BROWNING'S ITALY (18 page)

my emblem! Mine's the swan-like nature born to fly unfettered Over land and sea in search of knowledge — food for song. Art denied the vulgär! Geese grow fat on barley, Swans require ethereal provend, undesirous to resemble

'em — Soar to seek Apollo — favored with a parley Such as, Master, you grant me — who will not hold you long.

"Leave to learn to sing — for that your swan petitions: Master, who possess the secret, say not nay to such a suitor! All I ask is — bless mine, purest of ambitions! Grant me leave to make my kind wise, free, and happy!

How? Just by making me — as you are mine — their model! Geese have goose-thoughts: make a swan their teacher first,

then coadjutor, — Let him introduce swan-notions to each noddle, — Geese will soon grow swans, and men become what I am

now!

"That's the only magic — had but fools discernment, Could they probe and pass into the solid through the soft and

seeming! Teach me such true magic — now, and no adjournment! Teach your art of making fools subserve the man of mind!

THE ITALIAN SCHOLAR 181

Magic is the power we men of mind should practice, Draw fools to become onr drudges — docile henceforth,

never dreaming — While they do our hests for fancied gain — the fact is What they toil and moil to get proves falsehood: truth's

behind!

"See now! you conceive some fabric — say, a mansion Meet for monarch's pride and pleasure: this is truth — a

thought has fired you, Made you fain to give some cramped concept expansion, Put your faculty to proof, fulfil your nature's task, First you fascinate the monarch's seif: he fancies He it was devised the scheine you execute as he inspired you: He in turn set slaving insignificances Toiling, moiling tili your structure Stands there — all youask!

"Soon the monarch's known for what he was — a ninny: Soon the rabble-rout leave labor, take their work-day wage

and vanish: Soon the late puffed bladder, pricked, shows lank and

skinny -'Who was its inflator?' ask we, 'whose the giant lungs?' Petri en pulmoneal What though men prove ingrates ? Let them — so they stop at crucifbrion — buffet, ban and

banish! Peter's power's apparent: human praise — its din grates Harsh as blame on ear unused to aught save angels' tongues.

"Ay, there have been always, since our world existed, Mages who possessed the secret—needed but to stand still,

fix eye On the foolish mortal: stralght was he enlisted Soldier, scholar, servant, slave—no matter for the style!

Only through illusion; ever what seemed profit — Love or lucre — justified obedience to the Ipse dixi: Work done — palace reared from pavement up to soffit — Was it stränge if builders smelt out cheating all the while ?

"Let them pelt and pound, bruise, bray you in a mortar! What's the odds to you who seek reward of quite another

nature? You've enrolled your name where sages of your sort are, — Michael of Constantinople, Hans of Halberstadt! Nay and were you nameless, still you've your conviction You it was and only you — what signifies the nomenclature ?— Ruled the world in fact, though how you ruled be fiction Fit for fools: true wisdom's magic you — if e'er man — had t'!

"But perhaps you ask me, 'Since each ignoramus

While he profits by such magic persecutes the benefactor,

What should I expect but — once I render f amous

You as Michael, Hans, and Peter — just one ingrate more ?

If the vulgär prove thus, whatsoe'er the pelf be,

Pouched through my beneficence — and doom me dun-

geoned, chained, or racked, or Fairly burned outright — how grateful will yourself be When, his secret gained, you match your — master just

before?'

"That's where I await you! Please, revert a little!

What do folk report about you if not this — which, though

chimeric, Still, as figurative, suits you to a tittle — That, — although the elements obey your nod and wink, Fades or flowers the herb you chance to smile or sigh at, While your frown bids earth quake palled by obscuration

atmospheric, —»

THE ITALIAN SCHOLAR 183

Brief, although through nature naught resists your fiat, There's yet one poor substance mocks you — milk you may not drink!

" Figurati ve language! Take my explanation!

Farne with fear, and hate with homage, these your art pro-

cures in plenty. All's but daily dry bread: what makes moist the ration? Love, the milk that sweetens man his meal — alas, you lack: I am he who, since he fears you not, can love you. Love is born of heart not mind, de corde naius haud de menie; Touch my heart and love's yours, sure as shines above you Sun by day and star by night though earth should go to

wrack!

