Chapter 85

(There was one melon had improved our soup:But did not Cinoncino need the rindTo make a boat with? So I seem to think.)Law, Gospel, and the Church—from these we leapTo the very last revealment, easy ruleBefitting the well-born and thorough-bredO' the happy day we live in, not the darkO' the early rude and acorn-eating race."Behold," quoth James, "we bridle in a horseAnd turn his body as we would thereby!"Yea, but we change the bit to suit the growth,And rasp our colt's jaw with a rugged spike,We hasten to remit our managed steedWho wheels round at persuasion of a touch.Civilization bows to decency,The acknowledged use and wont: 't is manners—mildBut yet imperative law—which make the man.Thus do we pay the proper complimentTo rank, and that society of RomeHath so obliged us by its interest,Taken our client's part instinctively,As unaware defending its own cause.Whatdictumdoth Society lay downI' the case of one who hath a faithless wife?Wherewithal should the husband cleanse his way?Be patient and forgive? Oh, language fails,—Shrinks from depicturing his turpitude!For if wronged husband raise not hue and cry,Quod si maritus de adulterio nonConquereretur, he 's presumed a—foh!Presumitur leno:so, complain he must.But how complain? At your tribunal, lords?Far weighter challenge suits your sense, I wot!You sit not to have gentlemen proposeQuestions gentility can itself discuss.Did not you prove that to our brother Paul?The Abate,quum judicialiterProsequeretur, when he tried the law,Guidonis causam, in Count Guido's case,Accidit ipsi, this befell himself,Quod risum moverit et cachinnos, thatHe moved to mirth and cachinnation, allOr nearly all,fere in omnibusEtiam sensatis et cordatis, menStrong-sensed, sound-hearted, nay, the very Court,Ipsismet in judicibus, I might add,Non tamen dicam. In a cause like this,So multiplied were reasonsproandcon,Delicate, intertwisted and obscure,That Law refused loan of a finger-tipTo unravel, readjust the hopeless twine,Since, half-a-dozen steps outside Law's seat,There stood a foolish trifler with a toolA-dangle to no purpose by his side,Had clearly cut the embroilment in a trice.Asserunt enim unanimiterDoctores, for the Doctors all assert,That husbands,quod mariti, must be heldViles, cornuti reputantur, vile,Fronts branching forth a florid infamy,Si propriis manibus, if with their own hands,Non sumunt, they fail straight to take revenge,Vindictam, but expect the deed be doneBy the Court—expectant illam fieriPer judices, qui summopere rident, whichGives an enormous guffaw for reply,Et cachinnantur. For he ran away,Deliquit enim, just that he might 'scapeThe censure of both counsellors and crowd,Ut vulgi et Doctorum evitaretCensuram, and lest so he superaddTo loss of honor ignominy too,Et sic ne istam quoque ignominiamAmisso honori superadderet.My lords, my lords, the inconsiderate stepWas—we referred ourselves to Law at all!Twit me not with, "Law else had punished you!"Each punishment of the extra-legal step,To which the high-born preferably revert,Is ever for some oversight, some slipI' the taking vengeance, not for vengeance' self.A good thing, done unhandsomely, turns ill;And never yet lacked ill the law's rebuke.For pregnant instance, let us contemplateThe luck of Leonardus,—see at largeOf Sicily's Decisions sixty-first.This Leonard finds his wife is false: what then?He makes her own son snare her, and enticeOut of the town walls to a private walk,Wherein he slays her with commodity.They find her body half-devoured by dogs:Leonard is tried, convicted, punished, sentTo labor in the galleys seven years long:Why? For the murder? Nay, but for the mode!Malus modus occidendi, ruled the Court,An ugly mode of killing, nothing more!Another fructuous sample,—see "De ReCriminali," in Matthæus' divine piece.Another husband, in no better plight,Simulates absence, thereby tempts his wife;On whom he falls, out of sly ambuscade,Backed by a brother of his, and both of themArmed to the teeth with arms that law had blamed.Nimis dolose, overwilily,Fuisse operatum, did they work,Pronounced the law: had all been fairly doneLaw had not found him worthy, as she did,Of four years' exile. Why cite more? EnoughIs good as a feast—(unless a birthday-feastFor one's Cinuccio) so, we finish here.My lords, we rather need defend ourselvesInasmuch as, for a twinkling of an eye,We hesitatingly appealed to law,—Than need deny that, on mature advice,We blushingly bethought us, bade revengeBack to its simple proper private wayOf decent self-dealt gentlemanly death.Judges, here is the law, and here beside,The testimony! Look to it!Pause and breathe!So far is only too plain; we must watch:Bottini will scarce hazard an attackHere: best anticipate the fellow's play,And guard the weaker places—warily ask,What if considerations of a sort,Reasons of a kind, arise from out the strangePeculiar unforeseen new circumstanceOf this our (candor owns) abnormal act,To bar the right of us revenging so?"Impunity were otherwise your meed:Go slay your wife and welcome,"—may be urged,—"But why the innocent old couple slay,Pietro, Violante? You may do enough,Not too much, not exceed the golden mean:Neither brute-beast nor Pagan, Gentile, Jew,Nor Christian, no nor votarist of the mode,Is justified to push revenge so far!"No, indeed? Why, thou very sciolist!The actual wrong, Pompilia seemed to do,Was virtual wrong done by the parents here—Imposing her upon us as their child—Themselves allow: then, her fault was their fault,Her punishment be theirs accordingly!But wait a little, sneak not off so soon!Was this cheat solely harm to Guido, pray?The precious couple you call innocent,—Why, they were felons that Law failed to clutch,Qui ut fraudarent, who that they might rob,Legitime vocatos, folk law called,Ad fidei commissum, true heirs to the Trust,Partum supposuerunt, feigned this birth,Immemores reos factos esse, blindTo the fact that, guilty, they incurred thereby,Ultimi supplicii, hanging or what 's worse.Do you blame us that we turn Law's instruments,Not mere self-seekers,—mind the public weal,Nor make the private good our sole concern?That having—shall I say—secured a thief,Not simply we recover from his pouchThe stolen article our property,But also pounce upon our neighbor's purseWe opportunely find reposing there,And do him justice while we right ourselves?He owes us, for our part, a drubbing say,But owes our neighbor just a dance i' the airUnder the gallows: so, we throttle him.That neighbor's Law, that couple are the Thief,We are the over-ready to help Law—Zeal of her house hath eaten us up: for which,Can it be, Law intends to eat up us,Crudum Priamum, devour poor Priam raw,('T was Jupiter's own joke,) with babes to boot,Priamique pisinnos, in Homeric phrase?Shame!——and so ends my period prettily.But even,—prove the pair not culpable,Free as unborn babe from connivance at,Participation in, their daughter's fault:Ours the mistake. Is that a rare event?Non semel, it is anything but rare,In contingentia facti, that by chance,Impunes evaserunt, go scot-free,Qui, such well-meaning people as ourselves,Justo dolore moti, who aggrievedWith cause,apposuerunt manus, layRough hands,in innocentes, on wrong heads.Cite we an illustrative case in point:Mulier Smirnea quædam, good my lords,A gentlewoman lived in Smyrna once,Virum et filium ex eo conceptum, who,Both husband and her son begot by him,Killed,interfecerat, ex quo, because,Vir filium suum perdiderat, her spouseHad been beforehand with her, killed her son,Matrimonii primi, of a previous bed.Deinde accusata, then accused,Apud Dolabellam, before him that satProconsul,nec duabus cædibusContaminatam liberare, norTo liberate a woman doubly-dyedWith murder,voluit, made he up his mind,Nec condemnare, nor to doom to death,Justo dolore impulsam, one impelledBy just grief;sed remisit, but sent her upAd Areopagum, to the Hill of Mars,Sapientissimorum judicumCœtum, to that assembly of the sageParalleled only by my judges here;Ubi, cognito de causa, where, the causeWell weighed,responsum est, they gave reply,Ut ipsa et accusator, that both sidesO' the suit,redirent, should come back again,Post centum annos, after a hundred years,For judgment;et sic, by which sage decree,Duplici parricidio rea, oneConvicted of a double parricide,Quamvis etiam innocentem, though in truthOut of the pair, one innocent at leastShe,occidisset, plainly had put to death,Undequaque, yet she altogether 'scaped,Evasit impunis. See the case at lengthIn Valerius, fittingly styledMaximus,That eighth book of his Memorable Facts.Nor Cyriacus cites beside the mark:Similiter uxor quæ mandaverat,Just so, a lady who had taken care,Homicidium viri, that her lord be killed,Ex denegatione debiti.For denegation of a certain debt,Matrimonialis, he was loth to pay,Fuit pecuniaria mulcta, wasAmerced in a pecuniary mulet,Punita, et ad pœnam, and to pains,Temporalem, for a certain space of time,In monasterio, in a convent.(Ay,In monasterio!He mismanagesInwith the ablative, the accusative!I had hoped to have hitched the villain into verseFor a gift, this very day, a complete listO' the prepositions each with proper case,Telling a story, long was in my head.What prepositions take the accusative?Ad, to or at—who saw the cat?—down toOb, for, because of,keep her claws off!Tush!Law in a man takes the whole liberty:The muse is fettered: just as Ovid found!)And now, sea widens and the coast is clear.What of the dubious act you bade excuse?Surely things broaden, brighten, till at lengthRemains—so far from act that needs defence—Apology to make for act delayedOne minute, let alone eight mortal monthsOf hesitation! "Why procrastinate?"(Out with it, my Bottinius, ease thyself!)"Right, promptly done, is twice right: right delayedTurns wrong. We grant you should have killed your wife,But killed o' the moment, at the meeting herIn company with the priest: then did the tongueO' the Brazen Head give license, 'Time is now!'Wait to make mind up? 'Time is past' it peals.Friend, you are competent to masteryO' the passions that confessedly explainAn outbreak: you allow an interval,And then break out as if time's clock still clanged.You have forfeited your chance, and flat you fallInto the commonplace categoryOf men bound to go softly all their days,Obeying law."Now, which way make response?What was the answer Guido gave, himself?—That so to argue came of ignoranceHow honor bears a wound: "For, wound," said he,"My body, and the smart soon mends and ends:While, wound my soul where honor sits and rules,Longer the sufferance, stronger grows the pain,Beingex incontinenti, fresh as first."But try another tack, urge common senseBy way of contrast: say—Too true, my lords!We did demur, awhile did hesitate:Since husband sure should let a scruple speakEre he slay wife,—for his own safety, lords!Carpers abound in this misjudging world:Moreover, there 's a nicety in lawThat seems to justify them should they carp.Suppose the source of injury a son,—Father may slay such son yet run no risk:Why graced with such a privilege? BecauseA father so incensed with his own child,Or must have reason, or believe he has;Quia semper, seeing that in such event,Presumitur, the law is bound suppose,Quod capiat pater, that the sire must take,Bonum consilium pro filio,The best course as to what befits his boy,Through instinct,ex instinctu, of mere love,Amoris, and,paterni, fatherhood;Quam confidentiam, which confidence,Non habet, law declines to entertain,De viro, of the husband: where finds heAn instinct that compels him love his wife?Rather is he presumably her foe.So, let him ponder long in this bad worldEre do the simplest act of justice.ButAgain—and here we brush Bottini's breast—Object you, "See the danger of delay,Suppose a man murdered my friend last month:Had I come up and killed him for his painsIn rage, I had done right, allows the law:I meet him now and kill him in cold blood,I do wrong, equally allows the law:Wherein do actions differ, yours and mine?"In plenitudine intellectus es?Hast thy wits, Fisc? To take such slayer's life,Returns it life to thy slain friend at all?Had he stolen ring instead of stabbing friend,—To-day, to-morrow, or next century,Meeting the thief, thy ring upon his thumb,Thou justifiably hadst wrung it thence:So, couldst thou wrench thy friend's life back again,Though prisoned in the bosom of his foe,Why, law would look complacent on thy wrath.Our case is, that the thing we lost, we found:The honor, we were robbed of eight months since,Being recoverable at any dayBy death of the delinquent. Go thy ways!Ere thou hast learned law, will be much to do,As said the gaby while he shod the goose.Nay, if you urge me, interval was none!From the inn to the villa—blank or else a barOf adverse and contrarious incidentSolid between us and our just revenge!What with the priest who flourishes his blade,The wife who like a fury flings at us,The crowd—and then the capture, the appealTo Rome, the journey there, the jaunting thenceTo shelter at the House of Convertites,The visits to the Villa, and so forth,Where was one minute left us all this whileTo put in execution that revengeWe planned o' the instant?—as it were, plumped downO' the spot, some eight months since, which round sound egg,Rome, more propitious than our nest, should hatch!Object not, "You reached Rome on Christmas-eve,And, despite liberty to act at once,Waited a whole and indecorous week!"Hath so the Molinism, the canker, lords,Eaten to our bone? Is no religion left?No care for aught held holy by the Church?What, would you have us skip and miss those FeastsO' the Natal Time, must we go prosecuteSecular business on a sacred day?Should not the merest charity expect,Setting our poor concerns aside for once,We hurried to the song matutinalI' the Sistine, and pressed forward for the MassThe Cardinal that 's Camerlengo chants,Then rushed on to the blessing of the HatAnd Rapier, which the Pope sends to what princeHas done most detriment to the Infidel—And thereby whetted courage if 't were blunt?Meantime, allow we kept the house a week,Suppose not we were idle in our mew!Picture us raging here and raving there—"'Money?' I need none. 