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 Pompilia’s flight
“And deviation, and carnal intercourse
“With the same, do set aside and relegate
“The Canon Caponsacchi for three years
“At Civita in the neighbourhood of Rome:
“And we consign Pompilia 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! Read 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!
While 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’ll 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’ll gain you, that way, liberty at least,
“Sure of so much by law’s own showing. Up
“And off with you and your unluckiness —
“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: still —
“That was the bench they sat on, — there’s the board
“They took the meal at, — yonder garden-ground
“They leaned across the gate of,” — ever a word
O’ the Helen and the Paris, with “Ha! you’re he,
“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 . . . no word assists!
With the mother and the brothers, stiffened me
Strait 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.
Apologise 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 bed-post, — 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 harbour-boom by a great favouring 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 your noise, to Rome!”
Rome spoke.
In three months letters thence admonished me
“Your plan for the divorce is all mistake.
“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 for ever more.
“No whit to the purpose is your plea: you err
“I’ the person and the quality — nowise
“In the individual, — that’s the case in point!
“You 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 colour 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 neighbours’ watch
“Might incommode the freedom of your wife,
“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, little 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 wiser: but be that as it may,
“Do not afflict your brains with trifles now.
“You 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 . . .
“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 Briton 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 titillation 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,
(‘Twas 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 belike)
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, — ’tis 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
“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 baffled? — God’s decree,
“In which I, bowing bruised head, acquiesce.
“One of us Franceschini fell long since
“I’ 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 will 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, ‘tis 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 ‘twas 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 Rome. “All 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?
“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 time,
“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 till 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, — ’tis 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 wormed 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
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 three-fold 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 child —
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 ‘twere 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’s the priest’s bastard and none of mine!
Ay, there was cause for flight, swift flight and sure!
Robert Browning - Delphi Poets Series Page 99