Luigi.Here in the archway?
Mother.Oh, no, no—in farther,
Where the echo is made, on the ridge.
Where the echo is made, on the ridge.
Luigi.Here surely, then.
How plain the tap of my heel as I leaped up!5
Hark—"Lucius Junius!" The very ghost of a voice
Whose body is caught and kept by—what are those?
Mere withered wall flowers, waving overhead?
They seem an elvish group with thin bleached hair
That lean out of their topmost fortress—look10
And listen, mountain men, to what we say,
Hand under chin of each grave earthy face.
Up and show faces all of you!—"All of you!"
That's the king dwarf with the scarlet comb; old Franz,
Come down and meet your fate? Hark—"Meet your fate!"15
How plain the tap of my heel as I leaped up!5
Hark—"Lucius Junius!" The very ghost of a voice
Whose body is caught and kept by—what are those?
Mere withered wall flowers, waving overhead?
They seem an elvish group with thin bleached hair
That lean out of their topmost fortress—look10
And listen, mountain men, to what we say,
Hand under chin of each grave earthy face.
Up and show faces all of you!—"All of you!"
That's the king dwarf with the scarlet comb; old Franz,
Come down and meet your fate? Hark—"Meet your fate!"15
Mother. Let him not meet it, my Luigi—do not
Go to his City! Putting crime aside,
Half of these ills of Italy are feigned:
Your Pellicos and writers for effect,
Write for effect.20
Go to his City! Putting crime aside,
Half of these ills of Italy are feigned:
Your Pellicos and writers for effect,
Write for effect.20
Luigi.Hush! Say A writes, and B.
Mother. These A's and B's write for effect, I say.
Then, evil is in its nature loud, while good
Is silent; you hear each petty injury,
None of his virtues; he is old beside,
Quiet and kind, and densely stupid. Why25
Do A and B not kill him themselves?
Then, evil is in its nature loud, while good
Is silent; you hear each petty injury,
None of his virtues; he is old beside,
Quiet and kind, and densely stupid. Why25
Do A and B not kill him themselves?
Luigi.They teach
Others to kill him—me—and, if I fail,
Others to succeed; now, if A tried and failed,
I could not teach that: mine's the lesser task.
Mother, they visit night by night—
Others to kill him—me—and, if I fail,
Others to succeed; now, if A tried and failed,
I could not teach that: mine's the lesser task.
Mother, they visit night by night—
Mother.—You, Luigi?30
Ah, will you let me tell you what you are?
Ah, will you let me tell you what you are?
Luigi. Why not? Oh, the one thing you fear to hint,
You may assure yourself I say and say
Ever to myself! At times—nay, even as now
We sit—I think my mind is touched, suspect35
All is not sound; but is not knowing that
What constitutes one sane or otherwise?
I know I am thus—so, all is right again.
I laugh at myself as through the town I walk,
And see men merry as if no Italy40
Were suffering; then I ponder—"I am rich,
Young, healthy; why should this fact trouble me,
More than it troubles these?" But it does trouble.
No, trouble's a bad word; for as I walk
There's springing and melody and giddiness,45
And old quaint turns and passages of my youth,
Dreams long forgotten, little in themselves,
Return to me—whatever may amuse me,
And earth seems in a truce with me, and heaven
Accords with me, all things suspend their strife,50
The very cicala laughs, "There goes he, and there!
Feast him, the time is short; he is on his way
For the world's sake: feast him this once, our friend!"
And in return for all this, I can trip
Cheerfully up the scaffold-steps. I go55
This evening, mother!
You may assure yourself I say and say
Ever to myself! At times—nay, even as now
We sit—I think my mind is touched, suspect35
All is not sound; but is not knowing that
What constitutes one sane or otherwise?
I know I am thus—so, all is right again.
I laugh at myself as through the town I walk,
And see men merry as if no Italy40
Were suffering; then I ponder—"I am rich,
Young, healthy; why should this fact trouble me,
More than it troubles these?" But it does trouble.
No, trouble's a bad word; for as I walk
There's springing and melody and giddiness,45
And old quaint turns and passages of my youth,
Dreams long forgotten, little in themselves,
Return to me—whatever may amuse me,
And earth seems in a truce with me, and heaven
Accords with me, all things suspend their strife,50
The very cicala laughs, "There goes he, and there!
Feast him, the time is short; he is on his way
For the world's sake: feast him this once, our friend!"
And in return for all this, I can trip
Cheerfully up the scaffold-steps. I go55
This evening, mother!
Luigi. Oh, there I feel—am sure that I am right!
Mother. Mistrust your judgment, then, of the mere means
To this wild enterprise. Say you are right—60
How should one in your state e'er bring to pass
What would require a cool head, a cold heart,
And a calm hand? You never will escape.
To this wild enterprise. Say you are right—60
How should one in your state e'er bring to pass
What would require a cool head, a cold heart,
And a calm hand? You never will escape.
Luigi. Escape? To even wish that would spoil all.
The dying is best part of it. Too much65
Have I enjoyed these fifteen years of mine,
To leave myself excuse for longer life:
Was not life pressed down, running o'er with joy,
That I might finish with it ere my fellows
Who, sparelier feasted, make a longer stay?70
I was put at the board-head, helped to all
At first; I rise up happy and content.
God must be glad one loves his world so much.
