1st Student. Attention! My own post is beneath this
window, but the pomegranate clump yonder will hide three
or four of you with a little squeezing, and Schramm and
his pipe must lie flat in the balcony. Four, five—who's a
defaulter? We want everybody, for Jules must not be5
suffered to hurt his bride when the jest's found out.
window, but the pomegranate clump yonder will hide three
or four of you with a little squeezing, and Schramm and
his pipe must lie flat in the balcony. Four, five—who's a
defaulter? We want everybody, for Jules must not be5
suffered to hurt his bride when the jest's found out.
2nd Student. All here! Only our poet's away—never
having much meant to be present, moonstrike him! The
airs of that fellow, that Giovacchino! He was in violent
love with himself, and had a fair prospect of thriving in10
his suit, so unmolested was it—when suddenly a woman
falls in love with him, too; and out of pure jealousy he
takes himself off to Trieste, immortal poem and all—whereto
is this prophetical epitaph appended already, as
Bluphocks assures me—"Here a mammoth-poem lies,15
Fouled to death by butterflies." His own fault, the
simpleton! Instead of cramp couplets, each like a knife
in your entrails, he should write, says Bluphocks, both
classically and intelligibly.—Æsculapius, an Epic. Catalogue
of the drugs: Hebe's plaister—One strip Cools20
your lip. Phœbus's emulsion—One bottle Clears your
throttle. Mercury's bolus—One box Cures—
having much meant to be present, moonstrike him! The
airs of that fellow, that Giovacchino! He was in violent
love with himself, and had a fair prospect of thriving in10
his suit, so unmolested was it—when suddenly a woman
falls in love with him, too; and out of pure jealousy he
takes himself off to Trieste, immortal poem and all—whereto
is this prophetical epitaph appended already, as
Bluphocks assures me—"Here a mammoth-poem lies,15
Fouled to death by butterflies." His own fault, the
simpleton! Instead of cramp couplets, each like a knife
in your entrails, he should write, says Bluphocks, both
classically and intelligibly.—Æsculapius, an Epic. Catalogue
of the drugs: Hebe's plaister—One strip Cools20
your lip. Phœbus's emulsion—One bottle Clears your
throttle. Mercury's bolus—One box Cures—
3rd Student. Subside, my fine fellow! If the marriage
was over by ten o'clock, Jules will certainly be here
in a minute with his bride.25
was over by ten o'clock, Jules will certainly be here
in a minute with his bride.25
2nd Student. Good!—Only, so should the poet's muse
have been universally acceptable, says Bluphocks, et
canibus nostris—and Delia not better known to our
literary dogs than the boy Giovacchino!
have been universally acceptable, says Bluphocks, et
canibus nostris—and Delia not better known to our
literary dogs than the boy Giovacchino!
1st Student. To the point now. Where's Gottlieb,30
the new-comer? Oh—listen, Gottlieb, to what has called
down this piece of friendly vengeance on Jules, of which
we now assemble to witness the winding-up. We are all
agreed, all in a tale, observe, when Jules shall burst out
on us in a fury by and by: I am spokesman—the verses35
that are to undeceive Jules bear my name of Lutwyche—but
each professes himself alike insulted by this strutting
stone-squarer, who came alone from Paris to Munich,
and thence with a crowd of us to Venice and Possagno
here, but proceeds in a day or two alone again—oh, alone40
indubitably!—to Rome and Florence. He, forsooth, take
up his portion with these dissolute, brutalized, heartless
bunglers!—so he was heard to call us all: now, is Schramm
brutalized, I should like to know? Am I heartless?
the new-comer? Oh—listen, Gottlieb, to what has called
down this piece of friendly vengeance on Jules, of which
we now assemble to witness the winding-up. We are all
agreed, all in a tale, observe, when Jules shall burst out
on us in a fury by and by: I am spokesman—the verses35
that are to undeceive Jules bear my name of Lutwyche—but
each professes himself alike insulted by this strutting
stone-squarer, who came alone from Paris to Munich,
and thence with a crowd of us to Venice and Possagno
here, but proceeds in a day or two alone again—oh, alone40
indubitably!—to Rome and Florence. He, forsooth, take
up his portion with these dissolute, brutalized, heartless
bunglers!—so he was heard to call us all: now, is Schramm
brutalized, I should like to know? Am I heartless?
Gottlieb. Why, somewhat heartless; for, suppose Jules45
a coxcomb as much as you choose, still, for this mere
coxcombry, you will have brushed off—what do folks
style it?—the bloom of his life.
a coxcomb as much as you choose, still, for this mere
coxcombry, you will have brushed off—what do folks
style it?—the bloom of his life.
Is it too late to alter? These love-letters now, you
call his—I can't laugh at them.50
call his—I can't laugh at them.50
4th Student. Because you never read the sham letters
of our inditing which drew forth these.
of our inditing which drew forth these.
4th Student. That's the joke. But you should have
joined us at the beginning; there's no doubt he loves the55
girl—loves a model he might hire by the hour!
joined us at the beginning; there's no doubt he loves the55
girl—loves a model he might hire by the hour!
Gottlieb. See here! "He has been accustomed," he
writes, "to have Canova's women about him, in stone,
and the world's women beside him, in flesh; these being
as much below, as those above, his soul's aspiration;60
but now he is to have the reality." There you laugh
again! I say, you wipe off the very dew of his youth.
writes, "to have Canova's women about him, in stone,
and the world's women beside him, in flesh; these being
as much below, as those above, his soul's aspiration;60
but now he is to have the reality." There you laugh
again! I say, you wipe off the very dew of his youth.
1st Student. Schramm! (Take the pipe out of his
mouth, somebody!) Will Jules lose the bloom of his youth?65
mouth, somebody!) Will Jules lose the bloom of his youth?65
Schramm. Nothing worth keeping is ever lost in this
world: look at a blossom—it drops presently, having done
its service and lasted its time; but fruits succeed, and
where would be the blossom's place could it continue?