'Friends?' The word is null.Restore the white was on that shield of mineBorne at" ... wherever might be shield to bear."I see my grandsire, he who fought so wellAt" ... here find out and put in time and place,Or else invent the fight his grandsire fought:"I see this! I see that!"(See nothing else,Or I shall scarce see lamb's fry in an hour!What to the uncle, as I bid advanceThe smoking dish? "Fry suits a tender tooth!Behooves we care a little for our kin—You, Sir,—who care so much for cousinshipAs come to your poor loving nephew's feast!"He has the reversion of a long lease yet—Land to bequeath! He loves lamb's fry, I know!)Here fall to be considered those same sixQualities; what Bottini needs must callSo many aggravations of our crime,Parasite-growth upon mere murder's back.We summarily might dispose of suchBy some off-hand and jaunty fling, some skit—?"So, since there 's proved no crime to aggravate,A fico for your aggravations, Fisc!"No,—handle mischief rather,—play with spellsWere meant to raise a spirit, and laugh the whileWe show that did he rise we stand his match!Therefore, first aggravation: we made up—Over and above our simple murderous selves—A regular assemblage of armed men,Coadunatio armatorum,—ay,Unluckily it was the very judgeThat sits in judgment on our cause to-dayWho passed the law as Governor of Rome:"Four men armed"—though for lawful purpose, mark!Much more for an acknowledged crime—"shall die."We five were armed to the teeth, meant murder too?Why, that 's the very point that saves us, Fisc!Let me instruct you. Crime nor done nor meant,—You punish still who arm and congregate:For wherefore use bad means to a good end?Crime being meant not done,—you punish stillThe means to crime, whereon you haply pounce,Though accident have balked them of effect.But crime not only compassed but complete,Meant and done too? Why, since you have the end,Be that your sole concern, nor mind those meansNo longer to the purpose! Murdered we?(—Which, that our luck was in the present case,Quod contigisse in præsenti casu,Is palpable,manibus palpatum est—)Make murder out against us, nothing else!Of many crimes committed with a viewTo one main crime, Law overlooks the less,Intent upon the large. Suppose a manHaving in view commission of a theft,Climbs the town-wall: 't is for the theft he hangs,In case he stands convicted of such theft:Law remits whipping, due to who clomb wallThrough bravery or wantonness alone,Just to dislodge a daw's nest, plant a flag.So I interpret you the manly mindOf him about to judge both you and me,—Our Governor, who, being no Fisc, my Fisc,Cannot have blundered on ineptitude!Next aggravation,—that the arms themselvesWere specially of such forbidden sortThrough shape or length or breadth, as, prompt, Law plucksFrom single hand of solitary man,Making him pay the carriage with his life:Delatio armorum, arms against the rule,Contra formam constitutionis, ofPope Alexander's blessed memory.Such are the poniards with the double prong,Horn-like, when tines make bold the antlered buck,Each prong of brittle glass—wherewith to stabAnd break off short and so let fragment stickFast in the flesh to baffle surgery:Such being the Genoese blade with hooked edgeThat did us service at the villa here.Sed parcat mihi tam eximius vir,But,—let so rare a personage forgive,—Fisc, thy objection is a foppery!Thy charge runs that we killed three innocents:Killed, dost see? Then, if killed, what matter how?—By stick or stone, by sword or dagger, toolLong or tool short, round or triangular—Poor slain folk find small comfort in the choice!Means to an end, means to an end, my Fisc!Nature cries out, "Take the first arms you find!"Furor ministrat arma:where 's a stone?Unde mî lapidem, where darts for me?Unde sagittas?But subdue the bardAnd rationalize a little. Eight months since,Had we, or had we not, incurred your blameFor letting 'scape unpunished this bad pair?I think I proved that in last paragraph!Why did we so? Because our courage failed.Wherefore? Through lack of arms to fight the foe:We had no arms or merely lawful ones,An unimportant sword and blunderbuss,Against a foe, pollent in potency,Theamasius, and our vixen of a wife.Well then, how culpably do we gird loinAnd once more undertake the high emprise,Unless we load ourselves this second timeWith handsome superfluity of arms,Since better is "too much" than "not enough,"And "plus non vitiat," too much does no harm,Except in mathematics, sages say.Gather instruction from the parable!At first we are advised—"A lad hath hereSeven barley loaves and two small fishes: whatIs that among so many?" Aptly asked:But put that question twice and, quite as apt,The answer is, "Fragments, twelve baskets full!"And, while we speak of superabundance, flingWe word by the way to fools who cast their floutOn Guido—"Punishment were pardoned him,But here the punishment exceeds offence:He might be just, but he was cruel too!"Why, grant there seems a kind of crueltyIn downright stabbing people he could maim,(If so you stigmatize the stern and strict)Still, Guido meant no cruelty—may pleadTransgression of his mandate, over-zealO' the part of his companions: all he cravedWas, they should fray the faces of the folk,Merely disfigure, nowise make them die.Solummodo fassus est, he owns no more,Dedisse mandatum, than that he desired,Ad sfrisiandum, dicam, that they hackAnd hew, i' the customary phrase, his wife,Uxorem tantum, and no harm beside.If his instructions then be misconceived,Nay, disobeyed, impute you blame to him?Cite me no Panicollus to the point,As adverse! Oh, I quite expect his case—How certain noble youths of SicilyHaving good reason to mistrust their wives,Killed them and were absolved in consequence:While others who had gone beyond the needBy mutilation of each paramour—As Galba in the Horatian satire grieved—These were condemned to the galleys, cast for guiltExceeding simple murder of a wife.But why? Because of ugliness, and notCruelty, in the said revenge, I trow!Ex causa abscissionis partium;Qui nempe id facientes reputanturNaturæ inimici, man revoltsAgainst them as the natural enemy.Pray, grant to one who meant to slit the noseAnd slash the cheek and slur the mouth, at most,A somewhat more humane award than theseObtained, these natural enemies of man!Objectum funditus corruit, flat you fall,My Fisc! I waste no kick on you, but pass.Third aggravation: that our act was done—Not in the public street, where safety lies,Not in the by-place, caution may avoid,Wood, cavern, desert, spots contrived for crime,—But in the very house, home, nook and nest,O' the victims, murdered in their dwelling-place,In domo ac habitatione propria,Where all presumably is peace and joy.The spider, crime, pronounce we twice a pestWhen, creeping from congenial cottage, sheTaketh hold with her hands, to horrifyHis household more, i' the palace of the king.All three were housed and safe and confident.Moreover, the permission that our wifeShould have at lengthdomum pro carcere,Her own abode in place of prison—why,We ourselves granted, by our other selfAnd proxy Paolo: did we make such grant,Meaning a lure?—elude the vigilanceO' the jailer, lead her to commodious death,While we ostensibly relented?Ay,Just so did we, nor otherwise, my Fisc!Is vengeance lawful? We demand our right,But find it will be questioned or refusedBy jailer, turnkey, hangdog,—what know we?Pray, how is it we should conduct ourselves?To gain our private right—break public peace,Do you bid us?—trouble order with our broils?Endanger ... shall I shrink to own ... ourselves?—Who want no broken head nor bloody nose(While busied slitting noses, breaking heads)From the first tipstaff that may interfere!Nam quicquid sit, for howsoever it be,An de consensu nostro, if with leaveOr not,a monasterio, from the nuns,Educta esset, she had been led forth,Potuimus id dissimulare, weMay well have granted leave in pure pretence,Ut aditum habere, that therebyAn entry we might compass, a free movePotuissemus, to her easy death,Ad eam occidendam. PrivacyO' the hearth, and sanctitude of home, say you?Shall we give man's abode more privilegeThan God's?—for in the churches where he dwells,In quibus assistit Regum Rex, by meansOf his essence,per essentiam, all the same,Et nihilominus, therein,in eis,Ex justa via delinquens, whoso daresTo take a liberty on ground enough,Is pardoned,excusatur:that 's our case—Delinquent through befitting cause. You hold,To punish a false wife in her own houseIs graver than, what happens every day,To hale a debtor from his hiding-placeIn church protected by the Sacrament?To this conclusion have I brought my Fisc?Foxes have holes, and fowls o' the air their nests;Praise you the impiety that follows, Fisc?Shall false wife yet have where to lay her head?"Contra Fiscum definitum est!" He's done!"Surge et scribe," make a note of it!—If I may dally with Aquinas' word.Or in the death-throe does he mutter still,Fourth aggravation, that we changed our garb,And rusticized ourselves with uncouth hat,Rough vest and goatskin wrappage; murdered thusMutatione vestium, in disguise,Whereby mere murder got complexed with wile,Turnedhomicidium ex insidiis?Fisc,How often must I round thee in the ears—All means are lawful to a lawful end?Concede he had the right to kill his wife:The Count indulged in a travesty; why?De ilia ut vindictam sumeret,That on her he might lawful vengeance take,Commodius, with more ease,et tutius,And safelier: wants he warrant for the step?Read to thy profit how the Apostle onceFor ease and safety, when Damascus raged,Was let down in a basket by the wall,To 'scape the malice of the governor(Another sort of Governor boasts Rome!)—Many are of opinion,—covered close,Concealed with—what except that very cloakHe left behind at Troas afterward?I shall not add a syllable: Molinists may!Well, have we more to manage? Ay, indeed!Fifth aggravation, that our wife reposedSub potestate judicis, beneathProtection of the judge,—her house was styledA prison, and his power became its guardIn lieu of wall and gate and bolt and bar.This is a tough point, shrewd, redoubtable:Because we have to supplicate that judgeShall overlook wrong done the judgment-seat.Now, I might suffer my own nose be pulled,As man: but then as father ... if the FiscTouched one hair of my boy who held my handIn confidence he could not come to harmCrossing the Corso, at my own desire,Going to see those bodies in the church—What would you say to that, Don Hyacinth?This is the sole and single knotty point:For, bid Tommati blink his interest,You laud his magnanimity the while:But balk Tommati's office,—he talks big!"My predecessors in the place,—those sonsO' the prophets that may hope succeed me here,—Shall I diminish their prerogative?Count Guido Franceschini's honor!—well,Has the Governor of Rome none?"You perceive,The cards are all against us. Make a push,Kick over table, as shrewd gamesters do!We, do you say, encroach upon the rights,Deny the omnipotence o' the Judge forsooth?We, who have only been from first to lastIntending that his purpose should prevail,Nay more, at times, anticipating itAt risk of his rebuke?But wait awhile!Cannot we lump this with the sixth and lastOf the aggravations—that the MajestyO' the Sovereign here received a wound? to wit,Læsa Majestas, since our violenceWas out of envy to the course of law,In odium litis?We out short therebyThree pending suits, promoted by ourselvesI' the main,—which worsens crime,accedit adExasperationem criminis!Yes, here the eruptive wrath with full effect!How, did not indignation chain my tongue,Could I repel this last, worst charge of all!(There is a porcupine to barbecue;Gigia can jug a rabbit well enough,With sour-sweet sauce and pine-pips; but, good Lord,Suppose the devil instigate the wenchTo stew, not roast him? Stew my porcupine?If she does, I know where his quills shall stick!Come, I must go myself and see to things:I cannot stay much longer stewing here.)Our stomach ... I mean, our soul is stirred within,And we want words. We wounded Majesty?Fall under such a censure, we?—who yearnedSo much that Majesty dispel the cloudAnd shine on us with healing on her wings,That we prayed PopeMajestas'very selfTo anticipate a little the tardy pack,Bell us forth deep the authoritative bayShould start the beagles into sudden yelpUnisonous,—and, Gospel leading Law,Grant there assemble in our own behoofA Congregation, a particular Court,A few picked friends of quality and place,To hear the several matters in dispute,Causes big, little, and indifferent,Bred of our marriage like a mushroom-growth,All at once (can one brush off such too soon?)And so with laudable dispatch decideWhether we, in the main (to sink detail)Were one the Pope should hold fast or let go."What, take the credit from the Law?" you ask?Indeed, we did! Law ducks to Gospel here:Why should Law gain the glory and pronounceA judgment shall immortalize the Pope?Yes: our self-abnegating policyWas Joab's—we would rouse our David's sloth,Bid him encamp against a city, sackA place whereto ourselves had long laid seige,Lest, taking it at last, it take our nameNor be styledInnocentinopolis.But no! The modesty was in alarm,The temperance refused to interfere,Returned us our petition with the word"Ad judices suos," "Leave him to his Judge!"As who should say, "Why trouble my repose?Why consult Peter in a simple case,Peter's wife's sister in her fever-fitMight solve as readily as the Apostle's self?Are my Tribunals posed by aught so plain?Hath not my Court a conscience? It is of age,Ask it!"