I can give news of earth to all the dead
Who ask me:—last year's sunsets, and great stars75
Which had a right to come first and see ebb
The crimson wave that drifts the sun away—
Those crescent moons with notched and burning rims
That strengthened into sharp fire, and there stood,
Impatient of the azure—and that day80
In March, a double rainbow stopped the storm—
May's warm, slow, yellow moonlit summer nights—
Gone are they, but I have them in my soul!
The dying is best part of it. Too much65
Have I enjoyed these fifteen years of mine,
To leave myself excuse for longer life:
Was not life pressed down, running o'er with joy,
That I might finish with it ere my fellows
Who, sparelier feasted, make a longer stay?70
I was put at the board-head, helped to all
At first; I rise up happy and content.
God must be glad one loves his world so much.
I can give news of earth to all the dead
Who ask me:—last year's sunsets, and great stars75
Which had a right to come first and see ebb
The crimson wave that drifts the sun away—
Those crescent moons with notched and burning rims
That strengthened into sharp fire, and there stood,
Impatient of the azure—and that day80
In March, a double rainbow stopped the storm—
May's warm, slow, yellow moonlit summer nights—
Gone are they, but I have them in my soul!
Mother. (He will not go!)
Luigi.You smile at me? 'Tis true—
Voluptuousness, grotesqueness, ghastliness,85
Environ my devotedness as quaintly
As round about some antique altar wreathe
The rose festoons, goats' horns, and oxen's skulls.
Voluptuousness, grotesqueness, ghastliness,85
Environ my devotedness as quaintly
As round about some antique altar wreathe
The rose festoons, goats' horns, and oxen's skulls.
Mother. See now: you reach the city, you must cross
His threshold—how?
His threshold—how?
Luigi.Oh, that's if we conspired!90
Then would come pains in plenty, as you guess—
But guess not how the qualities most fit
For such an office, qualities I have,
Would little stead me, otherwise employed,
Yet prove of rarest merit only here.95
Everyone knows for what his excellence
Will serve, but no one ever will consider
For what his worst defect might serve; and yet
Have you not seen me range our coppice yonder
In search of a distorted ash?—I find100
The wry spoilt branch a natural perfect bow.
Fancy the thrice-sage, thrice-precautioned man
Arriving at the palace on my errand!
No, no! I have a handsome dress packed up—
White satin here, to set off my black hair;105
In I shall march—for you may watch your life out
Behind thick walls, make friends there to betray you;
More than one man spoils everything. March straight—
Only, no clumsy knife to fumble for.
Take the great gate, and walk (not saunter) on110
Through guards and guards—I have rehearsed it all
Inside the turret here a hundred times
Don't ask the way of whom you meet, observe!
But where they cluster thickliest is the door
Of doors; they'll let you pass—they'll never blab115
Each to the other, he knows not the favorite,
Whence he is bound and what's his business now.
Walk in—straight up to him; you have no knife:
Be prompt, how should he scream? Then, out with you!
Italy, Italy, my Italy!120
You're free, you're free! Oh, mother, I could dream
They got about me—Andrea from his exile,
Pier from his dungeon, Gualtier from his grave!
Then would come pains in plenty, as you guess—
But guess not how the qualities most fit
For such an office, qualities I have,
Would little stead me, otherwise employed,
Yet prove of rarest merit only here.95
Everyone knows for what his excellence
Will serve, but no one ever will consider
For what his worst defect might serve; and yet
Have you not seen me range our coppice yonder
In search of a distorted ash?—I find100
The wry spoilt branch a natural perfect bow.
Fancy the thrice-sage, thrice-precautioned man
Arriving at the palace on my errand!
No, no! I have a handsome dress packed up—
White satin here, to set off my black hair;105
In I shall march—for you may watch your life out
Behind thick walls, make friends there to betray you;
More than one man spoils everything. March straight—
Only, no clumsy knife to fumble for.
Take the great gate, and walk (not saunter) on110
Through guards and guards—I have rehearsed it all
Inside the turret here a hundred times
Don't ask the way of whom you meet, observe!
But where they cluster thickliest is the door
Of doors; they'll let you pass—they'll never blab115
Each to the other, he knows not the favorite,
Whence he is bound and what's his business now.
Walk in—straight up to him; you have no knife:
Be prompt, how should he scream? Then, out with you!
Italy, Italy, my Italy!120
You're free, you're free! Oh, mother, I could dream
They got about me—Andrea from his exile,
Pier from his dungeon, Gualtier from his grave!
Mother. Well, you shall go. Yet seems this patriotism
The easiest virtue for a selfish man125
To acquire: he loves himself—and next, the world—
If he must love beyond—but naught between:
As a short-sighted man sees naught midway
His body and the sun above. But you
Are my adored Luigi, ever obedient130
To my least wish, and running o'er with love;
I could not call you cruel or unkind.
Once more, your ground for killing him!—then go!
The easiest virtue for a selfish man125
To acquire: he loves himself—and next, the world—
If he must love beyond—but naught between:
As a short-sighted man sees naught midway
His body and the sun above. But you
Are my adored Luigi, ever obedient130
To my least wish, and running o'er with love;
I could not call you cruel or unkind.
Once more, your ground for killing him!—then go!
Luigi. Now do you try me, or make sport of me?
