Selections From The Poems And Plays Of Robert Browning Part 37

_Intendant._ Uguccio-- 15

_Monsignor._ ... 'guccio Stefani, man! of Ascoli, Fermo and Fos...o...b..uno--what I do need instructing about are these accounts of your administration of my poor brother's affairs. Ugh! I shall never get through a third part of your accounts; take some of these dainties 20 before we attempt it, however. Are you bashful to that degree? For me, a crust and water suffice.

_Intendant._ Do you choose this especial night to question me?

_Monsignor._ This night, Ugo. You have managed my 25 late brother's affairs since the death of our elder brother --fourteen years and a month, all but three days. On the Third of December, I find him--

_Intendant._ If you have so intimate an acquaintance with your brother's affairs, you will be tender of turning 30 so far back: they will hardly bear looking into, so far back.

_Monsignor._ Aye, aye, ugh, ugh--nothing but disappointments here below! I remark a considerable payment made to yourself on this Third of December. Talk of disappointments! There was a young fellow here, 35 Jules, a foreign sculptor I did my utmost to advance, that the Church might be a gainer by us both; he was going on hopefully enough, and of a sudden he notifies to me some marvelous change that has happened in his notions of Art. Here's his letter: "He never had a clearly conceived 40 Ideal within his brain till today. Yet since his hand could manage a chisel, he has practiced expressing other men's Ideals; and, in the very perfection he has attained to, he foresees an ultimate failure: his unconscious hand will pursue its prescribed course of old years, and will 45 reproduce with a fatal expertness the ancient types, let the novel one appear never so palpably to his spirit. There is but one method of escape: confiding the virgin type to as chaste a hand, he will turn painter instead of sculptor, and paint, not carve, its characteristics"--strike out, I 50 dare say, a school like Correggio: how think you, Ugo?

_Intendant._ Is Correggio a painter?

_Monsignor._ Foolish Jules! and yet, after all, why foolish? He may--probably will--fail egregiously; but if there should arise a new painter, will it not be in some 55 such way, by a poet now, or a musician (spirits who have conceived and perfected an Ideal through some other channel), transferring it to this, and escaping our conventional roads by pure ignorance of them; eh, Ugo? If you have no appet.i.te, talk at least, Ugo! 60

_Intendant._ Sir, I can submit no longer to this course of yours. First, you select the group of which I formed one--next you thin it gradually--always retaining me with your smile--and so do you proceed till you have fairly got me alone with you between four stone walls. 65 And now then? Let this farce, this chatter, end now; what is it you want with me?

_Monsignor._ Ugo!

_Intendant._ From the instant you arrived, I felt your smile on me as you questioned me about this and the 70 other article in those papers--why your brother should have given me this villa, that _podere_--and your nod at the end meant--what?

_Monsignor._ Possibly that I wished for no loud talk here. If once you set me coughing, Ugo!-- 75

_Intendant._ I have your brother's hand and seal to all I possess: now ask me what for! what service I did him--ask me!

_Monsignor._ I would better not: I should rip up old disgraces, let out my poor brother's weaknesses. By the 80 way, Maffeo of Forli (which, I forgot to observe, is your true name), was the interdict ever taken off you, for robbing that church at Cesena?

_Intendant._ No, nor needs be; for when I murdered your brother's friend, Pasquale, for him-- 85

_Monsignor._ Ah, he employed you in that business, did he? Well, I must let you keep, as you say, this villa and that _podere_, for fear the world should find out my relations were of so indifferent a stamp? Maffeo, my family is the oldest in Messina, and century after century 90 have my progenitors gone on polluting themselves with every wickedness under heaven: my own father--rest his soul!--I have, I know, a chapel to support that it may rest; my dear two dead brothers were--what you know tolerably well; I, the youngest, might have rivaled them 95 in vice, if not in wealth: but from my boyhood I came out from among them, and so am not partaker of their plagues. My glory springs from another source; or if from this, by contrast only--for I, the bishop, am the brother of your employers, Ugo. I hope to repair some 100 of their wrong, however; so far as my brother's ill-gotten treasure reverts to me, I can stop the consequences of his crime--and not one _soldo_ shall escape me. Maffeo, the sword we quiet men spurn away, you shrewd knaves pick up and commit murders with; what opportunities 105 the virtuous forego, the villainous seize. Because, to pleasure myself, apart from other considerations, my food would be millet-cake, my dress sackcloth, and my couch straw--am I therefore to let you, the offscouring of the earth, seduce the poor and ignorant by appropriating 110 a pomp these will be sure to think lessens the abominations so unaccountably and exclusively a.s.sociated with it? Must I let villas and _poderi_ go to you, a murderer and thief, that you may beget by means of them other murderers and thieves? No--if my cough would but 115 allow me to speak!

