Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series

by Robert Browning

  Rarely such a royal monster as I lodged the bullet in!

  True, he murdered half a village, so his own death came to pass;

  Still, for size and beauty, cunning, courage — ah, the brute he was!

  Why, that Clive, — that youth, that greenhorn, that quill-driving clerk, in fine, —

  He sustained a siege in Arcot. . . . But the world knows! Pass the wine. 40

  Where did I break off at? How bring Clive in? Oh, you mentioned “fear”!

  Just so: and, said I, that minds me of a story you shall hear.

  We were friends then, Clive and I: so, when the clouds, about the orb

  Late supreme, encroaching slowly, surely, threatened to absorb

  Ray by ray its noontide brilliance, — friendship might, with steadier eye

  Drawing near, bear what had burned else, now no blaze — all majesty.

  Too much bee’s-wing floats my figure? Well, suppose a castle’s new:

  None presume to climb its ramparts, none find foothold sure for shoe

  ‘Twixt those squares and squares of granite plating the impervious pile

  As his scale-mail’s warty iron cuirasses a crocodile. 50

  Reels that castle thunder-smitten, storm-dismantled? From without

  Scrambling up by crack and crevice, every cockney prates about

  Towers — the heap he kicks now! turrets — just the measure of his cane!

  Will that do? Observe moreover — (same similitude again) —

  Such a castle seldom crumbles by sheer stress of cannonade:

  ‘T is when foes are foiled and fighting’s finished that vile rains invade,

  Grass o’ergrows, o’ergrows till night-birds congregating find no holes

  Fit to build in like the topmost sockets made for banner-poles.

  So Clive crumbled slow in London — crashed at last.

  A week before,

  Dining with him, — after trying churchyard-chat of days of yore, — 60

  Both of us stopped, tired as tombstones, head-piece, foot-piece, when they lean

  Each to other, drowsed in fog-smoke, o’er a coffined Past between.

  As I saw his head sink heavy, guessed the soul’s extinguishment

  By the glazing eyeball, noticed how the furtive fingers went

  Where a drug-box skulked behind the honest liquor, — ”One more throw

  Try for Clive!” thought I: “Let’s venture some good rattling question!” So —

  “Come Clive, tell us” — out I blurted — ”what to tell in turn, years hence,

  When my boy — suppose I have one — asks me on what evidence

  I maintain my friend of Plassy proved a warrior every whit

  Worth your Alexanders, Cæsars, Marlboroughs and — what said Pitt? — 70

  Frederick the Fierce himself! Clive told me once” — I want to say —

  “Which feat out of all those famous doings bore the bell away

  — In his own calm estimation, mark you, not the mob’s rough guess —

  Which stood foremost as evincing what Clive called courageousness!

  Come! what moment of the minute, what speck-centre in the wide

  Circle of the action saw your mortal fairly deified?

  (Let alone that filthy sleep-stuff, swallow bold this wholesome Port!)

  If a friend has leave to question, — when were you most brave, in short?”

  Up he arched his brows o’ the instant — formidably Clive again.

  “When was I most brave? I’d answer, were the instance half as plain 80

  As another instance that’s a brain-lodged crystal — curse it! — here

  Freezing when my memory touches — ugh! — the time I felt most fear.

  Ugh! I cannot say for certain if I showed fear — anyhow,

  Fear I felt, and, very likely, shuddered, since I shiver now.”

  “Fear!” smiled I. “Well, that’s the rarer: that’s a specimen to seek,

  Ticket up in one’s museum, Mind-Freaks, Lord Clive’s Fear, Unique!”

  Down his brows dropped. On the table painfully he pored as though

  Tracing, in the stains and streaks there, thoughts encrusted long ago.

  When he spoke ‘t was like a lawyer reading word by word some will,

  Some blind jungle of a statement, — beating on and on until 90

  Out there leaps fierce life to fight with.

  ”This fell in my factor-days.

  Desk-drudge, slaving at St. David’s, one must game, or drink, or craze.