How first the Austrians got these provinces—135
(If that is all, I'll satisfy you soon)
—Never by conquest but by cunning, for
That treaty whereby—
How first the Austrians got these provinces—135
(If that is all, I'll satisfy you soon)
—Never by conquest but by cunning, for
That treaty whereby—
Mother.Well?
Luigi.(Sure, he's arrived,
The telltale cuckoo; spring's his confidant,
And he lets out her April purposes!)140
Or—better go at once to modern time,
He has—they have—in fact, I understand
But can't restate the matter; that's my boast:
Others could reason it out to you, and prove
Things they have made me feel.
The telltale cuckoo; spring's his confidant,
And he lets out her April purposes!)140
Or—better go at once to modern time,
He has—they have—in fact, I understand
But can't restate the matter; that's my boast:
Others could reason it out to you, and prove
Things they have made me feel.
Mother.Why go tonight?145
Morn's for adventure. Jupiter is now
A morning-star. I cannot hear you, Luigi!
Morn's for adventure. Jupiter is now
A morning-star. I cannot hear you, Luigi!
Luigi. "I am the bright and morning-star," saith God—
And, "to such an one I give the morning-star."
The gift of the morning-star! Have I God's gift150
Of the morning-star?
And, "to such an one I give the morning-star."
The gift of the morning-star! Have I God's gift150
Of the morning-star?
Mother.Chiara will love to see
That Jupiter an evening-star next June.
That Jupiter an evening-star next June.
Luigi. True, mother. Well for those who live through June!
Great noontides, thunder-storms, all glaring pomps
That triumph at the heels of June the god155
Leading his revel through our leafy world.
Yes, Chiara will be here.
Great noontides, thunder-storms, all glaring pomps
That triumph at the heels of June the god155
Leading his revel through our leafy world.
Yes, Chiara will be here.
Mother.In June: remember,
Yourself appointed that month for her coming.
Yourself appointed that month for her coming.
Luigi. Was that low noise the echo?
Mother.The night-wind.
She must be grown—with her blue eyes upturned160
As if life were one long and sweet surprise:
In June she comes.
She must be grown—with her blue eyes upturned160
As if life were one long and sweet surprise:
In June she comes.
Luigi.We were to see together
The Titian at Treviso. There, again!
The Titian at Treviso. There, again!
[From without is heard the voice of Pippa, singing—
A king lived long ago,
In the morning of the world,165
When earth was nigher heaven than now.
And the king's locks curled,
Disparting o'er a forehead full
As the milk-white space 'twixt horn and horn
Of some sacrificial bull—170
Only calm as a babe new-born:
For he was got to a sleepy mood,
So safe from all decrepitude,
Age with its bane, so sure gone by,
(The gods so loved him while he dreamed)175
That, having lived thus long, there seemed
No need the king should ever die.
In the morning of the world,165
When earth was nigher heaven than now.
And the king's locks curled,
Disparting o'er a forehead full
As the milk-white space 'twixt horn and horn
Of some sacrificial bull—170
Only calm as a babe new-born:
For he was got to a sleepy mood,
So safe from all decrepitude,
Age with its bane, so sure gone by,
(The gods so loved him while he dreamed)175
That, having lived thus long, there seemed
No need the king should ever die.
Luigi. No need that sort of king should ever die!
Among the rocks his city was:
Before his palace, in the sun,180
He sat to see his people pass,
And judge them every one
From its threshold of smooth stone.
They haled him many a valley-thief
Caught in the sheep-pens, robber-chief185
Swarthy and shameless, beggar-cheat,
Spy-prowler, or rough pirate found
On the sea-sand left aground;
And sometimes clung about his feet,
With bleeding lid and burning cheek,190
A woman, bitterest wrong to speak
Of one with sullen thickset brows:
And sometimes from the prison-house
The angry priests a pale wretch brought,
Who through some chink had pushed and pressed195
On knees and elbows, belly and breast,
Worm-like into the temple—caught
He was by the very god,
Whoever in the darkness strode
Backward and forward, keeping watch200
O'er his brazen bowls, such rogues to catch!
These, all and everyone,
The king judged, sitting in the sun.
Before his palace, in the sun,180
He sat to see his people pass,
And judge them every one
From its threshold of smooth stone.
They haled him many a valley-thief
Caught in the sheep-pens, robber-chief185
Swarthy and shameless, beggar-cheat,
Spy-prowler, or rough pirate found
On the sea-sand left aground;
And sometimes clung about his feet,
With bleeding lid and burning cheek,190
A woman, bitterest wrong to speak
Of one with sullen thickset brows:
And sometimes from the prison-house
The angry priests a pale wretch brought,
Who through some chink had pushed and pressed195
On knees and elbows, belly and breast,
Worm-like into the temple—caught
He was by the very god,
Whoever in the darkness strode
Backward and forward, keeping watch200
O'er his brazen bowls, such rogues to catch!
These, all and everyone,
The king judged, sitting in the sun.
Luigi. That king should still judge sitting in the sun!
His councilors, on left and right,205
Looked anxious up—but no surprise
Disturbed the king's old smiling eyes,
Where the very blue had turned to white.