_Intendant._ What am I to expect? You are going to punish me?

_Monsignor._ Must punish you, Maffeo. I cannot afford to cast away a chance. I have whole centuries of sin to redeem, and only a month or two of life to do it in. 120 How should I dare to say--

_Intendant._ "Forgive us our trespa.s.ses"?

_Monsignor._ My friend, it is because I avow myself a very worm, sinful beyond measure, that I reject a line of conduct you would applaud perhaps. Shall I proceed, 125 as it were, a-pardoning?--I?--who have no symptom of reason to a.s.sume that aught less than my strenuousest efforts will keep myself out of mortal sin, much less keep others out. No: I do trespa.s.s, but will not double that by allowing you to trespa.s.s. 130

_Intendant._ And suppose the villas are not your brother's to give, nor yours to take? Oh, you are hasty enough just now!

_Monsignor._ 1, 2--No. 3!--aye, can you read the substance of a letter, No. 3, I have received from Rome? It 135 is precisely on the ground there mentioned, of the suspicion I have that a certain child of my late elder brother, who would have succeeded to his estates, was murdered in infancy by you, Maffeo, at the instigation of my late younger brother--that the Pontiff enjoins on me not 140 merely the bringing that Maffeo to condign punishment, but the taking all pains, as guardian of the infant's heritage for the Church, to recover it parcel by parcel, howsoever, whensoever, and wheresoever. While you are now gnawing those fingers, the police are engaged in sealing 145 up your papers, Maffeo, and the mere raising my voice brings my people from the next room to dispose of yourself.

But I want you to confess quietly, and save me raising my voice. Why, man, do I not know the old story?

The heir between the succeeding heir, and this heir's 150 ruffianly instrument, and their complot's effect, and the life of fear and bribes and ominous smiling silence? Did you throttle or stab my brother's infant? Come now!

_Intendant._ So old a story, and tell it no better?

When did such an instrument ever produce such an 155 effect? Either the child smiles in his face, or, most likely, he is not fool enough to put himself in the employer's power so thoroughly; the child is always ready to produce--as you say--howsoever, wheresoever, and whensoever.

_Monsignor._ Liar! 160

_Intendant._ Strike me? Ah, so might a father chastise!

I shall sleep soundly tonight at least, though the gallows await me tomorrow; for what a life did I lead! Carlo of Cesena reminds me of his connivance, every time I pay his annuity; which happens commonly thrice a year. If I 165 remonstrate, he will confess all to the good bishop--you!

_Monsignor._ I see through the trick, caitiff! I would you spoke truth for once. All shall be sifted, however--seven times sifted.

_Intendant._ And how my absurd riches enc.u.mbered 170 me! I dared not lay claim to above half my possessions.

Let me but once unbosom myself, glorify Heaven, and die!

Sir, you are no brutal, dastardly idiot like your brother I frightened to death: let us understand one another. Sir, I will make away with her for you--the girl--here close 175 at hand; not the stupid obvious kind of killing; do not speak--know nothing of her nor of me! I see her every day--saw her this morning. Of course there is to be no killing; but at Rome the courtesans perish off every three years, and I can entice her thither--have indeed begun 180 operations already. There's a certain l.u.s.ty, blue-eyed, florid-complexioned English knave I and the Police employ occasionally. You a.s.sent, I perceive--no, that's not it--a.s.sent I do not say--but you will let me convert my present havings and holdings into cash, and give me time 185 to cross the Alps? Tis but a little black-eyed, pretty singing Felippa, gay, silk-winding girl. I have kept her out of harm's way up to this present; for I always intended to make your life a plague to you with her. 'Tis as well settled once and forever. Some women I have 190 procured will pa.s.s Bluphocks, my handsome scoundrel, off for somebody; and once Pippa entangled!--you conceive? Through her singing? Is it a bargain?

[_From without is heard the voice of_ PIPPA, _singing._

_Overhead the tree-tops meet,_ _Flowers and gra.s.s spring 'neath one's feet;_ 195 _There was naught above me, naught below,_ _My childhood had not learned to know:_ _For, what are the voices of birds_ _--Aye, and of beasts--but words, our words,_ _Only so much more sweet?_ 200 _The knowledge of that with my life begun._ _But I had so near made out the sun,_ _And counted your stars, the seven and one;_ _Like the fingers of my hand:_ _Nay, I could all but understand_ 205 _Wherefore through heaven the white moon ranges;_ _And just when out of her soft fifty changes_ _No unfamiliar face might overlook me--_ _Suddenly G.o.d took me._

[PIPPA _pa.s.ses._

_Monsignor_ [_springing up_]. My people--one and 210 all--all-within there! Gag this villain--tie him hand and foot! He dares--I know not half he dares--but remove him--quick! _Miserere mei, Domine!_ Quick, I say!

