you,  —  Oh  yes,  patient  this  long  while 

Listening,  and  understanding,  I  am  sure ! 

Four  days  ago,  when  I  was  sound  and  well 

And  like  to  Uve,  no  one  would  understand. 

People  were  kind,  but  smiled,  "  And  what  of  him, 

Your  friend,  whose  tonsure,  the  rich  dark-brown  hides  ? 

There,  there  !  —  your  lover,  do  we  dream  he  was  ? 

A  priest  too  —  never  were  such  naughtiness  ! 

StiU,  he  thinks  many  a  long  think,  never  fear, 

After  the  shy  pale  lady, —  lay  so  light 

For  a  moment  in  his  arms,  the  lucky  one  !  " 

And  so  on  :  wherefore  should  I  blame  you  much  ? 

So  we  are  made,  such  difference  in  minds. 

Such  difference  too  in  eyes  that  see  the  minds ! 

That  man,  you  misinterpret  and  misprise  — 

The  glory  of  his  nature,  I  had  thought, 

Shot  itself  out  in  white  light,  blazed  the  truth 

Through  every  atom  of  his  act  with  me  : 

Yet  where  I  point  you,  through  the  crystal  shrine, 

Purity  in  quintessence,  one  dew-drop, 

You  all  descry  a  spider  in  the  midst. 

One  says,  "  The  head  of  it  is  plain  to  see," 

And  one,  "  They  are  the  feet  by  which  I  judge," 

All  say,  "  Those  films  were  spun  by  nothing  else." 

Then,  I  must  lay  my  babe  away  with  God, 
Nor  think  of  him  again  for  gratitude. 
Yes,  my  last  breath  shall  whoUy  spend  itself 
In  one  attempt  more  to  disperse  the  stain. 


258  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

The  mist  from  other  breath  fond  months  have  made. 

About  a  lustrous  and  pellucid  soul : 

So  that,  when  I  am  gone  but  sorrow  stays, 

And  people  need  assurance  in  their  doubt 

If  God  yet  have  a  servant,  man  a  friend. 

The  weak  a  savior,  and  the  vile  a  foe,  — 

Let  him  be  present,  by  the  name  invoked, 

Giuseppe-Maria  Caponsacchi ! 

There, 
Strength  comes  already  with  the  utterance  ! 
I  will  remember  once  more  for  his  sake 
The  sorrow :  for  he  lives  and  is  belied. 
Could  he  be  here,  how  he  would  speak  for  me  ! 

I  had  been  miserable  three  drear  years 

In  that  dread  palace  and  lay  passive  now. 

When  I  first  learned  there  could  be  such  a  man. 

Thus  it  fell :  I  was  at  a  public  play. 

In  the  last  days  of  Carnival  last  March, 

Brought  there  I  knew  not  why,  but  now  know  well. 

My  husband  put  me  where  I  sat,  in  front ; 

Then  crouched  down,  breathed  cold  through  me  from  b© 

hind. 
Stationed  i'  the  shadow,  —  none  in  front  could  see,  — 
I,  it  was,  faced  the  stranger-throng  beneath, 
The  crowd  with  upturned  faces,  eyes  one  stare, 
Voices  one  buzz.    I  looked  but  to  the  stage, 
"Whereon  two  lovers  sang  and  interchanged 
"  True  life  is  only  love,  love  only  bliss : 
♦   I  love  thee  —  thee  I  love !  "  then  they  embraced. 
I  looked  thence  to  the  ceiling  and  the  waUs,  — 
Over  the  crowd,  those  voices  and  those  eyes,  — 
My  thoughts  went  through  the  roof  and  out,  to  Rome 
On  wings  of  music,  waft  of  measured  words,  — 
Set  me  down  there,  a  happy  child  again, 
Sure  that  to-morrow  would  be  festa-day. 
Hearing  my  parents  praise  past  festas  more, 
And  seeing  they  were  old  if  I  was  young, 
Yet  wondering  why  they  still  would  end  discourse 
With  "  We  must  soon  go,  you  abide  your  time. 
And,  — might  we  haply  see  the  proper  friend 
Throw  his  arm  over  you  and  make  you  safe  !  " 

Sudden  I  saw  him ;  into  my  lap  there  fell 
A  foolish  twist  of  comfits,  broke  my  dream 


POMPILIA  259 

And  brought  me  from  the  air  and  laid  me  low, 
As  ruined  as  the  soaring  bee  that 's  reached 
(So  Pietro  told  me  at  the  Villa  once) 
By  the  dust-handful.     There  the  comfits  lay  : 
I  looked  to  see  who  flung  them,  and  I  faced 
This  Caponsacchi,  looking  up  in  turn. 
Ere  I  could  reason  out  why,  I  felt  sure, 
Whoever  flung  them,  his  was  not  the  hand,  — 
Up  rose  the  round  face  and  good-natured  grin 
Of  one  who,  in  effect,  had  played  the  prank, 
From  covert  close  beside  the  earnest  face,  — 
Fat  waggish  Conti,  friend  of  all  the  world. 
He  was  my  husband's  cousin,  privileged 
To  throw  the  thing :    the  other,  silent,  grave, 
Solemn  almost,  saw  me,  as  I  saw  him. 

There  is  a  psalm  Don  Celestine  recites, 
"  Had  I  a  dove's  wings,  how  I  fain  would  flee !  " 
The  psalm  runs  not  "  I  hope,  I  pray  for  wings,"  — 
Not  "  If  wings  fall  from  heaven,  I  fix  them  fast,"  — 
Simply  "  How  good  it  were  to  fly  and  rest, 
Have  hope  now,  and  one  day  expect  content ! 
How  well  to  do  what  I  shall  never  do  !  " 
So  I  said,  "  Had  there  been  a  man  like  that, 
To  lift  me  with  his  strength  out  of  all  strife 
Into  the  calm,  how  I  could  fly  and  rest ! 
I  have  a  keeper  in  the  garden  here 
Whose  sole  employment  is  to  strike  me  low 
If  ever  I,  for  solace,  seek  the  sun. 
Life  means  with  me  successful  feigning  death, 
Lying  stone-like,  eluding  notice  so, 
Foregoing  here  the  turf  and  there  the  sky. 
Suppose  that  man  had  been  instead  of  this !  " 

Presently  Conti  laughed  into  my  ear, 
—  Had  tripped  up  to  the  raised  place  where  I  sat  — 
"  Cousin,  I  flung  them  brutishly  and  hard ! 
Because  you  must  be  hurt,  to  look  austere 
As  Caponsacchi  yonder,  my  tall  friend 
A-gazing  now.     Ah,  Guide,  you  so  close  ? 
Keep  on  your  knees,  do  !     Beg  her  to  forgive ! 
My  cornet  battered  like  a  cannon-ball. 
Good-bye,  I  'm  gone  !  "  —  nor  waited  the  reply. 

That  night  at  supper,  out  my  husband  broke, 
"  Why  was  that  throwing,  that  buffoonery  ? 


260  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Do  you  think  I  am  your  dupe  ?     What  man  would  dare 

Throw  comfits  in  a  stranger  lady's  lap  ? 

'T  was  knowledge  of  you  bred  such  insolence 

In  Caponsacchi ;  he  dared  shoot  the  bolt, 

Using  that  Conti  for  his  stalking-horse. 

How  could  you  see  him  this  once  and  no  more, 

When  he  is  always  haunting  hereabout 

At  the  street-corner  or  the  palace-side, 

Publishing  my  shame  and  your  impudence  ? 

You  are  a  wanton,  —  la  dupe,  you  think  ? 

0  Christ,  what  hinders  that  I  kill  her  quick  ?  " 
Whereat  he  drew  his  sword  and  feigned  a  thrust. 

All  this,  now,  —  being  not  so  strange  to  me. 
Used  to  such  misconception  day  by  day 
And  broken-in  to  bear,  —  I  bore,  this  time, 
More  quietly  than  woman  should  perhaps ; 
Repeated  the  mere  truth  and  held  my  tongue. 

Then  he  said,  "  Since  you  play  the  ignorant, 

1  shall  instruct  you.     This  amour,  —  commenced 
Or  finished  or  midway  in  act,  all 's  one,  — 

'T  is  the  town-talk  ;  so  my  revenge  shall  be. 
Does  he  presume  because  he  is  a  priest  ? 
I  warn  him  that  the  sword  I  wear  shall  pink 
His  lily-scented  cassock  through  and  through. 
Next  time  I  catch  him  underneath  your  eaves !  " 
But  he  had  threatened  with  the  sword  so  oft 
And,  after  all,  not  kept  his  promise.     All 
I  said  was,  "  Let  God  save  the  innocent ! 
Moreover,  death  is  far  from  a  bad  fate. 
I  shall  go  pray  for  you  and  me,  not  him ; 
And  then  I  look  to  sleep,  come  death  or,  worse, 
Life."     So,  I  slept. 

There  may  have  elapsed  a  week, 
When  Margherita,  —  called  my  waiting-maid, 
Whom  it  is  said  my  husband  found  too  fair  — 
Who  stood  and  heard  the  charge  and  the  reply, 
Who  never  once  would  let  the  matter  rest 
From  that  night  forward,  but  rang  changes  still 
On  this  the  thrust  and  that  the  shame,  and  how 
Good  cause  for  jealousy  cures  jealous  fools, 
And  what  a  paragon  was  this  same  priest 
She  talked  about  until  I  stopped  my  ears,  — 
She  said,  "  A  week  is  gone  ;  you  comb  your  hair, 


POMPILIA  261 

Then  go  mope  in  a  corner,  cheek  on  palm, 

Till  night  comes  round  again,  —  so,  waste  a  week 

As  if  your  husband  menaced  you  in  sport. 

Have  not  I  some  acquaintance  with  his  tricks  ? 

Oh  no,  he  did  not  stab  the  serving-man 

Who  made  and  sang  the  rhymes  about  me  once ! 

For  why?     They  sent  him  to  the  wars  next  day. 

Nor  poisoned  he  the  foreigner,  my  friend, 

"Who  wagered  on  the  whiteness  of  my  breast,  — 

The  swarth  skins  of  our  city  in  dispute  : 

For,  though  he  paid  me  proper  compliment. 

The  Count  well  knew  he  was  besotted  with 

Somebody  else,  a  skin  as  black  as  ink, 

(As  all  the  town  knew  save  my  foreigner)  — 

He  found  and  wedded  presently,  —  *  Why  need 

Better  revenge  ? '  —  the  Count  asked.>   But  what 's  here  ? 

A  priest  that  does  not  fight,  and  cannot  wed. 

Yet  must  be  dealt  with  !     If  the  Count  took  fire 

For  the  poor  pastime  of  a  minute,  —  me  — 

What  were  the  conflagration  for  yourself, 

Countess  and  lady-wife  and  all  the  rest  ? 

The  priest  will  perish ;  you  will  grieve  too  late : 

So  shall  the  city-ladies'  handsomest 

Frankest  and  liberalest  gentleman 

Die  for  you,  to  appease  a  scurvy  dog 

Hanging 's  too  good  for.     Is  there  no  escape  ? 

Were  it  not  simple  Christian  charity 

To  warn  the  priest  be  on  his  guard,  —  save  him 

Assured  death,  save  yourself  from  causing  it  ? 

I  meet  him  in  the  street.     Give  me  a  glove, 

A  ring  to  show  for  token !     Mum  's  the  word !  " 

I  answered,  "If  you  were,  as  styled,  my  maid, 
I  would  command  you :  as  you  are,  you  say. 
My  husband's  intimate,  —  assist  his  wife 
Who  can  do  nothing  but  entreat  '  Be  still ! ' 
Even  if  you  speak  truth  and  a  crime  is  planned, 
Leave  help  to  God  as  I  am  forced  to  do ! 
There  is  no  other  help  or  we  should  craze, 
Seeing  such  evil  with  no  human  cure. 
Reflect  that  God,  who  makes  the  storm  desist. 
Can  make  an  angry  violent  heart  subside. 
Why  should  we  venture  teach  Him  governance  ? 
Never  address  me  on  this  subject  more !  " 

Next  night  she  said,  "  But  I  went,  all  the  same, 
Ay,  saw  your  Caponsacchi  in  his  house, 


262  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  come  back  stuffed  with  news  I  must  outpour. 
I  told  him,  '  Sir,  my  mistress  is  a  stone  : 
Why  should  you  harm  her  for  no  good  you  get  ? 
For  you  do  harm  her — prowl  about  our  place 
With  the  Count  never  distant  half  the  street, 
Lurking  at  every  corner,  would  you  look ! 
'T  is  certain  she  has  witched  you  with  a  spell. 
Are  there  not  other  beauties  at  your  beck  ? 
We  all  know,  Donna  This  and  Monna  That 
Die  for  a  glance  of  yours,  yet  here  you  gaze  ! 
Go  make  them  grateful,  leave  the  stone  its  cold  ! ' 
And  he  —  oh,  he  turned  first  white  and  then  red, 
And  then  — '  To  her  behest  I  bow  inyself , 
Whom  I  love  with  my  body  and  my  soul : 
Only  a  word  i'  the  bowing  !     See,  I  write 
One  little  word,  no  harm  to  see  or  hear  ! 
Then,  fear  no  further !  '     This  is  what  he  wrote. 
I  know  you  cannot  read,  —  therefore,  let  me ! 
'My  idol!'"  .  .  . 

But  I  took  it  from  her  hand 
And  tore  it  into  shreds.     "  Why,  join  the  rest 
Who  harm  me  ?     Have  I  ever  done  you  wrong  ? 
People  have  told  me  't  is  you  wrong  myself  : 
Let  it  suffice  I  either  feel  no  wrong 
Or  else  forgive  it,  —  yet  you  turn  my  foe  ! 
The  others  hunt  me  and  you  throw  a  noose  !  " 

She  muttered,  "  Have  your  wilful  way  !  "    I  slept. 

Whereupon  .  .  .  no,  I  leave  my  husband  out ! 
It  is  not  to  do  him  more  hurt,  I  speak. 
Let  it  suffice,  when  misery  was  most, 
One  day,  I  swooned  and  got  a  respite  so. 
She  stooped  as  I  was  slowly  coming  to, 
This  Margherita,  ever  on  my  trace, 
And  whispered  —  "  Caponsacchi !  " 

If  I  drowned, 
But  woke  afloat  i'  the  wave  with  upturned  eyes, 
And  found  their  first  sight  was  a  star !   I  turned  — 
For  the  first  time,  I  let  her  have  her  wUl, 
Heard  passively,  —  "  The  imposthume  at  such  head, 
One  touch,  one  lancet-puncture  would  relieve,  — 
And  still  no  glance  the  good  physician's  way 
Who  rids  you  of  the  torment  in  a  trice  ! 


POMPILIA  263 

Still  he  writes  letters  you  refuse  to  hear. 
He  may  prevent  your  husband,  kill  himself, 
So  desperate  and  all  fordone  is  he ! 
Just  hear  the  pretty  verse  he  made  to-day  ! 
A  sonnet  from  Mirtillo.     '  Peerless  fair.  .  .    ' 
All  poetry  is  difficult  to  read, 

—  The  sense  of  it  is,  anyhow,  he  seeks 
Leave  to  contrive  you  an  escape  from  hell, 
And  for  that  purpose  asks  an  interview. 

1  can  write,  I  can  grant  it  in  your  name. 
Or,  what  is  better,  lead  you  to  his  house. 
Your  husband  dashes  you  against  the  stones  ; 
This  man  would  place  each  fragment  in  a  shrine  : 
You  hate  him,  love  your  husband  !  " 

I  returned, 
"  It  is  not  true  I  love  my  husband,  —  no, 
Nor  hate  this  man.     I  listen  while  you  speak, 

—  Assured  that  what  you  say  is  false,  the  same : 
Much  as  when  once,  to  me  a  little  child, 

A  rough  gaunt  man  in  rags,  with  eyes  on  fire, 
A  crowd  of  boys  and  idlers  at  his  heels, 
Rushed  as  I  crossed  the  Square,  and  held  my  head 
In  his  two  hands,  '  Here 's  she  will  let  me  speak ! 
You  httle  girl,  whose  eyes  do  good  to  mine, 
I  am  the  Pope,  am  Sextus,  now  the  Sixth ; 
And  that  Twelfth  Innocent,  proclaimed  to-day, 
Is  Lucifer  disguised  in  human  flesh  ! 
The  angels,  met  in  conclave,  crowned  me  !  '  —  thus 
He  gibbered  and  I  listened ;  but  I  knew 
AU  was  delusion,  ere  folk   interposed, 
'  Unfasten  him,  the  maniac  ! '     Thus  I  know 
All  your  report  of  Caponsacchi  false, 
FoUy  or  dreaming ;  I  have  seen  so  much 
By  that  adventure  at  the  spectacle. 
The  face  I  fronted  that  one  first,  last  time  : 
He  would  belie  it  by  such  words  and  thoughts. 
Therefore  while  you  profess  to  show  him  me, 
I  ever  see  his  own  face.     Get  you  gone !  " 

«  —  That  will  I,  nor  once  open  mouth  again,  — 
No,  by  Samt  Joseph  and  the  Holy  Ghost ! 
On  your  head  be  tiie  damage,  so  adieu  !  " 

And  so  more  days,  more  deeds  I  must  forget, 
Till  .  .  .  what  a  strange  thing  now  is  to  declare  ! 
Since  I  say  anything,  say  all  if  true ! 


264  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

And  how  my  life  seems  lengthened  as  to  serve ! 
It  may  be  idle  or  inopportune, 
But,  true  ?  —  why,  what  was  all  I  said  but  truth. 
Even  when  I  found  that  such  as  are  untrue 
Could  only  take  the  truth  in  through  a  he  ? 
Now  —  I  am  speaking  truth  to  the  Truth's  self : 
God  wlU  lend  credit  to  my  words  this  time. 

It  had  got  half  through  April.     I  arose 
One  vivid  daybreak,  —  who  had  gone  to  bed 
In  the  old  way  my  wont  those  last  three  years, 
Careless  untU,  the  cup  drained,  I  should  die. 
The  last  sound  in  my  ear,  the  over-night. 
Had  been  a  something  let  drop  on  the  sly 
In  prattle  by  Margherita,  "  Soon  enough 
Gayeties  end,  now  Easter 's  past :  a  week, 
And  the  Archbishop  gets  him  back  to  Rome,  — 
Every  one  leaves  the  town  for  Rome,  this  Spring,  — 
Even  Caponsacehi,  out  of  heart  and  hope, 
Resigns  himself  and  follows  with  the  flock." 
I  heard  this  drop  and  drop  like  rain  outside 
Fast-falling  through  the  darkness  while  she  spoke  : 
So  had  I  heard  with  like  indifference, 
"  And  Michael's  pair  of  wings  will  arrive  first 
At  Rome,  to  introduce  the  company. 
And  bear  him  from  our  picture  where  he  fights 
Satan,  —  expect  to  have  that  dragon  loose 
And  never  a  defender  !  "  —  my  sole  thought 
Being  still,  as  night  came,  "  Done,  another  day ! 
How  good  to  sleep  and  so  get  nearer  death !  "  — 
When,  what,  first  thing  at  daybreak,  pierced  the  sleep 
With  a  summons  to  me  ?     Up  I  sprang  alive. 
Light  in  me,  light  without  me,  everywhere 
Change !     A  broad  yellow  sunbeam  was  let  fall 
From  heaven  to  earth,  —  a  sudden  drawbridge  lay, 
Along  which  marched  a  myriad  merry  motes. 
Mocking  the  flies  that  crossed  them  and  recrossed 
In  rival  dance,  companions  new-born  too. 
On  the  house-eaves,  a  dripping  shag  of  weed 
Shook  diamonds  on  each  duU  gray  lattice-square. 
As  fiirst  one,  then  another  bird  leapt  by, 
And  light  was  off,  and  lo  was  back  again. 
Always  with  one  voice,  —  where  are  two  such  joys  ?  — 
The  blessed  building-sparrow !     I  stepped  forth, 
Stood  on  the  terrace,  —  o'er  the  roofs,  such  sky  ! 
My  heart  sang,  "  I  too  am  to  go  away, 


POMPILIA  265 

I  too  have  something  I  must  care  about, 

Carry  away  with  me  to  Rome,  to  Rome  ! 

The  bird  brings  hither  sticks  and  hairs  and  wool. 

And  nowhere  else  i'  the  world ;  what  fly  breaks  rank, 

Falls  out  of  the  procession  that  befits. 

From  window  here  to  window  there,  with  all 

The  world  to  choose,  —  so  well  he  knows  his  course  ? 

I  have  my  purpose  and  my  motive  too. 

My  march  to  Rome,  hke  any  bird  or  fly ! 

Had  I  been  dead  !     How  right  to  be  alive  ! 

Last  night  I  almost  prayed  for  leave  to  die. 

Wished  Guido  all  his  pleasure  with  the  sword 

Or  the  poison,  —  poison,  sword,  was  but  a  trick, 

Harmless,  may  God  forgive  him  the  poor  jest ! 

My  life  is  charmed,  will  last  tiU  I  reach  Rome  I 

Yesterday,  but  for  the  sin,  —  ah,  nameless  be 

The  deed  I  could  have  dared  against  myself  ! 

Now  —  see  if  I  wUl  touch  an  unripe  fruit. 

And  risk  the  health  I  want  to  have  and  use ! 

Not  to  live,  now,  would  be  the  wickedness,  — 

For  life  means  to  make  haste  and  go  to  Rome 

And  leave  Arezzo,  leave  all  woes  at  once ! " 

Now,  understand  here,  by  no  means  mistake ! 
Long  ago  had  I  tried  to  leave  that  house 
When  it  seemed  such  procedure  would  stop  sin ; 
And  still  failed  more  the  more  I  tried  —  at  first 
The  Archbishop,  as  I  told  you,  —  next,  our  lord 
The  Governor,  —  indeed  I  found  my  way, 
I  went  to  the  great  palace  where  he  rules. 
Though  I  knew  well 't  was  he  who,  —  when  I  gave 
A  jewel  or  two,  themselves  had  given  me, 
Back  to  my  parents,  —  since  they  wanted  bread, 
They  who  had  never  let  me  want  a  nosegay,  —  he 
Spoke  of  the  jail  for  felons,  if  they  kept 
What  was  first  theirs,  then  mine,  so  doubly  theirs. 
Though  all  the  while  my  husband's  most  of  all ! 
I  knew  well  who  had  spoke  the  word  wrought  this! 
Yet,  being  in  extremity,  I  fled 
To  the  Governor,  as  I  say,  —  scarce  opened  lip 
When  —  the  cold  cruel  snicker  close  behind  — 
Guido  was  on  my  trace,  already  there, 
Exchanging  nod  and  wink  for  shrug  and  smile. 
And  I  —  pushed  back  to  him  and,  for  my  pains, 
Paid  with  .  .  .  but  why  remember  what  is  past  ? 
I  sought  out  a  poor  friar  the  people  call 


266  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  Boman,  and  confessed  my  sin  which  came 
Of  their  sin,  —  that  fact  could  not  be  repressed,  ■— 
The  f  rightf  uhiess  of  my  despair  in  God : 
And  feeling,  through  the  grate,  his  horror  shake, 
Implored  him,  "  Write  for  me  who  cannot  write, 
Apprise  my  parents,  make  them  rescue  me  ! 
You  bid  me  be  courageous  and  trust  God  : 
Do  you  in  turn  dare  somewhat,  trust  and  write, 
'  Dear  friends,  who  used  to  be  my  parents  once, 
And  now  declare  you  have  no  part  in  me, 
This  is  some  riddle  I  want  wit  to  solve. 
Since  you  must  love  me  with  no  difference. 
Even  suppose  you  altered,  —  there  's  your  hate, 
To  ask  for  :  hate  of  you  two  dearest  ones 
I  shall  find  liker  love  than  love  found  here. 
If  husbands  love  their  wives.     Take  me  away 
And  hate  me  as  you  do  the  gnats  and  fleas. 
Even  the  scorpions  !     How  I  shall  rejoice  ! ' 
Write  that  and  save  me !  "     And  he  promised  —  wrote 
Or  did  not  write ;  things  never  changed  at  all : 
He  was  not  like  the  Augustinian  here  ! 
Last,  in  a  desperation  I  appealed 
To  friends,  whoever  wished  me  better  days, 
To  Guillichini,  that 's  of  kin,  —  "  What,  I  — 
Travel  to  Rome  with  you  ?     A  flying  gout 
Bids  me  deny  my  heart  and  mind  my  leg  !  " 
Then  I  tried  Conti,  used  to  brave  —  laugh  back 
The  louring  thunder  when  his  cousin  scowled 
At  me  protected  by  his  presence  :   "  You  — 
Who  well  know  what  you  cannot  save  me  from,  — 
Carry  me  off  !     What  frightens  you,  a  priest  ?  " 
He  shook  his  head,  looked  grave  —  "  Above  my  strength ! 
Guide  has  claws  that  scratch,  shows  feline  teeth ; 
A  formidabler  foe  than  I  dare  fret : 
Give  me  a  dog  to  deal  with,  twice  the  size ! 
Of  course  I  am  a  priest  and  Canon  too. 
But  ...  by  the  bye  .  .  .  though  both,  not  quite  so  bold 
As  he,  my  fellow-Canon,  brother-priest, 
The  personage  in  such  ill  odor  here 
Because  of  the  reports  —  pure  birth  o'  the  brain  I 
Our  Caponsacchi,  he  's  your  true  Saint  George 
To  slay  the  monster,  set  the  Princess  free. 
And  have  the  whole  High- Altar  to  himself : 
I  always  think  so  when  I  see  that  piece 
I'  the  Pieve,  that 's  his  church  and  mine,  you  know : 
Though  you  drop  eyes  at  mention  of  his  name  !  " 


POMPILIA  267 

That  name  had  got  to  take  a  half-grotesque 

Half-ominous,  wholly  enigmatic  sense, 

Like  any  by-word,  broken  bit  of  song 

Born  with  a  meaning,  changed  by  mouth  and  mouth 

That  mix  it  in  a  sneer  or  smile,  as  chance 

Bids,  till  it  now  means  nought  but  ugliness 

And  perhaps  shame. 

—  All  this  intends  to  say, 
That,  over-night,  the  notion  of  escape 
Had  seemed  distemper,  dreaming  ;  and  the  name,  — 
Not  the  man,  but  the  name  of  him,  thus  made 
Into  a  mockery  and  disgrace,  —  why,  she 
"Who  uttered  it  persistently,  had  laughed, 
"  I  name  his  name,  and  there  you  start  and  wince 
As  criminal  from  the  red  tongs'  touch !  "  —  yet  now. 
Now,  as  I  stood  letting  morn  bathe  me  bright. 
Choosing  which  butterfly  should  bear  my  news,  — 
The  white,  the  brown  one,  or  that  tinier  blue,  — 
The  Margherita,  I  detested  so, 

In  she  came  —  "  The  fine  day,  the  good  Spring  time ! 
What,  up  and  out  at  window  ?     That  is  best. 
No  thought  of  Caponsacchi  ?  —  who  stood  there 
All  night  on  one  leg,  like  the  sentry  crane, 
Under  the  pelting  of  your  water-spout  — 
Looked  last  look  at  your  lattice  ere  he  leave 
Our  city,  bury  his  dead  hope  at  Rome. 
Ay,  go  to  looking-glass  and  make  you  fine, 
While  he  may  die  ere  touch  one  least  loose  hair 
You  drag  at  with  the  comb  in  such  a  rage !  " 

I  turned  —  "  Tell  Caponsacchi  he  may  come !  " 

"  TeU  him  to  come  ?     Ah,  but,  for  charity, 
A  truce  to  fooling  !     Come  ?     What,  —  come  this  eve  ? 
Peter  and  Paul !     But  I  see  through  the  trick ! 
Yes,  come,  and  take  a  flower-pot  on  his  head. 
Flung  from  your  terrace  !     No  joke,  sincere  truth  ?  " 

How  plainly  I  perceived  hell  flash  and  fade 

O'  the  face  of  her,  —  the  doubt  that  first  paled  joy, 

Then,  final  reassurance  I  indeed 

Was  caught  now,  never  to  be  free  again ! 

What  did  I  care  ?  —  who  felt  myself  of  force 

To  play  with  silk,  and  spurn  the  horsehair-springe. 


268  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

"But  —  do  you  know  that  I  have  bade  him  come, 
And  in  your  own  name  ?     I  presumed  so  much, 
Knowing  the  thing  you  needed  in  your  heart. 
But  somehow  —  what  had  I  to  show  in  proof  ? 
He  would  not  come  :  half-promised,  that  was  all, 
And  wrote  the  letters  you  refused  to  read. 
"What  is  the  message  that  shall  move  him  now  ?  " 

"  After  the  Ave  Maria,  at  first  dark, 

I  wiU  be  standing  on  the  terrace,  say ! " 
"  I  would  I  had  a  good  long  lock  of  hair 

Should  prove  I  was  not  lying  !     Never  mind  !  " 

Off  she  went  —  "  May  he  not  refuse,  that 's  aU  — 
Fearing  a  trick !  " 

I  answered,  "  He  will  come." 
And,  all  day,  I  sent  prayer  like  incense  up 
To  God  the  strong,  God  the  beneficent, 
God  ever  mindful  in  all  strife  and  strait. 
Who,  for  our  own  good,  makes  the  need  extreme. 
Till  at  the  last  He  puts  forth  might  and  saves. 
An  old  rhyme  came  into  my  head  and  rang 
Of  how  a  virgin,  for  the  faith  of  God, 
Hid  herself,  from  the  Paynims  that  pursued. 
In  a  cave's  heart ;  until  a  thunderstone. 
Wrapped  in  a  flame,  revealed  the  couch  and  prey : 
And  they  laughed  —  "  Thanks  to  lightning,  ours  at  last  \ 
And  she  cried,  "  Wrath  of  God,  assert  His  love  ! 
Servant  of  God,  thou  fire,  befriend  His  child  !  " 
And  lo,  the  fire  she  grasped  at,  fixed  its  flash. 
Lay  in  her  hand  a  ca!lm  cold  dreadful  sword 
She  brandished  till  pursuers  strewed  the  ground. 
So  did  the  souls  within  them  die  away. 
As  o'er  the  prostrate  bodies,  sworded,  safe. 
She  walked  forth  to  the  solitudes  and  Christ : 
So  should  I  grasp  the  lightning  and  be  saved ! 

And  still,  as  the  day  wore,  the  trouble  grew 
Whereby  I  guessed  there  would  be  born  a  star, 
Until  at  an  intense  throe  of  the  dusk, 
I  started  up,  was  pushed,  I  dare  to  say. 
Out  on  the  terrace,  leaned  and  looked  at  last 
Where  the  deliverer  waited  me :  the  same 
Silent  amd  solemn  face,  I  first  descried 
At  the  spectacle,  confronted  mine  once  more. 


POMPILIA  269 

So  was  that  minute  twice  vouchsafed  me,  so 

The  manhood,  wasted  then,  was  still  at  watch 

To  save  me  yet  a  second  time  :  no  change 

Here,  though  all  else  changed  in  the  changing  world  I 

I  spoke  on  the  instant,  as  my  duty  bade. 
In  some  such  sense  as  this,  whatever  the  phrase. 
"  Friend,  foolish  words  were  borne  from  you  to  me ; 
Your  soul  behind  them  is  the  pure  strong  wind. 
Not  dust  and  feathers  which  its  breath  may  bear : 
These  to  the  witless  seem  the  wind  itself, 
Since  proving  thus  the  first  of  it  they  feel. 
If  by  mischance  you  blew  offence  my-way. 
The  straws  are  diopt,  the  wind  desists  no  whit. 
And  how  such  strays  were  caught  up  in  the  street 
And  took  a  motion  from  you,  why  inquire  ? 
I  speak  to  the  strong  soul,  no  weak  disguise. 
If  it  be  truth,  —  why  should  I  doubt  it  truth  ?  — 
You  serve  God  specially,  as  priests  are  bound, 
And  care  about  me,  stranger  as  I  am. 
So  far  as  wish  my  good,  —  that  miracle 
I  take  to  intimate  He  wiUs  you  serve 
By  saving  me,  —  what  else  can  He  direct  ? 
Here  is  the  service.     Since  a  long  while  now, 
I  am  in  course  of  being  put  to  death : 
"WhUe  death  concerned  nothing  but  me,  I  bowed 
The  head  and  bade,  in  heart,  my  husband  strike. 
Now  I  imperil  something  more,  it  seems, 
Something  that 's  trulier  me  than  this  myself, 
Something  1  trust  in  God  and  you  to  save. 
You  go  to  Rome,  they  teU  me :  take  me  there, 
Put  me  back  with  my  people  !  " 

He  replied  — 
The  first  word  I  heard  ever  from  his  lips, 
All  himself  in  it,  —  an  eternity 
Of  speech,  to  match  the  Immeasurable  depth 
O'  the  soul  that  then  broke  silence  —  "  I  am  yours." 

So  did  the  star  rise,  soon  to  lead  my  step. 
Lead  on,  nor  pause  before  it  should  stand  still 
Above  the  House  o'  the  Babe,  — my  babe  to  be, 
That  knew  me  first  and  thus  made  me  know  him. 
That  had  his  right  of  life  and  claim  on  mine. 
And  would  not  let  me  die  till  he  was  born. 
But  pricked  me  at  the  heart  to  save  us  both, 


270  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Saying,  "  Have  you  the  will  ?  Leave  God  the  way !  " 
And  the  way  was  Caponsacchi  —  "  mine,"  thank  God ! 
He  was  mine,  he  is  mine,  he  will  be  mine. 

No  pause  i'  the  leading  and  the  light !  I  know. 
Next  night  there  was  a  cloud  came,  and  not  he  : 
But  I  prayed  through  the  darkness  till  it  broke 
And  let  him  shine.     The  second  night,  he  came. 

"  The  plan  is  rash ;  the  project  desperate : 
In  such  a  flight  needs  must  I  risk  your  life, 
Give  food  for  falsehood,  folly  or  mistake, 
Ground  for  your  husband's  rancor  and  revenge  "  — 
So  he  began  again,  with  the  same  face. 
I  felt  that,  the  same  loyalty  —  one  star 
Turning  now  red  that  was  so  white  before  — 
One  service  apprehended  newly :  just 
A  word  of  mine  and  there  the  white  was  back ! 

"  No,  friend,  for  you  will  take  me  !     'T  is  yourself 
Risk  all,  not  I,  —  who  let  you,  for  I  trust 
In  the  compensating  great  God :  enough  ! 
I  know  you  :  when  is  it  that  you  will  come  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  at  the  day's  dawn."     Then  I  heard 
What  I  should  do :  how  to  prepare  for  flight 
And  where  to  fly. 

That  night  my  husband  bade, 
"  —  You,  whom  I  loathe,  beware  you  break  my  sleep 
This  whole  night !     Couch  beside  me  like  the  corpse 
I  would  you  were  !  "     The  rest  you  know,  I  think  — 
How  I  found  Caponsacchi  and  escaped. 

And  this  man,  men  call  sinner  ?     Jesus  Christ ! 
Of  whom  men  said,  with  mouths  Thyself  mad'st  once, 
"  He  hath  a  devil "  —  say  he  was  Thy  saint. 
My  Caponsacchi !     Shield  and  show  —  unshroud 
In  Thine  own  time  the  glory  of  the  soul 
If  aught  obscure,  —  if  ink-spot,  from  vile  pens 
Scribbling  a  charge  against  him  —  (I  was  glad 
Then,  for  the  first  time,  that  I  could  not  write)  — 
Flirted  his  way,  have  flecked  the  blaze ! 

For  me, 
'T  is  otherwise  :  let  men  take,  sift  my  thoughts 
—  Thoughts  I  throw  like  the  flax  for  sun  to  bleach' 


POMPILIA  271 

I  did  pray,  do  pray,  in  the  prayer  shall  die, 
"  Oh,  to  have  Caponsacchi  for  my  guide  !  " 
Ever  the  face  upturned  to  minej  the  hand 
Holding  my  hand  across  the  world,  —  a  sense 
That  reads,  as  only  such  can  read,  the  mark 
God  sets  on  woman,  signifying  so 
She  should  —  shall  peradventure  —  be  divine  ; 
Yet  'ware,  the  whUe,  how  weakness  mars  the  print 
And  makes  confusion,  leaves  the  thing  men  see, 
—  Not  this  man  sees,  —  who  from  his  soul,  re-writes 
The  obliterated  charter,  —  love  and  strength 
Mending  what 's  marred.     "  So  kneels  a  votarist, 
Weeds  some  poor  waste  traditionary  plot 
Where  shrine  once  was,  where  temple  yet  may  be, 
Purging  the  place  but  worshipping  the  while. 
By  faith  and  not  by  sight,  sight  clearest  so,  — 
Such  way  the  saints  work,"  —  says  Don  Celestine. 
But  I,  not  privileged  to  see  a  saint 
Of  old  when  such  walked  earth  with  crown  and  palm, 
If  I  call  "  saint  "  what  saints  call  something  else  — 
The  saints  must  bear  with  me,  impute  the  fault 
To  a  soul  i'  the  bud,  so  starved  by  ignorance. 
Stinted  of  warmth,  it  wiU  not  blow  this  year 
Nor  recognize  the  orb  which  Spring-flowers  know. 
But  if  meanwhile  some  insect  with  a  heart 
Worth  floods  of  lazy  music,  spendthrift  joy  — 
Some  fire-fly  renounced  Spring  for  my  dwarfed  cup, 
Crept  close  to  me,  brought  lustre  for  the  dark. 
Comfort  against  the  cold,  —  what  though  excess 
Of  comfort  should  miscall  the  creature  —  sun  ? 
What  did  the  sun  to  hinder  while  harsh  hands 
Petal  by  petal,  crude  and  colorless. 
Tore  me  ?     This  one  heart  gave  me  all  the  Spring  ! 

Is  aU  told  ?     There  's  the  journey :  and  where  's  time 
To  teU  you  how  that  heart  burst  out  in  shine  ? 
Yet  certain  points  do  press  on  me  too  hard. 
Each  place  must  have  a  name,  though  I  forget : 
How  strange  it  was  —  there  where  the  plain  begins 
And  the  small  river  mitigates  its  flow  — 
When  eve  was  fading  fast,  and  my  soul  sank, 
And  he  divined  what  surge  of  bitterness, 
In  overtaking  me,  would  float  me  back 
Whence  I  was  carried  by  the  striding  day  — 
So,  —  "  This  gray  place  was  famous  once,"  said  he  — 
And  he  began  that  legend  of  the  place 


272  THE  RING  AND- THE  BOOK 

As  if  in  answer  to  the  unspoken  fear, 

And  told  me  all  about  a  brave  man  dead, 

Which  lifted  me  and  let  my  soul  go  on  ! 

How  did  he  know  too  —  at  that  town's  approach 

By  the  rock-side  —  that  in  coming  near  the  signs 

Of  life,  the  house-roofs  and  the  church  and  tower, 

I  saw  the  old  boundary  and  wall  o'  the  world 

Kise  plain  as  ever  round  me,  hard  and  cold, 

As  if  the  broken  circlet  joined  again. 

Tightened  itself  about  me  with  no  break,  — 

As  if  the  town  would  turn  Ai-ezzo's  self,  — 

The  husband  there,  —  the  friends  my  enemies, 

All  ranged  against  me,  not  an  avenue 

To  try,  but  would  be  blocked  and  drive  me  back 

On  him,  —  this  other,  ...  oh  the  heart  in  that ! 

Did  not  he  find,  bring,  put  into  my  arms 

A  new-born  babe  ?  —  and  I  saw  faces  beam 

Of  the  young  mother  proud  to  teach  me  joy, 

And  gossips  round  expecting  my  surprise 

At  the  sudden  hole  through  earth  that  lets  in  heaven. 

I  could  beUeve  himself  by  his  strong  will 

Had  woven  around  me  what  I  thought  the  world 

We  went  along  in,  every  circumstance. 

Towns,  flowers  and  faces,  all  things  helped  so  well ! 

For,  through  the  journey,  was  it  natural 

Such  comfort  should  arise  from  first  to  last  ? 

As  I  look  back,  all  is  one  milky  way  ; 

Still  bettered  more,  the  more  remembered,  so 

Do  new  stars  bud  while  I  but  search  for  old, 

And  fill  all  gaps  i'  the  glory,  and  grow  him  — 

Him  I  now  see  make  the  shine  everywhere. 

Even  at  the  last  when  the  bewildered  flesh. 

The  cloud  of  weariness  about  my  soul 

Clogging  too  heavily,  sucked  down  all  sense,  — 

StUl  its  last  voice  was,  "  He  wiU  watch  and  care  ; 

Let  the  strength  go,  I  am  content :  he  stays  !  " 

I  doubt  not  he  did  stay  and  care  for  all  — 

From  that  sick  minute  when  the  head  swam  round, 

And  the  eyes  looked  their  last  and  died  on  him. 

As  in  his  arms  he  caught  me,  and,  you  say, 

Carried  me  in,  that  tragical  red  eve. 

And  laid  me  where  I  next  returned  to  life 

In  the  other  red  of  morning,  two  red  plates 

That  crushed  together,  crushed  the  time  between, 

And  are  since  then  a  solid  fire  to  me,  — 

When  in,  my  dreadful  husband  and  the  world 


POMPILIA  273 

Broke,  —  and  I  saw  him,  master,  by  hell's  right. 

And  saw  my  angel  helplessly  held  back 

By  guards  that  helped  the  malice  — the  lamb  prone, 

The  serpent  towering  and  triumphant  —  then 

Came  all  the  strength  back  in  a  sudden  swell, 

I  did  for  once  see  right,  do  right,  give  tongue 

The  adequate  protest :  for  a  worm  must  turn 

If  it  would  have  its  wrong  observed  by  God. 

I  did  spring  up,  attempt  to  thrust  aside 

That  ice-block  'twixt  the  sun  and  me,  lay  low 

The  neutralizer  of  all  good  and  truth. 

If  I  sinned  so,  —  never  obey  voice  more 

O'  the  Just  and  Terrible,  who  bids  us  —  "  Bear !  " 

Not — "  Stand  by,  bear  to  see  my  angels  bear !  " 

I  am  clear  it  was  on  impulse  to  serve  God 

Not  save  myself,  —  no  —  nor  my  child  unborn ! 

Had  I  else  waited  patiently  till  now  ?  — 

Who  saw  my  old  kind  parents,  sUly-sooth 

And  too  much  trustful,  for  their  worst  of  faults, 

Cheated,  browbeaten,  stripped  and  starved,  cast  out 

Into  the  kennel :  I  remonstrated. 

Then  sank  to  silence,  fpr,  —  their  woes  at  end. 

Themselves  gone,  —  only  I  was  left  to  plague. 

If  only  I  was  threatened  and  belied. 

What  matter  ?     I  could  bear  it  and  did  bear  ; 

It  was  a  comfort,  still  one  lot  for  all : 

lliey  were  not  persecuted  for  my  sake 

And  I,  estranged,  the  single  happy  one. 

But  when  at  last,  aU  by  myself  I  stood 

Obeying  the  clear  voice  which  bade  me  rise, 

Not  for  my  own  sake  but  my  babe  unborn, 

And  take  the  angel's  hand  was  sent  to  help  — 

And  found  the  old  adversary  athwart  the  path  — 

Not  my  hand  simply  struck  from  the  angel's,  but 

The  very  angel's  self  made  foul  i'  the  face 

By  the  fiend  who  struck  there,  —  that  I  would  not  bear. 

That  only  I  resisted  !     So,  my  first 

And  last  resistance  was  invincible. 

Prayers  move  God ;  threats,  and  nothing  else,  move  men  ! 

I  must  have  prayed  a  man  as  he  were  God 

When  I  implored  the  Governor  to  right 

My  parents'  wrongs  :  the  answer  was  a  smUe. 

The  Archbishop,  —  did  I  clasp  his  feet  enough, 

Hide  my  face  hotly  on  them,  while  I  told 

More  than  I  dared  make  my  own  mother  know  ? 

The  profit  was  —  compassion  and  a  jest. 


274        THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

This  time,  the  foolish  prayers  were  done  with,  right 

Used  might,  and  solemnized  the  sport  at  once. 

All  was  against  the  comhat :  vantage,  mine  ? 

The  rmiaway  avowed,  the  accomplice-wife. 

In  company  with  the  plan-contriving  priest  ? 

Yet,  shame  thus  rank  and  patent,  I  struck,  bare, 

At  foe  from  head  to  foot  in  magic  mail, 

And  off  it  withered,  cobweb-armory 

Against  the  lightning !     'T  was  truth  singed  the  lies 

And  saved  me,  not  the  vain  sword  nor  weak  speech ! 

You  see,  I  will  not  have  the  service  fail  I 

I  say,  the  angel  saved  me  :  I  am  safe  ! 

Others  may  want  and  wish,  I  wish  nor  want 

One  point  o'  the  circle  plainer,  where  I  stand 

Traced  round  about  with  white  to  front  the  world. 

What  of  the  calumny  I  came  across. 

What  o'  the  way  to  the  end  ? — the  end  crowns  all. 

The  judges  judged  aright  i'  the  main,  gave  me 

The  uttermost  of  my  heart's  desire,  a  truce 

From  torture  and  Arezzo,  balm  for  hurt, 

With  the  quiet  nuns,  —  God  recompense  the  good  ! 

Who  said  and  sang  away  the  ugly  past. 

And,  when  my  final  fortune  was  revealed, 

What  safety,  while,  amid  my  parents'  arms. 

My  babe  was  given  me  !     Yes,  he  saved  my  babe  : 

It  would  not  have  peeped  forth,  the  bird-like  thing, 

Through  that  Arezzo  noise  and  trouble :  back 

Had  it  returned  nor  ever  let  me  see  ! 

But  the  sweet  peace  cured  all,  and  let  me  live 

And  give  my  bird  the  life  among  the  leaves 

God  meant  him  !     Weeks  and  months  of  quietude, 

I  could  lie  in  such  peace  and  learn  so  much  — 

Begin  the  task,  I  see  how  needful  now, 

Of  understanding  somewhat  of  my  past,  — 

Know  life  a  little,  I  should  leave  so  soon. 

Therefore,  because  this  man  restored  my  soul, 

AH  has  been  right ;  I  have  gained  my  gain,  enjoyed 

As  well  as  suffered,  —  nay,  got  foretaste  too 

Of  better  life  beginning  where  this  ends  — 

All  through  the  breathing-while  allowed  me  thus. 

Which  let  good  premonitions  reach  my  soul 

TJnthwarted,  and  benignant  influence  flow 

And  interpenetrate  and  change  my  heart. 

Uncrossed  by  what  was  wicked,  —  nay,  unkind. 

For,  as  the  weakness  of  my  time  drew  nigh, 


POMPILIA  275 

Nobody  did  me  one  disservice  more, 

Spoke_  coldly  or  looked  strangely,  broke  the  love 

I  lay  in  the  arms  of,  till  my  boy  was  born, 

Born  all  in  love,  with  nought  to  spoil  the  bliss 

A  whole  long  fortnight :  in  a  life  like  mine 

A  fortnight  filled  with  bliss  is  long  and  much. 

AH  women  are  not  mothers  of  a  boy, 

Though  they  live  twice  the  length  of  my  whole  life. 

And,  as  they  fancy,  happily  all  the  same. 

There  I  lay,  then,  all  my  great  fortnight  long, 

As  if  it  would  continue,  broaden  out 

Happily  more  and  more,  and  lead  to  heaven : 

Chi-istmas  before  me,  —  was  not  that  a  chance  ? 

I  never  realized  God's  birth  before  — 

How  He  grew  likest  God  in  being  born. 

This  time  I  felt  like  Mary,  had  my  babe 

Lying  a  little  on  my  breast  like  hers. 

So  all  went  on  till,  just  four  days  ago  — 

The  night  and  the  tap. 

O  it  shall  be  success 
To  the  whole  of  our  poor  family  !     My  friends 
.  .  .  Nay,  father  and  mother,  —  give  me  back  my  word ! 
They  have  been  rudely  stripped  of  life,  disgraced 
Like  children  who  must  needs  go  clothed  too  fine, 
Carry  the  garb  of  Carnival  in  Lent. 
If  they  too  much  affected  frippery, 
They  have  been  punished  and  submit  themselves, 
Say  no  word :  all  is  over,  they  see  God 
Who  will  not  be  extreme  to  mark  their  fault 
Or  He  had  granted  respite  :  they  are  safe. 

For  that  most  woful  man  my  husband  once. 
Who,  needing  respite,  still  draws  vital  breath, 
I  —  pardon  him  ?     So  far  as  lies  in  me, 
I  give  him  for  his  good  the  life  he  takes, 
Praying  the  world  will  therefore  acquiesce. 
Let  him  make  God  amends,  —  none,  none  to  me 
Who  thank  him  rather  that,  whereas  strange  fate 
Mockingly  styled  him  husband  and  me  wife. 
Himself  this  way  at  least  pronounced  divorce, 
Blotted  the  marriage-bond :  this  blood  of  mine 
Flies  forth  exultingly  at  any  door. 
Washes  the  parchment  white,  and  thanks  the  blow. 
We  shall  not-  meet  in  this  world  nor  the  next, 
But  where  will  God  be  absent .''     In  His  face 


276  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Is  Kght,  but  in  His  shadow  healing  too : 

Let  Guido  touch  the  shadow  and  be  healed  ! 

And  as  my  presence  was  importunate,  — 

My  earthly  good,  temptation  and  a  snare,  — 

Nothing  about  me  but  drew  somehow  down 

His  hate  upon  me,  —  somewhat  so  excused 

Therefore,  since  hate  was  thus  the  truth  of  him,  — 

May  my  evanishment  forevermore 

Help  further  to  relieve  the  heart  that  cast 

Such  object  of  its  natural  loathing  forth ! 

So  he  was  made  ;  he  nowise  made  himself : 

I  could  not  love  him,  but  his  mother  did. 

His  soul  has  never  lain  beside  my  soul ; 

But  for  the  unresisting  body,  —  thanks  ! 

He  burned  that  garment  spotted  by  the  flesh. 

Whatever  he  touched  is  rightly  ruined  :  plague 

It  caught,  and  disinfection  it  had  craved 

Still  but  for  Guido  ;  I  am  saved  through  him 

So  as  by  fire ;  to  him  —  thanks  and  farewell ! 

Even  for  my  babe,  my  boy,  there 's  safety  thence  ■ 
From  the  sudden  death  of  me,  I  mean  :  we  poor 
Weak  souls,  how  we  endeavor  to  be  strong  ! 
I  was  already  using  up  my  life,  — 
This  portion,  now,  should  do  him  such  a  good, 
This  other  go  to  keep  off  such  an  ill ! 
The  great  life  ;  see,  a  breath  and  it  is  gone  ! 
So  is  detached,  so  left  all  by  itself 
The  little  life,  the  fact  which  means  so  much. 
Shall  not  Grod  stoop  the  kindlier  to  His  work, 
His  marvel  of  creation,  foot  would  crush. 
Now  that  the  hand  He  trusted  to  receive 
And  hold  it,  lets  the  treasure  fall  perforce  ? 
The  better ;  He  shall  have  in  orphanage 
His  own  way  all  the  clearlier  :  if  my  babe 
Outlived  the  hour  —  and  he  has  lived  two  weeks  - 
It  is  through  God  who  knows  I  am  not  by. 
Who  is  it  makes  the  soft  gold  hair  turn  black, 
And  sets  the  tongue,  might  lie  so  long  at  rest, 
Trying  to  talk  ?     Let  us  leave  God  sdone ! 
Why  should  I  doubt  He  wiU  explain  in  time 
What  I  feel  now,  but  fail  to  find  the  words  ? 
My  babe  nor  was,  nor  is,  nor  yet  shall  be 
Count  Guido  Franceschini's  child  at  aU  — 
Only  his  mother's,  born  of  love  not  hate  ! 
So  shall  I  have  my  rights  in  after-time. 


POMPILIA  277 

It  seems  absurd,  impossible  to-day ; 

So  seems  so  much  else,  not  explained  but  known ! 

AL !     Friends,  I  thank  and  bless  you  every  one  ! 
No  more  now :  I  withdraw  from  earth  and  man 
To  my  own  soul,  compose  myself  for  God. 

Well,  and  there  is  more  !     Yes,  my  end  of  breath 

Shall  bear  away  my  soul  in  being  true ! 

He  is  still  here,  not  outside  with  the  world. 

Here,  here,  I  have  him  in  his  rightfxd  place ! 

'T  is  now,  when  I  am  most  upon  the  move, 

I  feel  for  what  I  verily  find  —  again 

The  face,  again  the  eyes,  again,  through  all, 

The  heart  and  its  immeasurable  love 

Of  my  one  friend,  my  only,  all  my  own, 

"Who  put  his  breast  between  the  spears  and  me. 

Ever  with  Caponsacchi !     Otherwise 

Here  alone  would  be  failure,  loss  to  me  — 

How  much  more  loss  to  him,  with  life  debarred 

From  giving  life,  love  locked  from  love's  display. 

The  day-star  stopped  its  task  that  makes  night  morn  ! 

0  lover  of  my  life,  O  soldier-saint. 

No  work  begun  shall  ever  pause  for  death  ! 

Love  will  be  helpful  to  me  more  and  more 

I'  the  coming  course,  the  new  path  I  must  tread  — 

My  weak  hand  in  thy  strong  hand,  strong  for  that ! 

Tell  him  that  if  I  seem  without  him  now, 

That 's  the  world's  insight !     Oh,  he  understands ! 

He  is  at  Civita  —  do  I  once  doubt 

The  world  again  is  holding  us  apart  ? 

He  had  been  here,  displayed  in  my  behalf 

The  broad  brow  that  reverberates  the  truth, 

And  flashed  the  word  God  gave  him,  back  to  man  ! 

1  know  where  the  free  soul  is  flown  !     My  fate 
WUl  have  been  hard  for  even  him  to  bear : 
Let  it  confirm  him  in  the  trust  of  God, 
Showing  how  holily  he  dared  the  deed  ! 

And,  for  the  rest,  — say,  from  the  deed,  no  touch 
Of  harm  came,  but  all  good,  all  happiness, 
Not  one  faint  fleck  of  failure  !     Why  explain  ? 
What  I  see,  oh,  he  sees  and  how  much  more ! 
Tell  him,  —  I  know  not  wherefore  the  true  word 
Should  fade  and  fall  unuttered  at  the  last  — 
It  was  the  name  of  him  I  sprang  to  meet 
When  came  the  knock,  .the  summons  and  the  end. 


278  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

"  My  great  heart,  my  strong  hand  are  back  again !  " 
I  would  have  sprung  to  these,  beckoning  across 
Murder  and  hell  gigantic  and  distinct 
O'  the  threshold,  posted  to  exclude  me  heaven : 
He  is  ordained  to  call  and  I  to  come ! 
Do  not  the  dead  wear  flowers  when  dressed  for  God  ? 
Say,  — I  am  all  in  flowers  from  head  to  foot ! 
Say,  —  not  one  flower  of  all  he  said  and  did, 
Might  seem  to  flit  unnoticed,  fade  unknown, 
But  dropped  a  seed,  has  grown  a  balsam-tree 
Whereof  the  blossoming  perfumes  the  place 
At  this  supreme  of  moments !     He  is  a  priest ; 
He  cannot  marry  therefore,  which  is  right : 
I  think  he  would  not  marry  if  he  could. 
Marriage  on  earth  seems  such  a  counterfeit. 
Mere  imitation  of  the  inimitable : 
In  heaven  we  have  the  real  and  true  and  sure. 
'T  is  there  they  neither  marry  nor  are  given 
In  marriage  but  are  as  the  angels  :  right. 
Oh  how  right  that  is,  how  Hke  Jesus  Christ 
To  say  that!     Marriage-making  for  the  earth. 
With  gold  so  much,  —  birth,  power,  repute  so  much, 
Or  beauty,  youth  so  much,  in  lack  of  these ! 
Be  as  the  angels  rather,  who,  apart. 
Know  themselves  into  one,  are  found  at  length 
Married,  but  marry  never,  no,  nor  give 
In  marriage ;  they  are  man  and  wife  at  once 
When  the  true  time  is :  here  we  have  to  wait 
Not  so  long  neither !     Could  we  by  a  wish 
Have  what  we  will  and  get  the  future  now. 
Would  we  wish  aught  done  undone  in  the  past  ? 
So,  let  him  wait  God's  instant  men  call  years ; 
Meantime  hold  hard  by  truth  and  his  great  soul, 
Do  out  the  duty !     Through  such  souls  alone 
God  stooping  shows  sufficient  of  His  light 
For  us  i'  the  dark  to  rise  by.     And  I  rise. 


vni. 

POMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHAJSTGELIS, 

PAUPERUM  PROCUEATOE. 

Ah,  my  Giacinto,  he  's  no  ruddy  rogue, 

Is  not  Cinone  ?     What,  to-day  we  're  eight  ? 

Seven  and  one  's  eight,  I  hope,  old  curly-pate  ! 

—  Branches  me  out  his  verb-tree  on  the  slate, 
Amo  -as  -avi  -atum  -are  -ans, 

Up  to  —aturus,  person,  tense,  and  mood, 

Quies  me  cum  suhjunctivo  (I  could  cry) 

And  chews  Corderius  with  his  morning  crust ! 

Look  eight  years  onward,  and  he 's  perched,  he 's  perched 

Dapper  and  deft  on  stool  beside  this  chair, 

Cinozzo,  Cinoncello,  who  but  he  ? 

—  Trying  his  milk-teeth  on  some  crusty  case 
Like  this,  papa  shall  triturate  full  soon 

To  smooth  Papinianian  pulp  ! 

It  trots 
Already  through  my  head,  though  noon  be  now. 
Does  supper-time  and  what  belongs  to  eve. 
Dispose,  O  Don,  o'  the  day,  first  work  then  play ! 

—  The  proverb  bids.     And  "  then  "  means,  won't  we  hold 
Our  little  yearly  lovesome  frolic  feast, 

Cinuolo's  birth-night,  Cinicello's  own, 

That  makes  gruff  January  grin  perforce  ! 

For  too  contagious  grows  the  mirth,  the  warmth 

Escaping  from  so  many  hearts  at  once  — 

When  the  good  wife,  buxom  and  bonny  yet, 

Jokes  the  hale  grandsire,  —  such  are  just  the  sort 

To  go  off  suddenly,  —  he  who  hides  the  key 

O'  the  box  beneath  his  piUow  every  night,  — 

Which  box  may  hold  a  parchment  (some  one  thinks) 

Will  show  a  scribbled  something  like  a  name 

"  Cinino,  Ciniccino,"  near  the  end, 

"  To  whom  I  give  and  I  bequeath  my  lands, 
Estates,  tenements,  hereditaments, 
When  I  decease  as  honest  grandsire  ought." 


280  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Wherefore  —  yet  this  one  time  again  perhaps  — 

Sha'n't  my  Orvieto  fuddle  his  old  nose ! 

Then,  uncles,  one  or  the  other,  well  i'  the  world. 

May  —  drop  in,  merely  ?  —  trudge  through  rain  and  wind, 

Rather !     The  smeU-feasts  rouse  them  at  the  hint 

There  's  cookery  in  a  certain  dwelling-place  ! 

Gossips,  too,  each  with  keepsake  in  his  poke, 

WiU  pick  the  way,  thrid  lane  by  lantern-light, 

And  so  find  door,  put  galligaskin  off 

At  entry  of  a  decent  domicile 

Cornered  in  snug  Condotti,  —  all  for  love, 

All  to  crush  cup  with  Cinucciatolo  ! 

Well, 
Let  others  climb  the  heights  o'  the  court,  the  camp ! 
How  vain  are  chambering  and  wantonness. 
Bevel  and  rout  and  pleasures  that  make  mad  ! 
Commend  me  to  home-joy,  the  family  board. 
Altar  and  hearth !     These,  with  a  brisk  career, 
A  source  of  honest  profit  and  good  fame. 
Just  so  much  work  as  keeps  the  brain  from  rust, 
Just  so  much  play  as  lets  the  heart  expand. 
Honoring  God  and  serving  man,  —  I  say. 
These  are  reality,  and  all  else,  —  fluff, 
Nutshell  and  nought,  —  thank  Flaccus  for  the  phrase  ! 
Suppose  I  had  been  Fisc,  yet  bachelor  ! 

Why,  work  with  a  will,  then !     Wherefore  lazy  now  ? 

Turn  up  the  hour-glass,  whence  no  sand-grain  slips 

But  should  have  done  its  duty  to  the  saint 

O'  the  day,  the  son  and  heir  that 's  eight  years  old ! 

Let  law  come  dimple  Cinoncino's  cheek, 

And  Latin  dumple  Cinarello's  chin. 

The  while  we  spread  him  fine  and  toss  him  flat 

This  pulp  that  makes  the  pancake,  trim  our  mass 

Of  matter  into  Argument  the  First, 

Prime  Pleading  in  defence  of  our  accused. 

Which,  once  a-waft  on  paper  wing,  shall  soar. 

Shall  signalize  before  applausive  Rome 

What  study,  and  mayhap  some  mother-wit. 

Can  do  toward  making  Master  fop  and  Fisc 

Old  bachelor  Bottinius  bite  his  thumb. 

Now,  how  good  God  is  !     How  falls  plumb  to  point 

This  murder,  gives  me  ^uido  to  defend 

Now,  of  all  days  i'  the  year,  just  when  the  boy 

Verges  on  Virgil,  reaches  the  right  age 

For  some  such  illustration  from  his  sire, 


DOMINUS  BYACINTHUS   DE  ARCHANGELIS    281 

Stimulus  to  himself  I     One  might  wait  years 
And  never  find  the  chance  which  now  finds  me  ! 
The  fact  is,  there 's  a  blessing  on  the  hearth, 
A  special  providence  for  fatherhood  ! 
Here 's  a  man,  and  what 's  more,  a  noble,  kills 

—  Not  sneakingly  but  almost  with  parade  — 
"Wife's  father  and  wife's  mother  and  wife's  self 
That 's  mother's  self  of  son  and  heir  (like  mine  !) 

—  And  here  stand  I,  the  favored  advocate, 
"Who  pluck  this  flower  o'  the  field,  no  Solomon 
"Was  ever  clothed  in  glorious  gold  to  match, 
And  set  the  same  in  Cinoncino's  cap ! 

I  defend  Guido  and  his  comrades  —  I ! 

Pray  God,  I  keep  me  humble :  not  to  me  — 

Non  nobis,  Domine,  sed  tibi  laus  ! 

How  the  fop  chuckled  when  they  made  him  Fisc  ! 

"We  '11  beat  you,  my  Bottinius,  aU  for  love, 

All  for  our  tribute  to  Cinotto's  day ! 

"Why,  'sbuddikins,  old  Innocent  himself 

May  rub  his  eyes  at  the  bustle,  —  ask  "  What 's  this 

Rolling  from  out  the  rostrum,  as  a  gust 

O'  the  Pro  Milone  had  been  prisoned  there, 

And  rattled  Rome  awake  ?  "     Awaken  Rome, 

How  can  the  Pope  doze  on  in  decency  ? 

He  needs  must  wake  up  also,  speak  his  word, 

Have  his  opinion  like  the  rest  of  Rome, 

About  this  huge,  this  hurly-burly  case  : 

He  wants  who  can  excogitate  the  truth. 

Give  the  result  in  speech,  plain  black  and  white, 

To  mumble  in  the  mouth  and  make  his  own 

' —  A  little  changed,  good  man,  a  little  changed  ! 

No  matter,  so  his  gratitude  be  moved, 

By  when  my  Giacintino  gets  of  age. 

Mindful  of  who  thus  helped  binn  at  a  pinch, 

Archangelus  Procurator  Pauperum,  — 

And  proved  Hortensius  Redivivus! 

"Whew! 
To  earn  the  EsUest,  merit  the  minced  herb 
That  mollifies  the  liver's  leathery  slice, 
"With  here  a  goose-foot,  there  a  cock's-comb  stuck, 
Cemented  in  an  element  of  cheese ! 
I  doubt  if  dainties  do  the  grandsire  good  : 
Last  June  he  had  a  sort  of  strangling  .  .  .  bah ! 
He 's  his  own  master,  and  his  will  is  made. 
So,  liver  fizz,  law  flit  and  Latin  fly 
As  we  rub  hands  o'er  dish  by  way  of  grace  ! 


282  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

May  I  lose  cause  if  I  vent  one  word  more 
Except  —  with  fresh-cut  quill  we  ink  the  white  - 
P^-o-pro  Guidone  et  Sociis.     There ! 

Count  Guido  married  —  or,  in  Latin  due, 

What  ?    Duxit  in  uxor  em  ?  —  commonplace  ! 

Tcedas  jugales  iniit,  subiit,  —  ha  ! 

He  underwent  the  matrimonial  torch  ? 

Connubio  stabili  sibi  junxit,  —  hum ! 

In  stable  bond  of  marriage  bound  his  own  ? 

That 's  clear  of  any  modern  taint :  and  yet  .  .  , 

Virgil  is  little  help  to  who  writes  prose. 

He  shall  attack  me  Terence  with  the  dawn, 

Shall  Cinuccino  !     Mum,  mind  business,  Sir  ! 

Thus  circumstantially  evolve?  we  facts, 

Ita  se  habet  ideo  series  facti  : 

He  wedded,  —  ah,  with  owls  for  augury  ! 

Nupserat,  hen  sinistris  avibus, 

One  of  the  blood  Aiezzo  boasts  her  best, 

Dominus  Guido,  nobili  genere  ortus, 

Tompilioe  .  .  . 

But  the  version  afterward ! 
Curb  we  this  ardor  !     Notes  alone,  to-day, 
The  speech  to-morrow,  and  the  Latin  last : 
Such  was  the  rule  in  Farinacci's  time. 
Indeed  I  hitched  it  into  verse  and  good. 
Unluckily,  law  quite  absorbs  a  man. 
Or  else  I  think  I  too  had  poetized. 

"  Law  is  the  pork  substratum  of  the  fry, 
Goose-foot  and  cock's-comb  are  Latinity,"  —' 
And  in  this  case,  if  circumstance  assist, 
We  '11  garnish  law  with  idiom,  never  fear ! 
Out-of-the-way  events  extend  our  scope : 
For  instance,  when  Bottini  brings  his  charge, 

"  That  letter  which  you  say  PompUia  wrote. 
To  criminate  her  parents  and  herself 
And  disengage  her  husband  from  the  coU,  — 
That,  Guido  Franceschini  wrote,  say  we : 
Because  Pompilia  could  nor  read  nor  write, 
Therefore  he  pencilled  her  such  letter  first, 
Then  made  her  trace  in  ink  the  same  again." 
—  Ha,  my  Bottini,  have  I  thee  on  hip  ? 
How  will  he  turn  this  and  break  Tully's  pate  ? 

"  Existimandum  "  (don't  I  hear  the  dog  ! ) 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    283 

"  Quod  Guido  designaverit  elementa 

I>ictcB  epistolce,  quoefuerint 

(Superinducto  ab  ea  calamo) 

Notata  atr amenta  "  —  there 's  a  style  !  — 
"  Quia  ipsa  scribere  nesciebat."     Boh ! 

Now,  my  turn !     Either,  Insidse  /  (I  outburst) 

Stupidly  put !     Inane  is  the  response, 

Inanis  est  responsio,  or  the  like  — 

To  wit,  that  each  of  all  those  characters, 

Quod  singula  elementa  epistolce, 

Had  first  of  all  been  traced  for  her  by  him, 

Fuerant  per  eum  prius  designata, 

And  then,  the  ink  applied  artop  of  that, 

JEt  deinde,  superinduoto  calamo, 

The  piece,  she  says,  became  her  handiwork. 

Per  earn,  efformata,  ut  ipsa  asserit. 

Inane  were  such  response  !   (a  second  time  :) 

Her  husband  outlined  her  the  whole,  forsooth  ? 

Vir  ejus  lineabat  epistolam  ? 

What,  she  confesses  that  she  wrote  the  thing, 

Fatetur  earn,  scripsisse,  (scorn  that  scathes  !) 

That  she  might  pay  obedience  to  her  lord  ? 

Ut  viro  obtemperaret,  apices 

(Here  repeat  charge  with  proper  varied  phrase) 

Eo  designante,  ipsaque  ealamum. 

Super  inducente  ?    By  such  argument, 

Ita  pariter,  she  seeks  to  show  the  same, 

(Ay,  by  Saint  Joseph  and  what  saints  you  please) 

Epistolam,  ostendit,  mediums  fidius. 

No  voluntary  deed  but  fruit  of  force  ! 

Non  voluntarie  sed  coacte  seriptam, ! 

That 's  the  way  to  write  Latin,  friend  my  Fisc  I 

Bottini  is  a  beast,  one  barbarous  : 

Look  out  for  him  when  he  attempts  to  say 
"  Armed  with  a  pistol,  Guido  followed  her !  " 

Will  not  I  be  beforehand  with  my  Fisc, 

Cut  away  phrase  by  phrase  from  underfoot ! 

Ghddo  Pompiliam  —  Guido  thus  his  wife 

Following  with  igneous  engine,  shall  I  have  ? 

Armis  mMnitus  igneis  persequens  — 

Arma  sulphurea  gestans,  sulphury  arms, 

Or,  might  one  style  a  pistol  —  popping-piece  ? 

Armatus  hreviori  sclopulo  ? 

We  'U  let  him  have  been  armed  so,  though  it  make 

Somewhat  against  us  :  I  had  thought  to  own  — 

Provided  with  a  simple  travelling-sword. 


284  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Ense  solummodo  viatorio 

Jnstructus  :  but  we  '11  grant  the  pistol  here : 

Better  we  lost  the  cause  than  lacked  the  gird 

At  the  Fisc's  Latin,  lost  the  Judge's  laugh ! 

It 's  Venturini  that  decides  for  style. 

Tommati  rather  goes  upon  the  law. 

So,  as  to  law,  — 

Ah,  but  with  law  ne'er  hope 
To  level  the  fellow,  —  don't  I  know  his  trick ! 
How  he  draws  up,  ducks  under,  twists  aside  ! 
He  's  a  lean-gutted  hectic  rascal,  fine 
As  pale-haired  red-eyed  ferret  which  pretends 
'T  is  ermine,  pure  soft  snow  from  tail  to  snout. 
He  eludes  law  by  piteous  looks  aloft, 
Lets  Latin  glance  off  as  he  makes  appeal 
To  saint  that 's  somewhere  in  the  ceiling-top  ^ 

Do  you  suppose  I  don't  conceive  the  beast  ? 
Plague  of  the  ermine-vermin  !     For  it  takes, 
It  takes,  and  here  's  the  fellow  Fisc,  you  see, 
And  Judge,  you  'U  not  be  long  in  seeing  next ! 
Confound  the  fop  —  he 's  now  at  work  like  me : 
Fnter  his  study,  as  I  seem  to  do. 
Hear  him  read  out  his  writing  to  himself  ! 
I  know  he  writes  as  if  he  spoke :  I  hear 
The  hoarse  shrill  throat,  see  shut  eyes,  neck  shot-forth, 
—  I  see  him  strain  on  tiptoe,  soar  and  pour 
Eloquence  out,  nor  stay  nor  stint  at  all  — 
Perorate  in  the  air,  then  quick  to  press 
With  the  product !     What  abuse  of  type  and  sheet ! 
He  'U  keep  clear  of  my  cast,  my  logic-throw, 
Let  argument  slide,  and  then  deliver  swift 
Some  bowl  from  quite  an  unguessed  point  of  stand  — 
Having  the  luck  o'  the  last  word,  the  reply  ! 
A  plaguy  cast,  a  mortifying  stroke : 
You  face  a  fellow  —  cries,  "  So,  there  you  stand? 
But  I  discourteous  jump  clean  o'er  your  head ! 
You  take  ship-carpentry  for  pilotage, 
Stop  rat-holes,  while  a  sea  sweeps  through  the  breach,  — 
Hammer  and  fortify  at  puny  points  ? 
Do,  clamp  and  tenon,  make  all  tight  and  safe  ! 
'T  is  here  and  here  and  here  you  ship  a  sea, 
No  good  of  your  stopped  leaks  and  littleness  !  " 

Yet  what  do  I  name  "  little  and  a  leak  "  ? 

The  main  defence  o'  the  murder 's  used  to  death, 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    285 

By  this  time,  dry  bare  bones,  no  scrap  we  pick : 
Safer  I  worked  the  new,  the  unforeseen, 
The  nice  by-stroke,  the  fine  and  improvised 
Point  that  can  titillate  the  brain  o'  the  Bench 
Torpid  with  over-teaching,  long  ago ! 
As  if  Tommati  (that  has  heard,  reheard 
And  heard  again,  first  this  side  and  then  that  — 
Guido  and  Pietro,  Pietro  and  Guido,-  din 
And  deafen,  fuU  three  years,  at  each  long  ear) 
Don't  want  amusement  for  instruction  now, 
Won't  rather  feel  a  flea  run  o'er  his  ribs, 
Than  a  daw  settle  heavily  on  his  head  ! 
Oh,  I  was  young  and  had  the  trick  of  fence, 
Knew  subde  pass  and  push  with  careless  right  — 
My  left  arm  ever  quiet  behind  back, 
With  dagger  ready  :  not  both  hands  to  blade  ! 
Puff  and  blow,  put  the  strength  out,  Blunderbore  ! 
There  's  my  subordinate,  young  Spreti,  now. 
Pedant  and  prig,  —  he  '11  pant  away  at  proof, 
That 's  his  way  ! 

Now  for  mine  —  to  rub  some  life 
Into  one's  choppy  fingers  this  cold  day ! 
I  trust  Cinuzzo  ties  on  tippet,  guards 
The  precious  throat  on  which  so  much  depends ! 
Guido  must  be  aU  goose-flesh  in  his  hole. 
Despite  the  prison-straw :  bad  Carnival 
For  captives  !  no  sliced  fry  for  him,  poor  Count ! 

Carnival-time,  —  another  providence  ! 
The  town  a-swarm  with  strangers  to  amuse. 
To  edify,  to  give  one's  name  and  fame 
In  charge  of,  till  they  find,  some  future  day, 
Cintino  come  and  claim  it,  his  name  too. 
Pledge  of  the  pleasantness  they  owe  papa  — 
Who  else  was  it  cured  Rome  of  her  great  qualms, 
When  she  must  needs  have  her  own  judgment  ?  —  ay, 
When  all  her  topping  wits  had  set  to  work. 
Pronounced  already  on  the  case :  mere  boys. 
Twice  Cineruggiolo's  age  with  half  his  sense, 
As  good  as  teU  me,  when  I  cross  the  court, 
«  Master  Arcangeli !  "  (plucking  at  my  gown) 
"  We  can  predict,  we  comprehend  your  play. 
We  '11  help  you  save  your  client."     Tra^la^la ! 
I  've  travelled  ground,  from  childhood  to  this  hour, 
To  have  the  town  anticipate  my  track  ? 


286  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  old  fox  takes  the  plain  and  velvet  path, 

The  young  hound's  predilection,  —  prints  the  dew, 

Don't  he,  to  suit  their  pulpy  pads  of  paw  ? 

No !     Burying  nose  deep  down  i'  the  briery  bush, 

Thus  I  defend  Count  Guide. 

Where  are  we  weak  ? 
First,  which  is  foremost  in  adv^tage  too, 
Our  murder,  -^  we  call,  killing,  —  is  a  fact 
Confessed,  defended,  made  a  boast  of  :  good ! 
To  think  the  Fisc  claimed  use  of  torture  here, 
And  got  thereby  avowal  plump  and  plain 
That  gives  me  just  the  chance  I  wanted,  —  scope 
Not  for  brute-force  but  ingenuity. 
Explaining  matters,  not  denying  them ! 
One  may  dispute,  —  as  I  am  bound  to  do, 
And  shall,  —  validity  of  process  here  : 
Inasmuch  as  a  noble  is  exempt 
From  torture  which  plebeians  undergo 
In  such  a  case  :  for  law  is  lenient,  lax, 
Remits  the  torture  to  a  nobleman 
Unless  suspicion  be  of  twice  the  strength 
Attaches  to  a  man  born  vulgarly : 
We  don't  card  silk  with  comb  that  dresses  wooL 
Moreover,  't  was  severity  undue 
In  this  case,  even  had  the  lord  been  lout. 
What  utters,  on  this  head,  our  oracle, 
Our  Farinacci,  my  Gamaliel  erst. 
In  those  immortal  "  Questions  "  ?     This  I  quote : 
"  Of  all  the  tools  at  Law's  disposal,  sure 
That  named  Vigiliarum  is  the  best  — 
That  is,  the  worst  —  to  whoso  needs  must  bear : 
Lasting,  as  it  may  do,  from  some  seven  hours 
To  ten  ;  (beyond  ten,  we  've  no  precedent ; 
Certain  have  touched  their  ten  but,  bah,  they  died !) 
It  does  so  efficaciously  convince. 
That  —  speaking  by  much  observation  here  — 
Out  of  each  hundred  cases,  by  my  count. 
Never  I  knew  of  patients  beyond  four 
Withstand  its  taste,  or  less  than  ninety-six 
End  by  succumbing  :  only  martyrs  four. 
Of  obstinate  silence,  guilty  or  no,  —  against 
Ninety-six  full  confessors,  innocent 
Or  otherwise,  —  so  shrewd  a  tool  have  we  !  " 
No  marvel  either :  in  unwary  hands. 
Death  on  the  spot  is  no  rare  consequence : 
As  indeed  all  but  happened  in  this  case 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    287 

To  one  of  ourselves,  our  young  tough  peasant-friend 

The  accomplice  called  Baldeschi :  they  were  rough, 

Dosed  him  with  torture  as  you  drench  a  horse, 

Not  modify  your  treatment  to  a  man  : 

So,  two  successive  days  he  fainted  dead, 

And  only  on  the  third  essay,  gave  up, 

Confessed  like  flesh  and  blood.     We  could  reclaim,  — 

Blockhead  Bottini  giving  cause  enough ! 

But  no,  —  we  '11  take  it  as  spontaneously 

Confessed :  we  '11  have  the  murder  beyond  doubt. 

Ah,  fortunate  (the  poet's  word  reversed) 

Inasmuch  as  we  know  our  happiness ! 

Had  the  antagonist  left  dubiety, 

Here  were  we  proving  murder  a  mere  myth, 

And  Guido  innocent,  ignorant,  absent,  —  ay. 

Absent !     He  was  —  why,  where  should  Christian  be  ? — 

Engaged  in  visiting  his  proper  church, 

The  duty  of  us  aU  at  Christmas-time, 

When  Caponsacchi,  the  seducer,  stung 

To  madness  by  his  relegation,  cast 

About  him  and  contrived  a  remedy 

In  murder :  since  opprobrium  broke  afresh. 

By  birth  o'  the  babe,  on  him  the  imputed  sire, 

He  it  was  quietly  sought  to  smother  up 

His  shame  and  theirs  together,  —  killed  the  three. 

And  fled  —  (go  seek  him  where  you  please  to  search)  — 

Just  at  the  time  when  Guido,  touched  by  grace. 

Devotions  ended,  hastened  to  the  spot. 

Meaning  to  pardon  his  convicted  wife, 

"  Neither  do  I  condemn  thee,  go  in  peace !  "  — 
And  thus  arrived  i'  the  nick  of  time  to  catch 
The  charge  o'  the  killing,  though  great-heartedly 
He  came  but  to  forgive  and  bring  to  life. 
Doubt  ye  the  force  of  Christmas  on  the  soul  ? 

"  Is  thine  eye  evil  because  mine  is  good  ?  " 

So,  doubtless,  had  I  needed  argue  here 
But  for  the  full  confession  round  and  sound ! 
Thus  might  you  wrong  some  kingly  alchemist,  — 
Whose  concern  should  not  be  with  showing  brass 
Transmuted  into  gold,  but  triumphing. 
Rather,  about  his  gold  changed  out  of  brass. 
Not  vulgarly  to  the  mere  sight  and  touch, 
But  in  the  idea,  the  spiritual  display. 
The  apparition  buoyed  by  winged  words_ 
Hovering  above  its  birthplace  in  the  brain,  — 


288  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Thus  would  you  wrong  this  excellent  personage 
Forced,  by  the  gross  need,  to  gird  apron  round, 
Plant  forge,  light  fire,  ply  bellows,  —  in  a  word, 
Demonstrate  :  when  a  faulty  pipkin's  crack 
May  disconcert  you  his  presumptive  truth  ! 
Here  were  I  hanging  to  the  testimony 
Of  one  of  these  poor  rustics  —  four,  ye  gods  ! 
Whom  the  first  taste  of  friend  the  Fiscal's  cord 
May  drive  into  undoing  my  whole  speech. 
Undoing,  on  his  birthday,  —  what  is  worse,  — 
My  son  and  heir  ! 

I  wonder,  aU  the  same. 
Not  so  much  at  those  peasants'  lack  of  heart ; 
But  —  Guide  Franceschini,  nobleman. 
Bear  pain  no  better  !     Everybody  knows 
It  used  once,  when  my  father  was  a  boy, 
To  form  a  proper,  nay,  important  point 
r  the  education  of  our  weU-born  youth, 
That  they  took  torture  handsomely  at  need. 
Without  confessing  in  this  clownish  guise. 
Each  noble  had  his  rack  for  private  use, 
And  would,  for  the  diversion  of  a  guest, 
Bid  it  be  set  up  in  the  yard  of  arms. 
And  take  thereon  his  hour  of  exercise,  — 
Command  the  varletry  stretch,  strain  their  best, 
While  friends  looked  on,  admired  my  lord  could  smile 
'Mid  tugging  which  had  caused  an  ox  to  roar. 
Men  are  no  longer  men  ! 