'Tis said, a Python scared one day
The breathless city, till he came,210
With forky tongue and eyes on flame,
Where the old king sat to judge alway;
But when he saw the sweepy hair
Girt with a crown of berries rare
Which the god will hardly give to wear215
To the maiden who singeth, dancing bare
In the altar-smoke by the pine-torch lights,
At his wondrous forest rites—
Seeing this, he did not dare
Approach that threshold in the sun,220
Assault the old king smiling there.
Such grace had kings when the world begun!
Looked anxious up—but no surprise
Disturbed the king's old smiling eyes,
Where the very blue had turned to white.
'Tis said, a Python scared one day
The breathless city, till he came,210
With forky tongue and eyes on flame,
Where the old king sat to judge alway;
But when he saw the sweepy hair
Girt with a crown of berries rare
Which the god will hardly give to wear215
To the maiden who singeth, dancing bare
In the altar-smoke by the pine-torch lights,
At his wondrous forest rites—
Seeing this, he did not dare
Approach that threshold in the sun,220
Assault the old king smiling there.
Such grace had kings when the world begun!
Luigi. And such grace have they, now that the world ends!
The Python at the city, on the throne,
And brave men, God would crown for slaying him,225
Lurk in by-corners lest they fall his prey.
Are crowns yet to be won in this late time,
Which weakness makes me hesitate to reach?
Tis God's voice calls; how could I stay? Farewell!
The Python at the city, on the throne,
And brave men, God would crown for slaying him,225
Lurk in by-corners lest they fall his prey.
Are crowns yet to be won in this late time,
Which weakness makes me hesitate to reach?
Tis God's voice calls; how could I stay? Farewell!
Talk by the way, while Pippa is passing from the Turret to the Bishop's Brother's House, close to the Duomo S. Maria. Poor Girls sitting on the steps.
1st Girl. There goes a swallow to Venice—the stout seafarer!
Seeing those birds fly makes one wish for wings.
Let us all wish; you wish first!
Seeing those birds fly makes one wish for wings.
Let us all wish; you wish first!
2nd Girl.I? This sunset
To finish.
To finish.
3rd Girl. That old—somebody I know,
Grayer and older than my grandfather,5
To give me the same treat he gave last week—
Feeding me on his knee with fig-peckers,
Lampreys and red Breganze-wine, and mumbling
The while some folly about how well I fare,
Let sit and eat my supper quietly:10
Since had he not himself been late this morning,
Detained at—never mind where—had he not—
"Eh, baggage, had I not!"—
Grayer and older than my grandfather,5
To give me the same treat he gave last week—
Feeding me on his knee with fig-peckers,
Lampreys and red Breganze-wine, and mumbling
The while some folly about how well I fare,
Let sit and eat my supper quietly:10
Since had he not himself been late this morning,
Detained at—never mind where—had he not—
"Eh, baggage, had I not!"—
2nd Girl.How she can lie!
2nd Girl.What makes your fingers red?
3rd Girl. Dipping them into wine to write bad words with15
On the bright table: how he laughed!
On the bright table: how he laughed!
1st Girl.My turn.
Spring's come and summer's coming. I would wear
A long loose gown, down to the feet and hands,
With plaits here, close about the throat, all day;
And all night lie, the cool long nights, in bed;20
And have new milk to drink, apples to eat,
Deuzans and junetings, leather-coats—ah, I should say,
This is away in the fields—miles!
Spring's come and summer's coming. I would wear
A long loose gown, down to the feet and hands,
With plaits here, close about the throat, all day;
And all night lie, the cool long nights, in bed;20
And have new milk to drink, apples to eat,
Deuzans and junetings, leather-coats—ah, I should say,
This is away in the fields—miles!
3rd Girl.Say at once
You'd be at home—she'd always be at home!
Now comes the story of the farm among25
The cherry orchards, and how April snowed
White blossoms on her as she ran. Why, fool,
They've rubbed the chalk-mark out, how tall you were,
Twisted your starling's neck, broken his cage,
Made a dunghill of your garden!
You'd be at home—she'd always be at home!
Now comes the story of the farm among25
The cherry orchards, and how April snowed
White blossoms on her as she ran. Why, fool,
They've rubbed the chalk-mark out, how tall you were,
Twisted your starling's neck, broken his cage,
Made a dunghill of your garden!
1st Girl.They destroy30
My garden since I left them? Well—perhaps
I would have done so—so I hope they have!
A fig-tree curled out of our cottage wall;
They called it mine, I have forgotten why,
It must have been there long ere I was born:35
Cric—cric—I think I hear the wasps o'erhead
Pricking the papers strung to flutter there
And keep off birds in fruit-time—coarse long papers,
And the wasps eat them, prick them through and through.
My garden since I left them? Well—perhaps
I would have done so—so I hope they have!
A fig-tree curled out of our cottage wall;
They called it mine, I have forgotten why,
It must have been there long ere I was born:35
Cric—cric—I think I hear the wasps o'erhead
Pricking the papers strung to flutter there
And keep off birds in fruit-time—coarse long papers,
And the wasps eat them, prick them through and through.
3rd Girl. How her mouth twitches! Where was I?—before40
She broke in with her wishes and long gowns
And wasps—would I be such a fool!—Oh, here!
This is my way: I answer everyone
Who asks me why I make so much of him—
(If you say, "you love him"—straight "he'll not be gulled!")45
"He that seduced me when I was a girl
Thus high—had eyes like yours, or hair like yours,
Brown, red, white"—as the case may be; that pleases!