As well affirm that your eye is no longer in your body,70
because its earliest favorite, whatever it may have first
loved to look on, is dead and done with—as that any affection
is lost to the soul when its first object, whatever
happened first to satisfy it, is superseded in due course.
Keep but ever looking, whether with the body's eye or the75
mind's, and you will soon find something to look on! Has
a man done wondering at women?—there follow men,
dead and alive, to wonder at. Has he done wondering at
men?—there's God to wonder at; and the faculty of wonder
may be, at the same time, old and tired enough with80
respect to its first object, and yet young and fresh sufficiently,
so far as concerns its novel one. Thus—
world: look at a blossom—it drops presently, having done
its service and lasted its time; but fruits succeed, and
where would be the blossom's place could it continue?
As well affirm that your eye is no longer in your body,70
because its earliest favorite, whatever it may have first
loved to look on, is dead and done with—as that any affection
is lost to the soul when its first object, whatever
happened first to satisfy it, is superseded in due course.
Keep but ever looking, whether with the body's eye or the75
mind's, and you will soon find something to look on! Has
a man done wondering at women?—there follow men,
dead and alive, to wonder at. Has he done wondering at
men?—there's God to wonder at; and the faculty of wonder
may be, at the same time, old and tired enough with80
respect to its first object, and yet young and fresh sufficiently,
so far as concerns its novel one. Thus—
1st Student. Put Schramm's pipe into his mouth again!
There you see! Well, this Jules—a wretched fribble
—oh, I watched his disportings at Possagno, the other85
day! Canova's gallery—you know: there he marches first
resolvedly past great works by the dozen without vouchsafing
an eye; all at once he stops full at the Psiche-fanciulla—cannot
pass that old acquaintance without a
nod of encouragement—"In your new place, beauty?90
Then behave yourself as well here as at Munich—I see
you!" Next he posts himself deliberately before the unfinished
Pietà for half an hour without moving, till up he
starts of a sudden, and thrusts his very nose into—I say,
into—the group; by which gesture you are informed that95
precisely the sole point he had not fully mastered in
Canova's practice was a certain method of using the drill
in the articulation of the knee-joint—and that, likewise,
has he mastered at length! Good-by, therefore, to poor
Canova—whose gallery no longer needs detain his successor100
Jules, the predestinated novel thinker in marble!
There you see! Well, this Jules—a wretched fribble
—oh, I watched his disportings at Possagno, the other85
day! Canova's gallery—you know: there he marches first
resolvedly past great works by the dozen without vouchsafing
an eye; all at once he stops full at the Psiche-fanciulla—cannot
pass that old acquaintance without a
nod of encouragement—"In your new place, beauty?90
Then behave yourself as well here as at Munich—I see
you!" Next he posts himself deliberately before the unfinished
Pietà for half an hour without moving, till up he
starts of a sudden, and thrusts his very nose into—I say,
into—the group; by which gesture you are informed that95
precisely the sole point he had not fully mastered in
Canova's practice was a certain method of using the drill
in the articulation of the knee-joint—and that, likewise,
has he mastered at length! Good-by, therefore, to poor
Canova—whose gallery no longer needs detain his successor100
Jules, the predestinated novel thinker in marble!
5th Student. Tell him about the women; go on to the
women!
women!
1st Student. Why, on that matter he could never be
supercilious enough. How should we be other (he said)105
than the poor devils you see, with those debasing habits we
cherish? He was not to wallow in that mire, at least;
he would wait, and love only at the proper time, and
meanwhile put up with the Psiche-fanciulla. Now, I
happened to hear of a young Greek—real Greek girl at110
Malamocco; a true Islander, do you see, with Alciphron's
"hair like sea-moss"—Schramm knows!—white and quiet
as an apparition, and fourteen years old at farthest—a
daughter of Natalia, so she swears—that hag Natalia, who
helps us to models at three lire an hour. We selected115
this girl for the heroine of our jest. So first, Jules received
a scented letter—somebody had seen his Tydeus at the
Academy, and my picture was nothing to it: a profound
admirer bade him persevere—would make herself known to him
ere long. (Paolina, my little friend of the Fenice,120
transcribes divinely.) And in due time, the mysterious
correspondent gave certain hints of her peculiar charms—the
pale cheeks, the black hair—whatever, in short, had
struck us in our Malamocco model: we retained her name,
too—Phene, which is, by interpretation, sea-eagle. Now,125
think of Jules finding himself distinguished from the
herd of us by such a creature! In his very first answer
he proposed marrying his monitress: and fancy us over
these letters, two, three times a day, to receive and
dispatch! I concocted the main of it: relations were in130
the way—secrecy must be observed—in fine, would he
wed her on trust, and only speak to her when they were
indissolubly united? St—st—Here they come!
supercilious enough. How should we be other (he said)105
than the poor devils you see, with those debasing habits we
cherish? He was not to wallow in that mire, at least;
he would wait, and love only at the proper time, and
meanwhile put up with the Psiche-fanciulla. Now, I
happened to hear of a young Greek—real Greek girl at110
Malamocco; a true Islander, do you see, with Alciphron's
"hair like sea-moss"—Schramm knows!—white and quiet
as an apparition, and fourteen years old at farthest—a
daughter of Natalia, so she swears—that hag Natalia, who
helps us to models at three lire an hour. We selected115
this girl for the heroine of our jest. So first, Jules received
a scented letter—somebody had seen his Tydeus at the
Academy, and my picture was nothing to it: a profound
admirer bade him persevere—would make herself known to him
ere long. (Paolina, my little friend of the Fenice,120
transcribes divinely.) And in due time, the mysterious
correspondent gave certain hints of her peculiar charms—the
pale cheeks, the black hair—whatever, in short, had
struck us in our Malamocco model: we retained her name,
too—Phene, which is, by interpretation, sea-eagle. Now,125
think of Jules finding himself distinguished from the
herd of us by such a creature! In his very first answer
he proposed marrying his monitress: and fancy us over
these letters, two, three times a day, to receive and
dispatch! I concocted the main of it: relations were in130
the way—secrecy must be observed—in fine, would he
wed her on trust, and only speak to her when they were
indissolubly united? St—st—Here they come!