—  And  advocates 
No  longer  Farinacci,  let  us  add. 
If  I  one  more  time  fly  from  point  proposed  ! 
So,  Vindicatio,  —  here  begins  the  speech  !  — 
Honoris  causa  ;  thus  we  make  our  stand : 
Honor  in  us  had  injury,  we  prove. 
Or  if  we  fail  to  prove  such  injury 
More  than  misprision  of  the  fact,  —  what  then  ? 
It  is  enough,  authorities  declare. 
If  the  result,  the  deed  in  question  now. 
Be  caused  by  confidence  that  injury 
Is  veritable  and  no  figment :  since. 
What,  though  proved  fancy  afterward,  seemed  fact 
At  the  time,  they  argue  shall  excuse  result. 
That  which  we  do,  persuaded  of  good  cause 
For  what  we  do,  hold  justifiable  !  — 
80  casuists  bid  :  man,  bound  to  do  his  best. 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  AliCHANGELIS    289 

They  would  not  have  him  leave  that  best  undone 
And  mean  to  do  his  worst,  —  though  fuller  Ught 
Show  best  was  worst  and  worst  would  have  been  best. 
Act  by  the  present  light !  —  they  ask  of  man. 
Ultra  quod  hio  non  agitur,  besides 
It  is  not  anyway  our  business  here, 
De  probatione  adulterii, 

To  prove  what  we  thought  crime  was  crime  indeed, 
Ad  irrogandam  poenam,  and  require 
Its  punishment :  such  nowise  do  we  seek : 
Sed  ad  effeotum,  but  'tis  our  concern, 
ExGusandi,  here  to  simply  find  excuse, 
Occisorem,  for  who  did  the  kiUing-work, 
Et  ad  Ulius  defensionem,  (mark 
The  difBerence)  and  defend  the  man,  just  that  I 
Qua  casu  levior  probatio 
Exuberaret,  to  which  end  far  lighter  proof 
Suffices  than  the  prior  case  would  claim  : 
It  should  be  always  harder  to  convict. 
In  short,  than  to  establish  innocence. 
Therefore  we  shall  demonstrate  first  of  all 
That  Honor  is  a  gift  of  God  to  man 
Precious  beyond  compare :  which  natural  sense 
Of  human  rectitude  and  purity,  — 

"Which  white,  man's  soul  is  born  with,  —  brooks  no  touch : 
Therefore,  the  sensitivest  spot  of  all, 
Wounded  by  any  wafture  breathed  from  black. 
Is  —  honor  within  honor,  like  the  eye 
Centred  i'  the  ball  —  the  honor  of  our  wife. 
Touch  us  o'  the  pupil  of  our  honor,  then. 
Not  actually,  —  since  so  you  slay  outright,  — 
But  by  a  gesture  simulating  touch, 
Presumable  mere  menace  of  such  taint,  — 
This  were  our  warrant  for  eruptive  ire 
"  To  whose  dominion  I  impose  no  end." 

(Virgil,  now,  should  not  be  too  difficult 

To  Cinoncino,  —  say,  the  early  books. 

Pen,  truce  to  further  gambols  !     Poscimur  /) 

Nor  can  revenge  of  injury  done  here 

To  the  honor  proved  the  life  and  soul  of  us. 

Be  too  excessive,  too  extravagant: 

Such  wrong  seeks  and  must  have  complete  revenge. 

Show  we  this,  first,  on  the  mere  natural  ground : 

Begin  at  the  beginning,  and  proceed 


290  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

lucontrovertibly.     Theodoric, 

In  an  apt  sentence  Cassiodorus  cites, 

Propounds  for  basis  of  all  household  law  — 

I  hardly  recollect  it,  but  it  ends, 
"  Bird  mates  with  bird,  beast  genders  with  his  like, 

And  brooks  no  interference."     Bird  and  beast  ? 

The  very  insects  ...  if  they  wive  or  no, 

How  dare  I  say  when  Aristotle  doubts  ? 

But  the  presumption  is  fliey  likewise  wive, 

At  least  the  nobler  sorts ;  for  take  the  bee 

As  instance,  —  copying  King  Solomon,  — 
'   Why  that  displeasure  of  the  bee  to  aught 

Which  savors  of  incontinency,  makes 

The  unchaste  a  very  horror  to  the  hive  ? 

Whence  comes  it  bees  obtain  their  epithet 

Of  castcB  apes,  notably  "  the  chaste  "  ? 

Because,  ingeniously  saith  Scaliger, 

(The  young  sage,  —  see  his  book  of  Table-talk) 
"  Such  is  their  hatred  of  immodest  act, 

They  fall  upon  the  offender,  sting  to  death." 

I  mind  a  passage  much  confirmative 

I'  the  IdyUist  (though  I  read  him  Latinized)  — 
"  Why,"  asks  a  shepherd,  "  is  this  bank  unfit 

For  celebration  of  our  vernal  loves  ?  " 
"  Oh  swain,"  returns  the  instructed  shepherdess, 
"  Bees  swarm  here,  and  would  quick  resent  our  warmth !  " 

Only  cold-blooded  fish  lack  instinct  here. 

Nor  gain  nor  guard  connubiality  : 

But  beasts,  quadrupedal,  mamniiferous. 

Do  credit  to  their  beasthood  :  witness  him 

That  .^ian  cites,  the  noble  elephant, 

(Or  if  not  ^lian,  somebody  as  sage) 

Who  seeing,  much  offence  beneath  his  nose, 

His  master's  friend  exceed  in  courtesy 

The  due  allowance  to  his  master's  wife, 

Taught  them  good  manners  and  killed  botJi  at  once, 

MaHng  his  master  and  the  world  admire. 

Indubitably,  then,  that  master's  self, 

Favored  by  circumstance,  had  done  the  same 

Or  else  stood  clear  rebuked  by  his  own  beast. 

Adeo,  ut  qui  honorem  spemit,  thus, 

Who  values  his  own  honor  not  a  straw,  — 

St  non  recuperare  curat,  nor 

Labors  by  might  and  main  to  salve  its  wound, 

Se  ulciscendo,  by  revenging  him. 

Nil  differat  a  helluis,  is  a  brute, 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  BE  ARCHANGELIS    291 

Quinimo  trrationabUior 

Ipsismet  belluis,  nay,  contrariwise, 

Much  more  irrational  than  brutes  themselves, 

Should  be  considered,  reputetur  1     How  ? 

If  a  poor  animal  feel  honor  smart, 

Taught  by  blind  instinct  nature  plants  in  him. 

Shall  man,  —  confessed  creation's  master-stroke, 

Nay,  intellectual  glory,  nay,  a  god. 

Nay,  of  the  nature  of  my  Judges  here,  — 

Shall  man  prove  the  insensible,  the  block. 

The  blot  o'  the  earth  he  crawls  on  to  disgrace  ? 

(Come,  that 's  both  solid  and  poetic  !)     Man 

Derogate,  live  for  the  low  tastes  alone. 

Mean  creeping  cares  about  the  animal  life  ? 

Absit  such  homage  to  vile  flesh  and  blood ! 

(May  Gigia  have  remembered,  nothing  stings 
Fried  liver  out  of  its  monotony 
Of  richness,  like  a  root  of  fennel,  chopped 
Fine  with  the  parsley :  parsley-sprigs,  I  said  — 
Was  there  need  I  should  say  "  and  fennel  too  "  ? 
But  no,  she  cannot  have  been  so  obtuse ! 
To  our  argument !     The  fennel  wiU  be  chopped.) 

From  beast  to  man  next  mount  we  —  ay,  but,  mind. 
Still  mere  man,  not  yet  Christian,  —  that,  in  time  ! 
Not  too  fast,  mark  you  !     'T  is  on  Heathen  grounds 
We  next  defend  our  act :  then,  fairly  urge  — 
If  this  were  done  of  old,  in  a  green  tree. 
Allowed  in  the  Spring  rawness  of  our  kind, 
What  may  be  licensed  in  the  Autumn  dry 
And  ripe,  the  latter  harvest-tide  of  man  ? 
If,  with  his  poor  and  primitive  half-lights. 
The  Pagan,  whom  our  devils  served  for  gods, 
Could  stigmatize  the  breach  of  marriage-vow 
As  that  which  blood,  blood  only  might  efface,  — 
Absolve  the  husband,  outraged,  whose  revenge 
Anticipated  law,  plied  sword  himself,  — 
How  with  the  Christian  in  full  blaze  of  noon  ? 
Shall  not  he  rather  double  penalty, 
Multiply  vengeance,  than,  degenerate. 
Let  privilege  be  minished,  droop,  decay  ? 
Therefore  set  forth  at  large  the  ancient  law  ! 
Superabundant  the  examples  be 
To  pick  and  choose  from.     The  Athenian  Code, 
Solon's,  the  name  is  serviceable,  —  then, 


292  TUE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

The  Laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables,  that  fifteenth,  — 
"  Romulus  "  likewise  roUs  out  roond  and  large. 
The  Julian  ;  the  Cornelian ;  Gracchus'  Law  : 
So  old  a  chime,  the  bells  ring  of  themselves  ! 
Spreti  can  set  that  going  if  he  please, 
I  point  you,  for  my  part,  the  belfry  plain, 
Intent  to  rise  from  dusk,  diluculum, 
Into  the  Christian  day  shall  broaden  next. 

First,  the  fit  compliment  to  His  Holiness 

Happily  reigning :  then  sustain  the  point  — 

All  that  was  long  ago  declared  as  law 

By  the  natural  revelation,  stands  confirmed 

By  Apostle  and  EvangeUst  and  Saint,  — 

To  wit  —  that  Honor  is  man's  supreme  good. 

"Why  should  I  balk  Saint  Jerome  of  his  phrase  ? 

TJbi  honor  non  est,  where  no  honor  is, 

Jbi  conientptus  est ;  and  where  contempt, 

Ibi  injuria  frequens  ;  and  where  that, 

The  frequent  injury,  ibi  et  indignatio  / 

And  where  the  indignation,  ihi  quies 

Nidla  :  and  where  there  is  no  quietude. 

Why,  ibi,  there,  the  mind  is  often  cast 

Down  from  the  heights  where  it  proposed  to  dwell, 

Mens  a  proposito  soepe  dejicitur. 

And  naturally  the  mind  is  so  cast  down, 

Since  harder  't  is,  quum  difficUins  sit, 

Iram  cohibere,  to  coerce  one's  wrath, 

Quam  miractda  facers,  than  work  miracles,  — 

So  Gregory  smiles  in  his  First  Dialogue. 

VV  hence  we  infer,  the  ingenuous  soul,  the  man 

Who  makes  esteem  of  honor  and  repute, 

Whenever  honor  and  repute  are  touched. 

Arrives  at  term  of  fury  and  despair. 

Loses  all  guidance  from  the  reason-check : 

As  in  delirium  or  a  frenzy-fit. 

Nor  fury  nor  despair  he  satiates,  — no, 

Not  even  if  he  attain  the  impossible, 

O'ertum  the  hinges  of  the  universe 

To  annihilate  —  not  whoso  caused  the  smart 

Solely,  the  author  simply  of  his  pain, 

But  ihe  place,  the  memory,  vituperii, 

O'  the  shame  and  scorn :  quia,  —  says  Solomon, 

(The  Holy  Spirit  speaking  by  his  mouth 

In  Proverbs,  the  sixth  chapter  near  the  end) 

—  Because,  the  zeal  and  fury  of  a  man. 


DOMTNUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    293 

Zelus  et  furor  viri,  will  not  spare, 

Non  parcet,  in  the  day  of  his  revenge, 

In  die  vindictoe,  nor  will  acquiesce, 

Nee  acquiescet,  through  a  person's  prayers, 

Cujusdam  precibiis,  —  neo  suscipiet, 

Nor  yet  take,  pro  redemptione,  for 

Redemption,  dona  plurium,  gifts  of  friends, 

Mere  money-payment  to  compound  for  ache. 

Who  recognizes  not  my  client's  case  ? 

Whereto,  as  strangely  consentaneous  here. 

Adduce  Saint  Bernard  in  the  Epistle  writ 

To  Robertulus,  his  nephew :  "  Too  much  grief, 

Dolor  quippe  nimius  non  deliberai, 

Does  not  excogitate  propriety, 

Non  verecundatur,  nor  knows  shame  at  all, 

Non  consulit  rationem,  nor  consults 

Reason,  non  dignitatis  metuit 

Damnum,  nor  dreads  the  loss  of  dignity  ; 

Modum  et  ordinem,  order  and  the  mode, 

Ignorat,  it  ignores  :  "  why,  trait  for  trait, 

Was  ever  portrait  limned  so  like  the  Ufe  ? 

(By  Cavalier  Maratta,  shall  I  say  ? 

I  hear  he  's  first  in  reputation  now.) 

Yes,  that  of  Samson  in  the  Sacred  Test : 

That 's  not  so  much  the  portrait  as  the  man ! 

Samson  in  Gaza  w^s  the  antetype 

Of  Guido  at  Rome  :  observe  the  Nazarite ! 

Blinded  he  was,  —  an  easy  thing  to  bear  : 

Intrepidly  he  took  imprisonment, 

Gyves,  stripes,  and  daily  labor  at  the  mill : 

But  when  he  found  himself,  i'  the  public  place, 

Destined  to  make  the  common  people  sport. 

Disdain  burned  up  with  such  an  impetus 

I'  the  breast  of  him,  that,  all  the  man  one  fire, 

Moriatur,  roared  he,  let  my  soul's  self  die, 

Anim.a  mea,  with  the  Philistines ! 

So,  pulled  down  pillar,  roof,  and  death  and  all, 

Multosqt/e  plures  interfeeit,  ay. 

And  many  more  he  killed  thus,  moriens. 

Dying,  quam  vivus,  than  in  his  whole  life, 

Occiderat,  he  ever  kiUed  before. 

Are  these  things  writ  for  no  example,  Sirs  ? 

One  instance  more,  and  let  me  see  who  doubts ! 

Our  Lord  Himself,  made  all  of  mansuetude. 

Sealing  the  sum  of  sufferance  up,  received 

Opprobrium,  contumely  and  buffeting 


294  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Without  complaint :  but  when  He  found  HimseK 

Touched  in  His  honor  never  so  little  for  once, 

Then  out  broke  indignation  pent  before  — 
"  Honor  em,  meum  nemini  dabo  /  "     "  No, 

My  honor  I  to  nobody  will  give  !  " 

And  certainly  the  example  so  hath  wrought, 

That  whosoever,  at  the  proper  worth. 

Apprises  worldly  honor  and  repute, 

Esteems  it  nobler  to  die  honored  man 

Beneath  Mannaia,  than  live  centuries 

Disgraced  in  the  eye  o'  the  world.     We  find  Saint  Paul 

No  recreant  to  this  faith  delivered  once : 
"  Far  worthier  were  it  that  I  died,"  cries  he, 

Expedit  mihi  magis  mori,  "  than 

That  any  one  should  make  my  glory  void," 

Quam  ut  gloriam  Tneam,  quis  evacuet  ! 

See,  ad  Corinthienses  :  whereupon 

Saint  Ambrose  makes  a  comment  with  much  fruit, 

Doubtless  my  Judges  long  since  laid  to  heart, 

So  I  desist  from  bringing  forward  here. 

(I  can't  quite  recollect  it.) 

Have  I  proved 
Satis  superque,  both  enough  and  to  spare, 
,That  Revelation  old  and  new  admits 
The  natural  man  may  effervesce  in  ire, 
O'erflood  earth,  o'erfroth  heaven  with  foamy  rage. 
At  the  first  puncture  to  his  self-respect  ? 
Then,  Sirs,  this  Christian  dogma,  this  law-bud 
FuU-blown  now,  soon  to  bask  the  absolute  flower 
Of  Papal  doctrine  in  our  blaze  of  day,  — 
Bethink  you,  shall  we  miss  one  promise-streak, 
One  doubtful  birth  of  dawn  crepuscular, 
One  dew-drop  comfort  to  humanity. 
Now  that  the  chalice  teems  with  noonday  wine  ? 
Yea,  argue  Molinists  who  bar  revenge  — 
Referring  just  to  what  makes  out  our  case  ! 
Under  old  dispensation,  argue  they. 
The  doom  of  the  adulterous  wife  was  death. 
Stoning  by  Moses'  law.     "  Nay,  stone  her  not, 
Put  her  away  !  "  next  legislates  our  Lord  ; 
And  last  of  all,  "  Nor  yet  divorce  a  wife  !  " 
Ordains  the  Church,  "  she  typifies  ourself. 
The  Bride  no  fault  shall  cause  to  fall  from  Christ." 
Then,  as  no  jot  nor  tittle  of  the  Law 
Has  passed  away  —  which  who  presumes  to  doubt  ? 


DOMINUS  HYACINTH  US  DE  ARCHANGELIS    2^5 

As  not  one  word  of  Christ  is  rendered  vain  — 
Which,  could  it  be  though  heaven  and  earth  should  pass  ? 
—  Where  do  1  find  my  proper  punishment 
For  my  adulterous  wife,  I  humbly  ask 
Of  my  infallible  Pope,  —  who  now  remits 
Even  the  divorce  allowed  by  Christ  in  lieu 
Of  lapidation  Moses  Ucensed  me  ? 
The  Gospel  checks  the  Law  which  throws  the  stone, 
The  Church  tears  the  divorce-bill  Gospel  grants  : 
Shall  wives  sin  and  enjoy  impunity  ? 
What  profits  me  the  fulness  of  the  days. 
The  final  dispensation,  I  demand, 
Unless  Law,  Gospel,  and  the  Church  subjoin, 
"  But  who  hath  barred  thee  primitive  revenge, 
Which,  like  fire  damped  and  dammed  up,  burns  more  fierce  ? 
Use  thou  thy  natural  privilege  of  man. 
Else  wert  thou  found  like  those  old  ingrate  Jews, 
Despite  the  manna-banquet  on  the  board, 
A-longing  after  melons,  cucumbers, 
And  such  like  trash  of  Egypt  left  behind  !  " 

(There  was  one  melon  had  improved  our  soup : 

But  did  not  Cinoncino  need  the  rind 

To  make  a  boat  with  ?     So  I  seem  to  think.) 

Law,  Gospel,  and  the  Church  —  from  these  we  leap 
To  the  very  last  revealment,  easy  rule 
Befitting  the  well-born  and  thorough-bred 
O'  the  happy  day  we  live  in,  not  the  dark 
O'  the  early  rude  and  acorn-eating  race. 
"  Behold,"  quoth  James,  "  we  bridle  in  a  horse 
And  turn  his  body  as  we  would  thereby !  " 
Yea,  but  we  change  the  bit  to  suit  the  growth, 
And  rasp  our  colt's  jaw  with  a  rugged  spike, 
We  hasten  to  remit  our  managed  steed 
Who  wheels  round  at  persuasion  of  a  touch. 
Civilization  bows  to  decency. 

The  acknowledged  use  and  wont :  't  is  manners  —  mild 
But  yet  imperative  law  —  which  make  the  man. 
Thus  do  we  pay  the  proper  compliment 
To  rank,  and  that  society  of  Rome 
Hath  so  obliged  us  by  its  interest, 
Taken  our  client's  part  instinctively, 
As  unaware  defending  its  own  cause. 
What  dictum  doth  Society  lay  down 
r  the  case  of  one  who  hath  a  faithless  wife  ? 


296  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Wherewithal  should  the  husband  cleanse  his  way  ? 

Be  patient  and  forgive  ?     Oh,  language  fails,  — 

Shrinks  from  depicturing  his  turpitude  ! 

For  if  wronged  husband  raise  not  hue  and  cry, 

Quod  si  maritus  de  adulterio  non 

Conquereretur,  he 's  presumed  a  —  f oh  ! 

Presumitur  leno  :  so,  complain  he  must. 

But  how  complain  ?     At  your  tribunal,  lords  ? 

Far  weightier  challenge  suits  your  sense,  I  wot ! 

You  sit  not  to  have  gentlemen  propose 

Questions  gentility  can  itself  discuss. 

Did  not  you  prove  that  to  our  brother  Paul  ? 

The  Abate,  quum  judicialiter 

Prosequeretur,  when  he  tried  the  law, 

Guidonis  causam,  in  Count  Guide's  case, 

Acoidit  ipsi,  this  befell  himself, 

Quod  risum  moverit  et  cachinnos,  that 

He  moved  to  mirth  and  cachinnation,  all 

Or  nearly  all,  fere  in  omnibus 

Etiam  sensatis  et  cordatis,  men 

Strong-sensed,  sound-hearted,  nay,  the  very  Court, 

Ipsismet  in  judicibus,  I  might  add, 

Non  tamen  dicam.     In  a  cause  like  this, 

So  multiplied  were  reasons  pro  and  eon, 

Delicate,  intertwisted  and  obscure, 

That  Law  refused  loan  of  a  finger-tip 

To  unravel,  readjust  the  hopeless  twine, 

Since,   half-a-dozen  steps  outside  Law's  seat; 

There  stood  a  foolish  trifler  with  a  tool 

A-dangle  to  no  purpose  by  his  side, 

Had  clearly  cut  the  embroilment  in  a  trice. 

Asserunt  enim  unanimiter 

Doctores,  for  the  Doctors  all  assert, 

That  husbands,  quod  mariti,  must  be  held 

Viles,  eomuti  reputantur,  vile. 

Fronts  branching  forth  a  florid  infamy, 

Si  propriis  manibus,  if  with  their  own  hands, 

Non  sumunt,  they  fail  straight  to  take  revenge, 

Vindietam,  but  expect  the  deed  be  done 

By  the  Court  —  expectant  illam  fieri 

Per  judices,  qui  summopere  rident,  which 

Gives  an  enormous  guffaw  for  reply, 

Et  caohinnantur.     For  he  ran  away, 

Deliquit  enim,  just  that  he  might  'scape 

The  censure  of  both  counseUors  and  crowd, 

Ut  vulgi  et  Doctorum  evitaret 


nOMlNUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    297 

Censuram,  and  lest  so  he  superadd 

To  loss  of  honor  ignominy  too, 

Et  sio  ne  istam  quoque  ignominiam 

Amisso  honori  swperadderef. 

My  lords,  my  lords,  the  inconsiderate  step 

Was  —  we  referred  ourselves  to  law  at  all ! 

Twit  me  not  with,  "  Law  else  had  punished  you !  " 

Each  punishment  of  the  extra-legal  step. 

To  which  the  high-born  preferably  revert, 

Is  ever  for  some  oversight,  some  sUp 

I'  the  taking  vengeance,  not  for  vengeance'  self. 

A  good  thing,  done  unhandsomely,  turns  iU ; 

And  never  yet  lacked  iU  the  law's  rebuke. 

For  pregnant  instance,  let  us  contemplate 

The  luck  of  Leonardus,  —  see  at  large 

Of  Sicily's  Decisions  sixty-first. 

This  Leonard  finds  his  wife  is  false :  what  then  ? 

He  makes  her  own  son  snare  her,  and  entice 

Out  of  the  town  walls  to  a  private  walk, 

Wherein  he  slays  her  with  commodity. 

They  find  her  body  half-devoured  by  dogs  : 

Leonard  is  tried,  convicted,  punished,  sent 

To  labor  in  the  galleys  seven  years  long : 

Why  ?     P'or  the  murder  ?     Nay,  but  for  the  mode ! 

Mains  modus  occidendi,  ruled  the  Court, 

An  ugly  mode  of  killing,  nothing  more  ! 

Another  fructuous  sample,  —  see  "  De  Re 

Criminali,"  in  Matthaeus'  divine  piece. 

Another  husband,  in  no  better  plight. 

Simulates  absence,  thereby  tempts  his  wife  ; 

On  whom  he  falls,  out  of  sly  ambuscade. 

Backed  by  a  brother  of  his,  and  both  of  them 

Armed  to  the  teeth  with  arms  that  law  had  blamed. 

Niinis  dolose,  overwilily, 

Fuisse  operatum,  did  they  work. 

Pronounced  the  Jaw :  had  all  been  fairly  done 

Law  had  not  found  him  worthy,  as  she  did. 

Of  four  years'  exile.     Why  cite  more  ?     Enough 

Is  good  as  a  feast  —  (unless  a  birthday-feast 

For  one's  Cinuccio)  so,  we  finish  here. 

My  lords,  we  rather  need  defend  ourselves 

Inasmuch  as,  for  a  twinkling  of  an  eye, 

We  hesitatingly  appealed  to  law,  — 

Than  need  deny  that,  on  mature  advice, 

We  blushingly  bethought  us,  bade  revenge 

Back  to  its  simple  proper  private  way 


298  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Of  decent  self-dealt  gentlemanly  death. 
Judges,  here  is  the  law,  and  here  beside, 
The  testimony  !     Look  to  it ! 

Pause  and  breathe  I 
So  far  is  only  too  plain  ;  we  must  watch  : 
Bottini  wUl  scarce  hazard  an  attack 
Here  :  best  anticipate  the  fellow's  play, 
And  guard  the  weaker  places  —  warily  ask, 
What  if  considerations  of  a  sort, 
Reasons  of  a  kind,  arise  from  out  the  strange 
Peculiar  unforeseen  new  circumstance 
Of  this  our  (candor  owns)  abnormal  act. 
To  bar  the  right  of  us  revenging  so  ? 

"  Impunity  were  otherwise  your  meed  : 
Go  slay  your  wife  and  welcome,"  — ■  may  be  urged,  - 

"  But  why  the  innocent  old  couple  slay, 
Pietro,  Violante  ?     You  may  do  enough. 
Not  too  much,  not  exceed  the  golden  mean : 
Neither  brute-beast  nor  Pagan,  Gentile,  Jew, 
Nor  Christian,  no  nor  votarist  of  the  mode. 
Is  justified  to  push  revenge  so  far  !  " 

No,  indeed  ?     Why,  thou  very  sciolist ! 

The  actual  wrong,  Pompilia  seemed  to  do. 

Was  virtual  wrong  done  by  the  parents  here  — ■ 

Imposing  her  upon  us  as  their  child  — 

Themselves  allow  :  then,  her  fault  was  their  fault, 

Her  punishment  be  theirs  accordingly ! 

But  wait  a  little,  sneak  not  off  so  soon  ! 

Was  this  cheat  solely  harm  to  Guido,  pray  ? 

The  precious  couple  you  call  innocent,  — 

Why,  they  were  felons  that  Law  failed  to  clutch, 

Qui  ut  frwudarent,  who  that  they  might  rob. 

Legitime  vocatos,  folk  law  called. 

Ad  fidei  cotnmissuTn,  true  heirs  to  the  Trust, 

Partum  supposuerunt,  feigned  this  birth, 

Immemores  reosfactos  esse,  blind 

To  the  fact  that,  guilty,  they  incurred  thereby, 

Ultimi  suppUcii,  hanging  or  what 's  worse. 

Do  you  blame  us  that  we  turn  Law's  instruments, 

Not  mere  self-seekers,  —  mind  the  public  weal. 

Nor  make  the  private  good  our  sole  concern  ? 

That  having  —  shall  I  say  —  secured  a  thief, 

Not  simply  we  recover  from  his  pouch 

The  stolen  article  our  property. 

But  also  pounce  upon  our  neighbor's  purse 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    299 

"We  opportunely  find  reposing  there, 

And  do  him  justice  while  we  right  ourselves  ? 

He  owes  us,  for  our  part,  a  drubbing  say. 

But  owes  our  neighbor  just  a  dance  i'  the  air 

Under  the  gallows :  so,  we  throttle  him. 

That  neighbor 's  Law,  that  couple  are  the  Thief, 

We  are  the  over-ready  to  help  Law  — 

Zeal  of  her  house  hath  eaten  us  up  :  for  which, 

Can  it  be.  Law  intends  to  eat  up  us, 

Crudum  Priamum,  devour  poor  Priam  raw, 

('T  was  Jupiter's  own  joke,)  with  babes  to  boot, 

JPriamique  pisinnos,  in  Homeric  phrase  ? 

Shame  ! and  so  ends  my  period  prettily. 

But  even,  —  prove  the  pair  not  culpable, 
Free  as  unborn  babe  from  connivance  at, 
Participation  in,  their  daughter's  fault : 
Ours  the  mistake.     Is  that  a  rare  event  ? 
Non  semel,  it  is  anything  but  rare, 
In  contingentia  facti,  that  by  chance, 
Impunes  evaserunt,  go  scot-free. 
Qui,  such  well-meaning  people  as  ourselves, 
Justo  dolore  moti,  who  aggrieved 
With  cause,  apposuerunt  manus,  lay 
Rough  hands,  in  innocentes,  on  wrong  heads. 
Cite  we  an  illustrative  case  in  point : 
Mulier  Smimea  qucBcLam,  good  my  lords, 
A  gentlewoman  lived  in  Smyrna  once, 
Virum  etfilium  ex  eo  conceptum,  who 
Both  husband  and  her  son  begot  by  him, 
Killed,  interfecerat,  ex  quo,  because, 
VirJUium  suum  perdiderat,  her  spouse 
Had  been  beforehand  with  her,  killed  her  sonj 
Matrimonii  primi,  of  a  previous  bed. 
Deinde  aceusata,  then  accused, 
Apud  Dolabellam,  before  him  that  sat 
Proconsul,  neo  dudbus  ccedibus 
Contaminatam  liberare,  nor 
To  liberate  a  woman  doubly-dyed 
With  murder,  voluit,  made  he  up  his  mind, 
Nee  condemnare,  nor  to  doom  to  death, 
Justo  dolore  impulsam,  one  impelled 
By  just  grief ;  sed  remisit,  but  sent  her  up 
Ad  Areopagum,  to  the  Hill  of  Mars, 
Sapientissimorum  judicum 
Ccetum,  to  that  assembly  of  the  sage 


300  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Paralleled  only  by  my  judges  here ; 

Ubi,  cognito  de  causa,  where,  the  cause 

Well  weighed,  responsum  est,  they  gave  reply, 

Uf  ipsa  et  acousator,  that  both  sides 

O'  the  suit,  redirent,  should  come  back  again, 

Post  centum  annos,  after  a  hundred  years, 

For  judgment ;  et  sic,  by  which  sage  decree, 

Duplici  parricidio  rea,  one 

Convicted  of  a  double  parricide, 

Quamvis  etiam  innocentem,  though  in  truth 

Out  of  the  pair,  one  innocent  at  least 

She,  occidisset,  plainly  had  put  to  death, 

Undequaque,  yet  she  altogether  'scaped, 

Evasit  impunis.     See  the  case  at  length 

In  Valerius,  fittingly  styled  Maximus, 

That  eighth  book  of  his  Memorable  Facts. 

Nor  Cyriacus  cites  beside  the  mark  : 

Similiter  uxor  quoe  mandaverat, 

Just  so,  a  lady  who  had  taken  care, 

Homicidium  viri,  that  her  lord  be  killed. 

Ex  denegatione  debiti. 

For  denegation  of  a  certain  debt, 

Matrimonialis,  he  was  loth  to  pay, 

Euit  pecuniaria  mulcta,  was 

Amerced  in  a  pecuniary  mulct, 

JPunita,  et  ad  pcenam,  and  to  pains, 

Temporalem,,  for  a  certain  space  of  time, 

In  monasterio,  in  a  convent. 

In  mx)nasterio  !    He  mismanages 

In  with  the  ablative,  the  accusative  ! 

I  had  hoped  to  have  hitched  the  villain  into  verse 

For  a  gift,  this  very  day,  a  complete  list 

0'  the  prepositions  each  with  proper  case, 

TeUing  a  story,  long  was  in  my  head. 

What  prepositions  take  the  accusative  ? 

Ad,to  or  at  —  who  saw  the  cat ?  —  down  to 

Ob,  for,  because  of,  keep  her  claws  off  I    Tush ! 

Law  in  a  man  takes  the  whole  liberty  : 

The  muse  is  fettered :  just  as  Ovid  found !) 

And  now,  sea  widens  and  the  coast  is  clear. 
What  of  the  dubious  act  you  bade  excuse  ? 
Surely  things  broaden,  brighten,  till  at  length 
Remains  —  so  far  from  act  that  needs  defence  — 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    301 

Apology  to  make  for  act  delayed 
One  minute,  let  alone  eight  mortal  months 
Of  hesitation !     "  Why  procrastinate  ?  " 
(Out  with  it,  my  Bottinius,  ease  thyself!) 
"  Right,  promptly  done,  is  twice  right :  right  delayed 
Turns  wrong.     We  grant  you  should  have  killed  your  wife, 
But  killed  o'  the  moment,  at  the  meeting  her 
In  company  with  the  priest :  then  did  the  tongue 
O'  the  Brazen  Head  give  license,  '  Time  is  now  ! ' 
Wait  to  make  mind  up  ?     '  Time  is  past '  it  peals. 
Friend,  you  are  competent  to  mastery 
O'  the  passions  that  confessedly  explain 
An  outbreak  :  you  allow  an  interval, 
And  then  break  out  as  it  time's  clock  stiU  clanged. 
You  have  forfeited  your  chance,  and  flat  you  fall 
Into  the  commonplace  category 
Of  men  bound  to  go  softly  all  their  days, 
Obeying  law." 

Now,  which  way  make  response  ? 
What  was  the  answer  Guide  gave,  himself  ? 
—  That  so  to  argue  came  of  ignorance 
How  honor  bears  a  wound :     "  For,  wound,"  said  he, 
*'  My  body,  and  the  smart  soon  mends  and  ends  : 
While,  wound  my  soul  where  honor  sits  and  rules, 
Longer  the  sufferance,  stronger  grows  the  pain, 
Being  ex  incontinenti,  fresh  as  first." 
But  try  another  tack,  urge  common  sense 
By  way  of  contrast :  say  —  Too  true,  my  lords  ! 
We  did  demur,  awhile  did  hesitate  : 
Since  husband  sure  should  let  a  scruple  speak 
Ere  he  slay  wife,  —  for  his  own  safety,  lords  ! 
Carpers  abound  in  this  misjudging  world : 
Moreover,  there 's  a  nicety  in  law, 
That  seems  to  justify  them  should  they  carp. 
Suppose  the  source  of  injury  a  son,  — 
Father  may  slay  such  son  yet  run  no  risk  : 
Why  graced  with  such  a  privilege  ?     Because 
A  father  so  incensed  with  his  own  child. 
Or  must  have  reason,  or  believe  he  has  : 
Quia  semper,  seeing  that  in  such  event, 
Presumitw,  the  law  is  bound  suppose. 
Quod  capiat  pater,  that  the  sire  must  take, 
Bonum  consilium  pro  JUio, 
The  best  course  as  to  what  befits  his  boy, 
Through  instinct,  ex  instinctu,  of  mere  love, 
Amoris,  and,  paterni,  fatherhood ; 


302  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK. 

Quam  confidentiam,  which  confidence, 
Non  habet,  law  declines  to  entertain, 
De  viro,  of  the  husband :  where  finds  he 
An  instinct  that  compels  him  love  his  wife  ? 
Kather  is  he  presumably  her  foe. 
So,  let  him  ponder  long  in  this  bad  world 
Ere  do  the  simplest  act  of  justice. 

But 
Again  —  and  here  we  brush  Bottini's  breast — 
Object  you,  "  See  the  danger  of  delay ! 
Suppose  a,  man  murdered  my  friend  last  month : 
Had  I  come  up  and  killed  him  for  his  pains 
In  rage,  I  had  done  right,  allows  the  law : 
I  meet  him  now  and  kill  him  in  cold  blood, 
I  do  wrong,  equally  allows  the  law  : 
Wherein  do  actions  differ,  yours  and  mine  ?  " 
In  plenitudine  intellectus  es  ? 
Hast  thy  wits,  Fisc  ?     To  take  such  slayer's  life, 
Returns  it  life  to  thy  slain  friend  at  all  ? 
Had  he  stolen  ring  instead  of  stabbing  friend,  — 
To-day,  to-morrow,  or  next  century. 
Meeting  the  thief,  thy  ring  upon  his  thumb, 
Thou  justifiably  hadst  wrung  it  thence  : 
So,  couldst  thou  wrench  thy  friend's  life  back  again, 
Though  prisoned  in  the  bosom  of  his  foe. 
Why,  law  would  look  complacent  on  thy  wrath. 
Our  case  is,  that  the  thing  we  lost,  we  found : 
The  honor,  we  were  robbed  of  eight  months  since. 
Being  recoverable  at  any  day  * 

By  death  of  the  delinquent.     Go  thy  ways  ! 
Ere  thou  hast  learned  law,  wiU  be  much  to  do. 
As  said  the  gaby  while  he  shod  the  goose. 

Nay,  if  you  urge  me,  interval  was  none ! 
From  the  inn  to  the  Villa  —  blank  or  else  a  bar 
Of  adverse  and  contrarious  incident 
Solid  between  us  and  our  just  revenge  ! 
What  with  the  priest  who  flourishes  his  blade. 
The  wife  who  like  a  fury  flings  at  us. 
The  crowd  —  and  then  the  capture,  the  appeal 
To  Rome,  the  journey  there,  the  jaunting  thence 
To  shelter  at  the  House  of  Convertites, 
The  visits  to  the  VUla,  and  so  forth. 
Where  was  one  minute  left  us  all  this  while 
To  put  in  execution  that  revenge 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    303 

We  planned  o'  the  instant  ?  —  as  it  were,  plumped  down 

O'  the  spot,  some  eight  months  since,  which  round  sound 
egg, 

Rome,  more  propitious  than  our  nest,  should  hatch ! 

Object  not,  "  You  reached  Rome  on  Christmas-eve, 

And,  despite  liberty  to  act  at  once, 

Waited  a  whole  and  indecorous  week  !  " 

Hath  so  the  Molinism,  the  canker,  lords. 

Eaten  to  our  bone  ?     Is  no  religion  left  ? 

No  care  for  aught  held  holy  by  the  Church  ? 

What,  would  you  have  us  skip  and  miss  those  Feasts 

O'  the  Natal  Time,  must  we  go  prosecute 

Secular  business  on  a  sacred  day  ? 

Should  not  the  merest  charity  expect. 

Setting  our  poor  concerns  aside  for  once, 

We  hurried  to  the  song  matutinal 

I'  the  Sistine,  and  pressed  forward  for  the  Mass 

The  Cardinal  that 's  Camerlengo  chants. 

Then  rushed  on  to  the  blessing  of  the  Hat 

And  Rapier,  which  the  Pope  sends  to  what  prince 

Has  done  most  detriment  to  the  Infidel  — 

And  thereby  whetted  courage  if  't  were  blunt  ? 

Meantime,  allow  we  kept  the  house  a  week. 

Suppose  not  we  were  idle  in  our  mew  ! 

Picture  us  raging  here  and  raving  there  — 
"  '  Money  ? '     I  need  none.     '  Friends  ?  '    The  word  is  nuU. 

Restore  the  white  was  on  that  shield  of  mine 

Borne  at  "  .  .  .  wherever  might  be  shield  to  bear. 
"  I  see  my  grandsire,  he  who  fought  so  weU 

At "  .  .  .  here  find  out  and  put  in  time  and  place, 
*    Or  else  invent  the  fight  his  grandsire  fought : 
"  I  see  this  !  I  see  that !  " 

(See  nothing  else, 
Or  I  shall  scarce  see  lamb's  fry  in  an  hour  ! 
What  to  the  uncle,  as  I  bid  advance 
The  smoking  dish  ?     "  Fry  suits  a  tender  tooth! 
Behoves  we  care  a  little  for  our  kin  — 
You,  Sir,  —  who  care  so  much  for  cousinship 
As  come  to  your  poor  loving  nephew's  feast !  " 
He  has  the  reversion  of  a  long  lease  yet  — 
Land  to  bequeath  !     He  loves  lamb's  fry,  I  know  !) 

Here  fall  to  be  considered  those  same  six 
Qualities ;  what  Bottini  needs  must  call 
So  many  aggravations  of  our  crime, 


304  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Parasite-growth  upon  mere  murder's  back. 

We  summarily  might  dispose  of  such 

By  some  ofE-hand  and  jaunty  fling,  some  skit  — 

"  So,  since  there 's  proved  no  crime  to  aggravate, 
A  fico  for  your  aggravations,  Fisc !  " 
No,  —  handle  mischief  rather,  —  play  with  spells 
Were  meant  to  raise  a  spirit,  and  laugh  the  while 
We  show  that  did  he  rise  we  stand  his  match  ! 
Therefore,  first  aggravation  :  we  made  up  — 
Over  and  above  our  simple  murderous  selves  — 
A  regular  assemblage  of  armed  men, 
Coadunatio  armatorum,  —  ay, 
Unluckily  it  was  the  very  judge 
That  sits  in  judgment  on  our  cause  to-day 
Who  passed  the  law  as  Governor  of  Rome : 

"  Four  men  armed,"  — though  for  lawful  purpose,  mark! 
Much  more  for  an  acknowledged  crime,  —  "  shall  die." 
We  five  were  armed  to  the  teeth,  meant  murder  too  ? 
Why,  that 's  the  very  point  that  saves  us,  Fisc  ! 
Let  me  instruct  you.     Crime  nor  done  nor  meant,  — 
You  punish  still  who  arm  and  congregate  : 
For  wherefore  use  bad  means  to  a  good  end  ? 
Crime  being  meant  not  done,  —  you  punish  stiU 
The  means  to  crime,  whereon  you  haply  pounce, 
Though  accident  have  balked  them  of  effect. 
But  crime  not  only  compassed  but  complete, 
Meant  and  done  too  ?     Why,  since  you  have  the  end, 
Be  that  your  sole  concern,  nor  mind  those  means 
No  longer  to  the  purpose !     Murdered  we  ? 
( —  Which,  that  our  luck  was  in  the  present  case, 
Quod  contigisse  in  prcesenti  casu. 
Is  palpable,  manibus  palpatum  est  — ) 
Make  murder  out  against  us,  nothing  else  ! 
Of  many  crimes  committed  with  a  view 
To  one  main  crime.  Law  overlooks  the  less. 
Intent  upon  the  large.     Suppose  a  man 
Having  in  view  commission  of  a  theft, 
Climbs  the  town-wall :  't  is  for  the  theft  he  hangs, 
In  case  he  stands  convicted  of  such  theft : 
Law  remits  whipping,  due  to  who  clomb  wall 
Through  bravery  or  wantonness  alone, 
Just  to  dislodge  a  daw's  nest,  plant  a  flag. 
So  I  interpret  you  the  manly  mind 
Of  him  about  to  judge  both  you  and  me,  — 
Our  Governor,  who,  being  no  Fisc,  my  Fisc, 
Cannot  have  blundered  on  ineptitude ! 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    305 

Next  aggravation,  —  that  the  arms  themselves 
Were  specially  of  such  forbidden  sort 
Through  shape   or  length  or  breadth,  as,  prompt,  Law- 
plucks 
From  single  hand  of  solitary  man. 
Making  him  pay  the  carriage  with  his  life  : 
Delatio  armorum,  arms  against  the  rule. 
Contra  formam  constitutionis,  of 
Pope  Alexander's  blessed  memory. 
Such  are  the  poniards  with  the  double  prong, 
Horn-like,  when  tines  make  bold  the  antlered  buck. 
Each  prong  of  brittle  glass  — wherewith  to  stab 
And  break  o£E  short  and  so  let  fragment  stick 
Fast  in  the  flesh  to  baffle  surgery  : 
Such  being  the  Genoese  blade  with  hooked  edge 
That  did  us  service  at  the  villa  here. 
Sed  parent  mihi  tarn  eximms  vir, 
But,  —  let  so  rare  a  personage  forgive,  — 
Fisc,  thy  objection  is  a  foppery ! 
Thy  charge  runs  that  we  killed  three  innocents : 
Killed,  dost  see  ?     Then,  if  killed,  what  matter  how  ?— 
By  stick  or  stone,  by  sword  or  dagger,  tool 
Long  or  tool  short,  round  or  triangular  — 
Poor  slain  folk  find  small  comfort  in  the  choice ! 
Means  to  an  end,  means  to  an  end,  my  Fisc  ! 
Nature  cries  out,"  Take  the  first  arms  you  find!  " 
Furor  ministrat  arma  :  where  's  a  stone  ? 
Unde  mi  lapidem,  where  darts  for  me  ? 
ZJnde  sagittas  ?     But  subdue  the  bard 
And  rationalize  a  little.     Eight  months  since. 
Had  we,  or  had  we  not,  incurred  your  blame 
For  letting  'scape  unpunished  this  bad  pair  ? 
I  think  I  proved  that  in  last  paragraph ! 
Why  did  we  so  ?     Because  our  courage  failed. 
Wherefore  ?     Through  lack  of  arms  to  fight  the  foe : 
We  had  no  arms  or  merely  lawful  ones, 
An  unimportant  sword  and  blunderbuss, 
Against  a  foe,  poUent  in  potency, 
The  amasius,  and  our  vixen  of  a  wife. 
Well  then,  how  culpably  do  we  gird  loin 
And  once  more  undertake  the  high  emprise, 
Unless  we  load  ourselves  this  second  time 
With  handsome  superfluity  of  arms, 
Since  better  is  "  too  much  "  than  "  not  enough," 
And  "plus  non  vitiat,"  too  much  does  no  harm, 
Except  in  mathematics,  sages  say. 


306  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Gather  instruction  from  the  parable  ! 

At  first  we  are  advised  —  "A  lad  hath  here 

Seven  barley  loaves  and  two  smaU  fishes  :  what 

Is  that  among  so  many  ?  "     Aptly  asked : 

But  put  that  question  twice  and,  quite  as  apt, 

The  answer  is,  "  Fragments,  twelve  baskets  f uU !  " 

And,  while  we  speak  of  superabundance,  fling 

We  word  by  the  way  to  fools  who  cast  their  flout 

On  Gnido  —  "  Punishment  were  pardoned  him, 

But  here  the  punishment  exceeds  offence : 

He  might  be  just,  but  he  was  cruel  too !  " 

Why,  grant  there  seems  a  kind  of  cruelty 

In  downright  stabbing  people  he  could  maim, 

(If  so  you  stigmatize  the  stern  and  strict) 

Still,  Guido  meant  no  cruelty  —  may  plead 

Transgression  of  his  mandate,  over-zeal 

O'  the  part  of  his  companions :  all  he  craved 

Was,  they  should  fray  the  faces  of  the  folk, 

Merely  disfigure,  nowise  make  them  die. 

Solummodofassus  est,  he  owns  no  more, 

Dedisse  mandatum,  than  that  he  desired, 

Ad  sfrisiandum,  dioam,  that  they  hack 

And  hew,  i'  the  customary  phrase,  his  wife, 

Uxorem  tantum,  and  no  harm  beside. 

If  his  instructions  then  be  misconceived. 

Nay,  disobeyed,  impute  you  blame  to  him  ? 

Cite  me  no  Panicollus  to  the  point. 

As  adverse  !     Oh,  I  quite  expect  his  case  — 

How  certain  noble  youths  of  SicUy 

Having  good  reason  to  mistrust  their  wives. 

Killed  them  and  were  absolved  in  consequence  : 

While  others  who  had  gone  beyond  the  need 

By  mutilation  of  each  paramour  — 

As  Galba  in  the  Horatian  satire  grieved 

—  These  were  condemned  to  the  galleys,  cast  for  guilt 

Exceeding  simple  murder  of  a  wife. 

But  why  ?     Because  of  ugliness,  and  not 

Cruelty,  in  the  said  revenge,  I  trow ! 

Me  causa  ahscissionis  partiunn  ; 

Qui  nempe  id  facientes  reputantur 

NaturcB  inimici,  man  revolts 

Against  them  as  the  natural  enemy. 

Pray,  grant  to  one  who  meant  to  slit  the  nose 

And  slash  the  cheek  and  slur  the  mouth,  at  most, 

A  somewhat  more  humane  award  than  these 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    307 

Obtained,  these  natural  enemies  of  man ! 
Objectum  funditus  corruit,  flat  you  fall, 
My  Fisc  !     I  waste  no  kick  on  you,  but  pass. 

Third  aggravation :  that  our  act  was  done  — 

Not  in  the  public  street,  where  safety  lies. 

Not  in  the  by-place,  caution  may  avoid. 

Wood,  cavern,  desert,  spots  contrived  for  crime,  — 

But  in  the  very  house,  home,  nook  and  nest, 

O'  the  victims,  murdered  in  their  dwelling-place, 

In  domo  ac  habitatione  propria, 

Where  all  presumably  is  peace  and  joy. 

The  spider,  crime,  pronounce  we  twice  a  pest 

When,  creeping  from  congenial  cottage,  she 

Taketh  hold  with  her  hands,  to  horrify 

His  household  more,  i'  the  palace  of  the  king. 

All  three  were  housed  and  safe  and  confident. 

Moreover,  the  permission  that  our  wife 

Should  have  at  length  domum  pro  carcere, 

Her  own  abode  in  place  of  prison  —  why. 

We  ourselves  granted,  by  our  other  self 

And  proxy  Paolo  :  did  we  make  such  grant, 

Meaning  a  lure  ?  —  elude  the  vigilance 

O'  the  jailer,  lead  her  to  commodious  death, 

While  we  ostensibly  relented  ? 

Just  so  did  we,  nor  otherwise,  my  Fisc  ! 

Is  vengeance  lawful  ?     We  demand  our  right, 

But  find  it  will  be  questioned  or  refused 

By  jailer,  turnkey,  hangdog,  —  what  know  we  ? 

Pray,  how  is  it  we  should  conduct  ourselves  ? 

To  gain  our  private  right  —  break  public  peace, 

Do  you  bid  us  ?  —  trouble  order  with  our  broils  ? 

Endanger  .  .  .  shall  I  shrink  to  own  .  .  .  ourselves  ?  ^ 

Who  want  no  broken  head  nor  bloody  nose 

(While  busied  slitting  noses,  breaking  heads) 

From  the  first  tipstaff  that  may  interfere ! 

NaTn  quioquid  sit,  for  howsoever  it  be, 

An  de  consensu  nostra,  if  with  leave 

Or  not,  a  monasterio,  from  the  nuns, 

Edtuita  esset,  she  had  been  led  forth, 

Potuimus  id  dissimulare,  we 

May  well  have  granted  leave  in  pure  pretence, 

Ut  aditum  habere,  that  thereby 

An  entry  we  might  compass,  a  free  move 

Potuissemus,  to  her  easy  death, 


308  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Ad  earn  oecidendam.     Privacy 

O'  the  hearth,  and  sanctitude  of  home,  say  you  ? 

Shall  we  give  man's  abode  more  privilege 

Than  God's  ?  —  for  in  the  churches  where  He  dwells, 

In  quibus  assistit  Segum  Sex,  by  means 

Of  His  essence,  per  essentiam,  all  the  same, 

JSt  nihilominus,  therein,  in  eis, 

Mc  justa  via  delinquens,  whoso  dares 

To  take  a  liberty  on  ground  enough, 

Is  pardoned,  excusatur  :  that 's  our  case  — 

Delinquent  through  befitting  cause.     You  hold, 

To  punish  a  false  wife  in  her  own  house 

Is  graver  than,  what  happens  every  day, 

To  hale  a  debtor  from  his  hiding-place 

In  church  protected  by  the  Sacrament  ? 

To  this  conclusion  have  I  brought  my  Fisc  ? 

Foxes  have  holes,  and  fowls  o'  the  air  their  nests ; 

Praise  you  the  impiety  that  follows,  Fisc  ? 

Shall  false  wife  yet  have  where  to  lay  her  head  ? 

"  Contra  Fisoum  definitum  est !  "    He  's  done  ! 

"  Surge  et  scribe,"  make  a  note  of  it ! 

—  If  I  may  dally  with  Aquinas'  word. 

Or  in  the  death-throe  does  he  mutter  still, 

Fourth  aggravation,  that  we  changed  our  garb, 

And  rustieized  ourselves  with  uncouth  hat. 

Hough  vest  and  goatskin  wrappage  ;  murdered  thus 

Mutatione  vestiwm,  in  ^isguise. 

Whereby  mere  murder  got  coniplexed  with  wile, 

Turned  komicidium  ex  insidiis  ?     Fisc, 

How  often  must  I  round  thee  in  the  ears  — 

All  means  are  lawful  to  a  lawful  end  ? 

Concede  he  had  the  right  to  kiU  his  vdfe : 

The  Count  indulged  in  a  travesty ;  why  ? 

De  ilia  ut  vindictam  sumeret, 

That  on  her  he  might  lawful  vengeance  take, 

Gom/modius,  with  more  ease,  et  twtius, 

And  saf elier :  wants  he  warrant  for  the  step  ? 

Read  to  thy  profit  how  the  Apostle  once 

For  ease  and  safety,  when  Damascus  raged, 

Was  let  down  in  a  basket  by  the  wall, 

To  'scape  the  malice  of  the  governor 

(Another  sort  of  Governor  boasts  Rome  !) 

—  Many  are  of  opinion,  —  covered  close, 
Concealed  with  —  what  except  that  very  cloak 
He  left  behind  at  Troas  afterward  ? 

I  shall  not  add  a  syllable  :  Molinists  may  ! 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    309 

Well,  have  we  more  to  manage  ?    Ay,  indeed  ! 
Fifth  aggravation,  that  our  wife  reposed 
Sub  potestate  judiois,  beneath 
Protection  of  the  judge,  —  her  house  was  styled 
A  prison,  and  his  power  became  its  guard 
In  lieu  of  wall  and  gate  and  bolt  and  bar. 
This  is  a  tough  point,  shrewd,  redoubtable  : 
Because  we  have  to  supplicate  that  judge 
Shall  overlook  wrong  done  the  judgment-seat. 
Now,  I  might  suffer  my  own  nose  be  pulled, 
As  man  :  but  then  as  father  ...  if  the  Fisc 
Touched  one  hair  of  my  boy  who  held  my  hand 
In  confidence  he  could  not  come  to  harm 
Crossing  the  Corso,  at  my  own  desire, 
Going  to  see  those  bodies  in  the  church  — 
What  would  you  say  to  that,  Don  Hyacinth? 
This  is  the  sole  and  single  knotty  point : 
For,  bid  Tommati  blink  his  interest. 
You  laud  his  magnanimity  the  while  : 
But  balk  Tommati's  office,  —  he  talks  big ! 
''  My  predecessors  in  the  place,  —  those  sons 
O'  the  prophets  that  may  hope  succeed  me  here,  ^ 
Shall  I  diminish  their  prerogative  ? 
Count  Guido  Franceschini's  honor  !  —  well. 
Has  the  Governor  of  Rome  none  ?  " 

You  perceive, 
The  cards  are  all  against  us.     Make  a  push, 
Kick  over  table,  as  shrewd  gamesters  do ! 
We,  do  you  say,  encroach  upon  the  rights. 
Deny  the  omnipotence  o'  the  Judge  forsooth  ? 
We,  who  have  only  been  from  first  to  last 
Intending  that  his  purpose  should  prevail, 
Nay,  more,  at  times,  anticipating  it 
At  risk  of  his  rebuke  ? 

But  wait  awhile ! 
Cannot  we  lump  this  with  the  sixth  and  last 
Of  thfi  aggravations  —  that  the  Majesty 
O'  the  Sovereign  here  received  a  wound  ?  to  wit, 
LcBsa,  Majestas,  since  our  violence 
Was  out  of  envy  to  the  course  of  law. 
In  odium  litis  ?     We  cut  short  thereby 
Three  pending  suits,  promoted  by  ourselves 
I'  the  main,  —  which  worsens  crime,  accedit  ad 
Mmsperatiormn  criminis  ! 


310        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Yes,  here  the  eruptive  wrath  with  full  eflfect ! 

How,  did  not  indignation  chain  my  tongue, 

Could  I  repel  this  last,  worst  charge  of  all ! 

(There  is  a  porcupine  to  barhecue ; 

Gigia  can  jug  a  rabbit  well  enough, 

"With  sour-sweet  sauce  and  pine-pips ;  but,  good  Lord, 

Suppose  the  devil  instigate  the  wench 

To  stew,  not  roast  him  ?     Stew  my  porcupine  ? 

If  she  does,  I  know  where  his  quills  shall  stick  I 

Come,  I  must  go  myself  and  see  to  things  : 

I  cannot  stay  much  longer  stewing  here.) 

Our  stomach  ...  I  mean,  our  soul  is  stirred  within, 

And  we  want  words.     We  wounded  Majesty  ? 

Fall  under  such  a  censure,  we  ?  —  who  yearned 

So  much  that  Majesty  dispel  the  cloud 

And  shine  on  us  with  healing  on  her  wings. 

That  we  prayed  Pope  Majestas'  very  self 

To  anticipate  a  little  the  tardy  pack, 

Bell  us  forth  deep  the  authoritative  bay 

Should  start  the  beagles  into  sudden  yelp 

Unisonous,  —  and,  Gospel  leading  Law, 

Grant  there  assemble  in  our  own  behoof 

A  Congregation,  a  particular  Court, 

A  few  picked  friends  of  quality  and  place, 

To  hear  the  several  matters  in  dispute, 

Causes  big,  little,  and  indifferent, 

Bred  of  our  marriage  like  a  mushroom-growth, 

All  at  once  (can  one  brush  ofB  such  too  soon  ?) 

And  so  with  laudable  dispatch  decide 

Whether  we,  in  the  main  (to  sink  detail) 

Were  one  the  Pope  should  hold  fast  or  let  go. 

"  What,  take  the  credit  from  the  Law  ?  "  you  ask  ? 
Indeed,  we  did !     Law  ducks  to  Gospel  here  : 
Why  should  Law  gain  the  glory  and  pronounce 
A  judgment  shall  immortalize  the  Pope  ? 
Yes  :  our  self-abnegating  policy 
Was  Joab's  —  we  would  rouse  our  David's  sloth, 
Bid  him  encamp  against  a  city,  sack 
A  place  whereto  ourselves  had  long  laid  siege. 
Lest,  taking  it  at  last,  it  take  our  name 
Nor  be  styled  Innocentinopolis. 
But  no  !     The  modesty  was  in  alarm. 
The  temperance  refused  to  interfere. 
Returned  us  our  petition  with  the  word 

"  Ad  judices  suos,"  "  Leave  him  to  his  Judge !  " 
As  who  should  say,  "  Why  trouble  my  repose  ? 


BOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    811 

Why  consult  Peter  in  a  simple  case, 

Peter's  wife's  sister  in  her  fever-fit 

Might  solve  as  readily  as  the  Apostle's  self  ? 

Are  my  Tribunals  posed  by  aught  so  plain  ? 

Hath  not  my  Court  a  conscience  ?     It  is  of  aee. 

Ask  it ! " 

We  do  ask,  —  but,  inspire  reply 
To  the  Court  thou  bidst  me  ask,  as  I  have  asked  — 
Oh  thou,  vrho  vigilantly  dost  attend 
To  even  the  few,  the  LneSectual  words 
Which  rise  from  this  our  low  and  mundane  sphere 
Up  to  thy  region  out  of  smoke  and  noise, 
Seeking  corroboration  from  thy  nod 
Who  art  aU  justice  —  which  means  mercy  too, 
In  a  low  noisy  smoky  world  like  ours 
Where  Adapi's  sin  made  peccable  his  seed ! 
We  venerate  the  father  of  the  flock, 
Whose  last  faint  sands  of  life,  the  frittered  gold, 
Fall  noiselessly,  yet  all  too  fast,  o'  the  cone 
And  tapering  heap  of  those  collected  years  : 
Never  have  these  been  hurried  in  their  flow. 
Though  justice  fain  would  jog  reluctant  arm, 
In  eagerness  to  take  the  forfeiture 
Of  guilty  life  :  much  less  shall  mercy  sue 
In  vain  that  thou  let  innocence  survive, 
Precipitate  no  minim  of  the  mass 
O'  the  all-so  precious  moments  of  thy  life, 
By  pushing  Guide  into  death  and  doom ! 

(Our  Cardinal  engages  to  go  read 

The  Pope  my  speech,  and  point  its  beauties  out. 

They  say,  the  Pope  has  one  half-hour,  in  twelve, 

Of  something  like  a  moderate  return 

Of  the  intellectuals,  —  never  much  to  lose  !  — 

If  I  adroitly  plant  this  passage  there. 

The  Fisc  will  find  himself  forestalled,  I  think, 

Though  he  stand,  beat  till  the  old  ear-drum  break  I 

—  Ah,  boy  of  my  own  bowels.  Hyacinth, 

Wilt  ever  catch  the  knack,  requite  the  pains 

Of  poor  papa,  become  proficient  too 

I'  tiie  how  and  why  and  when,  the  time  to  laugh, 

The  time  to  weep,  the  time,  again,  to  pray, 

And  all  the  times  prescribed  by  Holy  Writ  ? 

Well,  well,  we  fathers  can  but  care,  but  cast 

Our  bread  upon  the  waters !) 


312  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

In  a  word, 
These  secondary  charges  go  to  ground, 
Since  secondary,  and  superfluous,  —  motes 
Quite  from  the  main  point :  we  did  all  and  some, 
Little  and  much,  adjunct  and  principal. 
Causa  honoris.     Is  there  such  a  cause 
As  the  sake  of  honor  ?     By  that  sole  test  try 
Our  action,  nor  demand  if  more  or  less, 
Because  of  the  action's  mode,  we  merit  blame 
Or  maybe  deserve  praise  !     The  Court  decides. 
Is  the  end  lawful  ?     It  allows  the  means  : 
What  we  may  do,  we  may  with  safety  do. 
And  what  means  "  safety  "  we  ourselves  must  judge. 
Put  case  a  person  wrongs  me  past  dispute : 
If  my  legitimate  vengeance  be  a  blow, 
Misteusting  my  bare  arm  can  deal  that  blow, 
I  claim  co-operation  of  a  stick  ; 
Doubtful  if  stick  be  tough,  I  crave  a  sword ; 
Diffident  of  ability  in  fence, 
I  fee  a  friend,  a  swordsman  to  assist : 
Take  one  —  he  may  be  coward,  fool  or  knave  : 
Why  not  take  fifty  ?  —  and  if  these  exceed 
I'  the  due  degree  of  drubbing,  whom  accu'se 
But  the  first  author  of  the  aforesaid  virong 
Who  put  poor  me  to  such  a  world  of  pains  ? 
Surgery  would  have  just  excised  a  wart ; 
The  patient  made  such  pother,  struggled  so 
That  the  sharp  instrument  sliced  nose  and  all. 
Taunt  us  not  that  our  friends  performed  for  pay ! 
'       Ourselves  had  toiled  for  simple  honor's  sake : 
But  country  clowns  want  dirt  they  comprehend, 
The  piece  of  gold !     Our  reasons,  which  suffice 
Ourselves,  be  ours  alone  ;  our  piece  of  gold 
Be,  to  the  rustic,  reason  he  approves  ! 
We  must  translate  our  motives  like  our  speech. 
Into  the  lower  phrase  that  suits  the  sense 
O'  the  limitedly  apprehensive.     Let 
Each  level  have  its  language  !     Heaven  speaks  first 
To  the  angel,  then  the  angel  tames  the  word 
Down  to  the  ear  of  Tobit :  he,  in  turn. 
Diminishes  the  message  to  his  dog. 
And  finally  that  dog  finds  how  the  flea 
(Which  else,  importunate,  might  check  his  speed) 
Shall  learn  its  hunger  must  have  holiday, 
By  application  of  his  tongue  or  paw  : 
So  many  varied  sorts  of  language  here, 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  BE  ARCSANGELIS    313 

Each  following  each  with  pace  to  match  the  step, 
Hand  passibus  CBquisl 

Talking  of  which  flea, 
Reminds  me  I  must  put  in  special  word 
For  the  poor  humble  following,  —  the  four  friends, 
Sicarii,  our  assassins  caught  and  caged. 
Ourselves  are  safe  in  your  approval  now : 
Yet  must  we  care  for  our  companions,  plead 
The  cause  o'  the  poor,  the  fi-iends  (of  old-world  faith) 
Who  lie  in  tribulation  for  our  sake. 
JPauperum  Procurator  is  my  style  : 
I  stand  forth  as  the  poor  man's  advocate : 
And  when  we  treat  of  what  concerns  the  poor, 
JEt  cum  agatur  de  pauperibiis, 
In  bondage,  caroeratis,  for  their  sake, 
In  eyrum.  causis,  natural  piety, 
Pietas,  ever  ought  to  win  the  day, 
Triwmpha/re  debet,  quia,  ipsi  sunt, 
Because  those  very  paupers  constitute. 
Thesaurus  Christi,  all  the  wealth  of  Christ. 
Nevertheless  I  shall  not  hold  you  long 
With  multiplicity  of  proofs,  nor  burn 
Candle  at  noontide,  clarify  the  clear. 
There  beams  a  case  refulgent  from  our  books  — 
Castrensis,  Butringarins,  ever3rwhere 
I  find  it  burn  to  dissipate  the  dark. 
'T  is  this  :  a  husband  had  a  friend,  which  friend 
Seemed  to  him  over-friendly  with  his  wife 
In  thought  and  purpose,  —  I  pretend  no  more. 
To  justify  suspicion  or  dispel, 
He  bids  his  wife  make  show  of  giving  heed. 
Semblance  of  sympathy  —  propose,  in  fine, 
A  secret  meeting  in  a  private  place. 
The  friend,  enticed  thus,  finds  an  ambuscade, 
To  wit,  the  husband  posted  with  a  pack 
Of  other  friends,  who  fall  upon  the  first 
And  beat  his  love  and  life  out  both  at  once. 
These  friends  were  brought  to  question  for  their  help ; 
Law  ruled,  "  The  husband  being  in  the  right, 
Who  helped  him  in  the  right  can  scarce  be  wrong  "  — 
Opinio,  an  opinion  every  way, 
Multum  tenenda  cordi,  heart  should  hold  ! 
When  the  inferiors  follow  as  befits 
The  lead  o'  the  principal,  they  change  their  name, 
And,  non  dicuntur,  are  no  longer  called 


314  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

His  mandatories,  mandatorii, 

But  helpmates,  sed  auxiliatores  ;  since 

To  that  degree  does  honor's  sake  lend  aid, 

Adeo  honoris  causa  est  efficax, 

That  not  alone,  non  solum,  does  it  pour 

Itself  out,  S6  diffundat,  on  mere  friends 

We  bring  to  do  our  bidding  of  this  sort, 

Jn  mandatorios  svmplices,  but  sucks 

Along  with  it  in  wide  and  generous  whirl, 

Sed  etiam  assassinii  qiialitate 

Qualifieatos,  people  qualified 

By  the  quality  of  assassination's  self, 

Dare  I  make  use  of  such  neologism, 

Ut  utar  verho. 

Haste  we  to  conclude  : 
Of  the  other  points  that  favor,  leave  some  few 
For  Spreti ;  such  as  the  delinquents'  youth. 
One  of  them  falls  short,  by  some  months,  of  age 
Fit  to  be  managed  by  the  gallows  ;  two 
May  plead  exemption  from  our  law's  award. 
Being  foreigners,  subjects  of  the  Granduke  — 
I  spare  that  bone  to  Spreti,  and  reserve 
Myself  the  juicier  breast  of  argument  — 
Flinging  the  breast-blade  i'  the  face  o'  the  Fisc, 
Who  furnished  me  the  tidbit :  he  must  needs 
Play  off  his  privilege  and  rack  the  clowns,  — 
And  they,  at  instance  of  the  rack,  confess 
All  four  unanimously  made  resolve,  — 
The  night  o'  the  murder,  in  brief  minute  snatched 
Behind  the  back  of  Guido  as  he  fled,  — 
That,  since  he  had  not  kept  his  promise,  paid 
The  money  for  the  murder  on  the  spot. 
So,  reaching  home  again,  might  please  ignore 
The  pact  or  pay  them  in  improper  coin,  — 
They  one  and  all  resolved,  these  hopeful  friends, 
'T  were  best  inaugurate  the  morrow's  light. 
Nature  recruited  with  her  due  repose, 
By  killing  Guido  as  he  lay  asleep 
Pillowed  on  wallet  which  contained  their  fee. 

I  thank  the  Fisc  for  knowledge  of  this  fact : 
What  fact  could  hope  to  make  more  manifest 
Their  rectitude,  Guido's  integrity  ? 
For  who  fails  recognize  the  touching  truth 
That  these  poor  rustics  bore  no  envy,  hate. 


DOM  IN  us  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    315 

Malice  nor  yet  uncharitableness 

Against  the  people  they  had  put  to  death  ? 

In  them,  did  such  an  iict  reward  itself  ? 

All  done  was  to  deserve  the  simple  pay, 

Obtain  the  bread  clowns  earn  by  sweat  of  brow, 

And  missing  which,  they  missed  of  everything  — 

Hence  claimed  pay,  even  at  expense  of  life 

To  their  own  lord,  so  little  warped  (admire !) 

By  prepossession,  such  the  absolute 

Instinct  of  equity  in  rustic  souls  ! 

Whereas  our  Count,  the  cultivated  mind, 

He,  wholly  rapt  in  his  serene  regard 

Of  honor,  he  contemplating  the  sun. 

Who  hardly  marks  if  taper  blink  below, 

He,  dreaming  of  no  argument  for  death 

Except  a  vengeance  worthy  noble  hearts,  — 

Dared  not  so  desecrate  the  deed,  forsooth, 

Vulgarize  vengeance,  as  defray  its  cost 

By  money  dug  from  out  the  dirty  earth. 

Irritant  mere,  in  Ovid's  phrase,  to  ill. 

What  though  he  lured  base  hinds  by  lucre's  hope,  — 

The  only  motive  they  could  masticate,    - 

Milk  for  babes,  not  strong  meat  which  men  require  ? 

The  deed  done,  those  coarse  hands  were  soiled  enough, 

He  spared  them  the  pollution  of  the  pay. 

So  much  for  the  aUegement,  thine,  my  Fisc, 

Quo  nil  ahsurdms,  than  which  nought  more  mad, 

Eaxogitari  potest,  may  be  squeezed 

From  out  the  cogitative  brain  of  thee ! 

And  now,  thou  excellent  the  Governor ! 

(Push  to  the  peroration)  cceterum 

Enixe  supplico,  I  strive  in  prayer, 

Ut  dominis  meis,  that  unto  the  Court, 

Benigna  fronte,  with  a  gracious  brow, 

Et  OGulis  serenis,  and  mild  eyes, 

Perpendere  placeat,  it  may  please  them  weigh. 

Quod  dominus  Cfuido,  that  our  noble  Count, 

Occidit,  did  the  killing  in  dispute, 

Ut  ejus  honor  tumulatus,  that 

The  honor  of  him  buried  fathom-deep 

In  infamy,  in  infamia,  might  arise, 

Resurgeret,  as  ghost  breaks  sepulchre  ! 

Occidit,  for  he  killed,  uxorem,  wife, 

Quia  illifuit,  since  she  was  to  him, 

Opprohrio,  a  disgrace  and  nothing  more  I 


316        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Et  genitores,  killed  her  parents  too, 

Qui,  who,  postposita  verecundia, 

Having  thrown  off  all  sort  of  decency, 

FUiam  repudiarunt,  had  renounced 

Their  daughter,  atqiie  declarare  non 

Erubuerunt,  nor  felt  blush  tinge  cheek, 

Declaring,  meretricis  genitam 

Esse,  she  was  the  offspring  of  a  drab, 

Ut  ipse  dehonestaretur,  just 

That  so  himself  might  lose  his  social  rank  ! 

Cujus  mentem,  and  which  daughter's  heart  and  soul, 

They,  perverterunt,  turned  from  the  right  course, 

Et  ad  illieitos  amoves  non 

Dumtaxat  pellexerunt,  and  to  love 

Not  simply  did  alluringly  incite, 

Sed  vi  ohediervtioB,  but  by  force 

O'  the  duty,  JUialis,  daughters  owe, 

Coegerunt,  forced  and  drove  her  to  the  deed  : 

Occidit,  I  repeat  he  killed  the  clan, 

Ne  scilicet  amplius  in  dedecore, 

Lest  peradventure  longer  life  might  trail, 

Viveret,  link  by  link  his  turpitude, 

Jnvisus  consanguineis,  hateful  so 

To  kith  and  kindred,  a  nobilibus 

Notatus,  shunned  by  men  of  quality, 

Mdictus  db  amicis,  left  i'  the  lurch 

By  friends,  ab  omnibus  derisus,  turned 

A  common  hack-block  to  try  edge  of  jokes. 

Occidit,  and  he  killed  them  here  in  Rome, 

In  TJrhe,  the  Eternal  City,  Sirs, 

Nempe  quce  alias  spectata  est. 

The  appropriate  theatre  which  witnessed  once, 

Matronam  nabUem,  Lucretia's  self, 

Ahluere  pudicitice  macidas, 

Wash  off  the  spots  of  her  pudicity, 

Sanguine  propria,  with  her  own  pure  blood ; 

Quce  vidit,  and  which  city  also  saw, 

Patrem,  Virginius,  undequague,  quite, 

Impunem,  with  no  sort  of  punishment. 

Nor,  et  non  illavdatum,  lacking  praise, 

Sed  polluentem,  parricidio. 

Imbrue  his  hands  with  butchery,  filirn, 

Of  chaste  Virginia,  to  avoid  a  rape, 

Ne  raperetur  ad  stupra  ;  so  to  heart, 

Tanti  illi  eordifuit,  did  he  take, 

Suspicio,  the  mere  fancy  men  might  have. 


BOMINUS  HYAGINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    317 

Honoris  amittendi,  of  fame's  loss, 

Ut  potins  voluerit  filia 

Orbari,  he  preferred  to  lose  his  child, 

Qvum  ilia  incederet,  rather  than  she  walk 

The  ways  an,  inhonesta,  child  disgraced, 

Licet  non  sponte,  though  against  her  will. 

Occidit  —  killed  them,  I  reiterate  — 

In  propria  domw,  in  their  own  abode, 

Ut  adidtera  et  parentes,  that  each  wretch, 

Conscii  agnoscerent,  might  both  see  and  say. 

Nullum,  locum,  there  's  no  place,  mdlumgue  esse 

Asylum^  nor  yet  refuge  of  escape, 

ImpenetrdbUem,  shall  serve  as  bar, 

Honori  Iceso,  to  the  wounded  one 

In  honor  ;  neve  ibi  opprobria 

Continuurentur,  killed  them  on  the  spot 

Moreover,  dreading  lest  within  those  walls 

The  opprobrium  peradventure  be  prolonged, 

JSt  domus  qucB  testis  fuii  turpium, 

And  that  the  domicile  which  witnessed  crime, 

Esset  et  peence,  might  watch  punishment : 

Occidit,  kiUed,  I  round  you  in  the  ears, 

Quia  alio  Tnodo,  since  by  other  mode, 

Non  poterat  ejus  existimatio. 

There  was  no  possibiUty  his  fame, 

LcBsa,  gashed  griesly,  tam,  enormiter, 

Dticere  cicatrices,  might  be  healed  : 

Occidit  ut  eaxmvpVwm  prceberet 

Uxoribus,  killed  her,  so  to  lesson  wives 

Jura  conjugii,  that  the  marriage-oath. 

Esse  servanda,  must  be  kept  henceforth : 

Occidit  denique,  kiUed  her,  in  a  word, 

Ut  pro  posse  honestus  viveret. 

That  he,  please  God,  might  creditably  live, 

Sin  minus,  but  if  fate  willed  otherwise, 

Proprii  Jwnoris,  of  his  outraged  fame, 

Offensi,  by  Mannaia,  if  you  please, 

Commiseranda  victima  caderet, 

The  pitiable  victim  he  should  fall ! 

Done !     I'  the  rough,  i'  the  rough  !     But  done  !     And,  lo, 

Landed  and  stranded  lies  my  very  speech, 

My  miracle,  my  monster  of  defence  — 

Leviathan  into  the  nose  whereof 

I  have  put  fish-hook,  pierced  his  jaw  with  thorn, 

And  given  him  to  my  maidens  for  a  play  I 


318  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

T  the  rough  :  to-morrow  I  review  my  piece, 
Tame  here  and  there  undue  floridity. 
It 's  hard  :  you  have  to  plead  before  these  priests 
And  poke  at  them  with  Scripture,  or  you  pass 
For  heathen  and,  what 's  worse,  for  ignorant 
O'  the  quality  o'  the  Court  and  what  it  likes 
By  way  of  illustration  of  the  law. " 
To-morrow  stick  in  this,  and  throw  out  that, 
And,  having  first  ecclesiasticized, 
Regularize  the  whole,  next  emphasize, 
Then  latinize,  and  lastly  Cicero-ize, 
Giving  my  Fisc  his  finish.     There 's  my  speech ! 
And  where  's  my  fry,  and  family  and  friends  ? 
Where 's  that  huge  Hyacinth  I  mean  to  hug 
Till  he  cries  out,  "  Jam  satis  !  Let  me  breathe !  " 
Now,  what  an  evening  have  I  earned  to-day  ! 
Hail,  ye  true  pleasures,  all  the  rest  are  false ! 
Oh,  the  old  mother,  oh,  the  fattish  wife ! 
Rog^e  Hyacinth  shall  put  on  paper  toque. 
And  wrap  himself  around  with  mamma's  veil 
Done  up  to  imitate  papa's  black  robe, 
(I  'm  in  the  secret  of  the  comedy,  — 
Part  of  the  program  leaked  out  long  ago  !) 
And  call  himself  the  Advocate  o'  the  Poor, 
Mimic  Don  father  that  defends  the  Count : 
And  for  reward  shall  have  a  small  full  glass 
Of  manly  red  rosolio  to  himself, 
—  Always  provided  that  he  conjugate 
Bibo,  I  drink,  correctly  —  nor  be  found 
Make  the  perfectum,  bipsi,  as  last  year  ! 
How  the  ambitious  do  so  harden  heart 
As  lightly  hold  by  these  home-sanctitudes, 
To  me  is  matter  of  bewilderment  — 
Bewilderment!     Because  ambition's  range 
Is  nowise  tethered  by  domestic  tie  : 
Am  I  refused  an  outlet  from  my  home 
To  the  world's  stage  ?  —  whereon  a  man  should  play 
The  man  in  public,  vigilant  for  law. 
Zealous  for  truth,  a  credit  to  his  kind, 
Nay,  —  since,  employing  talent  so,  I  yield 
The  Lord  His  own  again  with  usury,  — 
A  satisfaction,  yea,  to  God  Himself  ! 
Well,  I  have  modelled  me  by  Agur's  wish, 
"  Remove  far  from  me  vanity  and  lies. 
Feed  me  with  food  convenient  for  me  !  "     What 
r  the  world  should  a  wise  man  require  beyond  ? 


DOMINUS  HYACINTHUS  DE  ARCHANGELIS    319 

Can  I  but  coax  the  good  fat  little  wife 
To  tell  her  fool  of  a  father  the  mad  prank 
His  scapegrace  nephew  played  this  time  last  year 
At  Carnival !     He  could  not  choose,  I  think, 
But  modify  that  inconsiderate  gift 
,  O'  the  cup  and  cover  (somewhere  in  the  wUl 
Under  the  pillow,  some  one  seems  to  guess) 
—  Correct  that  clause  in  favor  of  a  boy 
The  trifle  ought  to  grace,  with  name  engraved, 
Would  look  so  well,  produced  in  future  years 
To  pledge  a  memory,  when  poor  papa 
Latin  and  law  are  long  since  laid  at  rest  — 
Hyacintho  dono  dedit  avus  !     Why, 
The  wife  should  get  a  necklace  for  her  pains, 
The  very  pearls  that  made  Violante  proud, 
And  Pietro  pawned  for  half  their  value  once,  — 
Redeemable  by  somebody,  we  sit 
Marita  quae  rotundioribus 
Onusta  m/mtvmis  .  .  .  baccis  ambulet : 
Her  bosom  shaU  display  the  big  round  balls. 
No  braver  proudly  borne  by  wedded  wife  ! 
With  which  Horatian  promise  I  /sonclude. 

Into  the  pigeon-hole  with  thee,  my  speech  ! 
Off  and  away,  first  work,  then  play,  play,  play ! 
Bottini,  burn  thy  books,  thou  blazing  ass  ! 
Sing  "  Tra-la-la,  for,  lambkins,  we  must  live ! " 


rx. 

JURIS  DOCTOE  JOHANNES-BAPTISTA  BOTTINIUS 

FISCI  ET  KEY.  CAM,  APOSTOL.  ADVOCATUS. 

Had  I  God's  leave,  how  I  would  alter  things ! 

If  I  might  read  instead  of  print  my  speech,  — 

Ay,  and  enliven  speech  with  many  a  flower 

Refuses  obstinate  to  blow  in  print, 

As  wildings  planted  in  a  prim  parterre,  — 

This  scurvy  room  were  turned  an  immense  hall ; 

Opposite,  fifty  judges  in  a  row  ; 

This  side  and  that  of  me,  for  audience  —  Rome : 

And,  where  yon  window  is,  the  Pope  should  hid«  — 

Watch,  curtained,  but  peep  visibly  enough. 

A  buzz  of  expectation !     Through  the  crowd, 

Jingling  his  chain  and  stumping  with  his  staff, 

Up  comes  an  usher,  louts  him  low,  "  The  Court 

Requires  the  allocution  of  the  Fisc !  " 

I  rise,  I  bend,  I  look  about  me,  pause 

O'er  the  hushed  multitude  :    I  count  —  One,  two  — 


Have  ye  seen.  Judges,  have  ye,  lights  of  law,  — 

When  it  may  hap  some  painter,  much  in  vogue 

Throughout  our  city  nutritive  of  arts. 

Ye  summon  to  a  task  shall  test  his  worth. 

To  manufacture,  as  he  knows  and  can, 

A  work  may  decorate  a  palace-wall. 

Afford  my  lords  their  Holy  Family,  — 

Hath  it  escaped  the  acumen  of  the  Court 

How  such  a  painter  sets  himself  to  paint  ? 

Suppose  that  Joseph,  Mary  and  her  Babe 

A-journeying  to  Egypt,  prove  the  piece : 

Why,  first  he  sedulously  practiseth. 