See how that beetle burnishes in the path!
There sparkles he along the dust; and, there—50
Your journey to that maize-tuft spoiled at least!
She broke in with her wishes and long gowns
And wasps—would I be such a fool!—Oh, here!
This is my way: I answer everyone
Who asks me why I make so much of him—
(If you say, "you love him"—straight "he'll not be gulled!")45
"He that seduced me when I was a girl
Thus high—had eyes like yours, or hair like yours,
Brown, red, white"—as the case may be; that pleases!
See how that beetle burnishes in the path!
There sparkles he along the dust; and, there—50
Your journey to that maize-tuft spoiled at least!
1st Girl. When I was young, they said if you killed one
Of those sunshiny beetles, that his friend
Up there would shine no more that day nor next.
Of those sunshiny beetles, that his friend
Up there would shine no more that day nor next.
2nd Girl. When you were young? Nor are you young, that's true.55
How your plump arms, that were, have dropped away!
Why, I can span them. Cecco beats you still?
No matter, so you keep your curious hair.
I wish they'd find a way to dye our hair
Your color—any lighter tint, indeed,60
Than black—the men say they are sick of black,
Black eyes, black hair!
How your plump arms, that were, have dropped away!
Why, I can span them. Cecco beats you still?
No matter, so you keep your curious hair.
I wish they'd find a way to dye our hair
Your color—any lighter tint, indeed,60
Than black—the men say they are sick of black,
Black eyes, black hair!
4th Girl.Sick of yours, like enough.
Do you pretend you ever tasted lampreys
And ortolans? Giovita, of the palace,
Engaged (but there 's no trusting him) to slice me65
Polenta with a knife that had cut up
An ortolan.
Do you pretend you ever tasted lampreys
And ortolans? Giovita, of the palace,
Engaged (but there 's no trusting him) to slice me65
Polenta with a knife that had cut up
An ortolan.
2nd Girl. Why, there! Is not that Pippa
We are to talk to, under the window—quick!—
Where the lights are?
We are to talk to, under the window—quick!—
Where the lights are?
1st Girl.That she? No, or she would sing,
For the Intendant said—
For the Intendant said—
3rd Girl.Oh, you sing first!70
Then, if she listens and comes close—I'll tell you—
Sing that song the young English noble made,
Who took you for the purest of the pure,
And meant to leave the world for you—what fun!
Then, if she listens and comes close—I'll tell you—
Sing that song the young English noble made,
Who took you for the purest of the pure,
And meant to leave the world for you—what fun!
2nd Girl [sings].
You'll love me yet!—and I can tarry75
Your love's protracted growing:
June reared that bunch of flowers you carry,
From seeds of April's sowing.
Your love's protracted growing:
June reared that bunch of flowers you carry,
From seeds of April's sowing.
I plant a heartful now: some seed
At least is sure to strike80
And yield—what you'll not pluck indeed,
Not love, but, may be, like.
At least is sure to strike80
And yield—what you'll not pluck indeed,
Not love, but, may be, like.
You'll look at least on love's remains,
A grave's one violet:
Your look?—that pays a thousand pains.85
What's death? You'll love me yet!
A grave's one violet:
Your look?—that pays a thousand pains.85
What's death? You'll love me yet!
IV.—NIGHT
Scene.—Inside the Palace by the Duomo. Monsignor, dismissing his Attendants.
Monsignor. Thanks, friends, many thanks! I chiefly
desire life now, that I may recompense every one of you.
Most I know something of already. What, a repast prepared?
Benedicto benedicatur—ugh, ugh! Where was
I? Oh, as you were remarking, Ugo, the weather is5
mild, very unlike winter weather; but I am a Sicilian, you
know, and shiver in your Julys here. To be sure, when
'twas full summer at Messina, as we priests used to cross
in procession the great square on Assumption Day, you
might see our thickest yellow tapers twist suddenly in10
two, each like a falling star, or sink down on themselves
in a gore of wax. But go, my friends, but go! [To the
Intendant.] Not you, Ugo! [The others leave the apartment.]
I have long wanted to converse with you, Ugo.
desire life now, that I may recompense every one of you.
Most I know something of already. What, a repast prepared?
Benedicto benedicatur—ugh, ugh! Where was
I? Oh, as you were remarking, Ugo, the weather is5
mild, very unlike winter weather; but I am a Sicilian, you
know, and shiver in your Julys here. To be sure, when
'twas full summer at Messina, as we priests used to cross
in procession the great square on Assumption Day, you
might see our thickest yellow tapers twist suddenly in10
two, each like a falling star, or sink down on themselves
in a gore of wax. But go, my friends, but go! [To the
Intendant.] Not you, Ugo! [The others leave the apartment.]
I have long wanted to converse with you, Ugo.
Intendant. Uguccio—15
Monsignor. ... 'guccio Stefani, man! of Ascoli,
Fermo and Fossombruno—what I do need instructing
about are these accounts of your administration of my
poor brother's affairs. Ugh! I shall never get through a
third part of your accounts; take some of these dainties20
before we attempt it, however. Are you bashful to that
degree? For me, a crust and water suffice.
Fermo and Fossombruno—what I do need instructing
about are these accounts of your administration of my
poor brother's affairs. Ugh! I shall never get through a
third part of your accounts; take some of these dainties20
before we attempt it, however. Are you bashful to that
degree? For me, a crust and water suffice.