6th Student. Both of them! Heaven's love, speak
softly, speak within yourselves!135
softly, speak within yourselves!135
5th Student. Look at the bridegroom! Half his hair
in storm and half in calm—patted down over the left
temple—like a frothy cup one blows on to cool it! and
the same old blouse that he murders the marble in!
in storm and half in calm—patted down over the left
temple—like a frothy cup one blows on to cool it! and
the same old blouse that he murders the marble in!
2nd Student. Not a rich vest like yours, Hannibal140
Scratchy!—rich, that your face may the better set it off.
Scratchy!—rich, that your face may the better set it off.
6th Student. And the bride! Yes, sure enough, our
Phene! Should you have known her in her clothes?
How magnificently pale!
Phene! Should you have known her in her clothes?
How magnificently pale!
1st Student. Oh, Natalia's concern, that is! We settle
with Natalia.
with Natalia.
6th Student. She does not speak—has evidently let
out no word. The only thing is, will she equally remember150
the rest of her lesson, and repeat correctly all those
verses which are to break the secret to Jules?
out no word. The only thing is, will she equally remember150
the rest of her lesson, and repeat correctly all those
verses which are to break the secret to Jules?
Gottlieb. How he gazes on her! Pity—pity!
1st Student. They go in; now, silence! You three—not
nearer the window, mind, than that pomegranate—just155
where the little girl, who a few minutes ago passed
us singing, is seated!
nearer the window, mind, than that pomegranate—just155
where the little girl, who a few minutes ago passed
us singing, is seated!
II.—NOON
Scene—Over Orcana. The house of Jules, who crosses its threshold with Phene: she is silent, on which Jules begins—
Do not die, Phene! I am yours now, you
Are mine now; let fate reach me how she likes,
If you'll not die: so, never die! Sit here—
My workroom's single seat. I over-lean
This length of hair and lustrous front; they turn5
Like an entire flower upward: eyes, lips, last
Your chin—no, last your throat turns: 'tis their scent
Pulls down my face upon you. Nay, look ever
This one way till I change, grow you—I could
Change into you, beloved!
You by me,10
And I by you; this is your hand in mine,
And side by side we sit: all's true. Thank God!
I have spoken: speak you!
O my life to come!
My Tydeus must be carved that's there in clay;
Yet how be carved, with you about the room?15
Where must I place you? When I think that once
This roomfull of rough block-work seemed my heaven
Without you! Shall I ever work again,
Get fairly into my old ways again,
Bid each conception stand while, trait by trait,20
My hand transfers its lineaments to stone?
Will my mere fancies live near you, their truth—
The live truth, passing and repassing me,
Sitting beside me?
Now speak!
Only first,
See, all your letters! Was't not well contrived?25
Their hiding-place is Psyche's robe; she keeps
Your letters next her skin: which drops out foremost?
Ah—this that swam down like a first moonbeam
Into my world!
Again those eyes complete
Their melancholy survey, sweet and slow,30
Of beauty—to the human archetype.
On me, with pity, yet some wonder too:
As if God bade some spirit plague a world,
And this were the one moment of surprise
And sorrow while she took her station, pausing35
O'er what she sees, finds good, and must destroy!
What gaze you at? Those? Books, I told you of;
Let your first word to me rejoice them, too:
This minion, a Coluthus, writ in red
Bister and azure by Bessarion's scribe—40
Read this line—no, shame—Homer's be the Greek
First breathed me from the lips of my Greek girl!
This Odyssey in coarse black vivid type
With faded yellow blossoms 'twixt page and page,
To mark great places with due gratitude;45
"He said, and on Antinous directed
A bitter shaft"—a flower blots out the rest!
Again upon your search? My statues, then!
—Ah, do not mind that—better that will look
When cast in bronze—an Almaign Kaiser, that,50
Swart-green and gold, with truncheon based on hip.
This, rather, turn to! What, unrecognized?
I thought you would have seen that here you sit
As I imagined you—Hippolyta,
Naked upon her bright Numidian horse.55
Recall you this, then? "Carve in bold relief"—
So you commanded—"carve, against I come,
A Greek, in Athens, as our fashion was,
Feasting, bay-filleted and thunder-free,
Who rises 'neath the lifted myrtle-branch.60
'Praise Those who slew Hipparchus!' cry the guests,
'While o'er thy head the singer's myrtle waves
As erst above our champion: stand up all!'"
See, I have labored to express your thought.
Quite round, a cluster of mere hands and arms,65
(Thrust in all senses, all ways, from all sides,
Only consenting at the branch's end
They strain toward) serves for frame to a sole face,
The Praiser's, in the center: who with eyes
Sightless, so bend they back to light inside70
His brain where visionary forms throng up,
Sings, minding not that palpitating arch
Of hands and arms, nor the quick drip of wine
From the drenched leaves o'erhead, nor crowns cast off,
Violet and parsley crowns to trample on—75
Sings, pausing as the patron-ghosts approve,
Devoutly their unconquerable hymn.
But you must say a "well" to that—say "well!"
Because you gaze—am I fantastic, sweet?
Gaze like my very life's-stuff, marble—marbly80
Even to the silence! Why, before I found
The real flesh Phene, I inured myself
To see, throughout all nature, varied stuff
For better nature's birth by means of art:
With me, each substance tended to one form85
Of beauty—to the human archetype.
On every side occurred suggestive germs
Of that—the tree, the flower—or take the fruit—
Some rosy shape, continuing the peach,
Curved beewise o'er its bough; as rosy limbs,90
Depending, nestled in the leaves; and just
From a cleft rose-peach the whole Dryad sprang.
But of the stuffs one can be master of,
How I divined their capabilities!