(There was one melon had improved our soup:But did not Cinoncino need the rindTo make a boat with? So I seem to think.)

(There was one melon had improved our soup:

But did not Cinoncino need the rind

To make a boat with? So I seem to think.)

Law, Gospel, and the Church—from these we leapTo the very last revealment, easy ruleBefitting the well-born and thorough-bredO' the happy day we live in, not the darkO' the early rude and acorn-eating race."Behold," quoth James, "we bridle in a horseAnd turn his body as we would thereby!"Yea, but we change the bit to suit the growth,And rasp our colt's jaw with a rugged spike,We hasten to remit our managed steedWho wheels round at persuasion of a touch.Civilization bows to decency,The acknowledged use and wont: 't is manners—mildBut yet imperative law—which make the man.Thus do we pay the proper complimentTo rank, and that society of RomeHath so obliged us by its interest,Taken our client's part instinctively,As unaware defending its own cause.Whatdictumdoth Society lay downI' the case of one who hath a faithless wife?Wherewithal should the husband cleanse his way?Be patient and forgive? Oh, language fails,—Shrinks from depicturing his turpitude!For if wronged husband raise not hue and cry,Quod si maritus de adulterio nonConquereretur, he 's presumed a—foh!Presumitur leno:so, complain he must.But how complain? At your tribunal, lords?Far weighter challenge suits your sense, I wot!You sit not to have gentlemen proposeQuestions gentility can itself discuss.Did not you prove that to our brother Paul?The Abate,quum judicialiterProsequeretur, when he tried the law,Guidonis causam, in Count Guido's case,Accidit ipsi, this befell himself,Quod risum moverit et cachinnos, thatHe moved to mirth and cachinnation, allOr nearly all,fere in omnibusEtiam sensatis et cordatis, menStrong-sensed, sound-hearted, nay, the very Court,Ipsismet in judicibus, I might add,Non tamen dicam. In a cause like this,So multiplied were reasonsproandcon,Delicate, intertwisted and obscure,That Law refused loan of a finger-tipTo unravel, readjust the hopeless twine,Since, half-a-dozen steps outside Law's seat,There stood a foolish trifler with a toolA-dangle to no purpose by his side,Had clearly cut the embroilment in a trice.Asserunt enim unanimiterDoctores, for the Doctors all assert,That husbands,quod mariti, must be heldViles, cornuti reputantur, vile,Fronts branching forth a florid infamy,Si propriis manibus, if with their own hands,Non sumunt, they fail straight to take revenge,Vindictam, but expect the deed be doneBy the Court—expectant illam fieriPer judices, qui summopere rident, whichGives an enormous guffaw for reply,Et cachinnantur. For he ran away,Deliquit enim, just that he might 'scapeThe censure of both counsellors and crowd,Ut vulgi et Doctorum evitaretCensuram, and lest so he superaddTo loss of honor ignominy too,Et sic ne istam quoque ignominiamAmisso honori superadderet.My lords, my lords, the inconsiderate stepWas—we referred ourselves to Law at all!Twit me not with, "Law else had punished you!"Each punishment of the extra-legal step,To which the high-born preferably revert,Is ever for some oversight, some slipI' the taking vengeance, not for vengeance' self.A good thing, done unhandsomely, turns ill;And never yet lacked ill the law's rebuke.For pregnant instance, let us contemplateThe luck of Leonardus,—see at largeOf Sicily's Decisions sixty-first.This Leonard finds his wife is false: what then?He makes her own son snare her, and enticeOut of the town walls to a private walk,Wherein he slays her with commodity.They find her body half-devoured by dogs:Leonard is tried, convicted, punished, sentTo labor in the galleys seven years long:Why? For the murder? Nay, but for the mode!Malus modus occidendi, ruled the Court,An ugly mode of killing, nothing more!Another fructuous sample,—see "De ReCriminali," in Matthæus' divine piece.Another husband, in no better plight,Simulates absence, thereby tempts his wife;On whom he falls, out of sly ambuscade,Backed by a brother of his, and both of themArmed to the teeth with arms that law had blamed.Nimis dolose, overwilily,Fuisse operatum, did they work,Pronounced the law: had all been fairly doneLaw had not found him worthy, as she did,Of four years' exile. Why cite more? EnoughIs good as a feast—(unless a birthday-feastFor one's Cinuccio) so, we finish here.My lords, we rather need defend ourselvesInasmuch as, for a twinkling of an eye,We hesitatingly appealed to law,—Than need deny that, on mature advice,We blushingly bethought us, bade revengeBack to its simple proper private wayOf decent self-dealt gentlemanly death.Judges, here is the law, and here beside,The testimony! Look to it!Pause and breathe!So far is only too plain; we must watch:Bottini will scarce hazard an attackHere: best anticipate the fellow's play,And guard the weaker places—warily ask,What if considerations of a sort,Reasons of a kind, arise from out the strangePeculiar unforeseen new circumstanceOf this our (candor owns) abnormal act,To bar the right of us revenging so?"Impunity were otherwise your meed:Go slay your wife and welcome,"—may be urged,—"But why the innocent old couple slay,Pietro, Violante? You may do enough,Not too much, not exceed the golden mean:Neither brute-beast nor Pagan, Gentile, Jew,Nor Christian, no nor votarist of the mode,Is justified to push revenge so far!"