SCENE.--PIPPA'S _chamber again. She enters it._

The bee with his comb, The mouse at her dray, The grub in his tomb, While winter away; But the firefly and hedge-shrew and lobworm, I pray, 5 How fare they?

Ha, ha, thanks for your counsel, my Zanze!

"Feast upon lampreys, quaff Breganze"-- The summer of life so easy to spend, And care for tomorrow so soon put away! 10 But winter hastens at summer's end, And firefly, hedge-shrew, lobworm, pray, How fare they?

No bidding me then to--what did Zanze say?

"Pare your nails pearlwise, get your small feet shoes 15 More like"--what said she?--"and less like canoes!"

How pert that girl was!--would I be those pert, Impudent, staring women! It had done me, However, surely no such mighty hurt To learn his name who pa.s.sed that jest upon me: 20 No foreigner, that I can recollect, Came, as she says, a month since, to inspect Our silk-mills--none with blue eyes and thick rings Of raw-silk-colored hair, at all events.

Well, if old Luca keep his good intents, 25 We shall do better, see what next year brings!

I may buy shoes, my Zanze, not appear More dest.i.tute than you perhaps next year!

Bluph--something! I had caught the uncouth name But for Monsignor's people's sudden clatter 30 Above us--bound to spoil such idle chatter As ours; it were indeed a serious matter If silly talk like ours should put to shame The pious man, the man devoid of blame, The--ah, but--ah, but, all the same, 35 No mere mortal has a right To carry that exalted air; Best people are not angels quite: While--not the worst of people's doings scare The devil; so there's that proud look to spare! 40 Which is mere counsel to myself, mind! for I have just been the holy Monsignor: And I was you too, Luigi's gentle mother, And you too, Luigi!--how that Luigi started Out of the turret--doubtlessly departed 45 On some good errand or another, For he pa.s.sed just now in a traveler's trim, And the sullen company that prowled About his path, I noticed, scowled As if they had lost a prey in him. 50 And I was Jules the sculptor's bride, And I was Ottima beside, And now what am I?--tired of fooling.

Day for folly, night for schooling!

New Year's day is over and spent, 55 Ill or well, I must be content.

Even my lily's asleep, I vow: Wake up--here's a friend I've plucked you!

Call this flower a heart's-ease now!

Something rare, let me instruct you, 60 Is this, with petals triply swollen, Three times spotted, thrice the pollen; While the leaves and parts that witness Old proportions and their fitness, Here remain unchanged, unmoved now; 65 Call this pampered thing improved now!

Suppose there's a king of the flowers And a girl-show held in his bowers-- "Look ye, buds, this growth of ours,"

Says he, "Zanze from the Brenta, 70 I have made her gorge polenta Till both cheeks are near as bouncing As her--name there's no p.r.o.nouncing!

See this heightened color too, For she swilled Breganze wine 75 Till her nose turned deep carmine; 'Twas but white when wild she grew.

And only by this Zanze's eyes Of which we could not change the size, The magnitude of all achieved 80 Otherwise, may be perceived."

Oh, what a drear, dark close to my poor day!

How could that red sun drop in that black cloud?

Ah, Pippa, morning's rule is moved away, Dispensed with, never more to be allowed! 85 Day's turn is over, now arrives the night's.

O lark, be day's apostle To mavis, merle, and throstle, Bid them their betters jostle From day and its delights! 90 But at night, brother owlet; over the woods, Toll the world to thy chantry; Sing to the bats' sleek sisterhoods Full complines with gallantry: Then, owls and bats, 95 Cowls and t.w.a.ts, Monks and nuns, in a cloister's moods, Adjourn to the oak-stump pantry!

[_After she has began to undress herself._ Now, one thing I should like to really know: How near I ever might approach all these 100 I only fancied being, this long day-- Approach, I mean, so as to touch them, so As to--in some way ... move them--if you please, Do good or evil to them some slight way.

For instance, if I wind 105 Silk tomorrow, my silk may bind [_Sitting on the bedside._ And border Ottima's cloak's hem.

Ah me, and my important part with them, This morning's hymn half promised when I rose!

True in some sense or other, I suppose. 110 [_As she lies down._ G.o.d bless me! I can pray no more tonight.

No doubt, some way or other, hymns say right.

_All service ranks the same with G.o.d--_ _With G.o.d, whose puppets, best and worst,_ _Are we; there is no last nor first._ 115