From the soft-rinded smoothening facile chalk95
That yields your outline to the air's embrace,
Half-softened by a halo's pearly gloom;
Down to the crisp imperious steel, so sure
To cut its one confided thought clean out
Of all the world. But marble!—'neath my tools100
More pliable than jelly—as it were
Some clear primordial creature dug from depths
In the earth's heart, where itself breeds itself,
And whence all baser substance may be worked;
Refine it off to air, you may—condense it105
Down to the diamond—is not metal there,
When o'er the sudden speck my chisel trips?
—Not flesh, as flake off flake I scale, approach,
Lay bare those bluish veins of blood asleep?
Lurks flame in no strange windings where, surprised110
By the swift implement sent home at once,
Flushes and glowings radiate and hover
About its track?
Phene? what—why is this?
That whitening cheek, those still dilating eyes!
Ah, you will die—I knew that you would die!115
Are mine now; let fate reach me how she likes,
If you'll not die: so, never die! Sit here—
My workroom's single seat. I over-lean
This length of hair and lustrous front; they turn5
Like an entire flower upward: eyes, lips, last
Your chin—no, last your throat turns: 'tis their scent
Pulls down my face upon you. Nay, look ever
This one way till I change, grow you—I could
Change into you, beloved!
You by me,10
And I by you; this is your hand in mine,
And side by side we sit: all's true. Thank God!
I have spoken: speak you!
O my life to come!
My Tydeus must be carved that's there in clay;
Yet how be carved, with you about the room?15
Where must I place you? When I think that once
This roomfull of rough block-work seemed my heaven
Without you! Shall I ever work again,
Get fairly into my old ways again,
Bid each conception stand while, trait by trait,20
My hand transfers its lineaments to stone?
Will my mere fancies live near you, their truth—
The live truth, passing and repassing me,
Sitting beside me?
Now speak!
Only first,
See, all your letters! Was't not well contrived?25
Their hiding-place is Psyche's robe; she keeps
Your letters next her skin: which drops out foremost?
Ah—this that swam down like a first moonbeam
Into my world!
Again those eyes complete
Their melancholy survey, sweet and slow,30
Of beauty—to the human archetype.
On me, with pity, yet some wonder too:
As if God bade some spirit plague a world,
And this were the one moment of surprise
And sorrow while she took her station, pausing35
O'er what she sees, finds good, and must destroy!
What gaze you at? Those? Books, I told you of;
Let your first word to me rejoice them, too:
This minion, a Coluthus, writ in red
Bister and azure by Bessarion's scribe—40
Read this line—no, shame—Homer's be the Greek
First breathed me from the lips of my Greek girl!
This Odyssey in coarse black vivid type
With faded yellow blossoms 'twixt page and page,
To mark great places with due gratitude;45
"He said, and on Antinous directed
A bitter shaft"—a flower blots out the rest!
Again upon your search? My statues, then!
—Ah, do not mind that—better that will look
When cast in bronze—an Almaign Kaiser, that,50
Swart-green and gold, with truncheon based on hip.
This, rather, turn to! What, unrecognized?
I thought you would have seen that here you sit
As I imagined you—Hippolyta,
Naked upon her bright Numidian horse.55
Recall you this, then? "Carve in bold relief"—
So you commanded—"carve, against I come,
A Greek, in Athens, as our fashion was,
Feasting, bay-filleted and thunder-free,
Who rises 'neath the lifted myrtle-branch.60
'Praise Those who slew Hipparchus!' cry the guests,
'While o'er thy head the singer's myrtle waves
As erst above our champion: stand up all!'"
See, I have labored to express your thought.
Quite round, a cluster of mere hands and arms,65
(Thrust in all senses, all ways, from all sides,
Only consenting at the branch's end
They strain toward) serves for frame to a sole face,
The Praiser's, in the center: who with eyes
Sightless, so bend they back to light inside70
His brain where visionary forms throng up,
Sings, minding not that palpitating arch
Of hands and arms, nor the quick drip of wine
From the drenched leaves o'erhead, nor crowns cast off,
Violet and parsley crowns to trample on—75
Sings, pausing as the patron-ghosts approve,
Devoutly their unconquerable hymn.
But you must say a "well" to that—say "well!"
Because you gaze—am I fantastic, sweet?
Gaze like my very life's-stuff, marble—marbly80
Even to the silence! Why, before I found
The real flesh Phene, I inured myself
To see, throughout all nature, varied stuff
For better nature's birth by means of art:
With me, each substance tended to one form85
Of beauty—to the human archetype.
On every side occurred suggestive germs
Of that—the tree, the flower—or take the fruit—
Some rosy shape, continuing the peach,
Curved beewise o'er its bough; as rosy limbs,90
Depending, nestled in the leaves; and just
From a cleft rose-peach the whole Dryad sprang.
But of the stuffs one can be master of,
How I divined their capabilities!
From the soft-rinded smoothening facile chalk95
That yields your outline to the air's embrace,
Half-softened by a halo's pearly gloom;
Down to the crisp imperious steel, so sure
To cut its one confided thought clean out
Of all the world. But marble!—'neath my tools100
More pliable than jelly—as it were
Some clear primordial creature dug from depths
In the earth's heart, where itself breeds itself,
And whence all baser substance may be worked;
Refine it off to air, you may—condense it105
Down to the diamond—is not metal there,
When o'er the sudden speck my chisel trips?
—Not flesh, as flake off flake I scale, approach,
Lay bare those bluish veins of blood asleep?
Lurks flame in no strange windings where, surprised110
By the swift implement sent home at once,
Flushes and glowings radiate and hover
About its track?
Phene? what—why is this?
That whitening cheek, those still dilating eyes!
Ah, you will die—I knew that you would die!115
Phene begins, on his having long remained silent.
Now the end's coming; to be sure, it must
Have ended sometime! Tush, why need I speak
Their foolish speech? I cannot bring to mind
One half of it, beside; and do not care
For old Natalia now, nor any of them.120
Oh, you—what are you?—if I do not try
To say the words Natalia made me learn;
To please your friends—it is to keep myself
Where your voice lifted me, by letting that
Proceed; but can it? Even you, perhaps,125
Cannot take up, now you have once let fall,
The music's life, and me along with that—
No, or you would! We'll stay, then, as we are—
Above the world.