Law, Gospel, and the Church—from these we leap

To the very last revealment, easy rule

Befitting the well-born and thorough-bred

O' the happy day we live in, not the dark

O' the early rude and acorn-eating race.

"Behold," quoth James, "we bridle in a horse

And turn his body as we would thereby!"

Yea, but we change the bit to suit the growth,

And rasp our colt's jaw with a rugged spike,

We hasten to remit our managed steed

Who wheels round at persuasion of a touch.

Civilization bows to decency,

The acknowledged use and wont: 't is manners—mild

But yet imperative law—which make the man.

Thus do we pay the proper compliment

To rank, and that society of Rome

Hath so obliged us by its interest,

Taken our client's part instinctively,

As unaware defending its own cause.

Whatdictumdoth Society lay down

I' the case of one who hath a faithless wife?

Wherewithal should the husband cleanse his way?

Be patient and forgive? Oh, language fails,—

Shrinks from depicturing his turpitude!

For if wronged husband raise not hue and cry,

Quod si maritus de adulterio non

Conquereretur, he 's presumed a—foh!

Presumitur leno:so, complain he must.

But how complain? At your tribunal, lords?

Far weighter challenge suits your sense, I wot!

You sit not to have gentlemen propose

Questions gentility can itself discuss.

Did not you prove that to our brother Paul?

The Abate,quum judicialiter

Prosequeretur, when he tried the law,

Guidonis causam, in Count Guido's case,

Accidit ipsi, this befell himself,

Quod risum moverit et cachinnos, that

He moved to mirth and cachinnation, all

Or nearly all,fere in omnibus

Etiam sensatis et cordatis, men

Strong-sensed, sound-hearted, nay, the very Court,

Ipsismet in judicibus, I might add,

Non tamen dicam. In a cause like this,

So multiplied were reasonsproandcon,

Delicate, intertwisted and obscure,

That Law refused loan of a finger-tip

To unravel, readjust the hopeless twine,

Since, half-a-dozen steps outside Law's seat,

There stood a foolish trifler with a tool

A-dangle to no purpose by his side,

Had clearly cut the embroilment in a trice.

Asserunt enim unanimiter

Doctores, for the Doctors all assert,

That husbands,quod mariti, must be held

Viles, cornuti reputantur, vile,

Fronts branching forth a florid infamy,

Si propriis manibus, if with their own hands,

Non sumunt, they fail straight to take revenge,

Vindictam, but expect the deed be done

By the Court—expectant illam fieri

Per judices, qui summopere rident, which

Gives an enormous guffaw for reply,

Et cachinnantur. For he ran away,

Deliquit enim, just that he might 'scape

The censure of both counsellors and crowd,

Ut vulgi et Doctorum evitaret

Censuram, and lest so he superadd

To loss of honor ignominy too,

Et sic ne istam quoque ignominiam

Amisso honori superadderet.

My lords, my lords, the inconsiderate step

Was—we referred ourselves to Law at all!

Twit me not with, "Law else had punished you!"

Each punishment of the extra-legal step,

To which the high-born preferably revert,

Is ever for some oversight, some slip

I' the taking vengeance, not for vengeance' self.

A good thing, done unhandsomely, turns ill;

And never yet lacked ill the law's rebuke.

For pregnant instance, let us contemplate

The luck of Leonardus,—see at large

Of Sicily's Decisions sixty-first.

This Leonard finds his wife is false: what then?

He makes her own son snare her, and entice

Out of the town walls to a private walk,

Wherein he slays her with commodity.

They find her body half-devoured by dogs:

Leonard is tried, convicted, punished, sent

To labor in the galleys seven years long:

Why? For the murder? Nay, but for the mode!

Malus modus occidendi, ruled the Court,

An ugly mode of killing, nothing more!

Another fructuous sample,—see "De Re

Criminali," in Matthæus' divine piece.

Another husband, in no better plight,

Simulates absence, thereby tempts his wife;

On whom he falls, out of sly ambuscade,

Backed by a brother of his, and both of them

Armed to the teeth with arms that law had blamed.

Nimis dolose, overwilily,

Fuisse operatum, did they work,

Pronounced the law: had all been fairly done

Law had not found him worthy, as she did,

Of four years' exile. Why cite more? Enough

Is good as a feast—(unless a birthday-feast

For one's Cinuccio) so, we finish here.

My lords, we rather need defend ourselves

Inasmuch as, for a twinkling of an eye,

We hesitatingly appealed to law,—

Than need deny that, on mature advice,

We blushingly bethought us, bade revenge

Back to its simple proper private way

Of decent self-dealt gentlemanly death.

Judges, here is the law, and here beside,

The testimony! Look to it!

Pause and breathe!

So far is only too plain; we must watch:

Bottini will scarce hazard an attack

Here: best anticipate the fellow's play,

And guard the weaker places—warily ask,

What if considerations of a sort,

Reasons of a kind, arise from out the strange

Peculiar unforeseen new circumstance

Of this our (candor owns) abnormal act,

To bar the right of us revenging so?

"Impunity were otherwise your meed:

Go slay your wife and welcome,"—may be urged,—

"But why the innocent old couple slay,

Pietro, Violante? You may do enough,

Not too much, not exceed the golden mean:

Neither brute-beast nor Pagan, Gentile, Jew,

Nor Christian, no nor votarist of the mode,

Is justified to push revenge so far!"

No, indeed? Why, thou very sciolist!The actual wrong, Pompilia seemed to do,Was virtual wrong done by the parents here—Imposing her upon us as their child—Themselves allow: then, her fault was their fault,Her punishment be theirs accordingly!But wait a little, sneak not off so soon!Was this cheat solely harm to Guido, pray?The precious couple you call innocent,—Why, they were felons that Law failed to clutch,Qui ut fraudarent, who that they might rob,Legitime vocatos, folk law called,Ad fidei commissum, true heirs to the Trust,Partum supposuerunt, feigned this birth,Immemores reos factos esse, blindTo the fact that, guilty, they incurred thereby,Ultimi supplicii, hanging or what 's worse.Do you blame us that we turn Law's instruments,Not mere self-seekers,—mind the public weal,Nor make the private good our sole concern?That having—shall I say—secured a thief,Not simply we recover from his pouchThe stolen article our property,But also pounce upon our neighbor's purseWe opportunely find reposing there,And do him justice while we right ourselves?He owes us, for our part, a drubbing say,But owes our neighbor just a dance i' the airUnder the gallows: so, we throttle him.That neighbor's Law, that couple are the Thief,We are the over-ready to help Law—Zeal of her house hath eaten us up: for which,Can it be, Law intends to eat up us,Crudum Priamum, devour poor Priam raw,('T was Jupiter's own joke,) with babes to boot,Priamique pisinnos, in Homeric phrase?Shame!——and so ends my period prettily.

No, indeed? Why, thou very sciolist!

The actual wrong, Pompilia seemed to do,

Was virtual wrong done by the parents here—

Imposing her upon us as their child—

Themselves allow: then, her fault was their fault,

Her punishment be theirs accordingly!

But wait a little, sneak not off so soon!

Was this cheat solely harm to Guido, pray?

The precious couple you call innocent,—

Why, they were felons that Law failed to clutch,

Qui ut fraudarent, who that they might rob,

Legitime vocatos, folk law called,

Ad fidei commissum, true heirs to the Trust,

Partum supposuerunt, feigned this birth,

Immemores reos factos esse, blind

To the fact that, guilty, they incurred thereby,

Ultimi supplicii, hanging or what 's worse.

Do you blame us that we turn Law's instruments,

Not mere self-seekers,—mind the public weal,

Nor make the private good our sole concern?

That having—shall I say—secured a thief,

Not simply we recover from his pouch

The stolen article our property,

But also pounce upon our neighbor's purse

We opportunely find reposing there,

And do him justice while we right ourselves?

He owes us, for our part, a drubbing say,

But owes our neighbor just a dance i' the air

Under the gallows: so, we throttle him.

That neighbor's Law, that couple are the Thief,

We are the over-ready to help Law—

Zeal of her house hath eaten us up: for which,

Can it be, Law intends to eat up us,

Crudum Priamum, devour poor Priam raw,

('T was Jupiter's own joke,) with babes to boot,

Priamique pisinnos, in Homeric phrase?

Shame!——and so ends my period prettily.