This  painter,  —  girding  loin  and  lighting  lamp,  — 

On  what  may  nourish  eye,  make  facile  hand  ; 

Getteth  him  studies  (styled  by  draughtsmen  so) 

From  some  assistant  corpse  of  Jew  or  Turk 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA   BOTTINIUS  321 

Or,  haply,  Molinist,  he  cuts  and  carves,  — 
This  Luca  or  this  Carlo  or  the  like. 
To  him  the  bones  their  inmost  secret  yield, 
Each  notch  and  nodule  signify  their  use : 
On  him  the  muscles  turn,  in  triple  tier, 
And  pleasantly  entreat  the  entrusted  man 
"  Familiarize  thee  with  our  play  that  lifts 
Thus,  and  thus  lowers  again,  leg,  arm  and  foot ! " 
—  Ensuring  due  correctness  in  the  nude. 
Which  done,  is  all  done  ?     Not  a  whit,  ye  know ! 
He,  — to  art's  surface  rising  from  her  depth,  — 
If  some  flax-polled  soft-bearded  sire  be  found, 
May  simulate  a  Joseph,  (happy  chance !)  — 
Limneth  exact  each  wrinkle  of  the  brow, 
Loseth  no  involution,  cheek  or  chap. 
Till  lo,  in  black  and  white,  the  senior  lives ! 
Is  it  a  young  and  comely  peasant-nurse 
That  poseth  ?  (be  the  phrase  accorded  me  !) 
Each  feminine  delight  of  florid  lip. 
Eyes  brimming  o'er  and  brow  bowed  down  with  lore, 
Marmoreal  neck  and  bosom  uberous,  — 
Glad  on  the  paper  in  a  trice  they  go 
To  help  his  notion  of  the  Mother-maid : 
Methinks  I  see  it,  chalk  a  little  stumped  ! 
Yea  and  her  babe  —  that  flexure  of  soft  limbs. 
That  budding  face  imbued  with  dewy  sleep, 
Contribute  each  an  excellence  to  Christ. 
Nay,  since  he  humbly  lent  companionship, 
Even  the  poor  ass,  unpanniered  and  elate 
Stands,  perks  an  ear  up,  he  a  model  too ; 
While  clouted  shoon,  staff,  scrip  and  water-gourd,  — 
Aught  may  betoken  travel,  heat  and  haste,  — 
No  jot  nor  tittle  of  these  but  in  its  turn 
Ministers  to  perfection  of  the  piece  : 
Till  now,  such  piece  before  him,  part  by  part,  — 
Such  prelude  ended,  —  pause  our  painter  may, 
Submit  his  fifty  studies  one  by  one. 
And  in  some  sort  boast  "  I  have  served  my  lords." 

But  what  ?     And  hath  he  painted  once  this  while  ? 
Or  when  ye  cry,  "  Produce  the  thing  required, 
Show  us  our  picture  shall  rejoice  its  niche. 
Thy  Journey  through  the  Desert  done  in  oUs  ! "  — 
What,  doth  he  fall  to  shuffling  'mid  his  sheets, 
Fumbling  for  first  this,  then  the  other  fact 
Consigned  to  paper,  —  "  studies,"  bear  the  term !  — 


322  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  stretch  a  canvas,  mix  a  pot  of  paste, 

And  fasten  here  a  head  and  there  a  tail, 

(The  ass  hath  one,  my  Judges !  )  so  dove-tail 

Or,  rather,  ass-tail  in,  piece  sorrily  out  — 

By  bits  of  reproduction  of  the  life  — 

The  picture,  the  expected  Family  ? 

I  trow  not !  do  I  miss  with  my  conceit 

The  mark,  my  lords  ?  —  not  so  my  lords  were  served ! 

Bather  your  artist  turns  abrupt  from  these, 

And  preferably  buries  him  and  broods 

(Quite  away  from  aught  vulgar  and  extern) 

On  the  inner  spectrum,  filtered  through  the  eye. 

His  brain-deposit,  bred  of  many  a  drop, 

E  plurilrus  unum  :  and  the  wiser  he  ! 

For  in  that  brain,  —  their  fancy  sees  at  work. 

Could  my  lords  peep  indulged,  —  results  alone, 

Not  processes  which  nourish  such  results. 

Would  they  discover  and  appreciate,  — life 

Fed  by  digestion,  not  raw  food  itself. 

No  gobbets  but  smooth  comfortable  chyme 

Secreted  from  each  snapped-up  crudity,  — 

Less  distinct,  part  by  part,  but  in  the  whole 

Truer  to  the  subject,  —  the  main  central  truth 

And  soul  o'  the  picture,  would  my  Judges  spy,  — 

Not  those  mere  fragmentary  studied  facts 

Which  answer  to  the  outward  frame  and  flesh  — 

Not  this  nose,  not  that  eyebrow,  the  other  fact 

Of  man's  staff,  woman's  stole  or  infant's  clout, 

But  lo,  a  spirit-birth  conceived  of  flesh. 

Truth  rare  and  real,  not  transcripts,  fact  and  false. 

The  studies  —  for  his  pupils  and  himself ! 

The  picture  be  for  our  eximious  Rome 

And  —  who  knows  ?  —  satisfy  its  Governor, 

Whose  new  wing  to  the  viUa  he  hath  bought 

(God  give  him  joy  of  it)  by  Capena,  soon 

('T  is  bruited)  shall  be  glowing  with  the  brush 

Of  who  hath  long  surpassed  the  Florentine, 

The  Urbinate  and  .  .  .  what  if  I  dared  add. 

Even  his  master,  yea  the  Cortonese,  — 

I  mean  the  accomplished  Giro  Ferri,  Sirs  ! 

( —  Did  not  he  die  ?     I  'U  see  before  I  print.) 

End  we  exordium,  Phoebus  plucks  my  ear ! 
Thus  then,  just  so  and  no  whit  otherwise, 
Have  I,  —  engaged  as  I  were  Giro's  self. 
To  paint  a  parallel,  a  Family, 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA  BOTTINIUS  323 

The  patriarch  Pietro  with  his  wise  old  wife 
To  boot  (as  if  one  introduced  Saint  Anne 
By  bold  conjecture  to  complete  the  group) 
And  juvenile  PompUia  with  her  babe, 
Who,  seeking  safety  in  the  wilderness. 
Were  all  surprised  by  Herod,  while  outstretched 
In  sleep  beneath  a  pahn-tree  by  a  spring, 
And  killed  —  the  very  circumstance  I  paint, 
Moving  the  pity  and  terror  of  my  lords  — 
Exactly  so  have  I,  a  month  at  least, 
Your  Fiscal,  made  me  cognizant  of  facts. 
Searched  out,  pried  into,  pressed  the  meaning  forth 
Of  every  piece  of  evidence  in  point, 
How  bloody  Herod  slew  these  innocents,  — 
Until  the  glad  result  is  gained,  the  group 
Demonstrably  presented  in  detail, 
Their  slumber  and  his  onslaught,  —  like  as  life. 
Yea,  and,  availing  me  of  help  allowed 
By  law,  discreet  provision  lest  my  lords 
Be  too  much  troubled  by  efBrontery,  — 
The  rack,  law  plies  suspected  crime  withal  — 
(Law  that  hath  listened  while  the  lyrist  sang 
"  Lene  tormentum  ingenio  admoves,'^ 

Gently  thou  joggest  by  a  twinge  the  wit, 
"  Tlerwmque  duro,"  else  were  slow  to  blab !) 
Through  this  concession  my  fuU  cup  runs  o'er : 
The  guilty  owns  his  guilt  without  reserve. 
Therefore  by  part  and  part  I  clutch  my  case 
Which,  in  entirety  now,  —  momentous  task,  — 
My  lords  demand,  so  render  them  I  must, 
Since,  one  poor  pleading  more  and  I  have  done. 
But  shall  I  ply  my  papers,  play  my  proofs. 
Parade  my  studies,  fifty  in  a  row. 
As  though  the  Court  were  yet  in  pupilage, 
Claimed  not  the  artist's  ultimate  appeal  ? 
Much  rather  let  me  soar  the  height  prescribed 
And,  bowing  low,  proffer  my  picture's  self ! 
No  more  of  proof,  disproof,  —  such  virtue  was, 
Such  vice  was  never  in  Pompilia,  now  ! 
Far  better  say  "  Behold  Pompilia !  "  —  (for 
I  leave  the  family  as  unmanageable. 
And  stick  to  just  one  portrait,  but  life-size.) 
Hath  calumny  imputed  to  the  fair 
A  blemish,  mole  on  cheek  or  wart  on  chin. 
Much  more,  blind  hidden  horrors  best  unnamed  ? 
Shall  I  descend  to  prove  you,  point  by  point, 


324  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Never  was  knock-knee  known  nor  splay-foot  found 
In  Phryne  ?     (I  must  let  the  portrait  go, 
Content  me  with  the  model,  I  believe)  ^ 

—  I  prove  this  ?     An  indignant  sweep  of  hand. 
Dash  at  and  doing  away  with  drapery, 

And,  —  use  your  eyes,  Athenians,  smooth  she  smiles ' 
Or,  —  since  my  client  can  no  longer  smile, 
And  more  appropriate  instances  abound,  — 
What  is  this  Tale  of  Tarquin,  how  the  slave 
Was  caught  by  him,  preferred  to  CoUatine  ? 
Thou,  even  from  thy  corpse-clothes  virginal, 
Look'st  the  lie  dead,  Lucretia ! 

Thus  at  least 
I,  by  the  guidance  of  antiquity, 
(Our  one  infallible  guide,)  now  operate. 
Sure  that  the  innocence  thus  shown  is  safe ; 
Sure,  too,  that,  whUe  I  plead,  the  echoes  cry 
(Lend  my  weak  voice  thy  trump,  sonorous  Fame  !) 
"  Monstrosity  the  Phrynean  shape  shall  mar, 
Lucretia's  soul  comport  with  Tarquin's  lie, 
When  thistles  grow  on  vines  or  thorns  yield  figs, 
Or  oblique  sentence  leave  this  judgment-seat !  " 

A  great  theme :  may  my  strength  be  adequate ! 
For  —  paint  Pompilia,  dares  my  feebleness  ? 
How  did  I  unaware  engage  so  much 

—  Find  myself  undertaking  to  produce 
A  faultless  nature  in  a  flawless  form  ? 

What 's  here  ?     Oh,  turn  aside  nor  dare  the  blaze 

Of  such  a  crown,  such  constellation,  say. 

As  jewels  here  thy  front.  Humanity ! 

First,  infancy,  pellucid  as  a  pearl ; 

Then,  childhood — stone  which,  dewdrop  at  the  first, 

(An  old  conjecture)  sucks,  by  dint  of  gaze, 

Blue  from  the  sky  and  turns  to  sapphire  so : 

Yet  both  these  gems  eclipsed  by,  last  and  best, 

Womanliness  and  wifehood  opaline. 

Its  milk-white  pallor,  —  chastity,  —  suffused 

With  here  and  there  a  tint  and  hint  of  flame,  — 

Desire,  —  the  lapidary  loves  to  find. 

Such  jewels  bind  conspicuously  thy  brow, 

Pompilia,  infant,  child,  maid,  woman,  wife  — 

Crown  the  ideal  in  our  earth  at  last ! 

What  should  a  faculty  like  mine  do  here  ? 

Close  eyes,  or  else,  the  rashlier  hurry  hand ! 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA   BOTTINIUS  325 

Which  is  to  say, ' —  lose  no  time  but  begin  ! 
Sermocinando  ne  declamem,  Sirs, 
Ultra  clepsydram,  as  our  preachers  smile, 
Lest  I  exceed  my  hour-glass.     Whereupon, 
As  Flaccus  prompts,  I  dare  the  epic  plunge  — 
Begin  at  once  with  marriage,  up  till  when 
Little  or  nothing  would  arrest  your  love, 
In  the  easeful  life  o'  the  lady ;  lamb  and  lamb, 
How  do  they  differ  ?     Know  one,  you  know  all 
Manners  of  maidenhood :  mere  maiden  she. 
And  since  all  lambs  are  like  in  more  than  fleece. 
Prepare  to  find  that,  lamb-like,  she  too  frisks  — 
O'  the  weaker  sex,  my  lords,  the  weaker  sex ! 
To  whom,  the  Teian  teaches  us,  for  gift, 
Not  strength,  —  man's  dower,  —  but  beauty,  nature  gave, 
*'  Beauty  in  lieu  of  spears,  in  lieu  of  shields !  " 
And  what  is  beauty's  sure  concomitant, 
Nay,  Lutimate  essential  character, 
But  melting  wiles,  deHciousest  deceits. 
The  whole  redoubted  armory  of  love  ? 
Therefore  of  vernal  pranks,  disheveHings 
O'  the  hair  of  youth  that  dances  April  in, 
And  easUy-imagfined  Hebe-slips 

O'er  sward  which  May  makes  over-smooth  for  foot — 
These  shall  we  pry  into  ?  —  or  wiselier  wink. 
Though  numerous  and  dear  they  may  have  been  ? 

For  lo,  advancing  Hymen  and  his  pomp ! 

DiscedurU  nunc  amoves,  loves,  farewell ! 

Maneat  amor,  let  love,  the  sole,  remain  ! 

Farewell  to  dewiness  and  prime  of  life ! 

Kemains  the  rough  determined  day  :  dance  done. 

To  work,  with  plough  and  harrow !     What  comes  next  ? 

'T  is  Guido  henceforth  guides  Pompiha's  step, 

Cries  "  No  more  friskings  o'er  the  foodful  glebe. 

Else,  'ware  the  whip !  "     Accordingly,  —  first  crack 

O'  the  thong,  —  we  hear  that  his  young  wife  was  baiTTed, 

Cohihita  fuit,  from  the  old  free  life, 

Vitam  liheriorem  ducere. 

Demur  we  ?     Nowise :  heifer  brave  the  hind  ? 

We  seek  not  there  should  lapse  the  natural  law, 

The  proper  piety  to  lord  and  king. 

And  husband  :  let  the  heifer  bear  the  yoke  ! 

Only,  I  crave  he  cast  not  patience  ofB, 

This  hind ;  for  deem  you  she  endures  the  whip. 

Nor  winces  at  the  goad,  nay,  restive,  kicks  ? 


826  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

What  if  the  adversary's  charge  be  just, 

And  all  untowardly  she  pursue  her  way 

With  groan  and  grunt,  though  hind  strike  ne'er  so  hard  ? 

If  petulant  remonstrance  made  appeal, 

Unseasonable,  o'erprotracted,  —  if 

Importunate  challenge  taxed  the  public  ear 

When  silence  more  decorously  had  served 

For  protestation,  —  if  Pompilian  plaint 

Wrought  but  to  aggravate  Guidonian  ire,  — 

Why,  such  mishaps,  ungainly  though  they  be. 

Ever  companion  change,  are  incident 

To  altered  modes  and  novelty  of  life : 

The  philosophic  mind  expects  no  less. 

Smilingly  knows  and  names  the  crisis,  sits 

Waiting  till  old  things  go  and  new  arrive. 

Therefore,  I  hold  a  husband  but  inept 

Who  turns  impatient  at  such  transit-time, 

As  if  this  running  from  the  rod  would  last ! 

Since,  even  while  I  speak,  the  end  is  reached : 

Success  awaits  the  soon-disheartened  man. 

The  parents  turn  their  backs  and  leave  the  house, 

The  wife  may  wail  but  none  shall  intervene  : 

He  hath  attained  his  object,  groom  and  bride 

Partake  the  nuptial  bower  no  soul  can  see, 

Old  things  are  passed  and  aU  again  is  new, 

Over  and  gone  the  obstacles  to  peace, 

Novorum  —  tenderly  the  Mantuan  turns 

The  expression,  some  such  purpose  in  his  eye  — 

Nascitiwr  ordo  !     Every  storm  is  laid, 

And  forth  from  plain  each  pleasant  herb  may  peep, 

Each  bloom  of  wifehood  in  abeyance  late  : 

(Confer  a  passage  in  the  Canticles.) 

But  what  if,  as  't  is  wont  with  plant  and  wife, 

Flowers  —  after  a  suppression  to  good  end, 

StiU,  when  they  do  spring  forth  —  sprout  here,  spread  there 

Anywhere  likelier  than  beneath  the  foot 

O'  the  lawful  good-man  gardener  of  the  ground  ? 

He  dug  and  dibbled,  sowed  and  watered,  —  still 

'T  is  a  chance  wayfarer  shall  pluck  the  increase. 

Just  so,  respecting  persons  not  too  much. 

The  lady,  foes  allege,  put  forth  each  charm 

And  proper  floweret  of  feminity 

To  whosoever  had  a  nose  to  smell 

Or  breast  to  deck :  what  i£  the  charge  be  true .'' 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA  BOTTINIUS  327 

The  fault  were  graver  had  she  looked  with  choice, 
Fastidiously  appointed  who  should  grasp, 
Who,  in  the  whole  town,  go  without  the  prize ! 
To  nobody  she  destined  donative, 
But,  first  come  was  first  served,  the  accuser  saith. 
Put  case  her  sort  of  ...  in  this  kind  .  .  .  escapes 
Were  many  and  oft  and  indiscriminate  — 
Impute  ye  as  the  action  were  prepense, 
The  gift  particular,  arguing  malice  so  ? 
Which  butterfly  of  the  wide  air  shall  brag 
*'  I  was  preferred  to  Guido  "  —  when  't  is  clear 
The  cup,  he  quaffs  at,  lay  with  olent  breast 
Open  to  gnat,  midge,  bee  and  moth  as  well  ? 
One  chalice  entertained  the  company  ; 
And  if  its  peevish  lord  object  the  more. 
Mistake,  misname  such  bounty  in  a  wife. 
Haste  we  to  advertise  him  —  charm  of  cheek, 
Lustre  of  eye,  allowance  of  the  lip. 
All  womanly  components  in  a  spouse. 
These  are  no  household-bread  each  stranger's  bite 
Leaves  by  so  much  diminished  for  the  mouth 
O'  the  master  of  the  house  at  supper-time  : 
But  rather  like  a  lump  of  spice  they  lie, 
Morsel  of  myrrh,  which  scents  the  neighborhood 
Yet  greets  its  lord  no  lighter  by  a  grain. 

Nay,  even  so,  he  shall  be  satisfied ! 

Concede  we  there  was  reason  in  his  wrong, 

Grant  we  his  grievance  and  content  the  man ! 

For  lo,  Pompilia,  she  submits  herself  ; 

Ere  three  revolving  years  have  crowned  their  course, 

Off  and  away  she  puts  this  same  reproach 

Of- lavish  bounty,  inconsiderate  gift 

O'  the  sweets  of  wifehood  stored  to  other  ends : 

No  longer  shall  he  blame  "  She  none  excludes," 

But  substitute  "  She  laudably  sees  all, 

Searches  the  best  out  and  selects  the  same." 

For  who  is  here,  long  sought  and  latest  found, 

Waiting  his  turn  unmoved  amid  the  whirl, 
"  Constans  in  levitate,"  —  Ha,  my  lords  ? 

Calm  in  his  levity,  —  indulge  the  quip !  — 

Since  't  is  a  levite  bears  the  bell  away, 

Parades  him  henceforth  as  Pompilia's  choice. 

'T  is  no  ignoble  object,  husband !     Doubt'st  ? 

When  here  comes  tripping  Flaccus  with  his  phrase, 
"  Trust  me,  no  miscreant  singled  from  the  mob, 


328        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Crede  non  ilium  tibi  de  scelesta 
Flebe  deleatum,"  but  a  man  of  mark, 
A  priest,  dost  hear  ?     Why  then,  submit  thyself ! 
Priest,  ay,  and  very  phcenix  of  such  fowl, 
Well-born,  of  culture,  young  and  vigorous. 
Comely  too,  since  precise  the  precept  points  — 
On  the  selected  levite  be  there  found 
Nor  mole  nor  scar  nor  blemish,  lest  the  mind 
Come  all  uncandid  through  the  thwarting  flesh ! 
Was  not  the  son  of  Jesse  ruddy,  sleek, 
Pleasant  to  look  on,  pleasant  every  way  ? 
Since  well  he  smote  the  harp  and  sweetly  sang, 
And  danced  till  Abigail  came  out  to  see. 
And  seeing  smiled  and  smiling  ministered 
The  raisin-cluster  and  the  cake  of  figs, 
With  ready  meal  refreshed  the  gifted  youth, 
Till  Nabal,  who  was  absent  shearing  sheep. 
Felt  heart  sink,  took  to  bed  (discreetly  done  — 
They  might  have  been  beforehand  with  him  else) 
And  died  —  would  Guide  have  behaved  as  well  ? 
But  ah,  the  faith  of  early  days  is  gone, 
Heu  prisca  fides  !     Nothing  died  in  him 
Save  courtesy,  good  sense  and  proper  trust. 
Which,  when  they  ebb  from  souls  they  should  o'erflow. 
Discover  stub,  weed,  sludge  and  ugliness. 
(The  Pope,  we  know,  is  Neapolitan 
And  relishes  a  sea-side  simile.) 
Deserted  by  each  charitable  wave, 
Guido,  left  high  and  dry,  shows  jealous  now ! 
Jealous  avouched,  paraded  :  tax  the  fool 
With  any  peccadillo,  he  responds, 
"  Truly  I  beat  my  wife  through  jealousy. 
Imprisoned  her  and  punished  otherwise. 
Being  jealous  :  now  would  threaten,  sword  in  hand. 
Now  manage  to  mix  poison  in  her  sight. 
And  so  forth :  jealously  I  dealt,  in  fine." 
Concede  thus  much,  and  what  remains  to  prove  ? 
Have  I  to  teach  my  masters  what  effect 
Hath  jealousy,  and  how,  befooling  men, 
It  makes  false  true,  abuses  eye  and  ear, 
Turns  mere  mist  adamantine,  loads  with  sound 
Silence,  and  into  void  and  vacancy 
Crowds  a  whole  phalanx  of  conspiring  foes  ? 
Therefore  who  owns  "  I  watched  with  jealousy 
My  wife,"  adds  "  for  no  reason  in  the  world !  " 
What  need  that,  thus  proved  madman,  he  remark 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA  BOTTINIUS  329 

"  The  thing  I  thought  a  serpent  proved  an  eel "  ?  — 
Perchance  the  right  Comacchian,  six  foot  length, 
And  not  an  inch  too  long  for  that  rare  pie 
(Master  Arcangeli  has  heard  of  such) 
Whose  succulence  makes  fasting  bearahle  ; 
Meant  to  regale  some  moody  splenetic 
Who,  pleasing  to  mistake  the  donor's  gift, 
Spying  I  know  not  what  Lernaean  snake 
I'  the  luscious  Lenten  creature,  stamps  forsooth 
The  dainty  in  the  dust. 

Enough !     Prepare, 
Such  lunes  announced,  for  downright  lunacy ! 
Insanit  homo,  threat  succeeds  to  threat, 
And  blow  redoubles  blow,  —  his  wife,  the  block. 
But,  if  a  block,  shall  not  she  jar  the  hand 
That  bufEets  her  ?     The  injurious  idle  stone 
Rebounds  and  hits  the  head  of  him  who  flung. 
Causeless  rage  breeds,  i'  the  wife  now,  rageful  cause, 
Tyranny  wakes  rebellion  from  its  sleep. 
Rebellion,  say  I .'  —  rather,  self-defence. 
Laudable  wish  to  live  and  see  good  days. 
Pricks  our  PompUia  now  to  fly  the  fool 
By  any  means,  at  any  price,  —  nay,  more. 
Nay,  most  of  all,  i'  the  very  interest 
O'  the  fool  that,  baffled  of  his  blind  desire 
At  any  price,  were  truliest  victor  so. 
Shall  he  effect  his  crime  and  lose  his  soul  ? 
No,  dictates  duty  to  a  loving  wife  ! 
Far  better  that  the  unconsummate  blow. 
Adroitly  balked  by  her,  should  back  again. 
Correctively  admonish  his  own  pate  ! 

Crime  then,  —  the  Court  is  with  me  ?  —  she  must  crush ; 

How  crush  it  ?     By  all  efficacious  means  ; 

And  these,  —  why,  what  in  woman  should  they  be  ? 
"  With  horns  the  bull,  with  teeth  the  lion  fights  ; 

To  woman,"  quoth  the  lyrist  quoted  late, 
''  Nor  teeth,  nor  horns,  but  beauty,  Nature  gave  !  " 

Pretty  i'  the  Pagan !     WTio  dares  blame  the  use 

Of  armory  thus  allowed  for  natural,  — 

Exclaim  against  a  seeming-dubious  play 

O'the  sole  permitted  weapon,  spear  and  shield 

Alike,  resorted  to  i'  the  circumstance 

By  poor  Pompilia  ?     Grant  she  somewhat  plied 

Arts  that  allure,  the  magic  nod  and  wink, 


330  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  witchery  of  gesture,  spell  of  word, 

Whereby  the  likelier  to  enlist  this  friend, 

Yea  stranger,  as  a  champion  on  her  side  ? 

Such  man,  being  but  mere  man,  ('t  was  all  she  knew,) 

Must  be  made  sure  by  beauty's  silken  bond. 

The  weakness  that  subdues  the  strong,  and  bows 

Wisdom  alike  and  foUy.     Grant  =  the  tale 

O'  the  husband,  which  is  false,  were  proved  and  true 

To  the  letter  —  or  the  letters,  I  should  say, 

Abominations  he  professed  to  find 

And  fix  upon  Pompilia  and  the  priest,  — 

Allow  them  hers  —  for  though  she  could  not  write, 

In  early  days  of  Eve-like  innocence 

That  plucked  no  apple  from  the  knowledge-tree, 

Yet,  at  the  Serpent's  word.  Eve  plucks  and  eats 

And  knows  —  especially  how  to  read  and  write : 

And  so  Pompilia,  —  as  the  move  o'  the  maw, 

Quoth  Persius,  makes  a  parrot  bid  "  Good  day  !  " 

A  crow  salute  the  concave,  and  a  pie 

Endeavor  at  proficiency  in  speech,  — 

So  she,  through  hunger  after  fellowship, 

May  well  have  learned,  though  late,  to  play  the  scribe ! 

As  indeed,  there 's  one  letter  on  the  list 

Exphcitly  declares  did  happen  here. 

"  You  thought  my  letters  could  be  none  of  mine," 
She  tells  her  parents  —  "  mine,  who  wanted  skill ; 
But  now  I  have  the  skill,  and  write,  you  see  !  " 
She  needed  write  love-letters,  so  she  learned, 

"  Negatas  artifex  sequi  voces  "  —  though 
This  letter  nowise  'scapes  the  common  lot, 
But  lies  i'  the  condemnation  of  the  rest, 
Found  by  the  husband's  self  who  forged  them  aU. 
Yet,  for  the  sacredness  of  argument, 
For  this  once  an  exemption  shall  it  plead  — 
Anything,  anything  to  let  the  wheels 
Of  argument  run  glibly  to  their  goal ! 
Concede  she  wrote  (which  were  preposterous) 
This  and  the  other  epistle,  —  what  of  it  ? 
Where  does  the  figment  touch  her  candid  fame  ? 
Being  in  peril  of  her  life  —  "  my  life. 
Not  an  hour's  purchase,"  as  the  letter  runs,  — 
And  having  but  one  stay  in  this  extreme, 
Out  of  the  wide  world  but  a  single  friend  — 
What  could  she  other  than  resort  to  him, 
And  how  with  any  hope  resort  but  thus  ? 
Shall  modesty  dare  bid  a  stranger  brave 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA   liOlTlNlUS  831 

Danger,  disgrace,  nay  death  in  her  behalf  — 
Think  to  entice  the  sternness  of  the  steel 
Yet  spare  love's  loadstone  moving  manly  mind  ? 
—  Most  of  all,  when  such  mind  is  hampered  so 
By  growth  of  circumstance  athwart  the  life 
O'  the  natural  man,  that  decency  forbids 
He  stoop  and  take  the  common  privilege, 
Say  frank  "  I  love,"  as  all  the  vulgar  do. 
A  man  is  wedded  to  philosophy, 
Married  to  statesmanship ;  a  man  is  old ; 
A  man  is  fettered  by  the  foolishness 
He  took  for  wisdom  and  talked  ten  years  since  ; 
A  man  is,  like  our  friend  the  Canon  here, 
A  priest,  and  wicked  if  he  break  his  vow  : 
Shall  he  dare  love,  who  may  be  Pope  one  day  ? 
Despite  the  coil  of  such  encumbrance  here. 
Suppose  this  man  could  love,  unhappily, 
And  would  love,  dared  he  only  let  love  show ! 
In  case  the  woman  of  his  love,  speaks  first. 
From  what  embarrassment  she  sets  him  free  ! 
"  'T  is  I  who  break  reserve,  begin  appeal, 
Confess  that,  whether  you  love  me  or  no, 
I  love  you  !  "     What  an  ease  to  dignity, 
What  help  of  pride  from  the  hard  high-backed  chair 
Down  to  the  carpet  where  the  kittens  bask, 
All  under  the  pretence  of  gratitude ! 

From  aU  which,  I  deduce  —  the  lady  here 

Was  bound  to  proffer  nothing  short  of  love 

To  the  priest  whose  service  was  to  save  her.     What  ? 

Shall  she  propose  him  lucre,  dust  o'  the  mine, 

Rubbish  o'  the  rock,  some  diamond,  muckviforms  prize; 

Some  pearl  secreted  by  a  sickly  fish  ? 

Scarcely !     She  caters  for  a  generous  taste. 

'T  is  love  shall  beckon,  beauty  bid  to  breast. 

Till  all  the  Samson  sink  into  the  snare  ! 

Because,  permit  the  end  —  permit  therewith 

Means  to  the  end  ! 

How  say  you,  good  my  lords  ? 
I  hope  you  heard  my  adversary  ring 
The  changes  on  this  precept :  now,  let  me 
Reverse  the  peal !     Quia  dato  licito  fine, 
Ad  ilium  assequendum  ordinata 
Non  sunt  damnanda  media,  —  licit  end 
Enough  was  found  in  mere  escape  frjm  death, 
To  legalize  our  means  illicit  else 


332  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Of  feigned  love,  false  allurement,  fancied  fact. 

Thus  Venus  losing  Cupid  on  a  day, 

(See  that  Idyllium  Moschi)  seeking  help, 

In  the  anxiety  of  motherhood, 

Allowably  promised,  "  Who  shall  bring  report 

Where  he  is  wandered  to,  my  winged  babe, 

I  give  him  for  reward  a  nectared  kiss ; 

But  who  brings  safely  back  the  truant's  self. 

His  be  a  super-sweet  makes  kiss  seem  cold  !  " 

Are  not  these  things  writ  for  example-sake  ? 

To  such  permitted  motive,  then,  refer 

All  those  professions,  else  were  hard  explain. 

Of  hope,  fear,  jealousy,  and  the  rest  of  love  ! 

He  is  Myrtillus,  Amaryllis  she, 

She  burns,  he  freezes,  —  all  a  mere  device 

To  catch  and  keep  the  man,  may  save  her  life, 

Whom  otherwise  nor  catches  she  nor  keeps  ! 

Worst,  once,  turns  best  now :  in  all  faith,  she  feigns  : 

Feigning,  —  the  liker  innocence  to  guilt, 

The  truer  to  the  life  in  what  she  feigns ! 

How  if  Ulysses,  —  when,  for  public  good 

He  sunk  particular  qualms  and  played  the  spy, 

Entered  Troy's  hostUe  gate  in  beggar's  garb  — 

How  if  he  first  had  boggled  at  this  clout. 

Grown  dainty  o'er  that  clack-dish  ?     Grime  is  grace 

To  whoso  gropes  amid  the  dung  for  gold. 

Hence,  beyond  promises,  we  praise  each  proof 
That  promise  was  not  simply  made  to  break. 
Mere  moonshine-structure  meant  to  fade  at  dawn : 
We  praise,  as  consequent  and  requisite, 
What,  enemies  allege,  were  more  than  words. 
Deeds  —  meetings  at  the  window,  twilight-trysts, 
Nocturnal  entertainments  in  the  dim 
Old  labyrinthine  palace  ;  lies,  we  know  — 
Inventions  we,  long  since,  turned  inside  out. 
Must  such  external  semblance  of  intrigue 
Demonstrate  that  intrigue  there  lurks  perdue  ? 
Does  every  hazel-sheath  disclose  a  nut  ? 
He  were  a  Molinist  who  dared  maintain 
That  midnight  meetings  in  a  screened  alcove 
Must  argue  f oUy  in  a  matron  —  since 
So  would  he  bring  a  slur  on  Judith's  self, 
Commended  beyond  women,  that  she  lured 
The  lustful  to  destruction  through  his  lust. 


JOHANNES-BAPTIST  A   BOTTINIUS  333 

Pompilia  took  not  Judith's  liberty, 

No  falchion  find  you  in  her  hand  to  smite, 

No  damsel  to  convey  in  dish  the  head 

Of  Holofernes,  —  style  the  Canon  so  — 

Or  is  it  the  Count  ?     If  I  entangle  me 

With  my  similitudes,  —  it  wax  wings  melt. 

And  earthward  down  I  drop,  not  mine  the  fault : 

Blame  your  beneficence,  O  Court,  0  sun, 

Whereof  the  beamy  smile  affects  my  flight ! 

What  matter,  so  Pompilia's  fame  revive 

I'  the  warmth  that  proves  the  bane  of  Icarus  ? 

Tea,  we  have  shown  it  lawful,  necessary 
Pompilia  leave  her  husband,  seek  the  house 
O'  the  parents :  and  because  'twist  home  and  home 
Lies  a  long  road  with  many  a  danger  rife, 
Lions  by  the  way  and  serpents  in  the  path. 
To  rob  and  ravish,  —  much  behoves  she  keep 
Each  shadow  of  suspicion  from  fair  fame. 
For  her  own  sake  much,  but  for  his  sake  more, 
The  ingrate  husband's.   Evidence  shall  be. 
Plain  witness  to  the  world  how  white  she  walks 
I'  the  mire  she  wanders  through  ere  Rome  she  reach. 
And  who  so  proper  witness  as  a  priest  ? 
Gainsay  ye  ?     Let  me  hear  who  dares  gainsay ! 
I  hope  we  stiU  can  punish  heretics  ! 
"  Give  me  the  man,"  I  say  with  him  of  Gath, 
"  That  we  may  fight  together !  "     None,  I  think : 
The  priest  is  granted  me. 

Then,  if  a  priest, 
One  juvenile  and  potent :  else,  mayhap, 
That  dragon,  our  Saint  George  would  slay,  slays  him. 
And  should  fair  face  accompany  strong  hand, 
The  more  complete  equipment :  nothing  mars 
Work,  else  praiseworthy,  like  a  bodily  flaw 
I'  the  worker  :  as  't  is  said  Saint  Paul  himself 
Deplored  the  check  o'  the  puny  presence,  still 
Cheating  his  fulmination  of  its  flash. 
Albeit  the  bolt  therein  went  true  to  oak. 
Therefore  the  agent,  as  prescribed,  she  takes,  — 
Both  juvenile  and  potent,  handsome  too,  — 
In  all  obedience :  "  good,"  you  grant  again. 
Do  you  ?     I  would  you  were  the  husband,  lords ! 
How  prompt  and  facile  might  departure  be  ! 
How  boldly  would  Pompilia  and  the  priest 
March  out  of  door,  spread  flag  at  beat  of  drum, 


884  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

But  that  inapprehensive  Guido  grants 

Neither  premiss  nor  yet  conclusion  here, 

And,  purblind,  dreads  a  bear  in  every  bush ! 

For  his  own  quietude  and  comfort,  then. 

Means  must  be  found  for  flight  in  masquerade 

At  hour  when  all  things  sleep  —  "  Save  jealousy !  * 

Right,  Judges !     Therefore  shall  the  lady's  wit 

Supply  the  boon  thwart  nature  balks  him  of. 

And  do  him  service  with  the  potent  drug 

(Helen's  nepenthe,  as  my  lords  opine) 

Which  respites  blessedly  each  fretted  nerve 

O'  the  much-enduring  man :  accordingly. 

There  lies  he,  duly  dosed  and  sound  asleep, 

Relieved  of  woes  or  real  or  raved  about. 

While  soft  she  leaves  his  side,  he  shall  not  wake  ; 

Nor  stop  who  steals  away  to  join  her  friend, 

Nor  do  him  mischief  should  he  catch  that  friend 

Intent  on  more  than  friendly  office,  -^nay. 

Nor  get  himself  raw  head  and  bones  laid  bare 

In  payment  of  his  apparition  ! 

Thus 
Would  I  defend  the  step,  —  were  the  thing  true 
Which  is  a  fable,  —  see  my  former  speech,  — 
That  Guido  slept  (who  never  slept  a  wink) 
Through  treachery,  an  opiate  from  his  wife, 
Who  not  so  much  as  knew  what  opiates  mean. 

Now  she  may  start :  or  hist,  —  a  stoppage  stni ! 

A  journey  is  an  enterprise  of  cost ! 

As  in  campaigns,  we  light  but  others  pay, 

Suis  expensis,  iismo  militat. 

'T  is  Guide's  seK  we  guard  from  accident, 

Ensuring  safety  to  Pompilia,  versed 

Nowise  in  misadventures  by  the  way. 

Hard  riding  and  rough  quarters,  the  rude  fare, 

The  unready  host.     What  magic  mitigates 

Each  plague  of  travel  to  the  unpractised  wife  ? 

Money,  sweet  Sirs  !     And  were  the  fiction  fact, 

She  helped  herself  thereto  with  liberal  hand 

From  out  her  husband's  store,  —  what  fitter  use 

Was  ever  husband's  money  destined  to  ? 

With  bag  and  baggage  thus  did  Dido  once 

Decamp,  —  for  more  authority,  a  queen  ! 

So  is  she  fairly  on  her  route  at  last, 
Prepared  for  either  fortune  :  nay  and  if 


JOHANN'ES-BAPTISTA  BOTTINIUS  835 

The  priest,  now  all  aglow  with  enterprise, 
Cool  somewhat  presently  when  fades  the  flush 
O'  the  first  adventure,  clouded  o'er  helike 
By  doubts,  misgivings  how  the  day  may  die, 
Though  born  with  such  auroral  brilliance,  —  if 
The  brow  seem  over-pensive  and  the  lip 
'Gin  lag  and  lose  the  prattle  lightsome  late,  — 
Vanquished  by  tedium  of  a  prolonged  jaunt 
In  a  close  carriage  o'er  a  jolting  road. 
With  only  one  young  female  substitute 
For  seventeen  other  Canons  of  ripe  age 
Were  wont  to  keep  him  company  in  church,  — 
Shall  not  Pompilia  haste  to  dissipate 
The  silent  cloud  that,  gathering,  bodes  her  bale  ?  — 
Prop  the  irresoluteness  may  portend 
Suspension  of  the  project,  check  the  flight. 
Bring  ruin  on  them  both  ?     Use  every  means, 
Since  means  to  the  end  are  lawful !     What  i'  the  way 
Of  wile  should  have  allowance  like  a  kiss 
Sagely  and  sisterly  administered, 
Sororia  saltern  oscula  ?     We  find 
Such  was  the  remedy  her  wit  applied 
To  each  incipient  scruple  of  the  priest. 
If  we  believe,  —  as,  while  my  wit  is  mine 
I  cannot,  —  what  the  driver  testifies, 
Borsi,  called  Venerino,  the  mere  tool 
Of  Guido  and  his  friend  the  Governor,  — 
Avowal  I  proved  vrrung  from  out  the  wretch. 
After  long  rotting  in  imprisonment. 
As  price  of  liberty  and  favor  :  long 
They  tempted,  he  at  last  succumbed,  and  lo 
Counted  them  out  full  tale  each  kiss  and  more, 
"  The  journey  being  one  long  embrace,"  quoth  he. 
Still,  though  we  should  believe  the  driver's  lie, 
Nor  even  admit  as  probable  excuse. 
Right  reading  of  the  riddle,  —  as  I  urged 
In  my  first  argument,  with  fruit  perhaps  — 
That  what  the  owl-like  eyes  (at  back  of  head !) 
O'  the  driver,  drowsed  by  driving  night  and  day, 
Supposed  a  vulgar  interchange  of  lips. 
This  was  but  innocent  jog  of  head  'gainst  head, 
Cheek  meeting  jowl  as  apple  may  touch  pear 
From  branch  and  branch  contiguous  in  the  wind. 
When  Autumn  blusters  and  the  orchard  rocks :  -^ 
That  rapid  run  and  the  rough  road  were  cause 
O'  the  casual  ambiguity,  no  harm 


336        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

I'  the  world  to  eyes  awake  and  penetrative  :  — 
Say,  —  not  to  grasp  a  truth  I  can  release 
And  safely  fight  without,  yet  conquer  still,  — 
Say,  she  Mssed  him,  say,  he  kissed  her  again ! 
Such  osculation  was  a  potent  means, 
A  very  efficacious  help,  no  doubt : 
Such  with  a  third  part  of  her  nectar  did 
Venus  imbue :  why  should  Pompilia  fling 
The  poet's  declaration  in  his  teeth  ?  — 
Pause  to  employ  what,  —  since  it  had  success, 
And  kept  the  priest  her  servant  to  the  end,  — 
We  must  presume  of  energy  enough. 
No  whit  superfluous,  so  permissible  ? 

The  goal  is  gained  :  day,  night,  and  yet  a  day 

Have  run  their  round :  a  long  and  devious  road 

Is  traversed,  —  maiiy  manners,  various  men 

Passed  in  review,  what  cities  did  they  see, 

What  hamlets  mark,  what  profitable  food 

For  after-meditation  cuU  and  store ! 

Till  Rome,  that  Rome  whereof  —  this  voice 

Would  it  might  make  our  MoUnists  observe, 

That  she  is  built  upon  a  rock  nor  shall 

Their  powers  prevail  against  her !  —  Rome,  I  say. 

Is  all  but  reached  ;  one  stage  more  and  they  stop 

Saved  :  pluck  up  heart,  ye  pair,  and  forward,  then ! 

Ah,  Nature  —  baffled  she  recurs,  alas  ! 
Nature  imperiously  exacts  her  due. 
Spirit  is  willing  but  the  flesh  is  weak : 
Pompilia  needs  must  acquiesce  and  swoon, 
Give  hopes  alike  and  fears  a  breathing-while. 
The  innocent  sleep  soundly :  sound  she  sleeps, 
So  let  her  slumber,  then,  unguarded  save 
By  her  own  chastity,  a  triple  mail, 
And  his  good  hand  whose  stalwart  arms  have  borne 
The  sweet  and  senseless  burden  Kke  a  babe 
From  coach  to  couch,  —  the  serviceable  strength ! 
Nay,  what  and  if  he  gazed  rewardedly 
On  the  pale  beauty  prisoned  in  embrace. 
Stooped  over,  stole  a  balmy  breath  perhaps 
For  more  assurance  sleep  was  not  decease  — 
"  Ut  vidi,"  "  how  I  saw !  "  succeeded  by 
"  Ut  peril,"  "  how  I  sudden  lost  my  brains  !  " 
—  What  harm  ensued  to  her  unconscious  quite  ? 
For,  curiosity  —  how  natural ! 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA   BOTTINIUS  337 

Importunateness  —  what  a  privilege 

In  the  ardent  sex  !     And  why  curb  ardor  here  ? 

How  can  the  priest  but  pity  whom  he  saved  ? 

And  pity  is  so  near  to  love,  and  love 

So  neighborly  to  all  unreasonableness  ! 

As  to  love's  object,  whether  love  were  sage 

Or  foolish,  could  PompUia  know  or  care, 

Being  stiU  sound  asleep,  as  I  premised  ? 

Thus  the  philosopher  absorbed  by  thought, 

Even  Archimedes,  busy  o'er  a  book 

The  while  besiegers  sacked  his  Syracuse, 

Was  ignorant  of  the  imminence  o'  the  point 

O'  the  sword  tiU  it  surprised  him  :  let  it  stab, 

And  never  knew  himself  was  dead  at  all. 

So  sleep  thou  on,  secure  whate'er  betide ! 

For  thou,  too,  hast  thy  problem  hard  to  solve  — 

How  so  much  beauty  is  compatible 

With  so  much  innocence  ! 

Fit  place,  methinks, 
While  in  this  task  she  rosily  is  lost. 
To  treat  of  and  repel  objection  here 
Which,  —  frivolous,  I  grant,  —  my  mind  misgives, 
May  somehow  still  have  flitted,  gadfly-like. 
And  teased  the  Court  at  times  —  as  if,  aU  said 
And  done,  there  seemed,  the  Court  might  nearly  say, 
In  a  certain  acceptation,  somewhat  more 
Of  what  may  pass  for  insincerity. 
Falsehood,  throughout  the  course  Pompilia  took. 
Than  befits  Christian.     Pagans  held,  we  know, 
Man  always  ought  to  aim  at  good  and  truth. 
Not  always  put  one  thing  in  the  same  words : 
Non  ideTn,  semper  dioere  sed  speotare 
Dehemus.     But  the  Pagan  yoke  was  light ; 
'  Lie  not  at  all,"  the  exacter  precept  bids  : 
Each  least  lie  breaks  the  law,  —  is  sin,  we  hold. 
I  humble  me,  but  venture  to  submit  — 
What  prevents  sin,  itself  is  sinless,  sure : 
And  sin,  which  hinders  sin  of  deeper  dye. 
Softens  itself  away  by  contrast  so. 
Conceive  me !     Little  sin,  by  none  at  aU, 
Were  properly  condemned  for  great :  but  great, 
By  greater,  dwindles  into  small  again. 
Now,  what  is  greatest  sin  of  womanhood  ? 
That  which  unwomans  it,  abolishes 
The  nature  of  the  woman,  —  impudence. 


338  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Who  contradicts  me  here  ?     Concede  me,  then, 

Whatever  friendly  fault  may  interpose 

To  save  the  sex  from  self-abolishment 

Is  three-parts  on  the  way  to  virtue's  rank ! 

And,  what  is  taxed  here  as  duplicity. 

Feint,  wile,  and  trick,  —  admitted  for  the  nonce,  — 

What  worse  do  one  and  all  than  interpose. 

Hold,  as  it  were,  a  deprecating  hand, 

Statuesquely,  in  the  Medicean  mode, 

Before  some  shame  which  modesty  would  veil  ? 

Who  blames  the  gesture  prettily  perverse  ? 

Thus, — lest  ye  miss  a  point  illustrative,  — 

Admit  the  husband's  calumny  —  allow 

That  the  wife,  having  penned  the  epistle  fraught 

With  horrors,  charge  on  charge  of  crime  she  heaped 

O'  the  head  of  Pietro  and  Violante  —  (still 

Presumed  her  parents)  —  having  dispatched  the  same 

To  their  arch-enemy  Paolo,  through  free  choice 

And  no  sort  of  compulsion  in  the  world  — 

Put  case  she  next  discards  simplicity 

For  craft,  denies  the  voluntary  act. 

Declares  herself  a  passive  instrument 

I'  the  husband's  hands ;  that,  duped  by  knavery, 

She  traced  the  characters  she  could  not  write, 

And  took  on  trust  the  unread  sense  which,  read, 

And  recognized  were  to  be  spurned  at  once  : 

AUow  this  calumny,  I  reiterate ! 

Who  is  so  dull  as  wonder  at  the  pose 

Of  our  Pompilia  in  the  circumstance  ? 

Who  sees  not  that  the  too-ingenuous  soul, 

Repugnant  even  at  a  duty  done 

Which  brought  beneath  too  scrutinizing  glare 

The  misdemeanors,  —  buried  in  the  dark,  — 

Of  the  authors  of  her  being,  as  believed,  — 

Stung  to  the  quick  at  her  impulsive  deed, 

And  willing  to  repair  what  harm  it  worked. 

She  —  wise  in  this  beyond  what  Nero  proved, 

Who,  when  folk  urged  the  candid  juvenile 

To  sign  the  warrant,  doom  the  guilty  dead, 

"  Would  I  had  never  learned  to  write  !  "  quoth  he  ! 
—  Pompilia  rose  above  the  Roman,  cried, 

"  To  read  or  write  I  never  learned  at  all !  " 
O  splendidly  mendacious ! 

But  time  fleets : 
Let  us  not  linger  :  hurry  to  the  end, 


JOHANN ES-BAPTISTA   BOTTINIUS  339 

Since  flight  does  end  and  that,  disastrously. 

Beware  ye  blame  desert  for  unsuccess, 

Disparage  each  expedient  else  to  praise, 

Call  failure  folly !     Man's  best  effort  fails. 

After  ten  years'  resistance  Troy  succumbed  : 

Could  valor  save  a  town,  Troy  still  had  stood. 

Pompilia  came  off  halting  in  no  point 

Of  courage,  conduct,  her  long  joui-ney  through : 

But  nature  sank  exhausted  at  the  close. 

And,  as  I  said,  she  swooned  and  slept  all  night. 

Morn  breaks  and  brings  the  husband  :  we  assist 

At  the  spectacle.     Discovery  succeeds. 

Ha,  how  is  this  ?     What  moonstruck  rage  is  here  ? 

Though  we  confess  to  partial  frailty  now, 

To  error  in  a  woman  and  a  wife. 

Is 't  by  the  rough  way  she  shall  be  reclaimed  ? 

Who  bursts  upon  her  chambered  privacy  ? 

What  crowd  profanes  the  chaste  cubiculum,  ? 

What  outcries  and  lewd  laughter,  scurril  gibe 

And  ribald  jest  to  scare  the  ministrant 

Good  angels  that  commerce  with  souls  in  sleep  ? 

Why,  had  the  worst  crowned  Guide  to  his  wish, 

Confirmed  his  most  irrational  surmise. 

Yet  there  be  bounds  to  man's  emotion,  checks 

To  an  immoderate  astonishment. 

'T  is  decent  horror,  regulated  wrath. 

Befit  our  dispensation  :  have  we  back 

The  old  Pagan  license  ?     Shall  a  Vulcan  clap 

His  net  o'  the  sudden  and  expose  the  pair 

To  the  unquenchable  universal  mirth  ? 

A  feat,  antiquity  saw  scandal  in 

So  clearly,  that  the  nauseous  tale  thereof  — 

Demodocus  his  nugatory  song  — 

Hath  ever  been  concluded  modern  stuff 

Impossible  to  the  mouth  of  the  grave  Muse, 

So,  foisted  into  that  Eighth  Odyssey 

By  some  impertinent  pickthank.     0  thou  fool, 

Count  Guido  Franceschini,  what  didst  gain 

By  publishing  thy  secret  to  the  world  ? 

Were  aU  the  precepts  of  the  wise  a  waste  — 

Bred  in  thee  not  one  touch  of  reverence  ? 

Admit  thy  wife  —  admonish  we  the  fool  — 

Were  falseness'  self,  why  chronicle  thy  shame  ? 

Much  rather  should  thy  teeth  bite  out  thy  tongue, 

Dumb  lip  consort  with  desecrated  brow. 

Silence  become  historiographer, 


340        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  thou  —  thine  own  Cornelius  Tacitus ! 

But  virtue,  barred,  still  leaps  the  barrier,  lords  ! 

—  Still,  moon-like,  penetrates  the  encroaching  mist 

And  bursts,  aU  broad  and  bare,  on  night,  ye  know! 

Surprised,  then,  in  the  garb  of  truth,  perhaps, 

PompiUa,  thus  opposed,  breaks  obstacle. 

Springs  to  her  feet,  and  stands  Thalassian-pure, 

Confronts  the  foe,  —  nay,  catches  at  his  sword 

And  tries  to  kill  the  intruder,  he  complains. 

Why,  so  she  gave  her  lord  his  lesson  back, 

Crowned  him,  this  time,  the  virtuous  woman's  way, 

With  an  exact  obedience  ;  he  brought  sword. 

She  drew  the  same,  since  swords  are  meant  to  draw. 

Tell  not  me  't  is  sharp  play  with  tools  on  edge ! 

It  was  the  husband  chose  the  weapon  here. 

Why  did  not  he  inaugurate  the  game 

With  some  gentility  of  apophthegm 

Still  pregnant  on  the  philosophic  page. 

Some  captivating  cadence  stUl  a-lisp 

O'  the  poet's  lyre  ?     Such  spells  subdue  the  surge, 

Make  tame  the  tempest,  much  more  mitigate 

The  passions  of  the  mind,  and  probably 

Had  moved  PompUia  to  a  smiling  blush. 

No,  he  must  needs  prefer  the  argument 

O'  the  blow  :  and  she  obeyed,  in  duty  bound, 

Returned  him  buffet  ratiocinative  — 

Ay,  in  the  reasoner's  own  interest. 

For  wife  must  follow  whither  husband  leads, 

Vindicate  honor  as  himself  prescribes. 

Save  him  the  very  way  himself  bids  save  ! 

No  question  but  who  jumps  into  a  quag 

Should  stretch  forth  hand  and  pray  us  "  Pull  me  out 

By  the  hand !  "  such  were  the  customary  cry  : 

But  Guido  pleased  to  bid  "  Leave  hand  alone  ! 

Join  both  feet,  rather,  jump  upon  my  head : 

I  extricate  myself  by  the  rebound  !  " 

And  dutifully  as  enjoined  she  jumped  — 

Drew  his  own  sword  and  menaced  his  own  life, 

Anything  to  content  a  wilful  spouse. 

And  so  he  was  contented  —  one  must  do 

Justice  to  the  expedient  which  succeeds. 

Strange  as  it  seem :  at  flourish  of  the  blade, 

The  crowd  drew  back,  stood  breathless  and  abashed, 

Then  murmured,  "  This  should  be  no  wanton  wife. 

No  conscience-stricken  sinner,  caught  i'  the  act, 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA  BOTTINIUS  341 

And  patiently  awaiting  our  first  stone  : 
But  a  poor  hard-pressed  all-bewildered  thing, 
Has  rushed  so  far,  misguidedly  perhaps, 
Meaning  no  more  harm  than  a  frightened  sheep. 
She  sought  for  aid  ;  and  if  she  made  mistake 
I'  the  man  could  aid  most,  why  —  so  mortals  do : 
Even  the  blessed  Magdalen  mistook 
Far  less  forgivably  :  consult  the  place  — 
Supposing  him  to  be  the  gardener, 
*  Sir,'  said  she,  and  so  following."     Why  more  words  ? 
Forthwith  the  wife  is  pronounced  innocent : 
What  would  the  husband  more  than  gain  his  cause, 
And  find  that  honor  flash  in  the  world's  eye. 
His  apprehension  was  lest  soil  had  smirched  ? 

So,  happily  the  adventure  comes  to  close 

Whereon  my  fat  opponent  grounds  his  charge 

Preposterous  :  at  mid-day  he  groans  "  How  dark  !  " 

Listen  to  me,  thou  Archangelic  swine  ! 

Where  is  the  ambiguity  to  blame, 

The  flaw  to  find  in  our  Pompilia  ?     Safe 

She  stands,  see !     Does  thy  comment  follow  quick, 
"  Safe,  inasmuch  as  at  the  end  proposed  ; 

But  thither  she  picked  way  by  devious  path  — 

Stands  dirtied,  no  dubiety  at  all ! 

I  recognize  success,  yet,  all  the  same, 

Importunately  wiU  suggestion  prompt  — 

Better  Pompilia  gained  the  right  to  boast, 
'  No  devious  path,  no  doubtful  patch  was  mine, 

I  saved  my  head  nor  sacrificed  my  foot ! ' 

Why,  being  in  a  perU,  show  mistrust 

Of  tiie  angels  set  to  guard  the  innocent  ? 

Why  rather  hold  by  obvious  vulgar  help 

Of  stratagem  and  subterfuge,  excused 

Somewhat,  but  still  no  less  a  foil,  a  fault, 

Since  low  with  high,  and  good  with  bad  is  Unked  ? 

Methinks  I  view  some  ancient  bas-relief. 

There  stands  Hesione  thrust  out  by  Troy, 

Her  father's  hand  has  chained  her  to  a  crag. 

Her  mother's  from  the  virgin  plucked  the  vest, 

At  a  safe  distance  both  distressful  watch, 

While  near  and  nearer  comes  the  snorting  ore. 

I  look  that,  white  and  perfect  to  the  end, 

She  wait  tiU  Jove  dispatch  some  demigod ; 

Not  that,  —  impatient  of  celestial  club 

Alcmena's  son  sjiould  brandish  at  the  beast,  — 


3.42  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

She  daub,  disguise  her  dainty  limbs  with,  pitch, 
And  so  elude  the  purblind  monster !     Ay, 
The  trick  succeeds,  but 't  is  an  ugly  trick, 
Where  needs  have  been  no  trick  !  " 

My  answer  ?     Faugh ' 
Nimis  incongrue  !     Too  absurdly  put ! 
Sententiam  ego  teneo  contrariam, 
Trick,  I  maintain,  had  no  alternative. 
The  heavens  were  bound  with  brass,  —  Jove  far  at  feast 
(No  feast  like  that  thou  didst  not  ask  me  to, 
ArcangeU,  —  I  heard  of  thy  regale !) 
With  the  unblamed  ^thiop,  —  Hercules  spun  wool 
I'  the  lap  of  Omphale,  while  Virtue  shrieked  — 
The  brute  came  paddling  aU  the  faster.     You 
Of  Troy,  who  stood  at  distance,  where  's  the  aid 
You  offered  in  the  extremity  ?     Most  and  least. 
Gentle  and  simple,  here  the  Governor, 
There  the  Archbishop,  everywhere  the  friends, 
Shook  heads  and  waited  for  a  miracle. 
Or  went  their  way,  left  Virtue  to  her  fate. 
Just  this  one  rough  and  ready  man  leapt  forth ! 
—  Was  found,  sole  anti-Fabius  (dare  I  say) 
Who  restored  things,  with  no  delay  at  all. 
Qui  haud  cunotando  rem  restituit  I     He, 
He  only,  Caponsacchi  'mid  a  crowd, 
Caught  Virtue  up,  carried  PompUia  off 
Through  gaping  impotence  of  sympathy 
In  ranged  Arezzo  :  what  you  take  for  pitch. 
Is  nothing  worse,  belike,  than  black  and  blue. 
Mere  evanescent  proof  that  hardy  hands 
Did  yeoman's  service,  cared  not  where  the  gripe 
Was  more  than  duly  energetic  :  bruised, 
She  smarts  a  little,  but  her  bones  are  saved 
A  fracture,  and  her  skin  will  soon  show  sleek. 
How  it  disgusts  when  weakness,  false-refined. 
Censures  the  honest  rude  effective  strength,  — 
When  sickly  dreamers  of  the  impossible 
Decry  plain  sturdiness  which  does  the  feat 
With  eyes  wide  open  ! 

Did  occasion  serve, 
I  could  illustrate,  if  my  lords  allow  ; 
Quid  vetat,  what  forbids  I  aptly  ask 
With  Horace,  that  I  give  my  anger  vent. 
While  I  let  breathe,  no  less,  and  recreate. 
The  gravity  of  my  Judges,  by  a  tale  ? 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA  BOTTINIUS  343 

A  case  in  point  —  what  though  an  apologue 

Graced  by  tradition  ?  —  possibly  a  fact : 

Tradition  must  precede  all  scripture,  words 

Serve  as  our  warrant  ere  our  books  can  be  : 

So,  to  tradition  back  we  needs  must  go 

For  any  fact's  authority :  and  this 

Hath  lived  so  far  (like  jewel  hid  in  muck) 

On  page  of  that  old  lying  vanity 

Called  "  Sepher  Toldoth  Yeschu : "  God  be  praised, 

I  read  no  Hebrew,  —  take  the  thing  on  trust : 

But  I  believe  the  writer  meant  no  good 

(Blind  as  he  was  to  truth  in  some  respects) 

To  our  pestiferous  and  schismatic  .  .  .  well, 

My  lords'  conjecture  be  the  touchstone,  show 

The  thing  for  what  it  is !     The  author  lacks 

Discretion,  and  his  zeal  exceeds  :  but  zeal,  — 

How  rare  in  our  degenerate  day  !     Enough ! 

Here  is  the  story  :  fear  not,  I  shall  chop 

And  change  a  little,  else  my  Jew  would  press 

AU  too  unmannerly  before  the  Court. 

It  happened  once,  —  begins  this  foolish  Jew, 

Pretending  to  write  Christian  history,  — 

That  three,  held  greatest,  best  and  worst  of  men, 

Peter  and  John  and  Judas,  spent  a  day 

In  toil  and  travel  through  the  country-side 

On  some  sufficient  business  —  I  suspect. 

Suppression  of  some  Molinism  i'  the  bud. 

Foot-sore  and  hungry,  dropping  with  fatigue, 

They  reached  by  nightfall  a  poor  lonely  grange, 

Hostel  or  inn  :  so,  knocked  and  entered  there. 
"  Tour  pleasure,  great  ones  ?  "  — "  Shelter,  rest  and  food !  " 

For  shelter,  there  was  one  bare  room  above  ; 

For  rest  therein,  three  beds  of  bundled  straw : 

For  food,  one  wretched  starveling  fowl,  no  more  — 

Meat  for  one  mouth,  but  mockery  for  three. 
"  You  have  my  utmost."     How  should  supper  serve  ? 

Peter  broke  silence :  "  To  the  spit  with  fowl ! 

And  while  't  is  cooking,  sleep !  —  since  beds  there  be, 

And,  so  far,  satisfaction  of  a  want. 

Sleep  we  an  hour,  awake  at  supper-time. 

Then  each  of  us  narrate  the  dream  he  had. 

And  he  whose  dream  shall  prove  the  happiest,  point 

The  clearliest  out  the  dreamer  as  ordained 

Beyond  his  fellows  to  receive  the  fowl. 

Him  let  our  shares  be  cheerful  tribute  to. 


344  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

His  the  entire  meal,  may  it  do  him  good  !  " 

Who  could  dispute  so  plain  a  consequence  ? 

So  said,  so  done  :  each  hurried  to  his  straw, 

Slept  his  hour's-sleep  and  dreamed  his  dream,  and  woke. 

"  I,"  commenced  John,  "  dreamed  that  I  gained  the  prize 
We  all  aspire  to  :  the  proud  place  was  mine, 
Throughout  the  earth  and  to  the  end  of  time 
I  was  the  Loved  Disciple :  mine  the  meal !  " 

"  But  I,"  proceeded  Peter,  "  dreamed,  a  word 
Gave  me  the  headship  of  our  company, 
Made  me  the  Vicar  and  Vice-gerent,  gave 
The  keys  of  heaven  and  hell  into  my  hand. 
And  o'er  the  earth,  dominion :  mine  the  meal !  " 

"  While  I,"  submitted  in  soft  under-tone 
The  Iscariot  —  sense  of  his  unworthiness 
Turning  each  eye  up  to  the  inmost  white  — 
With  long-drawn  sigh,  yet  letting  both  lips  smack, 

"  I  have  had  just  the  pitif  ullest  dream 
That  ever  proved  man  meanest  of  his  mates. 
And  born  foot-washer  and  foot-wiper,  nay 
Foot-kisser  to  each  comrade  of  you  all ! 
I  dreamed  I  dreamed ;  and  in  that  mimic  dream 
(Impalpable  to  dream  as  dream  to  fact) 
Methought  I  meanly  chose  to  sleep  no  wink 
But  wait  until  I  heard  my  brethren  snore  ; 
Then  stole  from  couch,  slipped  noiseless  o'er  the  planks, 
Slid  downstairs,  furtively  approached  the  hearth, 
Found  the  fowl  duly  brown,  both  back  and  breast. 
Hissing  in  harmony  with  the  cricket's  chirp, 
Grilled  to  a  point ;  said  no  grace  but  fell  to, 
Nor  finished  till  the  skeleton  lay  bare. 
In  penitence  for  which  ignoble  dream, 
Lo,  I  renounce  my  portion  cheerfully ! 
Fie  on  the  flesh  —  be  mine  the  ethereal  gust, 
And  yours  the  sublunary  sustenance  ! 
See  that  whate'er  be  left  ye  give  the  poor !  " 
Down  the  two  scuttled,  one  on  other's  heel, 
Stung  by  a  fell  surmise ;  and  found,  alack, 
A  goodly  savor,  both  the  drumstick  bones, 
And  that  which  henceforth  took  the  appropriate  name 
O'  the  Merry-thought,  in  memory  of  the  fact 
That  to  keep  wide  awake  is  man's  best  dream. 

So,  —  as  was  said  once  of  Thucydides 

And  his  sole  joke,  "The  lion,  lo,  hath  laughed !  "  — 

Just  so,  the  Governor  and  all  that 's  great 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA   BOTTINIUS  345 

r  the  city,  never  meant  that  Innocence 
Should  quite  starve  while  Authority  sat  at  meat ; 
They  meant  to  fling  a  bone  at  banquet's  end  : 
Wished  well  to  our  Pompilia  —  in  their  dreams, 
Nor  bore  the  secular  sword  in  vain  —  asleep. 
Just  so  the  Archbishop  and  all  good  like  him 
Went  to  bed  meaning  to  pour  oil  and  wine 
I'  the  wounds  of  her,  next  day,  —  but  long  ere  day, 
They  had  burned  the  one  and  drunk  the  other,  while 
Just  so,  again,  contrariwise,  the  priest  / 

Sustained  poor  Nature  in  extremity 
By  stuffing  barley-bread  into  her  mouth, 
Saving  Pompilia  (grant  the  parallel) 
By  the  plain  homely  and  straightforward  way 
Taught  him  by  common  sense.     Let  others  shriek 
'  Oh  what  refined  expedients  did  we  dream 
Proved  us  the  only  fit  to  help  the  fair !  " 
He  cried,  "  A  carriage  waits,  jump  in  with  me ! " 

And  now,  this  application  pardoned,  lords,  — 

This  recreative  pause  and  breathing-whUe,  — 

Back  to  beseemiugness  and  gravity  ! 

For  Law  steps  in  :  Guido  appeals  to  Law, 

Demands  she  arbitrate,  —  does  well  for  once. 

O  Law,  of  thee  how  neatly  was  it  said 

By  that  old  Sophocles,  thou  hast  thy  seat 

I'  the  very  breast  of  Jove,  no  meanUer  throned ! 

Here  is  a  piece  of  work  now,  hitherto 

Begun  and  carried  on,  concluded  near, 

Without  an  eye-glance  cast  thy  sceptre's  way  ; 

And,  lo,  the  stumbling  and  discomfiture  ! 

Well  may  you  caU  them  "  lawless  "  means,  men  take 

To  extricate  themselves  through  mother-wit 

When  tangled  haply  in  the  toils  of  life  ! 

Guido  would  try  conclusions  with  his  foe, 

Whoe'er  the  foe  was  and  whate'er  the  ofEence  ; 

He  would  recover  certain  dowry-dues  : 

Instead  of  asking  Law  to  lend  a  hand. 

What  pother  of  sword  drawn  and  pistol  cocked. 

What  peddling  with  forged  letters  and  paid  spies, 

Politic  circumvention  !  —  all  to  end 

As  it  began  —  by  loss  of  the  fool's  head. 

First  in  a  figure,  presently  in  a  fact. 

It  is  a  lesson  to  mankind  at  large. 

How  other  were  the  end,  would  men  be  sage 

And  bear  confidingly  each  quarrel  straight. 


346  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

O  Law,  to  thy  recipient  mother-knees  ! 

How  would  the  children  light  come  and  prompt  go, 

This,  with  a  red-cheeked  apple  for  reward. 

The  other,  peradventure  red-cheeked  too 

I'  the  rear,  by  taste  of  birch  for  punishment. 

No  foolish  brawhng  murder  any  more ! 

Peace  for  the  household,  practice  for  the  Fisc, 

And  plenty  for  the  exchequer  of  my  lords  ! 

Too  much  to  hope,  in  this  world  :  in  the  next. 

Who  knows  ?    Since,  why  should  sit  the  Twelve  enthroned 

To  judge  the  tribes,  unless  the  tribes  be  judged  ? 

And  't  is  impossible  but  offences  come  : 

So,  all 's  one  lawsuit,  aU  one  long  leet-day ! 

Forgive  me  this  digression  —  that  I  stand 

Entranced  awhile  at  Law's  first  beam,  outbreak 

O'  the  business,  when  the  Count's  good  angel  bade 
<^'  Put  up  thy  sword,  born  enemy  to  the  ear. 

And  let  Law  listen  to  thy  difference  !  " 

And  Law  does  listen  and  compose  the  strife, 

Settle  the  suit,  how  wisely  and  how  well ! 

On  our  Pompilia,  faultless  to  a  fault. 

Law  bends  a  brow  maternally  severe. 

Implies  the  worth  of  perfect  chastity. 

By  fancying  the  flaw  she  cannot  find. 

Superfluous  sifting  snow,  nor  helps  nor  harms  : 

'T  is  safe  to  censure  levity  in  youth, 

Tax  womanhood  with  indiscretion,  sure ! 

Since  toys,  permissible  to-day,  become 

Follies  to-morrow  :  prattle  shocks  in  church : 

And  that  curt  skirt  which  lets  a  maiden  skip. 

The  matron  changes  for  a  trailing  robe. 

Mothers  may  aim  a  blow  with  half-shut  eyes 

Nodding  above  their  spindles  by  the  fire. 

And  chance  to  hit  some  hidden  fault,  else  safe. 

Just  so,  Law  hazarded  a  punishment  — 

If  applicable  to  the  circumstance, 

Why,  well !  if  not  so  apposite,  well  too. 
"  Quit  the  gay  range  o'  the  world,"  I  hear  her  cry, 
"  Enter,  in  lieu,  the  penitential  pound : 

Exchange  the  gauds  of  pomp  for  ashes,  dust ! 

Leave  each  moDitious  haunt  of  luxury  ! 

The  golden-garnished  silken-couched  alcove. 

The  many-columned  terrace  that  so  tempts 

Feminine  soul  put  foot  forth,  extend  ear 

To  fluttering  joy  of  lover's  serenade,  — 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA  BOTTINIUS  347 

Leave  these  for  cellular  seclusion !  mask 

And  dance  no  more,  but  fast  and  pray !  avaunt  — 

Be  burned,  thy  wicked  townsman's  sonnet-book  ! 

Welcome,  mild  hymnal  by  .  .  .  some  better  scribe ! 

For  the  warm  arms  were  wont  enfold  thy  flesh,  * 

Let  wire-shirt  plough  and  whip-cord  disciphne  !  " 

If  such  an  exhortation  proved,  perchance, 

Inapplicable,  words  bestowed  in  waste, 

What  harm,  since  Law  has  store,  can  spend  nor  miss  ? 

And  so,  our  paragon  submits  herself, 

Goes  at  command  into  the  holy  house, 

And,  also  at  command,  comes  out  again : 

For,  could  the  effect  of  such  obedience  prove 

Too  certain,  too  immediate  ?     Being  healed, 

Go  blaze  abroad  the  matter,  blessed  one  ! 

Art  thou  sound  forthwith  ?     Speedily  vacate 

The  step  by  pool-side,  leave  Bethesda  free 

To  patients  plentifully  posted  round. 

Since  the  whole  need  not  the  physician  !     Brief, 

She  may  betake  her  to  her  parents'  place. 

Welcome  her,  father,  with  wide  arms  once  more ; 

Motion  her,  mother,  to  thy  breast  again ! 

For  why  ?     Since  Law  relinquishes  the  charge, 

Grants  to  your  dwelling-place  a  prison's  style, 

Rejoice  you  with  Fompilia !  golden  days, 

Redeunt  Saturnia  regna.     Six  weeks  slip, 

And  she  is  domiciled  in  house  and  home 

As  though  she  thence  had  never  budged  at  all. 

And  thither  let  the  husband  —  joyous,  ay, 

But  contrite  also  —  quick  betake  himself, 

Proud  that  his  dove  which  lay  among  the  pots 

Hath  mued  those  dingy  feathers,  —  moulted  now, 

Shows  silver  bosom  clothed  with  yellow  gold  ! 

So  shall  he  tempt  her  to  the  perch  she  fled, 

Bid  to  domestic  bliss  the  truant  back. 

But  let  him  not  delay  !     Time  fleets  how  fast, 

And  opportunity,  the  irrevocable. 

Once  flown  will  flout  him !     Is  the  furrow  traced  ? 

If  field  with  corn  ye  fail  preoccupy. 

Darnel  for  wheat  and  thistle-beards  for  grain, 

Infelix  lolium,  carduus  horridus, 

Will  grow  apace  in  combination  prompt, 

Defraud  the  husbandman  of  his  desire. 

Already  —  hist  —  what  murmurs  'monish  now 


348        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  laggard  ?  —  doubtful,  nay,  fantastic  bruit 

Of  such  an  apparition,  such  return 

Int&rdum,  to  anticipate  the  spouse, 

Pf  Caponsacchi's  very  self !     'T  is  said, 

When  nights  are  lone  and  company  is  rare, 

His  visitations  brighten  winter  up. 

If  so  they  did  —  which  nowise  I  "believe  — 

(How  can  I  ?  —  proof  abounding  that  the  priest, 

Once  fairly  at  his  relegation-place, 

Never  once  left  it),  still,  admit  he  stole 

A  midnight  march,  would  fain  see  friend  again. 

Find  matter  for  instruction  in  the  past. 

Renew  the  old  adventure  in  such  chat 

As  cheers  a  fireside !     He  was  lonely  too, 

He,  too,  must  need  his  recreative  hour. 

Shall  it  amaze  the  philosophic  mind 

If  he,  long  wont  the  empurpled  cup  to  quaff, 

Have  feminine  society  at  will. 

Being  debarred  abruptly  from  all  drink 

Save  at  the  spring  which  Adam  used  for  wine, 

Dreads  harm  to  just  the  health  he  hoped  to  guard, 

And,  trying  abstinence,  gains  malady  ? 

Ask  Tozzi,  now  physician  to  the  Pope ! 

"  Little  by  little  break  "  —  (I  hear  he  bids 
Master  Arcangeli  my  antagonist, 
Who  loves  good  cheer,  and  may  indulge  too  much : 
So  I  explain  the  logic  of  the  plea 
Wherewith  he  opened  our  proceedings  late)  — 

"  Little  by  little  break  a  habit,  Don, 
Become  necessity  to  feeble  flesh !  " 
And  thus,  nocturnal  taste  of  intercourse 
(Which  never  happened,  —  but,  suppose  it  did) 
May  have  been  used  to  dishabituate 
By  sip  and  sip  this  drainer  to  the  dregs 
O'  the  draught  of  conversation,  —  heady  stuff, 
Brewage  which,  broached,  it  took  two  days  and  nights 
To  properly  discuss  i'  the  journey,  Sirs  ! 
Such  power  has  second-nature,  men  call  use, 
That  undelightful  objects  get  to  charm 
Instead  of  chafe  :  the  daily  colocynth 
Tickles  the  palate  by  repeated  dose, 
Old  sores  scratch  kindly,  the  ass  makes  a  push 
Although  the  mill-yoke-wound  be  smarting  yet, 
For  mill-door  bolted  on  a  hoUday  : 
Nor  must  we  marvel  here  if  impulse  urge 
To  talk  the  old  story  over  now  and  then, 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA  BOTTINIUS  349 

The  hopes  and  fears,  the  stoppage  and  the  haste,  — 

Subjects  of  colloquy  to  surfeit  once. 
"  Here  did  you  bid  me  twine  a  rosy  wreath !  " 
"  And  there  you  paid  my  lips  a  compliment !  " 
"  Here  you  admired  the  tower  could  be  so  taU !  " 
"  And  there  you  likened  that  of  Lebanon 

To  the  nose  of  the  beloved !  "     Trifles  !  stUl, 
"  Forsan  et  hcec  olim,"  —  such  trifles  serve 

To  make  the  minutes  pass  in  winter-time. 

Husband,  return  then,  I  re-counsel  thee ! 
For,  finally,  of  all  glad  circumstance 
Should  make  a  prompt  return  imperative, 
What  in  the  world  awaits  thee,  dost  suppose  ? 
O'  the  sudden,  as  good  gifts  are  wont  befaU, 
What  is  the  hap  of  our  unconscious  Count  ? 
That  which  lights  bonfire  and  sets  cask  a-tilt. 
Dissolves  the  stubborn'st  heart  in  jollity. 
O  admirable,  there  is  born  a  babe, 
A  son,  an  heir,  a  Franceschini  last 
And  best  o'  the  stock !     PompUia,  thine  the  palm  ! 
Repaying  incredulity  with  faith. 
Ungenerous  thrift  of  each  marital  debt 
With  bounty  in  profuse  expenditure, 
PompUia  scorns  to  have  the  old  year  end 
Without  a  present  shall  ring  in  the  new  — 
Bestows  on  her  too-parsimonious  lord 
An  infant  for  the  apple  of  his  eye. 
Core  of  his  heart,  and  crown  completing  life, 
True  sum/mum  honum  of  the  earthly  lot ! 
"  We,"  saith  ingeniously  the  sage,  "  are  born 
Solely  that  others  may  be  born  of  us." 
So,  father,  take  thy  child,  for  thine  that  child. 
Oh  nothing  doubt !     In  wedlock  born,  law  holds 
Baseness  impossible  :  since  "■films  est 
Quern  nuptioB  demonstrant,"  twits  the  text 
Whoever  dares  to  doubt. 

Yet  doubt  he  dares  ! 

O  faith,  where  art  thou  flown  from  out  the  world  ? 

Already  on  what  an  age  of  doubt  we  f  aU  ! 

Instead  of  each  disputing  for  the  prize, 

The  babe  is  bandied  here  from  that  to  this. 

Whose  the  babe  ?     "  Cvjum  pecus  ?  "  Guido's  lamb  ? 
"  An  Meliicei  ?  "     Nay,  but  of  the  priest ! 
"  Non  sed  Mgonis  I  "    Some  one  must  be  sire  : 


350  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

And  who  shall  say,  in  such  a  puzzling  strait, 

If  there  were  not  vouchsafed  some  miracle 

To  the  wife  who  had  been  harassed  and  abused 

More  than  enough  by  Guido's  family 

For  non-production  of  the  promised  fruit 

Of  marriage  ?     What  if  Nature,  I  demand. 

Touched  to  the  quick  by  taunts  upon  her  sloth, 

Had  roused  herself,  put  forth  recondite  power, 

Bestowed  this  birth  to  vindicate  her  sway, 

Like  the  strange  favor,  Maro  memorized 

As  granted  Aristaeus  when  his  hive 

Lay  empty  of  the  swarm  ?  not  one  more  bee  — 

Not  one  more  babe  to  Franceschini's  house  ! 

And  lo,  a  new  birth  filled  the  air  with  joy, 

Spnmg  from  the  bowels  of  the  generous  steer, 

A  novel  son  and  heir  rejoiced  the  Count ! 

Spontaneous  generation,  need  I  prove 

Were  facile  feat  to  Nature  at  a  pinch  ? 

Let  whoso  doubts,  steep  horsehair  certain  weeks, 

In  water,  there  wUl  be  produced  a  snake ; 

Spontaneous  product  of  the  horse,  which  horse 

Happens  to  be  the  representative  — 

Now  that  I  think  on  't —  of  Arezzo's  self. 

The  very  city  our  conception  blessed : 

Is  not  a  prancing  horse  the  City-arms  ? 

What  sane  eye  fails  to  see  coincidence  ? 

Cur  ego,  boast  thou,  my  Pompilia,  then, 

Desperem  fieri  sine  conjuge 

Mater  —  how  well  the  Ovidian  distich  suits  !  — 

Et  parere  intacto  dwmmodo 

Casta  viro  ?  such  miracle  was  wrought ! 

Note,  further,  as  to  mark  the  prodigy. 

The  babe  in  question  neither  took  the  name 

Of  Guido,  from  the  sire  presumptive,  nor 

Giuseppe,  from  the  sire  potential,  but 

Gaetano  —  last  saint  of  our  hierarchy, 

And  newest  namer  for  a  thing  so  new ! 

What  other  motive  could  have  prompted  choice  ? 

Therefore  be  peace  again :  exult,  ye  hiUs ! 
Ye  vales  rejoicingly  break  forth  in  song  ! 
Incipe,  parve  puer,  begin,  small  boy, 
Misu  cognoscere  patrem,  with  a  laugh 
To  recognize  thy  parent !     Nor  do  thou 
Boggle,  oh  parent,  to  return  the  grace  ! 
Nee  anceps  hoere,  pater,  puero 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA   BOTTINIUS  351 

Cognoscendo  —  one  may  well  eke  out  the  prayer ! 
In  vain !     The  perverse  Guido  doubts  his  eyes, 
Distrusts  assurance,  lets  the  devU  drive. 
Because  his  house  is  swept  and  garnished  now, 
He,  having  summoned  seven  like  himself. 
Must  hurry  thither,  knock  and  enter  in. 
And  make  the  last  worse  than  the  first,  indeed  ! 
Is  he  content  ?     We  are.     No  further  blame 
O'  the  man  and  murder  !     They  were  stigmatized 
Befittingly :  the  Court  heard  long  ago 
My  mind  o'  the  matter,  which,  outpouring  full, 
Has  long  since  swept  like  surge,  i'  the  simile 
Of  Homer,  overborne  both  dyke  and  dam. 
And  whelmed  alike  client  and  advocate  : 
His  fate  is  sealed,  his  life  as  good  as  gone. 
On  him  I  am  not  tempted  to  waste  word. 
Yet  though  my  purpose  holds,  —  which  was  and  is 
And  solely  shall  be  to  the  very  end, 
To  draw  the  true  effigies  of  a  saint, 
Do  justice  to  perfection  in  the  sex,  — 
Yet  let  not  some  gross  pamperer  of  the  flesh 
And  niggard  in  the  spirit's  nourishment, 
Whose  feeding  hath  obfuscated  his  wit 
Rather  than  law,  —  he  never  had,  to  lose  — • 
Let  not  such  advocate  object  to  me 
I  leave  my  proper  function  of  attack  ! 
"  What 's  this  to  Bacchus  ?  "  —  (in  the  classic  phrase, 
WeU  used,  for  once)  he  hiccups  probably. 
O  Advocate  o'  the  Poor,  thou  born  to  make 
Their  blessing  void  —  beati  pauperes  1 
By  painting  saintship  I  depicture  sin  : 
Beside  my  pearl,  I  prove  how  black  thy  jet, 
And,  through  PompUia's  virtue,  Guide's  crime. 

Back  to  her,  then,  —  with  but  one  beauty  more, 
End  we  our  argument,  —  one  crowning  grace 
Pre-eminent  'mid  agony  and  death. 
For  to  the  last  PompUia  played  her  part, 
Used  the  right  means  to  the  permissible  end, 
And,  wily  as  an  eel  that  stirs  the  mud 
Thick  overhead,  so  baffling  spearman's  thrust, 
She,  while  he  stabbed  her,  simulated  death. 
Delayed,  for  his  sake,  the  catastrophe, 
Obtained  herself  a  respite,  four  days'  grace, 
Whereby  she  told  her  story  to  the  world. 
Enabled  me  to  make  the  present  speech. 
And,  by  a  full  confession,  saved  her  soul. 