You creature with the eyes!
If I could look forever up to them,130
As now you let me—I believe all sin,
All memory of wrong done, suffering borne,
Would drop down, low and lower, to the earth
Whence all that's low comes, and there touch and stay
—Never to overtake the rest of me,135
All that, unspotted, reaches up to you,
Drawn by those eyes! What rises is myself,
Not me the shame and suffering; but they sink,
Are left, I rise above them. Keep me so,
Above the world!140
But you sink, for your eyes
Are altering—altered! Stay—"I love you, love"—
I could prevent it if I understood:
More of your words to me; was 't in the tone
Or the words, your power?
Or stay—I will repeat
Their speech, if that contents you! Only change145
No more, and I shall find it presently
Far back here, in the brain yourself filled up.
Natalia threatened me that harm should follow
Unless I spoke their lesson to the end,
But harm to me, I thought she meant, not you.150
Your friends—Natalia said they were your friends
And meant you well—because, I doubted it,
Observing (what was very strange to see)
On every face, so different in all else,
The same smile girls like me are used to bear,155
But never men, men cannot stoop so low;
Yet your friends, speaking of you, used that smile,
That hateful smirk of boundless self-conceit
Which seems to take possession of the world
And make of God a tame confederate,160
Purveyor to their appetites—you know!
But still Natalia said they were your friends,
And they assented though they smiled the more,
And all came round me—that thin Englishman
With light lank hair seemed leader of the rest;165
He held a paper—"What we want," said he,
Ending some explanation to his friends,
"Is something slow, involved, and mystical,
To hold Jules long in doubt, yet take his taste
And lure him on until, at innermost170
Where he seeks sweetness' soul, he may find—this!
—As in the apple's core, the noisome fly;
For insects on the rind are seen at once,
And brushed aside as soon, but this is found
Only when on the lips or loathing tongue."175
And so he read what I have got by heart:
I'll speak it—"Do not die, love! I am yours"—
No—is not that, or like that, part of words
Yourself began by speaking? Strange to lose
What cost such pains to learn! Is this more right?180
Have ended sometime! Tush, why need I speak
Their foolish speech? I cannot bring to mind
One half of it, beside; and do not care
For old Natalia now, nor any of them.120
Oh, you—what are you?—if I do not try
To say the words Natalia made me learn;
To please your friends—it is to keep myself
Where your voice lifted me, by letting that
Proceed; but can it? Even you, perhaps,125
Cannot take up, now you have once let fall,
The music's life, and me along with that—
No, or you would! We'll stay, then, as we are—
Above the world.
You creature with the eyes!
If I could look forever up to them,130
As now you let me—I believe all sin,
All memory of wrong done, suffering borne,
Would drop down, low and lower, to the earth
Whence all that's low comes, and there touch and stay
—Never to overtake the rest of me,135
All that, unspotted, reaches up to you,
Drawn by those eyes! What rises is myself,
Not me the shame and suffering; but they sink,
Are left, I rise above them. Keep me so,
Above the world!140
But you sink, for your eyes
Are altering—altered! Stay—"I love you, love"—
I could prevent it if I understood:
More of your words to me; was 't in the tone
Or the words, your power?
Or stay—I will repeat
Their speech, if that contents you! Only change145
No more, and I shall find it presently
Far back here, in the brain yourself filled up.
Natalia threatened me that harm should follow
Unless I spoke their lesson to the end,
But harm to me, I thought she meant, not you.150
Your friends—Natalia said they were your friends
And meant you well—because, I doubted it,
Observing (what was very strange to see)
On every face, so different in all else,
The same smile girls like me are used to bear,155
But never men, men cannot stoop so low;
Yet your friends, speaking of you, used that smile,
That hateful smirk of boundless self-conceit
Which seems to take possession of the world
And make of God a tame confederate,160
Purveyor to their appetites—you know!
But still Natalia said they were your friends,
And they assented though they smiled the more,
And all came round me—that thin Englishman
With light lank hair seemed leader of the rest;165
He held a paper—"What we want," said he,
Ending some explanation to his friends,
"Is something slow, involved, and mystical,
To hold Jules long in doubt, yet take his taste
And lure him on until, at innermost170
Where he seeks sweetness' soul, he may find—this!
—As in the apple's core, the noisome fly;
For insects on the rind are seen at once,
And brushed aside as soon, but this is found
Only when on the lips or loathing tongue."175
And so he read what I have got by heart:
I'll speak it—"Do not die, love! I am yours"—
No—is not that, or like that, part of words
Yourself began by speaking? Strange to lose
What cost such pains to learn! Is this more right?180
I am a painter who cannot paint;
In my life, a devil rather than saint;
In my brain, as poor a creature too:
No end to all I cannot do!
Yet do one thing at least I can—185
Love a man or hate a man
Supremely: thus my lore began.
Through the Valley of Love I went,
In the lovingest spot to abide,
And just on the verge where I pitched my tent,190
I found Hate dwelling beside.
(Let the Bridegroom ask what the painter meant,
Of his Bride, of the peerless Bride!)
And further, I traversed Hate's grove,
In the hatefullest nook to dwell;195
But lo, where I flung myself prone, couched Love
Where the shadow threefold fell.
(The meaning—those black bride's-eyes above,
Not a painter's lip should tell!)
In my life, a devil rather than saint;
In my brain, as poor a creature too:
No end to all I cannot do!
Yet do one thing at least I can—185
Love a man or hate a man
Supremely: thus my lore began.
Through the Valley of Love I went,
In the lovingest spot to abide,
And just on the verge where I pitched my tent,190
I found Hate dwelling beside.
(Let the Bridegroom ask what the painter meant,
Of his Bride, of the peerless Bride!)
And further, I traversed Hate's grove,
In the hatefullest nook to dwell;195
But lo, where I flung myself prone, couched Love
Where the shadow threefold fell.