"Stage by stage you lift me — kiss by kiss I hallow Whose but your dear hand my helper, punctual as at each

new impulse I approach my aim ? Shell chipped, the eaglet callow Needs a parent's pinion-push to quit the eyrie's edge: But once fairly launched forth, denizen of ether, While each effort sunward bids the blood more freely through

each limb pulse, Sure the parent feels, as gay they soar together, Fully are all pains repaid when love redeems its pledge!"

Then did Peter's tristful visage lighten somewhat,

Vent a watery smile as though inveterate mistrust were thaw-

ing. "Well, who knows?" he slow broke silence. "Mortals—

come what Come there may — are still the dupes of hope there's luck

in störe. Many scholars seek me, promise mounts and marvels:

Here stand I to witness how they step 'twixt me and clapper-

clawing! Dry bread, — that IVe gained me: truly I should starve eise: But of milk, no drop was mine! Well, shuffle cards once

more!"

At the word of promise thus implied, our stranger — What can he but cast his arms, in rapture of embrace, round

Peter? "Hold! I choke!" the mage grunts. "Shall I in the manger Any longer play the dog? Approach, my calf, and feed! Bene . . . won't you wait for grace?" But sudden incense Wool-white, serpent-solid, curled up — perfume growing

sweet and sweeter Till it reached the young man's nose and seemed to win sense Soul and all from out his brain through nostril: yes, indeed!

Presently the young man rubbed his eyes. "Where am I? Too much bother over books! Some reverie has proved

amusing. What did Peter prate of ? Taith, my brow is clammy! How my head throbs, how my heart thumps! Can it be I

swooned ? Oh, I spoke my speech out — cribbed from Plato's tractate, Dosed him with 'the Fair and Good,' swore — Dog of Egypt

— I was choosing Plato's way to serve men! What's the hour? Exact eight! Home now, and to-morrow never mind how Plato mooned!

"Peter has the secret! Fair and Good are products (So he said) of Foul and Evil: one must bring to pass the other. Just as poisons grow drugs, steal through sundry odd ducts Doctors name and ultimately issue safe and changed. You'd abolish poisons, treat disease with dainties

THE ITALIAN SCHOLAR 185

Such as suit the sound and sane ? With all such kickshaws

vain you pother! Arsenic's the stuf? puts force into the faint eyes, Opium sets the brain to rights — by cark and care deranged.

"What, he's safe within door? — would escape — no ques-

tion — Thanks, since thanks and more I owe, and mean to pay in

time befitting. What most presses now is — after night's digestion, Peter, of thy precepts! — promptest practice of the same. Let me see! The wise man, first of all, scorns riches: But to scorn them must obtain them: none believes in his

permitting Gold to lie ungathered: who picks up, then pitches Gold away — philosophizes: none disputes his claim.

«

So with worldly honors: 'tis by abdicating, Incontestably he proves he could have kept the crown dis-

carded. Sulla cuts a figure, leaving off dictating: Simpletons laud private life? 'The grapes are sour,' laugh

we. So, again — but why continue ? All's tumultuous Here: my head's a-whirl with knowledge. Speedily shall be

rewarded He who taught me! Greeks prove ingrates ? So insult you

US?

When your teaching bears its first-fruits, Peter — wait and see!"

As the word, the deed proved; ere a brief year's passage, Fop — that fool he made the jokes on — now he made the jokes for, gratis:

Hunks — that hoarder, long left lonely in his crass age — Found now one appreciative deferential friend: Powder-paint-and-patch, Hag Jezebel — recovered, Strange to say, the power to please, got courtship tili she

cried Jam satisl Fop be-flattered, Hunks be-friended, Hag be-lovered — Nobody o'erlooked, save God — he soon attained his end.

As he lounged at ease one morning in his villa,

(Hag's the dowiy) estimated (Hunks' bequest) his coin in

coffer, Mused on how a fool's good word (Fop's word) could fill a Social circle with his praise, promote him man of mark, — All at once — "An old friend fain would see your Highness!" There stood Peter, skeleton and scarecrow, piain writ Phi~

lo-so-pher In the woe-worn face — for yellowness and dryness, Farchment — with a pair of eyes — one hope their feeble

spark.