352  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Tet  hold,  even  here  would  malice  leer  its  last, 
Gurgle  its  choked  remonstrance :  snake,  hiss  free  ! 
Oh,  that 's  the  objection  ?     And  to  whom  ?  —  not  her 
But  me,  forsooth  —  as,  in  the  very  act 
Of  both  confession  and  (what  followed  close) 
Subsequent  talk,  chatter  and  gossipry, 
Babble  to  sympathizing  he  and  she 
Whoever  chose  besiege  her  dying-bed,  — 
As  this  were  found  at  variance  with  my  tale, 
Falsified  all  I  have  adduced  for  truth, 
Admitted  not  one  peccadillo  here, 
Pretended  to  perfection,  first  and  last, 
O'  the  whole  procedure  —  perfect  in  the  end, 
Perfect  i'  the  means,  perfect  in  everything, 
Leaving  a  lawyer  nothing  to  excuse, 
Reason  away  and  show  his  skill  about ! 
—  A  flight,  impossible  to  Adamic  flesh. 
Just  to  be  fancied,  scarcely  to  be  wished, 
And,  anyhow,  unpleadable  in  court ! 
"  How  reconcile,"  gasps  Malice, "  that  with  this  ?  " 

Your  "  this,"  friend,  is  extraneous  to  the  law, 

Comes  of  men's  outside  meddling,  the  unskilled 

Interposition  of  such  fools  as  press 

Out  of  their  province.     Must  I  speak  my  mind  ? 

Far  better  had  Pompilia  died  o'  the  spot 

Than  found  a  tongue  to  wag  and  shame  the  law, 

Shame  most  of  all  herself,  —  could  friendship  fail, 

And  advocacy  lie  less  on  the  alert : 

But  no,  they  shall  protect  her  to  the  end  ! 

Do  I  credit  the  alleged  narration  ?     No ! 

Lied  our  Pompilia  then,  to  laud  herself  ? 

StiU,  no  !     Clear  up  what  seems  discrepancy  ? 

The  means  abound  :  art 's  long,  though  time  is  short ; 

So,  keeping  me  in  compass,  all  I  urge 

Is  —  since,  confession  at  the  point  of  death, 

Nam  in  artioulo  mortis,  with  the  Church 

Passes  for  statement  honest  and  sincere, 

Nemo  presumitur  reus  esse,  —  then, 

If  sure  that  all  affirmed  would  be  believed, 

'T  was  charity,  in  her  so  circumstanced. 

To  spend  the  last  breath  in  one  effort  more 

For  universal  good  of  friend  and  foe : 

And,  —  by  pretending  utter  innocence, 

Nay,  freedom  from  each  foible  we  forgive,  — 

Re-integrate  —  not  solely  her  own  fame, 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA   BOTTINIUS  353 

But  do  the  like  kind  office  for  the  priest 

"Whom  telling  the  crude  truth  ahout  might  vex, 

Haply  expose  to  peril,  abbreviate 

Indeed  the  long  career  of  usefulness 

Presumably  before  him  :  while  her  lord, 

Whose  fleeting  life  is  forfeit  to  the  law,  — 

What  mercy  to  the  culprit  if,  by  just 

The  gift  of  such  a  full  certificate 

Of  his  immitigable  guiltiness, 

She  stifled  in  him  the  absurd  conceit 

Of  murder  as  it  were  a  mere  revenge 

—  Stopped  confirmation  of  that  jealousy 

Which,  did  she  but  acknowledge  the  first  flaw, 

The  faintest  foible,  had  emboldened  him 

To  battle  with  the  charge,  balk  penitence. 

Bar  preparation  for  impending  fate ! 

Whereas,  persuade  him  that  he  slew  a  saint 

Who  sinned  not  even  where  she  may  have  sinned. 

You  urge  him  all  the  brisklier  to  repent 

Of  most  and  least  and  aught  and  everything ! 

StUl,  if  this  view  of  mine  content  you  not. 

Lords,  nor  excuse  the  genial  falsehood  here, 

We  come  to  our  Triarii,  last  resource  : 

We  fall  back  on  the  inexpugnable, 

Submitting,  —  she  confessed  before  she  talked ! 

The  sacrament  obliterates  the  sin  : 

What  is  not,  —  was  not,  therefore,  in  a  sense. 

Let  MoUnists  distinguish,  "  Souls  washed  white 

But  red  once,  stUl  show  pinkish  to  the  eye  !  " 

We  say,  abolishment  is  nothingness, 

And  nothingness  has  neither  head  nor  tail, 

End  nor  beginning !     Better  estimate 

Exorbitantly,  than  disparage  aught 

Of  the  efflcacity  of  the  act,  1  hope  ! 

Solvuntur  tabulce  ?     May  we  laugh  and  go  ? 
Well,  —  not  before  (in  filial  gratitude 
To  Law,  who,  mighty  mother,  waves  adieu) 
We  take  on  us  to  vindicate  Law's  self  ! 
For,  — yea,  Sirs,  —  curb  the  start,  curtail  the  stare !  — 
Remains  that  we  apologize  for  haste 
I'  the  Law,  our  lady  who  here  bristles  up, 
"  Blame  my  procedure  ?     Could  the  Court  mistake  ? 
(Which  were  indeed  a  misery  to  think)  ; 
Did  not  my  sentence  in  the  former  stage 
0'  the  business  bear  a  title  plain  enough  ? 


354  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Decretum  "  —  I  translate  it  word  for  word  — 
"  '  Decreed :  the  priest,  for  his  complicity 
I'  the  flight  and  deviation  of  the  dame, 
As  well  as  for  unlawful  intercourse, 
Is  banished  three  years  : '  crime  and  penalty, 
Declared  alike.     If  he  be  taxed  with  guUt, 
How  can  you  call  Pompilia  innocent  ? 
If  both  be  innocent,  have  I  been  just  ?  " 

Gently,  O  mother,  judge  men  —  whose  mistake 
Is  in  the  mere  misapprehensiveness  ! 
The  Titulus  a-top  of  your  decree 
Was  but  to  ticket  there  the  kind  of  charge 
You  in  good  time  would  arbitrate  upon. 
Title  is  one  thing,  —  arbitration's  seH, 
Prohatio,  quite  another  possibly. 
Subsistit,  there  holds  good  the  old  response, 
Responsio  tradita,  we  must  not  stick, 
Quod  non  sit  attendendus  Titulus, 
To  the  Tide,  sed  Prohatio,  but  the  Proof, 
Resvltans  ex  processu,  the  result 
O'  the  Trial,  and  the  style  of  punishment, 
^t  pcena  per  sententiam  imposita. 
All  is  tentative,  till  the  sentence  come  : 
An  indication  of  what  men  expect, 
But  nowise  an  assurance  they  shall  find. 
Lords,  what  if  we  permissibly  relax 
The  tense  bow,  as  the  law-god  Phoebus  bids, 
Relieve  our  gravity  at  labor's  close  ? 
I  traverse  Rome,  feel  thirsty,  need  a  draught. 
Look  for  a  wine-shop,  find  it  by  the  bough 
Projecting  as  to  say  "  Here  wine  is  sold !  " 
So  much  I  know,  —  "  sold  :  "  but  what  sort  of  wine  ? 
Strong,  weak,  sweet,  sour,  home-made  or  foreign  drink  ? 
That  much  must  I  discover  by  myself. 
"Wine  is  sold,"  quoth  the  bough,  "but  good  or  bad, 
Find,  and  inform  us  when  you  smack  your  lips !  " 
Exactly  so.  Law  hangs  her  title  forth, 
To  show  she  entertains  you  with  such  case 
About  such  crime.     Come  in !  she  pours,  you  quafE. 
You  find  the  Priest  good  liquor  in  the  main, 
But  heady  and  provocative  of  brawls : 
Remand  the  residue  to  flask  once  more. 
Lay  it  low  where  it  may  deposit  lees, 
I'  the  cellar :  thence  produce  it  presently, 
Three  years  the  brighter  and  the  better  ! 


JOHANNES-BAPTISTA   BOTTINIUS  355 

Thus, 
Law's  son,  have  I  bestowed  my  filial  help. 
And  thus  I  end,  tenax  proposito  j 
Point  to  point  as  I  purposed  have  I  drawn 
Pompilia,  and  implied  as  terribly 
Guido :  so,  gazing,  let  the  world  crown  Law  — 
Able  once  more,  despite  my  impotence. 
And  helped  by  the  acumen  of  the  Court, 
To  eliminate,  display,  make  triumph  truth  ! 
What  other  prize  than  truth  were  worth  the  pains  ? 


There  's  my  oration  —  much  exceeds  in  length 
That  famed  panegyric  of  Isocrates, 
They  say  it  took  him  fifteen  years  to  pen. 
But  all  those  ancients  could  say  anything  ! 
He  put  in  just  what  rushed  into  his  head  : 
While  I  shall  have  to  prune  and  pare  and  print. 
This  comes  of  being  born  in  modern  times 
With  priests  for  auditory.     Still,  it  pays. 


X. 

THE  POPE. 

Like  to  Ahasuerus,  that  shrewd  prince, 

I  will  begin,  —  as  is,  these  seven  years  now, 

My  daily  wont,  —  and  read  a  History 

(Written  by  one  whose  deft  right  hand  was  dust 

To  the  last  digit,  ages  ere  my  birth) 

Of  all  my  predecessors.  Popes  of  Rome : 

For  though  mine  ancient  early  dropped  the  pen. 

Yet  others  picked  it  up  and  wrote  it  dry, 

Siace  of  the  making  books  there  is  no  end. 

And  so  I  have  the  Papacy  complete 

From  Peter  first  to  Alexander  last ; 

Can  question  each  and  take  instruction  so. 

Have  I  to  dare? —  I  ask,  how  dared  this  Pope  ? 

To  suffer  ?     Such-an-one,  how  sufBered  he  ? 

Being  about  to  judge,  as  now,  I  seek 

How  judged  once,  well  or  ill,  some  other  Pope ; 

Study  some  signal  judgment  that  subsists 

To  blaze  on,  or  else  blot,  the  page  which  seals 

The  sum  up  of  what  gain  or  loss  to  God 

Came  of  His  one  more  Vicar  in  the  world. 

So,  do  I  find  example,  rule  of  life ; 

So,  square  and  set  in  order  the  next  page. 

Shall  be  stretched  smooth  o'er  my  own  funeral  cyst. 

Eight  hundred  years  exact  before  the  year 
I  was  made  Pope,  men  made  Formosus  Pope, 
Say  Sigebert  and  other  chroniclers. 
Ere  I  confirm  or  quash  the  Trial  here 
Of  Guido  Franceschini  and  his  friends, 
Bead,  —  How  there  was  a  ghastly  Trial  once 
Of  a  dead  man  by  a  live  man,  and  both,  Popes : 
Thus  —  ia  the  antique  penman's  very  phrase. 

"  Then  Stephen,  Pope  and  seventh  of  the  name, 
Cried  out,  in  synod  as  he  sat  in  state. 
While  choler  quivered  on  his  brow  and  beard, 


THE  POPE  367 

'  Come  into  court,  Formosus,  thou  lost  wretch, 
That  claimedst  to  be  late  Pope  as  even  I ! ' 

"  And  at  the  word,  the  great  door  of  the  church 
Flew  wide,  and  in  they  brought  Formosus'  self, 
The  body  of  him,  dead,  even  as  embalmed 
And  buried  duly  in  the  Vatican 
Eight  months  before,  exhumed  thus  for  the  nonce. 
They  set  it,  that  dead  body  of  a  Pope, 
Clothed  in  pontific  vesture  now  again, 
Upright  on  Peter's  chair  as  if  alive. 

"  And  Stephen,  springing  up,  cried  furiously, 
'  Biskop  of  Porto,  wherefore  didst  presume 
To  leave  that  see  and  take  this  Roman  see, 
Exchange  the  lesser  for  the  greater  see, 
—  A  thing  against  the  canons  of  the  Church  ? ' 

"  Then  one  —  (a  Deacon  who,  observing  forms. 
Was  placed  by  Stephen  to  repel  the  charge. 
Be  advocate  and  mouthpiece  of  the  corpse)  — 
Spoke  as  he  dared,  set  stammeringly  forth 
With  white  lips  and  dry  tongue,  —  as  but  a  youth, 
For  frightful  was  the  corpse-face  to  behold,  — 
How  nowise  lacked  there  precedent  for  this. 

"  But  when,  for  his  last  precedent  of  aU, 

Emboldened  by  the  Spirit,  out  he  blurts, 
'  And,  Holy  Father,  didst  not  thou  thyself 
Vacate  the  lesser  for  the  greater  see, 
Half  a  year  since  change  Arago  for  Rome  ?  ' 

*  —  Te  have  the  sin's  defence  now,  synod  mine  ! ' 
Shrieks  Stephen  in  a  beastly  froth  of  rage  : 

'  Judge  now  betwixt  him  dead  and  me  aUve  ! 
Hath  he  intruded,  or  do  I  pretend  ? 
Judge,  judge  ! '  —  breaks  wavelike  one  whole  foam  of  wrath 

•'  Whereupon  they,  being  friends  and  followers, 
Said,  *  Ay,  thou  art  Christ's  Vicar,  and  not  he  ! 
Away  with  what  is  frightful  to  behold ! 
This  act  was  uncanonic  and  a  fault.' 

"  Then,  swallowed  up  in  rage,  Stephen  exclaimed, 

*  So,  guilty !     So,  remains  I  punish  guilt ! 
He  is  unpoped,  and  all  he  did  I  damn : 
The  Bishop,  that  ordained  him,  I  degrade  : 


358  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Depose  to  laics  those  he  raised  to  priests  : 

What  they  have  wrought  is  mischief  nor  shall  stand, 

It  is  confusion,  let  it  vex  no  more  ! 

Since  I  revoke,  annul  and  abrogate 

All  his  decrees  in  all  kinds  :  they  are  void  ! 

In  token  whereof  and  warning  to  the  world, 

Strip  me  yon  miscreant  of  those  robes  usurped, 

And  clothe  him  with  vile  serge  befitting  such  ! 

Then  hale  the  carrion  to  the  market-place ; 

Let  the  town-hangman  chop  from  his  right  hand 

Those  same  three  fingers  which  he  blessed  withal ; 

Next  cut  the  head  off,  once  was  crowned  forsooth : 

And  last  go  fling  them,  fingers,  head  and  trunk, 

To  Tiber  that  my  Christian  fish  may  sup  ! ' 

—  Either  because  of  IX®YS  which  means  Fish 

And  very  aptly  symbolizes  Christ, 

Or  else  because  the  Pope  is  Fisherman, 

And  seals  with  Fisher's-signet. 

"  Anyway, 
So  said,  so  done :  himself,  to  see  it  done. 
Followed  the  corpse  they  trailed  from  street  to  street 
TUl  into  Tiber  wave  they  threw  the  thing. 
The  people,  crowded  on  the  banks  to  see. 
Were  loud  or  mute,  wept  or  laughed,  cursed  or  jeered. 
According  as  the  deed  addressed  their  sense  ; 
A  scandal  verily :  and  out  spake  a  Jew, 
'  Wot  ye  your  Christ  had  vexed  our  Herod  thus  ? ' 

"  Now  when,  Formosus  being  dead  a  year. 
His  judge  Pope  Stephen  tasted  death  in  turn, 
Made  captive  by  the  mob  and  strangled  straight, 
Romanus,  his  successor  for  a  month, 
Did  make  protest  Formosus  was  with  Grod, 
Holy,  just,  true  in  thought  and  word  and  deed. 
Next  Theodore,  who  reigned  but  twenty  days. 
Therein  convoked  a  synod,  whose  decree 
Did  reinstate,  repope  the  late  unpoped. 
And  do  away  with  Stephen  as  accursed. 
So  that  when  presently  certain  fisher-folk 
(As  if  the  queasy  river  could  not  hold 
Its  swallowed  Jonas,  but  discharged  the  meal) 
Produced  the  timely  product  of  their  nets. 
The  mutilated  man,  Formosus,  —  saved 
From  putrefaction  by  the  embalmer's  spice. 
Or,  as  some  said,  by  sanctity  of  flesh,  — 


THE  POPE  369 

'  "Why,  lay  the  body  again,'  bade  Theodore 
*  Among  his  predecessors,  in  the  church 

And  burial-place  of  Peter ! '  which  was  done. 
'Andj'addeth  Luitprand,'inany  of  repute. 

Pious  and  still  alive,  avouch  to  me 

That,  as  they  bore  the  body  up  the  aisle. 

The  saints  in  imaged  row  bowed  each  his  head 

For  welcome  to  a  brother-saint  come  back.' 

As  for  Bomanus  and  this  Theodore, 

These  two  Popes,  through  the  brief  reign  granted  each, 

Could  but  initiate  what  John  came  to  close 

And  give  the  final  stamp  to :  he  it  was. 

Ninth  of  the  name,  (I  foUow  the  best  guides) 

Who,  — in  full  synod  at  Ravenna  held 

With  Bishops  seventy-four,  and  present  too 

Eude  King  of  France  with  his  Archbishopiy,  — 

Did  condemn  Stephen,  anathematize 

The  disinterment,  and  make  all  blots  blank. 
'  For,'  argueth  here  Auxilius  in  a  place 

De  Ordinationibits,  '  precedents 

Had  been,  no  lack,  before  Formosus  long, 

Of  Bishops  so  transferred  from  see  to  see,  — 

Marinus,  for  example : '  read  the  tract. 

"  But,  after  John,  came  Sergius,  reaffirmed 
The  right  of  Stephen,  cursed  Formosus,  nay 
Cast  out,  some  say,  his  corpse  a  second  time. 
And  here,  —  because  the  matter  went  to  ground, 
Fretted  by  new  griefs,  other  cares  of  the  age,  — • 
Here  is  the  last  pronouncing  of  the  Church, 
Her  sentence  that  subsists  unto  this  day. 
Yet  constantly  opinion  hath  prevailed 
I'  the  Church,  Formosus  was  a  holy  man." 

Which  of  the  judgments  was  infallible  ? 
Which  of  my  predecessors  spoke  for  God  ? 
And  what  availed  Formosus  that  this  cursed, 
That  blessed,  and  then  this  other  cursed  again  ? 
'"  Fear  ye  not  those  whose  power  can  kill  the  body 
And  not  the  soul,"  saith  Christ,  "  but  rather  those 
Can  cast  both  soul  and  body  into  heU  !  " 

John  judged  thus  in  Eight  Hundred  Ninety  Eight, 
Exact  eight  hundred  years  ago  to-day 
When,  sitting  in  his  stead.  Vicegerent  here, 
I  must  give  judgment  on  my  own  behoof. 
So  worked  the  predecessor :  now,  my  turn  .' 


360  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

In  God's  name  !     Once  more  on  this  earth  of  God's, 

WWle  twilight  lasts  and  time  wherein  to  work, 

I  take  His  staff  with  my  uncertain  hand, 

And  stay  my  six  and  fourscore  years,  my  due 

Labor  and  sorrow,  on  His  judgment-seat, 

And  forthwith  think,  speak,  act,  in  place  of  Him  — 

The  Pope  for  Christ.     Once  more  appeal  is  made 

From  man's  assize  to  mine  :  I  sit  and  see 

Another  poor  weak  trembling  human  wretch 

Pushed  by  his  fellows,  who  pretend  the  right. 

Up  to  the  gulf  which,  where  I  gaze,  begins 

From  this  world  to  the  next,  —  gives  way  and  way, 

Just  on  the  edge  over  the  awful  dark : 

"With  nothing  to  arrest  him  but  my  feet. 

He  catches  at  me  with  convulsive  face. 

Cries  "  Leave  to  live  the  natural  minute  more !  " 

While  hollowly  the  avengers  echo  "  Leave  ? 

None  !     So  has  he  exceeded  man's  due  share 

In  man's  fit  license,  wrung  by  Adam's  fall. 

To  sin  and  yet  not  surely  die,  —  that  we, 

All  of  us  sinful,  all  with  need  of  grace. 

All  chary  of  our  life,  —  the  minute  more 

Or  minute  less  of  grace  which  saves  a  soul,  — 

Bound  to  make  common  cause  with  who  craves  time, 

—  We  yet  protest  against  the  exorbitance 

Of  sin  in  this  one  sinner,  and  demand 

That  his  poor  sole  remaining  piece  of  time 

Be  plucked  from  out  his  clutch  :  put  him  to  death ! 

Punish  him  now !     As  for  the  weal  or  woe 

Hereafter,  God  grant  mercy !     Man  be  just, 

Nor  let  the  felon  boast  he  went  scot-free !  " 

And  I  am  bound,  the  solitary  judge. 

To  weigh  the  worth,  decide  upon  the  plea, 

And  either  hold  a  hand  out,  or  withdraw 

A  foot  and  let  the  wretch  drift  to  the  fall. 

Ay,  and  while  thus  I  dally,  dare  perchance 

Put  fancies  for  a  comfort  'twixt  this  cahn 

And  yonder  passion  that  I  have  to  bear,  — 

As  if  reprieve  were  possible  for  both 

Prisoner  and  Pope,  —  how  easy  were  reprieve  I 

A  touch  o'  the  hand-bell  here,  a  hasty  word 

To  those  who  wait,  and  wonder  they  wait  long, 

I'  the  passage  there,  and  I  should  gain  the  life !  — 

Yea,  though  I  flatter  me  with  fancy  thus, 

I  know  it  is  but  Nature's  craven-trick. 

The  case  is  over,  judgment  at  an  end. 


THE  POPE  361 

And  all  things  done  now  and  irrevocable : 

A  mere  dead  man  is  Franceschini  here, 

Even  as  Formosus  centuries  ago. 

I  have  worn  through  this  sombre  wintry  day, 

With  winter  in  my  soul  beyond  the  world's, 

Over  these  dismalest  of  documents 

Which  drew  night  down  on  me  ere  eve  befell,  — 

Pleadings  and  counter-pleadings,  figure  of  fact 

Beside  fact's  self,  these  summaries,  to  wit,  — 

How  certain  three  were  slain  by  certain  five : 

I  read  here  why  it  was,  and  how  it  went, 

And  how  the  chief  o'  the  five  preferred  excuse. 

And  how  law  rather  chose  defence  should  lie,  — 

What  argument  he  urged  by  wary  word 

When  free  to  play  off  wUe,  start  subterfuge, 

And  what  the  unguarded  groan  told,  torture's  feat 

When  law  grew  brutal,  outbroke,  overbore 

And  glutted  hunger  on  the  truth,  at  last,  — • 

No  matter  for  the  flesh  and  blood  between. 

All 's  a  clear  rede  and  no  more  riddle  now. 

Truth,  nowhere,  lies  yet  everywhere  in  these  — 

Not  absolutely  in  a  portion,  yet 

Evolvable  from  the  whole :  evolved  at  last 

Painf  uUy,  held  tenaciously  by  me. 

Therefore  there  is  not  any  doubt  to  clear 

When  I  shall  write  the  brief  word  presently 

And  chink  the  hand-bell,  which  I  pause  to  do. 

Irresolute  ?     Not  I,  more  than  the  mound 

With  the  pine-trees  on  it  yonder !     Some  surmise, 

Perchance,  that  since  man's  wit  is  fallible, 

Mine  may  fail  here  ?     Suppose  it  so,  —  what  then  ? 

Say,  —  Guido,  I  count  guilty,  there 's  no  babe 

So  guiltless,  for  I  misconceive  the  man ! 

What 's  in  the  chance  should  move  me  from  my  mind  ? 

If,  as  I  walk  in  a  rough  country-side. 

Peasants  of  mine  cry,  "  Thou  art  he  can  help. 

Lord  of  the  land  and  counted  wise  to  boot : 

Look  at  our  brother,  strangling  in  his  foam. 

He  fell  so  where  we  find  him,  —  prove  thy  worth !  " 

I  may  presume,  pronounce,  "  A  frenzy-fit, 

A  falling-sickness  or  a  fever-stroke  ! 

Breathe  a  vein,  copiously  let  blood  at  once  !  " 

So  perishes  the  patient,  and  anon 

I  hear  my  peasants  —  "  All  was  error,  lord ! 

Our  story,  thy  prescription  :  for  there  crawled 

In  due  time  from,  our  hapless  brother's  breast 


362  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  serpent  which  had  stung  him :  bleeding  slew 
Whom  a  prompt  cordial  had  restored  to  health," 
What  other  should  I  say  than  "  God  so  willed ; 
Mankind  is  ignorant,  a  man  am  I : 
Call  ignorance  my  sorrow  not  my  sin  !  " 
So  and  not  otherwise,  in  after-time. 
If  some  acuter  wit,  fresh  probing,  sound 
This  multifarious  mass  of  words  and  deeds 
Deeper,  and  reach  through  guilt  to  innocence, 
I  shall  face  Guide's  ghost  nor  blench  a  jot. 
"  God  who  set  me  to  judge  thee,  meted  out 
So  much  of  judging  faculty,  no  more  : 
Ask  Him  if  I  was  slack  in  use  thereof !  " 
I  hold  a  heavier  fault  imputable 
Inasmuch  as  I  changed  a  chaplain  once, 
For  no  cause,  —  no,  if  I  must  bare  my  heart,  — 
Save  that  he  snuffled  somewhat  saying  mass. 
For  I  am  'ware  it  is  the  seed  of  act, 
God  holds  appraising  in  His  hollow  palm. 
Not  act  grown  great  thence  on  the  world  below, 
Leafage  and  branchage,  vulgar  eyes  admire. 
Therefore  I  stand  on  my  integrity, 
Nor  fear  at  all :  and  if  I  hesitate. 
It  is  because  I  need  to  breathe  awhile, 
Rest,  as  the  human  right  allows,  review 
Intent  the  little  seeds  of  act,  my  tree,  — 
The  thought,  which,  clothed  in  deed,  I  give  the  world 
At  chink  of  beU  and  push  of  arrased  door. 

O  pale  departure,  dim  disgrace  of  day ! 

Winter 's  in  wane,  his  vengeful  worst  art  thon, 

To  dash  the  boldness  of  advancing  March ! 

Thy  chiU  persistent  rain  has  purged  our  streets 

Of  gossipry  ;  pert  tongue  and  idle  ear 

By  this,  consort  'neath  archway,  portico. 

But  wheresoe'er  Rome  gathers  in  the  gray. 

Two  names  now  snap  and  flash  from  mouth  to  mouth  - 

(Sparks,  flint  and  steel  strike)  —  Guido  and  the  Pope. 

By  this  same  hour  to-morrow  eve  —  aha. 

How  do  they  call  him  ?  —  the  sagacious  Swede 

Who  finds  by  figures  how  the  chances  prove. 

Why  one  comes  rather  than  another  thing. 

As,  say,  such  dots  turn  up  by  throw  of  dice. 

Or,  if  we  dip  in  Virgil  here  and  there 

And  prick  for  such  a  verse,  when  such  shall  point 

Take  this  Swede,  teU  him,  hiding  name  and  rank. 


THE  POPE  363 

Two  men  are  in  our  city  this  dull  eve ; 

One  doomed  to  death,  —  but  hundreds  in  such  plight 

Slip  aside,  clean  escape  by  leave  of  law 

Which  leans  to  mercy  in  this  latter  time  ; 

Moreover  in  the  plenitude  of  life 

Is  he,  with  strength  of  limb  and  brain  adroit, 

Presumably  of  service  here  :  beside, 

The  man  is  noble,  backed  by  nobler  friends : 

Nay,  they  so  wish  him  well,  the  city's  self 

Makes  common  cause  with  who  —  house-magistrate, 

Patron  of  hearth  and  home,  domestic  lord  — 

But  ruled  his  own,  let  aliens  cavU.     Die  ? 

He  'U  bribe  a  jailer  or  break  prison  first ! 

Nay,  a  sedition  may  be  helpful,  give 

Hint  to  the  mob  to  batter  wall,  burn  gate, 

And  bid  the  favorite  malefactor  march. 

Calculate  now  these  chances  of  escape  ! 
"  It  is  not  probable,  but  well  may  be." 

Again,  there  is  another  man,  weighed  now 

By  twice  eight  years  beyond  the  seven-times-ten, 

Appointed  overweight  to  break  our  branch. 

And  this  man's  loaded  branch  lifts,  more  than  snow, 

All  the  world's  cark  and  care,  though  a  bird's-nest 

Were  a  superfluous  burden  :  notably 

Hath  he  been  pressed,  as  if  his  age  were  youth. 

From  to-day's  dawn  tUl  now  that  day  departs. 

Trying  one  question  with  true  sweat  of  soul, 
"  Shall  the  said  doomed  man  fitlier  die  or  live  ?  " 

When  a  straw  swallowed  in  his  posset,  stool 

Stumbled  on  where  his  path  lies,  any  pu£E 

That 's  incident  to  such  a  smoking  flax, 

Hurries  the  natural  end  and  quenches  him ! 

Now  calculate,  thou  sage,  the  chances  here. 

Say,  which  shall  die  the  sooner,  this  or  that  ? 
"  That,  possibly,  this  in  aU  likelihood. " 

I  thought  so  :  yet  thou  tripp'st,  my  foreign  friend  ! 

No,  it  will  be  quite  otherwise,  —  to-day 

Is  Guido's  last :  my  term  is  yet  to  run. 

But  say  the  Swede  were  right,  and  I  forthwith 
Acknowledge  a  prompt  summons  and  lie  dead : 
Why,  then  I  stand  already  in  God's  face 
And  hear,  "  Since  by  its  fruit  a  tree  is  judged. 
Show  me  thy  fruit,  the  latest  act  of  thine  ! 
For  in  the  last  is  summed  the  first  and  all,  — 
What  thy  life  last  put  heart  and  soul  into, 


364  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

There  shall  I  taste  thy  product."     I  must  plead 
This  condemnation  of  a  man  to-day. 

Not  so  !     Expect  nor  question  nor  reply 
At  what  we  figure  as  God's  judgment-bar  ! 
None  of  this  vile  way  by  the  barren  words 
Which,  more  than  any  deed,  characterize 
Man  as  made  subject  to  a  curse:  no  speefeh  — 
That  still  bursts  o'er  some  lie  which  lurks  inside, 
As  the  split  skin  across  the  coppery  snake, 
And  most  denotes  man !  since,  in  all  beside, 
In  hate  or  lust  or  guile  or  unbelief. 
Out  of  some  core  of  truth  the  excrescence  comes, 
And,  in  the  last  resort,  the  man  may  urge 
"  So  was  I  made,  a  weak  thing  that  gave  way 
To  truth,  to  impulse  only  strong  since  true, 
And  hated,  lusted,  used  guile,  forewent  faith." 
But  when  man  walks  the  garden  of  this  world 
For  his  own  solace,  and,  unchecked  by  law, 
Speaks  or  keeps  silence  as  himself  sees  fit. 
Without  the  least  incumbency  to  lie, 

—  Why,  can  he  tell  you  what  a  rose  is  like. 
Or  how  the  birds  fly,  and  not  slip  to  false 

Though  truth  serve  better  ?     Man  must  tell  his  mate 
Of  you,  me  and  himself,  knowing  he  lies, 
Knowing  his  fellow  knows  the  same,  —  will  think 
"  He  lies,  it  is  the  method  of  a  man  !  " 
And  yet  will  speak  for  answer  "  It  is  truth  " 
To  him  who  shall  rejoin  "  Again  a  lie !  " 
Therefore  these  filthy  rags  of  speech,  this  coil 
Of  statement,  comment,  query  and  response. 
Tatters  all  too  contaminate  for  use. 
Have  no  renewing :  He,  the  Truth,  is,  too. 
The  Word.     We  men,  in  our  degree,  may  know 
There,  simply,  instantaneously,  as  here 
After  long  time  and  amid  many  lies, 
Whatever  we  dare  think  we  know  indeed 

—  That  I  am  I,  as  He  is  He,  —  what  else  ? 
But  be  man's  method  for  man's  life  at  least ! 
Wherefore,  Antonio  Pignatelli,  thou 

My  ancient  self,  who  wast  no  Pope  so  long 
But  studiedst  God  and  man,  the  many  years 
I'  the  school,  i'  the  cloister,  in  the  diocese 
Domestic,  legate-rule  in  forei^  lands,  — 
Thou  other  force  in  those  old  busy  days 
Than  this  gray  ultimate  decrepitude,  — 


THE  POPE  365 

Tet  sensible  of  fires  that  more  and  more 

Visit  a  soul,  in  passage  to  the  sky, 

Left  i|akeder  than  when  flesh-robe  was  new  — 

Thou,  not  Pope  but  the  mere  old  man  o'  the  world, 

Supposed  inquisitive  and  dispassionate. 

Wilt  thou,  the  one  whose  speech  I  somewhat  trust, 

Question  the  pfter-me,  this  self  now  Pope, 

Hear  his  prwedure,  criticise  his  work  ? 

Wise  in  its  generation  is  the  world. 

This  is  why  Guido  is  found  reprobate. 
I  see  him  furnished  forth  for  his  career, 
On  starting  for  the  life-chance  in  our  world, 
With  nearly  all  we  count  sufficient  help  : 
Body  and  mind  in  balance,  a  sound  frame, 
A  solid  intellect :  the  wit  to  seek, 
Wisdom  to  choose,  and  courage  wherewithal 
To  deal  in  whatsoever  circumstance 
Should  minister  to  man,  make  life  succeed. 
Oh,  and  much  drawback  !  what  were  earth  without  ? 
Is  this  our  ultimate  stage,  or  starting-place 
To  try  man's  foot,  if  it  will  creep  or  climb, 
'Mid  obstacles  in  seeming,  points  that  prove 
Advantage  for  who  vaults  from  low  to  high 
And  makes  the  stumbling-block  a  stepping-stone  ? 
So,  Guido,  born  with  appetite,  lacks  food : 
Is  poor,  who  yet  could  deftly  play-o£B  wealth : 
Straitened,  whose  limbs  are  restless  till  at  large- 
He,  as  he  eyes  each  outlet  of  the  cirque 
And  narrow  penfold  for  probation,  pines 
After  the  good  things  just  outside  its  grate. 
With  less  monition,  fainter  conscience-twitch, 
Rarer  instinctive  qualm  at  the  first  feel 
Of  greed  unseemly,  prompting  grasp  undue. 
Than  nature  furnishes  her  main  mankind,  — 
Making  it  harder  to  do  wrong  than  right 
The  first  time,  careful  lest  the  common  ear 
Break  measure,  miss  the  outstep  of  life's  march. 
Wherein  I  see  a  trial  fair  and  fit 
For  one  else  too  unfairly  fenced  about, 
Set  above  sin,  beyond  his  fellows  here : 
Guarded  from  the  arch-tempter  all  must  fight. 
By  a  great  birth,  traditionary  name, 
Diligent  culture,  choice  companionship, 
Above  all,  conversancy  with  the  faith 
Which  puts  forth  for  its  base  of  doctrine  just, 


366  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

"  Man  is  born  nowise  to  content  himself. 
But  please  God."     He  accepted  such  a  rule. 
Recognized  man's  obedience ;  and  the  Churchj^ 
Which  simply  is  such  rule's  embodiment, 
He  clave  to,  he  held  on  by,  —  nay,  indeed, 
Near  pushed  inside  of,  deep  as  layman  durst, 
Professed  so  much  of  priesthood  as  might  sue 
For  priest's-exemption  where  the  laymarfsinned,  — 
Got  his  arm  frocked  which,  bare,  the  law  would  bruise. 
Hence,  at  this  moment,  what 's  his  last  resource, 
His  extreme  stay  and  utmost  stretch  of  hope 
But  that,  —  convicted  of  such  crime  as  law 
Wipes  not  away  save  with  a  worldling's  blood,  — 
Guido,  the  three-parts  consecrate,  may  'scape  ? 
Nay,  the  portentous  brothers  of  the  man 
Are  veritably  priests,  protected  each 
May  do  his  murder  in  the  Church's  pale. 
Abate  Paul,  Canon  Girolamo  ! 
This  is  the  man  proves  irreligiousest 
Of  all  mankind,  religion's  parasite  ! 
This  may  forsooth  plead  dinned  ear,  jaded  sense. 
The  vice  o'  the  watcher  who  bides  near  the  beU, 
Sleeps  sound  because  the  clock  is  vigilant. 
And  cares  not  whether  it  be  shade  or  shine, 
Doling  out  day  and  night  to  all  men  else  ! 
Why  was  the  choice  o'  the  man  to  niche  himself 
Perversely  'neath  the  tower  where  Time's  own  tongue 
Thus  undertakes  to  sermonize  the  world  ? 
Why,  but  because  the  solemn  is  safe  too, 
The  belfry  proves  a  fortress  of  a  sort. 
Has  other  uses  than  to  teach  the  hour  : 
Turns  sunscreen,  paravent  and  ombrifuge 
To  whoso  seeks  a  shelter  in  its  pale, 
—  Ay,  and  attractive  to  unwary  folk 
Who  gaze  at  storied  portal,  statued  spire, 
And  go  home  with  full  head  but  empty  purse, 
Nor  dare  suspect  the  sacristan  the  thief ! 
Shall  Judas  —  hard  upon  the  donor's  heel, 
To  filch  the  fragments  of  the  basket  —  plead 
He  was  too  near  the  preacher's  mouth,  nor  sat 
Attent  with  fifties  in  a  company  ? 
No,  —  closer  to  promulgated  decree, 
Clearer  the  censure  of  default.     Proceed ! 

I  find  him  bound,  then,  to  begin  life  well ; 
Fortified  by  propitious  circumstance, 


THE  POPE  367 

Great  birth,  good  breeding,  with  the  Church  for  guide, 

How  lives  he  ?     Cased  thus  in  a  coat  of  proof, 

Mailed  like  a  man-at-arms,  though  all  the  while 

A  puny  starveling,  —  does  the  breast  pant  big, 

The  limb  swell  to  the  limit,  emptiness 

Strive  to  become  solidity  indeed  ? 

Rather,  he  shrinks  up  like  the  ambiguous  fish, 

Detaches  flesh  from  shell  and  outside  show. 

And  steals  by  moonlight  (I  have  seen  the  thing) 

In  and  out,  now  to  prey  and  now  to  skulk. 

Armor  he  boasts  when  a  wave  breaks  on  beach. 

Or  bird  stoops  for  the  prize  :  with  peril  nigh,  — 

The  man  of  rank,  the  much-befriended  man, 

The  man  almost  affiliate  to  the  Church, 

Such  is  to  deal  with,  let  the  world  beware  ! 

Does  the  world  recognize,  pass  prudently  ? 

Do  tides  abate  and  sea^fowl  hunt  i'  the  deep  ? 

Ah'eady  is  the  slug  from  out  its  mew. 

Ignobly  faring  with  all  loose  and  free. 

Sand-fly  and  slush-worm  at  their  garbage-feast, 

A  naked  blotch  no  better  than  they  all : 

Guido  has  dropped  nobility,  slipped  the  Church, 

Plays  trickster  if  not  cut-purse,  body  and  soul 

Prostrate  among  the  filthy  feeders  —  faugh ! 

And  when  Law  takes  him  by  surprise  at  last, 

Catches  the  foul  thing  on  its  carrion-prey. 

Behold,  he  points  to  shell  left  high  and  dry, 

Pleads  "  But  the  case  out  yonder  is  myself  !  " 

Nay,  it  is  thou.  Law  prongs  amid  thy  peers, 

Congenial  vermin ;  that  was  none  of  thee. 

Thine  outside,  —  give  it  to  the  soldier-crab  ! 

For  I  find  this  black  mark  impinge  the  man, 

That  he  believes  in  just  the  vile  of  life. 

Low  instinct,  base  pretension,  are  these  truth  ? 

Then,  that  aforesaid  armor,  probity. 

He  figures  in,  is  falsehood  scale  on  scale  ; 

Honor  and  faith,  —  a  lie  and  a  disguise. 

Probably  for  all  livers  in  this  world. 

Certainly  for  himself !     All  say  good  words 

To  who  wiU  hear,  all  do  thereby  bad  deeds 

To  who  must  undergo  ;  so  thrive  mankind  ! 

See  this  habitual  creed  exemplified 

Most  in  the  last  deliberate  act ;  as  last. 

So,  very  sum  and  substance  of  the  soul 

Of  him  that  planned  and  leaves  one  perfect  piece, 


868  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

The  sin  brought  under  jurisdiction  now, 
Even  the  marriage  of  the  man :  this  act 
I  sever  from  his  life  as  sample,  show 
For  Guido's  self,  intend  to  test  him  by, 
As,  from  a  cup  filled  fairly  at  the  fount, 
By  the  components  we  decide  enough 
Or  to  let  flow  as  late,  or  stanch  the  source. 

He  purposes  this  marriage,  I  remark, 

On  no  one  motive  that  should  prompt  thereto  — 

Farthest,  by  consequence,  from  ends  alleged 

Appropriate  to  the  action  ;  so  they  were : 

The  best,  he  knew  and  feigned,  the  worst  he  took. 

Not  one  permissible  impulse  moves  the  man. 

From  the  mere  liking  of  the  eye  and  ear. 

To  the  true  longing  of  the  heart  that  loves, 

No  trace  of  these  :  but  all  to  instigate. 

Is  what  sinks  man  past  level  of  the  brute, 

Whose  appetite  if  brutish  is  a  truth. 

All  is  the  lust  for  money :  to  get  gold,  — 

Why,  lie,  rob,  if  it  must  be,  murder !     Make 

Body  and  soul  wring  gold  out,  lured  within 

The  clutch  of  hate  by  love,  the  trap's  pretence  ! 

What  good  else  get  from  bodies  and  from  souls  ? 

This  got,  there  were  some  life  to  lead  thereby, 

—  What,  where  or  how,  appreciate  those  who  tell 

How  the  toad  lives  :  it  lives,  —  enough  for  me ! 

To  get  this  good — with  but  a  groan  or  so. 

Then,  silence  of  the  victims  —  were  the  feat. 

He  foresaw,  made  a  picture  in  his  mind,  — 

Of  father  and  mother  stunned  and  echoless 

To  the  blow,  as  they  lie  staring  at  fate's  jaws 

Their  folly  danced  into,  till  the  woe  fell ; 

Edged  in  a  month  by  strenuous  cruelty 

From  even  the  poor  nook  whence  they  watched  the  wolf 

Feast  on  their  heart,  the  lamb-like  child  his  prey  ; 

Plundered  to  the  last  remnant  of  their  wealth, 

(What  daily  pittance  pleased  the  plunderer  dole,) 

Hunted  forth  to  go  hide  head,  starve  and  die. 

And  leave  the  pale  awe-stricken  wife,  past  hope 

Of  help  i'  the  world  now,  mute  and  motionless. 

His  slave,  his  chattel,  to  first  use,  then  destroy. 

All  this,  he  bent  mind  how  to  bring  about. 

Put  plain  in  act  and  life,  as  painted  plain. 

So  have  success,  reach  crown  of  easthly  good, 

In  this  particular  enterprise  of  man. 


THE  POPE  869 

By  marriage  —  undertaken  in  God's  face 
With  all  these  lies  so  opposite  God's  truth, 
For  end  so  other  than  man's  end. 

Thus  schemes 
Guido,  and  thus  would  carry  out  his  scheme  : 
But  when  an  obstacle  first  blocks  the  path, 
When  he  finds  none  may  boast  monopoly 
Of  lies  and  trick  i'  the  tricking  lying  world,  — 
That  sorry  timid  natures,  even  this  sort 
O'  the  Comparini,  want  nor  trick  nor  lie 
Proper  to  the  kind,  —  that  as  the  gor-crow  treats 
The  bramble-finch  so  treats  the  finch  the  moth, 
And  the  great  Guido  is  minutely  matched 
By  this  same  couple,  —  whether  true  or  false 
The  revelation  of  PompDia's  birth, 
Which  in  a  moment  brings  his  scheme  to  nought,  — 
Then,  he  is  piqued,  advances  yet  a  stage, 
Leaves  the  low  region  to  the  finch  and  fly, 
Soars  to  the  zenith  whence  the  fiercer  fowl 
May  dare  the  inimitable  swoop.     I  see. 
He  draws  now  on  the  curious  crime,  the  fine 
Felicity  and  flower  of  wickedness  ; 
Determines,  by  the  utmost  exercise 
Of  violence,  made  safe  and  sure  by  craft. 
To  satiate  malice,  pluck  one  last  arch-pang 
From  the  parents,  else  would  triumph  out  of  reach. 
By  punishing  their  child,  within  reach  yet, 
Who,  by  thought,  word  or  deed,  could  nowise  wrong 
I'  the  matter  that  now  moves  him.     So  plans  he, 
Always  subordinating  (note  the  point !) 
Revenge,  the  manlier  sin,  to  interest 
The  meaner,  —  would  pluck  pang  forth,  but  unclench 
No  gripe  in  the  act,  let  fall  no  money-piece. 
Hence  a  plan  for  so  plaguing,  body  and  soul, 
His  wife,  so  putting,  day  by  day,  hour  by  hour, 
The  untried  torture  to  the  untouched  place, 
As  must  precipitate  an  end  foreseen. 
Goad  her  into  some  plain  revolt,  most  like 
Plunge  upon  patent  suicidal  shame,      , 
Death  to  herself,  damnation  by  rebound 
To  those  whose  hearts  he,  holding  hers,  holds  still : 
Such  plan  as,  in  its  bad  completeness,  shall 
Ruin  the  three  together  and  alike. 
Yet  leave  himself  in  luck  and  liberty. 
No  claim  renounced,  no  right  a  forfeiture, 


370        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

His  person  unendangered,  his  good  fame 
Without  a  flaw,  his  pristine  worth  intact,  — 

■    While  they,  with  all  their  claims  and  rights  that  cling, 
Shall  forthwith  crumble  ofE  him  every  side, 
Scorched  into  dust,  a  plaything  for  the  winds. 
As  when,  in  our  Campagna,  there  is  fired 
The  nest-like  work  that  overruns  a  hut ; 
And,  as  the  thatch  burns  here,  there,  everywhere, 
Even  to  the  ivy  and  wild  vine,  that  bound 
And  blessed  the  home  where  men  were  happy  once, 
There  rises  gradual,  black  amid  the  blaze. 
Some  grim  and  unscathed  nucleus  of  the  nest,  — 
Some  old  malicious  tower,  some  obscene  tomb 
They  thought  a  temple  in  their  ignorance, 
And  clung  about  and  thought  to  lean  upon  — 
There  laughs  it  o'er  their  ravage,  —  where  are  they  ? 
So  did  his  cruelty  burn  life  about. 
And  lay  the  ruin  bare  in  dreadfulness, 
Try  the  persistency  of  torment  so 
Upon  the  wife,  that,  at  extremity, 
Some  crisis  brought  about  by  fire  and  flame, 
The  patient  frenzy-stung  must  needs  break  loose, 
Fly  anyhow,  find  refuge  anywhere. 
Even  in  the  arms  of  who  should  front  her  first, 
No  monster  but  a  man  —  while  nature  shrieked 

"  Or  thus  escape,  or  die !  "     The  spasm  arrived, 
Not  the  escape  by  way  of  sin,  —  O  God, 
Who  shall  pluck  sheep  Thou  boldest,  from  Thy  hand  ? 
Therefore  she  lay  resigned  to  die,  —  so  far 
The  simple  cruelty  was  foiled.     Why  then, 
Craft  to  the  rescue,  let  craft  supplement 
Cruelty  and  show  hell  a  masterpiece ! 
Hence  this  consummate  lie,  this  love-intrigue, 
Unmanly  simulation  of  a  sin. 
With  place  and  time  and  circumstance  to  suit  — 
These  letters  false  beyond  all  forgery  — 
Not  just  handwriting  and  mere  authorship, 
But  false  to  body  and  soul  they  figure  forth  — 
As  though  the  man  had  cut  out  shape  and  shape 
From  fancies  of  that  other  Aretiue, 
To  paste  below  —  incorporate  the  filth 
With  cherub  faces  on  a  missal-page ! 

Whereby  the  man  so  far  attains  his  end 
That  strange  temptation  is  permitted,  —  see  ! 
Pompilia,  wife,  and  Caponsacchi,  priest, 


THE  POPE  371 

Are  brought  together  as  nor  priest  nor  wife 
Should  stand,  and  there  is  passion  in  the  place, 
Power  in  the  air  for  evil  as  for  good, 
Promptings  from  heaven  and  hell,  as  if  the  stars 
Fought  in  their  courses  for  a  fate  to  be. 
Thus  stand  the  wife  and  priest,  a  spectacle, 
I  doubt  not,  to  unseen  assemblage  there. 
No  lamp  wiU  mark  that  window  for  a  shrine, 
No  tablet  signalize  the  terrace,  teach 
New  generations  which  succeed  the  old, 
The  pavement  of  the  street  is  holy  ground ; 
No  bard  describe  in  verse  how  Christ  prevailed 
And  Satan  fell  like  lightning  !     Why  repine  ? 
What  does  the  world,  told  truth,  but  lie  the  more  ? 

A  second  time  the  plot  is  foiled  ;  nor,  now, 

By  corresponding  sin  for  countercUeck, 

No  wile  and  trick  that  baffle  trick  and  wile,  — 

The  play  o'  the  parents  !     Here  the  blot  is  blanched 

By  God's  gift  of  a  purity  of  soul 

That  will  not  take  pollution,  ermine-like 

Armed  from  dishonor  by  its  own  soft  snow. 

Such  was  this  gift  of  God  who  showed  for  once 

How  He  would  have  the  world  go  white  :  it  seems 

As  a  new  attribute  were  born  of  each 

Champion  of  truth,  the  priest  and  wife  I  praise,  — 

As  a  new  safeguard  sprang  up  in  defence 

Of  their  new  noble  nature  :   so  a  thorn 

Comes  to  the  aid  of  and  completes  the  rose  — 

Courage,  to  wit,  no  woman's  gift  nor  priest's, 

I'  the  crisis  ;  might  leaps  vindicating  right. 

See  how  the  strong  aggressor,  bad  and  bold. 

With  every  vantage,  preconcerts  surprise. 

Leaps  of  a  sudden  at  his  victim's  throat 

In  a  byway,  —  how  fares  he  when  face  to  face 

With  Caponsacchi  ?     Who  fights,  who  fears  now  ? 

There  quails  Count  Guido,  armed  to  the  chattering  teeth, 

Cowers  at  the  steadfast  eye  and  quiet  word 

O'  the  Canon  of  the  Pieve !     There  skulks  crime 

Behind  law  called  in  to  back  cowardice  ! 

While  out  of  the  poor  trampled  worm  the  wife. 

Springs  up  a  serpent ! 

But  anon  of  these ! 
Him  I  judge  now,  —  of  him  proceed  to  note, 
Faihng  the  first,  a  second  chance  befriends 


372  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Guido,  gives  pause  ere  punishment  arrive. 

The  law  he  called,  comes,  hears,  adjudicates, 

Nor  does  amiss  i'  the  main,  —  secludes  the  wife 

From  the  husband,  respites  the  oppressed  one,  grants 

Probation  to  the  oppressor,  could  he  know 

The  mercy  of  a  minute's  fiery  purge  ! 

The  furnace-coals  alike  of  public  scorn. 

Private  remorse,  heaped  glowing  on  his  head. 

What  if  —  the  force  and  guile,  the  ore's  alloy, 

Eliminate,  his  baser  soul  refined  — 

The  lost  be  saved  even  yet,  so  as  by  fire  ? 

Let  him,  rebuked,  go  softly  all  his  days 

And,  when  no  graver  musings  claim  their  due, 

Meditate  on  a  man's  immense  mistake 

Who,  fashioned  to  use  feet  and  walk,  deigns  crawl  — 

Takes  the  unmanly  means  —  ay,  though  to  ends 

Man  scarce  should   make  for,  would  but  reach   througli 

wrong,  — 
May  sin,  but   nowise   needs  shame  manhood  so  : 
Since  fowlers  hawk,  shoot,  nay  and  snare  the  game, 
And  yet  eschew  vile  practice,  nor  find  sport 
In  torch-light  treachery  or  the  luring  owl. 

But  how  hunts  Guido  ?     Why,  the  fraudf ul  trap  — 

Late  spurned  to  ruin  by  the  indignant  feet 

Of  fellows  in  the  chase  who  loved  fair  play  — 

Here  he  picks  up  its  fragments  to  the  least, 

Lades  him  and  hies  to  the  old  lurking-place 

Where  haply  he  may  patch  again,  refit 

The  mischief,  file  its  blunted  teeth  anew. 

Make  sure,  next  time,  first  snap  shall  break  the  bone. 

Craft,  greed  and  violence  complot  revenge : 

Craft,  for  its  quota,  schemes  to  bring  about 

And  seize  occasion  and  be  safe  withal : 

Greed  craves  its  act  may  work  both  far  and  near, 

Crush  the  tree,  branch  and  trunk  and  root  beside, 

Whichever  twig  or  leaf  arrests  a  streak 

Of  possible  sunshine  else  would  coin  itself. 

And  drop  down  one  more  gold  piece  in  the  path: 

Violence  stipulates,  "  Advantage  proved, 

And  safety  sure,  be  pain  the  overplus  ! 

Murder  with  jagged  knife  !     Cut  but  tear  too  ! 

Foiled  oft,  starved  long,  glut  malice  for  amends  ! " 

And  what,  craft's  scheme  ?  scheme  sorrowful  and  strange 

As  though  the  elements,  whom  mercy  checked, 

Had  mustered  hate  for  one  eruption  more. 


THE  POPE  3.7a 

One  final  deluge  to  surprise  the  Ark 

Cradled  and  sleeping  on  its  mountain-top : 

Their  outbreak-signal  —  what  but  the  dove's  coo. 

Back  with  the  olive  in  her  bill  for  news 

Sorrow  was  over  ?     'T  is  an  infant's  birth, 

Guido's  first-born,  his  son  and  heir,  that  gives 

The  occasion  :  other  men  cut  free  their  souls 

From  care  in  such  a  case,  fly  up  in  thanks 

To  God,  reach,  recognize  His  love  for  once  : 

Guido  cries,  "  Soul,  at  last  the  mire  is  thine  ! 

Lie  there  in  likeness  of  a  money-bag. 

My  babe's  birth  so  pins  down  past  moving  now, 

That  I  dare  cut  adrift  the  lives  I  late 

Scrupled  to  touch  lest  thou  escape  with  them ! 

These  parents  and  their  chUd  my  wife,  —  touch  one, 

Lose  all !     Their  rights  determined  on  a  head 

I  could  but  hate,  not  harm,  since  from  each  hair 

Dangled  a  hope  for  me  :  now  —  chance  and  change ! 

No  right  was  in  their  child  but  passes  plain 

To  that  child's  chUd  and  through  such  child  to  me. 

I  am  a  father  now,  —  come  what,  come  will, 

I  represent  my  child ;  he  comes  between  — 

Cuts  sudden  o£E  the  sunshine  of  this  life 

From  those  three :  why,  the  gold  is  in  his  curls ! 

Not  with  old  Pietro's,  Violante's  head. 

Not  his  gray  horror,  her  more  hideous  black  — 

Go  these,  devoted  to  the  knife !  " 

'T  is  done : 
Wherefore  should  mind  misgive,  heart  hesitate  ? 
He  calls  to  counsel,  fashions  certain  four 
Colorless  natures  coimted  clean  till  now, 
—  Rustic  simplicity,  micorrupted  youth. 
Ignorant  virtue !     Here 's  the  gold  o'  the  prime 
When  Saturn  ruled,  shall  shock  our  leaden  day  — 
The  clown  abash  the  courtier !     Mark  it,  bards ! 
The  courtier  tries  his  hand  on  clownship  here, 
Speaks  a  word,  names  a  crime,  appoints  a  price,  — 
Just  breathes  on  what,  sufEused  with  all  himself, 
Is  red-hot  henceforth  past  distinction  now 
I'  the  common  glow  of  hell.     And  thus  they  break 
And  blaze  on  us  at  Rome,  Christ's  birthnight-eve ! 
Oh  angels  that  sang  erst  "  On  the  earth,  peace  ! 
To  man,  good  will !  "  —  such  peace  finds  earth  to-day ! 
After  the  seventeen  hundred  years,  so  man 
Wills  good  to  man,  so  Guido  makes  complete 
His  murder !  what  is  it  I  said  ?  —  cuts  loose 


374  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Three  lives  that  hitherto  he  suffered  cling, 
Simply  because  each  served  to  nail  secure, 
By  a  corner  of  the  money-bag,  his  soul,  — 
Therefore,  lives  sacred  till  the  babe's  first  breath 
O'erweights  them  in  the  balance,  —  off  they  fly  ! 

So  is  the  murder  managed,  sin  conceived 

To  the  full :  and  why  not  crowned  with  triumph  too  ? 

Why  must  the  sin,  conceived  thus,  bring  forth  death  ? 

I  note  how,  within  hair's-breadth  of  escape, 

Impunity  and  the  thing  supposed  success, 

Guido  is  found  when  the  check  comes,  the  change, 

The  monitory  touch  o'  the  tether  —  felt 

By  few,  not  marked  by  many,  named  by  none 

At  the  moment,  only  recognized  aright 

I'  the  fulness  of  the  days,  for  God's,  lest  sin 

Exceed  the  service,  leap  the  line  :  such  check  — 

A  secret  which  this  life  finds  hard  to  keep, 

And,  often  guessed,  is  never  quite  revealed  — 

Needs  must  trip  Guido  on  a  stumbling-block 

Too  vulgar,  too  absurdly  plain  i'  the  path ! 

Study  this  single  oversight  of  care, 

This  hebetude  that  marred  sagacity, 

Forgetfulness  of  aU  the  man  best  knew,  — 

How  any  stranger  having  need  to  fly, 

Needs  but  to  ask  and  have  the  means  of  flight. 

Why,  the  first  urchin  tells  you,  to  leave  Rome, 

Get  horses,  you  must  show  the  warrant,  just 

The  banal  scrap,  clerk's  scribble,  a  fair  word  buys, 

Or  foul  one,  if  a  ducat  sweeten  word,  — 

And  straight  authority  will  back  demand, 

Give  you  the  pick  o'  the  post-house  !  —  how  should  he, 

Then,  resident  at  Rome  for  thirty  years, 

Guido,  instruct  a  stranger !     And  himself 

Forgets  just  this  poor  paper  scrap,  wherewith 

Armed,  every  door  he  knocks  at  opens  wide 

To  save  him  :  horsed  and  manned,  with  such  advance 

O'  the  hunt  behind,  why,  't  were  the  easy  task 

Of  hours  told  on  the  fingers  of  one  hand, 

To  reach  the  Tuscan  frontier,  laugh  at  home, 

Light-hearted  with  his  fellows  of  the  place,  — 

Prepared  by  that  strange  shameful  judgment,  that 

Satire  upon  a  sentence  just  pronounced 

By  the  Rota  and  confirmed  by  the  Granduke,  — 

Ready  in  a  circle  to  receive  their  peer, 

Appreciate  his  good  story  how,  when  Rome, 

The  Pope-King  and  the  populace  of  priests 


THE  POPE  375 

Made  common  cause  with  their  confederate 

The  other  priestling  who  seduced  his  wife, 

He,  all  unaided,  wiped  out  the  affront 

With  decent  bloodshed  and  could  face  his  friends, 

Frolic  it  in  the  world's  eye.     Ay,  such  tale 

Missed  such  applause,  and  by  such  oversight ! 

So,  tired  and  footsore,  those  blood-flustered  five 

"Went  reeling  on  the  road  through  dark  and  cold, 

The  few  permissible  miles,  to  sink  at  length. 

Wallow  and  sleep  in  the  first  wayside  straw, 

As  the  other  herd  quenched,  i'  the  wash  o'  the  wave, 

—  Each  swine,  the  devil  inside  him  :  so  slept  they, 

And  so  were  caught  and  caged  —  all  through  one  trip, 

One  touch  of  fool  in  Guido  the  astute  ! 

He  curses  the  omission,  I  surmise, 

More  than  the  murder.     Why,  thou  fool  and  blind, 

It  is  the  mercy-stroke  that  stops  thy  fate. 

Hamstrings  and  holds  thee  to  thy  hurt,  —  but  how  ? 

On  the  edge  o'  the  precipice !     One  minute  more. 

Thou  hadst  gone  farther  and  fared  worse,  my  son, 

Fathoms  down  on  the  flint  and  fire  beneath ! 

Thy  comrades  each  and  aU  were  of  one  mind. 

Thy  murder  done,  to  straightway  murder  thee 

In  turn,  because  of  promised  pay  witliheld. 

So,  to  the  last,  greed  found  itself  at  odds 

With  craft  in  thee,  and,  proving  conqueror, 

Had  sent  thee,  the  same  night  that  crowned  thy  hope, 

Thither  where,  this  same  day,  I  see  thee  not. 

Nor,  through  God's  mercy,  need,  to-morrow,  see. 

Such  I  find  Guido,  midmost  blotch  of  black 

Discernible  in  this  group  of  clustered  crimes 

Huddling  together  in  the  cave  they  call 

Their  palace,  outraged  day  thus  penetrates. 

Around  bim  ranged,  now  close  and  now  remote, 

Prominent  or  obscure  to  meet  the  needs 

O'  the  mage  and  master,  I  detect  each  shape 

Subsidiary  i'  the  scene  nor  loathed  the  less, 

All  alike  colored,  aU.  descried  akin 

By  one  and  the  same  pitchy  furnace  stirred 

At  the  centre  :  see,  they  lick  the  master's  hand,  — 

This  fox-faced  horrible  priest,  this  brother-brute 

The  Abate,  —  why,  mere  wolfishness  looks  well, 

Guido  stands  honest  in  the  red  o'  the  flame, 

Beside  this  yellow  that  would  pass  for  white. 

Twice  Guido,  all  waft  but  no  violence, 


376  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

This  copier  of  the  mien  and  gait  and  garb 

Of  Peter  and  Paul,  that  he  may  go  disguised, 

Rob  halt  and  lame,  sick  folk  i'  the  temple-porch ! 

Armed  with  religion,  fortified  by  law, 

A  man  of  peace,  who  trims  the  midnight  lamp 

And  turns  the  classic  page  —  and  all  for  craft, 

All  to  work  harm  with,  yet  incur  no  scratch  ! 

While  Guido  brings  the  struggle  to  a  close, 

Paul  steps  back  the  due  distance,  clear  o'  the  trap 

He  builds  and  baits.     Guido  I  catch  and  judge  ; 

Paul  is  past  reach  in  this  world  and  my  time  : 

That  is  a  case  rsserved.     Pass  to  the  next. 

The  boy  of  the  brood,  the  young  Girolamo, 

Priest,  Canon,  and  what  more  ?  nor  wolf  nor  fox, 

But  hybrid,  neither  craft  nor  violence 

Wholly,  part  violence  part  craft :  such  cross 

Tempts  speculation  —  will  both  blend  one  day, 

And  prove  hell's  better  product  ?     Or  subside 

And  let  the  simple  quality  emerge. 

Go  on  with  Satan's  service  the  old  way  ? 

Meanwhile,  what  promise,  —  what  performance  too ! 

For  there 's  a  new  distinctive  touch,  I  see. 

Lust  —  lacking  in  the  two  —  hell's  own  blue  tint 

That  gives  a  character  and  marks  the  man 

More  than  a  match  for  yellow  and  red.     Once  more, 

A  case  reserved  :  why  should  I  doubt  ?     Then  comes 

The  gaunt  gray  nightmare  in  the  furthest  smoke. 

The  hag  that  gave  these  three  abortions  birth, 

Unmotherly  mother  and  unwomanly 

Woman,  that  near  turns  motherhood  to  shame, 

Womanliness  to  loathing  :  no  one  word, 

No  gesture  to  curb  cruelty  a  whit 

More  than  the  she-pard  thwarts  her  playsome  whelps 

Trying  their  milk-teeth  on  the  soft  o'  the  throat 

O'  the  first  fawn,  flung,  with  those  beseeching  eyes, 

Flat  in  the  covert !     How  should  she  but  couch, 

Lick  the  dry  lips,  unsheathe  the  blunted  claw. 

Catch  'twixt  her  placid  eyewinks  at  what  chance 

Old  bloody  half-forgotten  dream  may  flit. 

Born  when  herself  was  novice  to  the  taste. 

The  while  she  lets  youth  take  its  pleasure.     Last, 

These  God-abandoned  wretched  lumps  of  life, 

These  four  companions,  —  country-folk  this  time. 

Not  tainted  by  the  unwholesome  civic  breath. 

Much  less  the  curse  o'  the  court !     Mere  striplings  too. 

Fit  to  do  human  nature  justice  still ! 


THE  POPE  2,11 

Surely  when  impudence  in  Guide's  shape 
Shall  propose  crime  and  profBer  money's-worth 
To  these  stout  taU  rough  bright-eyed  black-haired  boys, 
The  blood  shall  bound  in  answer  to  each  cheek 
Before  the  indignant  outcry  break  from  lip  ! 
Are  these  i'  the  mood  to  murder,  hardly  loosed 
From  healthy  autumn-finish  of  ploughed  glebe. 
Grapes  in  the  barrel,  work  at  happy  end, 
And  winter  near  with  rest  and  Christmas  play  ? 
How  greet  they  Guido  with  his  final  task  — 
(As  if  he  but  proposed  "  One  vineyard  more 
To  dig,  ere  frost  come,  then  relax  indeed !  ") 
'  Anywhere,  anyhow  and  anywhy, 
Murder  me  some  three  people,  old  and  young. 
Ye  never  heard  the  names  of,  —  and  be  paid 
So  much  !  "     And  the  whole  four  accede  at  once. 
Demur  ?     Do  cattle  bidden  march  or  halt  ? 
Is  it  some  lingering  habit,  old  fond  faith 
I'  the  lord  o'  the  land,  instructs  them,  —  birthright  badge 
Of  feudal  tenure  claims  its  slaves  again  ? 
Not  so  at  all,  thou  noble  human  heart ! 
All  is  done  purely  for  the  pay,  —  which,  earned, 
And  not  forthcoming  at  the  instant,  makes 
Religion  heresy,  and  the  lord  o'  the  land 
Fit  subject  for  a  murder  in  his  turn. 
The  patron  with  cut  throat  and  rifled  purse, 
Deposited  i'  the  roadside-ditch,  his  due, 
Nought  hinders  each  good  fellow  trudging  home, 
The  heavier  by  a  piece  or  two  in  poke, 
And  so  with  new  zest  to  the  common  life, 
Mattock  and  spade,  plough-tail  and  wagon-shaft, 
Till  some  such  other  piece  of  luck  betide. 
Who  knows  ?     Since  this  is  a  mere  start  in  life, 
And  none  of  them  exceeds  the  twentieth  year. 
Nay,  more  i'  the  background  yet  ?      Unnoticed  forms 
Claim  to  be  classed,  subordinately  vile  ? 
Complacent  lookers-on  that  laugh,  —  perchance 
Shake  head  as  their  friend's  horse-play  grows  too  rough 
With  the  mere  child  he  manages  amiss  — 
But  would  not  interfere  and  make  bad  worse 
For  twice  the  fractious  tears  and  prayers  :  thou  know'st 
Civility  better,  Marzi-Medici, 
Governor  for  thy  kinsman  the  Granduke ! 
Fit  representative  of  law,  man's  lamp 
I'  the  magistrate's  grasp  full-flare,  no  rushlight-end 
Sputtering  'twixt  thumb  and  finger  of  the  priest ! 


878  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Whose  answer  to  the  couple's  cry  for  help 

Is  a  threat,  —  whose  remedy  of  Pompilia's  wrong, 

A  shrug  o'  the  shoulder,  and  facetious  word 

Or  wink,  traditional  with  Tuscan  wits, 

To  Guido  in  the  doorway.     Laud  to  law  ! 

The  wife  is  pushed  back  to  the  husband,  he 

Who  knows  how  these  home-squabblings  persecute 

People  who  have  the  public  good  to  mind, 

And  work  best  with  a  silence  in  the  court ! 

Ah,  but  I  save  my  word  at  least  for  thee, 
Archbishop,  who  art  under,  i'  the  Church, 
As  I  am  under  God,  —  thou,  chosen  by  both 
To  do  the  shepherd's  office,  feed  the  sheep  — 
How  of  this  lamb  that  panted  at  thy  foot 
While  the  wolf  pressed  on  her  within  crook's  reach  ? 
Wast  thou  the  hireling  that  did  turn  and  flee  ? 
With  thee  at  least  anon  the  little  word ! 

Such  denizens  o'  the  cave  now  cluster  round 

And  heat  the  furnace  sevenfold  :  time  indeed 

A  bolt  from  heaven  should  cleave  roof  and  clear  place, 

Transfix  and  show  the  world,  suspiring  flame. 

The  main  offender,  scar  and  brand  the  rest 

Hurrying,  each  miscreant  to  his  hole :  then  flood 

And  purify  the  scene  with  outside  day  — 

Which  yet,  in  the  absolutest  drench  of  dark. 

Ne'er  wants  a  witness,  some  stray  beauty-beam 

To  the  despair  of  hell. 

First  of  the  first, 
Such  I  pronounce  Pompilia,  then  as  now 
Perfect  in  whiteness  :  stoop  thou  down,  my  child, 
Give  one  good  moment  to  the  poor  old  Pope 
Heart-sick  at  having  all  his  world  to  blame  — 
Let  me  look  at  thee  in  the  flesh  as  erst. 
Let  me  enjoy  the  old  clean  linen  garb. 
Not  the  new  splendid  vesture  !     Armed  and  crowned, 
Would  Michael,  yonder,  be,  nor  crowned  nor  armed. 
The  less  pre-eminent  angel  ?     Everywhere 
I  see  in  the  world  the  intellect  of  man. 
That  sword,  the  energy  his  subtle  spear. 
The  knowledge  which  defends  him  like  a  shield  — 
Everywhere  ;  but  they  make  not  up,  I  think, 
The  marvel  of  a  soul  like  thine,  earth's  flower 
She  holds  up  to  the  softened  gaze  of  God  ! 


THE  POPE  379 

It  was  not  given  Pompilia  to  know  much, 

Speak  much,  to  write  a  hook,  to  move  mankind, 

Be  memorized  by  who  records  my  time. 

Yet  if  in  purity  and  patience,  if 

In  faith  held  fast  despite  the  plucking  fiend, 

Safe  like  the  signet  stone  with  the  new  name 

That  saints  are  known  by,  —  if  in  right  returned 

For  wrong,  most  pardon  for  worst  injury. 

If  there  be  any  virtue,  any  praise,  — 

Then  will  this  woman-child  have  proved  —  who  knows  ?  — 

Just  the  one  prize  vouchsafed  unworthy  me, 

Seven  years  a  gardener  of  the  untoward  ground 

I  till,  —  this  earth,  my  sweat  and  blood  manure 

All  the  long  day  that  barrenly  grows  dusk : 

At  least  one  blossom  makes  me  proud  at  eve 

Born  'mid  the  briers  of  my  enclosure  !     Still 

(Oh,  here  as  elsewhere,  nothingness  of  man !) 

Those  be  the  plants,  imbedded  yonder  South 

To  mellow  in  the  morning,  those  made  fat 

By  the  master's  eye,  that  yield  such  timid  leaf. 

Uncertain  bud,  as  product  of  his  pains  ! 

While  —  see  how  this  mere  chance-sown,  cleft-nursed  seed, 

That  sprang  up  by  the  wayside  'neath  the  foot 

Of  the  enemy,  this  breaks  all  into  blaze. 

Spreads  itself,  one  wide  glory  of  desire 

To  incorporate  the  whole  great  sun  it  loves 

From  the  inch-height  whence  it  looks  and  longs !    My  flower, 

My  rose,  I  gather  for  the  breast  of  God, 

This  I  praise  most  in  thee,  where  all  I  praise, 

That  having  been  obedient  to  the  end 

According  to  the  light  allotted,  law 

Prescribed  thy  life,  stUl  tried,  still  standing  test,  — 

Dutiful  to  the  foohsh  parents  first, 

Submissive  next  to  the  bad  husband,  —  nay. 

Tolerant  of  those  meaner  miserable 

That  did  his  bests,  eked  out  the  dole  of  pain,  — 

Thou,  patient  thus,  couldst  rise  from  law  to  law. 

The  old  to  the  new,  promoted  at  one  cry 

O'  the  trump  of  God  to  the  new  service,  not 

To  longer  bear,  but  henceforth  fight,  be  found 

Sublime  in  new  impatience  with  the  foe ! 

Endure  man  and  obey  God :  plant  firm  foot 

On  neck  of  man,  tread  man  into  the  hell 

Meet  for  him,  and  obey  God  all  the  more  ! 

Oh  child  that  didst  despise  thy  life  so  much 

When  it  seemed  only  thine  to  keep  or  lose, 


380  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

How  the  fine  ear  felt  fall  the  first  low  word 
"  Value  Ufe,  and  preserve  life  for  My  sake  ! " 
Thou  didst  .  .  .  how  shall  I  say  ?  .  .  .  receive  so  long 
The  standing  ordinance  of  God  on  earth, 
What  wonder  if  the  novel  claim  had  clashed 
With  old  requirement,  seemed  to  sup*sede 
Too  much  the  customary  law  ?     But,  brave, 
Thou  at  first  prompting  of  what  I  call  God, 
And  fools  call  Nature,  didst  hear,  comprehend, 
Accept  the  obligation  laid  on  thee. 
Mother  elect,  to  save  the  unborn  child, 
As  brute  and  bird  do,  reptile  and  the  fly, 
Ay  and,  I  nothing  doubt,  even  tree,  shrub,  plant 
And  flower  o'  the  field,  all  in  a  common  pact 
To  worthily  defend  the  trust  of  trusts. 
Life  from  the  Ever  Living :  —  didst  resist  — 
Anticipate  the  office  that  is  mine  — 
And  with  his  own  sword  stay  the  upraised  arm, 
The  endeavor  of  the  wicked,  and  defend 
Him  who  —  again  in  my  default  —  was  there 
For  visible  providence :  one  less  true  than  thou 
To  touch,  i'  the  past,  less  practised  in  the  right, 
Approved  less  far  in  aU  docility 
To  all  instruction,  —  how  had  such  an  one 
Made  scruple  "  Is  this  motion  a  decree  ?  " 
It  was  authentic  to  the  experienced  ear 
0'  the  good  and  faithful  servant.     Go  past  me 
And  get  thy  praise,  —  and  be  not  far  to  seek 
Presently  when  I  follow  if  I  may  ! 

And  surely  not  so  very  much  apart 

Need  I  place  thee,  my  warrior-priest,  —  in  whom 

What  if  I  gain  the  other  rose,  the  gold. 

We  grave  to  imitate  God's  miracle. 

Greet  monarchs  with,  good  rose  in  its  degree  ? 

Irregular  noble  scapegrace  —  son  the  same  ! 

Faulty  —  and  peradventure  ours  the  fault 

Who  still  misteach,  mislead,  throw  hook  and  line. 

Thinking  to  land  leviathan  forsooth, 

Tame  the  scaled  neck,  play  with  him  as  a  bird. 

And  bind  him  for  our  maidens  !     Better  bear 

The  King  of  Pride  go  wantoning  awhile, 

Unplagued  by  cord  in  nose  and  thorn  in  jaw, 

Through  deep  to  deep,  followed  by  all  that  shine, 

Churning  the  blackness  hoary :    He  who  made 

The  comely  terror.  He  shall  make  the  sword 


THE  POPE  381 

To  match  that  piece  of  netherstone  his  heart, 

Ay,  nor  miss  praise  thereby  ;  who  else  shut  fire 

I'  the  stone,  to  leap  from  mouth  at  sword's  first  stroke, 

In  lamps  of  love  and  faith,  the  chivalry 

That  dares  the  right  and  disregards  alike 

The  yea  and  nay  o'  the  world  ?     Self-sacrifice,  — 

"What  if  an  idol  took  it  ?     Ask  the  Church 

Why  she  was  wont  to  turn  each  Venus  here,  — 

Poor  Rome  perversely  lingered  round,  despite 

Instruction,  for  the  sake  of  purblind  love,  — 

Into  Madonna's  shape,  and  waste  no  whit 

Of  aught  so  rare  on  earth  as  gratitude  ! 

All  this  sweet  savor  was  not  ours  but  thine, 

Nard  of  the  rock,  a  natural  wealth  we  name 

Incense,  and  treasure  up  as  food  for  saints. 

When  flung  to  us  —  whose  function  was  to  give 

Not  find  the  costly  perfume.     Do  I  smUe  ? 

Nay,  Caponsacchi,  much  I  find  amiss, 

Blameworthy,  punishable  in  this  freak 

Of  thine,  this  youth  prolonged,  though  age  was  ripe, 

This  masquerade  in  sober  day,  with  change 

Of  motley  too,  —  now  hypocrite's  disguise. 

Now  fool's-costume :  which  lie  was  least  like  truth, 

Which  the  ungainlier,  more  discordant  garb, 

With  that  symmetric  soul  inside  my  son, 

The  churchman's  or  the  worldling's,  —  let  him  judge, 

Our  adversary  who  enjoys  the  task ! 

I  rather  chronicle  the  healthy  rage,  — 

When  the  first  moan  broke  from  the  martyr-maid 

At  that  uncaging  of  the  beasts,  —  made  bare 

My  athlete  on  the  instant,  gave  such  good 

Great  undisguised  leap  over  post  and  pale 

Right  into  the  mid-cirque,  free  fighting-place. 

There  may  have  been  rash  stripping  —  every  rag 

Went  to  the  winds,  —  infringement  manifold 

Of  laws  prescribed  pudicity,  I  fear. 

In  this  impulsive  and  prompt  self -display ! 

Ever  such  tax  comes  of  the  foolish  youth ; 

Men  mulct  the  wiser  manhood,  and  suspect 

No  veritable  star  swims  out  of  cloud. 

Bear  thou  such  imputation,  undergo 

The  penalty  I  nowise  dare  relax,  — 

Conventional  chastisement  and  rebuke. 

But  for  the  outcome,  the  brave  starry  birth 

Conciliating  earth  with  all  that  cloud, 

Thank  heaven  as  I  do  !     Ay,  such  championship 


382  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOCK 

Of  God  at  first  blush,  such  prompt  cheery  thud 
Of  glove  on  ground  that  answers  ringingly 
The  challenge  of  the  false  knight,  —  watch  we  long, 
And  wait  we  vainly  for  its  gallant  like 
From  those  appointed  to  the  service,  sworn 
His  body-guard  with  pay  and  privilege  — 
White-cinct,  because  in  white  walks  sanctity, 
Eed-socked,  how  else  proclaim  fine  scorn  of  flesh, 
Unchariness  of  blood  when  blood  faith  begs  ! 
Where  are  the  men-at-arms  with  cross  on  coat  ? 
Aloof,  bewraying  their  attire  :  whilst  thou 
In  mask  and  motley,  pledged  to  dance  not  fight, 
Sprang'st  forth  the  hero  !     In  thought,  word  and  deed, 
How  throughout  all  thy  warfare  thou  wast  pure, 
I  find  it  easy  to  believe  :  and  if 
At  any  fateful  moment  of  the  strange 
Adventure,  the  strong  passion  of  that  strait, 
Fear  and  surprise,  may  have  revealed  too  much,  — 
As  when  a  thundrous  midnight,  with  black  air 
That  burns,  raindrops  that  blister,  breaks  a  spell, 
Draws  out  the  excessive  virtue  of  some  sheathed 
Shut  unsuspected  flower  that  hoards  and  hides 
Immensity  of  sweetness,  —  so,  perchance. 
Might  the  surprise  and  fear  release  too  much 
The  perfect  beauty  of  the  body  and  soul 
Thou  savedst  in  thy  passion  for  God's  sake, 
He  who  is  Pity.     Was  the  trial  sore  ? 
Temptation  sharp  ?     Thank  God  a  second  time ! 
Why  comes  temptation  but  for  man  to  meet 
And  master  and  make  crouch  beneath  his  foot, 
And  so  be  pedestaUed  in  triumph  ?     Pray 
"  Lead  us  into  no  such  temptations.  Lord  !  " 
Yea,  but,  O  Thou  whose  servants  are  the  bold, 
Lead  such  temptations  by  the  head  and  hair. 
Reluctant  dragons,  up  to  who  dares  fight. 
That  so  he  may  do  battle  and  have  praise ! 
Do  I  not  see  the  praise  ?  —  that  whUe  thy  mates 
Bound  to  deserve  i'  the  matter,  prove  at  need 
Unprofitable  through  the  very  pains 
We  gave  to  train  them  well  and  start  them  fair,  — 
Are  found  too  stifE,  with  standing  ranked  and  ranged. 
For  onset  in  good  earnest,  too  obtuse 
Of  ear,  through  iteration  of  command. 
For  catching  quick  the  sense  of  the  real  cry,  — 
Thou,  whose  sword-hand  was  used  to  strike  the  lute, 
Whose  sentry-station  graced  some  wanton's  gate. 


THE  POPE  383 

Thou  didst  push  forward  and  show  mettle,  shame 
The  laggards,  and  retrieve  the  day.     Well  done  ! 
Be  glad  thou  hast  let  light  into  the  world, 
Through  that  irregular  breach  o'  the  boundary,  —  see 
The  same  upon  thy  path  and  march  assured, 
Learning  anew  the  use  of  soldiership, 
Self-abnegation,  freedom  from  all  fear. 
Loyalty  to  the  life's  end !     Ruminate, 
Deserve  the  initiatory  spasm,  —  once  more 
Work,  be  unhappy  but  bear  Ufe,  my  son ! 

And  troop  you,  somewhere  'twixt  the  best  and  worst, 

"Where  crowd  the  indifferent  product,  all  too  poor 

Makeshift,  starved  samples  of  humanity ! 

Father  and  mother,  huddle  there  and  hide ! 

A  gracious  eye  may  find  you !     Foul  and  fair, 

Sadly  mixed  natures  :  self-indulgent,  —  yet 

Self-sacrificing  too  :  how  the  love  soars. 

How  the  craft,  avarice,  vanity  and  spite 

Sink  again !     So  they  keep  the  middle  course, 

Slide  into  silly  crime  at  unaware. 

Slip  back  upon  the  stupid  virtue,  stay 

Nowhere  enough  for  being  classed,  I  hope 

And  fear.     Accept  the  swift  and  rueful  death. 

Taught,  somewhat  sternlier  than  is  wont,  what  waits 

The  ambiguous  creature,  —  how  the  one  black  tuft 

Steadies  the  aim  of  the  arrow  just  as  well 

As  the  wide  faultless  white  on  the  bird's  breast ! 

Nay,  you  were  punished  in  the  very  part 

That  looked  most  pure  of  speck,  —  't  was  honest  love 

Betrayed  you,  —  did  love  seem  most  worthy  pains, 

Challenge  such  purging,  since  ordained  survive 

When  all  the  rest  of  you  was  done  with  ?     Go ! 

