All had gone well! Unluckily fate must needs
It proved to be the impossible thing itself;
The truth and not the sham: hence ruin to them all.
Of an old family in Arezzo, old
To that degree they could afford be poor
Better than most: the case is common too.
Out of the vast door ’scutcheoned overhead,
Creeps out a serving-man on Saturdays (360)
To cater for the week,—turns up anon
I’ the market, chaffering for the lamb’s least leg,
Or the quarter-fowl, less entrails, claws and comb:
Then back again with prize,—a liver begged
Into the bargain, gizzard overlooked,—
He’s mincing these to give the beans a taste,
When, at your knock, he leaves the simmering soup,
Waits on the curious stranger-visitant,
Napkin in half-wiped hand, to show the rooms,
Point pictures out have hung their hundred years, (370)
“Priceless,” he tells you,—puts in his place at once
The man of money: yes, you’re banker-king
Or merchant-kaiser, wallow in your wealth
While patron, the house-master, can’t afford
To stop our ceiling-hole that rain so rots—
But he’s the man of mark, and there’s his shield,
And yonder’s the famed Rafael, first in kind,
The painter painted for his grandfather—
You have paid a paul to see: “Good-morning, Sir!”
Such is the law of compensation. Here (380)
The poverty was getting too acute;
There gaped so many noble mouths to feed,
Beans must suffice unflavoured of the fowl.
The mother,—hers would be a spun-out life
I’ the nature of things; the sisters had done well
And married men of reasonable rank:
But that sort of illumination stops,
Throws back no heat upon the parent-hearth.
The family instinct felt out for its fire
To the Church,—the Church traditionally helps (390)
A second son: and such was Paolo,
Established here at Rome these thirty years,
Who played the regular game,—priest and Abate,
Made friends, owned house and land, became of use
To a personage: his course lay clear enough.
The youngest caught the sympathetic flame,
And, though unfledged wings kept him still i’ the cage,
Yet he shot up to be a Canon, so
Clung to the higher perch and crowed in hope.
Even our Guido, eldest brother, went (400)
As far i’ the way o’ the Church as safety seemed,
He being Head o’ the House, ordained to wive,—
So, could but dally with an Order or two
And testify good-will i’ the cause: he clipt
His top-hair and thus far affected Christ,
But main promotion must fall otherwise,
Though still from the side o’ the Church: and here was he
At Rome, since first youth, worn threadbare of soul
By forty-six years’ rubbing on hard life,
Getting fast tired o’ the game whose word is—“Wait!”
When one day,—he too having his Cardinal (411)
To serve in some ambiguous sort, as serve
To draw the coach the plumes o’ the horses’ heads,—
The Cardinal saw fit to dispense with him,
Ride with one plume the less; and off it dropped.
And not a penny in purse to show for it,
Advised with Paolo, bent no doubt in chafe
The black brows somewhat formidably the while.
“Where is the good I came to get at Rome? (420)
“Where the repayment of the servitude
“To a purple popinjay, whose feet I kiss,
“Knowing his father wiped the shoes of mine?”
“You have not had, so far, the proper luck,
“Nor do my gains suffice to keep us both:
“A modest competency is mine, not more.
“You are the Count however, yours the style,
“Heirdom and state,—you can’t expect all good.
“Had I, now, held your hand of cards … well, well—
“What’s yet unplayed, I’ll look at, by your leave, (431)
“Over your shoulder,—I who made my game,
“Let’s see, if I can’t help to handle yours.
“Fie on you, all the Honours in your fist,
“Countship, Househeadship,—how have you misdealt!
“Why, in the first place, they will marry a man!
“Notum tonsoribus! To the Tonsor then!
“Come, clear your looks, and choose your freshest suit,
“And, after function’s done with, down we go
“To the woman- dealer in perukes, a wench (440)
“I and some others settled in the shop
“At Place Colonna: she’s an oracle. Hmm!
“ ‘Dear, ’tis my brother: brother, ’tis my dear.
“ ‘Dear, give us counsel! Whom do you suggest
“ ‘As properest party in the quarter round,
“ ‘For the Count here?—he is minded to take wife,
“ ‘And further tells me he intends to slip
“ ‘Twenty zecchines under the bottom-scalp
“ ‘Of his old wig when he sends it to revive
“ ‘For the wedding: and I add a trifle too. (450)
“ ‘You know what personage I’m potent with.’ ”
And so plumped out Pompilia’s name the first.
She told them of the household and its ways,
The easy husband and the shrewder wife
In Via Vittoria,—how the tall young girl,
With hair black as yon patch and eyes as big
As yon pomander to make freckles fly,
Would have so much for certain, and so much more
In likelihood,—why, it suited, slipt as smooth
As the Pope’s pantoufle does on the Pope’s foot. (460)
“I’ll to the husband!” Guido ups and cries.
“Ay, so you’d play your last court-card, no doubt!”
Puts Paolo in with a groan—“Only, you see,
“ ’Tis I, this time, that supervise your lead.
“Priests play with women, maids,
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