Intendant. Do you choose this especial night to question
me?
me?
Monsignor. This night, Ugo. You have managed my25
late brother's affairs since the death of our elder brother
—fourteen years and a month, all but three days. On
the Third of December, I find him—
late brother's affairs since the death of our elder brother
—fourteen years and a month, all but three days. On
the Third of December, I find him—
Intendant. If you have so intimate an acquaintance
with your brother's affairs, you will be tender of turning30
so far back: they will hardly bear looking into, so far back.
with your brother's affairs, you will be tender of turning30
so far back: they will hardly bear looking into, so far back.
Monsignor. Aye, aye, ugh, ugh—nothing but disappointments
here below! I remark a considerable payment
made to yourself on this Third of December. Talk
of disappointments! There was a young fellow here,35
Jules, a foreign sculptor I did my utmost to advance, that
the Church might be a gainer by us both; he was going
on hopefully enough, and of a sudden he notifies to me
some marvelous change that has happened in his notions
of Art. Here's his letter: "He never had a clearly conceived40
Ideal within his brain till today. Yet since his hand
could manage a chisel, he has practiced expressing other
men's Ideals; and, in the very perfection he has attained
to, he foresees an ultimate failure: his unconscious hand
will pursue its prescribed course of old years, and will reproduce45
with a fatal expertness the ancient types, let the
novel one appear never so palpably to his spirit. There
is but one method of escape: confiding the virgin type to
as chaste a hand, he will turn painter instead of sculptor,
and paint, not carve, its characteristics"—strike out, I50
dare say, a school like Correggio: how think you, Ugo?
here below! I remark a considerable payment
made to yourself on this Third of December. Talk
of disappointments! There was a young fellow here,35
Jules, a foreign sculptor I did my utmost to advance, that
the Church might be a gainer by us both; he was going
on hopefully enough, and of a sudden he notifies to me
some marvelous change that has happened in his notions
of Art. Here's his letter: "He never had a clearly conceived40
Ideal within his brain till today. Yet since his hand
could manage a chisel, he has practiced expressing other
men's Ideals; and, in the very perfection he has attained
to, he foresees an ultimate failure: his unconscious hand
will pursue its prescribed course of old years, and will reproduce45
with a fatal expertness the ancient types, let the
novel one appear never so palpably to his spirit. There
is but one method of escape: confiding the virgin type to
as chaste a hand, he will turn painter instead of sculptor,
and paint, not carve, its characteristics"—strike out, I50
dare say, a school like Correggio: how think you, Ugo?
Intendant. Is Correggio a painter?
Monsignor. Foolish Jules! and yet, after all, why
foolish? He may—probably will—fail egregiously; but
if there should arise a new painter, will it not be in some55
such way, by a poet now, or a musician (spirits who have
conceived and perfected an Ideal through some other
channel), transferring it to this, and escaping our conventional
roads by pure ignorance of them; eh, Ugo? If
you have no appetite, talk at least, Ugo!60
foolish? He may—probably will—fail egregiously; but
if there should arise a new painter, will it not be in some55
such way, by a poet now, or a musician (spirits who have
conceived and perfected an Ideal through some other
channel), transferring it to this, and escaping our conventional
roads by pure ignorance of them; eh, Ugo? If
you have no appetite, talk at least, Ugo!60
Intendant. Sir, I can submit no longer to this course
of yours. First, you select the group of which I formed
one—next you thin it gradually—always retaining me
with your smile—and so do you proceed till you have
fairly got me alone with you between four stone walls.65
And now then? Let this farce, this chatter, end now;
what is it you want with me?
of yours. First, you select the group of which I formed
one—next you thin it gradually—always retaining me
with your smile—and so do you proceed till you have
fairly got me alone with you between four stone walls.65
And now then? Let this farce, this chatter, end now;
what is it you want with me?
Monsignor. Ugo!
Intendant. From the instant you arrived, I felt your
smile on me as you questioned me about this and the70
other article in those papers—why your brother should
have given me this villa, that podere—and your nod at
the end meant—what?
smile on me as you questioned me about this and the70
other article in those papers—why your brother should
have given me this villa, that podere—and your nod at
the end meant—what?
Monsignor. Possibly that I wished for no loud talk
here. If once you set me coughing, Ugo!—75
here. If once you set me coughing, Ugo!—75
Intendant. I have your brother's hand and seal to all I
possess: now ask me what for! what service I did him—ask me!
possess: now ask me what for! what service I did him—ask me!
Monsignor. I would better not: I should rip up old
disgraces, let out my poor brother's weaknesses. By the80
way, Maffeo of Forli (which, I forgot to observe, is
your true name), was the interdict ever taken off you,
for robbing that church at Cesena?
disgraces, let out my poor brother's weaknesses. By the80
way, Maffeo of Forli (which, I forgot to observe, is
your true name), was the interdict ever taken off you,
for robbing that church at Cesena?