Never  again  elude  the  choice  of  tints  ! 

White  shall  not  neutralize  the  black,  nor  good 

Compensate  bad  in  man,  absolve  him  so  : 

Life's  business  being  just  the  terrible  choice. 

So  do  I  see,  pronounce  on  all  and  some 
Grouped  for  my  judgment  now,  —  profess  no  doubt 
While  I  pronounce  :  dark,  difficult  enough 
The  human  sphere,  yet  eyes  grow  sharp  by  use, 
I  find  the  truth,  dispart  the  shine  from  shade, 
As  a  mere  man  may,  with  no  special  touch 
O'  the  lynx-gift  in  each  ordinary  orb  : 
Nay,  if  the  popular  notion  class  me  right, 


384        THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

One  of  wellnigh  decayed  intelligence,  — 

What  of  that  ?     Through  hard  labor  and  good  wUl, 

And  liabitude  that  gives  a  blind  man  sight 

At  the  practised  finger-ends  of  him,  I  do 

Discern,  and  dare  decree  in  consequence, 

Whatever  prove  the  peril  of  mistake. 

Whence,  then,  this  quite  new  quick  cold  thrill,  —  cloud-like, 

This  keen  dread  creeping  from  a  quartfer  scarce 

Suspected  in  the  skies  I  nightly  scan  ? 

What  slacks  the  tense  nerve,  saps  the  wound-up  spring 

Of  the  act  that  should  and  shall  be,  sends  the  mount 

And  mass  o'  the  whole  man's-strength,  —  conglobed  so  late  - 

Shudderingly  into  dust,  a  moment's  work  ? 

While  I  stand  firm,  go  fearless,  in  this  world, 

For  this  life  recognize  and  arbitrate, 

Touch  and  let  stay,  or  else  remove  a  thing, 

Judge  "  This  is  right,  this  object  out  of  place," 

Candle  in  hand  that  helps  me  and  to  spare,  — 

What  if  a  voice  deride  me,  "  Perk  and  pry  ! 

Brighten  each  nook  with  thine  intelligence ! 

Play  the  good  householder,  ply  man  and  maid 

With  tasks  prolonged  into  the  midnight,  test 

Their  work  and  nowise  stint  of  the  due  wage 

Each  worthy  worker :  but  with  gyves  and  whip 

Pay  thou  misprision  of  a  single  point 

Plain  to  thy  happy  self  who  lift'st  the  light, 

Lament'st  the  darkling,  —  bold  to  all  beneath ! 

What  if  thyself  adventure,  now  the  place 

Is  purged  so  well  ?     Leave  pavement  and  mount  roof^ 

Look  round  thee  for  the  light  of  the  upper  SKy, 

The  fire  which  lit  thy  fire  which  finds  default 

In  Guido  Franceschini  to  his  cost ! 

What  if,  above  in  the  domain  of  light. 

Thou  miss  the  accustomed  signs,  remark  eclipse  ? 

Shalt  thou  still  gaze  on  ground  nor  lift  a  lid,  — 

Steady  in  thy  superb  prerogative. 

Thy  inch  of  inkling,  —  nor  once  face  the  doubt 

I'  the  sphere  above  thee,  darkness  to  be  felt  ?  " 

Yet  my  poor  spark  had  for  its  source,  the  sun ; 

Thither  I  sent  the  great  looks  which  compel 

Light  from  its  fount :  all  that  I  do  and  azf 

Comes  from  the  truth,  or  seen  or  else  surmised, 

Remembered  or  divined,  as  mere  man  may  : 

I  know  just  so,  nor  otherwise.     As  I  know, 

I  speak,  —  what  should  I  know,  then,  and  how  speak 


THE  POPE  385 

Were  there  a  wild  mistake  of  eye  or  brain 

As  to  recorded  governance  above  ? 

If  my  own  breath,  only,  blew  coal  alight 

I  styled  celestial  and  the  morning-star  ? 

I,  who  in  this  world  act  resolvedly. 

Dispose  of  men,  their  bodies  and  their  souls, 

As  they  acknowledge  or  gainsay  the  light 

I  show  them,  —  shall  I  too  lack  courage  ?  —  leave 

I,  too,  the  post  of  me,  like  those  I  blame  ? 

Refuse,  with  kindred  inconsistency. 

To  grapple  danger  whereby  souls  grow  strong  ? 

I  am  near  the  end  ;  but  still  not  at  the  end ; 

All  to  the  very  end  is  trial  in  life  : 

At  this  stage  is  the  trial  of  my  soul 

Danger  to  face,  or  danger  to  refuse  ? 

Shall  I  dare  try  the  doubt  now,  or  not  dare  ? 

0  Thou,  —  as  represented  here  to  me 
In  such  conception  as  my  soul  allows,  — 
Under  Thy  measureless,  my  atom  width  !  — 
Man's  mind,  what  is  it  but  a  convex  glass 
Wherein  are  gathered  all  the  scattered  points 
Picked  out  of  the  immensity  of  sky. 

To  reunite  there,  be  our  heaven  for  earth, 

Our  known  unknown,  our  God  revealed  to  man  ? 

Existent  somewhere,  somehow,  as  a  whole ; 

Here,  as  a  whole  proportioned  to  our  sense, — 

There,  (which  is  nowhere,  speech  must  babble  thus!) 

In  the  absolute  immensity,  the  whole 

Appreciable  solely  by  Thyself,  — 

Here,  by  the  little  mind  of  man,  reduced 

To  littleness  that  suits  his  faculty, 

In  the  degree  appreciable  too ; 

Between  Thee  and  ourselves  — nay  even,  again, 

Below  us,  to  the  extreme  of  the  minute. 

Appreciable  by  how  many  and  what  diverse 

Modes  of  the  life  Thou  madest  be  !  (why  live 

Except  for  love,  —  how  love  unless  they  know  ?) 

Each  of  them,  only  filling  to  the  edge. 

Insect  or  angel,  his  just  length  and  breadth, 

Due  facet  of  reflection,  —  full,  no  less, 

Angel  or  insect,  as  Thou  framedst  things. 

1  it  is  who  have  been  appointed  here 

To  represent  Thee,  in  my  turn,  on  earth. 
Just  as,  if  new  philosophy  know  aught. 
This  one  earth,  out  of  all  the  multitude 


386  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Of  peopled  worlds,  as  stars  are  now  supposed,  — 

Was  chosen,  and  no  sun-star  of  the  swarm, 

For  stage  and  scene  of  Thy  transcendent  act 

Beside  which  even  the  creation  fades 

Into  a  puny  exercise  of  power. 

Choice  of  the  world,  choice  of  the  thing  I  am, 

Both  emanate  alike  from  Thy  dread  play 

Of  operation  outside  this  our  sphere 

Where  things  are  classed  and  counted  small  or  great,  — 

Incomprehensibly  the  choice  is  Thine  ! 

I  therefore  bow  my  head  and  take  Thy  place. 

There  is,  beside  the  works,  a  tale  of  Thee 

In  the  world's  mouth,  which  I  find  credible  : 

I  love  it  with  my  heart :  unsatisfied, 

I  try  it  with  my  reason,  nor  discept 

From  any  point  I  probe  and  pronounce  sound. 

Mind  is  not  matter  nor  from  matter,  but 

Above,  — leave  matter  then,  proceed  with  mind  ! 

Man's  be  the  mind  recognized  at  the  height,  — 

Leave  the  inferior  minds  and  look  at  man  ! 

Is  he  the  strong,  intelligent  and  good 

Up  to  his  own  conceivable  height  ?     Nowise. 

Enough  o'  the  low,  —  soar  the  conceivable  height, 

Find  cause  to  match  the  effect  in  evidence. 

The  work  i'  the  world,  not  man's  but  God's  ;  leave  man ! 

Conjecture  of  the  worker  by  the  work : 

Is  there  strength  there  ?  —  enough :  intelligence  ? 

Ample :  but  goodness  in  a  like  degree  ? 

Not  to  the  human  eye  in  the  present  state, 

An  isoscele  deficient  in  the  base. 

What  lacks,  then,  of  perfection  fit  for  God 

But  just  the  instance  which  this  tale  supplies 

Of  love  without  a  limit  ?     So  is  strength, 

So  is  intelligence ;  let  love  be  so, 

Unlimited  in  its  self-sacrifice. 

Then  is  the  tale  true  and  God  shows  complete. 

Beyond  the  tale,  I  reach  into  the  dark, 

Feel  what  I  cannot  see,  and  still  faith  stands : 

I  can  believe  this  dread  machinery 

Of  sin  and  sorrow,  would  confound  me  else. 

Devised  —  all  pain,  at  most  expenditure 

Of  pain  by  Who  devised  pain  —  to  evolve, 

By  new  machinery  in  counterpart. 

The  moral  qualities  of  man  —  how  else  ?  — 

To  make  him  love  in  turn  and  be  beloved, 

Creative  and  self-sacrificing  too, 


THE  POPE  387 

And  thus  eventually  God-Kke,  (ay, 

•  I  have  said  ye  are  Gods,"  —  shall  it  be  said  for  nought  ?) 
Enable  man  to  wring,  from  out  all  pain. 
All  pleasure  for  a  common  heritage 
To  all  eternity :  this  may  be  surmised, 
The  other  is  revealed,  —  whether  a  fact, 
Absolute,  abstract,  independent  truth, 
Historic,  not  reduced  to  suit  man's  mind,  — 
Or  only  truth  reverberate,  changed,  made  pass 
A  spectrum  into  mind,  the  narrow  eye,  — 
The  same  and  not  the  same,  else  unconceived  — 
Though  quite  conceivable  to  the  next  grade 
Above  it  in  intelligence,  —  as  truth 
Easy  to  man  were  blindness  to  the  beast 
By  parity  of  procedure,  —  the  same  truth 
In  a  new  form,  but  changed  in  either  case : 
What  matter  so  intelligence  be  fiUed  ? 
To  a  child,  the  sea  is  angry,  for  it  roars : 
Frost  bites,  else  why  the  tooth-like  fret  on  face  ? 
Man  makes  acoustics  deal  with  the  sea's  wrath, 
Explains  the  choppy  cheek  by  chymic  law,  — 
To  man  and  child  remains  the  same  efEect 
On  drum  of  ear  and  root  of  nose,  change  cause 
Never  so  thoroughly  :  so  my  heart  be  struck. 
What  care  I,  —  by  God's  gloved  hand  or  the  bare  ? 
Nor  do  I  much  perplex  me  with  aught  hard, 
Dubious  in  the  transmitting  of  the  tale,  — 
No,  nor  with  certain  riddles  set  to  solve. 
This  life  is  training  and  a  passage  ;  pass,  — 
Still,  we  march  over  some  flat  obstacle 
We  made  give  way  before  us  ;  solid  truth 
In  front  of  it,  what  motion  for  the  world  ? 
The  moral  sense  grows  but  by  exercise. 
'T  is  even  as  man  grew  probatively 
Initiated  in  Godship,  set  to  make 
A  fairer  moral  world  than  this  he  finds. 
Guess  now  what  shall  be  known  hereafter.     Deal 
Thus  with  the  present  problem  :  as  we  see, 
A  faultless  creature  is  destroyed,  and  sin 
Has  had  its  way  i'  the  world  where  God  should  rule. 
Ay,  but  for  this  irrelevant  circumstance 
Of  inquisition  after  blood,  we  see 
PompiUa  lost  and  Guido  saved  :  how  long  ? 
For  his  whole  life  :  how  much  is  that  whole  life  ? 
We  are  not  babes,  but  know  the  minute's  worth. 
And  feel  that  life  is  large  and  the  world  small, 
So,  wait  till  life  have  passed  from  out  the  world. 


THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Neither  does  this  astonish  at  the  end, 

That  whereas  I  can  so  receive  and  trust, 

Other  men,  made  with  hearts  and  souls  the  same, 

Reject  and  disbelieve,  —  subordinate 

The  future  to  the  present,  —  sin,  nor  fear. 

This  I  refer  still  to  the  foremost  fact, 

Life  is  probation  and  the  earth  no  goal 

But  starting-point  of  man  :  compel  him  strive, 

Which  means,  in  man,  as  good  as  reach  the  goal,  — 

Why  institute  that  race,  his  life,  at  all  ? 

But  this  does  overwhelm  me  with  surprise, 

Touch  me  to  terror,  —  not  that  faith,  the  pearl, 

Should  be  let  lie  by  fishers  wanting  food,  — 

Nor,  seen  and  handled  by  a  certain  few 

Critical  and  contemptuous,  straight  consigned 

To  shore  and  shingle  for  the  pebble  it  proves,  — 

But  that,  when  haply  found  and  known  and  named 

By  the  residue  made  rich  forevermore. 

These,  —  that  these  favored  ones,  should  in  a  trice 

Turn,  and  with  double  zest  go  dredge  for  whelks. 

Mud-worms  that  make  the  savory  soup !     Enough 

O'  the  disbelievers,  see  the  faithful  few  ! 

How  do  the  Christians  here  deport  them,  keep 

Their  robes  of  white  unspotted  by  the  world  ? 

What  is  this  Aretine  Archbishop,  this 

Man  under  me  as  I  am  under  God, 

This  champion  of  the  faith,  I  armed  and  decked. 

Pushed  forward,  put  upon  a  pinnacle. 

To  show  the  enemy  his  victor,  —  see ! 

What 's  the  best  fighting  when  the  couple  close  ? 

PompUia  cries,  "  Protect  me  from  the  wolf  !  " 

He  —  "  No,  thy  Guido  is  rough,  heady,  strong, 

Dangerous  to  disquiet :  let  him  bide  ! 

He  needs  some  bone  to  mumble,  help  amuse 

The  darkness  of  his  den  with  :  so,  the  fawn 

Which  limps  up  bleeding  to  my  foot  and  lies, 

—  Come  to  me,  daughter !  —  tiius  I  throw  him  back !  " 
Have  we  misjudged  here,  over-armed  our  knight. 
Given  gold  and  silk  where  plain  hard  steel  serves  best. 
Enfeebled  whom  we  sought  to  fortify. 

Made  an  archbishop  and  undone  a  saint  ? 

Well,  then,  descend  these  heights,  this  pride  of  life, 

Sit  in  the  ashes  with  a  barefoot  monk 

Who  long  ago  stamped  out  the  worldly  sparks. 

By  fasting,  watching,  stone  cell  and  wire  scourge, 

—  No  such  indulgence  as  unknits  the  strength  — 


THE  POPE  389 

These  breed  the  tight  nerve  and  tough  cuticle, 
And  the  world's  praise  or  blame  runs  riUet-wise 
Off  the  broad  back  and  brawny  breast,  we  know  ! 
He  meets  the  first  cold  sprinkle  of  the  world. 
And  shudders  to  the  marrow.     "  Save  this  child  ? 
Oh,  my  superiors,  oh,  the  Archbishop's  self ! 
Who  was  it  dared  lay  hand  upon  the  ark 
His  betters  saw  fall  nor  put  finger  forth  ? 
Great  ones  could  help  yet  help  not :  why  should  small  ? 
I  break  my  promise  :  let  her  break  her  heart !  " 
These  are  the  Christians  not  the  worldlings,  not 
The  sceptics,  who  thus  battle  for  the  faith ! 
If  foolish  virgins  disobey  and  sleep, 
What  wonder  ?     But,  this  time,  the  wise  that  watch. 
Sell  lamps  and  buy  lutes,  exchange  oil  for  wine. 
The  mystic  Spouse  betrays  the  Bridegroom  here. 
To  our  last  resource,  then !     Since  all  flesh  is  weak, 
Bind  weaknesses  together,  we  get  strength  : 
The  individual  weighed,  found  wanting,  try 
Some  institution,  honest  artifice 
Whereby  the  units  grow  compact  and  firm  ! 
Each  props  the  other,  and  so  stand  is  made 
By  our  embodied  cowards  that  grow  brave. 
The  Monastery  called  of  Convertites, 
Meant  to  help  women  because  these  helped  Christ,  — 
A  thing  existent  only  while  it  acts, 
Does  as  designed,  else  a  nonentity,  — 
For  what  is  an  idea  unrealized  ?  — 
PompUia  is  consigned  to  these  for  help. 
They  do  help  :  they  are  prompt  to  testify 
To  her  pure  life  and  saintly  dying  days. 
She  dies,  and  lo,  who  seemed  so  poor,  proves  rich ! 
What  does  the  body  that  lives  through  helpfulness 
To  women  for  Christ's  sake  ?     The  kiss  turns  bite, 
The  dove's  note  changes  to  the  crow's  cry  :  judge ! 
"  Seeing  that  this  our  Convent  claims  of  right 
What  goods  belong  to  those  we  succor,  be 
The  same  proved  women  of  dishonest  life,  — 
And  seeing  that  this  Trial  made  appear 
Pompilia  was  in  such  predicament,  — 
The  Convent  hereupon  pretends  to  said 
Succession  of  Pompilia,  issues  writ. 
And  takes  possession  by  the  Fisc's  advice." 
Such  is  their  attestation  to  the  cause 
Of  Christ,  who  had  one  saint  at  least,  they  hoped : 
But,  is  a  title-deed  to  filch,  a  corpse 


390  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

To  slander,  and  an  infant-heir  to  cheat  ? 

Christ  must  give  up  his  gains  then  !     They  unsay 

All  the  fine  speeches,  —  who  was  saint  is  whore. 

Why,  scripture  yields  no  parallel  for  this ! 

The  soldiers  only  threw  dice  for  Christ's  coat ; 

We  want  another  legend  of  the  Twelve 

Disputing  if  it  was  Christ's  coat  at  all, 

Claiming  as  prize  the  woof  of  price  —  for  why  ? 

The  Master  was  a  thief,  purloined  the  same, 

Or  paid  for  it  out  of  the  common  bag ! 

Can  it  be  this  is  end  and  outcome,  all 

I  take  with  me  to  show  as  stewardship's  fruit, 

The  best  yield  of  the  latest  time,  this  year 

The  seventeen-hundredth  since  God  died  for  man  ? 

Is  such  effect  proportionate  to  cause  ? 

And  still  the  terror  keeps  on  the  increase 

When  I  perceive  .  .  .  how  can  I  blink  the  fact  ? 

That  the  fault,  the  obduracy  to  good, 

Lies  not  with  the  impracticable  stufE 

Whence  man  is  made,  his  very  nature's  fault, 

As  if  it  were  of  ice  the  moon  may  gild 

Not  melt,  or  stone  't  was  meant  the  sun  should  warm 

Not  make  bear  flowers,  —  nor  ice  nor  stone  to  blame : 

But  it  can  melt,  that  ice,  can  bloom,  that  stone, 

Impassible  to  rule  of  day  and  night ! 

This  terrifies  me,  thus  compelled  perceive, 

Whatever  love  and  faith  we  looked  should  spring 

At  advent  of  the  authoritative  star, 

Which  yet  lie  sluggish,  curdled  at  the  source,  — 

These  have  leapt  forth  profusely  in  old  time. 

These  still  respond  with  promptitude  to-day. 

At  challenge  of  —  what  unacknowledged  powers 

O'  the  air,  what  uncommissioned  meteors,  warmth 

By  law,  and  light  by  rule  should  supersede  ? 

For  see  this  priest,  this  Caponsacchi,  stung 

At  the  first  summons,  —  "  Help  for  honor's  sake. 

Play  the  man,  pity  the  oppressed  !  "  —  no  pause, 

How  does  he  lay  about  him  in  the  midst, 

Strike  any  foe,  right  wrong  at  any  risk, 

All  blindness,  bravery  and  obedience  !  —  blind  ? 

Ay,  as  a  man  would  be  inside  the  sun, 

Delirious  with  the  plenitude  of  light 

Should  interfuse  him  to  the  finger-ends  — 

Let  him  rush  straight,  and  how  shall  he  go  wrong  ? 

Where  are  the  Christians  in  their  panoply  ? 

The  loins  we  girt  about  with  truth,  the  breasts 


THE  POPE  391 

Righteousness  plated  round,  the  shield  of  faith, 
The  helmet  of  salvation,  and  that  sword 
O'  the  Spirit,  even  the  word  of  God,  —  where  these  ? 
Slunk  into  corners  !     Oh,  I  hear  at  once 
Hubbub  of  protestation  !     "  What,  we  monks, 
We  friars,  of  such  an  order,  such  a  rule. 
Have  not  we  fought,  bled,  left  our  martyr-mark 
At  every  point  along  the  boundary-line 
'Twixt  true  and  false,  religion  and  the  world, 
Where  this  or  the  other  dogma  of  our  Church 
Called  for  defence  ?  "     And  I,  despite  myself. 
How  can  I  but  speak  loud  what  truth  speaks  low, 

"  Or  better  than  the  best,  or  nothing  serves  ! 
What  boots  deed,  I  can  cap  and  cover  straight 
With  such  another  doughtiness  to  match. 
Done  at  an  instinct  of  the  natural  man  ?  " 
Immolate  body,  sacrifice  soul  too,  — 
Do  not  these  publicans  the  same  ?     Outstrip  ! 
Or  else  stop  race  you  boast  runs  neck  and  neck, 
You  with  the  wings,  they  with  the  feet,  —  for  shame  I 
Oh,  I  remark  your  diligence  and  zeal ! 
Five  years  long,  now,  rounds  faith  into  my  ears, 

*'  Help  thou,  or  Christendom  is  done  to  death  !  " 
Five  years  since,  in  the  Province  of  To-kien, 
Which  is  in  China  as  some  people  know, 
Maigrot,  my  Vicar  Apostolic  there, 
Having  a  great  qualm,  issues  a  decree. 
Alack,  the  converts  use  as  God's  name,  not 
Tien-chu  but  plain  Tien  or  else  mere  Shang-ti, 
As  Jesuits  please  to  fancy  politic. 
While,  say  Dominicans,  it  calls  down  fire,  -^ 
For  Tien  means  heaven,  and  Shang-ti,  supreme  prince, 
While  Tien-chu  means  the  lord  of  heaven :  all  cry, 

"  There  is  no  business  urgent  for  dispatch 
As  that  tbou  send  a  legate,  specially 
Cardinal  Tournon,  straight  to  Pekin,  there 
To  settle  and  compose  the  difference  !  " 
So  have  I  seen  a  potentate  all  fume 
For  some  infringement  of  his  realm's  just  right, 
Some  menace  to  a  mud-buUt  straw-thatched  farm 
O'  the  frontier  ;  while  inside  the  mainland  lie. 
Quite  undisputed-for  in  soUtude, 
Whole  cities  plague  may  waste  or  famine  sap  : 
What  if  the  sun  crumble,  the  sands  encroach. 
While  he  looks  on  sublimely  at  his  ease  ? 
How  does  their  ruin  touch  the  empire's  bound  ? 


B92  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  is  this  little  all  that  was  to  be  ? 

Where  is  the  gloriously-decisive  change, 

Metamorphosis  the  immeasurable 

Of  human  clay  to  divine  gold,  we  looked 

Should,  in  some  poor  sort,  justify  its  price  ? 

Had  an  adept  of  the  mere  Rosy  Cross 

Spent  his  life  to  consummate  the  Great  Work, 

Would  not  we  start  to  see  the  stuff  it  touched 

Yield  not  a  grain  more  than  the  vulgar  got 

By  the  old  smelting-process  years  ago  ? 

If  this  were  sad  to  see  in  just  the  sage 

Who  should  profess  so  much,  perform  no  more, 

What  is  it  when  suspected  in  that  Power 

Who  undertook  to  make  and  made  the  world, 

Devised  and  did  effect  man,  body  and  soul. 

Ordained  salvation  for  them  both,  and  yet  .  .  . 

Well,  is  the  thing  we  see,  salvation  ? 

Put  no  such  dreadful  question  to  myself, 

Within  whose  circle  of  experience  burns 

The  central  truth,  Power,  Wisdom,  Goodness,  —  God : 

I  must  outlive  a  thing  ere  know  it  dead  : 

When  I  outlive  the  faith  there  is  a  sun. 

When  I  lie,  ashes  to  the  very  soul,  — 

Some  one,  not  I,  must  wail  above  the  heap, 

"  He  died  in  dark  whence  never  morn  arose." 
While  I  see  day  succeed  the  deepest  night  — 

■    How  can  I  speak  but  as  I  know  ?  —  my  speech 
Must  be,  throughout  the  darkness,  "  It  will  end  : 
The  light  that  did  burn,  will  burn !  "     Clouds  obscure  ■ 
But  for  which  obscuration  all  were  bright  ? 
Too  hastily  concluded  !     Sun-sufBused, 
A  cloud  may  soothe  the  eye  made  blind  by  blaze,  — 
Better  the  very  clarity  of  heaven : 
The  soft  streaks  are  the  beautiful  and  dear. 
What  but  the  weakness  in  a  faith  supplies 
The  incentive  to  humanity,  no  strength 
Absolute,  irresistible,  comports  ? 
How  can  man  love  but  what  he  yearns  to  help  ? 
And  that  which  men  think  weakness  within  strength, 
But  angels  know  for  strength  and  stronger  yet  — 
What  were  it  else  but  the  first  things  made  new. 
But  repetition  of  the  miracle, 
The  divine  instance  of  self-sacrifice 
That  never  ends  and  aye  begins  for  man  ? 
So,  never  I  miss  footing  in  the  maze. 
No,  —  I  have  light  nor  fear  the  dark  at  all. 


THE  POPE  393 

But  are  mankind  not  real,  who  pace  outside 

My  petty  circle,  world  that 's  measured  me  ? 

And  when  they  Stumble  even  as  I  stand, 

Have  I  a  right  to  stop  ear  when  they  cry, 

As  they  were  phantoms  who  took  clouds  for  crags, 

Tripped  and  fell,  where  man's  march  might  safely  move  ? 

Beside,  the  cry  is  other  than  a  ghost's, 

When  out  of  the  old  time  there  pleads  some  bard, 

Philosopher,  or  both,  and  —  whispers  not, 

But  words  it  boldly.     V  The  inward  work  and  worth 

Of  any  mind,  what  other  mind  may  judge 

Save  God  who  only  knows  the  thing  He  made, 

The  veritable  service  He  exacts  ? 

It  is  the  outward  product  men  appraise. 

Behold,  an  engine  hoists  a  tower  aloft : 
*  I  looked  that  it  should  move  the  mountain  too  ! '  ' 

Or  else  '  Had  just  a  turret  toppled  down. 

Success  enough  ! '  —  may  say  the  Machinist 

Who  knows  what  less  or  more  result  might  be  : 

But  we,  who  see  that  done  we  cannot  do, 
'  A  feat  beyond  man's  force,'  we  men  must  say. 

Kegard  me  and  that  shake  I  gave  the  world ! 

I  was  born,  not  so  long  before  Christ's  birth 

As  Christ's  birth  haply  did  precede  thy  day,  — 

But  many  a  watch  before  the  star  of  dawn : 

Therefore  I  lived,  —  it  is  thy  creed  affirms, 

Pope  Innocent,  who  art  to  answer  me !  — 

Under  conditions,  nowise  to  escape, 

Whereby  salvation  was  impossible. 

Each  impulse  to  achieve  the  good  and  fair, 

Each  aspiration  to  the  pure  and  true, 

Being  without  a  warrant  or  an  aim, 

Was  just  as  sterile  a  felicity 

As  if  the  insect,  born  to  spend  his  life 

Soaring  his  circles,  stopped  them  to  describe 

(Painfully  motionless  in  the  mid-air) 

Some  word  of  weighty  counsel  for  man's  sake, 

Some  '  Know  thyself '  or  '  Take  the  golden  mean  ! ' 

—  Forewent  his  happy  dance  and  the  glad  ray, 

Died  half  an  hour  the  sooner  and  was  dust. 

I,  born  to  perish  like  the  brutes,  or  worse. 

Why  not  live  brutishly,  obey  brutes'  law  ? 

But  I,  of  body  as  of  soul  complete, 

A  gymnast  at  the  games,  philosopher 

I'  the  schools,  who  painted,  and  made  music,  —  all 

Glories  that  met  upon  the  tragic  stage 


394  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

When  the  Third  Poet's  tread  surprised  the  Two,  — 
Whose  lot  fell  in  a  land  where  life  was  great 
And  sense  went  free  and  beauty  lay  profuse, 
I,  untouched  by  one  adverse  circumstance, 
Adopted  virtue  as  my  rule  of  life, 
Waived  all  reward,  loved  but  for  loving's  sake, 
And,  what  my  heart  taught  me,  I  taught  the  world, 
And  have  been  teaching  now  two  thousand  years. 
Witness  my  work,  —  plays  that  should  please,  forsooth ! 
'  They  might  please,  they  may  displease,  they  shall  teach, 
For  truth's  sake,'  so  I  said,  and  did,  and  do. 
Five  hundred  years  ere  Paul  spoke,  Felix  heard,  — 
How  much  of  temperance  and  righteousness. 
Judgment  to  come,  did  I  find  reason  for. 
Corroborate  with  my  strong  style  that  spared 
No  sin,  nor  swerved  the  more  from  branding  brow 
Because  the  sinner  was  called  Zeus  and  God  ? 
How  nearly  did  I  guess  at  that  Paul  knew  ? 
How  closely  come,  in  what  I  represent 
As  duty,  to  his  doctrine  yet  a  blank  ? 
And  as  that  limner  not  untruly  limns 
Who  draws  an  object  round  or  square,  which  square 
Or  round  seems  to  the  unassisted  eye. 
Though  Galileo's  tube  display  the  same 
Oval  or  oblong,  —  so,  who  controverts 
I  rendered  rightly  what  proves  wrongly  wrought 
Beside  Paul's  picture  ?     Mine  was  true  for  me. 
I  saw  that  there  are,  first  and  above  all, 
The  hidden  forces,  blind  necessities, 
Named  Nature,  but  the  thing's  self  uriconceived : 
Then  follow  —  how  dependent  upon  these, 
We  know  not,  how  imposed  above  ourselves. 
We  well  know  —  what  I  name  the  gods,  a  power 
Various  or  one  :  for  great  and  strong  and  good 
Is  there,  and  little,  weak  and  bad  there  too, 
Wisdom  and  foUy :  say,  these  make  no  God,  — 
What  is  it  else  that  rules  outside  man's  self  ? 
A  fact  then,  —  always,  to  the  naked  eye,  — 
And  so,  the  one  revealment  possible 
Of  what  were  unimagined  else  by  man. 
Therefore,  what  gods  do,  man  may  criticise, 
Applaud,  condemn,  —  how  should  he  fear  the  truth  ?  — 
But  likewise  have  in  awe  because  of  power. 
Venerate  for  the  main  munificence, 
And  give  the  doubtful  deed  its  due  excuse 
From  the  acknowledged  creature  of  a  day 


THE  POPE  395 

To  the  Eternal  and  Divine.     Thus,  bold 

Yet  self-mistrusting,  should  man  bear  himself, 

Most  assured  on  what  now  concerns  him  most  — • 

The  law  of  his  own  life,  the  path  he  prints,  — 

Which  law  is  virtue  and  not  vice,  I  say,  — 

And  least  inquisitive  where  search  least  skills, 

I'  the  nature  we  best  give  the  cltfuds  to  keep. 

What  could  I  paint  beyond  a  scheme  like  this 

Out  of  the  fragmentary  truths  where  light 

Lay  fitful  in  a  tenebrific  time  ? 

You  have  the  sunrise  now,  joins  truth  to  truth, 

Shoots  life  and  substance  into  death  and  void ; 

Themselves  compose  the  whole  we  made  before : 

The  forces  and  necessity  grow  God,  — 

The  beings  so  contrarious  that  seemed  gods, 

Prove  just  His  operation  manifold 

And  multiform,  translated,  as  must  be, 

Into  intelligible  shape  so  far 

As  suits  our  sense  and  sets  us  free  to  feel. 

What  if  I  let  a  child  think,  childhood-long, 

That  lightning,  I  would  have  him  spare  his  eye, 

Is  a  real  arrow  shot  at  naked  orb  ? 

The  man  knows  more,  but  shuts  his  lids  the  same : 

Lightning's  cause  comprehends  nor  man  nor  child. 

Why  then,  my  scheme,  your  better  knowledge  broke, 

Presently  readjusts  itself,  the  small 

Proportioned  largelier,  parts  and  whole  named  new : 

So  much,  no  more  two  thousand  years  have  done  ! 

Pope,  dost  thou  dare  pretend  to  punish  me, 

For  not  descrying  sunshine  at  midnight, 

Me  who  crept  all-fours,  found  my  way  so  far  — 

While  thou  rewardest  teachers  of  the  truth, 

Who  miss  the  plain  way  in  the  blaze  of  noon,  — 

Though  just  a  word  from  that  strong  style  of  mine. 

Grasped  honestly  in  hand  as  guiding-staff. 

Had  pricked  them  a  sure  path  across  the  bog, 

That  mire  of  cowardice  and  slush  of  lies 

Wherein  I  find  them  wallow  in  wide  day    " 

How  should  I  answer  this  Euripides  ? 

Paul  —  't  is  a  legend  —  answered  Seneca, 

But  that  was  in  the  day-spring ;  noon  is  now, 

We  have  got  too  familiar  with  the  light. 

Shall  I  wish  back  once  more  that  thrill  of  dawn  ? 

When  the  whole  truth-touched  man  burned  up,  one  fire  ? 

—  Assured  the  trial,  fiery,  fierce,  but  fleet. 


396  THE  RING  AND  THE  BOOK 

Would,  from  his  little  heap  of  ashes,  lend 

Wings  to  that  conflagration  of  the  world 

Which  Christ  awaits  ere  He  makes  all  things  new : 

So  should  the  frail  become  the  perfect,  rapt 

From  glory  of  pain  to  glory  of  joy  ;  and  so, 

Even  in  the  end,  —  the  act  renouncing  earth. 

Lands,  houses,  husbands,  wives  and  children  here,  — 

Begin  that  other  act  which  finds  all,  lost, 

Regained,  in  this  time  even,  a  hundredfold, 

And,  in  the  next  time,  feels  the  finite  love 

Blent  and  embalmed  with  the  eternal  life. 

So  does  the  sun  ghastlUy  seem  to  sink 

In  those  north  parts,  lean  all  but  out  of  life. 

Desist  a  dread  mere  breathing-stop,  then  slow 

Re-assert  day,  begin  the  endless  rise. 

Was  this  too  easy  for  our  after-stage  ? 

Was  such  a  lighting-up  of  faith,  in  life. 

Only  allowed  initiate,  set  man's  step 

In  the  true  way  by  help  of  the  great  glow  ? 

A  way  wherein  it  is  ordained  he  walk. 

Bearing  to  see  the  light  from  heaven  still  more 

And  more  encroached  on  by  the  light  of  earth, 

Tentatives  earth  puts  forth  to  rival  heaven, 

Earthly  incitements  that  mankind  serve  God 

For  man's  sole  sake,  not  God's  and  therefore  man's. 

TiU  at  last,  who  distinguishes  the  sun 

From  a  mere  Druid  fire  on  a  far  mount  ? 

More  praise  to  him  who  with  his  subtle  prism 

Shall  decompose  both  beams  and  name  the  true. 

In  such  sense,  who  is  last  proves  first  indeed ; 

For  how  could  saints  and  martyrs  fail  see  truth 

Streak  the  night's  blackness  ?     Who  is  faithful  now. 

Who  untwists  heaven's  white  from  the  yellow  flare 

O'  the  world's  gross  torch,  without  night's  foil  that  helped 

Produce  the  Christian  act  so  possible 

When  in  the  way  stood  Nero's  cross  and  stake,  — 

So  hard  now  when  the  world  smiles  "  Right  and  wise  ! 

Faith  points  the  politic,  the  thrifty  way, 

Will  make  who  plods  it  in  the  end  returns 

Beyond  mere  fool's-sport  and  improvidence. 

We  fools  dance  through  the  cornfield  of  this  life. 

Pluck  ears  to  left  and  right  and  swallow  raw, 

—  Nay,  tread,  at  pleasure,  a  sheaf  underfoot. 

To  get  the  better  at  some  poppy-flower,  — 

Well  aware  we  shall  have  so  much  less  wheat 

In  the  eventual  harvest :  you  meantime 


THE  POPE  397 

Waste  not  a  spike,  —  the  richlier  will  you  reap  ! 
What  then  ?     There  will  be  always  garnered  meal 
Sufficient  for  our  comfortable  loaf, 
WhUe  you  enjoy  the  undiminished  sack  !  " 
Is  it  not  this  ignoble  confidence. 
Cowardly  hardihood,  that  dulls  and  damps, 
Makes  the  old  heroism  impossible  ? 

Unless  .  .  .  what  whispers  me  of  times  to  come  ? 

What  if  it  be  the  mission  of  that  age 

My  death  will  usher  into  life,  to  shake 

This  torpor  of  assurance  from  our  creed. 

Reintroduce  the  doubt  discarded,  bring 

That  formidable  danger  back,  we  drove 

Long  ago  to  the  distance  and  the  dark  ? 

No  wild  beast  now  prowls  round  the  infant  camp  : 

We  have  built  wall  and  sleep  in  city  safe  : 

But  if  some  earthquake  try  the  towers  that  laugh 

To  think  they  once  saw  lions  rule  outside, 

And  man  stand  out  again,  pale,  resolute, 

Prepared  to  die,  —  which  means,  alive  at  last  ? 

As  we  broke  up  that  old  faith  of  the  world, 

Have  we,  next  age,  to  break  up  this  the  new  — 

Faith,  in  the  thing,  grown  faith  in  the  report  — ■ 

Whence  need  to  bravely  disbelieve  report 

Through  increased  faith  i'  the  thing  reports  belie  ? 

Must  we  deny,  —  do  they,  these  Molinists, 

At  peril  of  their  body  and  their  soul,  — 

Recognized  truths,  obedient  to  some  truth 

Unrecognized  yet,  but  perceptible  ?  — 

Correct  the  portrait  by  the  living  face, 

Man's  God,  by  God's  God  in  the  mind  of  man  ? 

Then,  for  the  few  that  rise  to  the  new  height, 

The  many  that  must  sink  to  the  old  depth. 

The  multitude  found  fall  away !    A  few, 

E'en  ere  new  law  speak  clear,  may  keep  the  old, 

Preserve  the  Christian  level,  call  good  good 

And  evil  evil,  (even  though  razed  and  blank 

The  old  titles,)  helped  by  custom,  habitude. 

And  aU  else  they  mistake  for  finer  sense 

O'  the  fact  that  reason  warrants,  —  as  before. 

They  hope  perhaps,  fear  not  impossibly. 

At  least  some  one  Pompilia  left  the  world 

Will  say  "  I  know  the  right  place  by  foot's  feel, 

I  took  it  and  tread  firm  there  ;  wherefore  change  ?  " 

But  what  a  multitude  wUl  surely  fall 


3  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Quite  through  the  crumbling  truth,  late  subjacent, 

Sink  to  the  next  discoverable  base, 

Rest  upon  human  nature,  settle  there 

On  what  is  firm,  the  lust  and  pride  of  life  ! 

A  mass  of  men,  whose  very  souls  even  now 

Seem  to  need  re-creating,  —  so  they  slink 

Worm-like  into  the  mud,  light  now  lays  bare,  — 

Whose  future  we  dispose  of  with  shut  eyes 

And  whisper  —  "  They  are  grafted,  barren  twigs, 

Into  the  living  stock  of  Christ :  may  bear 

One  day,  till  when  they  lie  death-like,  not  dead,"  — » 

Those  who  with  all  the  aid  of  Christ  succumb. 

How,  without  Christ,  shall  they,  unaided,  sink  ? 

Whither  but  to  this  gulf  before  my  eyes  ? 

Do  not  we  end,  the  century  and  I  ? 

The  impatient  antimasque  treads  close  on  kibe 

O'  the  very  masque's  self  it  will  mock,  —  on  me, 

Last  lingering  personage,  the  impatient  mime 

Pushes  already,  —  wiU  I  block  the  way  ? 

Will  my  slow  trail  of  garments  ne'er  leave  space 

For  pantaloon,  sock,  plume  and  Castanet  ? 

Here  comes  the  first  experimentalist 

In  the  new  order  of  things,  —  he  plays  a  priest ; 

Does  he  take  inspiration  from  the  Church, 

Directly  make  her  rule  his  law  of  life  ? 

Not  he :  his  own  mere  impulse  guides  the  man  — 

Happily  sometimes,  since  ourselves  allow 

He  has  danced,  in  gayety  of  heart,  i'  the  main 

The  right  step  through  the  maze  we  bade  him  foot 

But  if  his  heart  had  prompted  him  break  loose 

And  mar  the  measure  ?     Why,  we  must  submit. 

And  thank  the  chance  that  brought  him  safe  so  far. 

Will  he  repeat  the  prodigy  ?     Perhaps. 

Can  he  teach  others  how  to  quit  themselves, 

Show  why  this  step  was  right  while  that  were  wrong  ? 

How  should  he  ?     "  Ask  your  hearts  as  I  asked  mine, 

And  get  discreetly  through  the  morrice  too  ; 

If  your  hearts  misdirect  you,  —  quit  the  stage. 

And  make  amends,  —  be  there  amends  to  make !  " 

Such  is,  for  the  Augustin  that  was  once. 

This  Canon  Caponsacchi  we  see  now. 

"  But  my  heart  answers  to  another  tune," 
Puts  in  the  Abate,  second  in  the  suite  ; 

"  I  have  my  taste  too,  and  tread  no  such  step  ! 
You  choose  the  glorious  life,  and  may,  for  me  ! 
I  like  the  lowest  of  life's  appetites,  — 


THE  POPE  899 

So  you  judge,  —  but  the  very  truth  of  joy 

To  my  own  apprehension  which  decides. 

Call  me  knave  and  you  get  yourself  called  fool ! 

I  live  for  greed,  ambition,  lust,  revenge  ; 

Attain  these  ends  by  force,  guile  :  hypocrite, 

To-day,  perchance  to-morrow  recognized 

The  rational  man,  the  type  of  common  sense." 

There  's  Loyola  adapted  to  our  time  ! 

Under  such  guidance  Guido  plays  his  part. 

He  also  influencing  in  the  due  turn 

These  last  clods  where  I  track  intelligence 

By  any  glimmer,  these  four  at  his  beck 

Ready  to  murder  any,  and,  at  their  own. 

As  ready  to  murder  him,  —  such  make  the  world  ! 

And,  first  effect  of  the  new  cause  of  things. 

There  they  lie  also  duly,  —  the  old  pair 

Of  the  weak  head  and  not  so  wicked  heart, 

With  the  one  Christian  mother,  wife  and  girl, 

—  Which  three  gifts  seem  to  make  an  angel  up,  — 

The  world's  first  foot  o'  the  dance  is  on  their  heads  ! 

Still,  I  stand  here,  not  off  the  stage  though  close 

On  the  exit :  and  my  last  act,  as  my  first, 

I  owe  the  scene,  and  Him  who  armed  me  thus 

With  Paul's  sword  as  with  Peter's  key.     I  smite 

With  my  whole  strength  once  more,  ere  end  my  part, 

Ending,  so  far  as  man  may,  this  offence. 

And  when  I  raise  my  ai'm,  who  plucks  my  sleeve  ? 

Who  stops  me  in  the  righteous  function,  —  foe 

Or  friend  ?     Oh,  still  as  ever,  friends  are  they 

Who,  in  the  interest  of  outraged  truth 

Deprecate  such  rough  handling  of  a  lie  ! 

The  facts  being  proved  and  incontestable. 

What  is  the  last  word  I  must  listen  to  ? 

Perchance  —  "  Spare  yet  a  term  this  barren  stock, 

We  pray  thee  dig  about  and  dung  and  dress 

TiU  he  repent  and  bring  forth  fruit  even  yet !  " 

Perchance —  "  So  poor  and  swift  a  punishment 

Shall  throw  him  out  of  life  with  all  that  sin  : 

Let  mercy  rather  pile  up  pain  on  pain 

Till  the  flesh  expiate  what  the  soul  pays  else  !  " 

Nowise  !     Remonstrants  on  each  side  commence 

Instructing,  there 's  a  new  tribunal  now 

Higher  than  God's  —  the  educated  man's  ! 

Nice  sense  of  honor  in  the  human  breast 

Supersedes  here  the  old  coarse  oracle  — 

Confirming  none  the  less  a  poinf  or  so 


400  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Wherein  blind  predecessors  worked  aright 
By  rule  of  thumb  :  as  when  Christ  said,  —  when,  where  ? 
Enough,  I  find  it  pleaded  in  a  place,  — 
"  All  other  wrongs  done,  patiently  I  take  : 
But  touch  my  honor  and  the  case  is  changed  ! 
I  feel  the  due  resentment,  —  nimini 
Honorem  trado  is  my  quick  retort." 
Eight  of  Him,  just  as  if  pronounced  to-day  ! 
Still,  should  the  old  authority  be  mute 
Or  doubtful,  or  in  speaking  clash  with  new, 
The  younger  takes  permission  to  decide. 
At  last  we  have  the  instinct  of  the  world 
Ruling  its  household  without  tutelage  : 
And  while  the  two  laws,  human  and  divine. 
Have  busied  finger  with  this  tangled  case. 
In  pushes  the  brisk  junior,  cuts  the  knot, 
Pronounces  for  acquittal.     How  it  trips 
Silverly  o'er  the  tongue  !     "  Remit  the  death ! 
Forgive,  .  .  .  well,  in  the  old  way,  if  thou  please, 
Decency  and  the  relics  of  routine 
Respected,  —  let  the  Count  go  free  as  air ! 
Since  he  may  plead  a  priest's  immunity,  — 
The  minor  orders  help  enough  for  that. 
With  Farinacci's  Ucense,  —  who  decides 
That  the  mere  implication  of  such  man. 
So  privileged,  in  any  cause,  before 
Whatever  Court  except  the  Spiritual, 
Straight  quashes  law-procedure,  —  quash  it,  then  ! 
Remains  a  pretty  loophole  of  escape 
Moreover,  that,  beside  the  patent  fact 
O'  the  law's  allowance,  there 's  involved  the  weal 
O'  the  Popedom :  a  son's  privilege  at  stake. 
Thou  wilt  pretend  the  Church's  interest. 
Ignore  all  finer  reasons  to  forgive ! 
But  herein  lies  the  crowning  cogency  — 
(Let  thy  friends  teach  thee  while  thou  tellest  beads)  — 
'That  in  this  case  the  spirit  of  culture  speaks, 
Civilization  is  imperative. 
To  her  shall  we  remand  all  delicate  points 
Henceforth,  nor  take  irregular  advice 
O'  the  sly,  as  heretofore  :  she  used  to  hint 
Remonstrances,  when  law  was  out  of  sorts 
Because  a  saucy  tongue  was  put  to  rest, 
An  eye  that  roved  was  cured  of  arrogance : 
But  why  be  forced  to  mumble  under  breath 
What  soon  shall  be  acknowledged  as  plain  fact, 


THE  POPE  401 

Outspoken,  say,  in  thy  successor's  time  ? 
Methinks  we  see  the  golden  age  return ! 
Civilization  and  the  Emperor 
Succeed  to  Christianity  and  Pope. 
One  Emperor  then,  as  one  Pope  now :  meanwhile, 
Anticipate  a  little  !     "We  tell  thee' '  Take 
Guido's  life,  sapped  society  shall  crash, 
"Whereof  the  main  prop  was,  is,  and  shall  be 
—  Supremacy  of  husband  over  wife  ! ' 
Does  the  man  rule  i'  the  house,  and  may  his  mate 
Because  of  any  plea  dispute  the  same  ? 
Oh,  pleas  of  all  sorts  shall  abound,  be  sure, 
One  but  allowed  validity,  —  for,  harsh 
And  savage,  for,  inept  and  siUy-sooth, 
For,  this  and  that,  will  the  ingenious  sex 
Demonstrate  the  best  master  e'er  graced  slave  : 
And  there  's  but  one  short  way  to  end  the  coU,  — 
Acknowledge  right  and  reason  steadily 
I'  the  man  and  master :  then  the  wife  submits 
To  plain  truth  broadly  stated.     Does  the  time 
Advise  we  shift  —  a  pUlar  ?  nay,  a  stake 
Out  of  its  place  i'  the  social  tenement  ? 
One  touch  may  send  a  shudder  through  the  heap 
And  bring  it  toppling  on  our  children's  heads ! 
Moreover,  if  ours  breed  a  qualm  in  thee, 
Give  thine  own  better  feeling  play  for  once ! 
Thou,  whose  own  life  winks  o'er  the  socket-edge, 
Wouldst  thou  it  went  out  in  such  ugly  snuff 
As  dooming  sons  dead,  e'en  though  justice  prompt  ? 
Why,  on  a  certain  feast,  Barabbas'  self 
"Was  set  free,  not  to  cloud  the  general  cheer  : 
Neither  shalt  thou  pollute  thy  Sabbath  close  ! 
Mercy  is  safe  and  graceful.     How  one  hears 
The  howl  begin,  scarce  the  three  little  taps 
O'  the  silver  mallet  silent  on  thy  brow,  — 
'  His  last  act  was  to  sacrifice  a  Count 
And  thereby  screen  a  scandal  of  the  Church ! 
Guide  condemned,  the  Canon  justified 
Of  course,  —  delinquents  of  his  cloth  go  free  ! ' 
And  so  the  Luthers  chuckle,  Calvins  scowl. 
So  thy  hand  helps  Molinos  to  the  chair 
"Whence  he  may  hold  forth  till  doom's  day  on  just 
These  petit^naitre  priestlings,  —  in  the  choir 
Sanctus  et  Benedictus,  with  a  brush 
Of  soft  guitar-strings  that  obey  the  thumb. 
Touched  by  the  bedside,  for  accompaniment ! 


402        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK. 

Does  this  give  umbrage  to  a  husband  ?     Death 
To  the  fool,  and  to  the  priest  impunity ! 
But  no  impunity  to  any  friend 
So  simply  over-loyal  as  these  four 
Who  made  religion  of  their  patron's  cause, 
Believed  in  him  and  did  his  bidding  straight, 
Asked  not  one  question  but  laid  down  the  lives 
This  Pope  took,  —  all  four  lives  together  make 
Just  his  own  length  of  days,  —  so,  dead  they  lie, 
As  these  -were  times  when  loyalty 's  a  drug, 
And  zeal  in  a  subordinate  too  cheap 
And  common  to  be  saved  when  we  spend  life ! 
Come,  't  is  too  much  good  breath  we  waste  in  words : 
The  pardon,  Holy  Father  !     Spare  grimace. 
Shrugs  and  reluctance  !     Are  not  we  the  world, 
Art  not  thou  Priam  ?  let  soft  culture  plead 
Hecubarlike,  '  non  tali '  (Virgil  serves) 
*Atcxilio,'  and  the  rest!     Enough,  it  works  ! 
The  Pope  relaxes,  and  the  Prince  is  loth. 
The  father's  bowels  yearn,  the  man's  will  bends. 
Reply  is  apt.     Our  tears  on  tremble,  hearts 
Big  with  a  benediction,  wait  the  word 
Shall  circulate  through  the  city  in  a  trice, 
Set  every  window  flaring,  give  each  man 
O'  the  mob  his  torch  to  wave  for  gratitude. 
Pronounce  then,  for  our  breath  and  patience  fail !  " 

I  will.  Sirs :  but  a  voice  other  than  yours 
Quickens  my  spirit.     "  Quis  pro  Domino  ? 
Who  is  upon  the  Lord's  side  ?  "  asked  the  Count. 
I,  who  write  — 

"  On  receipt  of  this  command, 
Acquaint  Count  Guido  and  lus  fellows  four 
They  die  to-morrow  :  could  it  be  to-night. 
The  better,  but  the  work  to  do,  takes  time. 
Set  with  all  diligence  a  scafEold  up. 
Not  in  the  customary  place,  by  Bridge 
Saint  Angelo,  where  die  the  common  sort ; 
But  since  the  man  is  noble,  and  his  peers 
By  predilection  haunt  the  People's  Square, 
There  let  him  be  beheaded  in  the  midst, 
And  his  companions  hanged  on  either  side  : 
So  shall  the  quality  see,  fear,  and  learn. 
All  which  work  takes  time  :  till  to-morrow,  then. 
Let  there  be  prayer  incessant  for  the  five  !  " 

For  the  main  criminal  I  have  no  hope 


THE  POPE  408 

Except  in  such  a  suddenness  of  fate. 

I  stood  at  Naples  once,  a  night  so  dark 

I  could  have  scarce  conjectured  there  was  earth 

Anywhere,  sky  or  sea  or  woiM  at  all : 

But  the  night's  black  was  burst  through  by  a  blaze  — 

Thunder  struck  blow  on  blow,  earth  groaned  and  bore, 

Through  her  whole  length  of  mountain  visible  : 

There  lay  the  city  thick  and  plain  with  spires, 

And,  Hke  a  ghost  disshrouded,  white  the  sea. 

So  may  the  truth  be  flashed  out  by  one  blow, 

And  Guido  see,  one  instant,  and  be  saved. 

Else  I  avert  my  face,  nor  follow  him 

Into  that  sad  obscure  sequestered  state 

"Where  God  unmakes  but  to  remake  the  soul 

He  else  made  first  in  vain ;  which, must  not  be. 

Enough,  for  I  may  die  this  very  night : 

And  how  should  I  dare  die,  this  man  let  live  ? 

Carry  this  forthwith  to  the  Governor ! 


XI. 

GUIDO. 

Tou  are  the  Cardinal  Acciaiuoli,  and  you, 

Abate  Fanciatichi  —  two  good  Tuscan  names  : 

Acciaiuoli  —  ah,  your  ancestor  it  was 

Built  the  huge  battlemented  convent-block 

Over  the  little  forky  flashing  Greve 

That  takes  the  quick  turn  at  the  foot  o'  the  hiU 

Just  as  one  first  sees  Florence :  oh  those  days  ! 

'T  is  Ema,  though,  the  other  rivulet. 

The  one-arched  brown  brick  bridge  yawns  over,  —  yes, 

Gallop  and  go  five  minutes,  and  you  gain 

The  Roman  Gate  from  where  the  Ema 's  bridged  : 

Kingfishers  fly  there  :  how  I  see  the  bend 

O'erturreted  by  Certosa  which  he  buUt, 

That  Senescal  (we  styled  him)  of  your  House  ! 

I  do  adjure  you,  help  me,  Sirs  !     My  blood 

Comes  from  as  far  a  source  :  ought  it  to  end 

This  way,  by  leakage  through  their  scafEold-planks 

Into  Rome's  sink  where  her  red  refuse  runs  ? 

Sirs,  I  beseech  yoa  by  blood-sympathy, 

If  there  be  any  vile  experiment 

In  the  air,  —  if  this  your  visit  simply  prove, 

When  all 's  done,  just  a  well-intentioned  trick, 

That  tries  for  truth  truer  than  truth  itself, 

By  startling  up  a  man,  ere  break  of  day. 

To  tell  him  he  must  die  at  sunset,  —  pshaw  ! 

That  man 's  a  Franceschini ;  feel  his  pulse. 

Laugh  at  your  foUy,  and  let 's  all  go  sleep  ! 

You  have  my  last  word,  —  innocent  am  I 

As  Innocent  my  Pope  and  murderer, 

Imiocent  as  a  babe,  as  Mary's  own. 

As  Mary's  self,  —  I  said,  say  and  repeat,  — 

And  why,  then,  should  I  die  twelve  hours  hence  ?     I  — 

Whom,  not  twelve  hours  ago,  the  jailer  bade 

Turn  to  my  straw-truss,  settle  and  sleep  sound 

That  I  might  wake  the  sooner,  promptlier  pay 

His  due  of  meat-and-drink-indulgeuce,  cross 


QUIDO  405 

His  palm  with  fee  of  the  good-hand,  beside, 

As  gallants  use  who  go  at  large  again ! 

For  why  ?     All  honest  Rome  approved  my  part ; 

"Whoever  owned  wife,  sister,  daughter,  —  nay, 

Mistress,  —  had  any  shadow  of  any  right 

That  looks  like  right,  and,  all  the  more  resolved, 

Held  it  with  tooth  and  nail,  —  these  manly  men 

Approved !     I  being  for  Home,  Rome  was  for  me. 

Then,  there 's  the  point  reserved,  the  subterfuge 

My  lawyers  held  by,  kept  for  last  resource, 

Firm  should  all  else  —  tibe  impossible  fancy  !  — fail, 

And  sneaking  burgess-spirit  win  the  day. 

The  knaves !      One     plea     at   least   would  hold,  —  they 

laughed,  — 
One  grappling-iron  scratch  the  bottom-rock 
Even  should  the  middle  mud  let  anchor  go ! 
I  hooked  my  cause  on  to  the  Clergy's,  —  plea 
Which,  even  if  law  tipped  off  my  hat  and  plume, 
Revealed  my  priestly  tonsure,  saved  me  so. 
The  Pope  moreover,  this  old  Innocent, 
Being  so  meek  and  mild  and  merciful, 
So  fond  o'  the  poor  and  so  fatigued  of  earth, 
So  .  .  .  fifty  thousand  devils  in  deepest  hell ! 
Why  must  he  cure  us  of  our  strange  conceit 
Of  the  angel  in  man's  likeness,  that  we  loved 
And  looked  should  help  us  at  a  pinch  ?     He  help  ? 
He  pardon  ?     Here 's  his  mind  and  message  —  death ! 
Thank  the  good  Pope  !     Now,  is  he  good  in  this, 
Never  mind.  Christian,  —  no  such  stuff 's  extant,  — 
But  will  my  death  do  credit  to  his  reign. 
Show  he  both  lived  and  let  live,  so  was  good  ? 
Cannot  I  live  if  he  but  like  ?     "  The  law !  " 
Why,  just  the  law  gives  him  the  very  chance, 
The  precise  leave  to  let  my  life  alone, 
Which  the  archangelic  soul  oi  him  (he  says) 
Yearns  after !     Here  they  drop  it  in  his  palm, 
My  lawyers,  capital  o'  the  cursed  kind,  — 
Drop  life  to  take  and  hold  and  keep  :  but  no ! 
He  sighs,  shakes  head,  refuses  to  shut  hand. 
Motions  away  the  gift  they  bid  him  grasp. 
And  of  the  coyness  comes  —  that  off  I  run 
And  down  I  go,  he  best  knows  whither !  mind, 
He  knows,  who  sets  me  rolling  all  the  same  ! 
Disinterested  Vicar  of  our  Lord, 
This  way  he  abrogates  and  disallows, 
Nullifies  and  ignores,  —  reverts  in  fine 


406  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

To  the  good  and  right,  in  detriment  of  me  ! 
Talk  away  !     Will  you  have  the  naked  truth  ? 
He 's  sick  of  his  life's  supper,  —  swallowed  lies : 
So,  hobbUng  bedward,  needs  must  ease  his  maw 
Just  where  I  sit  o'  the  doorsill.     Sir  Abate, 
Can  you  do  nothing  ?     Friends,  we  used  to  frisk : 
What  of  this  sudden  slash  in  a  friend's  face, 
This  cut  across  our  good  companionship 
That  showed  its  front  so  gay  when  both  were  young  ? 
Were  not  we  put  into  a  beaten  path, 
Bid  pace  the  world,  we  nobles  born  and  bred. 
We  body  of  friends  with  each  his  'scutcheon  fuU 
Of  old  achievement  and  impunity,  — 
Taking  the  laugh  of  morn  and  Sol's  salute 
As  forth  we  fared,  pricked  on  to  breathe  our  steeds 
And  take  equestrian  sport  over  the  green 
Under  the  blue,  across  the  crop,  —  what  care  ? 
If  we  went  prancing  up  hill  and  down  dale, 
In  and  out  of  the  level  and  the  straight. 
By  the  bit  of  pleasant  byway,  where  was  harm  ? 
Still  Sol  salutes  me,  and  the  morning  laughs  : 
I  see  my  grandsire's  hoofprints,  —  point  the  spot 
Where  he  drew  rein,  slipped  saddle,  and  stabbed  knave 
For  daring  throw  gibe  — jnuch  less,  stone  —  from  pale : 
Then  back,  and  on,  and  up  with  the  cavalcade. 
Just  so  wend  we,  now  canter,  now  converse, 
Till,  'mid  the  jauncing  pride  and  jaunty  port, 
Something  of  a  sudden  jerks  at  somebody  — 
A  dagger  is  out,  a  flashing  cut  and  thrust. 
Because  I  play  some  prank  my  grandsire  played, 
And  here  I  sprawl :  where  is  the  company  ?     Gone  ! 
A  trot  and  a  trample  !  only  I  lie  trapped. 
Writhe  in  a  certain  novel  springe  just  set 
By  the  good  old  Pope  :  I  'm  first  prize.    Warn  me  ?  Wh;; 
Apprise  me  that  the  law  o'  the  game  is  changed  ? 
Enough  that  I  'm  a  warning,  as  I  writhe, 
To  all  and  each  my  fellows  of  the  file, 
And  make  law  plain  henceforward  past  mistake, 
''  For  such  a  prank,  death  is  the  penalty !  " 
Pope  the  Five  Hundredth  (what  do  I  know  or  care  ?) 
Deputes  your  Eminency  and  Abateship 
To  announce  that,  twelve  hours  from  this  time,  he  needs 
I  just  essay  upon  my  body  and  soul 
The  virtue  of  his  brand-new  engine,  prove 
Represser  of  the  pranksome  !     I  'm  the  first ! 
Thanks.     Do  you  know  what  teeth  you  mean  to  try 


GUIDO  407 

The  sharpness  of,  on  this  soft  neck  and  throat  ? 
I  know  it,  —  I  have  seen  and  hate  it,  —  ay. 
As  you  shall,  while  I  tell  you !     Let  me  talk, 
Or  leave  me,  at  your  pleasure !  talk  I  must : 
What  is  your  visit  but  my  lure  to  talk  ? 
Nay,  you  have  something  to  disclose  ?  —  a  smile, 
At  end  of  the  forced  sternness,  means  to  mock 
The  heart-beats  here  ?     I  call  your  two  hearts  stone  I 
Is  your  charge  to  stay  with  me  till  I  die  ? 
Be  tacit  as  your  bench,  then  !     Use  your  ears, 
I  use  my  tongue  :  how  glibly  yours  will  run 
At  pleasant  supper-time  .  .  .  God's  curse !  .  .  .  to-night 
"When  all  the  guests  jump  up,  begin  so  brisk, 
"  Welcome,  his  Eminence  who  shrived  the  wretch ! 
Now  we  shall  have  the  Abate's  story !  " 

Life! 
How  I  could  spUl  this  overplus  of  mine 
Among  those  hoar-haired,  shrunk-shanked  odds  and  ends 
Of  body  and  soul  old  age  is  chewing  dry  ! 
Those  windle-straws  that  stare  while  purblind  death 
Mows  here,  mows  there,  makes  hay  of  juicy  me. 
And  misses  just  the  bunch  of  withered  weed 
Would  brighten  hell  and  streak  its  smoke  with  flame ! 
How  the  life  I  could  shed  yet  never  shrink, 
Would  drench  their  stalks  vdth  sap  like  grass  in  May ! 
Is  it  not  terrible,  I  entreat  you.  Sirs  ? 
With  manifold  and  plenitudinous  life. 
Prompt  at  death's  menace  to  give  blow  for  threat, 
Answer  his  "  Be  thou  not !  "  by  "  Thus  I  am  !  "  — 
Terrible  so  to  be  alive  yet  die  ? 

How  I  live,  how  I  see  !  so, — how  I  speak  ! 
Lucidity  of  soul  unlocks  the  lips  : 
I  never  had  the  words  at  wiU  before. 
How  I  see  all  my  foUy  at  a  glance  ! 
"  A  man  requires  a  woman  and  a  wife  :  " 
There  was  my  folly ;  I  believed  the  saw. 
I  knew  that  just  myself  concerned  myself. 
Yet  needs  must  look  for  what  I  seemed  to  lack,, 
In  a  woman,  —  why,  the  woman  's  in  the  man  ! 
Fools  we  are,  how  we  learn  things  when  too  late ! 
Overmuch  life  turns  round  my  woman-side  ; 
The  male  and  female  La  me,  mixed  before. 
Settle  of  a  sudden :  I  'm  my  wife  outright 
In  this  unmanly  appetite  for  truth, 


408  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

This  careless  courage  as  to  consequence, 

This  instantaneous  sight  through  things  and  through. 

This  voluble  rhetoric,  if  you  please,  —  't  is  she  ! 

Here  you  have  that  PompUia  whom  I  slew, 

Also  the  folly  for  which  1  slew  her  ! 

Fool! 
And,  fool-like,  what  is  it  I  wander  from  ? 
What  did  I  say  of  your  sharp  iron  tooth  ? 
Ah,  —  that  I  know  the  hateful  thing !  this  way. 
I  chanced  to  stroU  forth,  many  a  good  year  gone, 
One  warm  Spring  eve  in  Rome,  and  unaware 
Looking,  mayhap,  to  count  what  stars  were  out, 
Came  on  your  fine  axe  in  a  frame,  that  falls 
And  so  cuts  off  a  man's  head  underneath, 
Mannaia,  —  thus  we  made  acquaintance  first : 
Out  of  the  way,  in  a  by-part  o'  the  town. 
At  the  Mouth-of-Truth  o'  the  river-side,  you  know: 
One  goes  by  the  Capitol :  and  wherefore  coy, 
Retiring  out  of  crowded  noisy  Rome  ? 
Because  a  very  little  time  ago 
It  had  done  service,  chopped  off  head  from  trunk, 
Belonging  to  a  fellow  whose  poor  house 
The  thing  must  make  a  point  to  stand  before. 
Felice  Whatsoever-was-the-name 
Who  stabled  buffaloes  and  so  gained  bread, 
(Our  clowns  unyoke  them  in  the  ground  hard  by,) 
And,  after  use  of  much  improper  speech. 
Had  struck  at  Duke  Some-titie-or-other's  face, 
Because  he  kidnapped,  carried  away  and  kept 
Felice's  sister  who  would  sit  and  sing 
r  the  filthy  doorway  while  she  plaited  fringe 
To  deck  the  brutes  with,  —  on  their  gear  it  goes,  — ■ 
The  good  girl  with  the  velvet  in  her  voice. 
So  did  the  Duke,  so  did  Felice,  so 
Did  Justice,  intervening  with  her  axe. 
There  the  man-mutilating  engine  stood 
At  ease,  both  gay  and  grim,  like  a  Swiss  guard 
Off  duty,  —  purr&ed  itself  as  well. 
Getting  dry,  sweet  and  proper  for  next  week,"— 
And  doing  incidental  good,  't  was  hoped 
To  the  rough  lesson-lacking  populace 
Who  now  and  then,  forsooth,  must  right  their  wrongs  ! 
There  stood  the  twelve-foot-square  of  scaffold,  railed 
Considerately  round  to  elbow-height, 
For  fear  an  officer  should  tumble  thence 
And  sprain  his  ankle  and  be  lame  a  month, 


GUIDO  409 

Through  starting  when  the  axe  fell  and  head  too ! 

Railed  likewise  were  the  steps  whereby  't  was  reached. 

All  of  it  painted  red  :  red,  in  the  midst, 

Ran  up  two  narrow  tall  beams  barred  across. 

Since  from  the  summit,  some  twelve  feet  to  reach, 

The  irou  plate  with  the  sharp  shearing  edge 

Had  slammed,  jerked,  shot,  slid,  —  I  shaU  soon  find  whichi 

And  so  lay  quiet,  fast  in  its  fit  place. 

The  wooden  half-moon  collar,  now  eclipsed 

By  the  blade  which  blocked  its  curvature :  apart, 

The  other  halt,  —  the  under  half-moon  board 

Which,  helped  by  this,  completes  a  neck's  embrace,  — 

Joiped  to  a  sort  of  desk  that  wheels  aside 

Out  of  the  way  when  done  with,  —  down  you  kneel, 

In  you  're  pushed,  over  you  the  other  drops, 

Tight  you  're  clipped,  whiz,  there  's  the  blade  cleaves  its  best^ 

Out  trundles  body,  down  flops  head  on  floor. 

And  where  's  your  soul  gone  ?     That,  too,  I  shall  find ! 

This  kneeling-place  was  red,  red,  never  fear ! 

But  only  slimy-like  with  paint,  not  blood. 

For  why  ?  a  decent  pitcher  stood  at  hand, 

A  broad  dish  to  hold  sawdust,  and  a  broom 

By  some  unnamed  utensil,  —  scraper-rake,  — 

Each  with  a  conscious  air  of  duty  done. 

Underneath,  loungers,  —  boys  and  some  few  men,  — 

Discoursed  this  platter,  named  the  other  tool. 

Just  as,  when  grooms  tie  up  and  dress  a  steed, 

Boys  lounge  and  look  on,  and  elucubrate 

"What  the  round  brush  is  used  for,  what  the  square,  — 

So  was  explained  —  to  me  the  skiU-less  then  — 

The  manner  of  the  grooming  for  next  world 

Undergone  by  Felice  What's-his-name. 

There  's  no  such  lovely  month  in  Rome  as  May  ^ 

May's  crescent  is  no  half-moon  of  red  plank. 

And  came  now  tilting  o'er  the  wave  i'  the  west, 

One  greenish-golden  sea,  right  'twixt  those  bars 

Of  the  engine  —  I  began  acquaintance  with, 

Understood,  hated,  hurried  from  before. 

To  have  it  out  of  sight  and  cleanse  my  soul ! 

Here  it  is  all  again,  conserved  for  use : 

Twelve  hours  hence,  I  may  know  more,  not  hate  worse. 

That  young  May-moon-month  !     Devils  of  the  deep ! 
Was  not  a  Pope  then  Pope  as  much  as  now  ? 
Used  not  he  chirrup  o'er  the  Merry  Tales, 
Chuckle,  —  his  nephew  so  exact  the  wag 


410  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

To  play  a  jealous  cuUion  such  a  trick 
As  wins  the  wife  i'  the  pleasant  story  !     Well  ? 
Why  do  things  change  ?     Wherefore  is  R6me  un-Romed  ? 
I  tell  you,  ere  Felice's  corpse  was  cold, 
The  Duke,  that  night,  threw  wide  his  palace-doors, 
Received  the  compliments  o'  the  quality 
For  justice  done  Mm,  —  bowed  and  smirked  his  best, 
And  in  return  passed  round  a  pretty  thing, 
A  portrait  of  Felice's  sister's  self, 
Florid  old  rogue  Albano's  mastei-piece, 
As  —  better  than  virginity  in  rags  — 
Bouncing  Europa  on  the  back  o'  the  bull : 
They  laughed  and  took  their  road  the  saf  elier  home. 
Ah,  but  times  change,  there 's  quite  another  Pope, 
I  do  the  Duke's  deed,  take  Felice's  place, 
And,  being  no  Felice,  lout  and  clout, 
Stomach  but  ill  the  phrase,  "  I  lose  my  head  !  " 
How  euphemistic !     Lose  what  ?     Lose  your  ring. 
Your  snufE-box,  tablets,  kerchief  !  — but,  your  head? 
I  learnt  the  process  at  an  early  age  ; 
'T  was  useful  knowledge,  in  those  same  old  days, 
To  know  the  way  a  head  is  set  on  neck. 
My  fencing-master  urged,  "  Would  yoii  excel  ? 
Rest  not  content  with  mere  bold  give-and-guard. 
Nor  pink  the  antagonist  somehow-anyhow  ! 
See  me  dissect  a  little,  and  know  your  game ! 
Only  anatomy  makes  a  thrust  the  thing." 
Oh  Cardinal,  those  lithe  live  necks  of  ours ! 
Here  go  the  vertebrae,  here  's  Atlas,  here 
Axis,  and  here  the  symphyses  stop  short, 
So  wisely  and  well,  —  as,  o'er  a  corpse,  we  cant,  — 
And  here's  the  silver  cord  which  .  .  .  what's  our  word? 
Depends  from  the  gold  bowl,  which  loosed  (not  "  lost ") 
Lets  us  from  heaven  to  heU,  —  one  chop,  we  're  loose  ! 
"  And  not  much  pain  i'  the  process,"  quoth  a  sage  ; 
Who  told  him  ?     Not  Felice's  ghost,  I  think  ! 
Such  "  losing  "  is  scarce  Mother  Nature's  mode. 
She  fain  would  have  cord  ease  itself  away, 
Worn  to  a  thread  by  threescore  years  and  ten. 
Snap  while  we  slumber :  that  seems  bearable. 
I  'm  told  one  clot  of  blood  extravasate 
Ends  one  as  certainly  as  Roland's  sword,  — 
One  drop  of  lymph  suffused  proves  Oliver's  mace,  — 
Intruding,  either  of  the  pleasant  pair. 
On  the  arachnoid  tunic  of  my  brain. 
That 's  Nature's  way  of  loosing  cord  !  —  but  Art, 


GUIDO  411 

How  of  Art's  process  with  the  engine  here, 

When  bowl  and  cord  alike  are  crushed  across, 

Bored  between,  bruised  through  ?     Why,  if  Fagon's  self, 

The  French  Court's  pride,  that  famed  practitioner, 

Would  pass  his  cold  pale  lightning  of  a  knife, 

Pistoja-ware,  adroit  'twixt  joint  and  joint. 

With  just  a  "  See  how  facile,  gentlefolk  !  "  — 

The  thing  were  not  so  bad  to  bear !     Brute  force 

Cuts  as  he  comes,  breaks  in,  breaks  on,  breaks  out 

O'  the  hai'd  and  soft  of  you  :  is  that  the  same  ? 

A  lithe  snake  thrids  the  hedge,  makes  throb  no  leaf : 

A  heavy  ox  sets  chest  to  brier  and  branch, 

Bursts  somehow  through,  and  leaves  one  hideous  hole 

Behind  him ! 

And  why,  why  must  this  needs  be  ? 
Oh,  if  men  were  but  good !     They  are  not  good. 
Nowise  like  Peter :  people  called  him  rough. 
But  if,  as  I  left  Rome,  I  spoke  the  Saint, 

—  "  Petrus,  quo  vadis  ?  "  —  doubtless,  I  should  hear, 
"  To  free  the  prisoner  and  forgive  his  fault ! 

I  plucked  the  absolute  dead  from  God's  own  bar. 

And  raised  up  Dorcas,  —  why  not  rescue  thee  ?  " 

What  would  cost  one  such  nullifying  word  ? 

If  Innocent  succeeds  to  Peter's  place. 

Let  him  think  Peter's  thought,  speak  Peter's  speech ! 

I  say,  he  is  bound  to  it :  friends,  how  say  you  ? 

Concede  I  be  all  one  bloodguiltiness 

And  mystery  of  murder  in  the  flesh. 

Why  should  that  fact  keep  the  Pope's  mouth  shut  fast  ? 

He  execrates  my  crime,  —  good !  —  sees  heU  yawn 

One  inch  from  the  red  plank's  end  which  I  press,  — 

Nothing  is  better  !     What 's  the  consequence  ? 

How  should  a  Pope  proceed  that  knows  his  cue  ? 

Why,  leave  me  linger  out  my  minute  here, 

Since  close  on  death  comes  judgment  and  comes  doom, 

Not  crib  at  dawn  its  pittance  from  a  sheep 

Destined  ere  dewfaU  to  be  butcher's-meat ! 

Think,  Sirs,  if  I  have  done  you  any  harm, 

And  you  require  the  natural  revenge. 

Suppose,  and  so  intend  to  poison  me, 

—  Just  as  you  take  and  slip  into  my  draught 
The  paperful  of  powder  that  clears  scores. 
You  notice  on  my  brow  a  certain  blue : 
How  you  both  overset  the  wine  at  once  ! 

How  you  both  smile,  "  Our  enemy  has  the  plague ! 


412        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Twelve  hours  hence  he  '11  be  scrapmg  his  bones  bare 
Of  that  intolerable  flesh,  and  die, 
Frenzied  with  pain  :  no  need  for  poison  here  I 
Step  aside  and  enjoy  the  spectacle  !  " 
Tender  for  souls  are  you.  Pope  Innocent ! 
Christ's  maxim  is  —  one  soul  outweighs  the  world : 
Respite  me,  save  a  soul,  then,  curse  the  world ! 
"  No,"  venerable  sire,  I  hear  you  smirk, 
"  No :  for  Christ's  gospel  changes  names,  not  things. 
Renews  the  obsolete,  does  nothing  more  ! 
Our  fire-new  gospel  is  re-tinkered  law, 
Our  mercy,  justice,  — Jove 's  rechristened  God,  — 
Nay,  whereas,  in  the  popular  conceit, 
'T  is  pity  that  old  harsh  Law  somehow  limps, 
Lingers  on  earth,  although  Law's  day  be  done, 
Else  would  benignant  Gospel  interpose. 
Not  furtively  as  now,  but  bold  and  frank 
O'erflutter  us  with  healing  in  her  wings. 
Law  being  harshness.  Gospel  only  love  — 
We  tell  the  people,  on  the  contrary. 
Gospel  takes  up  the  rod  which  Law  lets  fall ; 
Mercy  is  vigilant  when  justice  sleeps ! 
Does  Law  permit  a  taste  of  Gospel-grace  ? 
The  secular  arm  allow  the  spiritual  power 
To  act  for  once  ?  —  no  compUment  so  fine 
As  that  our  Gospel  handsomely  turn  harsh. 
Thrust  victim  back  on  Law  the  nice  and  coy !  " 
Yes,  you  do  say  so,  —  else  you  would  forgive 
Me,  whom  Law  does  not  touch  but  tosses  you  ! 
Don't  think  to  put  on  the  professional  face  ! 
You  know  what  I  know,  —  casuists  as  you  are, 
Each  nerve  must  creep,  each  hair  start,  sting  and  stand. 
At  such  illogical  inconsequence  ! 
Dear  my  friends,  do  but  see  !     A  murder 's  tried. 
There  are  two  parties  to  the  cause  :  I  'm  one, 
—  Defend  myself,  as  somebody  must  do  : 
I  have  the  best  o'  the  battle  :  that 's  a  fact, 
Simple  fact,  —  fancies  find  no  place  just  now. 
What  though  half  Rome  condemned  me  ?     Half  approved 
And,  none  disputes,  the  luck  is  mine  at  last, 
All  Rome,  i'  the  main,  acquitting  me  :  whereon, 
What  has  the  Pope  to  ask  but  "  How  finds  Law  ?  " 
"  I  find,"  replies  Law,  "  I  have  erred  this  while : 
Guilty  or  guiltless,  Guido  proves  a  priest. 
No  layman :  he  is  therefore  yours,  not  mine  : 
I  bound  him :  loose  him,  you  whose  will  is  Christ's ! '" 


GUIDO  413 

And  now  what  does  this  Vicar  .of  our  Lord, 

Shepherd  o'  the  flock,  —  one  of  whose  charge  hleats  sore 

For  crook's  help  from  the  quag  wherein  it  drowns  ? 

Law  suffers  him  employ  the  crumpled  end  : 

His  pleasure  is  to  turn  stafE,  use  the  point. 

And  thrust  the  shuddering  sheep,  he  calls  a  wolf. 

Back  and  back,  down  and  down  to  where  hell  gapes ! 

"  Guiltless,"  cries  Law  —  "  Guilty,"  corrects  the  Pope  ! 

"  Guilty,"  for  the  whim's  sake !    "  Guilty,"  he  somehow  thinks, 
And  anyhow  says  :  't  is  truth ;  he  dares  not  lie  ! 

Others  should  do  the  lying.     That 's  the  cause 
Brings  you  both  here  :  I  ought  in  decency 
Confess  to  you  that  I  deserve  my  fate, 
Am  guilty,  as  the  Pope  thinks,  —  ay,  to  the  end, 
Keep  up  the  jest,  lie  on,  lie  ever,  lie 
I'  the  latest  gasp  of  me  !     What  reason.  Sirs  ? 
Because  to-morrow  will  succeed  to-day 
For  you,  though  not  for  me  :  and  if  I  stick 
Still  to  the  truth,  declare  with  my  last  breath, 
I  die  an  innocent  and  murdered  man,  — 
Why,  there  's  the  tongue  of  Rome  wiU  wag  apace 
This  time  to-morrow,  —  don't  I  hear  the  talk ! 
"  So,  to  the  last  he  proved  impenitent  ? 
Paigans  have  said  as  much  of  martyred  saints  ! 
Law  demurred,  washed  her  hands  of  the  whole  case. 
Prince  Somebody  said  this,  Duke  Something,  that. 
Doubtless  the  man  's  dead,  dead  enough,  don't  fear ! 
But,  hang  it,  what  if  there  have  been  a  spice, 
A  touch  of  ...  eh  ?     You  see,  the  Pope  's  so  old. 
Some  of  us  add,  obtuse,  —  age  never  slips 
The  chance  of  shoving  youth  to  face  death  first !  " 
And  so  on.     Therefore  to  suppress  such  talk 
You  two  come  here,  entreat  1  tell  you  lies. 
And  end,  the  edifying  way.     I  end, 
Telling  the  truth !     Your  self-styled  shepherd  thieves  ! 
A  thief  —  and  how  thieves  hate  the  wolves  we  know  : 
Damage  to  theft,  damage  to  thrift,  aU  's  one  ! 
The  red  hand  is  sworn  foe  of  the  black  jaw. 
That 's  only  natural,  that 's  right  enough  : 
But  why  the  wolf  should  compliment  the  thief 
With  shepherd's  title,  bark  out  life  in  thanks, 
And,  spiteless,  lick  the  prong  that  spits  him,  —  eh. 
Cardinal  ?     My  Abate,  scarcely  thus  ! 
There,  let  my  sheepskin-garb,  a  curse  on  't,  go  — 
Leave  my  teeth  free  if  I  must  show  my  shag ! 


414        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Repent  ?     "What  good  shall  follow  ?     If  I  pass 

Twelve  hours  repenting,  will  that  fact  hold  fast 

The  thirteenth  at  the  horrid  dozen's  end  ? 

If  I  faU  forthwith  at  your  feet,  gnash,  tear. 

Foam,  rare,  to  give  your  story  the  due  grace, 

WUl  that  assist  the  engine  half-way  back 

Into  its  hiding-house  ?  —  boards,  shaking  now. 

Bone  against  bone,  like  some  old  skeleton  bat 

That  wants,  at  winter's  end,  to  wake  and  prey ! 

WUl  howling  put  the  spectre  back  to  sleep  ? 

Ah,  but  I  misconceive  your  object.  Sirs  ! 