"Did I counsel rightly? Have you, in accordance, Prospered greatly, dear my pupil ? Sure, at just the stage I

find you, When your hand may draw me forth f rom the mad war-dance Savages are leading round your master — down, not dead. Padua wants to burn me: balk them, let me linger Life out — rueful though its remnant — hid in some safe

hold behind you! Prostrate here I lie: quick, help with but a finger Lest I house in safety's seif — a tombstone o'er my head!

"Lodging, bite and sup, with — now and then — a copper —Alms for any poorer still, if such there be, — is all my asking.

THE ITALIAN SCHOLAR 187

Take me for your bedesman, — nay, if you think proper, Menial merely, — such my perfect passion for repose! Yes, from out your plenty Peter craves a pittance — Leave to thaw his frozen hands before the fire whereat

you're basking! Double though your debt were, grant this boon — remittance He proclaims of Obligation: 'tis himself that owes!"

" Venerated Master — can it be, such treatment

Learning meets with, magic fails to guard you from, by all

appearance? Strange! for, as you entered, — what the famous feat meant, I was füll of, — why you reared that fabric, Padua's boast. Nowise for man's pride, man's pleasure, did you slyly Raise it, but man's seat of rule whereby the world should

soon have clearance (Happy world) from such a rout as now so vilely Handies you — and hampers me, for which I grieve the most.

"Since if it got wind you now were my familiär,

How could I protect you — nay, defend myself against the

rabble ? Wait until the mob, now masters, willy-nilly are Servants as they should be: then has gratitude füll play! Surely this experience shows how unbefitting Tis that minds like mine should rot in ease and plenty.

Geese may gabble, Gorge, and keep the ground: but swans are soon for quitting Earthly fare — as fain would I, your swan, if taught the way.

"Teach me, then, to rule men, have them at my pleasure! Solely for their good, of course, — impart a secret worth

rewarding. Since the proper life's-prize! Tantalus's treasure

Aught beside proves, vanishes, and leaves no trace at all. Wait awhile, nor press for payment prematurely! Over-haste defrauds you. Thanks! since, — even while I

speak, — discarding Sloth and vain delights, I learn how — swiftiy, surely — Magic sways the sceptre, wears the crown and wields the ball!

"Gone again — what, is he? Taith, he's soon disposed of! Peter's precepts work already, put within my lump their

leaven! Ay, we needs must don glove would we pluck the rose — doff Silken garment would we climb the tree and take its fruit. Why sharp thorn, rough rind? To keep unviolated Either prize! We garland us, we mount from earth to feast

in heaven, Just because exist what once we estimated Hindrances which, better taught, as helps we now compute.

"Foolishly I turned disgusted from my fellows!

Pits of ignorance — to fill, and heaps of prejudices — to

level — Multitudes in motley, whites and blacks and yellows — What a hopeless task it seemed to discipline the host! Now I see my error. Vices act like virtues — Not alone because they guard — sharp thorns — the rose

we first dishevel, Not because they scrape, Scratch — rough rind — through

the dirt-shoes Bare feet ding to bole with, while the half-mooned boot we

boast.

"No, my aim is nobler, more disinterested! Man shall keep what seemed to thwart him, since it proves his true assistance,

THE ITALIAN SCHOLAR 189

Leads to ascertaining which head is the best head, Would he crown his body, rule its members — lawless eise. Ignorant the horse stares, by deficient vision Takes a man to be a monster, lets him mount, then, twice

the distance Horse could trot unridden, gallops — dream Elysian! — Dreaming that his dwarfish guide's a giant, — Jockeys teil 's."

Brief, so worked the spell, he promptly had a riddance: Heart and brain no longer feit the pricks which passed for

conscience-scruples: Free henceforth his feet, — Per Bacco, how they did dance Merrily through lets and checks that stopped the way before! Politics the prize now, — such adroit adviser, Opportune suggester, with the tact that triples and quadruples Merit in each measure, — never did the Kaiser Boast as subject such a statesman, friend, and something

more!

As he, up and down, one noonday, paced his closet

— Council o'er, each spark (his hint) blown flame, by col-

leagues' breath applauded, Strokes of statecraft hailed with "Salomo si ndssetl" (His the nostrum) — every throw for luck come double-six, — As he, pacing, hugged himself in satisfaction, Thump,— the door went. "What, the Kaiser? By none

eise were I def rauded Thus of well-earned solace. Since 'tis fate's exaction, — Enter, Liege my lord! Ha, Peter, you here? Teneor vixl"