  I chose gaming: and, — because your high-flown gamesters hardly take

  Umbrage at a factor’s elbow if the factor pays his stake, —

  I was winked at in a circle where the company was choice,

  Captain This and Major That, men high of colour, loud of voice,

  Yet indulgent, condescending to the modest juvenile

  Who not merely risked but lost his hard-earned guineas with a smile.

  “Down I sat to cards, one evening, — had for my antagonist

  Somebody whose name’s a secret — you’ll know why — so, if you list, 100

  Call him Cock o’ the Walk, my scarlet son of Mars from head to heel!

  Play commenced: and, whether Cocky fancied that a clerk must feel

  Quite sufficient honour came of bending over one green baize,

  I the scribe with him the warrior, — guessed no penman dared to raise

  Shadow of objection should the honour stay but playing end

  More or less abruptly, — whether disinclined he grew to spend

  Practice strictly scientific on a booby born to stare

  At — not ask of — lace-and-ruffles if the hand they hide plays fair, —

  Anyhow, I marked a movement when he bade me ‘Cut!’

  ”I rose.

  ‘Such the new manœuvre, Captain? I’m a novice: knowledge grows. 110

  What, you force a card, you cheat, Sir?’

  ”Never did a thunder-clap

  Cause emotion, startle Thyrsis locked with Chloe in his lap,

  As my word and gesture (down I flung my cards to join the pack)

  Fired the man of arms, whose visage, simply red before, turned black.

  “When he found his voice, he stammered ‘That expression once again!’

  “ ‘Well, you forced a card and cheated!’

  ” ‘Possibly a factor’s brain,

  Busied with his all-important balance of accounts, may deem

  Weighing words superfluous trouble: cheat to clerkly ears may seem

  Just the joke for friends to venture: but we are not friends, you see!

  When a gentleman is joked with, — if he’s good at repartee, 120

  He rejoins, as I do — Sirrah, on your knees, withdraw in full!

  Beg my pardon, or be sure a kindly bullet through your skull

  Lets in light and teaches manners to what brain it finds! Choose quick —

  Have your life snuffed out or, kneeling, pray me trim yon candle-wick!’

  “ ‘Well, you cheated!’

  ”Then outbroke a howl from all the friends around.

  To his feet sprang each in fury, lists were clenched and teeth were ground.

  ‘End it! no time like the present! Captain, yours were our disgrace!

  No delay, begin and finish! Stand back, leave the pair a space!

  Let civilians be instructed: henceforth simply ply the pen,

  Fly the sword! This clerk’s no swordsman? Suit him with a pistol, then! 130

  Even odds! A dozen paces ‘twixt the most and least expert

  Make a dwarf a giant’s equal: nay, the dwarf, if he’s alert,

  Likelier hits the broader target!’

  “Up we stood accordingly.

  As they handed me the weapon, such was my soul’s thirst to try

  Then and there conclusions with this bully, tread on and stamp out

  Every spark of his existence, that, — crept close to
, curled about

  By that toying tempting teasing fool-forefinger’s middle joint, —

  Don’t you guess? — the trigger yielded. Gone my chance! and at the point

  Of such prime success moreover: scarce an inch above his head

  Went my ball to hit the wainscot. He was living, I was dead. 140

  “Up he marched in flaming triumph — ’t was his right, mind! up, within

  Just an arm’s length. ‘Now, my clerkling,’ chuckled Cocky with a grin

  As the levelled piece quite touched me, ‘Now, Sir Counting-House, repeat

  That expression which I told you proved had manners! Did I cheat?’

  “ ‘Cheat you did, you knew you cheated, and, this moment, know as well.

  As for me, my homely breeding bids you — fire and go to Hell!’

  “Twice the muzzle touched my forehead. Heavy barrel, flurried wrist,

  Either spoils a steady lifting. Thrice: then, ‘Laugh at Hell who list,

  I can’t! God’s no fable either. Did this boy’s eye wink once? No!

  There’s no standing him and Hell and God all three against me, — so, 150

  I did cheat!’