Since  I  want  new  life  like  the  creature,  —  life. 

Being  done  with  here,  begins  i'  the  world  away : 

I  shall  next  have  "  Come,  mortals,  and  be  judged !  " 

There  's  but  a  minute  betwixt  this  and  then : 

So,  quick,  be  sorry  since  it  saves  my  soul ! 

Sirs,  truth  shall  save  it,  since  no  lies  assist ! 

Hear  the  truth,  you,  whatever  you  style  yourselves, 

Civilization  and  society ! 

Come,  one  good  grapple,  I  with  all  the  world  ! 

Dying  in  cold  blood  is  the  desperate  thing ; 

The  angry  heart  explodes,  bears  off  in  blaze 

The  indignant  soul,  and  I  'm  combustion-ripe. 

Why,  you  intend  to  do  your  worst  with  me  ! 

That 's  in  your  eyes !     You  dare  no  more  than  death, 

And  mean  no  less.     I  must  make  up  my  mind  ! 

So  Pietro  —  when  I  chased  him  here  and  there. 

Morsel  by  morsel  cut  away  the  life 

I  loathed  —  cried  for  just  respite  to  confess 

And  save  his  soul :  much  respite  did  I  grant ! 

Why  grant  me  respite  who  deserve  my  doom  ? 

Me  —  who  engaged  to  play  a  prize,  fight  you, 

Knowing  your  arms,  and  foil  you,  trick  for  trick, 

At  rapier-fence,  your  match  and,  maybe,  more. 

I  knew  that  if  I  chose  sin  certain  sins. 

Solace  my  lusts  out  of  the  regular  way 

Prescribed  me,  I  should  find  you  in  the  path. 

Have  to  try  skill  with  a  redoubted  foe ; 

You  would  lunge,  I  would  parry,  and  make  end. 

At  last,  occasion  of  a  murder  comes  : 

We  cross  blades,  I,  for  aU  my  brag,  break  guard. 

And  in  goes  the  cold  iron  at  my  breast, 

Out  at  my  back,  and  end  is  made  of  me. 

You  stand  confessed  the  adroiter  swordsman,  —  ay, 

But  on  your  triumph  you  increase,  it  seems, 

Want  more  of  me  than  lying  flat  on  face  : 


GUIDO  415 

I  ought  to  raise  my  ruined  head,  allege 
Not  simply  I  pushed  worse  blade  o'  the  pair, 
But  my  antagonist  dispensed  with  steel ! 
There  was  no  passage  of  arms,  you  looked  me  low, 
With  brow  and  eye  abolished  cut-and-thrust, 
Nor  used  the  vulgar  weapon !     This  chance  scratch, 
This  incidental  hurt,  this  sort  of  hole 
I'  the  heart  of  me  ?     I  stumbled,  got  it  so ! 
Fell  on  my  own  sword  as  a  bungler  may ! 
Yourself  proscribe  such  heathen  tools,  and  trust 
To  the  naked  virtue :  it  was  virtue  stood 
Unarmed  and  awed  me,  —  on  my  brow  there  burned 
Crime  out  so  plainly,  intolerably  red. 
That  I  was  fain  to  cry  —  "  Down  to  the  dust 
With  me,  and  bury  there  brow,  brand  and  all !  " 
Law  had  essayed  the  adventure,  —  but  what 's  Law  ? 
Morality  exposed  the  Gorgon  shield ! 
Morality  and  Religion  conquer  me. 
If  Law  sufficed  would  you  come  here,  entreat 
I  supplement  law,  and  confess  forsooth  ? 
Did  not  the  Trial  show  things  plain  enough  ? 
"  Ah,  but  a  word  of  the  man's  very  self 
Would  somehow  put  the  keystone  in  its  place 
And  crown  the  arch !  "     Then  take  the  word  you  want ! 

I  say  that,  long  ago,  when  things  began, 

AH  the  world  made  agreement,  such  and  such 

Were  pleasure-giving  profit-bearing  acts, 

But  henceforth  extra-legal,  nor  to  be  : 

You  must  not  kill  the  man  whose  death  would  please 

And  profit  you,  unless  his  life  stop  yours 

Plainly,  and  need  so  be  put  aside : 

Get  the  thing  by  a  public  course,  by  law, 

Only  no  private  bloodshed  as  of  old ! 

All  of  us,  for  the  good  of  every  one, 

Renounced  such  license  and  conformed  to  law  : 

Who  breaks  law,  breaks  pact  therefore,  helps  himself 

To  pleasure  and  profit  over  and  above  the  due. 

And  must  pay  forfeit,  —  pain  beyond  his  share : 

For,  pleasure  being  the  sole  good  in  the  world. 

Any  one's  pleasure  turns  to  some  one's  pain. 

So,  law  must  watch  for  every  one,  —  say  we, 

Who  call  things  wicked  that  give  too  much  joy. 

And  nickname  mere  reprisal,  envy  makes, 

Punishment :  quite  right !  thus  the  world  goes  round. 

I,  being  well  aware  such  pact  there  was, 


416  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

I,  in  my  time  who  found  advantage  come 

Of  law's  observance  and  crime's  penalty,  — 

Who,  but  for  wholesome  fear  law  bred  in  friends. 

Had  doubtless  given  example  long  ago, 

Furnished  forth  some  friend's  pleasure  with  my  pain, 

And,  by  my  death,  pieced  out  his  scanty  life,  — 

I  could  not,  for  that  foolish  life  of  me, 

Help  risking  law's  infringement,  —  I  broke  bond, 

And  needs  must  pay  price,  — wherefore,  here  's  my  head. 

Flung  with  a  flourish !     But,  repentance  too  ? 

But  pure  and  simple  sorrow  for  law's  breach 

Bather  than  blunderer's-ineptitude  ? 

Cardinal,  no  !     Abate,  scarcely  thus  ! 

'T  is  the  fault,  not  that  I  dared  try  a  fall 

With  Law  and  straightway  am  found  undermost, 

But  that  I  failed  to  see,  above  man's  law, 

God's  precept  you,  the  Christians,  recognize  ? 

Colly  my  cow  !     Don't  fidget.  Cardinal ! 

Abate,  cross  your  breast  and  count  your  beads 

And  exorcise  the  devil,  for  here  he  stands 

And  stiffens  in  the  bristly  nape  of  neck. 

Daring  you  drive  him  hence !     You,  Christians  both  ? 

I  say,  if  ever  was  such  faith  at  all 

Born  in  the  world,  by  your  community 

Suffered  to  live  its  little  tick  of  time, 

'T  is  dead  of  age,  now,  ludictously  dead  ; 

Honor  its  ashes,  if  you  be  discreet, 

In  epitaph  only  !     For,  concede  its  death. 

Allow  extinction,  you  may  boast  unchecked 

What  feats  the  thing  did  in  a  crazy  land 

At  a  fabulous  epoch,  —  treat  your  faith,  that  way. 

Just  as  you  treat  your  relics :  "  Here  's  a  shred 

Of  saintly  flesh,  a  scrap  of  blessed  bone. 

Raised  King  Cophetua,  who  was  dead,  to  life 

In  Mesopotamy  twelve  centuries  since. 

Such  was  its  virtue  !  "  —  twangs  the  Sacristan, 

Holding  the  shrine-box  up,  with  hands  like  feet 

Because  of  gout  in  every  finger-joint : 

Does  he  bethink  him  to  reduce  one  knob. 

Allay  one  twinge  by  touching  what  he  vaunts  ? 

I  think  he  half  uncrooks  fist  to  catch  fee. 

But,  for  the  grace,  the  quality  of  cure,  — 

Cophetua  was  the  man  put  tkat  to  proof  ! 

Not  otherwise,  your  faith  is  shrined  and  shown 

And  shamed  at  once  :  you  banter  while  yOu  bow  I 

Do  you  dispute  this  ?     Come,  a  monster-laiigh, 


GUIDO  417 

A  madman's  laugh,  allowed  his  Carnival 
Later  ten  days  than  when  all  Rome,  but  he, 
Laughed  at  the  candle-contest :  mine 's  alight, 
'T  is  just  it  sputter  till  the  puff  o'  the  Pope 
End  it  to-morrow  and  the  world  turn  Ash. 
"Come,  thus  I  wave  a  wand  and  bring  to  pass 
In  a  moment,  in  the  twinkle  of  an  eye. 
What  but  that  —  feigning  everywhere  grows  fact, 
Professors  turn  possessors,  realize 
The  faith  they  play  with  as  a  fancy  now. 
And  bid  it  operate,  have  full  efBect 
On  every  circumstance  of  life,  to-day. 
In  Rome,  —  faith's  flow  set  free  at  fountain-head  ! 
Now,  you'll  own,  at  this  present, when  I  speak. 
Before  I  work  the  wonder,  there 's  no  man 
Woman  or  child  in  Rome,  faith's  fountain-head. 
But  might,  if  each  were  minded,  realize 
Conversely  unbeHef,  faith's  opposite  — 
Set  it  to  work  on  life  unflinchingly. 
Yet  give  no  symptom  of  an  outward  change  : 
Why  should  things  change  because  men  disbeUevie  ? 
What 's  incompatible,  in  the  whited  tomb, 
With  bones  and  rottenness  one  inch  below  ? 
What  saintly  act  is  done  in  Rome  to-day 
But  might  be  prompted  by  the  devil,  —  "  is  " 
I  say  not,  —  "  has  been,  and  again  may  be,"  — 
I  do  say,  full  i'  the  face  o'  the  crucifix 
You  try  to  stop  my  mouth  with !     Off  with  it ! 
Look  in  your  own  heai-t,  if  your  soul  have  eyes ! 
You  shall  see  reason  why,  though  faith  were  fled, 
Unbelief  stUl  might  work  the  wires  and  move 
Man,  the  machine,  to  play  a  faithful  part. 
Preside  your  college.  Cardinal,  in  your  cape, 
Or,  —  having  got  above  his  head,  grown  Pope,  — 
Abate,  gird  your  loins  and  wash  my  feet ! 
Do  you  suppose  I  am  at  loss  at  all 
Why  you  crook,  why  you  cringe,  why  fast  or  feast  ? 
Praise,  blame,  sit,  stand,  lie  or  go  !  —  all  of  it, 
In  each  of  you,  purest  unbelief  may  prompt. 
And  wit  explain  to  who  has  eyes  to  see. 
But,  lo,  I  wave  wand,  make  the  false  the  true  ! 
Here 's  Rome  believes  in  Christianity  ! 
What  an  explosion,  how  the  fragments  fly 
Of  what  was  surface,  mask  and  make-believe  ! 
Begin  now,  —  look  at  this  Pope's-halberdiev 
In  wasp-like  black  and  yellow  foolery ! 


418  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

He,  doing  duty  at  the  corridor, 

Wakes  from  a  muse  and  stands  convinced  of  sin ! 

Down  he  flings  halbert,  leaps  the  passage-length, 

Pushes  into  the  presence,  pantingly 

Submits  the  extreme  peril  of  the  case 

To  the  Pope's  self,  —  whom  in  the  world  beside  ?  — 

And  the  Pope  breaks  talk  with  ambassador. 

Bids  aside  bishop,  wills  the  whole  world  wait 

Till  he  secure  that  prize,  outweighs  the  world, 

A  soul,  relieve  the  sentry  of  his  qualm  ! 

His  Altitude  the  Referendary  — 

Robed  right,  and  ready  for  the  usher's  word 

To  pay  devoir  —  is,  of  all  times,  just  then 

'Ware  of  a  master-stroke  of  argument 

Will  cut  the  spinal  cord  .  .  .  ugh,  ugh !  .  .  .  I  mean, 

Paralyze  Molinism  f  orevermore  ! 

Straight  he  leaves  lobby,  trundles,  two  and  two, 

Down  steps  to  reach  home,  write,  if  but  a  word 

Shall  end  the  impudence  :  he  leaves  who  Ukes 

Go  pacify  the  Pope :  there  's  Christ  to  serve ! 

How  otherwise  would  men  display  their  zeal  ? 

If  the  same  sentry  had  the  least  surmise 

A  powder-barrel  'neath  the  pavement  lay 

In  neighborhood  with  what  might  prove  a  match. 

Meant  to  blow  sky-high  Pope  and  presence  both  — 

Would  he  not  break  through  courtiers,  rank  and  file, 

Bundle  up,  bear  off,  and  save  body  so. 

The  Pope,  no  matter  for  his  priceless  soul  ? 

There  's  no  fool's-freak  here,  nought  to  soundly  swinge, 

Only  a  man  in  earnest,  you  '11  so  praise 

And  pay  and  prate  about,  that  earth  shall  ring ! 

Had  thought  possessed  the  Referendary 

His  jewel-case  at  home  was  left  ajar. 

What  would  be  wrong  in  running,  robes  awry. 

To  be  beforehand  with  the  pilferer  ? 

What  talk  then  of  indecent  haste  ?    Which  means, 

That  both  these,  each  in  his  degree,  would  do 

Just  that  —  for  a  comparative  nothing's  sake. 

And  thereby  gain  approval  and  reward  — 

Which,  done  for  what  Christ  says  is  worth  the  world, 

Procures  the  doer  curses,  cufPs  and  kicks. 

I  call  such  difference  'twixt  act  and  act. 

Sheer  lunacy  unless  your  truth  on  lip 

Be  recognized  a  lie  in  heart  of  you ! 

How  do  you  all  act,  promptly  or  in  doubt. 

When  there  's  a  guest  poisoned  at  supper-time 


GUIDO  419 

And  he  sits  chatting  on  with  spot  on  cheek  ? 

"  Pluck  him  by  the  skirt,  and  round  him  in  the  ears, 
Have  at  him  by  the  beard,  warn  anyhow !  " 
Good ;  and  this  other  friend  that 's  cheat  and  thief 
And  dissolute,  —  go  stop  the  devil's  feast. 
Withdraw  him  from  the  imminent  hell-fire  ! 
Why,  for  your  life,  you  dare  not  tell  your  friend, 

"  You  lie,  and  I  admonish  you  for  Christ !  " 
Who  yet  dare  seek  that  same  man  at  the  Mass 
To  warn  him  —  on  his  knees,  and  tinkle  near,  — 
He  left  a  cask  a-tilt,  a  tap  unturned. 
The  Trebbian  running :  what  a  grateful  jump 
Out  of  the  Church  rewards  your  vigilance ! 
Perform  that  selfsame  service  just  a  thought 
More  maladroitly,  —  since  a  bishop  sits 
At  function !  —  and  he  budges  not,  bites  lip,  — 

"  You  see  my  case  :  how  can  I  quit  my  post  ? 
He  has  an  eye  to  any  such  default. 
See  to  it,  neighbor,  I  beseech  your  love  !  " 
He  and  you  kfiow  the  relative  worth  of  things, 
What  is  permissible  or  inopportune. 
Contort  your  brows  !     You  know  I  speak  the  truth : 
Gold  is  called  gold,  and  dross  called  dross,  i'  the  Book : 
Gold  you  let  lie  and  dross  pick  up  and  prize  ! 
—  Despite  your  muster  of  some  fifty  monks 
And  nuns  armaundering  here  and  mumping  there, 
Who  could,  and  on  occasion  would,  spurn  dross, 
Clutch  gold,  and  prove  their  faith  a  fact  so  far,  — 
I  grant  you !     Fifty  times  the  number  squeak 
And  gibber  in  the   madhouse  —  firm  of  faith. 
This  fellow,  that  his  nose  supports  the  moon  ; 
The  other,  that  his  straw  hat  crowns  him  Pope : 
Does  that  prove  aU  the  world  outside  insane  ? 
Do  fifty  miracle-mongers  match  the  mob 
That  acts  on  the  frank  faithless  principle, 
Born-baptized-and-bred  Christian-atheists,  each 
With  just  as  much  a  right  to  judge  as  you,  — 
As  many  senses  in  his  soul,  and  nerves 
I'  neck  of  him  as  I,  —  whom,  soul  and  sense, 
Neck  and  nerve,  you  abolish  presently,  — 
I  being  the  unit  in  creation  now 
Who  pay  the  Maker,  in  this  speech  of  mine, 
A  creature's  duty,  spend  my  last  of  breath 
In  bearing  witness,  even  by  my  worst  fault. 
To  the  creature's  obligation,  absolute. 
Perpetual :  my  worst  fault  protests,  "  The  faith 


420  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Claims  all  of  me  :  I  would  give  all  she  claims, 

But  for  a  spice  of  doubt :  the  risk 's  too  rash : 

Double  or  quits,  I  play,  but,  all  or  nought, 

Exceeds  my  courage :  therefore,  I  descend 

To  the  next  faith  with  no  dubiety  — 

Faith  in  the  present  life,  made  last  as  long 

And  prove  as  fuU  of  pleasure  as  may  hap, 

Whatever  pain  it  cause  the  world."     I  'm  wrong  ? 

I  've  had  my  life,  whate'er  I  lose  :  I  'm  right  ? 

I  've  got  the  single  good  there  was  to  gain. 

Entire  faith,  or  else  complete  unbelief ! 

Aught  between  has  my  loathing  and  contempt, 

Mine  and  God's  also,  doubtless  :  ask  yourself, 

Cardinal,  where  and  how  you  like  a  man ! 

Why,  either  with  your  feet  upon  his  head, 

Confessed  your  caudatory,  or,  at  large. 

The  stranger  in  the  crowd  who  caps  to  you 

But  keeps  his  distance,  —  why  should  he  presume  ? 

You  want  no  hanger-on  and  dropper-off, 

Now  yours,  and  now  not  yours  but  quite  Jiis  own. 

According  as  the  sky  looks  black  or  bright. 

Just  so  I  capped  to  and  kept  o£B  from  faith  — 

You  promised  trudge  behind  through  fair  and  foul. 

Yet  leave  i'  the  lurch  at  the  first  spit  of  rain. 

Who  holds  to  faith  whenever  rain  begins  ? 

What  does  the  father  when  his  sou  lies  dead. 

The  merchant  when  his  money-bags  take  wing, 

The  politician  whom  a  rival  ousts  ? 

No  case  but  has  its  conduct,  faith  prescribes  : 

Where  's  the  obedience  that  shall  edify  ? 

Why,  they  laugh  frankly  in  the  face  of  faith 

And  take  the  natural  course,  —  this  rends  his  hair 

Because  his  child  is  taken  to  God's  breast. 

That  gnashes  teeth  and  raves  at  loss  of  trash 

Which  rust  corrupts  and  thieves  break  through  and  steal, 

And  this,  enabled  to  inherit  earth 

Through  meekness,  curses  tiU  your  blood  runs  cold  ! 

Down  they  all  drop  to  my  low  level,  rest 

Heart  upon  dungy  earth  that 's  warm  and  soft, 

And  let  who  please  attempt  the  altitudes. 

Each  playing  prodigal  son  of  heavenly  sire. 

Turning  his  nose  up  at  the  fatted  calf, 

Fain  to  fiU  belly  with  the  husks,  we  swine 

Did  eat  by  born  depravity  of  taste ! 

Enough  of  the  hypocrites.     But  you.  Sirs,  you  — 
Who  never  budged  from  litter  where  I  lay. 


GUIBO  421 

And  buried  snout  i'  the  draff-box  while  I  fed, 
Cried  amen  to  my  creed's  one  article  — 

"  Get  pleasure,  'scape  pain,  —  give  your  preference 
To  the  immediate  good,  for  time  is  brief, 
And  death  ends  good  and  ill  and  everything ! 
What 's  got  is  gained,  what 's  gained  soon  is  gained  twice, 
And  —  inasmuch  as  faith  gains  most  —  feign  faith !  " 
So  did  we  brother-like  pass  word  about : 
—  You,  now,  —  like  bloody  drunkards  but  half-drunk, 
"Who  fool  men  yet  perceive  men  find  them  fools,  ^ 
Vexed  that  a  titter  gains  the  gravest  mouth,  — ■ 
O'  the  sudden  you  must  needs  reintroduce 
Solemnity,  straight  sober  undue  mirth 
By  a  blow  dealt  me  your  boon  companion  here, 
Who,  using  the  old  license,  dreamed  of  harm 
No  more  than  snow  in  harvest  \  yet  it  falls ! 
You  check  the  merriment  effectually 
By  pushing  your  abrupt  machine  i'  the  midst, 
Making  me  B;ome's  example  :  blood  for  wine  ! 
The  general  good  needs  that  you  chop  and  change ! 
I  may  dishke  the  hocus-pocus,  —  Rome, 
The  laughter-loving  people,  won't  they  stare 
ChapfaUen !  —  while  serious  natures  sermonize, 

"  The  magistrate,  he  beareth  not  the  sword 
In  vain ;  who  sins  may  taste  its  edge,  we  see !  " 
Why  my  sin,  drunkards  ?     Where  have  I  abused 
Liberty,  scandalized  you  all  so  much  ? 
Who  called  me,  who  crooked  finger  tUl  I  came, 
Fool  that  I  was,  to  join  companionship  ? 
I  knew  my  own  mind,  meant  to  live  my  life. 
Elude  your  envy,  or  else  make  a  stand. 
Take  my  own  part  and  sell  you  my  life  dear. 
But  it  was  "  Fie  !     No  prejudice  in  the  world 
To  the  proper  manly  instinct !     Cast  your  lot 
Into  our  lap,  one  genius  ruled  our  births. 
We  '11  compass  joy  by  concert ;  take  with  us 
The  regular  irregular  way  i'  the  wood  ; 
You  '11  miss  no  game  through  riding  breast  by  breast, 
In  this  preserve,  the  Church's  park  and  pale. 
Rather  than  outside  where  the  world  lies  waste  !  " 
Come,  if  you  said  not  that,  did  you  say  this  ? 
Give  plain  and  terrible  warning,  "  Live,  enjoy  ! 
Such  life  begins  in  death  and  ends  in  hell ! 
Dare  you  bid  us  assist  your  sins,  us  priests 
Who  hurry  sin  and  sinners  from  the  earth  ? 
No  such  delight  for  us,  why  then  for  you  ? 


422  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Leave  earth,  seek  heaven  or  find  its  opposite  !  " 
Had  you  so  warned  me,  not  in  lying  words 
But  veritable  deeds  with  tongues  of  flame, 
That  had  been  fair,  that  might  have  struck  a  man, 
Silenced  the  squabble  between  soul  and  sense, 
Compelled  him  to  make  mind  up,  take  one  course 
Or  the  other,  peradventure  !  —  wrong  or  right, 
Foolish  or  wise,  you  would  have  been  at  least 
Sincere,  no  question,  —  forced  me  choose,  indulge 
Or  else  renounce  my  instincts,  stLU  play  wolf 
Or  find  my  way  submissive  to  your  fold. 
Be  red-crossed  on  my  fleece,  one  sheep  the  more. 
But  you  as  good  as  bade  me  wear  sheep's-wool 
Over  wolf's-skin,  suck  blood  and  hide  the  noise 
By  mimicry  of  something  like  a  bleat,  — 
Whence  it  comes  that  because,  despite  my  care, 
Because  I  smack  my  tongue  too  loud  for  once. 
Drop  baaing,  here  's  the  village  up  in  arms  ! 
Have  at  the  wolf's  throat,  you  who  hate  the  breed ! 
Oh,  were  it  only  open  yet  to  choose  — 
One  little  time  more  —  whether  I  'd  be  free 
Your  foe,  or  subsidized  your  friend  forsooth ! 
Should  not  you  get  a  growl  through  the  white  fangs 
In  answer  to  your  beckoning  !     Cardinal, 
Abate,  managers  o'  the  multitude, 
I  'd  turn  your  gloved  hands  to  account,  be  sure ! 
You  should  manipulate  the  coarse  rough  mob  : 
'T  is  you  I  'd  deal  directly  with,  not  them,  — 
Using  your  fears  :  why  touch  the  thing  myself 
When  I  could  see  you  hunt,  and  then  cry  "  Shares  ! 
Quarter  the  carcass  or  we  quarrel ;  come. 
Here  's  the  world  ready  to  see  justice  done  !  " 
Oh,  it  had  been  a  desperate  game,  but  game 
Wherein  the  winner's  chance  were  worth  the  pains ! 
We  'd  try  conclusions !  — at  the  worst,  what  worse 
Than  this  Mannaia-machine,  each  minute's  talk 
Helps  push  an  inch  the  nearer  me  ?     Fool,  fool ! 

You  understand  me  and  forgive,  sweet  Sirs  ? 
I  blame  you,  tear  my  hair  and  tell  my  woe  — ■ 
All 's  but  a  flourish,  figure  of  rhetoric  ! 
One  must  try  each  expedient  to  save  life. 
One  makes  fools  look  foolisher  fifty-fold 
By  putting  in  their  place  men  wise  like  you, 
To  take  the  full  force  of  an  argument 
Would  buffet  their  stolidity  in  vain. 


GUIDO  423 

If  you  should  feel  aggrieved  by  the  mere  wind 

O'  the  blow  that  means  to  miss  you  and  maul  them, 

That 's  my  success  !     Is  it  not  folly,  now, 

To  say  with  folk,  "  A  plausible  defence  — 

We  see  through  notwithstanding,  and  reject "  ? 

Reject  the  plausible  they  do,  these  fools, 

Who  never  even  make  pretence  to  show 

One  point  beyond  its  plausibility 

In  favor  of  the  best  belief  they  hold  ! 

"  Saint  Somebody-or-other  raised  the  dead  :  " 
Did  he  ?     How  do  you  come  to  know  as  much  ? 

"  Know  it,  what  need  ?    The  story 's  plausible, 
Avouched  for  by  a  martyrologist. 
And  why  should  good  men  sup  on  cheese  and  leeks 
On  such  a  saint's  day,  if  there  were  no  saint  ?  " 
I  praise  the  wisdom  of  these  fools,  and  straight 
Tell  them  my  story —  "  plausible,  but  false  !  " 
False,  to  be  sure  !     What  else  can  story  be 
That  runs  —  a  young  wife  tired  of  an  old  spouse. 
Found  a  priest  whom  she  fled  away  with,  —  both 
Took  their  full  pleasure  in  the  two-days'  flight. 
Which  a  gray-headed  grayer-hearted  pair 
(Whose  best  boast  was,  their  life  had  been  a  lie) 
Helped  for  the  love  they  bore  all  liars.     Oh, 
Here  incredulity  begins  !     Indeed  ? 
Allow  then,  were  no  one  point  strictly  true. 
There 's  that  i'  the  tale  might  seem  like  truth  at  least 
To  the  unlucky  husband,  —  jaundiced  patch,  — 
Jealousy  maddens  people,  why  not  him  ? 
Say,  he  was  maddened,  so  forgivable ! 
Humanity  pleads  that  though  the  wife  were  true. 
The  priest  true,  and  the  pair  of  liars  true, 
They  might  seem  false  to  one  man  in  the  world  ! 
A  thousand  gnats  make  up  a  serpent's  sting, 
And  many  sly  soft  stimulants  to  wrath 
Compose  a  formidable  wrong  at  last, 
That  gets  called  easily  by  some  one  name 
Not  applicable  to  the  single  parts, 
And  so  draws  down  a  general  revenge. 
Excessive  if  you  take  crime,  fault  by  fault. 
Jealousy  !     I  have  known  a  score  of  plays, 
Were  listened  to  and  laughed  at  in  my  time 
As  like  the  every-day  life  on  all  sides. 
Wherein  the  husband,  mad  as  a  March  hare. 
Suspected  all  the  world  contrived  his  shame. 
What  did  the  "wife  ?     The  wife  kissed  both  eyes  blind, 


424  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Explained  away  ambiguous  circumstance, 

And  while  she  held  him  captive  by  the  hand, 

Crowned  his  head  —  you  know  what 's  the  mockery  — 

By  half  her  body  behind  the  curtain.     That 's 

Nature  now  !     That 's  the  subject  of  a  piece 

I  saw  in  Vallombrosa  Convent,  made 

Expressly  to  teach  men  what  marriage  was ! 

But  say,  "  Just  so  did  I  misapprehend, 

Imagine  she  deceived  me  to  my  face  !  " 

And  that 's  pretence  too  easily  seen  through ! 

AU  those  eyes  of  all  husbands  in  aU  plays, 

At  stare  like  one  expanded  peacock-tail. 

Are  laughed  at  for  pretending  to  be  keen 

While  horn-blind  :  but  the  moment  I  step  forth  — 

Oh,  I  must  needs  o'  the  sudden  prove  a  lynx 

And  look  the  heart,  that  stone-waU,  through  and  through! 

Such  an  eye,  God's  may  be,  —  not  yours  nor  mine. 

Yes,  presently  .  .  .  what  hour  is  fleeting  now  ? 
When  you  cut  earth  away  from  under  me, 
I  shall  be  left  alone  with,  pushed  beneath 
Some  such  an  apparitional  dread  orb 
As  the  eye  of  God,  since  such  an  eye  there  glares : 
I  fancy  it  go  filling  up  the  void 
Above  my  mote-self  it  devours,  or  what 
Proves  wrath,  immensity  wreaks  on  nothingness. 
Just  how  I  felt  once,  couching  through  the  dark, 
Hard  by  Vittiano  ;  young  I  was,  and  gay, 
And  wanting  to  trap  fieldfares  :  first  a  spark 
Tipped  a  bent,  as  a  mere  dew-globule  might 
Any  stiff  grass-stalk  on  the  meadow,  —  this 
Grew  fiercer,  flamed  out  full,  and  proved  the  sun. 
What  do  I  want  with  proverbs,  precepts  here  ? 
Away  with  man !     What  shall  I  say  to  God  ? 
This,  if  I  find  the  tongue  and  keep  the  mind  — 
"  Do  Thou  wipe  out  the  being  of  me,  and  smear 
This  soul  from  off  Thy  white  of  things,  I  blot ! 
I  am  one  huge  and  sheer  mistake,  —  whose  fault  ? 
Not  mine  at  least,  who  did  not  make  myself !  " 
Some  one  declares  my  wife  excused  me  so  ! 
Perhaps  she  knew  what  argument  to  use. 
Grind  your  teeth,  Cardinal,  Abate,  writhe  ! 
What  else  am  I  to  cry  out  in  my  rage. 
Unable  to  repent  one  particle 
O'  the  past  ?     Oh,  how  I  wish  some  cold  wise  man 
Would  dig  beneath  the  surface  which  you  scrape, 


GUIDO  425 

Deal  with  the  depths,  pronounce  on  my  desert 

Groundedly  !     I  want  simple  sober  sense, 

That  asks,  before  it  finishes  with  a  dog, 

Who  taught  the  dog  that  trick  you  hang  him  for  ? 

You  both  persist  to  call  that  act  a  crime, 

Which  sense  would  call  .  .  .  yes,  I  maintain  it,  Sirs,  •  .  o 

A  blunder  !     At  the  worst,  I  stood  in  doubt 

On  cross-road,  took  one  path  of  many  paths : 

It  leads  to  the  red  thing,  we  aU  see  now. 

But  nobody  saw  at  first :  one  primrose-patch 

In  bank,  one  singing-bird  in  bush,  the  less. 

Had  warned  me  from  such  wayfare  :  let  me  prove ! 

Put  me  back  to  the  cross-road,  start  afresh ! 

Advise  me  when  I  take  the  first  false  step ! 

Give  me  my  wife  :  how  should  I  use  my  wife, 

Love  her  or  hate  her  ?     Prompt  my  action  now  ! 

There  she  is,  there  she  stands  alive  and  pale, 

The  thirteen-years'-old  child,  with  milk  for  blood, 

Pompilia  Comparini,  as  at  first, 

Which  first  is  only  four  brief  years  ago ! 

I  stand  too  in  the  little  ground-floor  room 

O'  the  father's  house  at  Via  Vittoria  :  see  ! 

Her  so-called  mother  —  one  arm  round  the  waist 

O'  the  child  to  keep  her  from  the  toys,  let  fall 

At  wonder  I  can  live  yet  look  so  grim  — 

Ushers  her  in,  with  deprecating  wave 

Of  the  other,  —  and  she  fronts  me  loose  at  last, 

Held  only  by  the  mother's  finger-tip. 

Struck  dumb,  for  she  was  white  enough  before  ! 

She  eyes  me  with  those  frightened  balLs  of  black, 

As  heifer  —  the  old  simile  comes  pat  — 

Eyes  tremblingly  the  altar  and  the  priest. 

The  amazed  look,  all  one  insuppressive  prayer,  — 

Might  she  but  breathe,  set  free  as  heretofore. 

Have  this  cup  leave  her  lips  unblistered,  bear 

Any  cross  anywhither  anyhow. 

So  but  alone,  so  but  apart  from  me  ! 

You  are  touched  ?     So  am  I,  quite  otherwise, 

If  't  is  with  pity.     I  resent  my  wrong, 

Being  a  man  :    I  only  show  man's  soul 

Through  man's  flesh  :  she  sees  mine,  it  strikes  her  thus  I 

Is  that  attractive  ?     To  a  youth  perhaps  — - 

Calf-creature,  one-part  boy  to  three-parts  girl, 

To  whom  it  is  a  flattering  novelty 

That  he,  men  use  to  motion  from  their  path, 

Can  thus  impose,  thus  terrify  in  turn 


426  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

A  chit  whose  terror  shall  be  changed  apace 
To  bliss  unbearable  when,  grace  and  glow, 
Prowess  and  pride  descend  the  throne  and  touch 
Esther  in  all  that  pretty  tremble,  cured 
By  the  dove  o'  the  sceptre  !     But  myself  am  old, 
O'  the  wane  at  least,  in  aU  things  :  what  do  you  say 
To  her  who  frankly  thus  confirms  my  doubt  ? 
I  am  past  the  prime,  I  scare  the  woman-world, 
Done-with  that  way  :  you  like  this  piece  of  news  ? 
A  little  saucy  rose-bud  minx  can  strike 
Death-damp  into  the  breast  of  doughty  king 
Though  't  were  French  Louis,  —  soul  I  understand,  - 
Saying,  by  gesture  of  repugnance,  just 

"  Sire,  you  are  regal,  puissant,  and  so  forth. 
But  —  young  you  have  been,  are  not,  nor  will  be  !  " 
In  vain  the  mother  nods,  winks,  bustles  up, 

"  Count,  girls  incline  to  mature  worth  like  you  ! 
As  for  PompUia,  what  's  flesh,  fish  or  fowl 
To  one  who  apprehends  no  difference. 
And  would  accept  you  even  were  you  old 
As  you  are  .  .  .  youngish  by  her  father's  side? 
Trim  but  your  beard  a  little,  thin  your  bush 
Of  eyebrow ;  and  for  presence,  portUness, 
And  decent  gravity,  you  beat  a  boy  !  " 
Deceive  yourself  one  minute,  if  you  may, 
In  presence  of  the  child  that  so  loves  age. 
Whose  neck  writhes,  cords  itself  against  your  kiss, 
Whose  hand  you  wring  stark,  rigid  with  despair ! 
Well,  I  resent  this  ;  I  am  young  in  soul, 
Nor  old  in  body,  —  thews  and  sinews  here,  — 
Though  the  vile  surface  be  not  smooth  as  once,  — 
Far  beyond  that  first  wheelwork  which  went  wrong 
Through  the  untemipered  iron  ere  't  was  proof : 
I  am  the  rock  man  worth  ten  times  the  crude,  — 
Would  woman  see  what  this  declines  to  see. 
Declines  to  say  "  I  see,"  —  the  officious  word 
That  makes  the  thing,  pricks  on  the  soul  to  shoot 
New  fire  into  the  half-used  cinder,  flesh ! 
Therefore  't  is  she  begins  with  vraonging  me, 
Who  cannot  but  begin  with  hating  her. 
Our  marriage  follows  :  there  she  stands  again ! 
Why  do  I  laugh  ?     Why,  in  the  very  gripe 
O'  the  jaws  of  death's  gigantic  skull,  do  I 
Grin  back  his  grin,  make  sport  of  my  own  pangs  ? 
Why  from  each  clashing  of  his  molars,  ground 
To  make  the  devil  bread  from  out  my  grist. 


GUIDO  427 

Leaps  out  a  spark  of  mirth,  a  hellish  toy  ? 

Take  notice  we  are  lovers  in  a  church, 

Waiting  the  sacrament  to  make  us  one 

And  happy !     Just  as  bid,  she  bears  herself, 

Comes  and  kneels,  rises,  speaks,  is  silent,  —  goes  : 

So  have  I  brought  my  horse,  by  word  and  blow, 

To  stand  stock-still  and  front  the  fire  he  dreads. 

How  can  I  other  than  remember  this, 

Eesent  the  very  obedience  ?     Gain  thereby  ? 

Yes,  I  do  gain  my  end  and  have  my  will,  — 

Thanks  to  whom  ?     When  the  mother  speaks  the  word, 

She  obeys  it  —  even  to  enduring  me  ! 

There  had  been  compensation  in  revolt  — 

Revolt  's  to  quell :  but  martyrdom  rehearsed. 

But  predetermined  saintship  for  the  sake 

O'  the  mother  ?  —  "  Go  !  "  thought  I,  "  we  meet  again !  " 

Pass  the  next  weeks  of  dumb  contented  death, 

She  lives,  —  wakes  up,  installed  in  house  and  home. 

Is  mine,  mine  all  day-long,  all  night-long  mine. 

Good  folk  begin  at  me  with  open  mouth  : 

''  Now,  at  least,  reconcile  the  ehUd  to  life  ! 
Study  and  make  her  love  .  .  .  that  is,  endure 
The  .  .  .  hem  !  the  ...  all  of  you  though  somewhat  old. 
Till  it  amount  to  something,  in  her  eye. 
As  good  as  love,  better  a  thousand  times,  — 
Since  nature  helps  the  woman  in  such  strait, 
Makes  passiveness  her  pleasure  :  failing  which. 
What  if  you  give  up  boy-and-girl-fools'-play 
And  go  on  to  wise  friendship  all  .at  once  ? 
Those  boys  and  girls  kiss  themselves  cold,  you  know, 
Toy  themselves  tired  and  slink  aside  full  soon 
To  friendship,  as  they  name  satiety  : 
Thither  go  you  and  wait  their  coming !  "     Thanks, 
Considerate  advisers,  —  but,  fair  play  ! 
Had  you  and  I,  friends,  started  fair  at  first 
We,  keeping  fair,  might  reach  it,  neck  by  neck. 
This  blessed  goal,  whenever  fate  so  please : 
But  why  am  I  to  miss  the  daisied  mile 
The  course  begins  with,  why  obtain  the  dust 
Of  the  end  precisely  at  the  starting-point  ? 
Why  quaff  life's  cup  blown  free  of  all  the  beads. 
The  bright  red  froth  wherein  our  beard  should  steep 
Before  our  mouth  essay  the  black  o'  the  wine  ? 
Foolish,  the  love-fit?     Let  me  prove  it  such 
Like  you,  before  like  you  I  puff  things  clear ! 

"  The  best  's  to  come,  no  rapture  but  content ! 


i28        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Not  love's  first  glory  but  a  sober  glow, 

Not  a  spontaneous  outburst  in  pure  boon, 

So  much  as,  gained  by  patience,  care  and  toil. 

Proper  appreciation  and  esteem !  " 

Go  preach  that  to  your  nephews,  not  to  me 

Who,  tired  i'  the  midway  of  my  life,  would  stop 

And  take  my  first  refreshmeut,  pluck  a  rose : 

What 's  this  coarse  wooUy  hip,  worn  smooth  of  leaf, 

You  counsel  I  go  plant  in  garden-plot, 

Water  with  tears,  manure  with  sweat  and  blood, 

In  confidence  the  seed  shall  germinate 

And,  for  its  very  best,  some  far-off  day, 

Grow  big,  and  blow  me  out  a  dog-rose  bell  ? 

Why  must  your  nephews  begin  breathing  spice 

O'  the  hundred-petalled  Provence  prodigy  ? 

Nay,  more  and  worse,  —  would  such  my  root  bear  rose  — 

Prove  really  flower  and  favorite,  not  the  kind 

That 's  queen,  but  those  three  leaves  that  make  one  cup 

And  hold  the  hedge-bird's  breakfast,  —  then  indeed 

The  prize  though  poor  would  pay  tKe  care  and  toil ! 

Respect  we  Nature  that  makes  least  as  most. 

Marvellous  in  the  minim !     But  this  bud. 

Bit  through  and  bui'ned  black  by  the  tempter's  tooth, 

This  bloom  whose  best  grace  was  the  slug  outside 

And  the  wasp  inside  its  bosom,  —  call  you  "  rose  "  ? 

Claim  no  immunity  from  a  weed's  fate 

For  the  horrible  present !     What  you  call  my  wife 

I  call  a  nullity  in  female  shape. 

Vapid  disgust,  soon  to  be  pungent  plague. 

When  mixed  with,  made  confusion  and  a  curse 

By  two  abominable  nondescripts. 

That  father  and  that  mother  :  think  you  see 

The  dreadful  bronze  our  boast,  we  Aretines, 

The  Etruscan  monster,  the  three-headed  thing, 

BeUerophon's  foe  !     How  name  you  the  whole  beast  ? 

You  choose  to  name  the  body  from  one  head, 

That  of  the  simple  kid  which  droops  the  eye. 

Hangs  the  neck  and  dies  tenderly  enough : 

I  rather  see  the  griesly  lion  belch 

Flame  out  i'  the  midst,  the  serpent  writhe  her  rings, 

Grafted  into  the  common  stock  for  tail. 

And  name  the  brute,  Chimaera,  which  I  slew  ! 

How  was  there  ever  more  to  be  —  (concede 

My  wife's  insipid  harmless  nullity)  — 

Dissociation  from  that  pair  of  plagues  — 

That  mother  with  her  cunning  and  her  cant  — 


GUIDO  429 

The  eyes  with  first  their  twinkle  of  conceit, 
Then,  dropped  to  earth  in  mock-demureness,  —  now, 
The  smile  self-satisfied  from  ear  to  ear, 
Now,  the  prim  pursed-up  mouth's  protruded  lips, 
With  deferential  duck,  slow  swing  of  head. 
Tempting  the  sudden  fist  of  man  too  much,  — 
That  owl-like  screw  of  lid  and  rock  of  ru£E ! 
As  for  the  father,  —  Cardinal,  you  know. 
The  kind  of  idiot !  —  such  are  rife  in  Borne, 
But  they  wear  velvet  commonly  ;  good  fools. 
At  the  end  of  life,  to  furnish  forth  young  folk 
Who  grin  and  bear  with  imbecility  : 
Since  the  stalled  ass,  the  joker,  sheds  from  jaw 
Corn,  in  the  joke,  for  those  who  laugh  or  starve. 
But  what  say  we  to  the  same  solemn  beast 
Wagging  his  ears  and  wishful  of  our  pat. 
When  turned,  with  holes  in  hide  and  bones  laid  bare, 
To  forage  for  himself  i'  the  waste  o'  the  world. 
Sir  Dignity  i'  the  dumps  ?     Pat  him  ?     We  drub 
Self-knowledge,  rather,  into  frowzy  pate. 
Teach  Pietro  to  get  trappings  or  go  hang  ! 
Fancy  this  quondam  oracle  in  vogue 
At  Via  Vittoria,  this  personified 
Authority  when  time  was,  —  Pantaloon 
Flaunting  his  tom-fool  tawdry  just  the  same 
As  if  Ash- Wednesday  were  mid-Carnival ! 
That 's  the  extreme  and  unforgivable 
Of  sins,  as  I  account  such.     Have  you  stooped 
For  your  own  ends  to  bestiaUze  yourself 
By  flattery  of  a  fellow  of  this  stamp  ? 
The  ends  obtained  or  else  shown  out  of  reach, 
He  goes  on,  takes  the  flattery  for  pure  truth,  — 
"  You  love,  and  honor  me,  of  course  :  what  next  ?  " 
What,  but  the  trifle  of  the  stabbing,  friend  ?  — 
Which  taught  you  how  one  worships  when  the  shrine 
Has  lost  the  relic  that  we  bent  before. 
Angry  !     And  how  could  I  be  otherwise  ? 
'T  is  plain :  this  pair  of  old  pretentious  fools 
Meant  to  fool  me  :  it  happens,  I  fooled  them. 
Why  could  not  these  who  sought  to  buy  and  sell 
Me,  —  when  they  found  themselves  were  bought  and  sold, 
Make  up  their  mind  to  the  proved  rule  of  right. 
Be  chattel  and  not  chapnaan  any  more  ? 
Miscalculation  has  its  consequence  ; 
But  when  the  shepherd  crooks  a  sheep-like  thing 
And  meaning  to  get  wool,  dislodges  fleece 


430  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOR 

And  finds  the  veritable  wolf  beneath, 
(How  that  staunch  image  serves  at  every  turn  !) 
Does  he,  by  way  of  being  politic, 
Pluck  the  first  whisker  grimly  visible  ? 
Or  rather  grow  in  a  trice  all  gratitude, 
Protest  this  sort-of-what-one-might-name  sheep 
Beats  the  old  other  curly-coated  kind, 
And  shall  share  board  and  bed,  if  so  it  deign. 
With  its  discoverer,  like  a  royal  ram  ? 
Ay,  thus,  with  chattering  teeth  and  knocking  knees, 
"Would  wisdom  treat  the  adventure  !  these,  forsooth. 
Tried  whisker-plucking,  and  so  found  what  trap 
The  whisker  kept  perdue,  two  rows  of  teeth  — 
Sharp,  as  too  late  the  prying  fingers  felt. 
What  would  you  have  ?     The  fools  transgress,  the  fools 
Forthwith  receive  appropriate  punishment : 
They  first  insult  me,  I  return  the  blow,     , 
There  follows  noise  enough :  four  hubbub  months, 
Now  hue  and  cry,  now  whimpering  and  wail  — 
A  perfect  goose-yard  cackle  of  complaint 
Because  I  do  not  gild  the  geese  their  oats,  — 
I  have  enough  of  noise,  ope  wicket  wide, 
Sweep  out  the  couple  to  go  whine  elsewhere, 
Frightened  a  little,  hurt  in  no  respect. 
And  am  just  taking  thought  to  breathe  again, 
Taste  the  sweet  sudden  silence  all  about, 
When,  there  they  raise  it,  the  old  noise  I  know, 
At  Kome  i'  the  distance  !     "  What,  begun  once  more  ? 
Whine  on,  wail  ever,  't  is  the  loser's  right !  " 
But  eh,  what  sort  of  voice  grows  on  the  wind  ? 
Triumph  it  sounds  and  no  complaint  at  all ! 
And  triumph  it  is.     My  boast  was  premature  : 
The  creatures,  I  turned  forth,  clapped  wing  and  crew 
Fighting-cock-fashion,  t—  they  had  filched  a  pearl 
From  dung-heap,  and  might  boast  with  cause  enough ! 
I  was  defrauded  of  all  bargained  for  : 
You  know,  the  Pope  knows,  not  a  soul  but  knows 
My  dowry  was  derision,  my  gain  —  muck, 
My  wife  (the  Church  declared  my  flesh  and  blood). 
The  nameless  bastard  of  a  common  whore : 
My  old  name  turned  henceforth  to  .  .  .  shall  I  say 
"  He  that  received  the  ordure  in  his  face  "  ? 
And  they  who  planned  this  wrong,  performed  this  wrong, 
And  then  revealed  this  wrong  to  the  wide  world. 
Rounded  myself  in  the  ears  with  my  own  wrong,  — 
Why,  these  were  (note  hell's  lucky  malice,  now !) 


GUIDO  431 

These  were  just  they  who,  they  alone,  could  act 
And  publish  and  proclaim  their  infamy, 
Secure  that  men  would  in  a  breath  believe 
Compassionate  and  pardon  them, — for  why? 
They  plainly  were  too  stupid  to  invent, 
Too  simple  to  distinguish  wrong  from  right,  — 
Inconscious  agents  they,  the  silly-sooth, 
Of  heaven's  retributive  justice  on  the  strong 
Proud  cunning  violent  oppressor  —  me  ! 
Follow  them  to  their  fate  and  help  your  best, 
You  Rome,  Arezzo,  foes  called  friends  of  me, 
They  gave  the  good  long  laugh  to,  at  my  cost ! 
Defray  your  share  o'  the  cost,  since  you  partook 
The  entertainment !     Do  !  —  assured  the  while, 
That  not  one  stab,  I  dealt  to  right  and  left. 
But  went  the  deeper  for  a  fancy  —  this  — 
That  each  might  do  me  twofold  service,  find 
A  friend's  face  at  the  bottom  of  each  wound. 
And  scratch  its  smirk  a  little  ! 

Panciatichi ! 
There  's  a  report  at  Florence,  —  is  it  true  ?  — 
That  when  your  relative  the  Cardinal 
Built,  only  the  other  day,  that  barrack-bulk, 
The  palace  in  Via  Larga,  some  one  picked 
From  out  the  street  a  saucy  quip  enough 
That  fell  there  from  its  day's  flight  through  the  town, 
About  the  flat  front  and  the  windows  wide 
And  bulging  heap  of  cornice,  —  hitched  the  joke 
Into  a  sonnet,  signed  his  name  thereto, 
And  forthwith  pinned  on  post  the  pleasantry  : 
For  which  he  's  at  the  galleys,  rowing  now 
Up  to  his  waist  in  water,  —  just  because 
Paneiatic  and  lymphatic  rhymed  so  pat ! 
I  hope.  Sir,  those  who  passed  this  joke  on  me 
Were  not  unduly  punished  ?     What  say  you,  , 
Prince  of  the  Church,  my  patron  ?     Nay,  indeed, 
I  shall  not  dare  insult  your  wits  so  much 
As  think  this  problem  difficult  to  solve. 
This  Pietro  and  Violante  then,  I  say. 
These  two  ambiguous  insects,  changing  name 
And  nature  with  the  season's  warmth  or  chill,  — 
Now,  grovelled,  grubbing  toiling  moiling  ants, 
A  very  synonym  of  thrift  and  peace,  — 
Anon,  with  lusty  June  to  prick  their  heart. 
Soared  i'  the  air,  winged  flies  for  more  offence, 
Circled  me,  buzzed  me  deaf  and  stung  me  blind. 


432  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And  stunk  me  dead  with  fetor  in  the  face 
Until  I  stopped  the  nuisance  :  there  's  my  crime ! 
Pity  I  did  not  suffer  them  subside 
Into  some  further  shape  and  final  form 
Of  execrable  life  ?     My  masters,  no ! 
I,  by  one  blow,  wisely  cut  short  at  once 
Them  and  their  transformations  of  disgust, 
In  the  snug  little  Villa  out  of  hand. 
"  Grant  me  confession,  give  bare  time  for  that !  "  — 
Shouted  the  sinner  tOl  his  mouth  was  stopped. 
His  life  confessed  !  —  that  was  enough  for  me, 
Who  came  to  see  that  he  did  penance.     'S  death ! 
Here  's  a  coil  raised,  a  pother  and  for  what  ? 
Because  strength,  being  provoked  by  weakness,  fought 
And  conquered,  —  the  world  never  heard  the  like  ! 
Pah,  how  I  spend  my  breath  on  them,  as  if 
'T  was  their  fate  troubled  me,  too  hard  to  range 
Among  the  right  and  fit  and  proper  things  ! 

Ay,  but  Pompilia,  —  I  await  your  word,  — 

She,  unimpeached  of  crime,  unimplicate 

In  foUy,  one  of  alien  blood  to  these 

I  punish,  why  extend  my  claim,  exact 

Her  portion  of  the  penalty  ?     Tes,  friends, 

I  go  too  fast :  the  orator 's  at  fault : 

Yes,  ere  I  lay  her,  with  your  leave,  by  them 

As  she  was  laid  at  San  Lorenzo  late, 

I  ought  to  step  back,  lead  you  by  degrees. 

Recounting  at  each  step  some  fresh  offence. 

Up  to  the  red  bed,  —  never  fear,  I  will ! 

Gaze  at  her,  where  I  place  her,  to  begin, 

Confound  me  with  her  gentleness  and  worth ! 

The  horrible  pair  have  fled  and  left  her  now, 

She  has  her  husband  for  her  sole  concern  : 

His  wife,  the  woman  fashioned  for  his  help, 

Flesh  of  his  flesh,  bone  of  his  bone,  the  bride 

To  groom  as  is  the  Church  and  Spouse  to  Christ : 

There  she  stands  in  his  presence  :  "  Thy  desire 

Shall  be  to  the  husband,  o'er  thee  shall  he  rule  !  " 

—  "  Pompilia,  who  declare  that  you  love  God, 

You  know  who  said  that :  then,  desire  my  love, 

Yield  me  contentment  and  be  ruled  aright !  " 

She  sits  up,  she  lies  down,  she  comes  and  goes, 

Kneels  at  the  couch-side,  overleans  the  sill 

O'  the  window,  cold  and  pale  and  mute  as  stone, 

Strong  as  stone  also.     "  Well,  are  they  not  fled  ? 


GUI  DO  433 

Am  I  not  left,  am  I  not  one  for  all  ? 

Speak  a  word,  drop  a  tear,  detach  a  glance, 

Bless  me  or  curse  me  of  your  own  accord  ! 

Is  it  the  ceiling  only  wants  your  soul, 

Is  worth  your  eyes  ?  "     And  then  the  eyes  descend, 

And  do  look  at  me.  Is  it  at  the  meal  ? 
"  Speak  !  "  she  obeys.    "  Be  silent ! "  she  obeys, 

Counting  the  minutes  till  I  cry  "  Depart," 

As  brood-bird  when  you  saunter  past  her  eggs. 

Departs  she  just  the  same  through  door  and  wall 

I  see  the  same  stone  strength  of  white  despair. 

And  aU  this  wiU  be  never  otherwise  ! 

Before,  the  parents'  presence  lent  her  life  : 

She  could  play  off  her  sex's  armory, 

Entreat,  reproach,  be  female  to  my  male, 

Try  aU  the  shrieking  doubles  of  the  hare, 

Go  clamor  to  the  Commissary,  bid 

The  Archbishop  hold  my  hands  and  stop  my  tongue, 

And  yield  fair  sport  so :  but  the  tactics  change, 

The  hare  stands  stock-still  to  enrage  the  hound  ! 

Since  that  day  when  she  learned  she  was  no  child 

Of  those  she  thought  her  parents,  —  that  their  trick 

Had  tricked  me  whom  she  thought  sole  trickster  late,  — • 

Why,  I  suppose  she  said  within  herself 
"  Then,  no  more  struggle  for  my  parents'  sake  ! 

And,  for  my  own  sake,  why  needs  struggle  be  ?  " 

But  is  there  no  third  party  to  the  pact  ? 

"What  of  her  husband's  relish  or  dislike 

For  this  new  game  of  giving  up  the  game. 

This  worst  offence  of  not  offending  more  ? 

I  '11  not  beUeve  but  instinct  wrought  in  this, 

Set^her  on  to  conceive  and  execute 

The  preferable  plague  :  how  sure  they  probe,  — 

These  jades,  the  sensitivest  soft  of  man  ! 

The  long  black  hair  was  wound  now  in  a  wisp. 

Crowned  sorrow  better  than  the  wild  web  late : 

No  more  soiled  dress,  't  is  trimness  triumphs  now. 

For  how  should  malice  go  with  negligence  ? 

The  frayed  silk  looked  the  fresher  for  her  spite  ! 

There  was  an  end  to  springing  out  of  bed. 

Praying  me,  with  face  buried  on  my  feet. 

Be  hindered  of  my  pastime,  —  so  an  end 

To  my  rejoinder,  "  What,  on  the  ground  at  last  ? 

Vanquished  in  fight,  a  supplicant  for  life  ? 

What  if  I  raise  you  ?     'Ware  the  casting  down 

When  next  you  fight  me .'  "     Then,  she  lay  there,  mine : 


434        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Now,  mine  she  is  if  I  please  -wring  her  neck,  — 

A  moment  of  disquiet,  working  eyes. 

Protruding  tongue,  a  long  sigh,  then  no  more, — 

As  if  one  killed  the  horse  one  could  not  ride ! 

Had  I  enjoined  "  Cut  o£E  the  hair  !  "  —  why,  snap 

The  scissors,  and  at  once  a  yard  or  so 

Had  fluttered  in  black  serpents  to  the  floor : 

But  till  I  did  enjoin  it,  how  she  combs. 

Uncurls  and  draws  out  to  the  complete  length, 

Plaits,  places  the  insulting  rope  on  head 

To  be  an  eyesore  past  dishevelment ! 

Is  all  done  ?     Then  sit  still  again  and  stare  ! 

I  advise  —  no  one  think  to  bear  that  look 

Of  steady  wrong,  endured  as  steadily 

—  Through  what  sustainraent  of  deluding  hope  ? 

Who  is  the  friend  i'  the  background  that  notes  all  ? 

"Who  may  come  presently  and  close  accounts  ? 

This  self-possession  to  the  uttermost, 

How  does  it  differ  in  aught,  save  degree, 

From  the  terrible  patience  of  God  ? 

"  All  which  just  means, 
She  did  not  love  you  !  "     Again  the  word  is  launched 
And  the  fact  fronts  me  !     What,  you  try  the  wards 
With  the  true  key  and  the  dead  lock  flies  ope  ? 
No,  it  sticks  fast  and  leaves  you  fumbling  still ! 
You  have  some  fifty  servants.  Cardinal,  — • 
Which  of  them  loves  you  ?     Which  subordinate 
But  makes  parade  of  such  officiousness 
That  —  if  there  's  no  love  prompts  it  —  love,  the  sham, 
Does  twice  the  service  done  by  love,  the  true. 
God  bless  us  liars,  where  's  one  touch  of  truth 
In  what  *e  tell  the  world,  or  world  tells  us, 
Of  how  we  love  each  other  ?     All  the  same. 
We  calculate  on  word  and  deed,  nor  err, — 
Bid  such  a  man  do  such  a  loving  act, 
Sure  of  effect  and  negligent  of  cause, 
Just  as  we  bid  a  horse,  with  cluck  of  tongue. 
Stretch  his  legs  arch-vsdse,  crouch  his  saddled  back 
To  foot-reach  of  the  stirrup  —  all  for  love. 
And  some  for  memory  of  the  smart  of  switch 
On  the  inside  of  the  foreleg  —  what  care  we  ? 
Yet  where  's  the  bond  obliges  horse  to  man 
Like  that  which  binds  fast  wife  to  husband  ?     God 
Laid  down  the  law  :  gave  man  the  brawny  arm 
And  ball  of  fist  —  woman  the  beardless  cheek 
And  proper  place  to  suffer  in  the  side : 


GUIDO  435 

Since  it  is  he  can  strike,  let  her  obey  ! 

Can  she  feel  no  love  ?     Let  her  show  the  more, 

Sham  the  worse,  damn  herself  praiseworthily ! 

"Who  's  that  soprano,  Rome  went  mad  about 

Last  week  while  I  lay  rotting  in  my  straw  ? 

The  very  jailer  gossiped  in  his  praise  — 

How,  —  dressed  up  like  Armida,  though  a  man  ; 

And  painted  to  look  pretty,  though  a  fright,  — 

He  still  made  loye  so  that  the  ladies  swooned, 

Being  an  eunuch.     "  Ah,  Rinaldo  mine  ! 

But  to  breathe  by  thee  while  Jove  slays  us  both !  " 

All  the  poor  bloodless  creature  never  felt, 

Si,  do,  re,  mi,  fa,  squeak  and  squall  —  for  what  ? 

Two  gold  zecchines  the  evening.     Here  's  my  slave, 

Whose  body  and  soul  depend  upon  my  nod. 

Can't  falter  out  the  first  note  in  the  scale 

For  her  life  !     "Why  blame  me  if  I  take  the  life  ? 

AJl  women  cannot  give  men  love,  forsooth  ! 

No,  nor  all  puUets  lay  the  henwif e  eggs  — 

Whereat  she  bids  them  remedy  the  fault, 

Brood  on  a  chalk-ball :  soon  the  nest  is  stocked  — 

Otherwise,  to  the  plucking  and  the  spit ! 

This  wife  of  mine  was  of  another  mood  — 

Would  not  begin  the  lie  that  ends  with  truth, 

Nor  feign  the  love  that  brings  real  love  about : 

"Wherefore  I  judged,  sentenced,  and  punished  her. 

But  why  particularize,  defend  the  deed  ? 

Say  that  I  hated  her  for  no  one  cause 

Beyond  my  pleasure  so  to  do,  —  what  then  ? 

Just  on  as  much  incitement  acts  the  world. 

All  of  you  !     Look  and  hke  !     You  favor  one. 

Browbeat  another,  leave  alone  a  third,  — 

"Why  should  you  master  natural  caprice  ? 

Pure  nature  !     Try  :  plant  elm  by  ash  in  file ; 

Both  unexceptionable  trees  enough. 

They  ought  to  overlean  each  other,  pair 

At  top,  and  arch  across  the  avenue 

The  whole  path  to  the  pleasaunce  :  do  they  so  — 

Or  loathe,  lie  off  abhorrent  each  from  each  ? 

Lay  the  fault  elsewhere  :  since  we  must  have  faults, 

Mine  shall  have  been  —  seeing  there 's  ill  in  the  end 

Come  of  my  course  —  that  I  fare  somehow  worse 

For  the  way  I  took  :   my   fault   ...  as  God 's  my  judge, 

I  see  not  where  my  fault  lies,  that 's  the  truth ! 

I  ought  .  .  .  oh,  ought  in  my  own  interest 

Have  let  the  whole  adventure  go  untried, 


436  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

This  chance  by  marriage,  —  or  else,  trymg  it, 
Ought  to  have  turned  it  to  account,  some  one 
O'  the  hundred  otherwises  ?     Ay,  my  friend, 
Easy  to  say,  easy  to  do  :  step  right 
Now  you  've  stepped  left  and  stumbled  on  the  thing, 
—  The  red  thing !     Doubt  I  any  more  than  you 
That  practice  makes  man  perfect  ?     Give  again 
The  chance,  —  same  marriage  and  no  other  wife. 
Be  sure  I  'U  edify  you  !     That 's  because 
I  'm  practised,  grown  fit  guide  for  Guido's  self. 
You  proffered  guidance,  —  I  know,  none  so  well,  — 
You  laid  down  law  and  roUed  decorum  out. 
From  pulpit-corner  on  the  gospel-side,  — 
Wanted  to  make  your  great  experience  mine. 
Save  me  the  personal  search  and  pains  so  :  thanks  ! 
Take  your  word  on  life's  use  ?     When  I  take  his  — 
The  muzzled  ox  that  treadeth  out  the  corn, 
Gone  blind  in  padding  round  and  round  one  path,  — 
As  to  the  taste  of  green  grass  in  the  field  ! 
What  do  you  know  o'  the  world  that 's  trodden  flat 
.  And  salted  sterile  with  your  daily  dung, 
Leavened  into  a  lump  of  loathsomeness  ? 
Take  your  opinion  of  the  modes  of  life. 
The  aims  of  life,  life's  triumph  or  defeat, 
How  to  feel,  how  to  scheme,  and  how  to  do 
Or  else  leave  undone  ?     You  preached  long  and  loud 
On  high-days,  "  Take  our  doctrine  upon  trust ! 
Into  the  mill-house  with  you !     Grind  our  corn. 
Relish  our  chafE,  and  let  the  green  grass  grow !  " 
I  tried  chaff,  found  I  famished  on  such  fare, 
So  made  this  mad  rush  at  the  mill-house-door. 
Buried  my  head  up  to  the  ears  in  dew, 
Browsed  on  the  best :  for  which  you  brain  me.  Sirs ! 
Be  it  so.     I  conceived  of  life  that  way. 
And  still  declare  —  Uf e,  without  absolute  use 
Of  the  actual  sweet  therein,  is  death,  not  life. 
Give  me,  —  pay  down,  —  not  promise,  which  is  air,  — 
Something  that 's  out  of  life  and  better  still, 
Make  sure  reward,  make  certain  punishment. 
Entice  me,  scare  me,  —  I  '11  forego  this  life  ; 
Otherwise,  no  !  — the  less  that  words,  mere  wind. 
Would  cheat  me  of  some  minutes  while  they  plague, 
Balk  fulness  of  revenge  here,  —  blame  yourselves 
For  this  eruption  of  the  pent-up  soul 
You  prisoned  first  and  played  with  afterward  ! 
"  Deny  myself  "  meant  simply  pleasure  you. 


GUIDO  437 

The  sacred  and  superior,  save  the  mark ! 

You,  —  whose  stupidity  and  insolence 

I  must  defer  to,  soothe  at  every  turn,  — 

Whose  sv?ine-like  snuffling  greed  and  grunting  lust 

I  had  to  wink  at  or  help  gratify,  — 

While  the  same  passions,  —  dared  they  perk  in  me, 

Me,  the  immeasurably  marked,  by  God, 

Master  of  the  whole  world  of  such  as  you,  — 

I,  boast  such  passions  ?     'T  was,  "  Suppress  them  straight ! 

Or  stay,  we  'U  pick  and  choose  before  destroy. 

Here  's  wrath  in  you,  a  serviceable  sword,  — 

Beat  it  into  a  ploughshare !     What 's  this  long 

Lance-like  ambition  ?     Forge  a  pruning-hook, 

May  be  of  service  when  our  vines  grow  tall ! 

But  —  sword  used  swordwise,  spear  thrust  out  as  spear  ? 

Anathema  !     Suppression  is  the  word !  " 

My  nature,  when  the  outrage  was  too  gross. 

Widened  itself  an  outlet  over-wide 

By  way  of  answer,  sought  its  own  relief 

With  more  of  fire  and  brimstone  than  you  wished. 

AU  your  own  doing  :  preachers,  blame  yourselves  ! 

'Tis  I  preach  while  the  hour-glass  runs  and  runs ! 
God  keep  me  patient !     All  I  say  just  means  — 
My  wife  proved,  whether  by  her  fault  or  mine,  — 
That 's  immaterial,  —  a  true  stumbling-block 
I'  the  way  of  me  her  husband.     I  but  plied 
The  hatchet  yourselves  use  to  clear  a  path. 
Was  politic,  played  the  game  you  warrant  wins. 
Plucked  at  law's  robe  a-rustle  through  the  courts, 
Bowed  down  to  kiss  divinity's  buckled  shoe 
Cushioned  i'  the  church :  efforts  all  wide  the  aim  ! 
Procedures  to  no  purpose !     Then  flashed  truth. 
The  letter  kills,  the  spirit  keeps  alive 
In  law  and  gospel :  there  be  nods  and  winks 
Instruct  a  wise  man  to  assist  himself 
In  certain  matters,  nor  seek  aid  at  all. 
"  Ask  monev  of  me,"  —  quoth  the  clownish  saw,  — 
«  And  take  my  purse !     But,  —  speaking  with  respect,  — 
Need  you  a  solace  for  the  troubled  nose  ? 
Let  everybody  wipe  his  own  himself!  " 
Sirs,  tell  me  free  and  fair !     Had  things  gone  well 
At  the  wayside  inn  :  had  I  surprised  asleep 
The  runaways,  as  was  so  probable, 
And  pinned  them  each  to  other  partridge-wise. 
Through  back  and  breast  to  breast  and  back,  then  bade 


438  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Bystanders  witness  if  the  spit,  my  sword, 
Were  loaded  with  unlawful  game  for  once  — 
Would  you  have  interposed  to  damp  the  glow 
Applauding  me  on  every  husband's  cheek  ? 
Would  you  have  checked  the  cry,  "  A  judgment,  see ! 
A  warning,  note !     Be  henceforth  chaste,  ye  wives, 
Nor  stray  beyond  your  proper  precinct,  priests  !  " 
If  you  had,  then  your  house  against  itself 
Divides,  nor  stands  your  kingdom  any  more. 
Oh  why,  why  was  it  not  <M:dained  just  so  ? 
Why  fell  not  things  out  so  nor  otherwise  ? 
Ask  that  particular  devil  whose  task  it  is 
To  trip  the  all-but-at  perfection,  —  slur 
The  line  o'  the  painter  just  where  paint  leaves  off 
And  life  begins,  —  put  ice  into  the  ode 
O'  the  poet  while  he  cries  "  Next  stanza  —  fire !  " 
Inscribe  all  human  effort  with  one  word, 
Artistry's  haunting  curse,  the  Incomplete ! 
Being  incomplete,  my  act  escaped  success. 
Easy  to  blame  now  !     Every  fool  can  swear 
To  hole  in  net  that  held  and  slipped  the  fish. 
But,  treat  my  act  with  fair  unjaundiced  eye, 
What  was  there  wanting  to  a  masterpiece 
Except  the  luck  that  lies  beyond  a  man  ? 
My  way  with  the  woman,  now  proved  grossly  wrong, 
Just  missed  of  being  gravely  grandly  right 
And  making  mouths  laugh  on  the  other  side. 
Do,  for  the  poor  obstructed  artist's  sake. 
Go  with  him  over  that  spoiled  work  once  more  ! 
Take  only  its  first  flower,  the  ended  act 
Now  in  the  dusty  pod,  dry  and  defunct ! 
I  march  to  the  Villa,  and  my  men  with  me. 
That  evening,  and  we  reach  the  door  and  stand. 
I  say  .  .  .  no,  it  shoots  through  me  lightning-like 
While  I  pause,  breathe,  my  hand  upon  the  latch, 
"  Let  me  forebode  !     Thus  far,  too  much  success : 
I  want  the  natural  failure  —  find  it  where  ? 
Which  thread  will  have  to  break  and  leave  a  loop 
I'  the  meshy  combination,  my  brain's  loom 
Wove  this  long  while,  and  now  next  minute  tests  ? 
Of  three  that  are  to  catch,  two  should  go  free, 
One  must :  all  three  surprised,  —  impossible  ! 
Beside,  I  seek  three  and  may  chance  on  six,  — 
This  neighbor,  t'  other  gossip,  —  the  babe's  birth 
Brings  such  to  fireside,  and  folks  give  them  wine,  -» 
'T  is  late  :  but  when  I  break  in  presently 


GUI  DO  439 

One  will  be  found  outlingering  the  rest 

For  promise  of  a  posset,  —  one  whose  shout 

Would  raise  the  dead  down  in  the  catacombs, 

Much  more  the  city-watch  that  goes  its  round. 

When  did  I  ever  turn  adroitly  up 

To  sun  some  brick  imbedded  in  the  soil, 

And  with  one  blow  crush  all  three  scorpions  there  ? 

Or  Pietro  or  Violante  shambles  off  — 

It  cannot  be  but  I  surprise  my  wife  — 

If  only  she  is  stopped  and  stamped  on,  good  ! 

That  shall  suffice  :  more  is  improbable. 

Now  I  may  knock !  "     And  this  once  for  my  sake 

The  impossible  was  effected  :  I  called  king, 

Queen  and  knave  in  a  sequence,  and  cards  came, 

All  three,  three  only !     So,  I  had  my  way. 

Did  my  deed  :  so,  unbrokenly  lay  bare 

Each  taenia  that  had  sucked  me  dry  of  juice, 

At  last  outside  me,  not  an  inch  of  ring 

Left  now  to  writhe  about  and  root  itself 

I'  the  heart  all  powerless  for  revenge !     Henceforth 

I  might  thrive  :  these  were  drawn  and  dead  and  damned. 

Oh  Cardinal,  the  deep  long  sigh  you  heave 

When  the  load  's  off  you,  ringing  as  it  runs 

All  the  way  down  the  serpent-stair  to  hell ! 

No  doubt  the  fine  delirium  flustered  me, 

Turned  my  brain  with  the  influx  of  success 

As  if  the  sole  need  now  were  to  wave  wand 

And  find  doors  fly  wide,  —  wish  and  have  my  will,  — 

The  rest  o'  the  scheme  would  care  for  itself :  escape  ? 

Easy  enough  were  that,  and  poor  beside  ! 

It  all  but  proved  so,  —  ought  to  quite  have  proved. 

Since,  half  the  chances  had  sufficed,  set  free 

Any  one,  with  his  senses  at  command. 

From  thrice  the  danger  of  my  flight.     But,  drunk, 

Redundantly  triumphant,  —  some  reverse 

Was  sure  to  follow  !     There  's  no  other  way 

Accounts  for  such  prompt  perfect  failure  then 

And  there  on  the  instant.     Any  day  o'  the  week, 

A  ducat  slid  discreetly  into  palm 

O'  the  mute  postmaster,  while  you  whisper  him  — 

How  you  the  Count  and  certain  four  your  knaves, 

Have  just  been  mauling  who  was  malapert. 

Suspect  the  kindred  may  prove  troublesome, 

Therefore,  want  horses  in  a  hurry,  —  tha,t 

And  nothing  more  secures  you  any  day 

The  pick  o'  the  stable  !     Yet  I  try  the  trick. 


440  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Double  the  bribe,  call  myself  Duke  for  Count, 
And  say  the  dead  man  only  was  a  Jew, 
And  for  my  pains  find  I  am  dealing  just 
With  the  one  scrupulous  fellow  in  all  Borne  — 
Just  this  immaculate  official  stares. 
Sees  I  want  hat  on  head  and  sword  in  sheath, 
Am  splashed  with  other  sort  of  wet  than  wine, 
Shrugs  shoulder,  puts  my  hand  by,  gold  and  all, 
Stands  on  the  strictness  of  the  rule  o'  the  road  ! 

"  Where 's  the  Permission  ?  "     Where 's  the  wretched  rag 
With  the  due  seal  and  sign  of  Rome's  Police, 
To  be  had  for  asking,  half-an-hour  ago  ? 

•'  Gone  ?     Get  another,  or  no  horses  hence  !  " 
He  dares  not  stop  me,  we  five  glare  too  grim. 
But  hinders,  —  hacks  and  hamstrings  sure  enough, 
Gives  me  some  twenty  miles  of  miry  road 
More  to  march  in  the  middle  of  that  night 
Whereof  the  rough  beginning  taxed  the  strength 
O'  the  youngsters,  much  more  mine,  both  soul  and  flesh, 
Who  had  to  think  as  well  as  act :  dead-beat. 
We  gave  in  ere  we  reached  the  boundary 
And  safe  spot  out  of  this  irrational  Rome,  — 
Where,  on  dismounting  from  our  steeds  next  day. 
We  had  snapped  our  fingers  at  you,  safe  and  sound, 
Tuscans  once  more  in  blessed  Tuscany, 
Where  laws  make  wise  allowance,  understand 
Civilized  life  and  do  its  champions  right ! 
Witness  the  sentence  of  the  Rota  there, 
Arezzo  uttered,  the  Granduke  confirmed. 
One  week  before  I  acted  on  its  hint,  — 
Giving  friend  Guillichini,  for  his  love. 
The  galleys,  and  my  wife  your  saint,  Rome's  saint,  — 
Rome  manufactures  saints  enough  to  know,  — 
Seclusion  at  the  Stinche  for  her  life. 
AH  this,  that  all  but  was,  might  all  have  been. 
Yet  was  not !  balked  by  just  a  scrupulous  knave 
Whose  palm  was  horn  through  handling  horses'  hoofs 
And  could  not  close  upon  my  proffered  gold  ! 
What  say  you  to  the  spite  of  fortune  ?     WeU, 
The  worst 's  in  store  :  thus  hindered,  haled  this  way 
To  Rome  again  by  hangdogs,  whom  find  I 
Here,  still  to  fight  with,  but  my  pale  frail  wife  ? 
—  Riddled  with  wounds  by  one  not  like  to  waste 
The  blows  he  dealt,  —  knowing  anatomy,  — 
(I  think  I  told  you)  bound  to  pick  and  choose 
The  vital  parts  !     'T  was  learning  all  in  vain ! 


GUIDO  411 

She  too  must  shimmer  through  the  gloom  o'  the  grave, 

Come  and  confront  me  —  not  at  judgment-seat 

Where  I  could  twist  her  soul,  as  erst  her  flesh. 

And  turn  her  truth  into  a  lie,  —  but  there, 

O'  the  death-bed,  with  God's  hand  between  us  both, 

Striking  me  dumb,  and  helping  her  to  speak, 

Tell  her  own  story  her  own  way,  and  turn 

My  plausibility  to  nothingness  ! 

Four  whole  daj  s  did  Pompilia  keep  alive, 

With  the  best  surgery  of  Rome  agape 

At  the  miracle,  —  this  cut,  the  other  slash, 

And  yet  the  life  refusing  to  dislodge. 

Four  whole  extravagant  impossible  days. 

Till  she  had  time  to  finish  and  persuade 

Every  man,  every  woman,  every  child 

In  Gome,  of  what  she  would :  the  selfsame  she 

Who,  but  a  year  ago,  had  wrung  her  hands. 

Reddened  her  eyes  and  beat  her  breasts,  rehearsed 

The  whole  game  at  Arezzo,  nor  availed 

Thereby  to  move  one  heart  or  raise  one  hand ! 

When  destiny  intends  you  cards  like  these. 

What  good  of  skiU  and  preconcerted  play  ? 

Had  she  been  found  dead,  as  I  left  her  dead, 

I  should  have  told  a  tale  brooked  no  reply  : 

You  scarcely  will  suppose  me  found  at  fault 

With  that  advantage  !     "  What  brings  me  to  Rome  ? 

Necessity  to  claim  and  take  my  wife  : 

Better,  to  claim  and  take  my  new-born  babe,  — 

Strong  in  paternity  a  fortnight  old. 

When  't  is  at  strongest :   warily  I  work, 

Knowing  the  machinations  of  my  foe  ; 

I  have  companionship  and  use  the  night : 

I  seek  my  wife  and  child,  —  I  find  —  no  child 

But  wife,  in  the  embraces  of  that  priest 

Who  caused  her  to  elope  from  me.     These  two, 

Backed  by  the  pander-pair  who  watch  the  while, 

Spring  on  me  like  so  many  tiger-cats. 

Glad  of  the  chance  to  end  the  intruder.     I  — 

What  should  I  do  but  stand  on  my  defence, 

Strike  right,  strike  left,  strike  thick  and  threefold,  slay, 

Not  all  —  because  the  coward  priest  escapes. 

Last,  I  escape,  in  fear  of  evil  tongues, 

And  having  had  my  taste  of  Roman  law." 

What 's  disputable,  refutable  here  ?  — 

Save  by  just  this  one  ghost-thing  half  on  earth. 

Half  out  of  it,  —  as  if  she  held  God's  hand 


442  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

While  she  leant  back  and  looked  her  last  at  me, 

Forgiving  me  (here  monks  begin  to'weep) 

Oh,  from  her  very  soul,  commending  mine 

To  heavenly  mercies  which  are  infinite,  — 

"While  fixing  fast  my  head  beneath  your  knife  ! 

'T  is  fate  not  fortune.      All  is  of  a  piece  ! 

When  was  it  chance  informed  me  of  my  youths  ? 

My  rustic  four  o'  the  family,  soft  swains. 

What  sweet  surprise  had  they  in  store  for  me. 

Those  of  my  very  household,  —  what  did  Law 

Twist  with  her  rack-and-cord-contrivance  late 

From  out  their  bones  and  marrow  ?     What  but  this  - 

Had  no  one  of  these  several  stumbling-blocks 

Stopped  me,  they  yet  were  cherishing  a  scheme, 

All  of  their  honest  country  homespun  wit, 

To  quietly  next  day  at  crow  of  cock 

Cut  my  own  throat  too,  for  their  own  behoof, 

Seeing  I  had  forgot  to  clear  accounts 

O'  the  instant,  nowise  slackened  speed  for  that,  — 

And  somehow  never  might  find  memory, 

Once  safe  back  in  Arezzo,  where  things  change, 

And  a  court-lord  needs  mind  no  country  lout. 

Well,  being  the  arch-offender,  I  die  last,  — 

May,  ere  my  head  falls,  have  my  eyesight  free, 

Nor  miss  them  dangling  high  on  either  hand. 

Like  scarecrows  in  a  hemp-field,  for  their  pains ! 

And  then  my  Trial,  —  't  is  my  Trial  that  bites 
Like  a  corrosive,  so  the  cards  are  packed, 
Dice  loaded,  and  my  life-stake  tricked  away ! 
Look  at  my  lawyers,  lacked  they  grace  of  law, 
Latin  or  logic  ?     Were  not  they  fools  to  the  heighti 
Fools  to  the  depth,  fools  to  the  level  between, 
O'  the  foolishness  set  to  decide  the  case  ? 
They  feign,  they  flatter ;  nowise  does  it  skill. 
Everything  goes  against  me  :  deal  each  judge 
His  dole  of  flattery  and  feigning,  —  why. 
He  turns  and  tries  and  snuffs  and  savors  it, 
As  some  old  fly  the  sugar-grain,  your  gift ; 
Then  eyes  your  thumb  and  finger,  brushes  clean 
The  absurd  old  head  of  him,  and  whisks  away. 
Leaving  your  thumb  and  finger  dirty.     Faugh  ! 

And  finally,  after  this  long-drawn  range 

Of  affront  and  failure,  failure  and  affront,  — 

This  path,  'twixt  crosses  leading  to  a  skull. 


GUIDO  443 

Paced  by  me  barefoot,  bloodied  by  my  palms 

From  the  entry  to  the  end,  —  there  's  light  at  length, 

A  cranny  of  escape  :  appeal  may  be 

To  the  old  man,  to  the  father,  to  the  Pope, 

For  a  little  life  —  from  one  whose  life  is  spent, 

A  little  pity  —  from  pity's  source  and  seat, 

A  little  indulgence  to  rank,  privilege. 

From  one  who  is  the  thing  personified. 

Rank,  privilege,  indulgence,  grown  beyond 

Earth's  bearing,  even,  ask  jansenius  else ! 

Still  the  same  answer,  still  no  other  tune 

From  the  cicala  perched  at  the  tree-top 

Than  crickets  noisy  round  the  root,  —  't  is  "  Die  !  " 

Bids  Law —  "Be  damned  !  "  adds  Gospel,  — nay, 

No  word  so  frank,  —  't  is  rather,  "  Save  yourself  !  " 

The  Pope  subjoins  —  "  Confess  and  be  absolved  ! 

So  shall  my  credit  countervail  your  shame. 

And  the  world  see  I  have  not  lost  the  knack 

Of  trying  all  the  spirits  :  yours,  my  son, 

Wants  but  a  fiery  washing  to  emerge 

In  clarity  !     Come,  cleanse  you,  ease  the  ache 

Of  these  old  bones,  refresh  our  bowels,  boy  !  " 

Do  I  mistake  your  mission  from  the  Pope  ? 

Then,  bear  his  Holiness  the  mind  of  me  ! 