Intendant. No, nor needs be; for when I murdered
your brother's friend, Pasquale, for him—85
your brother's friend, Pasquale, for him—85
Monsignor. Ah, he employed you in that business,
did he? Well, I must let you keep, as you say, this villa
and that podere, for fear the world should find out my
relations were of so indifferent a stamp? Maffeo, my family
is the oldest in Messina, and century after century90
have my progenitors gone on polluting themselves with
every wickedness under heaven: my own father—rest his
soul!—I have, I know, a chapel to support that it may
rest; my dear two dead brothers were—what you know
tolerably well; I, the youngest, might have rivaled them95
in vice, if not in wealth: but from my boyhood I came
out from among them, and so am not partaker of their
plagues. My glory springs from another source; or if
from this, by contrast only—for I, the bishop, am the
brother of your employers, Ugo. I hope to repair some100
of their wrong, however; so far as my brother's ill-gotten
treasure reverts to me, I can stop the consequences
of his crime—and not one soldo shall escape me. Maffeo,
the sword we quiet men spurn away, you shrewd knaves
pick up and commit murders with; what opportunities105
the virtuous forego, the villainous seize. Because, to
pleasure myself, apart from other considerations, my
food would be millet-cake, my dress sackcloth, and my
couch straw—am I therefore to let you, the offscouring
of the earth, seduce the poor and ignorant by appropriating110
a pomp these will be sure to think lessens the abominations
so unaccountably and exclusively associated with
it? Must I let villas and poderi go to you, a murderer
and thief, that you may beget by means of them other
murderers and thieves? No—if my cough would but115
allow me to speak!
did he? Well, I must let you keep, as you say, this villa
and that podere, for fear the world should find out my
relations were of so indifferent a stamp? Maffeo, my family
is the oldest in Messina, and century after century90
have my progenitors gone on polluting themselves with
every wickedness under heaven: my own father—rest his
soul!—I have, I know, a chapel to support that it may
rest; my dear two dead brothers were—what you know
tolerably well; I, the youngest, might have rivaled them95
in vice, if not in wealth: but from my boyhood I came
out from among them, and so am not partaker of their
plagues. My glory springs from another source; or if
from this, by contrast only—for I, the bishop, am the
brother of your employers, Ugo. I hope to repair some100
of their wrong, however; so far as my brother's ill-gotten
treasure reverts to me, I can stop the consequences
of his crime—and not one soldo shall escape me. Maffeo,
the sword we quiet men spurn away, you shrewd knaves
pick up and commit murders with; what opportunities105
the virtuous forego, the villainous seize. Because, to
pleasure myself, apart from other considerations, my
food would be millet-cake, my dress sackcloth, and my
couch straw—am I therefore to let you, the offscouring
of the earth, seduce the poor and ignorant by appropriating110
a pomp these will be sure to think lessens the abominations
so unaccountably and exclusively associated with
it? Must I let villas and poderi go to you, a murderer
and thief, that you may beget by means of them other
murderers and thieves? No—if my cough would but115
allow me to speak!
Intendant. What am I to expect? You are going to punish me?
Monsignor. Must punish you, Maffeo. I cannot
afford to cast away a chance. I have whole centuries of
sin to redeem, and only a month or two of life to do it in.120
How should I dare to say—
afford to cast away a chance. I have whole centuries of
sin to redeem, and only a month or two of life to do it in.120
How should I dare to say—
Intendant. "Forgive us our trespasses"?
Monsignor. My friend, it is because I avow myself a
very worm, sinful beyond measure, that I reject a line of
conduct you would applaud perhaps. Shall I proceed,125
as it were, a-pardoning?—I?—who have no symptom
of reason to assume that aught less than my strenuousest
efforts will keep myself out of mortal sin, much less
keep others out. No: I do trespass, but will not double
that by allowing you to trespass.130
very worm, sinful beyond measure, that I reject a line of
conduct you would applaud perhaps. Shall I proceed,125
as it were, a-pardoning?—I?—who have no symptom
of reason to assume that aught less than my strenuousest
efforts will keep myself out of mortal sin, much less
keep others out. No: I do trespass, but will not double
that by allowing you to trespass.130
Intendant. And suppose the villas are not your
brother's to give, nor yours to take? Oh, you are hasty
enough just now!
brother's to give, nor yours to take? Oh, you are hasty
enough just now!
Monsignor. 1, 2—No. 3!—aye, can you read the substance
of a letter, No. 3, I have received from Rome? It135
is precisely on the ground there mentioned, of the suspicion
I have that a certain child of my late elder brother, who
would have succeeded to his estates, was murdered in
infancy by you, Maffeo, at the instigation of my late
younger brother—that the Pontiff enjoins on me not140
merely the bringing that Maffeo to condign punishment,
but the taking all pains, as guardian of the infant's heritage
for the Church, to recover it parcel by parcel, howsoever,
whensoever, and wheresoever. While you are now
gnawing those fingers, the police are engaged in sealing145
up your papers, Maffeo, and the mere raising my voice
brings my people from the next room to dispose of yourself.
But I want you to confess quietly, and save me raising
my voice. Why, man, do I not know the old story?
The heir between the succeeding heir, and this heir's150
ruffianly instrument, and their complot's effect, and the
life of fear and bribes and ominous smiling silence? Did
you throttle or stab my brother's infant? Come now!
of a letter, No. 3, I have received from Rome? It135
is precisely on the ground there mentioned, of the suspicion
I have that a certain child of my late elder brother, who
would have succeeded to his estates, was murdered in
infancy by you, Maffeo, at the instigation of my late
younger brother—that the Pontiff enjoins on me not140
merely the bringing that Maffeo to condign punishment,
but the taking all pains, as guardian of the infant's heritage
for the Church, to recover it parcel by parcel, howsoever,
whensoever, and wheresoever. While you are now
gnawing those fingers, the police are engaged in sealing145
up your papers, Maffeo, and the mere raising my voice
brings my people from the next room to dispose of yourself.