(The meaning—those black bride's-eyes above,
Not a painter's lip should tell!)
"And here," said he, "Jules probably will ask,200
'You have black eyes, Love—you are, sure enough,
My peerless bride—then do you tell indeed
What needs some explanation! What means this?'"
—And I am to go on, without a word—
'You have black eyes, Love—you are, sure enough,
My peerless bride—then do you tell indeed
What needs some explanation! What means this?'"
—And I am to go on, without a word—
So I grew wise in Love and Hate,205
From simple that I was of late.
Once when I loved, I would enlace
Breast, eyelids, hands, feet, form, and face
Of her I loved, in one embrace—
As if by mere love I could love immensely!210
Once, when I hated, I would plunge
My sword, and wipe with the first lunge
My foe's whole life out like a sponge—
As if by mere hate I could hate intensely!
But now I am wiser, know better the fashion215
How passion seeks aid from its opposite passion;
And if I see cause to love more, hate more
Than ever man loved, ever hated before—
And seek in the Valley of Love,
The nest, or the nook in Hate's Grove,220
Where my soul may surely reach
The essence, naught less, of each,
The Hate of all Hates, the Love
Of all Loves, in the Valley or Grove—
I find them the very warders225
Each of the other's borders.
When I love most, Love is disguised
In Hate; and when Hate is surprised
In Love, then I hate most: ask
How Love smiles through Hate's iron casque,230
Hate grins through Love's rose-braided mask—
And how, having hated thee,
I sought long and painfully
To reach thy heart, nor prick
The skin but pierce to the quick—235
Ask this, my Jules, and be answered straight
By thy bride—how the painter Lutwyche can hate!
From simple that I was of late.
Once when I loved, I would enlace
Breast, eyelids, hands, feet, form, and face
Of her I loved, in one embrace—
As if by mere love I could love immensely!210
Once, when I hated, I would plunge
My sword, and wipe with the first lunge
My foe's whole life out like a sponge—
As if by mere hate I could hate intensely!
But now I am wiser, know better the fashion215
How passion seeks aid from its opposite passion;
And if I see cause to love more, hate more
Than ever man loved, ever hated before—
And seek in the Valley of Love,
The nest, or the nook in Hate's Grove,220
Where my soul may surely reach
The essence, naught less, of each,
The Hate of all Hates, the Love
Of all Loves, in the Valley or Grove—
I find them the very warders225
Each of the other's borders.
When I love most, Love is disguised
In Hate; and when Hate is surprised
In Love, then I hate most: ask
How Love smiles through Hate's iron casque,230
Hate grins through Love's rose-braided mask—
And how, having hated thee,
I sought long and painfully
To reach thy heart, nor prick
The skin but pierce to the quick—235
Ask this, my Jules, and be answered straight
By thy bride—how the painter Lutwyche can hate!
Jules interposes
Lutwyche! Who else? But all of them, no doubt,
Hated me: they at Venice—presently
Their turn, however! You I shall not meet:240
If I dreamed, saying this would wake me.
Keep
What's here, the gold—we cannot meet again,
Consider! and the money was but meant
For two years' travel, which is over now,
All chance or hope or care or need of it.245
This—and what comes from selling these, my casts
And books and medals, except—let them go
Together, so the produce keeps you safe
Out of Natalia's clutches! If by chance
(For all's chance here) I should survive the gang250
At Venice, root out all fifteen of them,
We might meet somewhere, since the world is wide.
Hated me: they at Venice—presently
Their turn, however! You I shall not meet:240
If I dreamed, saying this would wake me.
Keep
What's here, the gold—we cannot meet again,
Consider! and the money was but meant
For two years' travel, which is over now,
All chance or hope or care or need of it.245
This—and what comes from selling these, my casts
And books and medals, except—let them go
Together, so the produce keeps you safe
Out of Natalia's clutches! If by chance
(For all's chance here) I should survive the gang250
At Venice, root out all fifteen of them,
We might meet somewhere, since the world is wide.
[From without is heard the voice of Pippa, singing—
Give her but a least excuse to love me!
When—where—
How—can this arm establish her above me,255
If fortune fixed her as my lady there,
There already, to eternally reprove me?
("Hist!"—said Kate the Queen;
But "Oh!" cried the maiden, binding her tresses,
"'Tis only a page that carols unseen,260
Crumbling your hounds their messes!")
When—where—
How—can this arm establish her above me,255
If fortune fixed her as my lady there,
There already, to eternally reprove me?
("Hist!"—said Kate the Queen;
But "Oh!" cried the maiden, binding her tresses,
"'Tis only a page that carols unseen,260
Crumbling your hounds their messes!")
Is she wronged?—To the rescue of her honor,
My heart!
Is she poor?—What costs it to be styled a donor?
Merely an earth to cleave, a sea to part.265
But that fortune should have thrust all this upon her!
("Nay, list!"—bade Kate the Queen;
And still cried the maiden, binding her tresses,
"'Tis only a page that carols unseen
Fitting your hawks their jesses!")270
My heart!
Is she poor?—What costs it to be styled a donor?
Merely an earth to cleave, a sea to part.265
But that fortune should have thrust all this upon her!
("Nay, list!"—bade Kate the Queen;
And still cried the maiden, binding her tresses,
"'Tis only a page that carols unseen
Fitting your hawks their jesses!")270
Jules resumes
What name was that the little girl sang forth?
Kate? The Cornaro, doubtless, who renounced
The crown of Cyprus to be lady here
At Asolo, where still her memory stays,
And peasants sing how once a certain page275
Pined for the grace of her so far above
His power of doing good to, "Kate the Queen—
She never could be wronged, be poor," he sighed,
"Need him to help her!"
Yes, a bitter thing
To see our lady above all need of us;280
Yet so we look ere we will love; not I,
But the world looks so. If whoever loves
Must be, in some sort, god or worshiper,
The blessing or the blest-one, queen or page,
Why should we always choose the page's part?285
Here is a woman with utter need of me—
I find myself queen here, it seems!
How strange!