I  do  get  strength  from  being  thrust  to  wall. 

Successively  wrenched  from  pillar  and  from  post 

By  this  tenacious  hate  of  fortune,  hate 

Of  all  things  in,  under,  and  above  earth. 

Warfare,  begun  this  mean  unmanly  mode. 

Does  best  to  end  so,  —  gives  earth  spectacle 

Of  a  brave  fighter  who  succumbs  to  odds 

That  turn  defeat  to  victory.     Stab,  I  fold 

My  mantle  round  me  !     Rome  approves  my  act : 

Applauds  the  blow  which  costs  me  life  but  keeps 

My  honor  spotless  :  Rome  would  praise  no  more 

Had  I  fallen,  say,  some  fifteen  years  ago. 

Helping  Vienna  when  our  Aretines 

Flocked  to  Duke  Charles  and  fought  Turk  Mustafa; 

Nor  would  you  two  be  trembling  o'er  my  corpse 

With  all  this  exquisite  solicitude. 

Why  is  it  that  I  make  such  suit  to  live  ? 

The  popular  sympathy  that 's  round  me  now 

Would  break  like  bubble  that  o'er-domes  a  fly  — 

Solid  enough  while  he  lies  quiet  there. 

But  let  him  want  the  air  and  ply  the  wing, 

Why,  it  breaks  and  bespatters  him,  what  else  ? 


at  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Cardinal,  if  the  Pope  had  pardoned  me, 

And  I  walked  out  of  prison  through  the  crowd, 

It  would  not  he  your  arm  I  should  dare  press  ! 

Then,  if  I  got  safe  to  my  place  again, 

How  sad  and  sapless  were  the  years  to  come  ! 

I  go  my  old  ways  and  find  things  grown  gray ; 

You  priests  leer  at  me,  old  friends  look  askance  ; 

The  mob  's  in  love,  I  '11  wager,  to  a  man, 

With  my  poor  young  good  beauteous  murdered  wife  : 

For  hearts  require  instruction  how  to  beat, 

And  eyes,  on  warrant  of  the  story,  wax 

Wanton  at  portraiture  in  white  and  black 

Of  dead  PompiHa  gracing  ballad-sheet. 

Which  eyes,  lived  she  unmurdered  and  unsung. 

Would  never  turn  though  she  paced  street  as  bare 

As  the  mad  penitent  ladies  do  in  France. 

My  brothers  quietly  would  edge  me  out 

Of  use  and  management  of  things  called  mine  ; 

Do  I  command  ?     "  You  stretched  command  before !  " 

Show  anger  ?     "  Anger  little  helped  you  once  !  " 

Advise  ?     "  How  managed  you  affairs  of  old  ?  " 

My  very  mother,  all  the  while  they  gird. 

Turns  eye  up,  gives  confirmatory  groan ; 

For  unsuccess,  explain  it  how  you  will, 

Disqualifies  you,  makes  you  doubt  yourself, 

—  Much  more,  is  found  decisive  by  your  fi'iends. 

Beside,  am  I  not  fifty  years  of  age  ? 

What  new  leap  would  a  life  take,  checked  like  mine 

I'  the  spring  at  outset  ?     Where  's  my  second  chance  ? 

Ay,  but  the  babe  ...  I  had  forgot  my  son. 

My  heir  !     Now  for  a  burst  of  gratitude ! 

There  's  some  appropriate  service  to  intone. 

Some  gaicdeamus  and  thanksgiving-psalm ! 

Old,  I  renew  my  youth  in  him,  and  poor 

Possess  a  treasure,  —  is  not  that  the  phrase  ? 

Only  I  must  wait  patient  twenty  years  — 

Nourishing  all  the  while,  as  father  ought. 

The  excrescence  with  my  daily  blood  of  life. 

Does  it  respond  to  hope,  such  sacrifice,  —  " 

Grows  the  wen  plump  while  I  myself  grow  lean  ? 

Why,  here 's  my  son  and  heir  in  evidence. 

Who  stronger,  wiser,  handsomer  than  I 

By  fifty  years,  relieves  me  of  each  load,  — 

Tames  my  hot  horse,  carries  my  heavy  gun. 

Courts  my  coy  mistress,  —  has  his  apt  advice 

On  house-economy,  expenditure, 


GUI  DO  445 

And  what  not  ?     All  which  good  gifts  and  great  growth, 

Because  of  my  decline,  he  brings  to  bear 

On  Guide,  but  half  apprehensive  how 

He  cumbers  earth,  crosses  the  brisk  young  Count, 

Who  civilly  would  thrust  him  from  the  scene. 

Contrariwise,  does  the  blood-ofBering  fail  ? 

There  's  an  ineptitude,  one  blank  the  more 

Added  to  earth  in  semblance  of  my  child  ? 

Then,  this  has  been  a  costly  piece  of  work, 

My  life  exchanged  for  his  !  —  why  he,  not  I, 

Enjoy  the  world,  if  no  more  grace  accrue  ? 

Dwarf  me,  what  giant  have  you  made  of  him  ? 

I  do  not  dread  the  disobedient  son  — 

I  know  how  to  suppress  rebellion  there, 

Being  not  quite  the  fool  my  father  was. 

But  grant  the  medium  measure  of  a  man. 

The  usual  compromise  'twixt  fool  and  sage, 

—  You  know — the  tolerably-obstinate, 

The  not-so-much-perverse  but  you  may  train, 

The  true  son-servant  that,  when  parent  bids 
"  Go  work,  son,  in  my  vineyard !  "  makes  reply 
"  I  go.  Sir  !  "  —  Why,  what  profit  in  your  son 

Beyond  the  drudges  you  might  subsidize, 

Have  the  same  work  from,  at  a  paul  the  head  ? 

Look  at  those  four  young  precious  olive-plants 

Beared  at  Vittiano,  —  not  on  flesh  and  blood, 

These  twenty  years,  but  black  bread  and  sour  wine  ! 

I  bade  them  put  forth  tender  branch,  hook,  hold, 

And  hurt  three  enemies  I  had  in  Borne  : 

They  did  my  hest  as  unreluctantly. 

At  promise  of  a  doUar,  as  a  son 

Adjured  by  mumping  memories  of  the  past. 

No,  nothing  repays  youth  expended  so  — 

Youth,  I  say,  who  am  young  stiU :  grant  but  leave 

To  live  my  life  out,  to  the  last  I  'd  live 

And  die  conceding  age  no  right  of  youth ! 

It  is  the  will  runs  the  renewing  nerve 

Through  flaccid  flesh  that  faints  before  the  time. 

Therefore  no  sort  of  use  for  son  have  I  — 

Sick,  not  of  life's  feast  but  of  steps  to  climb 

To  the  house  where  life  prepares  her  feast,  —  of  means 

To  the  end :  for  make  the  end  attainable 

Without  the  means,  —  my  relish  were  like  yours. 

A  man  may  have  an  appetite  enough 

For  a  whole  dish  of  robins  ready  cooked. 

And  yet  lack  courage  to  face  sleet,  pad  snow, 

And  snare  sufficiently  for  supper. 


446  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Thus 
The  time  's  arrived  when,  ancient  Roman-like, 
I  am  bound  to  fall  on  my  own  sword,  —  why  not 
Say  —  Tuscan-like,  more  ancient,  better  stiU  ? 
Will  you  hear  truth  can  do  no  harm  nor  good  ? 
I  think  I  never  was  at  any  time 
A  Christian,  as  you  nickname  all  the  world, 
Me  among  others :  truce  to  nonsense  now ! 
Name  me,  a  primitive  religionist  — 
As  should  the  aboriginary  be 
I  boast  myself,  Etruscan,  Aretine, 
One  sprung  —  your  frigid  Virgil's  fieriest  word  — 
From  fauns  and  nymphs,  trunks  and  the  heart  of  oak, 
With  —  for  a  visible  divinity  — 
The  portent  of  a  Jove  ^giochus 
Descried  'mid  clouds,  lightning  and  thunder,  couched 
On  topmost  crag  of  your  Capitoline : 
'T  is  in  the  Seventh  iEneid,  —  what,  the  Eighth  ? 
Right,  —  thanks,  Abate,  —  though  the  Christian 's  dumb. 
The  Latinist  's  vivacious  in  you  yet ! 
I  know  my  grandsire  had  our  tapestry 
Marked  with  the  motto,  'neath  a  certain  shield, 
Whereto  his  grandson  presently  will  give  gules 
To  vary  azure.     First  we  fight  for  faiths. 
But  get  to  shake  hands  at  the  last  of  all : 
Mine 's  your  faith  too,  —  in  Jove  ^giochus  ! 
Nor  do  Greek  gods,  that  serve  as  supplement. 
Jar  with  the  simpler  scheme,  if  understood. 
We  want  such  intermediary  race 
To  make  communication  possible  ; 
The  real  thing  were  too  lofty,  we  too  low, 
Midway  hang  these  :  we  feel  their  use  so  plain 
In  linking  height  to  depth,  that  we  doff  hat 
And  put  no  question  nor  pry  narrowly 
Into  the  nature  hid  behind  the  names. 
We  grudge  no  rite  the  fancy  may  demand  ; 
But  never,  more  than  needs,  invent,  refine, 
Improve  upon  requirement,  idly  wise 
Beyond  the  letter,  teaching  gods  their  trade. 
Which  is  to  teach  us  :  we  '11  obey  when  taught. 
Why  should  we  do  our  duty  past  the  need  ? 
When  the  sky  darkens,  Jove  is  wroth,  —  say  prayer ! 
When  the  sun  shines  and  Jove  is  glad,  —  sing  psalm! 
But  wherefore  pass  prescription  and  devise 
Blood-offering  for  sweat-service,  lend  the  rod 
A  pungency  through  pickle  of  our  own  ? 


GUIDO  447 

Learned  Abate,  —  no  one  teaches  you 
What  Venus  means  and  who  's  Apollo  here ! 
I  spare  you,  Cardinal,  —  but,  though  you  wince, 
You  know  me,  I  know  you,  and  both  know  that ! 
So,  if  Apollo  bids  us  fast,  we  fast : 
But  where  does  Venus  order  we  stop  sense 
When  Master  Pietro  rhymes  a  pleasantry  ? 
Give  alms  prescribed  on  Friday,  —  but,  hold  hand 
Because  your  foe  lies  prostrate,  —  where  's  the  word 
Explicit  in  the  book  debars  revenge  ? 
The  rationale  of  your  scheme  is  just 
"  Pay  toll  here,  there  pursue  your  pleasure  free  !  " 
So  do  you  turn  to  use  the  medium-powers, 
Mars  and  Minerva,  Bacchus  and  the  rest, 
And  so  are  saved  propitiating  —  whom  ? 
What  all-good,  all-wise,  and  all-potent  Jove 
Vexed  by  the  very  sins  in  man,  himself 
Made  life's  necessity  when  man  he  made  ? 
Irrational  biinglers !     So,  the  living  truth 
Eevealed  to  strike  Pan  dead,  ducks  low  at  last, 
Prays  leave  to  hold  its  own  and  live  good  days 
Provided  it  go  masque  grotesquely,  called 
Christian  not  Pagan.     Oh,  you  purged  the  sky 
Of  aU  gods  save  the  One,  the  great  and  good, 
Clapped  hands  and  triumphed !    But  the  change  came  fast : 
The  inexorable  need  in  man  for  life  — 
(Life,  you  may  mulct  and  minish  to  a  grain 
Out  of  the  lump,  so  that  the  grain  but  live) 
Laughed  at  your  substituting  death  for  life. 
And  bade  you  do  your  worst :  which  worst  was  done 
In  just  that  age  styled  primitive  and  pure 
When  Saint  this.  Saint  that,  dutifully  starved. 
Froze,  fought  with  beasts,  was  beaten  and  abused 
And  finally  ridded  of  his  flesh  by  fire  : 
He  kept  liJEe-long  unspotted  from  the  world !  — 
Next  age,  how  goes  the  game,  what  mortal  gives 
His  life  and  emulates  Saint  that,  Saint  this  ? 
Men  mutter,  make  excuse,  or  mutiny, 
In  fine  are  minded  all  to  leave  the  new, 
Stick  to  the  old,  —  enjoy  old  liberty. 
No  prejudice  in  enjoyment,  if  you  please, 
To  the  new  profession :  sin  o'  the  sly,  henceforth ! 
The  law  stands  though  the  letter  kills :  what  then  ? 
The  spirit  saves  as  unmistakably. 
Omniscience  sees.  Omnipotence  could  stop, 
Omnibenevolence  pardons  :  it  must  be, 
Frown  law  its  fiercest,  there 's  a  wink  somewhere  ! 


448  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Such  was  the  logic  in  this  head  of  mine  : 

I,  like  the  rest,  wrote  "  poison  "  on  my  hread, 

But  hroke  and  ate  :  —  said  "  those  that  use  the  sword 

Shall  perish  by  the  same ;  "  then  stabbed  my  foe. 

I  stand  on  soUd  earth,  not  empty  air : 

Dislodge  me,  let  your  Pope's  crook  hale  me  hence  I 

Not  he,  nor  you  !     And  I  so  pity  both, 

I  'U  make  the  true  charge  you  want  wit  to  make : 

"  Count  Guido,  who  reveal  our  mystery, 
And  trace  all  issues  to  the  lore  of  life  : 
We  having  life  to  love  and  guard,  like  you, 
Why  did  you  put  us  upon  self-defence  ? 
You  well  knew  what  prompt  pass-word  would  appease 
The  sentry's  ire  when  folk  infringed  his  bonnds. 
And  yet  kept  mouth  shut :  do  you  wonder  then 
If,  in  mere  decency,  he  shot  you  dead  ? 
He  can't  have  people  play  such  pranks  as  yours 
Beneath  his  nose  at  noonday :  yon  disdained 
To  give  him  an  excuse  before  the  world    • 
By  crying  '  I  break  rule  to  save  our  camp  ! ' 
Under  the  old  rule,  such  ofEence  were  death ; 
And  you  had  heard  the  Pontifex  pronounce, 

*  Since  you  slay  foe  and  violate  the  form. 
Slaying  turns  murder,  which  were  sacrifice 
Had  you,  while,  say,  lawsuiting  foe  to  death, 
But  raised  an  altar  to  the  Unknown  God, 
Or  else  the  Genius  of  the  Vatican.' 
Why  then  this  pother  ?  —  all  because  the  Pope, 
Doing  his  duty,  cried  '  A  foreigner. 
You  scandalize  the  natives  :  here  at  Rome 
Romano  vivitur  more  :  wise  men,  here. 
Put  the  Church  forward  and  efface  themselves. 
The  fit  defence  had  been,  —  you  stamped  on  wheat, 
Intending  all  the  time  to  trample  tares,  — 
Were  fain  extirpate,  then,  the  heretic, 
You  now  find,  in  your  haste  was  slain  a  fool : 
Nor  Pietro,  nor  Violante,  nor  your  wife 
Meant  to  breed  up  your  babe  a  Mohnist ! 
Whence  you  are  duly  contrite.     Not  one  word 
Of  all  this  wisdom  did  you  urge :  which  slip 
Death  must  atone  for.'  " 

So,  let  death  atone  \ 
So  ends  mistake,  so  end  mistakers  !  —  end 
Perhaps  to  recommence,  —  how  should  I  know .' 
Only,  be  sure,  no  punishment,  no  pain 
Childish,  preposterous,  impossible. 


GUIDO  449 

But  some  such  fate  as  Ovid  could  foresee,  — 

Byblis  influvium,  let  the  weak  soul  end 

In  water,  sed  Lycaon  in  lupum,  but 

The  strong  become  a  wolf  f orevermore  ! 

Change  that  Pompilia  to  a  puny  stream 

Fit  to  reflect  the  daisies  on  its  bank ! 

Let  me  turn  wolf,  be  whole,  and  sate,  for  once,  — 

Wallow  in  what  is  now  a  wolfishness 

Coerced  too  much  by  the  humanity 

That 's  half  of  me  as  well !    Grow  out  of  man. 

Glut  the  wolf-nature,  —  what  remains  but  grow 

Into  the  man  again,  be  man  indeed 

And  all  man  ?     Do  I  ring  the  changes  right  ? 

Deformed,  transformed,  reformed,  informed,  conformed ! 

The  honest  instinct,  pent  and  crossed  through  Ufa, 

Let  surge  by  death  into  a  visible  flow 

Of  rapture  :  as  the  strangled  thread  of  flame 

Painfully  winds,  annoying  and  annoyed. 

Malignant  and  maUgned,  through  stone  and  ore, 

Tin  earth  exclude  the  stranger :  vented  once. 

It  finds  full  play,  is  recognized  atop 

Some  mountain  as  no  such  abnormal  birth. 

Fire  for  the  mount,  not  streamlet  for  the  vale ! 

Ay,  of  the  water  was  that  wife  of  mine  — ■ 

Be  it  for  good,  be  it  for  iU,  no  run 

O'  the  red  thread  through  that  insignificance  ! 

Again,  how  she  is  at  me  with  those  eyes  ! 

Away  with  the  empty  stare !     Be  holy  still. 

And  stupid  ever !     Occupy  your  patch 

Of  private  snow  that 's  somewhere  in  what  world 

May  now  be  growing  icy  round  your  head, 

And  aguish  at  your  footprint,  —  freeze  not  me. 

Dare  follow  not  another  step  I  take. 

Not  with  so  much  as  those  detested  eyes. 

No,  though  they  follow  but  to  pray  me  pause 

On  the  incline,  earth's  edge  that 's  next  to  hell ! 

None  of  your  abnegation  of  revenge  !  • 

Fly  at  me  frank,  tug  while  I  tear  again ! 

There  's  God,  go  tell  Him,  testify  your  worst ! 

Not  she  !     There  was  no  touch  in  her  of  hate  : 

And  it  would  prove  her  hell,  if  I  reached  mine ! 

To  know  I  suffered,  would  still  sadden  her. 

Do  what  the  angels  might  to  make  amends  ! 

Therefore  there  's  either  no  such  place  as  hell, 

Or  thence  shall  I  be  thrust  forth,  for  her  sake, 

And  thereby  undergo  three  hells,  not  one  — 


450  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

I  who,  with  outlet  for  escape  to  heaven, 
Would  tarry  if  such  flight  allowed  my  foe 
To  raise  his  head,  relieved  of  that  firm  foot 
Had  pinned  him  to  the  fiery  pavement  else  ! 
So  am  I  made,  "  who  did  not  make  myself :  " 
(How  dared  she  rob  my  own  lip  of  the  word  ?) 
Beware  me  in  what  other  wQrld  may  be  !  — 
Pompilia,  who  have  brought  me  to  this  pass ! 
All  I  know  here,  will  I  say  there,  and  go 
Beyond  the  saying  with  the  deed.     Some  use 
There  cannot  but  be  for  a  mood  like  mine, 
Implacable,  persistent  in  revenge. 
She  maundered,  "  All  is  over  and  at  end : 
I  go  my  own  road,  go  you  where  God  will ! 
Forgive  you  ?    I  forget  you !  "     There  's  the  saint 
That  takes  your  taste,  you  other  kind  of  men ! 
How  you  had  loved  her  !     Guido  wanted  skill 
To  value  such  a  woman  at  her  worth ! 
Properly  the  instructed  criticise, 
"  What 's  here,  you  simpleton  have  tossed  to  take 
Its  chance  i'  the  gutter  ?     This  a  daub,  indeed  ? 
Why,  't  is  a  Rafael  that  you  kicked  to  rags !  " 
Perhaps  so  :  some  prefer  the  pure  design : 
Give  me  my  gorge  of  color,  glut  of  gold 
In  a  glory  round  the  Virgin  made  for  me  \ 
Titian  's  the  man,  not  Monk  Angehco 
Who  traces  you  some  timid  chalky  ghost 
That  turns  the  church  into  a  charnel :    ay, 
Just  such  a  pencil  might  depict  my  wife ! 
She,  —  since  she,  also,  would  not  change  herself,  — 
Why  could  not  she  come  in  some  heart-shaped  cloud, 
Bainbowed  about  with  riches,  royalty 
Rimming  her  round,  as  round  the  tintless  lawn 
Guardingly  runs  the  selvage  cloth  of  gold  ? 
I  would  have  left  the  faint  fine  gauze  untouched, 
Needle-worked  over  with  its  lily  and  rose, 
Let  her  bleach  unmolested  in  the  midst, 
Chill  that  selected  solitary  spot 
Of  quietude  she  pleased  to  tliink  was  life. 
Purity,  pallor  grace  the  lawn  no  doubt 
When  there 's  the  costly  bordure  to  unthread 
And  make  again  an  ingot :  but  what 's  grace 
When  you  want  meat  and  drink  and  clothes  and  fire  ? 

A  tale  comes  to  my  mind  that 's  apposite  — 
Possibly  true,  probably  false,  a  truth 
Such  as  all  truths  we  live  by,  Cardinal ! 


GUI  DO  451 

'T  is  said,  a  certain  ancestor  of  mine 
Followed  —  whoever  was  the  potentate, 
To  Paynimrie,  and  in  some  battle,  broke 
Through  more  than  due  allowance  of  the  foe, 
And,  risking  much  his  own  life,  saved  the  lord's. 
Battered  and  bruised,  the  Emperor  scrambles  up, 
Rubs  his  eyes  and  looks  round  and  sees  my  sire. 
Picks  a  furze-sprig  from  out  his  hauberk-joint, 
(Token  how  near  the  ground  went  majesty,) 
And  says,  "  Take  this,  and  if  thou  get  safe  home, 
Plant  the  same  in  thy  garden-ground  to  grow : 
Run  thence  an  hour  in  a  straight  line,  and  stop : 
Describe  a  circle  round  (for  central  point) 
The  furze  aforesaid,  reaching  every  way 
The  length  of  that  hour's  run  :  I  give  it  thee,  — 
The  central  point,  to  build  a  castle  there. 
The  space  circumjacent,  for  fit  demesne, 
The  whole  to  be  thy  children's  heritage,  — 
Whom,  for  thy  sake,  bid  thou  wear  furze  on  cap  !  " 
Those  are  my  arms :  we  turned  the  furze  a  tree 
To  show  more,  and  the  grayhound  tied  thereto. 
Straining  to  start,  means  swift  and  greedy  both ; 
He  stands  upon  a  triple  mount  of  gold  — 
By  Jove,  then,  he 's  escaping  from  true  gold 
And  trying  to  arrive  at  empty  air ! 
Aha  !  the  fancy  never  crossed  my  mind  ! 
My  father  used  to  tell  me,  and  subjoin, 

"  As  for  the  castle,  that  took  wings  and  flew : 
The  broad  lands,  —  why,  to  traverse  them  to-day 
Scarce  tasks  my  gouty  feet,  and  in  my  prime 
I  doubt  not  I  could  stand  and  spit  so  far : 
But  for  the  furze,  boy,  fear  no  lack  of  that. 
So  long  as  fortune  leaves  one  field  to  grub  ! 
Wherefore,  hurrah  for  furze  and  loyalty  !  " 
What  may  I  mean,  where  may  the  lesson  lurk  ? 

"  Do  not  bestow  on  man,  by  way  of  gift, 
Furze  without  land  for  framework,  —  vaunt  no  grace 
Of  purity,  no  furze-sprig  of  a  wife. 
To  me,  i'  the  thick  of  battle  for  my  bread. 
Without  some  better  dowry,  —  gold  will  do  !  " 
No  better  gfift  than  sordid  muck  ?     Yes,  Sirs  ! 
Many  more  gifts  much  better.     Give  them  me  ! 
O  those  Olimpias  bold,  those  Biancas  brave. 
That  brought  a  husband  power  worth  Ormuz'  wealth ! 
Cried,  "  Thou  being  mine,  why,  what  but  thine  am  I  ? 
Be  thou  to  me  law,  right,  wrong,  heaven  and  hell ! 


452  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Let  us  blend  souls,  blent,  thou  in  me,  to  bid 

Two  bodies  work  one  pleasure  !     What  are  these 

Called  king,  priest,  father,  mother,  stranger,  friend  ? 

They  fret  thee  or  they  frustrate  ?     Give  the  word  — 

Be  certain  they  shall  frustrate  nothing  more  ! 

And  who  is  this  young  florid  fdolishness 

That  holds  thy  fortune  in  his  pygmy  clutch, 

—  Being  a  prince  and  potency,  forsooth !  — 

He  hesitates  to  let  the  trifle  go  ? 

Let  me  but  seal  up  eye,  sing  ear  to  sleep 

Sounder  than  Samson,  —  pounce  thou  on  the  prize 

Shall  slip  from  off  my  breast,  and  down  couch-side, 

And  on  to  floor,  and  far  as  my  lord's  feet  — 

Where  he  stands  in  the  shadow  with  the  knife, 

Waiting  to  see  what  Delilah  dares  do ! 

Is  the  youth  fair  ?     What  is  a  man  to  me 

Who  am  thy  call-bird  ?    Twist  his  neck  —  my  dupe's,  • 

Then  take  the  breast  shall  turn  a  breast  indeed  !  " 

Such  women  are  there ;  and  they  marry  whom  ? 

Why,  when  a  man  has  gone  and  hanged  himself 

Because  of  what  he  calls  a  wicked  wife,  — 

See,  if  the  very  turpitude  bemoaned 

Prove  not  mere  excellence  the  fool  ignores  ! 

His  monster  is  perfection,  —  Circe,  sent 

Straight  from  the  sun,  with  wand  the  idiot  blames 

As  not  an  honest  distaff  to  spin  wool ! 

0  thou  Lucrezia,  is  it  long  to  wait 
Yonder  where  all  the  gloom  is  in  a  glow 
With  thy  suspected  presence  ?  —  virgin  yet, 
Virtuous  again,  in  face  of  what 's  to  teach  — 
Sin  unimagiued,  unimaginable,^ —  » 

1  come  to  claim  my  bride,  —  thy  Borgia's  self 
Not  half  the  burning  bridegroom  I  shall  be ! 
Cardinal,  take  away  your  crucifix  ! 

Abate,  leave  my  lips  alone,  —  they  bite  ! 

Vainly  you  try  to  change  what  should  not  change, 

And  shall  not.    I  have  bared,  you  bathe  my  heart — 

It  grows  the  stonier  for  your  saving  dew  ! 

You  steep  the  substance,  you  would  lubricate, 

In  waters  that  but  touch  to  petrify  ! 

You  too  are  petrifactions  of  a  kind  : 

Move  not  a  muscle  that  shows  mercy ;  rave 

Another  twelve  hours,  every  word  were  waste  ! 

I  thought  you  would  not  slay  impenitence, 

But  teased,  from  men  you  slew,  contrition  first,  — 


GUIDO  453 

I  thought  you  had  a  conscience.     Cardinal, 

You  know  I  am  wronged  !  —  wronged,  say,  and  wronged, 

maintain. 
Was  this  strict  inquisition  made  for  blood 
When  first  you  showed  us  scarlet  on  your  back, 
Called  to  the  College  ?     Your  straightforward  way 
To  your  legitimate  end,  —  I  think  it  passed 
Over  a  scantling  of  heads  brained,  hearts  broke, 
Lives  trodden  into  dust !  —  how  otherwise  ? 
Such  was  the  way  o'  the  world,  and  so  you  walked. 
Does  memory  haunt  your  piUow  ?     Not  a  whit. 
God  wills  you  never  pace  your  garden-path, 
One  appetizing  hour  ere  dinner-time. 
But  your  intrusion  there  treads  out  of  life 
A  universe  of  happy  innocent  things  : 
Feel  you  remorse  about  that  damsel-fly 
Which  buzzed  so  near  your  mouth  and  flapped  your  face  ? 
You  blotted  it  from  being  at  a  blow  : 
It  was  a  fly,  you  were  a  man,  and  more. 
Lord  of  created  things,  so  took  your  course. 
Manliness,  mind,  —  these  are  things  fit  to  save, 
Fit  to  brush  fly  from  :  why,  because  I  take 
My  course,  must  needs  the  Pope  kiU  me  ?  —  kill  you ! 
You  !  for  this  instrument^  he  throws  away, 
Is  strong  to  serve  a  master,  and  were  yours 
To  have  and  hold  and  get  much  good  from  out ! 
The  Pope  who  dooms  me  needs  must  die  next  year ; 
I  '11  tell  you  how  the  chances  are  supposed 
For  his  successor :  first  the  Chamberlain, 
Old  San  Cesario,  —  CoUoredo,  next,  — 
Then,  one,  two,  three,  four,  I  refuse  to  name  ; 
After  these,  comes  Altieri ;  then  come  you  — 
Seventh  on  the  list  you  come,  unless  .  .  .  ha,  ha, 
How  can  a  dead  hand  give  a  friend  a  lift  ? 
Are  you  the  person  to  despise  the  help 
O'  the  head,  shall  drop  in  pannier  presently  ? 
So  a  child  seesaws  on  or  kicks  away 
The  fulcrum-stone  that 's  all  the  sage  requires 
To  fit  his  lever  to  and  move  the  world. 
Cardinal,  I  adjure  you  in  God's  name. 
Save  my  life,  fall  at  the  Pope's  feet,  set  forth 
Things  your  own  fashion,  not  in  words  like  these 
Made  for  a  sense  like  yours  who  apprehend ! 
Translate  into  the  Court-conventional 
"  Count  Guido  must  not  die,  is  innocent ! 
Fair,  be  assured !     But  what  an  he  were  foul, 


454  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Blood-drenched  and  murder-crusted  head  to  foot  ? 

Spare  one  whose  death  insults  the  Emperor, 

Nay,  outrages  the  Louis  you  so  love  ! 

He  has  friends  who  wiU  avenge  him  ;  enemies 

Who  will  hate  God  now  with  impunity, 

Missing  the  old  coercive  :  would  you  send 

A  soul  straight  to  perdition,  ^ying  frank 

An  atheist  ?  "     Go  and  say  this,  for  God's  sake  ! 

—  Why,  you  don't  think  I  hope  you  'U  say  one  word  ? 

Neither  shall  I  persuade  you  from  your  stand 

Nor  you  persuade  me  from  my  station :  take 

Your  crucifix  away,  I  tell  you  twice  ! 

Come,  I  am  tired  of  silence  !     Pause  enough  ! 
You  have  prayed :  I  have  gone  inside  my  soul 
And  shut  its  door  behind  me :  't  is  your  torch 
Makes  the  place  dark  :  the  darkness  let  alone 
Grows  tolerable  twilight :  one  may  grope 
And  get  to  guess  at  length  and  breadth  and  depth. 
What  is  this  fact  1  feel  persuaded  of  — 
This  something  like  a  foothold  in  the  sea. 
Although  Saint  Peter's  bark  scuds,  bUlow-borne, 
Leaves  me  to  founder  where  it  flung  me  first  ? 
Spite  of  your  splashing,  I  am  high  and  dry ! 
God  takes  his  own  part  in  each  thing  he  made ; 
Made  for  a  reason,  he  conserves  his  work, 
Gives  each  its  proper  instinct  of  defence. 
My  lamblike  wife  could  neither  bark  nor  bite, 
She  bleated,  bleated,  till  for  pity  pure 
The  vUlage  roused  up,  ran  with  pole  and  prong 
To  the  rescue,  and  behold  the  wolf 's  at  bay ! 
Shall  he  try  bleating  ?  —  or  take  turn  or  two. 
Since  the  wolf  owns  some  kinship  with  the  fox, 
And,  failing  to  escape  the  foe  by  craft. 
Give  up  attempt,  die  fighting  quietly  ? 
The  last  bad  blow  that  strikes  fire  in  at  eye 
And  on  to  brain,  and  so  out,  life  and  all, 
How  can  it  but  be  cheated  of  a  pang 
If,  fighting  quietly,  the  jaws  enjoy 
One  re-embrace  in  mid  backbone  they  break, 
After  their  weary  work  through  the  foe's  flesh  ? 
That 's  the  wolf-nature.     Don't  mistake  my  ti'ope ! 
A  Cardinal  so  qualmish  ?     Eminence, 
My  fight  is  figurative,  blows  i'  the  air. 
Brain-war  with  powers  and  principalities, 
Spirit-bravado,  no  real  fisticuffs ! 


GUI  DO  455 

I  shall  not  presently,  when  the  knock  comes, 

Cling  to  this  bench  nor  claw  the  hangman's  face, 

No,  trust  me !     I  conceive  worse  lots  than  mine. 

Whether  it  be,  the  old  contagious  fit 

And  plague  o'  the  prison  have  surprised  me  too, 

The  appropriate  drunkenness  of  the  death-hour 

Crept  on  my  sense,  kind  work  o'  the  wine  and  myrrh,  — 

I  know  not,  —  I  begin  to  taste  my  strength, 

Careless,  gay  even.     What 's  the  worth  of  life  ? 

The  Pope  's  dead  now,  my  murderous  old  man. 

For  Tozzi  told  me  so  :  and  you,  forsooth  — 

Why,  you  don't  think.  Abate,  do  your  best, 

You  '11  live  a  year  more  with  that  hacking  cough 

And  blotch  of  crimson  where  the  cheek 's  a  pit  ? 

Tozzi  has  got  you  also  down  in  book ! 

Cardinal,  only  seventh  of  seventy  near. 

Is  not  one  called  Albano  in  the  lot  ? 

Go  eat  your  heart,  you  '11  never  be  a  Pope  ! 

Inform  me,  is  it  true  you  left  your  love, 

A  Pucci,  for  promotion  in  the  church  ? 

She 's  more  than  in  the  church  —  in  the  churchyard ! 

PlautUla  Pucci,  your  afiianced  bride, 

Has  dust  now  in  the  eyes  that  held  the  love,  — 

And  Martinez,  suppose  they  make  you  Pope, 

Stops  that  with  veto,  —  so,  enjoy  yourself ! 

I  see  you  all  reel  to  the  rock,  you  waves  — 

Some  forthright,  some  describe  a  sinuous  track, 

Some,  crested  brilliantly,  with  heads  above, 

Some  in  a  strangled  swirl  sunk  who  knows  how, 

But  all  bound  whither  the  main-current  sets, 

Rockward,  an  end  in  foam  for  all  of  you  ! 

What  if  I  be  o'ertaken,  pushed  to  the  front 

By  all  you  crowding  smoother  souls  behind, 

Ajid  reach,  a  minute  sooner  than  was  meant. 

The  boundary  whereon  I  break  to  mist  ? 

Go  to !  the  smoothest  safest  of  you  all. 

Most  perfect  and  compact  wave  in  my  train, 

Spite  of  the  blue  tranquillity  above, 

Spite  of  the  breadth  before  of  lapsing  peace. 

Where  broods  the  halcyon  and  the  fish  leaps  free. 

Will  presently  begin  to  feel  the  prick 

At  lazy  heart,  the  push  at  torpid  brain. 

Will  rock  vertiginously  in  turn,  and  reel. 

And,  emulative,  rush  to  death  like  me. 

Later  or  sooner  by  a  minute  then, 

So  much  for  the  untimeliness  of  death ! 


456  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

And,  as  regards  the  manner  that  oSends, 

The  rude  and  rough,  I  count  the  same  for  gain. 

Be  the  act  harsh  and  quick !     Undoubtedly 

The  soul 's  condensed  and,  twice  itself,  expands 

To  burst  through  life,  by  alternation  due. 

Into  the  other  state  whate'er  it  prove. 

You  never  know  what  life  means  till  you  die  : 

Even  throughout  life,  't  is  death  that  makes  life  live. 

Gives  it  whatever  the  significance. 

For  see,  on  your  own  ground  and  argument, 

Suppose  life  had  no  death  to  fear,  how  find 

A  possibility  of  nobleness 

In  man,  prevented  daring  any  more  ? 

What 's  love,  what 's  faith  without  a  worst  to  dread  ? 

Lack-lustre  jewelry !  but  faith  and  love 

With  death  behind  them  bidding  do  or  die  — 

Put  such  a  foil  at  back,  the  sparkle  's  born  ! 

From  out  myself  how  the  strange  colors  come  ! 

Is  there  a  new  rule  in  another  world  ? 

Be  sure  I  shall  resign  myself :  as  here 

I  recognized  no  law  I  could  not  see, 

There,  what  I  see,  I  shall  acknowledge  too : 

On  earth  I  never  took  the  Pope  for  God, 

In  heaven  I  shall  scarce  take  God  for  the  Pope. 

Unmanned,  remanned  :  I  hold  it  probable  — 

With  something  changeless  at  the  heart  of  me 

To  know  me  by,  some  nucleus  that 's  myself : 

Accretions  did  it  wrong  ?     Away  with  them  — 

You  soon  shall  see  the  use  of  fire  ! 

Till  when,  ■ 
All  that  was,  is  ;  and  must  forever  be. 
Nor  is  it  in  me  to  unhate  my  hates,  — 
I  use  up  my  last  strength  to  strike  once  more 
Old  Pietro  in  the  wine-house-gossip-face, 
To  trample  underfoot  the  whme  and  wile 
Of  beast  Violante,  —  and  I  grow  one  gorge 
To  loathingly  reject  Pompilia's  pale 
Poison  my  hasty  hunger  took  for  food. 
A  strong  tree  wants  no  wreaths  about  its  trunk, 
No  cloying  cups,  no  sickly  sweet  of  scent, 
But  sustenance  at  root,  a  bucketful. 
How  else  lived  that  Athenian  who  died  so. 
Drinking  hot  bull's  blood,  fit  for  men  like  me  ? 
I  lived  and  died  a  man,  and  take  man's  chance. 
Honest  and  bold  :  right  will  be  done  to  such. 


ouiDO  457 

Who  are  these  you  have  let  descend  my  stair  ? 

Ha,  their  accursed  psalm  !     Lights  at  the  sUl ! 

Is  it  "  Open  "  they  dare  bid  you  ?     Treachery ! 

Sirs,  have  I  spoken  one  word  all  this  while 

Out  of  the  world  of  words  I  had  to  say  ? 

Not  one  word  !     AH  was  folly  —  I  laughed  and  mocked ! 

Sirs,  my  first  true  word,  aU  tenth  and  no  lie, 

Is  —  save  me  notwithstanding !     Life  is  all ! 

I  was  just  stark  mad,  —  let  the  madman  live 

Pressed  by  as  many  chains  as  you  please  pile ! 

Don't  open  !     Hold  me  from  them  !     I  am  yours, 

I  am  the  Granduke's  —  no,  I  am  the  Pope's  ! 

Abate,  —  Cardinal,  —  Christ,  —  Maria,  —  God,  .  <,  . 

Fompilia,  will  you  let  them  murder  me  ? 


xn. 

THE  BOOK  AND  THE  RING. 

Here  were  the  end,  had  anything  an  end : 

Thus,  lit  and  launched,  up  and  up  roared  and  soared 

A  rocket,  till  the  key  o'  the  vault  was  reached, 

And  wide  heaven  held,  a  breathless  minute-space, 

In  brilliant  usurpature  :  thus  caught  spark, 

Rushed  to  the  height,  and  hung  at  full  of  fame 

Over  men's  upturned  faces,  ghastly  thence,    ^ 

Our  glaring  Guido :  now  decline  must  be. 

In  its  explosion,  you  have  seen  his  act. 

By  my  power  —  maybe,  judged  it  by  your  own,  — 

Or  composite  as  good  orbs  prove,  or  crammed 

With  worse  ingredients  than  the  Wormwood  Star. 

The  act,  over  and  ended,  falls  and  fades  : 

What  was  once  seen,  grows  what  is  now  described, 

Then  talked  of,  told  about,  a  tinge  the  less 

In  every  fresh  transmission ;  till  it  melts, 

Trickles  in  silent  orange  or  wan  gray 

Across  our  memory,  dies  and  leaves  all  daxk, 

And  presently  we  find  the  stars  again. 

Follow  the  main  streaks,  meditate  the  mode 

Of  brightness,  how  it  hastes  to  blend  with  black  3 

After  that  February  Twenty-Two, 
Since  our  salvation,  Sixteen-Ninety-Eight, 
Of  all  reports  that  were,  or  may  have  been, 
Concerning  those  the  day  killed  or  let  live, 
Four  I  count  only.     Take  the  first  that  comes. 
A  letter  from  a  stranger,  man  of  rank, 
Venetian  visitor  at  Rome,  —  who  knows, 
On  what  pretence  of  busy  idleness  ? 
Thus  he  begins  on  evening  of  that  day. 


"  Here  are  we  at  our  end  of  Carnival ; 
Prodigious  gayety  and  monstrous  mirth. 
And  constant  shift  of  entertaining  show : 


THE  BOOK  AND  THE  RING  459 

With  influx,  from  each  quarter  of  the  globe, 
Of  strangers  nowise  wishful  to  be  last 
I'  the  struggle  for  a  good  place  presently 
When  that  befalls,  fate  cannot  long  defer. 
The  old  Pope  totters  on  the  verge  o'  the  grave  : 
You  see,  Malpichi  understood  far  more 
Than  Tozzi  how  to  treat  the  ailments  :  age. 
No  question,  renders  these  inveterate. 
Cardinal  Spada,  actual  Minister, 
Is  possible  Pope ;  I  wager  on  his  head, 
Since  those  four  entertainments  of  his  niece 
Which  set  aU  Borne  a-stare :  Pope  probably  — 
Though  CoUoredo  has  his  backers  too, 
And'San  Cesario  makes  one  doubt  at  times : 
Altieri  will  be  Chamberlain  at  most. 

"  A  week  ago  the  sun  was  warm  like  May, 
And  the  old  man  took  daily  exercise 
Along  the  riverside ;  he  loves  to  see 
That  Custom-house  he  built  upon  the  bank. 
For,  Naples-born,  his  tastes  are  maritime  : 
But  yesterday  he  had  to  keep  in-doors 
Because  of  the  outrageous  rain  that  fell. 
On  such  days  the  good  soul  has  fainting-fits, 
Or  lies  in  stupor,  scarcely  makes  believe 
Of  minding  business,  fumbles  at  his  beads. 
They  say,  the  trust  that  keeps  his  heart  alive 
Is  that,  by  lasting  till  December  next. 
He  may  hold  Jubilee  a  second  time. 
And,  twice  in  one  reign,  ope  the  Holy  Doors. 
By  the  way,  somebody  responsible 
Assures  me  that  the  King  of  France  has  writ 
Fresh  orders  :  Fenelon  wUl  be  condemned : 
The  Cardinal  makes  a  wry  face  enough. 
Having  a  love  for  the  delinquent :  still, 
He  's  the  ambassador,  must  press  the  point. 
Have  you  a  wager  too,  dependent  here  ? 

"  Now,  from  such  matters  to  divert  awhile. 
Hear  of  to-day's  event  which  crowns  the  week. 
Casts  all  the  other  wagers  into  shade. 
Tell  Dandolo  I  owe  him  fifty  drops 
Of  heart's  blood  in  the  shape  of  gold  zecchines ! 
The  Pope  has  done  his  worst :  I  have  to  pay 
For  the  execution  of  the  Count,  by  Jove ! 
Two  days  since,  I  reported  him  as  safe. 


460  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Re-echoing  the  conviction  of  all  Borne  : 

Who  could  suspect  its  one  deaf  ear  —  the  Pope's  ? 

But  prejudices  grow  insuperable, 

And  that  old  enmity  to  Austria,  that 

Passion  for  France  and  France's  pageant-king 

(Of  which,  why  pause  to  multiply  the  proofs 

Now  scandalously  rife  in  Europe's  mouth  ?) 

These  fairly  got  the  better  in  our  man 

Of  justice,  prudence,  and  esprit  de  corps, 

And  he  persisted  in  the  butchery. 

Also,  'tis  said  that  in  his  latest  walk 

To  that  Doganarby-the-Bank  he  built, 

The  crowd,  —  he  suffers  question,  unrebuked,  — 

Asked,  '  Whether  murder  was  a  privilege 

Only  reserved  for  nobles  like  the  Count  ? ' 

And  he  was  ever  mindful  of  the  mob. 

Martinez,  the  Caesarean  Minister, 

—  Who  used  his  best  endeavors  to  spare  blood, 
And  strongly  pleaded  for  the  life  '  of  one,' 
Urged  he,  '  I  may  have  dined  at  table  with ! '  — 
He  will  not  soon  forget  the  Pope's  rebuff, 

—  Feels  the  slight  sensibly,  I  promise  you  ! 
And  but  for  the  dissuasion  of  two  eyes 

That  make  with  him  foul  weather  or  fine  day, 

He  had  abstained,  nor  graced  the  spectacle  : 

As  it  was,  barely  would  he  condescend 

Look  forth  from  the  palehetto  where  he  sat 

Under  the  Pincian :  we  shall  hear  of  this ! 

The  substituting,  too,  the  People's  Square 

For  the  out-o'-the-way  old  quarter  by  the  Bridge, 

Was  meant  as  a  conciliatory  sop 

To  the  mob  ;  it  gave  one  holiday  the  more. 

But  the  French  Embassy  might  unfurl  flag,  — 

Still  the  good  luck  of  France  to  fling  a  foe  ! 

Cardinal  Bouillon  triumphs  properly ! 

Palohetti  were  erected  in  the  Place, 

And  houses,  at  the  edge  of  the  Three  Streets, 

Let  their  front  windows  at  six  dollars  each : 

Anguisciola,  that  patron  of  the  arts, 

Hired  one  ;  our  Envoy  Contarini  too. 

"  Now  for  the  thing  ;  no  sooner  the  decree 
Gone  forth,  —  't  is  f our-and-twenty  hours  ago,  — 
Than  Acciaiuoli  and  Panciatichi, 
Old  friends,  indeed  compatriots  of  the  man. 
Being  pitched  on  as  the  couple  properest 


THE  BOOK  AND    THE  RING  461 

To  intimate  the  sentence  yesternight, 

Were  closeted  ere  cock-crow  with  the  Count. 

They  both  report  their  efforts  to  dispose 

The  unhappy  nobleman  for  ending  well, 

Despite  the  natural  sense  of  injury, 

Were  crowned  at  last  with  a  complete  success. 

And  when  the  Company  of  Death  arrived 

At  twenty-hours,  —  the  way  they  reckon  here,— 

We  say,  at  sunset,  after  dinner-time,  — 

The  Count  was  led  down,  hoisted  up  on  car. 

Last  of  the  five,  as  heinousest,  you  know : 

Yet  they  allowed  one  whole  car  to  each  man. 

His  intrepidity,  nay,  nonchalance, 

As  up  he  stood  and  down  he  sat  himself, 

Struck  admiration  into  those  who  saw. 

Then  the  procession  started,  took  the  way 

From  the  New  Prisons  by  the  Pilgrim's  Street, 

The  street  of  the  Governo,  Pasquin's  Street, 

(Where  was  stuck  up,  'mid  other  epigrams, 

A  quatrain  .  .  .  but  of  aU  that,  presently !) 

The  Place  Navona,  the  Pantheon's  Place, 

Place  of  the  Column,  last  the  Corse's  length, 

And  so  debouched  thence  at  Mannaia's  foot 

I'  the  Place  o'  the  People.     As  is  evident, 

(Despite  the  malice,  —  plainly  meant,  I  fear, 

By  this  abrupt  change  of  locality,  — 

The  Square  's  no  such  bad  place  to  head  and  hang) 

We  had  the  titiUation  as  we  sat 

Assembled,  (quality  in  conclave,  ha  ?) 

Of,  minute  after  minute,  some  report 

How  the  slow  show  was  winding  on  its  way. 

Now  did  a  car  run  over,  kiU  a  man. 

Just  opposite  a  pork-shop  numbered  Twelve  : 

And  bitter  were  the  outcries  of  the  mob 

Against  the  Pope :  for,  but  that  he  forbids 

The  Lottery,  why,  Twelve  were  Tern  Quatern ! 

Now  did  a  beggar  by  Saint  Agnes,  lame 

From  his  youth  up,  recover  use  of  leg. 

Through  prayer  of  Giiido  as  he  glanced  that  way : 

So  that  the  crowd  near  crammed  his  hat  with  coin. 

Thus  was  kept  up  excitement  to  the  last, 

—  Not  an  abrupt  out-bolting,  as  of  yore, 

From  Castle,  over  Bridge  and  on  to  block. 

And  so  all  ended  ere  you  well  could  wink ! 

"  To  mount  the  scaffold-steps,  Guido  was  last 
Here  also,  as  atrociousest  in  crime. 


462  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

We  hardly  noticed  how  the  peasants  died. 

They  dangled  somehow  soon  to  right  and  left, 

And  we  remained  all  ears  and  eyes,  could  give 

Ourselves  to  Guido  imdividedly, 

As  he  harangued  the  multitude  beneath. 

He  begged  forgiveness  on  the  part  of  God, 

And  fair  construction  of  his  act  from  men. 

Whose  suffrage  he  entreated  for  his  soul, 

Suggesting  that  we  should  forthwith  repeat 

A  Pater  and  an  Ave,  with  the  hymn 

Salve  Regina  Cceli,  for  his  sake. 

Which  said,  he  turned  to  the  confessor,  crossed 

And  reconciled  himself,  with  decency. 

Oft  glancing  at  Saint  Mary's  opposite, 

Where  they  possess,  and  showed  in  shrine  to-day, 

The  Blessed  Uiribilimts  of  our  Lord, 

(A  relic  't  is  believed  no  other  church 

In  Some  can  boast  of)  —  then  rose  up,  as  brisk 

Knelt  down  again,  bent  head,  adapted  neck, 

And,  with  the  name  of  Jesus  on  his  lips, 

Received  the  fatal  blow. 

"  The  headsman  showed 
The  head  to  the  populace.     Must  I  avouch 
We  strangers  own  to  disappointment  here  ? 
Report  pronounced  him  fully  six  feet  high, 
Youngish,  considering  his  fifty  years, 
And,  if  not  handsome,  dignified  at  least. 
Indeed,  it  was  no  face  to  please  a  wife  ! 
His  friends  say,  this  was  caused  by  the  costume  : 
He  wore  the  dress  he  did  the  murder  in. 
That  is,  a  juslro-corps  of  russet  serge. 
Black  camisole,  coarse  cloak  of  baracan 
(So  they  style  here  the  garb  of  goat's-hair  cloth), 
White  hat  and  cotton  cap  beneath,  poor  Count, 
Preservative  against  the  evening  dews 
During  the  journey  from  Arezzo.     Well, 
So  died  the  man,  and  so  his  end  was  peace  ; 
Whence  many  a  moral  were  to  meditate. 
Spada  —  you  may  bet  Dandolo  —  is  Pope  ! 
Now  for  the  quatrain  ! " 


No,  friend,  this  will  do  ! 
You  've  sputtered  into  sparks.     What  streak  comes  next  ? 
A  letter :  Don  Giacinto  Arcangeli, 


THE  BOOK  AND   THE  RING  463 

Doctor  and  Proctor,  him  I  made  you  mark 

Buckle  to  business  in  his  study  late, 

The  virtuous  sire,  the  valiant  for  the  truth, 

Acquaints  his  correspondent,  —  Florentine, 

By  name  Cencini,  advocate  as  well, 

Socius  and  brother-in-the-devU  to  match,  — 

A  friend  of  Franceschini,  anyhow. 

And  knit  up  with  the  bowels  of  the  case,  — 

Acquaints  him  (in  this  paper  that  I  touch) 

How  their  joint  efEort  to  obtain  reprieve 

For  Guido  had  so  nearly  nicked  the  nine 

And  ninety  and  one  over,  —  folk  would  say. 

At  Tarocs,  —  or  succeeded,  —  in  our  phrase. 

To  this  Cencini's  care  I  owe  the  Book, 

The  yellow  thing  I  take  and  toss  once  more,  — 

How  will  it  be,  my  four-years' -intimate. 

When  thou  and  I  part  company  anon  ?  — 

'Twas  he,  the  "whole  position  of  the  case," 

Heading  and  summary,  were  put  before ; 

Discreetly  in  my  Book  he  bound  them  all, 

Adding  some  three  epistles  to  the  point. 

Here  is  the  first  of  these,  part  fresh  as  penned, 

The  sand,  that  dried  the  ink,  not  rubbed  away, 

Though  penned  the  day  whereof  it  tells  the  deed : 

Part  —  extant  just  as  plainly,  you  know  where, 

Whence  came  the  other  stuff,  went,  you  know  how, 

To  make  the  Ring  that 's  all  but  round  and  done. 


"  Late  they  arrived,  too  late,  egregious  Sir, 
Those  same  justificative  points  you  urge 
Might  benefit  His  Blessed  Memory 
Count  Guido  Franceschini  now  with  God  : 
Since  the  Court,  —  to  state  things  succinctly,  —  styled 
The  Congregation  of  the  Governor, 
Having  resolved  on  Tuesday  last  our  cause 
I'  the  guilty  sense,  with  death  for  punishment, 
Spite  of  all  pleas  by  me  deducible 
In  favor  of  said  Blessed  Memory,  — 
I,  with  expenditure  of  pains  enough. 
Obtained  a  respite,  leave  to  claim  and  prove 
Exemption  from  the  law's  award,  —  alleged 
The  power  and  privilege  o'  the  Clericate : 
To  which  effect  a  courier  was  dispatched. 
But  ere  an  answer  from  Arezzo  came, 
The  Holiness  of  our  Lord  the  Pope  (prepare !) 


464  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Judging  it  inexpedient  to  postpone 

The  execution  of  such  sentence  passed, 

Saw  fit,  by  his  particular  chirograph. 

To  derogate,  dispense  with  privilege. 

And  wink  at  any  hurt  accruing  thence 

To  Mother  Church  through  damage  of  her  son  : 

Also,  to  overpass  and  set  aside 

That  other  plea  on  score  of  tender  age. 

Put  forth  by  me  to  do  Pasquini  good. 

One  of  the  four  in  trouble  with  our  friend. 

So  that  all  five,  to-day,  have  sufEered  death 

With  no  distinction  save  in  dying,  —  he. 

Decollate  by  mere  due  of  privilege. 

The  rest  hanged  decently  and  in  order.     Thus 

Came  the  Count  to  his  end  of  gallant  man, 

Defunct  in  faith  and  exemplarity : 

Nor  shall  the  shield  of  his  great  House  lose  shine 

Thereby,  nor  its  blue  banner  blush  to  red. 

This,  too,  should  yield  sustainment  to  our  hearts  — 

He  had  commiseration  and  respect 

In  his  decease  from  imiversal  Rome, 

Quantum  est  homimi/m  venustiorum, 

The  nice  and  cultivated  eveiywhere  : 

Though,  in  respect  of  me  his  advocate, 

Needs  must  I  groan  o'er  my  debility. 

Attribute  the  untoward  event  o'  the  strife 

To  nothing  but  my  own  crass  ignorance 

Which  failed  to  set  the  valid  reasons  forth. 

Find  fit  excuse  :  such  is  the  fate  of  war  ! 

May  God  compensate  us  the  direful  blow 

By  future  blessings  on  his  family 

Whereof  I  lowly  beg  the  next  commands  ; 

—  Whereto,  as  humbly,  I  confirm  myself  "... 

And  so  forth,  —  follow  name  and  place  and  date. 
On  next  leaf  — 

"  Hactenus  senioribus  ! 
There,  old  fox,  show  the  clients  t'  other  side 
And  keep  this  corner  sacred,  I  beseech  ! 
Tou  and  your  pleas  and  proofs  were  what  folk  call 
Pisan  assistance,  aid  that  comes  too  late, 
Saves  a  man  dead  as  nail  in  post  of  door. 
Had  I  but  time  and  space  for  narrative  ! 
What  was  the  good  of  twenty  Clericates 
When  Somebody's  thick  headpiece  once  was  bent 
On  seeing  Guido's  drop  into  the  bag  ? 


THE  BOOK  AND  THE  RING  465 

How  these  old  men  like  giving  youth  a  push  ! 

So  much  the  better :  next  push  goes  to  him, 

And  a  new  Pope  begins  the  century. 

Much  good  I  get  by  my  superb  defence ! 

But  argument  is  solid  and  subsists, 

WhUe  obstinacy  and  ineptitude 

Accompany  the  owner  to  his  tomb ; 

What  do  I  care  how  soon  ?     Beside,  folks  see  ! 

Rome  will  have  relished  heartily  the  show, 

Yet  understood  the  motives,  never  fear, 

Which  caused  the  indecent  change  o'  the  People's  Place 

To  the  People's  Playground,  —  stigmatize  the  spite 

Which  in  a  trice  precipitated  things ! 

As  oft  the  moribund  will  give  a  kick 

To  show  they  are  not  absolutely  dead, 

So  feebleness  i'  the  socket  shoots  its  last, 

A  spirt  of  violence  for  energy  ! 

"  But  thou,  Cencini,  brother  of  my  breast, 

0  fox,  whose  home  is  'mid  the  tender  grape. 
Whose  couch  in  Tuscany  by  Themis'  throne, 
Subject  to  no  such  .  .  .  best  I  shut  my  mouth 
Or  only  open  it  again  to  say, 

This  pother  and  confusion  fairly  laid. 

My  hands  are  empty  and  my  satchel  lank. 

Now  then  for  both  the  Matrimonial  Cause 

And  the  case  of  Gomez  !     Serve  them  hot  and  hot ! 

"  Seliqua  differamus  in  crastinum  ! 
The  impatient  estafette  cracks  whip  outside  : 
Still,  though  the  earth  should  swallow  him  who  swears 
And  me  who  make  the  mischief,  in  must  slip  — 
My  boy,  your  godson,  fat-chaps  Hyacinth, 
Enjoyed  the  sight  while  Papa  plodded  here. 

1  promised  him,  the  rogue,  a  month  ago. 
The  day  his  birthday  was,  of  all  the  days. 
That  if  I  failed  to  save  Count  Guido's  head, 
Cinuccio  should  at  least  go  see  it  chopped 

From  trunk  —  '  So,  latinize  your  thanks  ! '  quoth  I, 
'  That  I  prefer,  hoc  Tnalim,'  raps  me  out 
The  rogue  :  you  notice  the  subjunctive  ?     Ah  ! 
Accordingly  he  sat  there,  bold  in  box, 
Proud  as  the  Pope  behind  the  peacock-fans : 
Whereon  a  certain  lady-patroness 
For  whom  I  manage  things  (my  boy  in  front, 
Her  Marquis  sat  the  third  in  evidence  ; 


466  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Boys  have  no  eyes  nor  ears  save  for  the  show) 

'  This  time,  Cintino,'  was  her  sportive  word, 
When  whiz-ujid  thump  went  axe  and  mowed  lay  man, 
And  folk  could  fall  to  the  suspended  chat, 

'  This  time,  you  see,  Bottini  rules  the  roast, 
Nor  can  Papa  with  all  his  eloquence 
Be  reckoned  on  to  help  as  heretofore  ! ' 
Whereat  Cinone  pouts ;  then,  sparkishly  — 

'  Papa  knew  hetter  than  aggrieve  his  Pope, 
And  balk  him  of  his  grudge  against  our  Count, 
Else  he  'd  have  argued-o£E  Bottini's  '  .  .  .  what  ? 

'  His  nose,'  —  the  rogue  !  well  parried  of  the  boy ! 
He 's  long  since  out  of  Caesar  (eight  years  old) 
And  as  for  tripping  in  Eutropius  .  .  .  well, 
Season  the  more  that  we  strain  every  nerve 
To  do  him  justice,  mould  a  model-mouth, 
A  Bartolus-cum-Baldo  for  next  age  : 
For  that  I  purse  the  pieces,  work  the  brain. 
And  want  both  Gomez  and  the  marriage-case, 
Success  with  which  shall  plaster  aught  of  pate 
That 's  broken  in  me  by  Bottini's  flail. 
And  bruise  his  own,  belike,  that  wags  and  brags. 
Adverti  supplico  humiliter 
Qiwd,  don't  the  fungus  see,  the  fop  divine 
That  one  hand  drives  two  horses,  left  and  right  ? 
With  this  rein  did  I  rescue  from  the  ditch 
The  fortune  of  our  Franceschini,  keep 
Unsplashed  the  credit  of  a  noble  House, 
And  set  the  fashionable  cause  at  Rome 
A-prancing  till  bystanders  shouted  '  'ware  ! ' 
The  other  rein's  judicious  management 
SufEered  old  Somebody  to  keep  the  pace, 
Hobblingly  play  the  roadster  :  who  but  he 
Had  his  opinion,  was  not  led  by  the  nose 
In  leash  of  quibbles  strung  to  look  like  law ! 
You  '11  soon  see,  —  when  I  go  to  pay  devoir 
And  compliment  him  on  confuting  me,  — 
If,  by  a  back-swing  of  the  pendulum, 
Grace  be  not,  thick  and  threefold,  consequent 

'  I  must  decide  as  I  see  proper,  Don  ! 
I  'm  Pope,  I  have  my  inward  lights  for  guide. 
Had  learning  been  the  matter  in 'dispute, 
Could  eloquence  avail  to  gainsay  fact. 
Yours  were  the  victory,  be  comforted  !  ' 
Cinuzzo  will  be  gainer  by  it  all. 
Quick  then  with  Gomez,  hot  and  hot  next  case  !  " 


THE  BOOK  AND   THE  RING  467 

Follows,  a  letter,  takes  the  other  side. 

Tall  blue-eyed  Fisc  whose  head  is  capped  with  cloud, 

Doctor  Bottini,  —  to  no  matter  who. 

Writes  on  the  Monday  two  days  afterward. 

Now  shall  the  honest  championship  of  right, 

Crowned  with  success,  enjoy  at  last,  unblamed, 

Moderate  triumph  !     Now  shall  eloquence 

Poured  forth  in  fancied  floods  for  virtue's  sake, 

(The  print  is  sorrowfully  dyked  and  dammed, 

But  shows  where  fain  the  unbridled  force  would  flow, 

Finding  a  channel)  —  now  shall  this  refresh 

The  thirsty  donor  with  a  drop  or  two  ! 

Here  has  been  truth  at  issue  with  a  lie  : 

Let  who  gained  truth  the  day  have  handsome  pride 

In  his  own  prowess  !     Eh  ?     What  ails  the  man  ? 


"  WeU,  it  is  over,  ends  as  I  foresaw : 
Easily  proved,  Pompilia's  innocence  ! 
Catch  diem  entrusting  Guido's  guilt  to  me 
Who  had  as  usual,  the  plain  truth  to  plead. 
I  always  knew  the  clearness  of  the  stream 
Would  show  the  fish  so  thoroughly,  chUd  might  prong 
The  clumsy  monster  :  with  no  mud  to  splash. 
Small  credit  to  lynx-eye  and  lightning-spear ! 
This  Guido,  —  (much  sport  he  contrived  to  make, 
Who  at  first  twist,  preamble  of  the  cord, 
Turned  white,  told  aU,  like  the  poltroon  he  was  !)  — 
Finished,  as  you  expect,  a  penitent, 
PuUy  confessed  his  crime,  and  made  amends, 

•    And,  edifying  Rome  last  Saturday, 

Died  like  a  saint,  poor  devil !     That 's  the  man 
The  gods  still  give  to  my  antagonist : 
Imagine  how  Arcangeli  claps  wing 
And  crows  !     '  Such  formidable  facts  to  face, 
So  naked  to  attack,  my  client  here. 
And  yet  I  kept  a  month  the  Fisc  at  bay. 
And  in  the  end  had  foiled  him  of  the  prize 
By  this  arch-stroke,  this  plea  of  privilege, 
But  that  the  Pope  must  gratify  his  whim. 
Put  in  his  word,  poor  old  man,  —  let  it  pass  !  ' 
—  Such  is  the  cue  to  which  all  Rome  responds. 
What  with  the  plain  truth  given  me  to  .uphold, 
And,  should  I  let  truth  slip,  the  Pope  at  hand 
To  pick  up,  steady  her  on  legs  again. 
My  office  turns  a  pleasantry  indeed.' 


468  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Not  that  the  burly  boaster  did  one  jot 

O'  the  little  was  to  do  —  young  Spreti's  work ! 

But  for  him,  —  manikin  and  dandiprat, 

Mere  candle-end  and  inch  of  cleverness 

Stuck  on  Arcangeli's  save-all,  —  but  for  him 

The  spruce  young  Spreti,  what  is  bad  were  worse  ! 

"  I  looked  that  Rome  should  have  the  natural  gird 
At  advocate  with  case  that  proves  itself ; 
I  knew  Arcangeli  would  grin  and  brag : 
But  what  say  you  to  one  impertinence 
Might  move  a  stone  ?    That  monk,  you  are  to  know, 
That  barefoot  Augustinian  whose  report 
O'  the  dying  woman's  words  did  detriment 
To  my  best  points  it  took  the  freshness  from, 
—  That  meddler  preached  to  purpose  yesterday 
At  San  Lorenzo  as  a  winding-up 
O'  the  show  which  proved  a  treasure  to  the  church. 
Out  comes  his  sermon  smoking  from  the  press : 
Its  text  —  '  Let  God  be  true,  and  every  man 
A  liar '  —  and  its  application,  this, 
The  longest-winded  of  the  paragraphs, 
I  straight  unstitch,  tear  out  and  treat  you  with : 
'T  is  piping  hot  and  posts  through  Borne  to-day. 
Kemember  it,  as  I  engage  to  do ! 


"  But  if  you  rather  be  disposed  to  see 
In  the  result  of  the  long  trial  here,  — 
This  dealing  doom  to  guilt  and  doling  praise 
To  innocency,  —  any  proof  that  truth 
May  look  for  vindication  from  the  world. 
Much  will  you  have  misread  the  signs,  I  say. 
God,  who  seems  acquiescent  in  the  main 
With  those  who  add  '  So  will  he  ever  sleep '  — 
Flutters  their  foolishness  from  time  to  time, 
Puts  forth  his  right-hand  recognizably  ; 
Even  as,  to  fools  who  deem  he  needs  must  right 
Wrong  on  the  instant,  as  if  earth  were  heaven, 
He  wakes  remonstrance —  'Passive,  Lord,  how  long?' 
Because  Pompilia's  purity  prevails. 
Conclude  you,  aU  truth  triumphs  in  the  end  ? 
So  might  those  old  inhabitants  of  the  ark, 
Witnessing  haply  their  dove's  safe  return. 
Pronounce  there  was  no  danger,  aU  the  while 
O'  the  deluge,  to  the  creature's  counterparts, 


THE  BOOK  AND   THE  RING  469 

Aught  that  beat  wing  i'  the  world,  was  white  or  soft,  — 
And  that  the  lark,  the  thrush,  the  culver  too, 
Might  equally  have  traversed  air,  found  earth, 
And  brought  back  olive-branch  in  unharmed  bill. 
Methinks  I  hear  the  Patriarch's  warning  voice  — 
*  Though  this  one  breast,  by  miracle,  return. 
No  wave  rolls  by,  in  all  the  waste,  but  bears 
Within  it  some  dead  dove-like  thing  as  dear. 
Beauty  made  blank  and  harmlessness  destroyed ! ' 
How  many  chaste  and  noble  sister-fames 
Wanted  the  extricating  hand,  so  lie 
Strangled,  for  one  Pompilia  proud  above 
The  welter,  plucked  from  the  world's  calumny. 
Stupidity,  simplicity,  —  who  cares  ? 

"  Romans  !     An  elder  race  possessed  your  land 
Long  ago,  and  a  false  faith  lingered  still. 
As  shades  do,  though  the  morning-star  be  out. 
Doubtless  some  pagan  of  the  twilight-day 
Has  often  pointed  to  a  cavern-mouth. 
Obnoxious  to  beholders,  hard  by  Rome, 
And  said,  —  nor  he  a  bad  man,  no,  nor  fool,  — 
Only  a  man  born  blind  like  all  his  mates,  — 

'  Here  skulk  in  safety,  lurk,  defying  law, 
The  devotees  to  execrable  creed. 
Adoring —  with  what  culture  .  .  .  Jove,  avert 
Thy  vengeance  from  us  worshippers  of  thee  !  .  .  . 
What  rites  obscene  —  their  idol-god  an  Ass ! ' 
So  went  the  word  forth,  so  acceptance  found. 
So  century  re-echoed  century. 
Cursed  the  accursed,  —  and  so,  from  sire  to  son, 
You  Romans  cried,  '  The  offscourings  of  our  race, 
Corrupt  within  the  depths  there :  fitly  fiends 
Perform  a  temple-service  o'er  the  dead : 
Child,  gather  garment  round  thee,  pass  nor  pry ! ' 
Thus  groaned  your  generations  :  till  the   time 
Grew  ripe,  and  lightning  had  revealed,  belike,  — 
Through  crevice  peeped  into  by  curious  fear,  — 
Some  object  even  fear  could  recognize 
I'  the  place  of  spectres  ;  on  the  iUumined  wall, 
To  wit,  some  nook,  tradition  talks  about, 
Narrow  and  short,  a  corpse's  length,  no  more  : 
And  by  it,  in  the  due  receptacle. 
The  little  rude  brown  lamp  of  earthenware, 
The  cruse,  was  meant  for  flowers,  but  now  held  blood, 
The  rough-scratched  palm-branch,  and  the  legend  left 


470  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Pro  Christo.     Then  the  mystery  lay  clear : 

The  abhorred  one  was  a  martyr  all  the  time, 

Heaven's  saint  whereof  earth  was  not  worthy.     What  ? 

Do  you  continue  in  the  old  belief  ? 

Where  blackness  bides  unbroke,  must  devils  brood  ? 

Is  it  so  certain  not  another  cell 

O'  the  myriad  that  make  up  the  catacomb, 

Contains  some  saint  a  second  flash  would  show  ? 

Will  you  ascend  into  the  light  of  day 

And,  having  recognized  a  martyr's  shrine, 

Go  join  the  votaries  that  gape  around 

Each  vulgar  god  that  awes  the  market-place  ? 

Are  these  the  objects  of  your  praising  ?     See ! 

In  the  outstretched  right  hand  of  ApoUo,  there. 

Lies  screened  a  scorpion  :  housed  amid  the  folds 

Of  Juno's  mantle  lurks  a  centipede  ! 

Each  statue  of  a  god  were  fltUer  styled 

Demon  and  devil.     Glorify  no  brass 

That  shines  like  burnished  gold  in  noonday  glare, 

For  fools  !     Be  otherwise  instructed,  you ! 

And  preferably  ponder,  ere  ye  judge. 

Each  incident  of  this  strange  human  play 

Privily  acted  on  a  theatre. 

That  seemed  secure  from  every  gaze  but  God's,  — 

Till,  of  a  sudden,  earthquake  laid  wall  low 

And  let  the  world  perceive  wild  work  inside, 

And  how,  in  petrifaction  of  surprise. 

The  actors  stood,  —  raised  arm  and  planted  foot,  — 

Mouth  as  it  made,  eye  as  it  evidenced. 

Despairing  shriek,  triumphant  hate,  —  transfixed, 

Both  he  who  takes  and  she  who  yields  the  life. 

"  As  ye  become  spectators  of  this  scene  — 
Watch  obscuration  of  a  pearl-pure  fame 
By  vapory  films,  enwoven  circumstance, 
—  A  soul  made  weak  by  its  pathetic  want 
Of  just  the  first  apprenticeship  to  sin, 
Which  thenceforth  makes  the  sinning  soul  secure 
From  all  foes  save  itself,  soul's  truliest  foe,  — 
Since  egg  turned  snake  needs  fear  no  serpentry,  — 
As  ye  behold  this  web  of  circumstance 
Deepen  the  more  for  every  thrill  and  throe. 
Convulsive  effort  to  disperse  the  films 
And  disenmesh  the  fame  o'  the  martyr,  —  mark 
How  all  those  means,  the  unfriended  one  pursues, 
To  keep  the  treasure  trusted  to  her  breast, 


THE  BOOK  AND   THE  RING  471 

Each  struggle  in  the  flight  from  death  to  life, 

How  all,  by  procuration  of  the  powers 

Of  darkness,  are  transformed,  —  no  single  ray. 

Shot  forth  to  show  and  save  the  inmost  star, 

But,  passed  as  through  hell's  prism,  proceeding  black 

To  the  world  that  hates  white :  as  ye  watch,  I  say, 

Till  dusk  and  such  defacement  grow  eclipse 

By  —  marvellous  perversity  of  man !  — 

The  inadequacy  and  inaptitude 

Of  that  selfsame  machine,  that  very  law 

Man  vaunts,  devised  to  dissipate  the  gloom, 

Rescue  the  drowning  orb  from  calumny, 

—  Hear  law,  appointed  to  defend  the  just, 

Submit,  for  best  defence,  that  wickedness 

"Was  bred  of  flesh  and  innate  with  the  bone 

Borne  by  Fompilia's  spirit  for  a  space, 

And  no  mere  chance  fault,  passionate  and  brief : 

Finally,  when  ye  find,  —  after  this  touch 

Of  man's  protection  which  intends  to  mar 

The  last  pin-point  of  light  and  damn  the  disc,  — 

One  wave  of  the  hand  of  God  amid  the  worlds 

Bid  vapor  vanish,  darkness  flee  away. 

And  let  the  vexed  star  culminate  in  peace 

Approachable  no  more  by  earthly  mist  — 

What  I  call  God's  hand,  —  you,  perhaps,  —  mere  chance 

Of  the  true  instinct  of  an  old  good  man 

Who  happens  to  hate  darkness  and  love  light,  — 

In  whom  too  was  the  eye  that  saw,  not  dim. 

The  natural  force  to  do  the  thing  he  saw. 

Nowise  abated,  —  both  by  miracle,  — 

All  this  well  pondered,  —  I  demand  assent 

To  the  enunciation  of  my  text 

In  face  of  one  proof  more  that '  God  is  true 

And  every  man  a  liar '  —  that  who  trusts 

To  human  testimony  for  a  fact 

Gets  this  sole  fact  —  himself  is  proved  a  fool ; 

Man's  speech  being  false,  if  but  by  consequence 

That  oidy  strength  is  true  !  while  man  is  weak. 

And,  since  truth  seems  reserved  for  heaven  not  earth, 

Plagued  here  by  earth's  prerogative  of  lies. 

Should  learn  to  love  and  long  for  what,  one  day, 

Approved  by  life's  probation,  he  may  speak. 

"  For  me,  the  weary  and  worn,  who  haply  prompt 
To  mirth  or  pity,  as  I  move  the  mood,  — 
A  friar  who  glides  unnoticed  to  the  grave, 


472        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

"With  these  bare  feet,  coarse  robe  and  rope-girt  waist,  — 

I  have  long  since  renounced  your  world,  ye  know  : 

Yet  what  forbids  I  weigh  the  prize  foregone, 

The  worldly  worth  ?     I  dare,  as  I  were  dead, 

Disinterestedly  judge  this  and  that 

Good  ye  account  good  :  but  God  tries  the  heart. 

Still,  if  you  question  me  of  my  content 

At  having  put  each  human  pleasure  by, 

I  answer,  at  the  urgency  of  truth : 

As  this  world  seems,  I  dare  not  say  I  know 

—  Apart  from  Christ's  assurance  which  decides  — 
Whether  I  have  not  failed  to  taste  much  ioy. 

For  many  a  doubt  will  fain  perturb  my  choice  — 

Many  a  dream  of  life  spent  otherwise  — 

How  human  love,  in  varied  shapes,  might  work 

As  glory,  or  as  rapture,  or  as  grace : 

How  conversancy  with  the  books  that  teach. 

The  arts  that  help,  —  how,  to  grow  good  and  great. 

Rather  than  simply  good,  and  bring  thereby 

Goodness  to  breathe  and  live,  nor,  born  i'  the  brain, 

Die  there,  —  how  these  and  many  another  gift 

Of  life  are  precious  though  abjured  by  me. 

But,  for  one  prize,  best  meed  of  mightiest  man. 

Arch-object  of  ambition,  —  earthly  praise, 

Repute  o'  the  world,  the  flourish  of  loud  trump. 

The  softer  social  fluting,  —  Oh,  for  these, 

—  No,  my  friends  !    Fame, — that  bubble  which,  world-wide 
Each  blows  and  bids  his  neighbor  lend  a  breath. 

That  so  he  haply  may  behold  thereon 
One  more  enlarged  distorted  false  fool's-face, 
Until  some  glassy  nothing  grown  as  big 
Send  by  a  touch  the  imperishable  to  suds,^ 
No,  in  renouncing  fame,  my  loss  was  light, 
Choosing  obscurity,  my  chance  was  well !  " 


Didst  ever  touch  such  ampollosity 
As  the  monk's  own  bubble,  let  alone  its  spite  ? 
What  's  his  speech  for,  but  just  the  fame  he  flouts  ? 
How  he  dares  reprehend  both  high  and  low, 
Nor  stoops  to  turn  the  sentence  "  God  is  true 
And  every  man  a  liar  —  save  the  Pope 
Happily  reigning  —  my  respects  to  him !  " 
And  so  round  off  the  period.     Molinism 
Simple  and  pure  !     To  what  pitch  get  we  next  ? 
I  find  that,  for  first  pleasant  consequence. 


THE  BOOK  AND  THE  RING  473 

Gomez,  who  had  intended  to  appeal 
From  the  absurd  decision  of  the  Court, 
Declines,  though  plain  enough  his  privilege, 
To  call  on  help  from  lawyers  any  more  — 
Resolves  earth's  liars  may  possess  the  world, 
Till  God  have  had  sufficiency  of  both : 
So  may  I  whistle  for  my  job  and  fee  ! 

But,  for  this  virulent  and  rabid  monk,  — 

If  law  be  an  inadequate  machine, 

And  advocacy,  frotii  and  impotence, 

We  shall  soon  see,  my  blatant  brother  !     That  'b 

Exactly  what  I  hope  to  show  your  sort .' 

For,  by  a  veritable  piece  of  luck, 

The  providence,  you  monks  round  period  with, 

All  may  be  gloriously  retrieved.     Perpend  ! 

That  Monastery  of  the  Convertites 

Whereto  the  Court  consigned  Pompilia  first, 

—  Observe,  if  convertite,  why,  sinner  then, 
Or  what 's  the  pertinency  of  award  ?  — 
And  whither  she  was  late  returned  to  die, 

—  Still  in  their  jurisdiction,  mark  again  !  — 
That  thrifty  Sisterhood,  for  perquisite. 
Claims  every  piece  whereof  may  die  possessed 
Each  sinner  in  the  circuit  of  its  walls. 
Now,  this  Pompilia  seeing  that,  by  death 

O'  the  couple,  all  their  wealth  devolved  on  her, 

Straight  utilized  the  respite  ere  decease, 

By  regular  conveyance  of  the  goods 

She  thought  her  own,  to  will  and  to  devise,  — 

Gave  all  to  friends,  Tighetti  and  the  like. 

In  trust  for  him  she  held  her  son  and  heir, 

Gaetano,  —  trust  which  ends  with  infancy : 

So  willing  and  devising,  since  assured 

The  justice  of  the  Court  would  presently 

Confirm  her  in  her  rights  and  exculpate, 

Re-integrate  and  rehabilitate  — 

Place  her  as,  through  my  pleading,  now  she  stands. 

But  here  's  the  capital  mistake :  the  Court 

Found  Guido  guilty,  —  but  pronounced  no  word 

About  the  innocency  of  his  wife  : 

I  grounded  charge  on  broader  base,  I  hope ! 

N^  matter  whether  wife  be  true  or  false, 

The  husband  must  not  push  aside  the  law. 

And  punish  of  a  sudden  :  that 's  the  point : 

Gather  from  out  my  speech  the  contrary ! 


474  THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

It  follows  that  Pompilia,  unrelieved 
By  formal  sentence  from  imputed  fault, 
Remains  unfit  to  have  and  to  dispose 
Of  property  which  law  provides  shall  lapse : 
Wherefore  the  Monastery  claims  its  due. 
And  whose,  pray,  whose  the  office,  but  the  Fisc's  ? 
Who  but  I  institute  procedure  next 
Against  the  person  of  dishonest  life, 
Pompilia,  whom  last  week  I  sainted  so  ? 
I  it  is  teach  the  monk  what  scripture  means. 
And  that  the  tongue  should  prove  a  two-edged  sword, 
No  axe  sharp  one  side,  blunt  the  other  way, 
Like  what  amused  the  town  at  Guido's  cost ! 
Astrcea  redux  I    I  've  a  second  chance 
Before  the  selfsame  Court  o'  the  Governor 
Who  soon  shall  see  volte-face  and  chop,  change  sides. 
Accordingly,  I  charge  you  on  your  life. 
Send  me  with  all  dispatch  the  judgment  late 
O'  the  Florence  Rota  Court,  confirmative 
O'  the  prior  judgment  at  Arezzo,  clenched 
Again  by  the  Granducal  signature, 
Wherein  Pompilia  is  convicted,  doomed. 
And  only  destined  to  escape  through  flight 
The  proper  punishment.     Send  me  the  piece,  — 
I  '11  work  it !     And  this  foul-mouthed  friar  shall  find 
His  Noah's-dove  that  brought  the  olive  back 
Turn  into  quite  the  other  sooty  scout, 
The  raven,  Noah  first  put  forth  the  ark, 
Which  never  came  back,  but  ate  carcasses  ! 
No  adequate  machinery  in  law  ? 
No  power  of  life  and  death  i'  the  learned  tongue  ? 
Methinks  I  am  abeady  at  my  speech. 
Startle  the  world  with  "  Thou,  Pompilia,  thus  ? 
How  is  the  fine  gold  of  the  Temple  dim  !  " 
And  so  forth.     But  the  courier  bids  me  close, 
And  clip  away  one  joke  that  runs  through  Rome, 
Side  by  side  with  the  sermon  which  I  send. 
How  like  the  heartlessness  of  the  old  hunks 
Arcangeh  !     His  Count  is  hardly  cold. 
The  client  whom  his  blunders  sacrificed. 
When  somebody  must  needs  describe  the  scene  — 
How  the  procession  ended  at  the  church 
That  boasts  the  famous  relic  :   quoth  our  brute, 
"  Why,  that 's  just  Martial's  phrase  for  '  make  an  end  '  - 
Ad  umbilicum  sio  perventum  est  /  " 
The  callous  dog,  —  let  who  will  cut  off  head, 


THE  BOOK  AND   THE  RING  475 

He  cuts  a  joke,  and  cares  no  more  than  so  ! 
I  think  my  speech  shall  modify  his  mirth : 
"  How  is  the  fine  gold  dim  !  "  —  but  send  the  piece ! 