But even,—prove the pair not culpable,Free as unborn babe from connivance at,Participation in, their daughter's fault:Ours the mistake. Is that a rare event?Non semel, it is anything but rare,In contingentia facti, that by chance,Impunes evaserunt, go scot-free,Qui, such well-meaning people as ourselves,Justo dolore moti, who aggrievedWith cause,apposuerunt manus, layRough hands,in innocentes, on wrong heads.Cite we an illustrative case in point:Mulier Smirnea quædam, good my lords,A gentlewoman lived in Smyrna once,Virum et filium ex eo conceptum, who,Both husband and her son begot by him,Killed,interfecerat, ex quo, because,Vir filium suum perdiderat, her spouseHad been beforehand with her, killed her son,Matrimonii primi, of a previous bed.Deinde accusata, then accused,Apud Dolabellam, before him that satProconsul,nec duabus cædibusContaminatam liberare, norTo liberate a woman doubly-dyedWith murder,voluit, made he up his mind,Nec condemnare, nor to doom to death,Justo dolore impulsam, one impelledBy just grief;sed remisit, but sent her upAd Areopagum, to the Hill of Mars,Sapientissimorum judicumCœtum, to that assembly of the sageParalleled only by my judges here;Ubi, cognito de causa, where, the causeWell weighed,responsum est, they gave reply,Ut ipsa et accusator, that both sidesO' the suit,redirent, should come back again,Post centum annos, after a hundred years,For judgment;et sic, by which sage decree,Duplici parricidio rea, oneConvicted of a double parricide,Quamvis etiam innocentem, though in truthOut of the pair, one innocent at leastShe,occidisset, plainly had put to death,Undequaque, yet she altogether 'scaped,Evasit impunis. See the case at lengthIn Valerius, fittingly styledMaximus,That eighth book of his Memorable Facts.Nor Cyriacus cites beside the mark:Similiter uxor quæ mandaverat,Just so, a lady who had taken care,Homicidium viri, that her lord be killed,Ex denegatione debiti.For denegation of a certain debt,Matrimonialis, he was loth to pay,Fuit pecuniaria mulcta, wasAmerced in a pecuniary mulet,Punita, et ad pœnam, and to pains,Temporalem, for a certain space of time,In monasterio, in a convent.

But even,—prove the pair not culpable,

Free as unborn babe from connivance at,

Participation in, their daughter's fault:

Ours the mistake. Is that a rare event?

Non semel, it is anything but rare,

In contingentia facti, that by chance,

Impunes evaserunt, go scot-free,

Qui, such well-meaning people as ourselves,

Justo dolore moti, who aggrieved

With cause,apposuerunt manus, lay

Rough hands,in innocentes, on wrong heads.

Cite we an illustrative case in point:

Mulier Smirnea quædam, good my lords,

A gentlewoman lived in Smyrna once,

Virum et filium ex eo conceptum, who,

Both husband and her son begot by him,

Killed,interfecerat, ex quo, because,

Vir filium suum perdiderat, her spouse

Had been beforehand with her, killed her son,

Matrimonii primi, of a previous bed.

Deinde accusata, then accused,

Apud Dolabellam, before him that sat

Proconsul,nec duabus cædibus

Contaminatam liberare, nor

To liberate a woman doubly-dyed

With murder,voluit, made he up his mind,

Nec condemnare, nor to doom to death,

Justo dolore impulsam, one impelled

By just grief;sed remisit, but sent her up

Ad Areopagum, to the Hill of Mars,

Sapientissimorum judicum

Cœtum, to that assembly of the sage

Paralleled only by my judges here;

Ubi, cognito de causa, where, the cause

Well weighed,responsum est, they gave reply,

Ut ipsa et accusator, that both sides

O' the suit,redirent, should come back again,

Post centum annos, after a hundred years,

For judgment;et sic, by which sage decree,

Duplici parricidio rea, one

Convicted of a double parricide,

Quamvis etiam innocentem, though in truth

Out of the pair, one innocent at least

She,occidisset, plainly had put to death,

Undequaque, yet she altogether 'scaped,

Evasit impunis. See the case at length

In Valerius, fittingly styledMaximus,

That eighth book of his Memorable Facts.

Nor Cyriacus cites beside the mark:

Similiter uxor quæ mandaverat,

Just so, a lady who had taken care,

Homicidium viri, that her lord be killed,

Ex denegatione debiti.

For denegation of a certain debt,

Matrimonialis, he was loth to pay,

Fuit pecuniaria mulcta, was

Amerced in a pecuniary mulet,

Punita, et ad pœnam, and to pains,

Temporalem, for a certain space of time,

In monasterio, in a convent.

(Ay,In monasterio!He mismanagesInwith the ablative, the accusative!I had hoped to have hitched the villain into verseFor a gift, this very day, a complete listO' the prepositions each with proper case,Telling a story, long was in my head.What prepositions take the accusative?Ad, to or at—who saw the cat?—down toOb, for, because of,keep her claws off!Tush!Law in a man takes the whole liberty:The muse is fettered: just as Ovid found!)

(Ay,

In monasterio!He mismanages

Inwith the ablative, the accusative!

I had hoped to have hitched the villain into verse

For a gift, this very day, a complete list

O' the prepositions each with proper case,

Telling a story, long was in my head.

What prepositions take the accusative?

Ad, to or at—who saw the cat?—down to

Ob, for, because of,keep her claws off!Tush!

Law in a man takes the whole liberty:

The muse is fettered: just as Ovid found!)

And now, sea widens and the coast is clear.What of the dubious act you bade excuse?Surely things broaden, brighten, till at lengthRemains—so far from act that needs defence—Apology to make for act delayedOne minute, let alone eight mortal monthsOf hesitation! "Why procrastinate?"(Out with it, my Bottinius, ease thyself!)"Right, promptly done, is twice right: right delayedTurns wrong. We grant you should have killed your wife,But killed o' the moment, at the meeting herIn company with the priest: then did the tongueO' the Brazen Head give license, 'Time is now!'Wait to make mind up? 'Time is past' it peals.Friend, you are competent to masteryO' the passions that confessedly explainAn outbreak: you allow an interval,And then break out as if time's clock still clanged.You have forfeited your chance, and flat you fallInto the commonplace categoryOf men bound to go softly all their days,Obeying law."

And now, sea widens and the coast is clear.

What of the dubious act you bade excuse?

Surely things broaden, brighten, till at length

Remains—so far from act that needs defence—

Apology to make for act delayed

One minute, let alone eight mortal months

Of hesitation! "Why procrastinate?"

(Out with it, my Bottinius, ease thyself!)

"Right, promptly done, is twice right: right delayed

Turns wrong. We grant you should have killed your wife,

But killed o' the moment, at the meeting her

In company with the priest: then did the tongue

O' the Brazen Head give license, 'Time is now!'

Wait to make mind up? 'Time is past' it peals.

Friend, you are competent to mastery

O' the passions that confessedly explain

An outbreak: you allow an interval,

And then break out as if time's clock still clanged.

You have forfeited your chance, and flat you fall

Into the commonplace category

Of men bound to go softly all their days,

Obeying law."

Now, which way make response?What was the answer Guido gave, himself?—That so to argue came of ignoranceHow honor bears a wound: "For, wound," said he,"My body, and the smart soon mends and ends:While, wound my soul where honor sits and rules,Longer the sufferance, stronger grows the pain,Beingex incontinenti, fresh as first."But try another tack, urge common senseBy way of contrast: say—Too true, my lords!We did demur, awhile did hesitate:Since husband sure should let a scruple speakEre he slay wife,—for his own safety, lords!Carpers abound in this misjudging world:Moreover, there 's a nicety in lawThat seems to justify them should they carp.Suppose the source of injury a son,—Father may slay such son yet run no risk:Why graced with such a privilege? BecauseA father so incensed with his own child,Or must have reason, or believe he has;Quia semper, seeing that in such event,Presumitur, the law is bound suppose,Quod capiat pater, that the sire must take,Bonum consilium pro filio,The best course as to what befits his boy,Through instinct,ex instinctu, of mere love,Amoris, and,paterni, fatherhood;Quam confidentiam, which confidence,Non habet, law declines to entertain,De viro, of the husband: where finds heAn instinct that compels him love his wife?Rather is he presumably her foe.So, let him ponder long in this bad worldEre do the simplest act of justice.

Now, which way make response?

What was the answer Guido gave, himself?

—That so to argue came of ignorance

How honor bears a wound: "For, wound," said he,

"My body, and the smart soon mends and ends:

While, wound my soul where honor sits and rules,

Longer the sufferance, stronger grows the pain,

Beingex incontinenti, fresh as first."

But try another tack, urge common sense

By way of contrast: say—Too true, my lords!

We did demur, awhile did hesitate:

Since husband sure should let a scruple speak

Ere he slay wife,—for his own safety, lords!

Carpers abound in this misjudging world:

Moreover, there 's a nicety in law

That seems to justify them should they carp.

Suppose the source of injury a son,—

Father may slay such son yet run no risk:

Why graced with such a privilege? Because

A father so incensed with his own child,

Or must have reason, or believe he has;

Quia semper, seeing that in such event,

Presumitur, the law is bound suppose,

Quod capiat pater, that the sire must take,

Bonum consilium pro filio,

The best course as to what befits his boy,

Through instinct,ex instinctu, of mere love,

Amoris, and,paterni, fatherhood;

Quam confidentiam, which confidence,

Non habet, law declines to entertain,

De viro, of the husband: where finds he

An instinct that compels him love his wife?

Rather is he presumably her foe.

So, let him ponder long in this bad world

Ere do the simplest act of justice.

ButAgain—and here we brush Bottini's breast—Object you, "See the danger of delay,Suppose a man murdered my friend last month:Had I come up and killed him for his painsIn rage, I had done right, allows the law:I meet him now and kill him in cold blood,I do wrong, equally allows the law:Wherein do actions differ, yours and mine?"In plenitudine intellectus es?Hast thy wits, Fisc? To take such slayer's life,Returns it life to thy slain friend at all?Had he stolen ring instead of stabbing friend,—To-day, to-morrow, or next century,Meeting the thief, thy ring upon his thumb,Thou justifiably hadst wrung it thence:So, couldst thou wrench thy friend's life back again,Though prisoned in the bosom of his foe,Why, law would look complacent on thy wrath.Our case is, that the thing we lost, we found:The honor, we were robbed of eight months since,Being recoverable at any dayBy death of the delinquent. Go thy ways!Ere thou hast learned law, will be much to do,As said the gaby while he shod the goose.