Look at the woman here with the new soul,
Like my own Psyche—fresh upon her lips
Alit the visionary butterfly,290
Waiting my word to enter and make bright,
Or flutter off and leave all blank as first.
This body had no soul before, but slept
Or stirred, was beauteous or ungainly, free
From taint or foul with stain, as outward things295
Fastened their image on its passiveness;
Now, it will wake, feel, live—or die again!
Shall to produce form out of unshaped stuff
Be Art—and further, to evoke a soul
From form be nothing? This new soul is mine!300
Kate? The Cornaro, doubtless, who renounced
The crown of Cyprus to be lady here
At Asolo, where still her memory stays,
And peasants sing how once a certain page275
Pined for the grace of her so far above
His power of doing good to, "Kate the Queen—
She never could be wronged, be poor," he sighed,
"Need him to help her!"
Yes, a bitter thing
To see our lady above all need of us;280
Yet so we look ere we will love; not I,
But the world looks so. If whoever loves
Must be, in some sort, god or worshiper,
The blessing or the blest-one, queen or page,
Why should we always choose the page's part?285
Here is a woman with utter need of me—
I find myself queen here, it seems!
How strange!
Look at the woman here with the new soul,
Like my own Psyche—fresh upon her lips
Alit the visionary butterfly,290
Waiting my word to enter and make bright,
Or flutter off and leave all blank as first.
This body had no soul before, but slept
Or stirred, was beauteous or ungainly, free
From taint or foul with stain, as outward things295
Fastened their image on its passiveness;
Now, it will wake, feel, live—or die again!
Shall to produce form out of unshaped stuff
Be Art—and further, to evoke a soul
From form be nothing? This new soul is mine!300
Now, to kill Lutwyche, what would that do?—save
A wretched dauber, men will hoot to death
Without me, from their hooting. Oh, to hear
God's voice plain as I heard it first, before
They broke in with their laughter! I heard them305
Henceforth, not God.
To Ancona—Greece—some isle!
I wanted silence only; there is clay
Everywhere. One may do whate'er one likes
In Art; the only thing is, to make sure
That one does like it—which takes pains to know.310
Scatter all this, my Phene—this mad dream!
Who, what is Lutwyche, what Natalia's friends,
What the whole world except our love—my own,
Own Phene? But I told you, did I not,
Ere night we travel for your land—some isle315
With the sea's silence on it? Stand aside—
I do but break these paltry models up
To begin Art afresh. Meet Lutwyche, I—
And save him from my statue meeting him?
Some unsuspected isle in the far seas!320
Like a god going through his world, there stands
One mountain for a moment in the dusk,
Whole brotherhoods of cedars on its brow;
And you are ever by me while I gaze
—Are in my arms as now—as now—as now!325
Some unsuspected isle in the far seas!
Some unsuspected isle in far-off seas!
A wretched dauber, men will hoot to death
Without me, from their hooting. Oh, to hear
God's voice plain as I heard it first, before
They broke in with their laughter! I heard them305
Henceforth, not God.
To Ancona—Greece—some isle!
I wanted silence only; there is clay
Everywhere. One may do whate'er one likes
In Art; the only thing is, to make sure
That one does like it—which takes pains to know.310
Scatter all this, my Phene—this mad dream!
Who, what is Lutwyche, what Natalia's friends,
What the whole world except our love—my own,
Own Phene? But I told you, did I not,
Ere night we travel for your land—some isle315
With the sea's silence on it? Stand aside—
I do but break these paltry models up
To begin Art afresh. Meet Lutwyche, I—
And save him from my statue meeting him?
Some unsuspected isle in the far seas!320
Like a god going through his world, there stands
One mountain for a moment in the dusk,
Whole brotherhoods of cedars on its brow;
And you are ever by me while I gaze
—Are in my arms as now—as now—as now!325
Some unsuspected isle in the far seas!
Some unsuspected isle in far-off seas!
Talk by the way, while Pippa is passing from Orcana to the Turret. Two or three of the Austrian Police loitering with Bluphocks, an English vagabond, just in view of the Turret.
Bluphocks. So, that is your Pippa, the little girl who
passed us singing? Well, your Bishop's Intendant's
money shall be honestly earned:—now, don't make me
that sour face because I bring the Bishop's name into the
business; we know he can have nothing to do with such5
horrors; we know that he is a saint and all that a bishop
should be, who is a great man beside. Oh, were but every
worm a maggot, Every fly a grig, Every bough a Christmas
faggot, Every tune a jig! In fact, I have abjured all religions;
but the last I inclined to was the Armenian: for10
I have traveled, do you see, and at Koenigsberg, Prussia
Improper (so styled because there's a sort of bleak hungry
sun there), you might remark over a venerable house-porch
a certain Chaldee inscription; and brief as it is, a
mere glance at it used absolutely to change the mood of15
every bearded passenger. In they turned, one and all; the
young and lightsome, with no irreverent pause, the aged
and decrepit, with a sensible alacrity: 'twas the Grand
Rabbi's abode, in short. Struck with curiosity, I lost no
time in learning Syriac—(these are vowels, you dogs—follow20
my stick's end in the mud—Celarent, Darii, Ferio!)
and one morning presented myself, spelling-book in hand,
a, b, c—I picked it out letter by letter, and what was the
purport of this miraculous posy? Some cherished legend
of the past, you'll say—"How Moses hocus-pocussed25
Egypt's land with fly and locust"—or, "How to Jonah
sounded harshish, Get thee up and go to Tarshish"—or,
"How the angel meeting Balaam, Straight his ass returned
a salaam." In no wise! "Shackabrack—Boach—somebody
or other—Isaach, Re-cei-ver, Pur-cha-ser, and30
Ex-chan-ger of—Stolen Goods!" So, talk to me of the
religion of a bishop! I have renounced all bishops save
Bishop Beveridge—mean to live so—and die—As some
Greek dog-sage, dead and merry, Hellward bound in
Charon's wherry with food for both worlds, under and35
upper, Lupine-seed and Hecate's supper, and never an
obolus. (Though thanks to you, or this Intendant through
you, or this Bishop through his Intendant—I possess a
burning pocketful of zwanzigers) To pay Stygian Ferry!