Alack,  Bottini,  what  is  my  next  word 
But  death  to  all  that  hope  ?     The  Instrument 
Is  plain  before  me,  print  that  ends  my  Book 
With  the  definitive  verdict  of  the  Court, 
Dated  September,  six  months  afterward, 
(Such  trouble  and  so  long  the  old  Pope  gave !) 
"  In  restitution  of  the  perfect  fame 
Of  dead  PompUia,  quondam  Guido'  s  wife, 
And  warrant  to  her  representative 
Domenico  Tighetti,  barred  hereby. 
While  doing  duty  in  his  guardianship. 
From  aU  molesting,  all  disquietude, 
Each  perturbation  and  vexation  brought 
Or  threatened  to  be  brought  against  the  heir 
By  the  Most  Venerable  Convent  called 
Saint  Mary  Magdalen  o'  the  Convertites 
r  the  Corso." 

Justice  done  a  second  time ! 
Well  judged.  Marc  Antony,  Locum-tenens 
O'  the  Governor,  a  Venturini  too  ! 
For  which  I  save  thy  name,  —  last  of  the  list ! 

Next  year  but  one,  completing  his  nine  years 

Of  rule  in  Rome,  died  Innocent  my  Pope 

—  By  some  account,  on  his  accession-day. 

If  he  thought  doubt  would  do  the  next  age  good, 

'T  is  pity  he  died  unapprised  what  birth 

His  reign  may  boast  of,  be  remembered  by  — 

Terrible  Pope,  too,  of  a  kind,  —  Voltaire. 

And  so  an  end  of  all  i'  the  story.     Strain 
Never  so  much  my  eyes,  I  miss  the  mark 
If  lived  or  died  that  Gaetano,  child 
Of  Guido  and  PompUia  :  only  find. 
Immediately  upon  his  father's  death, 
A  record,  in  the  annals  of  the  town  — 
That  Porzia,  sister  of  our  Guido,  moved 
The  Priors  of  Arezzo  and  their  head 
Its  Gonfalonier  to  give  loyally 
A  public  attestation  of  the  right 
O'  the  Franceschini  to  all  reverence  —  ' 


476        THE  RING  AND   THE  BOOK 

Apparently  because  of  the  incident 
O'  the  murder,  —  there  's  no  mention  made  o'  the  crime, 
But  what  else  could  have  caused  such  urgency 
To  cure  the  mob,  just  then,  of  greediness 
For  scandal,  love  of  lying  vanity, 
And  appetite  to  swallow  crude  reports 
That  bring  annoyance  to  their  betters  ?  —  bane 
Which,  here,  was  promptly  met  by  antidote. 
I  like  and  shall  translate  the  eloquence 
Of  nearly  the  worst  Latin  ever  writ : 
"  Since  antique  time  whereof  the  memory 
Holds  the  beginning,  to  this  present  hour, 
The  Franceschini  ever  shone,  and  shine 
Still  i'  the  primary  rank,  supreme  amid 
The  lustres  of  Arezzo,  proud  to  own 
In  this  great  family,  the  flag-bearer. 
Guide  of  her  steps  and  guardian  against  foe,  — 
As  in  the  first  beginning,  so  to-day !  " 
There,  would  you  disbelieve  the  annalist, 
Go  rather  by  the  babble  of  a  bard  ? 
I  thought,  Arezzo,  thou  hadst  fitter  souls, 
Petrarch,  —  nay,  Buonarroti  at  a  pinch. 
To  do  thee  credit  as  vexUlifer  ! 
"Was  it  mere  mirth  the  Patavinian  meant, 
Making  thee  out,  in  his  veracious  page. 
Founded  by  Janus  of  the  Double  Face  ? 

Well,  proving  of  such  perfect  parentage. 

Our  Gaetano,  born  of  love  and  hate. 

Did  the  babe  live  or  die  ?      I  fain  would  find  ! 

What  were  his  fancies  if  he  grew  a  man  ? 

Was  he  proud,  —  a  true  scion  of  the  stock 

Which  bore  the  blazon,  shall  make  bright  my  page  — ■ 

Shield,  Azure,  on  a  Triple  Mountain,  Or, 

A  Palm-tree,  Proper,  whereunto  is  tied 

A  Grayhound,  Bampant,  striving  in  the  slips  ? 

Or  did  he  love  his  mother,  the  base-born. 

And  fight  i'  the  ranks,  imnoticed  by  the  world  ? 

Such,  then,  the  final  state  o'  the  story.     So 
Did  the  Star  Wormwood  in  a  blazing  fall 
Frighten  awhile  the  waters  and  lie  lost. 
So  did  this  old  woe  fade  from  memory : 
Till  after,  in  the  fulness  of  the  days, 
I  needs  must  find  an  ember  yet  unquenched. 
And,  breathing,  blow  the  spark  to  flame.     It  lives. 
If  precious  be  the  soul  of  man  to  man. 


THE  BOOK  AND  THE  RING  477 

So,  British  Public,  who  may  like  me  yet, 
(Marry  and  amen !)  learn  one  lesson  hence 
Of  many  which  whatever  lives  should  teach : 
This  lesson,  that  our  human  speech  is  nought. 
Our  human  testimony  false,  our  fame 
And  human  estimation  words  and  wind. 
Why  take  the  artistic  way  to  prove  so  much  ? 
Because,  it  is  the  glory  and  good  of  Art, 
That  Art  remains  the  one  way  possible 
Of  speaking  truth,  to  mouths  like  mine  at  least. 
How  look  a  brother  in  the  face  and  say, 
'  Thy  right  is  wrong,  eyes  hast  thou  yet  art  blind ; 
Thine  ears  are  stuffed  and  stopped,  despite  their  length ! 
And,  oh,  the  foolishness  thou  countest  faith  !  " 
Say  this  as  silverly  as  tongue  can  troU  — 
The  anger  of  the  man  may  be  endured. 
The  shrug,  the  disappointed  eyes  of  him 
Are  not  so  bad  to  bear  —  but  here  's  the  plague 
That  all  this  trouble  comes  of  telling  truth, 
"Which  truth,  by  when  it  reaches  him,  looks  false, 
Seems  to  be  just  the  thing  it  would  supplant, 
Nor  recognizable  by  whom  it  left : 
While  falsehood  would  have  done  the  work  of  truth. 
But  Art,  —  wherein  man  nowise  speaks  to  men, 
Only  to  mankind,  —  Art  may  tell  a  truth 
Obliquely,  do  the  thing  shall  breed  the  thought. 
Nor  wrong  the  thought,  missing  the  mediate  word. 
So  may  you  paint  your  picture,  twice  show  truth, 
Beyond  mere  imagery  on  the  wall,  — 
So,  note  by  note,  bring  music  from  your  mind, 
Deeper  than  ever  e'en  Beethoven  dived,  — 
So  write  a  book  shall  mean  beyond  the  facts, 
Suffice  the  eye  and  save  the  soul  beside. 

And  save  the  soul !     If  this  intent  save  mine,  — 
If  the  rough  ore  be  rounded  to  a  ring, 
Render  all  duty  which  good  ring  should  do, 
And,  failing  grace,  succeed. in  guardianship, — 
Might  mine  but  lie  outside  thine,  Lyric  Love, 
Thy  rare  gold  ring  of  verse  (the  poet  praised) 
Linking  our  England  to  his  Italy ! 


NOTES. 

The  number  of  the  page  is  given,  followed  immediately  by  the  number  of 
the  line  on  the  page.  The  word  or  passage  which  is  interpreted  is  given  in 
italics.  All  the  passages  on  a  page  are  put  into  one  paragraph,  but  in  case 
there  is  more  than  one  the  page  number  is  not  repeated  and  the  number  of  the 
line  is  put  in  parenthesis. 

1 : 1,  Ring  ;  such  a  ring  was  worn  by  Mrs.  Browning;  after  her  death 
Browning  carried  it  on  his  watch-chain,  and  it  is  now  in  possession  of 
their  son.  (2)  Castellani's  imitative  craft  was  that  of  Fortunate  Piso 
Castellani,  who  in  1826  established  himself  as  a  jeweler  in  Kome,  and 
executed  imitations  of  Etruscan,  Greek,  and  Byzantine  work.  In  his 
Roba  di  Roma,  W.  W.  Story  speaks  of  his  "  admirable  reproductions 
of  jewelry  in  the  Etruscan  and  early  Christian  style,  which  have  won 
for  him  so  just  a  celebrity,  and  who  exercises  his  profession  in  the 
true  spirit  of  an  antiquary  and  an  artist."  (6)  Chiusi,  ancient  Clu- 
sium  of  Lars  Forsenna,  capital  of  Etruria.  Near  the  modern  city, 
after  heavy  rains,  are  found  specimens  of  Etruscan  jewelry  in  the 
Campo  degli  Orefici,  Jewelers'  Field.  (22)  repristination,  restoring 
pristine  character.     (27)  rondure,  French  rond  =  round,  a  circle. 

2 :  13,  Baccio's  marble,  by  Baccio  Bandinelli,  a  Florentine  sculptor, 
1497-1559.  It  is  a  statue  of  Giovanni  delle  Baude  Nere,  John  of  the 
Black  Bands,  father  of  Cosimo  I.,  in  one  corner  of  the  Borgo  di  San 
Lorenzo.  Hare  says  that,  "  like  most  of  the  works  of  this  conceited 
but  indifferent  master,  it  has  been  much  ridiculed."  (26)  breccia, 
small  pieces  of  stone  from  broken  walls.  (33)  scagliola,  marble  or 
stone  flooring.  (34)  crazie,  somewhat  less  than  two  cents.  (37)  the 
imaginative  Sienese,  see  line  24  on  page  9.  (40)  Lionard,  Liouardo 
da  Vinci,  whose  picture  called  Joconde  is  in  the  Louvre  gallery,  a 
portrait  of  Mona  Lisa  Gioconda.  (45)  Spicilegium,  a  book  of  selec- 
tions from  the  best  authors.  (46)  Frail  one  of  the  Flower,  La  Dame 
aux  Camelias. 

3: 25,festas,  feast  days.  (4:  45)  Fisc,  Public  Prosecutor  or  Counsel 
for  the  Treasury. 

6: 10,  Solon,  as  described  by  Plutarch,  made  very  absurd  laws 
about  women,  sometimes  making  the  penalty  of  adultery  death,  in 
other  cases  heavy  fines,  and  in  others  small  fines.  (11)  Romulus, 
according  to  Plutarch,  would  not  permit  a  wife  to  leave  her  husband, 
but  allowed  him  to  put  her  away  for  adultery  and  for  counterfeiting 
his  keys;  Justinian,  Emperor,  whose  Code  summarized  all  Roman 
law.  (12)  Baldo,  professor  of  civil  and  canon  law,  born  1327  ;  Bar- 
iolo,  jurist,  1313-1356,  assisted  Charles  V.  in  codifying  laws  of  Holy 
Roman  Empire.  (14)  Cornelia  de  Sicariis,  Pompeia  de  Parriddiis, 
laws  of  the  early  Roman  Emperors  relating  to  marriage  and  adultery. 


480  NOTES 

(18)  Dolabella,  see  page  299,  line  35.  (19)  Theodoric,  in  his  Varim 
EpistolcE,  written  for  him  hy  Cassiodorus,  says  that  brutes  defend 
their  conjugal  rights  by  force,  and  that  man  is  much  more  likely  to 
do  so  because  he  feels  more  strongly  the  dishonor.  (20)  ^tian,  in- 
stance contained  in  his  De  Animalium  Natura,  xi.  15. 

7: 1,  presbyter,  primes  tonsurce,  suhdiaconus,  sacerdos,  presbyter,  first 
tonsure,  subdeacon,  priest,  successive  orders  in  Komau  church;  the 
first  two,  being  those  of  first  tonsure  and  subdeacon,  are  given  to  lay- 
men, who  can  marry,  and  entitle  them  to  appeal  to  the  pope.  (27) 
Ghetto,  Jews'  quarter  in  a  city  of  the  Middle  Ages.  (43)  Innocent) 
The  chief  historical  character  in  this  poem  is  Innocent  XII.,  who  was 
pope  from  1691  to  his  death,  in  September,  1700.  Antonio  Pignatelli 
was  born  at  Naples  in  1615,  and  was  educated  at  the  Jesuit  College 
in  Rome.  At  the  age  of  twenty  he  entered  the  papal  service,  and 
rose  step  by  step  until  he  was  a  cardinal  in  1681 ;  and  he  was  also  the 
archbishop  of  Naples.  When  he  became  pope  he  opposed  nepotism 
and  simony,  and  he  ruled  with  moderation  and  justice.  He  built  the 
harbor  of  Prato  d'  Anzo  on  the  ruins  of  ancient  Antium,  constructed 
an  aqueduct  for  Civita  Vecchia,  and  built  the  palace  of  Monte  Citario 
for  the  courts  of  justice  in  Rome.  He  also  erected  many  other  build- 
ings, including  schools,  asylums,  and  the  penitentiary  of  San  Michele. 
He  made  a  law  that  no  pope  or  cardinal  should  ever  indulge  in  nepo- 
tism ;  but  his  main  political  act  was  that  connected  with  a  quarrel  of 
the  popes  with  Louis  XIV.  and  the  French  church.  Louis  claimed 
the  independence  of  the  French  church,  and  that  he  was  its  head, 
practically.  To  this  assertion  Innocent  was  strongly  opposed,  and 
the  quarrel  lasted  throughout  his  reign.  The  Encylopcedia  Britannica, 
ifi  its  article  on  Innocent  XI.,  says  he  is  the  Pope  of  Browning's 
poem ;  but  in  this  it  is  in  error,  for  the  poem  distinctly  calls  the  Pope 
by  his  name,  "  Antonio  Pignatelli  of  Naples."  Some  reference  is 
made  to  Innocent  XI. ,  however,  and  especially  in  connection  with  the 
Molinists.  Benedetto  Odescalchi  was  born  at  Conio  in  1611,  became 
a  cardinal  in  1647,  and  was  elected  pope  in  September,  1676.  He 
had  courage  and  firmness,  but  he  was  austere  and  obstinate.  He  re- 
duced ecclesiastical  abuses,  and  broke  up  nepotism.  He  was  opposed 
by  the  Jesuits,  but  was  very  popular.  Under  him  began  the  quarrel 
with  Louis  XIV.  He  claimed  the  revenues  of  vacant  ecclesiastical 
offices  in  France,  which  Louis  desired  for  himself.  The  quarrel  was 
also  waged  with  reference  to  the  right  of  asylum  of  the  foreign  am- 
bassadors in  Rome,  a  right  which  Innocent  refused  to  liave  continued. 
An  account  of  this  quarrel  of  diplomatists  is  to  be  found  in  the  third 
volume  of  Ranke's  Ecclesiastical  and  Political  History  of  the  Popes 
of  Rome.  Ranke  says  that  "  Innocent  XL,  of  the  house  of  Odescalchi 
of  Como,  came  to  Rome  in  his  twenty-fifth  year,  with  no  other  for- 
tune than  his  sword  and  pistols,  to  seek  some  secular  employment 
there,  or  perhaps  to  take  service  in  the  Neapolitan  army.  The  advice 
of  a  cardinal,  who  saw  more  deeply  into  his  character  than  he  did 
himself,  induced  him  to  enter  upon  the  career  of  the  curia.  This  he 
did  with  so  much  zeal  and  earnestness,  and  gradually  secured  such  a 
reputation  for  ability  and  good  intentions,  that  while  the  conclave 
was  sitting  the  people  shouted  his  name  under  the  porticoes  of  St. 
Peter's,  and  there  was  a,  general  feeling  of  satisfaction  when  his 


NOTES  481 

election  was  declaied.  He  was  a  man  of  such  mildness  and  humility 
of  manner  that  when  he  called  for  any  of  his  servants,  it  was  with 
the  reservation,  '  if  it  was  convenient  to  them ; '  of  such  purity  of 
heart  and  life  that  his  confessor  declared  that  he  never  discovered 
in  him  anything  which  could  sever  the  soul  from  God;  meek  and 
gentle,  hut  impelled  hy  the  same  conscientiousness  which  governed 
his  private  life  to  fulfill  the  duties  of  his  ofdce  with  inflexible  integ- 
rity." This  account  of  Innocent  XI.  agrees  much  better  with  the 
character  attributed  by  Browning  to  his  Fope  than  anything  which  is 
told  of  Innocent  XII.  It  seems  that  the  poet  confounded  the  two 
men  with  each  other,  or,  what  is  more  probable,  that  he  deliberately 
gave  to  Innocent  XII.  qualities  which  belonged  only  to  Innocent  XI. 

8 :  7,  Jansenists,  re-nicknamed  Molinists  ;  Jansen  was  a  Hollander, 
1585-1638,  who  revived  the  spirit  of  the  theology  of  St.  Augustine. 
His  teachings  passed  into  France,  and  there  gained  the  name  of  Jan- 
senism about  the  middle  of  the  sixteenth  century.  This  was  a  liberal 
movement  within  the  Catholic  Church,  based  on  the  same  spiritual 
principles  as  Protestantism,  and  for  that  reason  opposed  by  the  Jesuits, 
and  flially  condemned  by  the  Church.  The  Jansenist  movement 
found  its  noblest  expression  in  Port  Royal,  the  Arnaulds,  Fdnelon, 
and  the  Provincial  Letters  of  Pascal.  The  Jansenist  teachings  were 
revived  by  Michel  or  Miguel  de  Molinos,  1627-1696,  a  Spaniard,  who 
published  in  1675  his  II  Guida  Spirituale,  The  Spiritual  Guide.  This 
book  became  very  popular  and  was  translated  into  many  languages, 
appearing  in  English  in  1699.  Molinos  had  a  genius  for  religious  in- 
struction, and  the  ability  to  make  spiritual  things  real  to  those  he 
influenced.  His  doctrine  is  often  described  as  Quietism,  and  it  is 
simply  mysticism,  or  the  belief  that  God  communicates  himself  di- 
rectly to  the  human  soul.  Molinos  won  many  followers  in  Rome, 
among  them  Christine  of  Sweden  and  Innocent  XI.  The  Roman 
church,  however,  has  never  been  friendly  to  mysticism ;  Molinos  was 
brought  to  trial.  Innocent  was  driven  to  condemn  him,  but  greatly 
against  his  will,  and  he  was  sentenced  to  perpetual  silence.  (19) 
Nepotism,  Latin,  neposr=  nephew,  custom  of  popes  of  bestowing  posi- 
tions and  salaries  on  their  sons,  who  were  called  their  nephews  for 
diplomatic  reasons.     (24)  carlines,  coin  worth  four  cents. 

9: 14,  obelisk,  brought  from  Egypt  by  Augustus  and  set  up  in  Cir- 
cus Maximus,  but,  having  fallen,  was  removed  to  Piazza  del  Popolo 
in  1589  by  Sixtus  Y.  (38)  Canon,  member  of  order  in  Roman  Church 
between  monks  and  secular  clergy,  instituted  in  eighth  century. 
Canons  live  and  eat  together,  have  stated  prayers,  but  do  not  take 
vows.  In  eleventh  century  they  were  divided  into  regular  and  secu- 
lar, the  first  becoming  much  like  monks  in  renouncing  private 
property. 

10:  41,  Diario,  daily  newspaper. 

11:  9,  Manning,  Newman,  Wiseman,  English  leaders  in  the  Catholic 
Church,  cardinals  and  archbishops.  (23)  lingot,  French,  same  as 
ingot,  a  small  mass  of  metal,  here  used  for  the  solid  mass  of  truth. 
(31)  djereed,  Arab  spear. 

12:  9,  gold  snow  ;  Jove  covered  island  of  Rhodes  with  golden  cloud 
because  the  people  first  offered  sacrifices  to  Minerva.  (14)  datura, 
stramonium,  thorn-apple. 


482  NOTES 

16: 11,  abacus,  upper  part  of  capital  of  pillar  upon  which  architrave 
rests.     (37)  malleolable,  from  Latin  malleolus,  little  hammer. 

20:  25,  JEacus,  judge  of  underworld  with  Minos  and  Khadaman- 
thus,  here  used  as  type  of  judicial  fairness. 

21 :  8,  market-place  of  the  Barberini  ;  "  Whoever  has  been  in  Rome," 
says  Christian  Andersen,  "  is  well  acquainted  with  the  Piazza  Bar- 
berini, in  the  great  square,  with  the  beautiful  fountain  where  the 
Tritons  empty  the  spouting  conch-shell,  from  which  the  water  springs 
upward  many  feet."  (11)  Bernini's  creature  ;  Giovanni  Lorenzo  Ber- 
nini was  born  in  Naples  in  1598,  went  to  Rome  early,  worked  for 
the  popes  and  cardinals  as  an  architect  and  sculptor,  spent  some 
time  in  Paris,  and  died  in  1680.  He  built  the  palace  of  the  Bar- 
berini, and  the  fountain  in  front  of  it.  (28)  tertium  quid,  a  third  some- 
thing. 

22:  2,  girandole,  a  dance.  (23:  2)  Vigil-torture,  to  keep  a  condemned 
man  from  sleep,  invented  by  Marsiliis,  jurist  of  Bologna,  and  called 
by  him  cordis  dolorem. 

26:40,  levigate,  to  make  light. 

28:  7,  rondo,  a  form  of  iambic  verse  of  thirteen  lines  and  two 
rhymes,  with  three  stanzas.  (^)  from  old  Corelli  to  young  Haendel ; 
Arcangelo  Corelli,  1653-1713,  was  a  great  violinist  and  composer. 
He  lived  in  Rome,  where  he  gained  a  great  reputation  as  a  performer. 
Herr  Paul  David  says  of  his  relations  to  Handel:  "  Handel  conducted 
some  of  his  own  cantatas,  which  were  written  in  a  more  complicated 
style  than  the  music  with  which  Corelli  and  the  Italian  musicians  of 
that  period  were  familiar.  Handel  tried  in  vain  to  explain  to  Corelli, 
who  was  leading  the  band,  how  a  certain  passage  ought  to  be  exe- 
cuted, and  at  last,  losing  his  temper,  snatched  the  violin  from  Corelli's 
hands  and  played  it  himself,  whereupon  Corelli  remarked  in  the 
politest  manner,  '  But,  my  dear  Saxon,  this  music  is  in  the  French 
style,  of  which  I  have  no  experience.'  He  had  a  European  reputa- 
tion and  wrote  much."  (34)  lathen,  brass  or  bronze  work  used  in 
Middle  Ages  for  crosses  and  candlesticks. 

29:  28,  rivelled,  shrank  up.  (33)  New  Prison,  built  by  Innocent 
.XI. 

30: 15,  Brotherhood  of  Death,  Confraternity  of  the  Miserieordia  or 
Brothers  of  Mercy,  who  attend  funerals  as  an  act  of  charity  and  pre- 
pare criminals  for  death.     (32)  Mannaia,  guillotine. 

32:6,  O  lyric  Love ;  addressed  to  Mrs.  Browning.  First  ten  lines 
form  a  vocative  with  "  O  lyric  Love."  Lines  seven  to  ten  are  adverb 
to  human;  fifteen  to  twenty-one,  adverb  to  commerce;  twenty-three 
to  twenty-five,  adverb  to  raising ;  twenty-six,  adverb  to  raising  •  last 
two  lines,  objects  of  blessing.  The  grammatical  construction  is  fully 
given  in  Brouming  Guide-Book.  Browning  wrote  Mrs.  Orr  as  follows 
on  some  of  his  grammatical  usages:  "  I  make  use  of  '  wast '  for  the 
second  person  of  the  perfect  indicative,  and  '  wert '  for  the  present 
potential,  simply  to  be  understood;  as  I  should  hardly  be  if  I  sub- 
stituted the  latter  for  the  former,  and  therewith  ended  my  phrase. 
'Where  wert  thou,  brother,  those  three  days,  had  He  not  raised 
thee  ? '  means  one  thing,  and  '  Where  wast  thou  when  He  did  so  ? ' 
means  another.  That  there  is  precedent  in  plenty  for  this  and  many 
similar  locations  ambiguous,  or  archaic,  or  vicious,  I  am  weU  aware, 


NOTES  483 

and  that,  on  their  authority,  I  be  wrong,  the  illustrious  poet  he  right, 
and  you,  our  critic,  was  and  shall  continue  to  be  my  instructor  as  to 
'everything  that  pretty  bin.'  As  regards  my  objections  to  the 
slovenly  '  I  had  '  for  '  I  'd,'  instead  of  the  proper  '  I  would,'  I  shall 
not  venture  to  supplement  what  Landor  has  magisterially  spoken  on 
the  subject.  An  adverb  adds  to,  and  does  not  by  its  omission  altei 
into  nonsense,  the  verb  it  qualifies.  '  I  would  rather  speak  than  be 
silent,  better  criticise  than  learn,'  are  forms  structurally  regular: 
what  meaning  is  in  'I  had  speak,'  '  had  criticise '  ?  Then,  I  am 
blamed  for  preferring  the  indicative  to  what  1  suppose  may  be  the 
potential  mood  in  the  case  of  'need'  and  'dare,' — just  that  unlucky 
couple ;  by  all  means  go  on  and  say  '  He  need  help,  he  dare  me  to 
fight,'  and  so  pair  ofB  with  '  He  need  not  beg,  he  dare  not  reply,' 
forms  which  may  be  expected  to  pullulate  in  this  morning's  pa- 
per." 

'  33: 6,  Lorenzo  in  Lucina,  church  of  Pompilia,  in  small  square  of  San 
Lorenzo,  founded  in  fifth  century  and  rebuilt  in  1606  by  Paul  V. 
(8)  Corso,  principal  street  of  Rome,  a  mile  long,  with  many  palaces 
and  shops. 

35 : 2,  Guido  Reni,  painter  of  Bolognese  school,  1574r-1642 ;  his  pic- 
tiire  shows  crucifixion  with  background  of  stormy  sky.  (33)  as  the 
ancient  sings,  Horace,  Satires,  i.  7,  3. 

37:8,  Cardinal,  who  book-made;  Cardinal  d'Estrees,  who  repre- 
sented Louis  XIV.  at  Papal  court,  was  much  in  sympathy  with 
Molinos,  put  him  in  correspondence  with  important  people  in  France, 
and  wrote  iu  exposition  of  his  views.  (17)  Ruspoli,  palace  on  the 
Corso.     (21)  handsel,  first  gift.     (23)  galliard,  active. 

39:36,  dab-chick,  small  grebe,  genus  of  diving  birds;  swims  grace- 
fully, but  awkward  on  land.  (42)  tacked  to  Church's  tail  refers  to 
Guide's  belonging  to  one  of  the  first  or  secular  orders  in  the  succes- 
sion to  the  priesthood. 

42:  39,  Quoth  Solomon,  Solomon's  Song  iv.  9. 
43:  8,  Plutus,  God  of  Wealth.    (40)  verjuice,  acid  liquid  made  from 
crab-apples  or  unripe  grapes. 

44:  9,  doited,  dotage,  from  doit,  very  small  Dutch  or  Scotch  coin, 
therefore  meaning  of  small  value.  (11)  novercal,  pertaining  to  step- 
mother, from  Latin  noverca,  stepmother.  (34)  cater-cousin,  withir. 
four  degrees;  sib,  kinship. 

45:11,  Jubilee,  held  once  in  twenty-five  years. 
46: 12,  principal  of  the  usufruct,  the  amount  of  his  life-tenure. 
61 :  30,  Mum  and  budget,  Shakespeare,  Merry   Wives  of  Windsor, 
V.  ii.  7. 

54: 39,  Osteria,  tavern  or  inn. 
66:26,  sbirri,  papal  police. 

68;  20,  repugns,  opposes.     (34)  fardel,  bundle  or  package. 
69:6,  apage,  away  with  thee.     (45)   Convertites,  order  of  nuns  de- 
voted to  rescue  of  fallen  women,  membership  being  drawn  from  this 
class. 

60: 22,  Ovid,  a  like  sufferer,  who  was  banished  to  Tomis  on  Euxine 
by  Augustus,  for  an  amour.  (45)  Pontifex  Maximus  whipped  Vestals, 
if  they  permitted  sacred  fire  to  go  out. 

61: 7,firk,  beat  or  punish.     (26)  Canidian  hate  ;  Horace  loved  and 


484  NOTES 

praised  CanidJa  in  his  poems,  but  when  she  deserted  him  he  called  her 
a  witch.  .J 

63:8,  Domus  pro  carcere,  a  house  for  a  prison.  (43)  the  hoard  i  the 
heart  o'  the  toad,  see  As  You  Like  It,  II.  i.  15. 

66: 10,  Astroea,  virgin-goddess  of  justice,  daughter  of  Zeus  and 
Themis.  (21)  male-Grissel,  Griselda  is  type  of  female  patience  in 
Chaucer's  Clerk  of  Oxenford's  tale.  (29)  Rolando-stroke  ;  made  by 
sword  Durandal  in  hands  of  Kolaud,  in  saga  about  that  hero.  (30) 
clavicle,  collar-bone. 

69:1,  Saint  Anna's,  monastery  in  Kome,  where  Vittoria  Colonna 
awaited  her  death.  (23)  Carlo  Maratta,  celebrated  Roman  painter, 
1625-1713,  called  Carlo  delle  Madonne,  because  of  many  pictures  of 
Virgin  painted  by  him. 

70:  14,  Philosophic  Sin ;  Molinos  held  that  pride  and  striving  for 
the  assertion  of  self  constitute  the  chief  sin.  (36)  yon  Triton's  trump  ; 
speaker  is  in  Piazza  Barberini,  looking  at  Bernini's  fountain  in  form 
of  a  Triton. 

73: 19,  Eden  tree,  the  poet's  own  picture  of  the  expulsion  from 
Eden. 

75:34,  lured  as  larks ;  a  trap  is  used  for  catching  larks  that  at- 
tracts them  by  pieces  of  glass  fixed  in  the  sun. 

76:8,  rutilant,  shining.  (33)  the  Hesperian  ball,  golden  apple  Her- 
cules brought  from  garden  of  Hesperides.  (40)  the  Square  of  Spain, 
Piazza  di  Spagiia,  into  which  runs  the  Via  del  Babbuiuo  ;  and  the 
Foutana  della  Baroaccia,  Boat-fountain,  is  in  it. 

77:  6,  cross,  money,  from  cross  being  stamped  on  it  formerly  ;  poke, 
pocket.  (8)  imposthume,  abscess  or  collection  of  purulent  matter. 
(44)  Danae;  in  shower  of  gold  Zeus  introduced  himself  into  room 
of  Danae,  and  Perseus  was  born. 

78:38,  hinge;  Cardinal  is  from  carrfo, hinge ;  so  called,  says  Trench, 
"  as  undoubtedly  adhering  more  nearly  to  that  hinge  by  which  all 
things  are  moved." 

79:30,  orts,  scraps.  (34)  quag,  bog  or  quagmire. 
80: 27,  Holy  Year  ;  instituted  by  Boniface  VIII.,  who  became  pope 
in  1294,  and  is  a  time  of  special  iudulgences.  (39)  great  door ;  in 
the  holy  or  jubilee  year,  the  pope  goes  in  solemn  procession  to  the 
Porta  Aurea,  or  golden  door  of  St.  Peter's,  knocks  three  times,  and 
calls  out  in  words  of  Psalm  cxviii.  19,  "  Open  to  me  the  gates  of 
righteousness."  The  doors  are  opened,  he  sprinkles  them  with  holy 
water,  and  passes  through.  At  the  close  of  the  jubilee  they  are  walled 
np  until  the  next  Holy  Year  arrives.  (44)  Penitentiary,  an  ecclesias- 
tical officer  who  deals  with  special  cases  of  confession ;  when  connected 
with  a  cathedral,  can  absolve  from  sin. 
85:40,  tenebrific,  causing  darkness. 

86 :  45,  charactery,  process  of  expression  by  means  of  characters. 
97:41,  the  purple,  color  worn  by  Cardinals. 

99 :  33,  Civita,  Civita  Vecchia,  the  seaport  of  Rome,  near  mouth  of 
Tiber. 

100:  21,  Hundred  Merry  Tales;  a  collection  by  this  name  was  pub- 
lished in  England,  in  1526,  by  John  Rastell ;  bat  undoubtedly  Brown- 
ing had  in  mind  the  Decameron  of  Boccaccio,  or  more  probably  the 
povels  of  Franco  Sacehetti.     (25)   Vulcan's  part,  Odyssey,  viii.  266. 


NOTES  485 

Vulcan  or  Hephsestus  is  deceived  by  Aphrodite  and  Ares  as  de- 
scribed. 

106:31,  Trecentos  inseris,  etc.,  Horace,  Satires,  i.  6.  12,  Ho,  tliere! 
that  is  enough  now,  you  are  stowing  in  hundreds. 

107:  6,  Eusebius,  one  of  the  early  historians  of  Christianity,  265-338. 
(18)  basset,  fashionable  game  of  seventeenth  century.  (19)  Her 
Eminence,  poet  follows  an  Italian  idiom. 

108:  7,  mudlarks,  rag-pickers  and  sewer-cleaners. 

109: 10,  Fidei  commissum,  tenure  of  the  trust.  Browning  translates. 
Hereafter  no  translation  will  be  made  where  the  poet  gives  the  mean- 
ing in  his  own  free  rendering.  (22)  missal,  mass-book  or  prayer- 
book  of  the  Roman  Church,  but  is  used  in  morning  and  not  at 
vespers. 

110: 13,  pauls,  old  Italian  coins  worth  about  ten  cents.  (24)  Mag- 
nificat, song  of  Virgin  Mary,  Luke  i.  46,  sung  at  vespers.  (32)  pin- 
ners, head-dress,  with  long  flaps  or  narrow  piece  of  cloth  about  the 
neck;  coif,  cap.     (35)  Oroieto,  wine  from  that  place. 

113 :  34,  Nunc  dimittis,  Luke  ii.  22,  in  Latin  version  as  sung  in 
Koman  churches.     (37)  cits,  citizens. 

115:43,  Notum  tonsoribus,  known  to  the  barbers;  Tonsor,  barber. 

116: 10,  zecchines,  sequins,  Venetian  coins  worth  $2.25.  (19)  po- 
mander, perfumed  ball  carried  in  pocket  or  about  the  neck  to  reuiove 
imperfections  of  skin.  (22)  pantoufle,  slipper.  (32)  Her  Ejficadty, 
another  instance  of  use  of  Italian  idiom. 

122:  26,  devil's-dung,  assafcetida. 

123;  11,  cross-buttock,  blow  across  the  back;  quarter-staff,  stout  stafE 
or  pole  used  in  defence  or  attack. 

124:  39,  Uzzah,  2  Samuel  vi.  6,  7. 

126: 1,  Lucretia,  who  was  at  home  spinning  when  other  Koman 
women  were  dancing;  Susanna,  condemned  to  death  but  proved  inno- 
cent by  Daniel,  in  O.  T.  Apocrypha.  (3)  Leda,  Correggio's  picture 
of  Leda  and  the  Swan,  in  Berlin  Museum. 

129:32,  Cui  profuerint,  whom  they  might  profit. 

130:  3,  acquetta.  Aqua  Tofana,  a  slow,  liquid  poison  much  used  in 
seventeenth  century  by  women  who  wished  to  get  rid  of  their  hus- 
bands or  rivals. 

131 :  31,  Paphos,  in  Cyprus,  chief  place  of  worship  of  Aphrodite. 

133:  32,  Saint  Rose,  who  rejected  suit  of  Hamnel,  accused  by  him 
and  condemned  to  bum,  but  flames  burned  Hamuel  instead,  and  the 
stake  bloomed  with  red  and  white  roses;  known  as  virgin  mart3'r  of 
Bethlehem.  (33)  Olimpia,  sister-in-law,  also  niece,  of  Innocent  X., 
bore  this  name,  and  were  both  noted  for  voluptuousness. 

134:33,  Place  Navona ;  Piazza  Navona  is  a  vast  oblong  square, 
containing  three  fountains. 

135: 17,  Rota,  a  superior  Papal  court. 

141 :  15,  fons  et  origo  malorum,  the  fountain  and  origin  of  evils. 

145:  2,  headed,  beheaded.     (36)  omoplat,  shoulder-blade. 

146:8,  whealed,  marked  by  strokes.  (22)  Francis,  St.  Francis  of 
Assisi,  founder  of  Franciscans,  1182-1226.  (26)  Dominic,  St.  Domi- 
nic, founder  of  Dominicans,  1170-1221.  (31)  Homager,  one  who 
holds  lands  subject  to  homage  under  feudalism. 

147:  35,  suum  cuique,  let  each  have  his  own. 


486  NOTES 

148: 9,  porporate,  wearing  purple,  color  of  cardinals. 

149:22,  utrique  sic  paratus,  So  prepared  either  way.  (41)  term,  the 
figure  of  Terminus,  god  of  boundaries. 

150:5,  Sylla,  Marius,  generals  of  Roman  Republic.  (6)  hexastich, 
stanza  of  six  lines.  (10)  purfled,  decorated.  (14)  tittup,  frisky 
prance  or  canter.  (17)  Tordinona,  Tower  of  Nona,  prison,  destroyed 
in  1690.  The  prisons  built  by  Innocent  X.  were  first  in  Europe  to 
have  cells. 

151: 10,  limes,  to  ensnare  birds  with  lime. 

152:  2,  sars,  lot;  a  right  Virgilian  dip;  pages  of  Virgil  were  opened 
at  random  to  secure  directions  for  conduct.  (18)  truck,  barter  or 
exchange. 

153: 43,  Pietro  of  Cortona,  1596-1669,  fresco  painter,  decorated 
ceilings  of  Palazzo  Barberini.  (44)  Ciro  Fern,  1634-1689,  historic 
painter,  in  manner  of  Cortona. 

155: 5,  haioc,  about  one  cent.  (23)  Ser  Franco's  merry  Tales, 
Franco  Sacebetti,  1335-1410. 

156: 43,  soldo,  about  two  cents. 

157: 45,  Thyrsis,  young  Arcadian  shepherd  in  Virgil's  seventh 
Eclogue  ;  Neara,  country  maid  in  third  and  fifth  Eclogues. 

159: 19,  Francis'  manna;  Franciscans  lived  wholly  upon  alms  given 
them. 

161 : 1,  Locusta,  female  poisoner,  who  aided  Nero  in  poisoning 
Brittanicus.  (40)  Bilboa,  cutlass  of  flexible  blade,  so  named  from  the 
Spanish  discoverer. 

163:20,  stans  pede  in  uno,  standing  on  one  foot,  Horace,  Satires,  i. 
4,  10.     (21)  plainsong,  plain  notes  of  an  air,  without  ornamentation. 

168 :  8,  succubus,  demon  or  evil  spirit  of  Middle  Ages. 

169: 35,  Catullus,  Roman  lyric  poet,  87-47  B.  c. 

171 :  18,  Ultima  Thule,  legendary  land  of  ancients  at  world's  end. 
(19)  Proximo  Civitas,  nearest  city. 

173:3,  Ovid's  art.  The  Art  of  Love  of  that  poet.  (4)  Summa,  St. 
Thomas  Aquinas'  Summa  Theologice,  the  great  work  on  Roman  the- 
ology. (5)  Corinna  ;  Ovid  so  called  in  his  poems  his  mistress  Julia. 
(11)  merum  sal,  pure  salt. 

177: 13,  Quis  est  pro  Domino,  Who  is  on  the  Lord's  side  ? 

181:  43,  ad  judices  meos,  to  my  judges. 

182 :  18,  legist,  lawyer.  (19)  Justinian's  Pandects,  digest  of  Roman 
laws  made  in  sixth  century. 

187: 19,  soldier-bee,  fights  for  protection  of  the  hive,  and  in  using 
sting  sacrifices  his  life.     (20)  exenterate,  to  eviscerate  or  disembowel. 

190:  21,  casting  lots  .  .   .for  the  coat  of  One,  Matthew  xxvii.  35. 

194:14,  Capo-in-Sacco,  in  Dante's  Paradiso,  xvi.  121:  — 

Already  had  Caponsacco  to  the  Market 
From  Fiesole  deBcended. 

(18)  Mercato,  market,  as  referred  to  by  Dante  in  preceding.  (33) 
Ferdinand,  second  of  that  name.  Grand-duke  of  Tuscany,  of  Medici 
family,  1621-1670. 

195:23,  sacrosanct,  sacred,  refers  to  Hebrew  unwillingness  to  pro- 
nounce the  Sacred  Name,  substituting  Adonai,  Lord,  for  Jahwe,  Je- 
hovah.    (34)  Diocletian,  Roman  emperor,  284^305. 


NOTES  487 

196:  13,  Onesimus,  Philemon  11,  18.  (16)  Agripm,  Acts  xxvii. 
(18)  Fenelon,  French  preacher  and  bishop,  1651-1751.  (28)"  Mari- 
nesque  Adoniad,  the  poem  called  Adone  (Adonis)  by  Giovanni  Battista 
Marino,  or  Marini,  published  in  1623.  (41)  Pieve,  church  of  Sta. 
Maria  della  Pieve,  one  of  the  leading  parish  churches  of  Arezzo. 
(44)  tarocs,  a  game  with  cards. 

197:  39,  break  Priscian's  head,  violate  the  rules  of  grammar  as  laid 
down  by  Prisoian,  as  was  done  by  the  impure  Latin  used  by  the 
church,  the  effects  of  hearing  of  which  could  be  overcome  by  reading 
Ovid. 

198:  7, /accAim,  porters.  {^2)  In  exceUis  .  .  .  secula  seculorum,  the 
gloria  sung  at  end  of  each  Psalm  in  Roman  Church. 

199: 26,  canzonet,  short  song  in  one,  two,  or  three  parts. 

201:29,  Thyrsis  and  MyrtiUa,  shepherd  and  shepherdess,  so  called 
in  pastoral  poetry.     (44)  Ave,  the  Ave  Maria,  Hail  Mary,  sung  at 
evening  prayer. 
_  202  : 8,  Philomel,   an  Athenian   maid  turned  into  a  nightingale, 
sings  of  her  sorrows. 

204:44,  Lady  of  all  the  Sorrows  ;  the  Madonna  is  painted  with  a 
sword  piercing  her  heart,  Luke  xi.  35. 

210:24,  Saint  Thomas,  Aquinas.  (25)  CepUsian  reed)  largest 
river  in  Attica,  on  west  side  of  Athens,  was  the  Cephisus. 

211:7,  corona,  rosary.  (21)  fabled  garden,  Hesperides,  where 
golden  apple  was  guarded  by  a  dragon. 

213:33,  our  Lady's  girdle ;  legend  says  that  when  Mary  ascended 
into  heaven  she  loosened  her  girdle,  and  that  it  dropped  into  the 
hands  of  the  doubting  apostle,  Thomas. 

216: 7,  God's  sea,  Bevelation  iv.  6.  (16)  Parian,  marble  from 
Pares  ;  cnprolite,  petrified  dung  of  carnivorous  reptiles. 

217:  21,  angelus,  prayer  to  Mary,  consisting  of  Ave  Maria,  versiole, 
response,  and  collect,  said  at  morning,  noon,  and  night,  when  bell  is 
rung  in  peculiar  manner  to  announce  the  hour. 

222:21,  Moliere;  in  his  Don  Juan  this  dramatist  makes  the  liber- 
tine husband  claim  the  nun,  Donna  Elvire,  as  his  wife. 

225:19,  the  paten,  plate  on  which  the  Host  is  carried  in  the 
Mass. 

226:13,  Pasquin;  a  rough,  unfinished,  and  mutilated  statue  in  the 
Piazza  di  Pasquino,  at  the  angle  of  the  Braschi  Palace,  near  the 
Piazza  Navona.  It  was  found  in  the  sixteenth  century,  and  is  thought 
to  represent  Menelaus  supporting  the  dead  body  of  Patroelus.  It 
has  been  greatly  admired  by  some  artists,  and  Bernini  even  thought 
it  the  finest  fragment  of  antiquity.  A  tailor  by  the  name  of  Pasquino, 
near  whose  shop  it  was,  entertained  his  customers  with  the  gossip  of 
the  day.  At  the  same  time,  the  statue  was  used  for  pasting  squibs 
and  satires  upon  in  the  vein  of  Pasquino's  tattle.  Hence  these  writ- 
ings came  to  be  called  pasquinades.  Jibes,  satires,  rhymed  wit, 
posted  in  some  public  place,  have  for  centuries  been  a  peculiar  and 
popular  institution  in  Kome  under  the  name  of  Pasquin.  (20)  Bem- 
bo's  verse,  Pietro  Bembo,  1470-1547,  secretary  of  Leo  X.,  a  cardinal, 
man  of  letters,  and  restorer  of  Latin.  (21)  De  Tribus,  title  of  a  scan- 
dalous pamphlet  called  The  Three  Impostors  (Moses,  Christ,  and 
Mahomet),  which  was  well  known  in  the  seventeenth  century.     Sea  ■ 


488  NOTES 

Poet-lore,  vi.  248.  (45)  sub  imputatione  meretricis  tofiorat,  labors  under 
the  imputation  of  unchastity. 

227:40,  Potiphar,  Genesis  xxxix.  10. 

228: 10,  De  Raptu  Helenm,  concerning  the  rape  of  Helen  of  Troy. 
(14)  scazons,  iambic  verses,  with  spondee  instead  of  iambic  in  final 
foot. 

234: 5,  Probationis  ob  defectum,  for  want  of  suf&cient  proof. 

235: 6,  Augustinian  .  .  .  who  writes  the  letter  ;  in  the  pamphlet  discov- 
ered by  the  poet,  the  Augustinian  monk  who  confesses  Pompilia,  Fra 
Celestino  Angelo  di  Sant  Anna,  said  at  the  end  of  his  deposition:  "  I 
do  not  say  more  for  fear  of  being  taxed  with  partiality.  I  know  weU 
that  God  alone  can  examine  the  heart.  But  I  know  also  that  from 
the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaks;  and  that  my  great  St. 
Augustine  says :  As  the  Ufe  was,  so  is  its  end." 

237: 22,  what  ike  marble  lion  meant,  symbol  of  severity  of  tiie  church 
towards  sinners  and  heretics. 

239:22,  a  new  saint,  Saint  Gaetan,  or  Cajetan,  1480-1547,  founder 
of  order  of  Theatins,  canonized  by  Clement  X.  in  1671. 

243: 4,  San  Giovanni,  built  in  time  of  Constantine,  on  site  of  palace 
of  Plautius  Lateranus,  hence  called  "  The  Lateran." 

245:44,  cavalier,  Perseus  rescuing  Andromeda  from  sea-monster. 

246:  30,  Master  Malpichi,  probably  Marcello  Malpighi,  1628-1694, 
professor  of  medicine  in  Bologna  University,  founder  of  microscopic 
anatomy,  who  was  in  1691  summoned  to  Rome  by  Innocent  XII.  and 
appointed  his  chief  physician  and  chamberlain.  (34)  Lion's-moruih, 
Via  di  Bocca  di  Lione,  street  in  Rome. 

259:40,  comet,  piece  of  paper  twisted  into  conical  shape. 

263: 5,  Mirtillo,  probably  an  imaginary  pastoral  poet. 

266:44,  piece  i'  the  Pieve;  above  high  altar  is  a  painting  of  Saint 
G«orge  killing  the  dragon,  by  Vasari. 

279:  title,  Pauperum  Procurator,  official  defender  of  criminals.  (2) 
Cinone,  diminutive  of  Giacinto,  as  are  Cinozzo,  Cinoncello,  and  other 
pet  names  used  in  this  book.  (7)  Quies  me  cum  svbjunetivo,,  a  truce 
with  the  subjunctive.  "  Qui  "  is  perhaps  used  as  an  English  verb,  with 
the  meaning  of  to  quiz,  to  raise  many  questions  about  the  subjunctive. 
Professor  Hiram  Corson  says :  "  The  poet  has  used  the  relative  qui  as 
a  verb,  to  which  he  has  joined  the  ending  of  the  third  person  singular, 
present  tense,  of  the  English  verb.  The  '  es '  of  the  word  is  in  Roman 
type,  while  the  '  qui '  is  italicized.  My  Giacinto  '  branches  me  out 
Jus  verb-tree  on  the  slate  .  .  .  Quies  me,'  etc.,  that  is,  gives  me  the 
rule  of  qui  with  the  subjunctive.  The  word  should  be  pronounced  in 
one  syllable,  kweez,  and  is  to  be  construed  with  branches.  It  is  an 
instance  of  Browning's  lovely  literary  audacity."  (8)  Corderius, 
Mathurin  Cordier,  whose  Colloqwa  Scholastica  was  the  most  popular 
Latin  school-book  of  the  time.  (14)  Papinianian,  from  Papinius, 
greatest  of  Roman  jurists. 

280:9,  galligaskin,  large,  open  breeches  or  wide  hose.  (11)  Con- 
dotti,  street  running  from  the  Corso.  (23)  Flaccus,  Quintns  Horatius 
Elaccus  or  Horace,  whose  quassa  nuce,  a  proverbial  expression  for 
something  worthless,  is  in  his  Satires,  ii.  iS,  35. 

281:  15,  Nan  nobis,  Domine,  sed  tibi  lausj  Not  unto  ins,  O  Lord,  but 
to  thee,  be  the  praise.     (22)  Pre  MUone,  For  Milo,  the  oration  of 


NOTES  489 

Cicero  in  defence  of  his  friend  of  that  name.  (36)  Hortemius,  Ro- 
man orator  of  Cicero's  time.  (37)  Est-est,  a  wine  so  called  because 
a  nobleman  once  sent  his  servant  in  advance  to  write  "  Est,"  it  is  I 
on  any  inn  where  the  wine  was  particularly  good;  at  one  place  the 
man  wrote  "Est-est,"  It  is  !  it  is  !  in  token  of  its  superlative  excel- 
lence, and  the  vintage  has  ever  since  gone  by  that  designation. 

282: 3,  Pro  Guidone  et  Sociis,  For  Guido  and  his  companions.  (5) 
Duxit  in  uxorem ;  in  this  book  the  poet  translates  the  Latin  immedi- 
ately before  or  after  its  use,  and  only  those  sentences  not  so  explained 
will  be  translated  here.  (16)  owls  for  augury,  regarded  as  birds  of 
evil  omen.  (23)  Farinacci,  Prosper  Farinacci,  1544^1613,  procura- 
tor-general of  Paul  v.,  author  of  a  work  on  torture.  Praxis  et  Theo- 
rica  Criminous ;  also  Varim  Qucestiones,  and  other  legal  works,  which 
had  high  authority  in  their  time.  In  1599  he  defended  Beatrice 
Cenci. 

283: 6,  insulse,  absurd. 

286: 27,  Questions  here  has  meaning  of  tortures,  and  is  so  used  in 
title  of  Farinaoci's  book.  (29)  Vigiliarum,  torture  by  constant  jerk!- 
ing  of  limbs  and  body. 

287: 11,  poet's  word,  that  of  Virgil,  Georgics,  ii.  458.  (13)  dubiety, 
doubtfulness. 

289:35,  to  whose  dominion,  Mnmt,  i.  278.  (38)  Poscimur,  some- 
thing is  expected  of  us. 

290: 1,  Theodoric,  Ostrogothic  king,  454-526.  (2)  Cassiadorus, 
historian  and  statesman,  secretary  of  Theodoric.  (17)  Scaliger,  Jo- 
seph Justus,  1484^1558,  great  writer  and  philosopher.  (22)  Idyllist, 
Theocritus,  lyric  Greek  poet  of  third  century  before  Christ.  (31) 
^lian,  in  hb  De  Natura  Animalium,  xi.  15. 

291:15,  ahsit,  away! 

292: 1,  Twelve  Tables,  first  laws  of  Kome,  largely  traditional  or 
customary.  (3)  Julian,  public  and  private  laws  enacted  by  Augus- 
tus; Cornelian,  law  Of  murder  passed  by  Lucius  Cornelius  Sulla; 
Gracchus'  Law,  laws  passed  by  the  tribune  of  that  name.  (7)  dilu- 
culum,  daybreak.  (15)  Saint  Jerome,  monk  and  author  of  fifth  cen- 
tury, translator  of  and  commentator  on  the  Bible.  (29)  Gregory, 
Pope  Gregory  the  Great,  550-640,  who  wrote  a  series  of  dialogues  on 
the  saints. 

293: 10,  consentaneous,  consistent  with.  (11)  Saint  Bernard,  1091- 
1153,  founder  of  Bemardines,  one  of  the  great  church  leaders  of  his 
time.  (37)  pulled  down  pillar.  Judges  xvi.  29.  (44)  mansuetude, 
meekness,  gentleness. 

294: 18,  Saint  Ambrose,  great  bishop  of  fifth  century,  organizer  of 
early  Christian  music.  (31)  crepuscular,  glimmering.  (38)  Moses' 
law,  Deuteronomy  xxii.  24.     (39)  put  her  away,  Matthew  v.  32. 

296: 28,  acorn-eating  race,  Greek  and  other  myths  describe  primi- 
tive peoples  as  so  living.     (29)  bridle  a  horse,  James  iii.  3. 

297: 28,  Matthceus,  Dutch  jurist,  1635-1710. 

299: 10,  Crudum  Priamum  .  .  .  Priamique  pisinnos,  Iliad  iv,  35,  in 
translation  of  Attius  Labeo,  now  lost,  but  these  words  preserved  by 
the  scholiast  on  Persius.  (43)  ad  Areopagum,  to  the  Areopagus, 
hill  near  Acropolis,  Athens. 

300: 15,    Valerius  Maximus,  Latin  writer  of  first  century,   who 


490  NOTES 

collected  historical  anecdotes  and  instances  into  his  Books  of  Memora- 
ble Deeds  and  Utterances.  (17)  Cyriacus,  patriarch  of  Jacobite 
monks,  Bizona,  Syria,  who  wrote  many  sermons  and  letters,  as  well 
as  church  laws,  died  817.  (39)  as  Ovid  found,  who  scribbled  as  a 
youth  instead  of  following  his  legal  studies. 

301: 9,  Brazen  Head;  in  the  Middle  Ages  there  was  a  current  be- 
lief that  a  brazen  head  could  be  made  which  would  speak.  It  is  said 
that  Roger  Bacon  was  occupied  for  seven  years  in  the  construction  of 
such  a  head,  which  he  expected  would  tell  him  how  to  put  a  wall 
of  brass  around  Britain.  It  was  expected  that  this  head  would  speak 
within  a  month  of  its  completion,  but,  as  no  particular  time  was  given. 
Bacon  set  his  man  to  watch.  At  the  end  of  a  half  hour  the  head 
said,  '  Time  is; '  after  another  half  hour,  '  Time  was; '  and  in  still  an- 
other, '  Time  's  past,'  when  it  fell  down  with  a  crash  and  was  shivered 
in  pieces. 

303: 16,  Sistine,  chapel  in  papal  palace  celebrated  for  its  frescoes. 
(17)  Camerlengo,  pope's  chamberlain,  chief  of  cardinals,  presides 
when  papal  chair  is  vacant. 

305:  26,  Furor  ministrat  arma,  Virgil,  yEneid,  i.  150.  (27)  Unde  mi 
lapidem,  unde  sagittas,  Horace,  Satires,  ii.  7,  116. 

306:  34,  Horatian  satire.  Satires,  i.  2,  46. 

310: 37,  JoaVs,  2  Samuel  xii.  26.  (41)  Innocentinopolis,  city  of  In- 
nocent, a  mere  play  on  the  pope's  name  and  character. 

312:40,  Tobit,  Apocrypha,  Book  of  Tobit,  v.  and  vi. 

313: 24,  Castrensis,  Butringarius,  Paulus  de  Castro,  professor  of  law 
in  several  Italian  universities  during  fifteenth  century;  Jacobus 
Butrigarius,  jurisconsult,  1274^1348. 

318:  30,  bipsi,  perfect  should  be  bibi. 

319:22,  Horaiian  promise,  Epodes,  8,  13. 

321:21,  marmoreal,  resembliig  marble;  uberous,  full. 

322: 14,  E  pluribus  unum,  Virgil,  Moretum,  103.  (32)  eximious, 
famous  or  renowned.  (37)  the  Florentine,  Michel  Angelo.  (38)  the 
Urbinate,  Rafael. 

324: 2,  Phryne,  reference  to  the  defence  of  the  Greek  courtesan  by 
Hyperides,  who,  when  he  saw  that  his  case  was  going  against  him, 
drew  back  her  dress  and  displayed  her  breasts,  thus  gaining  her 
canse.  (9)  Tale  of  Tarquin,  threat  of  Sextus  Tarquinus,  when  seek- 
ing to  betray  Lucretia,  that  he  would  swear  she  had  been  with  a  slave 
of  her  husband's. 

325:2,  Sermocinando,  etc.,  let  me  not  declaim  beyond  the  clock 
with  my  discoursing.  (5)  Flaccus,  Horace,  Odes,  ii.  4,  17.  (14)  the 
Teian,  Anacreon,  born  in  Teos,  Ionia;  reference  is  to  Ode,  ii. 

326:27,  the  Mantuan,  Virgil,  Eclogues  4,  5,  where  the  poet  sings 
of  the  coming  of  a  new  order  of  things.  (32)  passage  in  the  Canticles, 
Song  of  Solomon  ii.  11. 

327: 14,  olent,  scented.     (44)  Flaccus,  Odes,  ii.  4,  17. 

328: 13,  Abigail,  1  Samuel  xxv.  18,  37,  42.  (22)  heu  prisca  fides, 
alas,  the  antique  faith. 

329:  2,  Comacchian,  eel  of  variety  considered  very  dainty.  (8) 
Lemaan  snake,  hydra  of  Lerna  killed  by  Hercules.  (12)  Insanit  homo, 
the  man  is  insane.     (36)  the  lyrist,  Anacreon,  Ode  on  Women. 

330: 18,  Persius,  in  his  epilogue  to  Satires,  6,  where  the  poet  refeis 


NOTES  491 

to  the  glib  ability  of  a,  parrot  to  say  "  good-morning "  and  of  the 
magpie  to  speak  like  men,  this  capacity,  he  says,  being  gained  by 
that  great  teacher,  the  stomach.  (29)  Negatas  artifex  sequi  voces, 
skilful  at  speaking  the  words  denied. 

332:  2,  Venus  losing  Cupid,  see  myth  of  Cupid  and  Psyche,  as  told 
by  Apuleius.  (3)  Idyllium  Moschi,  Moschus,  Idyll  i.,  where  Venus 
offers  the  kiss  of  Cypris  for  the  recovery  of  Cupid.  (14)  Myrtillus, 
Amaryllis,  names  of  lovers  in  pastoral  poetry.  (21)  Ulysses,  Odyssey, 
iv.  316.     (42)  Judith,  Apocrypha,  Judith  xiii. 

333: 11,  bane  of  Icarus,  Ovid,  Metamorphoses,  viii.  3,  myth  of  Icarus 
getting  too  near  the  sun  and  thus  melting  off  the  wings  his  father 
Dsedalus  had  fastened  on  him  with  wax.  (26)  him  of  Gath,  Goliath, 
1  Samuel  xvii.  8.  (30)  Saint  Paul  .  .  .  o'  the  puny  presence,  2  Corin- 
thians X.  10,  refers  to  Christian  tradition  that  Paul  was  a  small  man, 
which  liis  own  words  confirm. 

334: 10,  Helen's  nepenthe,  Odyssey, ^w.  285,  drug  given  to  Helen  by 
Egyptian  Polydamna,  which  brought  oblivion  of  the  evils  of  life. 
(29)  Suis  expensis,  nemo  militat,  no  one  undertakes  war  to  his  own 
cost.  (40)  Dido,  who  founded  a  kingdom  after  her  husband  bad 
been  murdered  by  her  uncle  for  the  sake  of  his  riches,  which  she 
carried  away. 

333:21,  Sororia  saltern  oscula,  sisterly  kisses,  surely. 

337: 10,  Archimedes,  Greek  mathematician,  287-212  B.  c,  tradition 
says  was  killed  at  Syracuse  as  poet  describes. 

338 : 9,  Medicean  mode,  as  in  case  of  Venus  de'  Medioi. 

339: 18,  cubiculum,  sleeping-chamber.  (34)  Demodocus,  Odyssey, 
viii.  330,  minstrel  of  Alcinous,  Phseacian  king,  from  whom  gods  took 
his  sight,  but  gave  him  power  of  song.  In  same  book  is  told  story  of 
Vulcan  referred  to. 

340:1,  T'aciftw,  Roman  historian,  A.  D.  54-110.  (7)  Thalassian-pure  ; 
Plutarch's  Romulus  tells  of  maiden,  at  rape  of  Sabine  women,  reserved 
for  Thalassius,  whom  all  were  anxious  to  keep  pure,  in  order  that  the 
bravest  might  have  the  fairest.  ^ 

341:  7,  Magdalen  mistook,  John  xx.  15.  (37)  Hesione,  daughter  of 
Laomedon,  king  of  Troy,  saved  by  Hercules  when  she  was  exposed  to 
a  sea  monster  in  order  to  save  the  city  from  plague.  (45)  Alcmena's 
son,  Hercules. 

342: 11,  unblamed  Mthiop,  Iliad,  i.  423,  twelve  days'  feast  of  Zeus 
with  the  Ethiopians.  Hercules  i'  the  lap  of  Omphale  ;  she  so  won  love 
of  the  hero  that  he  forgot  his  labors  to  spin  wool  in  the  midst  of  her 
company  of  women.  (21)  anti-Fabius,  antithesis  to  conduct  of  Fabius 
Maximus,  who,  in  second  Punic  war,  opposed  Hannibal  by  ambush 
and  counter-marches. 

343: 9,  Sepher  Toldoth  YescJiu,  the  book  of  the  Generation  of  Jesus, 
New  Testament  apocryphal  work. 

344:  43,  Thueydides  .  .  .  sole  joke.  History  of  Peloponnesian  War, 
Book  I.,  near  end,  scholiast  on  says,  "  Here  the  lion  laughs." 

345:25,  Sophocles,  (Edipus  at  Colonus,  1382;  Justice,  in  the  customs 
of  old  laws,  sits  forever  at  the  right  hand  of  Zeus. 

346:  13,  leet-day,  day  when  the  court  sits. 

347: 26,  Redeunt  Satumia  regna,  Virgil,  Eclogues,  iv.  6.  (32)  mued, 
moulted. 


492  NOTES 

348:40,  colocynth,  drug  made  from  bitter  cucumber,  used  as  a 
purgative. 

349:8,  Forsan  et  hcBC  olim  meminisse  iuvabit,  Virgil,  ^neid,  i.  203. 
It  may  be  that  one  day  we  shall  enjoy  recalling  these  experiences. 
(42)  Cujum  pecus,  Virgil,  Eclogues,  iii.  1.  "  Whose  flock  is  this,  — 
Meliboeus'  ?     No,  iEgon's." 

350: 10,  Maro,  Virgil.  (11)  Aristceus,  son  of  Apollo,  who  taught 
nymphs  to  grow  olives  and  to  manage  bees.  (41)  Incipe,  parve  puer, 
etc.,  Virgil,  Eclogues,  iv.  60,  285,  1218. 

351 :  30,  Beati  pauperes,  Blessed  are  the  poor,  first  Beatitude  of 
Sermon  on  the  Mount. 

353: 23,  Triarii,  in  Koman  legion  third  formation,  containing  most 
experienced  soldiers,  only  used  as  reserve.  (35)  Solvuntur  tabulce, 
Horace,  Satires,  ii.  86,  where  poet  uses  solventur  risu  tabulce,  the  court 
will  break  up  in  laughter. 

354: 11,  Titulus,  title.  , 

355: 11,  panegyric  of  Isocrates,  435-338  b.  c,  Athenian  orator,  who 
in  380  spoke  in  behalf  of  war  against  Persia. 

356: 1,  Ahasuerus,  Esther  vi.  1.  (11)  Peter  to  Alexander,  succession 
of  popes,  from  Peter  to  Alexander  VIII.,  predecessor  of  Innocent 
XII.  (25)  Formosus,  pope  from  891  to  895.  Stephen  VT.  or  VII.,  who 
soon  after  succeeded  him,  was  his  political  opponent,  owing  to  a  differ- 
ence of  opinion  as  to  whether  Arnulph  or  Lambert  should  be  the 
emperor.  .  Formosus  favored  Arnulph,  and  Stephen  was  on  the  side 
of  Lambert.  Stephen  dug  up  the  body  of  Formosus,  put  on  his  pon- 
tifical robes,  seated  him  in  the  papal  chair,  addressed  him  as  if  he 
were  alive,  had  him  tried,  and  condemned  him  for  unlawfully  holding 
the  papal  chair.  Romanus  became  pope  in  September,  897,  and  held 
the  place  for  three  months  and  twenty-two  days.  One  writer  says  he 
annulled  the  acts  of  Stephen  with  reference  to  Formosus,  and  de- 
clared his  proceedings  unjust  and  illegal.  The  early  writers  do  not 
make  this  statement.  Stephen  seems  to  have  been  driven  from  Rome 
and  strangled  in  896,  Jor  he  was  a  bad  and  unjust  man.  Theodoric 
II.  became  pope  in  898,  and  held  the  office  for  twenty  days.  He  took 
the  body  of  Stephen  from  the  Tiber,  where  it  had  been  thrown,  de- 
clared his  acts  legal  and  valid,  and  had  his  body  interred  in  the  Vati- 
can. John  IX.  followed  Theodore  in  898.  He  called  a  council  at 
Ravenna  of  seventy-fonr  bishops,  with  Lambert,  who  declared  a  legal 
council  previously  held  in  Rome,  that  had  annulled  Stephen's  acts 
against  Formosus.  Then  came  Sergius  III.  in  904-911,  who  had 
been  kept  from  the  papal  chair  for  many  years  by  John  IX.  This 
struggle  of  the  popes  grew  out  of  a  fierce  effort  to  make  the  empe- 
rors their  tools.  Platina,  Lives  of  the  Popes,  gives  details.  (26)  Sige- 
bert,  king  of  Austrasia,  then  a  monk.     (32)  Stephen,  896-897. 

358:15,  IX0T2  wJiich  means  fish,  initials  of  Greek  words  for  Jesus 
Christ,  of  God,  Son,  Saviour,  "ijio-oOs  Xpt(tr6s  @eov  rids  laniip.  The  fish 
was  used  by  early  Christians  as  a  secret  symbol  by  means  of  which 
they  distinguished  one  another.  (17)  Pope  is  Fisherman,  as  successor 
to  Peter  the  fisherman,  Mark  i.  17. 

359: 4,  Luitprand,  Bishop  of  Cremona  and  chronicler  of  the  period, 
who  wrote  of  this  conflict  of  the  popes  and  emperors,  and  who  said 
that  "  upon  the  dead  body  of  Stephen  being  carried  into  the  church 


NOTES  493 

it  was  saluted,  as  many  Romans  informed  him,  by  all  the  images  of 
the  saints  there."  (11)  John,  pope  in  870,  John  IX.,  removed  Holy 
See  to  Ravenna.  (16)  Evde,  elected  in  888.  (19)  Auxilius,  French 
theologian  of  tenth  century,  whose  work  concerning  ordinations  is 
quoted.     (23)  Marinus,  ecclesiastic  of  fourth  century. 

362:39,  sagacious  Swede,  Swedenborg,  1688-1772,  whose  theory 
of  mathematical  probability  is  referred  to,  but  the  poet  forgets  that 
Swedenborg  was  only  ten  years  old  when  he  makes  the  pope  quote 
him. 

366:32,  paravent,  protection  from  wind;  omhrifuge,  protection 
from  rain. 

367: 32,  soldier-crab,  hermit-crab. 

370:40,  other  Aretine,  Pietro  Aretino,  who  wrote  several  -  obscene 
works. 

373:  34,  when  Saturn  ruled,  Greek  myth  of  an  early  golden  age. 

374: 22,  hebetude,  dullness.  (42)  Rota,  papal  court  of  twelve 
members,  formerly  supreme  court  of  justice  and  appeal. 

375  11,  i'  the  wash  o'  the  wave,  Matthew  viii.  32. 

376 :  33,  she-pard,  female  leopard. 

380: 32,  the  other  rose,  the  gold,  an  ornament  of  wrought  gold  set 
with  gems,  blessed  by  the  pope  on  fourth  Sunday  of  Lent,  and  sent 
to  distinguished  individuals,  churches,  or  states  as  a  mark  of  special 
favor.     (38)  leviathan.  Job  xli.  102. 

386:30,  isoscele  deficient  in  the  base;  two  sides,  intelligence  and 
strength,  are  seen;  but  the  other,  goodness,  does  not  appear. 

387:2,  I  have  said  ye  are  Gods,  John  x.  34.  (21)  explains  choppy 
cheek  by  chemic  law,  man  explains  the  efEect  of  cold  on  the  chappy  (== 
chapped)  cheek  by  chemical  action.  —  Professor  Genung. 

391 :  29,  Tien,  the  C^nese  name  for  Heaven,  in  the  sense  of  creator 
and  revealer;  Shang-ti,  an  identical  name  with  the  Chinese  for  God, 
or  the  divine  source  of  things.  (36)  Cardinal  Tournon,  apostolic 
vicar,  sent  to  China  in  1701;  his  indiscretions  caused  his  imprisonment 
by  the  emperor. 

392:  6,  adept  of  the  Rosy  Cross,  member  of  the  order  of  Rosicrucians, 
a  name  derived  from  ros,  dew,  and  crux,  cross.  They  believed  that 
dew  would  dissolve  light  and  give  them  the  philosopher's  stone.  (7) 
Great  Work,  Magnum  Opus  of  sages,  who  sought  to  find  the  absolute 
in  the  infinite,  the  indefinite  and  finite. 

393:8,  some  bard,  philosopher  or  both;  the  speech  that  follows  is 
spoken  by  Euripides. 

394: 1,  Third  Poet,  Euripides;  the  Two,  .SIsohylus  and  Sophocles. 
(12)  Paul  spoke.  Acts  xxiii.  23;  xxiv.  10,  25.  (24)  Galileo,  the  great 
astronomer,  1664-1642. 

395: '10,  Paul  answered  Seneca  ;  a  Christian  tradition  brings  Paul 
and  Seneca  together  as  friends  in  Rome,  and  there  exists  a  corre- 
spondence between  them,  sometimes  printed  in  the  N.  T.  Apocrypha, 
but  which  is  undoubtedly  of  a  much  later  date  than  the  first  century. 

396: 36,  Nero's  cross  and  stake,  the  crucifying  and  burning  of 
Christians  by  this  Emperor. 

398:16,  antimasque,  ridiculous  interlude;  Hbe,  chap  or  crack  in 
flesh.  (37)  morrice,  morris,  a  dance  borrowed  and  named  from  the 
Moors. 


494  NOTES 

399: 8,  Loyola,  founder  of  order  of  Society  of  Jesus  or  Jesuits, 
1491-1556. 

400: 6,  nemini  honorem  irado,  I  will  not  give  mine  honor  to  another. 

401: 30,  Barabbas'  self,  Mark  xxvii.  15.  (34)  the  three  little  taps;  on 
the  death  of  a  pope  his  chamberlain  strikes  his  forehead  three  times 
with  a  silver  mallet  and  calls  to  him,  to  make  sure  that  he  is  dead. 
(43)  petii-maitre,  dandy  or  coxcomb.  (44)  Sanctus  et  Benedictus,  holy 
and  blessed. 

402:16,  Priam,  the  last  king  of  Troy.  (17)  Hecuba,  wife  of 
Priam;  non  tali  auxilio,  Virgil,  jEneid,  ii.  519:  Non  tali  auxilio  nee 
defensoribus  istis  tempus  eget,  the  crisis  requires  not  such  aid  nor 
such  defenders  as  thou  art. 

404: 4,"  battlemented  convent-block  .  .  .  Certosa,  La  Certosa,  castle- 
like Carthusian  monastery  in  Val  Emo,  four  miles  from  Florence, 
built  about  1341. 

408: 16,  Mouth-of-Truth,  Bocca  della  Verity,  a  large  stone  mask  in 
the  portico  of  the  church  of  Sta.  Maria  in  Corniedin;  an  old  belief  is 
that  whoever  puts  his  hand  into  the  mouth  of  the  mask,  if  he  has  told 
falsehood,  cannot  withdraw  it  again. 

409:  28,  elucubrate,  to  work  by  candle-light,  hence  figuratively  to 
study  hard.     (44)  Merry  Tales,  novels  of  Franco  Sacchetti. 

410: 10,  Albano,  Francesco  Albano,  1578-1660,  celebrated  painter 
born  at  Bologna,  whose  picture  of  the  assumption  of  St.  Sebastian  is 
in  the  church  in  Rome  named  after  that  saint.  (29)  Atlas,  first 
cervical  vertebra,  on  which  head  rests.  (30)  Azis,  the  second  cervi- 
cal vertebra;  symphyses,  the  cartilaginous  union  of  the  bones  with 
each  other.  (32)  the  silver  cord  .  .  .  golden  boiol,  Ecclesiastes  xii.  6. 
(41)  extravasate,  act  of  letting  out  of  the  proper  containing  vessels  or 
ducts.  (42)  Roland's  sword  .  .  .  Oliver's  mac^,  heroes  in  Song  of 
Roland.     (45)  arachnoid,  like  spider's  web,  membrane  of  the  brain. 

411:18,  Petrus,  quo  vadis,  Peter,  whither  goest  thou?  refers  to 
legend  that  Peter,  fleeing  from  a  martyr's  fate,  met  Christ  going 
towards  Rome,  and  asked  him,  Uomine,  quo  vadis  ?  Lord,  whither 
goest  thou  ?  the  reply  being,  Veuio  iterum  crnoiiigi,  I  come  to  be 
crucified  again;  which  caused  Peter  to  turn  back  and  accept  his 
martyrdom.     (21)  Dorcas,  Acts  ix.  36. 

415:17,  Gorgon  shield,  worn  by  Minerva,  on  which  was  head  of 
Medusa,  deadliest  of  the  three  Gorgons,  that  turned  those  to  stone 
who  looked  on  it. 

416:34,  King  Cophetua,  not  him  of  Africa,  evidently,  who  married 
the  beggar-maid,  but  perhaps  an  invented  instance  of  Browning's 
own. 

419: 10,  tinkle,  ringing  of  a  bell  to  warn  the  worshippers  of  the 
elevation  of  the  Host  in  the  Mass.  (13)  Trebbian,  wine  from  Trevi, 
in  valley  of  Clitnmnus. 

420: 16,  caudatory,  dependent,  one  under  control  of  another. 

421:21,  hocus-pocus,  said  to  be  corruption  of  hoc  est  corpus,  words 
used  by  priest  in  consecration  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  mass;  also  said 
to  be  from  Ochus  Boohus,  an  Italian  magician  invoked.by  magicians. 
Probably  neither  explanation  is  correct. 

424  : 6,  Vallombrosa  Convent,  famous  monastery  near  Florence, 
founded  about  1650. 


NOTES  495 

428: 34,  Etruscan  monster;  the  region  between  Rome  and  Florence 
was  the  site  of  the  Etrurian  race  which  preceded  and  was  conquered 
by  the  Romans,  the  remains  of  whose  artistic  genius  are  numerous 
and  remarkable,  that  mentioned  being  of  the  fabulous  Chimsera  de- 
stroyed by  Bellerophon. 

435:  7,  Armida  .  .  .  Rinaldo,  lovers  in  Tasso's  Jerusalem  Delioered. 

439 :  17,  taenia,  tape-worm. 

440:  34,  Stinche,  prison. 

443: 10,  Jansenius,  Cornelius  Jansenius,  originator  of  Jansenists 
and  indirectly  of  Molinists.  (37)  helping  Vienna  .  .  .  Mustafa, 
defeat  of  Kara  Mustapha,  Turkish  general,  who  with  a  large  army 
besieged  Vienna  in  1683,  but  was  defeated  by  John  Sobieska,  king  of 
Poland,  and  his  army  utterly  routed ;  Duke  Charles  of  Lorraine  being 
sent  by  pope  to  aid  Christian  forces. 

444:  32,  gaudeamus,  let  us  be  glad. 

446: 11,  Virgil's  fieriest  word,  Mn%\di,  viii.  314.  (14)  Jove  ^gio- 
chus,  ^gis-bearing  Jove. 

447:  7,  Master  Pietro,  Ketro  Aretino.  (20)  revealed  to  strike  Pan 
dead,  legend  that  when  crucifixion  took  place  a  voice  was  heard  pro- 
claiming, "  Pan  is  dead." 

448: 30,  Romano  vivitur  more,  Life  goes  in  the  Roman  way. 

449:2,  Byhlis  influvium  .  .  .  Lycaon  in  lupum,  Byblis  into  a  river, 
Lycaou  into  a  wolf,  transformations  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses. 

451 : 3,  Paynimrie,  paganism  or  heathendom.  (43)  Olimpias  .  .  . 
Biancas,  fond  and  fast  women,  Olimpia  being  voluptuous  niece  of 
Linocent  X.,  and  Bianca  a  Venetian  who  tried  to  save  her  husband 
from  death,  failed,  and  died  of  a  broken  heart.  (44)  Ormuz,  island 
in  Persian  sea,  famous  diamond  market. 

452:15,  Delilah,  Judges  xvi.  9.  (24)  Circe,  sorceress  in  Odyssey, 
who  changes  companions  of  Ulysses  into  swine.  (27)  Lucrezia,  Bor- 
gia, leader  in  many  crimes. 

455:17,  Albano ;  Giovanni  Francisco  Albani  succeeded  Innocent 
XII. 

456:42,  that  Athenian;  it  is  said  that  Themistocles  killed  himself 
by  drinking  buU's  blood. 

457:  2,  accursed  psalm,  that  chanted  for  the  dying  by  the  Brothers 
of  Mercy  when  they  attend  criminals  to  the  scaffold. 

458: 12,  Wormwood  Star,  Revelation  viii.,  the  star  which  the  belief 
of  the  Middle  Ages  thought  appeared  when  death  approached. 

459: 32,  Fenelon  will  be  condemned  ;  Ffeelon's  book.  Explication  des 
Maximes  des  Saints,  was  condemned  by  Innocent,  in  1699,  because  of 
its  advocacy  of  Quietism. 

460: 12,  Dogana,  custom-house.  (27)  palchetto,  stage  or  scaffold, 
palchetti  being  plural.  (36)  Three  Streets,  Corso,  Via  del  Babuino, 
and  Via  di  Ripetta,  going  south  from  Piazza  del  Popolo. 

461:35,  Tern  Quatem,  tern  is  prize  in  lottery  resulting  from  com- 
bination of  three  numbers,  a  quatem  of  four  numbers. 

462:10,  Paier,  'Our  Father'  in  Lord's  Prayer;  Ave,  Hail  Mary. 
(11)  Salve  Regina  Cceli,  Hail,  Queen  of  Heaven,  hymn  sung  at  ves- 
pers. (16)  Umbilicus,  navel  cord.  (30)  just-a-corps,  a  coat  fitting 
tightly  to  the  body. 

463:6,  Socius,  companion. 


496  NOTES 

464 :  22,  Quantum  est  hominum  venustiorum,  Catullus,  3,  2,  all  the 
men  who  have  any  cultivation.  (35)  hactenus  genioribus,  thus  far  for 
our  elders. 

465:  20,  Themis,  goddess  of  justice,  daughter  of  heaven  and  earth, 
the  speaker  holding  that  the  law-court  in  Tuscany  is  better  than  that 
in  Rome.  (26)  case  of  Gomez,  an  actual  case  the  poet  found  in  the 
book  from  which  he  took  this  murder  tale.  (27)  Reliqua  differamus 
in  crastinum,  the  rest  let  us  put  ofE  until  to-morrow.  (28)  estafette, 
courier  or  news-carrier. 

466:23,  adverti  supplico  humiliter,  I  humbly  request  that  it  be 
noticed. 

468: 2,  Spreti,  aid  to  De  Archangelis,  advocate  of  the  poor. 

469:2,  culver,  wood-pigeon.  (27)  their  idol-god  an  Ass;  early 
Christians  were  accused  of  such  worship  by  their  opponents.  (45) 
,palm^branch.  Christian  emblem  in  catacombs,  used  as  symbol  of  moral 
victory. 

472: 35,  ampollosity,  pufBed-np  or  wind-bag  quality. 

474: 14,  Astraea  redux,  justice  brought  back.  (44)  Martial's  phrase; 
here  umbilicus  means  the  ornamental  knob  at  the  end  of  the  stick  on 
which  ancient  books  were  rolled;  hence  Martial,  in  iv.  89,  in  using 
ad  umbilicum  pervenire,  means,  to  arrive  at  the  end  of  the  book. 

475:  22,  Locum-tenens,  one  holding  the  place  of  another,  a  proxy. 
(40)  Gonfalonier,  the  mayor,  because  the  bearer  of  the  gonfalon,  or 
banner  of  the  city. 

476 :  22,  Petrarch,  born  in  Arezzo,  as  was  Buonarroti,  otherwise 
Michel  Angelo;  but  the  latter  in  the  province,  not  the  city  itself. 
(23)  vexillyer,  standard-bearer.  (24)  the  Patavinian,  Livy,  who  was 
born  in  Padua  or  Patavium.  (26)  Janus  of  the  Double  Face,  a  Roman 
deity  represented  with  two  faces,  because  seeing  both  the  past  and 
the  future. 

477:  38,  Lyric  Love;  the  poet's  dead  wife  is  here  invoked  as  the 
inspiration  of  his  muse,  as  she  was  at  the  end  of  the  first  book.  (39) 
the  poet,  Nicol6  Tommaseo,  1803-1874,  Italian  poet,  critic,  and  pa- 
triot, who  wrote  the  inscription  for  the  walls  of  Casa  Gruidi  on  the 
tablet  erected  there  by  the  municipality  of  Florence  in  memory  of 
Mrs.  Browning:  Qui  scrisse  e  mori  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning,  che 
in  cuore  di  Donna  seppe  unire  saprenza  de  dotto,  e  facondia  di  poeta, 
fece  del  suo  aureo  verso,  anello,  fra  Italia  e  Inghilterra,  pose  questa 
memoria  Firenze  grata,  A.  D.  1861.  In  English :  Here  wrote  and 
died  Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning,  who  in  her  woman's  heart  united 
the  wisdom  of  the  sage  and  the  eloquence  of  the  poet,  with  her  golden 
verse  linking  Italy  to  England,  grateful  Florence  placed  this  memo- 
rial, A.  D.  1861. 


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BY  H.  O.    HOUGHTON  AND  CO. 

CAMBRIDGE,  MASS.,  U.  S.  A,