But I want you to confess quietly, and save me raising
my voice. Why, man, do I not know the old story?
The heir between the succeeding heir, and this heir's150
ruffianly instrument, and their complot's effect, and the
life of fear and bribes and ominous smiling silence? Did
you throttle or stab my brother's infant? Come now!
Intendant. So old a story, and tell it no better?
When did such an instrument ever produce such an155
effect? Either the child smiles in his face, or, most likely,
he is not fool enough to put himself in the employer's
power so thoroughly; the child is always ready to produce—as
you say—howsoever, wheresoever, and whensoever.
When did such an instrument ever produce such an155
effect? Either the child smiles in his face, or, most likely,
he is not fool enough to put himself in the employer's
power so thoroughly; the child is always ready to produce—as
you say—howsoever, wheresoever, and whensoever.
Monsignor. Liar!160
Intendant. Strike me? Ah, so might a father chastise!
I shall sleep soundly tonight at least, though the gallows
await me tomorrow; for what a life did I lead! Carlo of
Cesena reminds me of his connivance, every time I pay
his annuity; which happens commonly thrice a year. If I165
remonstrate, he will confess all to the good bishop—you!
I shall sleep soundly tonight at least, though the gallows
await me tomorrow; for what a life did I lead! Carlo of
Cesena reminds me of his connivance, every time I pay
his annuity; which happens commonly thrice a year. If I165
remonstrate, he will confess all to the good bishop—you!
Monsignor. I see through the trick, caitiff! I would
you spoke truth for once. All shall be sifted, however—seven
times sifted.
you spoke truth for once. All shall be sifted, however—seven
times sifted.
Intendant. And how my absurd riches encumbered170
me! I dared not lay claim to above half my possessions.
Let me but once unbosom myself, glorify Heaven, and die!
me! I dared not lay claim to above half my possessions.
Let me but once unbosom myself, glorify Heaven, and die!
Sir, you are no brutal, dastardly idiot like your brother
I frightened to death: let us understand one another. Sir,
I will make away with her for you—the girl—here close175
at hand; not the stupid obvious kind of killing; do not
speak—know nothing of her nor of me! I see her every
day—saw her this morning. Of course there is to be no
killing; but at Rome the courtesans perish off every three
years, and I can entice her thither—have indeed begun180
operations already. There's a certain lusty, blue-eyed,
florid-complexioned English knave I and the Police employ
occasionally. You assent, I perceive—no, that's not
it—assent I do not say—but you will let me convert my
present havings and holdings into cash, and give me time185
to cross the Alps? Tis but a little black-eyed, pretty
singing Felippa, gay, silk-winding girl. I have kept her
out of harm's way up to this present; for I always intended
to make your life a plague to you with her. 'Tis
as well settled once and forever. Some women I have190
procured will pass Bluphocks, my handsome scoundrel,
off for somebody; and once Pippa entangled!—you
conceive? Through her singing? Is it a bargain?
I frightened to death: let us understand one another. Sir,
I will make away with her for you—the girl—here close175
at hand; not the stupid obvious kind of killing; do not
speak—know nothing of her nor of me! I see her every
day—saw her this morning. Of course there is to be no
killing; but at Rome the courtesans perish off every three
years, and I can entice her thither—have indeed begun180
operations already. There's a certain lusty, blue-eyed,
florid-complexioned English knave I and the Police employ
occasionally. You assent, I perceive—no, that's not
it—assent I do not say—but you will let me convert my
present havings and holdings into cash, and give me time185
to cross the Alps? Tis but a little black-eyed, pretty
singing Felippa, gay, silk-winding girl. I have kept her
out of harm's way up to this present; for I always intended
to make your life a plague to you with her. 'Tis
as well settled once and forever. Some women I have190
procured will pass Bluphocks, my handsome scoundrel,
off for somebody; and once Pippa entangled!—you
conceive? Through her singing? Is it a bargain?
[From without is heard the voice of Pippa, singing.
Overhead the tree-tops meet,
Flowers and grass spring 'neath one's feet;195
There was naught above me, naught below,
My childhood had not learned to know:
For, what are the voices of birds
—Aye, and of beasts—but words, our words,
Only so much more sweet?200
The knowledge of that with my life begun.
But I had so near made out the sun,
And counted your stars, the seven and one;
Like the fingers of my hand:
Nay, I could all but understand205
Wherefore through heaven the white moon ranges;
And just when out of her soft fifty changes
No unfamiliar face might overlook me—
Suddenly God took me.
Flowers and grass spring 'neath one's feet;195
There was naught above me, naught below,
My childhood had not learned to know:
For, what are the voices of birds
—Aye, and of beasts—but words, our words,
Only so much more sweet?200
The knowledge of that with my life begun.
But I had so near made out the sun,
And counted your stars, the seven and one;
Like the fingers of my hand:
Nay, I could all but understand205
Wherefore through heaven the white moon ranges;
And just when out of her soft fifty changes
No unfamiliar face might overlook me—
Suddenly God took me.