passed us singing? Well, your Bishop's Intendant's
money shall be honestly earned:—now, don't make me
that sour face because I bring the Bishop's name into the
business; we know he can have nothing to do with such5
horrors; we know that he is a saint and all that a bishop
should be, who is a great man beside. Oh, were but every
worm a maggot, Every fly a grig, Every bough a Christmas
faggot, Every tune a jig! In fact, I have abjured all religions;
but the last I inclined to was the Armenian: for10
I have traveled, do you see, and at Koenigsberg, Prussia
Improper (so styled because there's a sort of bleak hungry
sun there), you might remark over a venerable house-porch
a certain Chaldee inscription; and brief as it is, a
mere glance at it used absolutely to change the mood of15
every bearded passenger. In they turned, one and all; the
young and lightsome, with no irreverent pause, the aged
and decrepit, with a sensible alacrity: 'twas the Grand
Rabbi's abode, in short. Struck with curiosity, I lost no
time in learning Syriac—(these are vowels, you dogs—follow20
my stick's end in the mud—Celarent, Darii, Ferio!)
and one morning presented myself, spelling-book in hand,
a, b, c—I picked it out letter by letter, and what was the
purport of this miraculous posy? Some cherished legend
of the past, you'll say—"How Moses hocus-pocussed25
Egypt's land with fly and locust"—or, "How to Jonah
sounded harshish, Get thee up and go to Tarshish"—or,
"How the angel meeting Balaam, Straight his ass returned
a salaam." In no wise! "Shackabrack—Boach—somebody
or other—Isaach, Re-cei-ver, Pur-cha-ser, and30
Ex-chan-ger of—Stolen Goods!" So, talk to me of the
religion of a bishop! I have renounced all bishops save
Bishop Beveridge—mean to live so—and die—As some
Greek dog-sage, dead and merry, Hellward bound in
Charon's wherry with food for both worlds, under and35
upper, Lupine-seed and Hecate's supper, and never an
obolus. (Though thanks to you, or this Intendant through
you, or this Bishop through his Intendant—I possess a
burning pocketful of zwanzigers) To pay Stygian Ferry!
1st Policeman. There is the girl, then; go and deserve40
them the moment you have pointed out to us Signor
Luigi and his mother. [To the rest.] I have been
noticing a house yonder, this long while—not a shutter
unclosed since morning!
them the moment you have pointed out to us Signor
Luigi and his mother. [To the rest.] I have been
noticing a house yonder, this long while—not a shutter
unclosed since morning!
2nd Policeman. Old Luca Gaddi's, that owns the silk-mills45
here: he dozes by the hour, wakes up, sighs deeply,
says he should like to be Prince Metternich, and then
dozes again, after having bidden young Sebald, the
foreigner, set his wife to playing draughts. Never
molest such a household; they mean well.50
here: he dozes by the hour, wakes up, sighs deeply,
says he should like to be Prince Metternich, and then
dozes again, after having bidden young Sebald, the
foreigner, set his wife to playing draughts. Never
molest such a household; they mean well.50
Bluphocks. Only, cannot you tell me something of
this little Pippa I must have to do with? One could
make something of that name. Pippa—that is, short for
Felippa—rhyming to Panurge consults Hertrippa—Believest
thou, King Agrippa? Something might be done55
with that name.
this little Pippa I must have to do with? One could
make something of that name. Pippa—that is, short for
Felippa—rhyming to Panurge consults Hertrippa—Believest
thou, King Agrippa? Something might be done55
with that name.
2nd Policeman. Put into rhyme that your head and a
ripe muskmelon would not be dear at half a zwanziger!
Leave this fooling, and look out; the afternoon 's over
or nearly so.60
ripe muskmelon would not be dear at half a zwanziger!
Leave this fooling, and look out; the afternoon 's over
or nearly so.60
3rd Policeman. Where in this passport of Signor
Luigi does our Principal instruct you to watch him so
narrowly? There? What's there beside a simple signature?
(That English fool's busy watching.)
Luigi does our Principal instruct you to watch him so
narrowly? There? What's there beside a simple signature?
(That English fool's busy watching.)
2nd Policeman. Flourish all round—"Put all possible65
obstacles in his way"; oblong dot at the end—"Detain
him till further advices reach you"; scratch at bottom—"Send
him back on pretense of some informality in the
above"; ink-spirt on right-hand side (which is the case
here)—"Arrest him at once." Why and wherefore, I70
don't concern myself, but my instructions amount to
this: if Signor Luigi leaves home tonight for Vienna—well
and good, the passport deposed with us for our
visa is really for his own use, they have misinformed the
Office, and he means well; but let him stay over tonight—there75
has been the pretense we suspect, the accounts of
his corresponding and holding intelligence with the Carbonari
are correct, we arrest him at once, tomorrow
comes Venice, and presently Spielberg. Bluphocks
makes the signal, sure enough! That is he, entering the80
turret with his mother, no doubt.
obstacles in his way"; oblong dot at the end—"Detain
him till further advices reach you"; scratch at bottom—"Send
him back on pretense of some informality in the
above"; ink-spirt on right-hand side (which is the case
here)—"Arrest him at once." Why and wherefore, I70
don't concern myself, but my instructions amount to
this: if Signor Luigi leaves home tonight for Vienna—well
and good, the passport deposed with us for our
visa is really for his own use, they have misinformed the
Office, and he means well; but let him stay over tonight—there75
has been the pretense we suspect, the accounts of
his corresponding and holding intelligence with the Carbonari
are correct, we arrest him at once, tomorrow
comes Venice, and presently Spielberg. Bluphocks
makes the signal, sure enough! That is he, entering the80
turret with his mother, no doubt.
III.—EVENING
Scene.—Inside the Turret on the Hill above Asolo. Luigi and his Mother entering.