  ”And down he threw the pistol, out rushed — by the door

  Possibly, but, as for knowledge if by chimney, roof or floor,

  He effected disappearance — I’ll engage no glance was sent

  That way by a single starer, such a blank astonishment

  Swallowed up the senses: as for speaking — mute they stood as mice.

  “Mute not long, though! Such reaction, such a hubbub in a trice!

  ‘Rogue and rascal! Who’d have thought it? What’s to be expected next,

  When His Majesty’s Commission serves a sharper as pretext

  For . . . But where ‘s the need of wasting time now? Naught requires delay:

  Punishment the Service cries for: let disgrace be wiped away 160

  Publicly, in good broad daylight! Resignation? No, indeed!

  Drum and fife must play the Rogue’s March, rank and file be free to speed

  Tardy marching on the rogue’s part by appliance in the rear

  — Kicks administered shall right this wronged civilian, — never fear,

  Mister Clive, for — though a clerk — you bore yourself — suppose we say —

  Just as would beseem a soldier!’

  ” ‘Gentlemen, attention — pray!

  First, one word!’

  ”I passed each speaker severally in review.

  When I had precise their number, names and styles, and fully knew

  Over whom my supervision thenceforth must extend, — why, then —

  “ ‘Some five minutes since, my life lay — as you all saw, gentlemen — 170

  At the mercy of your friend there. Not a single voice was raised

  In arrest of judgment, not one tongue — before my powder blazed —

  Ventured “Can it be the youngster blundered, really seemed to mark

  Some irregular proceeding? We conjecture in the dark,

  Guess at random, — still, for sake of fair play — what if for a freak,

  In a fit of absence, — such things have been! — if our friend proved weak

  — What’s the phrase? — corrected fortune! Look into the case, at least!”

  Who dared interpose between the altar’s victim and the priest?

  Yet he spared me! You eleven! Whosoever, all or each,

  To the disadvantage of the man who spared me, utters speech 180

  — To his face, behind his back, — that speaker has to do with me:

  Me who promise, if positions change and mine the chance should be,

  Not to imitate your friend and waive advantage!’

  ”Twenty-five

  Years ago this matter happened: and ‘t is certain,” added Clive,

  “Never, to my knowledge, did Sir Cocky have a single breath

  Breathed against him: lips were closed throughout his life, or since his death,

  For if he be dead or living I can tell no more than you.

  All I know is — Cocky had one chance more; how he used it, — grew

  Out of such unlucky habits, or relapsed, and back again

  Brought the late-ejected devil with a score more in his train, — 190

  That’s for you to judge. Reprieval I procured, at any rate.

  Ugh — the memory of that minute’s fear makes gooseflesh rise! Why prate

  Longer? You’ve my story, there’s your instance: fear I did, you see!”

  “Well” — I hardly kept from laughing — ”if I see it, thanks must be

  Wholly to your Lordship’s candour. Not that — in a common case —

  When a bully caught at cheating thrusts a pistol in one’s face,

  I should under-rate, believe me, such a trial to the nerve!

  ‘T is no joke, at one-and-twenty, for a youth to stand nor swerve.

  Fear 1 naturally look for — unless, of all men alive,

  I am forced to make exception when I come to Robert Clive. 200

  Since at Arcot, Plassy, elsewhere, he and death — the whole world knows —

  Came to somewhat closer quarters.” Quarters? Had we come to blows,

  Clive and I, you had not wondered — up he sprang so, out he rapped

  Such a round of oaths — no matter! I’ll endeavour to adapt

  To our modern usage words he — well, ‘t was friendly licence — flung

  At me like so many fire-balls, fast as he could wag his tongue.

  “You — a soldier? You — at Plassy? Yours the faculty to nick

  Instantaneously occasion when your foe, if lightning-quick,

  — At his mercy, at his malice, — has you, through some stupid inch

  Undefended in your bulwark? Thus laid open, — not to flinch 210

  — That needs courage, you’ll concede me. Then, look here! Suppose the man,

  Checking his advance, his weapon still extended, not a span

  Distant from my temple, — curse him! — quietly had bade me, ‘There!

