Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

  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,

  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, drink 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,

  Stans pede in uno: — you remember well

  In the one case, ‘tis 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 by my door,

  And that he so admired, shall I suppose,

  The manner of the swallows’ come-and-go

  Between the props o’ the window over-head, —

  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,

  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 off, clean thro’ bone,

  But one joint of one finger of my wife,

  Saying “For listening to the serenade,

  “Here’s your ring-finger shorter a full third:

  “Be certain I will 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 himself 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 effect 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?”

  The servants had been 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 recognises Caponsacchi there!” —

  (By this time the admiring neighbourhood

  Joined chorus round me while I rubbed my eyes)

  “‘Tis 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 villa, 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”�

  — ”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, — tesselated 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;

  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 Molinist with that! . . .

  Floundered thro’ 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 fell 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.

  ‘Twas dawn, the couple were rested in a sort,

  And though the lady, tired, — the tenderer sex, —

  Still lingered 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?

  Even the parties dared deny no one

  Point out of all 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 you, — somebody had stuck a sword

  “Beside you while he pushed you on your horse, —

  “‘Twas 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 shall 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, —

  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 called in law to act and help:

  Seeing I do so, “Why, ‘tis 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 recognise 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, with 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 all:

  Two avowed lovers forcibly torn apart,

  Upbraid the tyrant as in a playhouse scene,

  Ay, and with proper clapping and applause

  From the audience that enjoys the bold and free.

  I kept still, said to myself, “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 villa, 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, discolours 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 Duke,

  “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 ‘twixt pap and pap?”

  “Sir,” laughed the Lady “‘tis a counterfeit!

  “Thy page did never strok
e 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 of 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:

  Law renovates even Lazarus, — cures me!

  Cæsar thou seekest? To Cæsar thou shalt go!

  Cæsar’s at Rome; to Rome accordingly!

  The case was soon decided: both weights, cast

  I’ 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 all 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 life jeopardised;

  Concede him then the colour charity

  Casts on a doubtful course, — if blackish white

  Or whitish black, will 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 vapours 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 doctus and unblemished he abides.