But

Again—and here we brush Bottini's breast—

Object you, "See the danger of delay,

Suppose a man murdered my friend last month:

Had I come up and killed him for his pains

In rage, I had done right, allows the law:

I meet him now and kill him in cold blood,

I do wrong, equally allows the law:

Wherein do actions differ, yours and mine?"

In plenitudine intellectus es?

Hast thy wits, Fisc? To take such slayer's life,

Returns it life to thy slain friend at all?

Had he stolen ring instead of stabbing friend,—

To-day, to-morrow, or next century,

Meeting the thief, thy ring upon his thumb,

Thou justifiably hadst wrung it thence:

So, couldst thou wrench thy friend's life back again,

Though prisoned in the bosom of his foe,

Why, law would look complacent on thy wrath.

Our case is, that the thing we lost, we found:

The honor, we were robbed of eight months since,

Being recoverable at any day

By death of the delinquent. Go thy ways!

Ere thou hast learned law, will be much to do,

As said the gaby while he shod the goose.

Nay, if you urge me, interval was none!From the inn to the villa—blank or else a barOf adverse and contrarious incidentSolid between us and our just revenge!What with the priest who flourishes his blade,The wife who like a fury flings at us,The crowd—and then the capture, the appealTo Rome, the journey there, the jaunting thenceTo shelter at the House of Convertites,The visits to the Villa, and so forth,Where was one minute left us all this whileTo put in execution that revengeWe planned o' the instant?—as it were, plumped downO' the spot, some eight months since, which round sound egg,Rome, more propitious than our nest, should hatch!Object not, "You reached Rome on Christmas-eve,And, despite liberty to act at once,Waited a whole and indecorous week!"Hath so the Molinism, the canker, lords,Eaten to our bone? Is no religion left?No care for aught held holy by the Church?What, would you have us skip and miss those FeastsO' the Natal Time, must we go prosecuteSecular business on a sacred day?Should not the merest charity expect,Setting our poor concerns aside for once,We hurried to the song matutinalI' the Sistine, and pressed forward for the MassThe Cardinal that 's Camerlengo chants,Then rushed on to the blessing of the HatAnd Rapier, which the Pope sends to what princeHas done most detriment to the Infidel—And thereby whetted courage if 't were blunt?Meantime, allow we kept the house a week,Suppose not we were idle in our mew!Picture us raging here and raving there—"'Money?' I need none. 'Friends?' The word is null.Restore the white was on that shield of mineBorne at" ... wherever might be shield to bear."I see my grandsire, he who fought so wellAt" ... here find out and put in time and place,Or else invent the fight his grandsire fought:"I see this! I see that!"

Nay, if you urge me, interval was none!

From the inn to the villa—blank or else a bar

Of adverse and contrarious incident

Solid between us and our just revenge!

What with the priest who flourishes his blade,

The wife who like a fury flings at us,

The crowd—and then the capture, the appeal

To Rome, the journey there, the jaunting thence

To shelter at the House of Convertites,

The visits to the Villa, and so forth,

Where was one minute left us all this while

To put in execution that revenge

We planned o' the instant?—as it were, plumped down

O' the spot, some eight months since, which round sound egg,

Rome, more propitious than our nest, should hatch!

Object not, "You reached Rome on Christmas-eve,

And, despite liberty to act at once,

Waited a whole and indecorous week!"

Hath so the Molinism, the canker, lords,

Eaten to our bone? Is no religion left?

No care for aught held holy by the Church?

What, would you have us skip and miss those Feasts

O' the Natal Time, must we go prosecute

Secular business on a sacred day?

Should not the merest charity expect,

Setting our poor concerns aside for once,

We hurried to the song matutinal

I' the Sistine, and pressed forward for the Mass

The Cardinal that 's Camerlengo chants,

Then rushed on to the blessing of the Hat

And Rapier, which the Pope sends to what prince

Has done most detriment to the Infidel—

And thereby whetted courage if 't were blunt?

Meantime, allow we kept the house a week,

Suppose not we were idle in our mew!

Picture us raging here and raving there—

"'Money?' I need none. 'Friends?' The word is null.

Restore the white was on that shield of mine

Borne at" ... wherever might be shield to bear.

"I see my grandsire, he who fought so well

At" ... here find out and put in time and place,

Or else invent the fight his grandsire fought:

"I see this! I see that!"

(See nothing else,Or I shall scarce see lamb's fry in an hour!What to the uncle, as I bid advanceThe smoking dish? "Fry suits a tender tooth!Behooves we care a little for our kin—You, Sir,—who care so much for cousinshipAs come to your poor loving nephew's feast!"He has the reversion of a long lease yet—Land to bequeath! He loves lamb's fry, I know!)

(See nothing else,

Or I shall scarce see lamb's fry in an hour!

What to the uncle, as I bid advance

The smoking dish? "Fry suits a tender tooth!

Behooves we care a little for our kin—

You, Sir,—who care so much for cousinship

As come to your poor loving nephew's feast!"

He has the reversion of a long lease yet—

Land to bequeath! He loves lamb's fry, I know!)

Here fall to be considered those same sixQualities; what Bottini needs must callSo many aggravations of our crime,Parasite-growth upon mere murder's back.We summarily might dispose of suchBy some off-hand and jaunty fling, some skit—?"So, since there 's proved no crime to aggravate,A fico for your aggravations, Fisc!"No,—handle mischief rather,—play with spellsWere meant to raise a spirit, and laugh the whileWe show that did he rise we stand his match!Therefore, first aggravation: we made up—Over and above our simple murderous selves—A regular assemblage of armed men,Coadunatio armatorum,—ay,Unluckily it was the very judgeThat sits in judgment on our cause to-dayWho passed the law as Governor of Rome:"Four men armed"—though for lawful purpose, mark!Much more for an acknowledged crime—"shall die."We five were armed to the teeth, meant murder too?Why, that 's the very point that saves us, Fisc!Let me instruct you. Crime nor done nor meant,—You punish still who arm and congregate:For wherefore use bad means to a good end?Crime being meant not done,—you punish stillThe means to crime, whereon you haply pounce,Though accident have balked them of effect.But crime not only compassed but complete,Meant and done too? Why, since you have the end,Be that your sole concern, nor mind those meansNo longer to the purpose! Murdered we?(—Which, that our luck was in the present case,Quod contigisse in præsenti casu,Is palpable,manibus palpatum est—)Make murder out against us, nothing else!Of many crimes committed with a viewTo one main crime, Law overlooks the less,Intent upon the large. Suppose a manHaving in view commission of a theft,Climbs the town-wall: 't is for the theft he hangs,In case he stands convicted of such theft:Law remits whipping, due to who clomb wallThrough bravery or wantonness alone,Just to dislodge a daw's nest, plant a flag.So I interpret you the manly mindOf him about to judge both you and me,—Our Governor, who, being no Fisc, my Fisc,Cannot have blundered on ineptitude!Next aggravation,—that the arms themselvesWere specially of such forbidden sortThrough shape or length or breadth, as, prompt, Law plucksFrom single hand of solitary man,Making him pay the carriage with his life:Delatio armorum, arms against the rule,Contra formam constitutionis, ofPope Alexander's blessed memory.Such are the poniards with the double prong,Horn-like, when tines make bold the antlered buck,Each prong of brittle glass—wherewith to stabAnd break off short and so let fragment stickFast in the flesh to baffle surgery:Such being the Genoese blade with hooked edgeThat did us service at the villa here.Sed parcat mihi tam eximius vir,But,—let so rare a personage forgive,—Fisc, thy objection is a foppery!Thy charge runs that we killed three innocents:Killed, dost see? Then, if killed, what matter how?—By stick or stone, by sword or dagger, toolLong or tool short, round or triangular—Poor slain folk find small comfort in the choice!Means to an end, means to an end, my Fisc!Nature cries out, "Take the first arms you find!"Furor ministrat arma:where 's a stone?Unde mî lapidem, where darts for me?Unde sagittas?But subdue the bardAnd rationalize a little. Eight months since,Had we, or had we not, incurred your blameFor letting 'scape unpunished this bad pair?I think I proved that in last paragraph!Why did we so? Because our courage failed.Wherefore? Through lack of arms to fight the foe:We had no arms or merely lawful ones,An unimportant sword and blunderbuss,Against a foe, pollent in potency,Theamasius, and our vixen of a wife.Well then, how culpably do we gird loinAnd once more undertake the high emprise,Unless we load ourselves this second timeWith handsome superfluity of arms,Since better is "too much" than "not enough,"And "plus non vitiat," too much does no harm,Except in mathematics, sages say.Gather instruction from the parable!At first we are advised—"A lad hath hereSeven barley loaves and two small fishes: whatIs that among so many?" Aptly asked:But put that question twice and, quite as apt,The answer is, "Fragments, twelve baskets full!"

Here fall to be considered those same six

Qualities; what Bottini needs must call

So many aggravations of our crime,

Parasite-growth upon mere murder's back.

We summarily might dispose of such

By some off-hand and jaunty fling, some skit—?

"So, since there 's proved no crime to aggravate,

A fico for your aggravations, Fisc!"

No,—handle mischief rather,—play with spells

Were meant to raise a spirit, and laugh the while

We show that did he rise we stand his match!

Therefore, first aggravation: we made up—

Over and above our simple murderous selves—

A regular assemblage of armed men,

Coadunatio armatorum,—ay,

Unluckily it was the very judge

That sits in judgment on our cause to-day

Who passed the law as Governor of Rome:

"Four men armed"—though for lawful purpose, mark!

Much more for an acknowledged crime—"shall die."

We five were armed to the teeth, meant murder too?

Why, that 's the very point that saves us, Fisc!

Let me instruct you. Crime nor done nor meant,—

You punish still who arm and congregate:

For wherefore use bad means to a good end?

Crime being meant not done,—you punish still

The means to crime, whereon you haply pounce,

Though accident have balked them of effect.

But crime not only compassed but complete,

Meant and done too? Why, since you have the end,

Be that your sole concern, nor mind those means

No longer to the purpose! Murdered we?

(—Which, that our luck was in the present case,

Quod contigisse in præsenti casu,

Is palpable,manibus palpatum est—)

Make murder out against us, nothing else!

Of many crimes committed with a view

To one main crime, Law overlooks the less,

Intent upon the large. Suppose a man

Having in view commission of a theft,

Climbs the town-wall: 't is for the theft he hangs,

In case he stands convicted of such theft:

Law remits whipping, due to who clomb wall

Through bravery or wantonness alone,

Just to dislodge a daw's nest, plant a flag.

So I interpret you the manly mind

Of him about to judge both you and me,—

Our Governor, who, being no Fisc, my Fisc,

Cannot have blundered on ineptitude!

Next aggravation,—that the arms themselves

Were specially of such forbidden sort

Through shape or length or breadth, as, prompt, Law plucks

From single hand of solitary man,

Making him pay the carriage with his life:

Delatio armorum, arms against the rule,

Contra formam constitutionis, of

Pope Alexander's blessed memory.

Such are the poniards with the double prong,

Horn-like, when tines make bold the antlered buck,

Each prong of brittle glass—wherewith to stab

And break off short and so let fragment stick

Fast in the flesh to baffle surgery:

Such being the Genoese blade with hooked edge

That did us service at the villa here.

Sed parcat mihi tam eximius vir,

But,—let so rare a personage forgive,—

Fisc, thy objection is a foppery!

Thy charge runs that we killed three innocents:

Killed, dost see? Then, if killed, what matter how?—

By stick or stone, by sword or dagger, tool

Long or tool short, round or triangular—

Poor slain folk find small comfort in the choice!

Means to an end, means to an end, my Fisc!

Nature cries out, "Take the first arms you find!"

Furor ministrat arma:where 's a stone?

Unde mî lapidem, where darts for me?

Unde sagittas?But subdue the bard

And rationalize a little. Eight months since,

Had we, or had we not, incurred your blame

For letting 'scape unpunished this bad pair?

I think I proved that in last paragraph!

Why did we so? Because our courage failed.

Wherefore? Through lack of arms to fight the foe:

We had no arms or merely lawful ones,

An unimportant sword and blunderbuss,

Against a foe, pollent in potency,

Theamasius, and our vixen of a wife.

Well then, how culpably do we gird loin

And once more undertake the high emprise,

Unless we load ourselves this second time

With handsome superfluity of arms,

Since better is "too much" than "not enough,"

And "plus non vitiat," too much does no harm,

Except in mathematics, sages say.

Gather instruction from the parable!

At first we are advised—"A lad hath here

Seven barley loaves and two small fishes: what

Is that among so many?" Aptly asked:

But put that question twice and, quite as apt,

The answer is, "Fragments, twelve baskets full!"

And, while we speak of superabundance, flingWe word by the way to fools who cast their floutOn Guido—"Punishment were pardoned him,But here the punishment exceeds offence:He might be just, but he was cruel too!"Why, grant there seems a kind of crueltyIn downright stabbing people he could maim,(If so you stigmatize the stern and strict)Still, Guido meant no cruelty—may pleadTransgression of his mandate, over-zealO' the part of his companions: all he cravedWas, they should fray the faces of the folk,Merely disfigure, nowise make them die.Solummodo fassus est, he owns no more,Dedisse mandatum, than that he desired,Ad sfrisiandum, dicam, that they hackAnd hew, i' the customary phrase, his wife,Uxorem tantum, and no harm beside.If his instructions then be misconceived,Nay, disobeyed, impute you blame to him?Cite me no Panicollus to the point,As adverse! Oh, I quite expect his case—How certain noble youths of SicilyHaving good reason to mistrust their wives,Killed them and were absolved in consequence:While others who had gone beyond the needBy mutilation of each paramour—As Galba in the Horatian satire grieved—These were condemned to the galleys, cast for guiltExceeding simple murder of a wife.But why? Because of ugliness, and notCruelty, in the said revenge, I trow!Ex causa abscissionis partium;Qui nempe id facientes reputanturNaturæ inimici, man revoltsAgainst them as the natural enemy.Pray, grant to one who meant to slit the noseAnd slash the cheek and slur the mouth, at most,A somewhat more humane award than theseObtained, these natural enemies of man!Objectum funditus corruit, flat you fall,My Fisc! I waste no kick on you, but pass.Third aggravation: that our act was done—Not in the public street, where safety lies,Not in the by-place, caution may avoid,Wood, cavern, desert, spots contrived for crime,—But in the very house, home, nook and nest,O' the victims, murdered in their dwelling-place,In domo ac habitatione propria,Where all presumably is peace and joy.The spider, crime, pronounce we twice a pestWhen, creeping from congenial cottage, sheTaketh hold with her hands, to horrifyHis household more, i' the palace of the king.All three were housed and safe and confident.Moreover, the permission that our wifeShould have at lengthdomum pro carcere,Her own abode in place of prison—why,We ourselves granted, by our other selfAnd proxy Paolo: did we make such grant,Meaning a lure?—elude the vigilanceO' the jailer, lead her to commodious death,While we ostensibly relented?

And, while we speak of superabundance, fling

We word by the way to fools who cast their flout

On Guido—"Punishment were pardoned him,

But here the punishment exceeds offence:

He might be just, but he was cruel too!"

Why, grant there seems a kind of cruelty

In downright stabbing people he could maim,

(If so you stigmatize the stern and strict)

Still, Guido meant no cruelty—may plead

Transgression of his mandate, over-zeal

O' the part of his companions: all he craved

Was, they should fray the faces of the folk,

Merely disfigure, nowise make them die.

Solummodo fassus est, he owns no more,

Dedisse mandatum, than that he desired,

Ad sfrisiandum, dicam, that they hack

And hew, i' the customary phrase, his wife,

Uxorem tantum, and no harm beside.

If his instructions then be misconceived,

Nay, disobeyed, impute you blame to him?

Cite me no Panicollus to the point,

As adverse! Oh, I quite expect his case—

How certain noble youths of Sicily

Having good reason to mistrust their wives,

Killed them and were absolved in consequence:

While others who had gone beyond the need

By mutilation of each paramour—

As Galba in the Horatian satire grieved

—These were condemned to the galleys, cast for guilt

Exceeding simple murder of a wife.

But why? Because of ugliness, and not

Cruelty, in the said revenge, I trow!

Ex causa abscissionis partium;

Qui nempe id facientes reputantur

Naturæ inimici, man revolts

Against them as the natural enemy.

Pray, grant to one who meant to slit the nose

And slash the cheek and slur the mouth, at most,

A somewhat more humane award than these

Obtained, these natural enemies of man!

Objectum funditus corruit, flat you fall,

My Fisc! I waste no kick on you, but pass.

Third aggravation: that our act was done—

Not in the public street, where safety lies,

Not in the by-place, caution may avoid,

Wood, cavern, desert, spots contrived for crime,—

But in the very house, home, nook and nest,

O' the victims, murdered in their dwelling-place,

In domo ac habitatione propria,

Where all presumably is peace and joy.

The spider, crime, pronounce we twice a pest

When, creeping from congenial cottage, she

Taketh hold with her hands, to horrify

His household more, i' the palace of the king.

All three were housed and safe and confident.

Moreover, the permission that our wife

Should have at lengthdomum pro carcere,

Her own abode in place of prison—why,

We ourselves granted, by our other self

And proxy Paolo: did we make such grant,

Meaning a lure?—elude the vigilance

O' the jailer, lead her to commodious death,

While we ostensibly relented?

Ay,Just so did we, nor otherwise, my Fisc!Is vengeance lawful? We demand our right,But find it will be questioned or refusedBy jailer, turnkey, hangdog,—what know we?Pray, how is it we should conduct ourselves?To gain our private right—break public peace,Do you bid us?—trouble order with our broils?Endanger ... shall I shrink to own ... ourselves?—Who want no broken head nor bloody nose(While busied slitting noses, breaking heads)From the first tipstaff that may interfere!Nam quicquid sit, for howsoever it be,An de consensu nostro, if with leaveOr not,a monasterio, from the nuns,Educta esset, she had been led forth,Potuimus id dissimulare, weMay well have granted leave in pure pretence,Ut aditum habere, that therebyAn entry we might compass, a free movePotuissemus, to her easy death,Ad eam occidendam. PrivacyO' the hearth, and sanctitude of home, say you?Shall we give man's abode more privilegeThan God's?—for in the churches where he dwells,In quibus assistit Regum Rex, by meansOf his essence,per essentiam, all the same,Et nihilominus, therein,in eis,Ex justa via delinquens, whoso daresTo take a liberty on ground enough,Is pardoned,excusatur:that 's our case—Delinquent through befitting cause. You hold,To punish a false wife in her own houseIs graver than, what happens every day,To hale a debtor from his hiding-placeIn church protected by the Sacrament?To this conclusion have I brought my Fisc?Foxes have holes, and fowls o' the air their nests;Praise you the impiety that follows, Fisc?Shall false wife yet have where to lay her head?"Contra Fiscum definitum est!" He's done!"Surge et scribe," make a note of it!—If I may dally with Aquinas' word.Or in the death-throe does he mutter still,Fourth aggravation, that we changed our garb,And rusticized ourselves with uncouth hat,Rough vest and goatskin wrappage; murdered thusMutatione vestium, in disguise,Whereby mere murder got complexed with wile,Turnedhomicidium ex insidiis?Fisc,How often must I round thee in the ears—All means are lawful to a lawful end?Concede he had the right to kill his wife:The Count indulged in a travesty; why?De ilia ut vindictam sumeret,That on her he might lawful vengeance take,Commodius, with more ease,et tutius,And safelier: wants he warrant for the step?Read to thy profit how the Apostle onceFor ease and safety, when Damascus raged,Was let down in a basket by the wall,To 'scape the malice of the governor(Another sort of Governor boasts Rome!)—Many are of opinion,—covered close,Concealed with—what except that very cloakHe left behind at Troas afterward?I shall not add a syllable: Molinists may!Well, have we more to manage? Ay, indeed!Fifth aggravation, that our wife reposedSub potestate judicis, beneathProtection of the judge,—her house was styledA prison, and his power became its guardIn lieu of wall and gate and bolt and bar.This is a tough point, shrewd, redoubtable:Because we have to supplicate that judgeShall overlook wrong done the judgment-seat.Now, I might suffer my own nose be pulled,As man: but then as father ... if the FiscTouched one hair of my boy who held my handIn confidence he could not come to harmCrossing the Corso, at my own desire,Going to see those bodies in the church—What would you say to that, Don Hyacinth?This is the sole and single knotty point:For, bid Tommati blink his interest,You laud his magnanimity the while:But balk Tommati's office,—he talks big!"My predecessors in the place,—those sonsO' the prophets that may hope succeed me here,—Shall I diminish their prerogative?Count Guido Franceschini's honor!—well,Has the Governor of Rome none?"

Ay,

Just so did we, nor otherwise, my Fisc!

Is vengeance lawful? We demand our right,

But find it will be questioned or refused

By jailer, turnkey, hangdog,—what know we?

Pray, how is it we should conduct ourselves?

To gain our private right—break public peace,

Do you bid us?—trouble order with our broils?

Endanger ... shall I shrink to own ... ourselves?—

Who want no broken head nor bloody nose

(While busied slitting noses, breaking heads)

From the first tipstaff that may interfere!

Nam quicquid sit, for howsoever it be,

An de consensu nostro, if with leave

Or not,a monasterio, from the nuns,

Educta esset, she had been led forth,

Potuimus id dissimulare, we

May well have granted leave in pure pretence,

Ut aditum habere, that thereby

An entry we might compass, a free move

Potuissemus, to her easy death,

Ad eam occidendam. Privacy

O' the hearth, and sanctitude of home, say you?

Shall we give man's abode more privilege

Than God's?—for in the churches where he dwells,

In quibus assistit Regum Rex, by means

Of his essence,per essentiam, all the same,

Et nihilominus, therein,in eis,

Ex justa via delinquens, whoso dares

To take a liberty on ground enough,

Is pardoned,excusatur:that 's our case—

Delinquent through befitting cause. You hold,

To punish a false wife in her own house

Is graver than, what happens every day,

To hale a debtor from his hiding-place

In church protected by the Sacrament?

To this conclusion have I brought my Fisc?

Foxes have holes, and fowls o' the air their nests;

Praise you the impiety that follows, Fisc?

Shall false wife yet have where to lay her head?

"Contra Fiscum definitum est!" He's done!

"Surge et scribe," make a note of it!

—If I may dally with Aquinas' word.

Or in the death-throe does he mutter still,

Fourth aggravation, that we changed our garb,

And rusticized ourselves with uncouth hat,

Rough vest and goatskin wrappage; murdered thus

Mutatione vestium, in disguise,

Whereby mere murder got complexed with wile,

Turnedhomicidium ex insidiis?Fisc,

How often must I round thee in the ears—

All means are lawful to a lawful end?

Concede he had the right to kill his wife:

The Count indulged in a travesty; why?

De ilia ut vindictam sumeret,

That on her he might lawful vengeance take,

Commodius, with more ease,et tutius,

And safelier: wants he warrant for the step?

Read to thy profit how the Apostle once

For ease and safety, when Damascus raged,

Was let down in a basket by the wall,

To 'scape the malice of the governor

(Another sort of Governor boasts Rome!)

—Many are of opinion,—covered close,

Concealed with—what except that very cloak

He left behind at Troas afterward?

I shall not add a syllable: Molinists may!

Well, have we more to manage? Ay, indeed!

Fifth aggravation, that our wife reposed

Sub potestate judicis, beneath

Protection of the judge,—her house was styled

A prison, and his power became its guard

In lieu of wall and gate and bolt and bar.

This is a tough point, shrewd, redoubtable:

Because we have to supplicate that judge

Shall overlook wrong done the judgment-seat.

Now, I might suffer my own nose be pulled,

As man: but then as father ... if the Fisc

Touched one hair of my boy who held my hand

In confidence he could not come to harm

Crossing the Corso, at my own desire,

Going to see those bodies in the church—

What would you say to that, Don Hyacinth?

This is the sole and single knotty point:

For, bid Tommati blink his interest,

You laud his magnanimity the while:

But balk Tommati's office,—he talks big!

"My predecessors in the place,—those sons

O' the prophets that may hope succeed me here,—

Shall I diminish their prerogative?

Count Guido Franceschini's honor!—well,

Has the Governor of Rome none?"

You perceive,The cards are all against us. Make a push,Kick over table, as shrewd gamesters do!We, do you say, encroach upon the rights,Deny the omnipotence o' the Judge forsooth?We, who have only been from first to lastIntending that his purpose should prevail,Nay more, at times, anticipating itAt risk of his rebuke?

You perceive,

The cards are all against us. Make a push,

Kick over table, as shrewd gamesters do!

We, do you say, encroach upon the rights,

Deny the omnipotence o' the Judge forsooth?

We, who have only been from first to last

Intending that his purpose should prevail,

Nay more, at times, anticipating it

At risk of his rebuke?

But wait awhile!Cannot we lump this with the sixth and lastOf the aggravations—that the MajestyO' the Sovereign here received a wound? to wit,Læsa Majestas, since our violenceWas out of envy to the course of law,In odium litis?We out short therebyThree pending suits, promoted by ourselvesI' the main,—which worsens crime,accedit adExasperationem criminis!

But wait awhile!

Cannot we lump this with the sixth and last

Of the aggravations—that the Majesty

O' the Sovereign here received a wound? to wit,

Læsa Majestas, since our violence

Was out of envy to the course of law,

In odium litis?We out short thereby

Three pending suits, promoted by ourselves

I' the main,—which worsens crime,accedit ad

Exasperationem criminis!

Yes, here the eruptive wrath with full effect!How, did not indignation chain my tongue,Could I repel this last, worst charge of all!(There is a porcupine to barbecue;Gigia can jug a rabbit well enough,With sour-sweet sauce and pine-pips; but, good Lord,Suppose the devil instigate the wenchTo stew, not roast him? Stew my porcupine?If she does, I know where his quills shall stick!Come, I must go myself and see to things:I cannot stay much longer stewing here.)Our stomach ... I mean, our soul is stirred within,And we want words. We wounded Majesty?Fall under such a censure, we?—who yearnedSo much that Majesty dispel the cloudAnd shine on us with healing on her wings,That we prayed PopeMajestas'very selfTo anticipate a little the tardy pack,Bell us forth deep the authoritative bayShould start the beagles into sudden yelpUnisonous,—and, Gospel leading Law,Grant there assemble in our own behoofA Congregation, a particular Court,A few picked friends of quality and place,To hear the several matters in dispute,Causes big, little, and indifferent,Bred of our marriage like a mushroom-growth,All at once (can one brush off such too soon?)And so with laudable dispatch decideWhether we, in the main (to sink detail)Were one the Pope should hold fast or let go."What, take the credit from the Law?" you ask?Indeed, we did! Law ducks to Gospel here:Why should Law gain the glory and pronounceA judgment shall immortalize the Pope?Yes: our self-abnegating policyWas Joab's—we would rouse our David's sloth,Bid him encamp against a city, sackA place whereto ourselves had long laid seige,Lest, taking it at last, it take our nameNor be styledInnocentinopolis.But no! The modesty was in alarm,The temperance refused to interfere,Returned us our petition with the word"Ad judices suos," "Leave him to his Judge!"As who should say, "Why trouble my repose?Why consult Peter in a simple case,Peter's wife's sister in her fever-fitMight solve as readily as the Apostle's self?Are my Tribunals posed by aught so plain?Hath not my Court a conscience? It is of age,Ask it!"

Yes, here the eruptive wrath with full effect!

How, did not indignation chain my tongue,

Could I repel this last, worst charge of all!

(There is a porcupine to barbecue;

Gigia can jug a rabbit well enough,

With sour-sweet sauce and pine-pips; but, good Lord,

Suppose the devil instigate the wench

To stew, not roast him? Stew my porcupine?

If she does, I know where his quills shall stick!

Come, I must go myself and see to things:

I cannot stay much longer stewing here.)

Our stomach ... I mean, our soul is stirred within,

And we want words. We wounded Majesty?

Fall under such a censure, we?—who yearned

So much that Majesty dispel the cloud

And shine on us with healing on her wings,

That we prayed PopeMajestas'very self

To anticipate a little the tardy pack,

Bell us forth deep the authoritative bay

Should start the beagles into sudden yelp

Unisonous,—and, Gospel leading Law,

Grant there assemble in our own behoof

A Congregation, a particular Court,

A few picked friends of quality and place,

To hear the several matters in dispute,

Causes big, little, and indifferent,

Bred of our marriage like a mushroom-growth,

All at once (can one brush off such too soon?)

And so with laudable dispatch decide

Whether we, in the main (to sink detail)

Were one the Pope should hold fast or let go.

"What, take the credit from the Law?" you ask?

Indeed, we did! Law ducks to Gospel here:

Why should Law gain the glory and pronounce

A judgment shall immortalize the Pope?

Yes: our self-abnegating policy

Was Joab's—we would rouse our David's sloth,

Bid him encamp against a city, sack

A place whereto ourselves had long laid seige,

Lest, taking it at last, it take our name

Nor be styledInnocentinopolis.

But no! The modesty was in alarm,

The temperance refused to interfere,

Returned us our petition with the word

"Ad judices suos," "Leave him to his Judge!"

As who should say, "Why trouble my repose?

Why consult Peter in a simple case,

Peter's wife's sister in her fever-fit

Might solve as readily as the Apostle's self?

Are my Tribunals posed by aught so plain?

Hath not my Court a conscience? It is of age,

Ask it!"

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