  Keep your life, calumniator! — worthless life I freely spare:

  Mine you freely would have taken — murdered me and my good fame

  Both at once — and all the better! Go, and thank your own bad aim

  Which permits me to forgive you!’ What if, with such words as these,

  He had cast away his weapon? How should I have borne me, please?

  Nay, I’ll spare you pains and tell you. This, and only this, remained —

  Pick his weapon up and use it on myself. I so had gained 220

  Sleep the earlier, leaving England probably to pay on still

  Rent and taxes for half India, tenant at the Frenchman’s will.”

  “Such the turn,” said I, “the matter takes with you? Then I abate

  — No, by not one jot nor tittle, — of your act my estimate.

  Fear — I wish I could detect there: courage fronts me, plain enough —

  Call it desperation, madness — never mind! for here’s in rough

  Why, had mine been such a trial, fear had overcome disgrace.

  True, disgrace were hard to bear: but such a rush against God’s face

  — None of that for me, Lord Plassy, since I go to church at times,

  Say the creed my mother taught me! Many years in foreign climes 230

  Rub some marks away — not all, though! We poor sinners reach life’s brink,

  Overlook what rolls beneath it, recklessly enough, but think

  There’s advantage in what’s left us — ground to stand on, time to call

  ‘Lord, have mercy!’ ere we topple over — do not leap, that’s all!”

  Oh, he made no answer, — re-absorbed into his cloud. I caught

  Something like “Yes — courage: only fools will call it fear.”

  If aught

  Comfort you, my great unhappy hero Clive, in that I heard,

  Next week,
how your own hand dealt you doom, and uttered just the word

  “Fearfully courageous!” — this, be sure, and nothing else I groaned.

  I’m no Clive, nor parson either: Clive’s worst deed — we’ll hope condoned. 240

  Muléykeh

  If a stranger passed the tent of Hóseyn, he cried “A churl’s!”

  Or haply “God help the man who has neither salt nor bread!”

  — ”Nay,” would a friend exclaim, “he needs nor pity nor scorn

  More than who spends small thought on the shore-sand, picking pearls,

  — Holds but in light esteem the seed-sort, bears instead

  On his breast a moon-like prize, some orb which of night makes morn.

  “What if no flocks and herds enrich the son of Sinán?

  They went when his tribe was mulct, ten thousand camels the due,

  Blood-value paid perforce for a murder done of old.

  ‘God gave them, let them go! But never since time began,

  Muléykeh, peerless mare, owned master the match of you,

  And you are my prize, my Pearl: I laugh at men’s land and gold!’

  “So in the pride of his soul laughs Hóseyn — and right, I say.

  Do the ten steeds run a race of glory? Outstripping all,

  Ever Muléykeh stands first steed at the victor’s staff.

  Who started, the owner’s hope, gets shamed and named, that day.

  ‘Silence,’ or, last but one, is ‘The Cuffed,’ as we use to call

  Whom the paddock’s lord thrusts forth. Right, Hóseyn, I say, to laugh!”

  “Boasts he Muléykeh the Pearl? “ the stranger replies: “Be sure

  On him I waste nor scorn nor pity, but lavish both

  On Duhl the son of Sheybán, who withers away in heart

  For envy of Hóseyn’s luck. Such sickness admits no cure.

  A certain poet has sung, and sealed the same with an oath,

  ‘For the vulgar — flocks and herds! The Pearl is a prize apart.’ “

  Lo, Duhl the son of Sheybán comes riding to Hóseyn’s tent,

  And he casts his saddle down, and enters and “Peace!” bids he.

  “You are poor, I know the cause: my plenty shall mend the wrong.

  ‘T is said of your Pearl — the price of a hundred camels spent

  In her purchase were scarce ill paid: such prudence is far from me

  Who proffer a thousand. Speak! Long parley may last too long.”

  Said Hóseyn, “You feed young beasts a many, of famous breed,

  Slit-eared, unblemished, fat, true offspring of Múzennem: