She, they say further, first tried every chink,
Every imaginable break i’ the fire,
As way of escape: ran to the Commissary,
Who bade her not malign his friend her spouse; (800)
Flung herself thrice at the Archbishop’s feet,
Where three times the Archbishop let her lie,
Spend her whole sorrow and sob full heart forth,
And then took up the slight load from the ground
And bore it back for husband to chastise,—
Mildly of course,—but natural right is right.
So went she slipping ever yet catching at help,
Missing the high till come to lowest and last,
No more than a certain friar of mean degree,
Who heard her story in confession, wept, (810)
Crossed himself, showed the man within the monk.
“Then, will you save me, you the one i’ the world?
“I cannot even write my woes, nor put
“My prayer for help in words a friend may read,—
“I no more own a coin than have an hour
“Free of observance,—I was watched to church,
“Am watched now, shall be watched back presently,—
“How buy the skill of scribe i’ the market- place?
“Pray you, write down and send whatever I say
“O’ the need I have my parents take me hence!” (820)
The good man rubbed his eyes and could not choose—
Let her dictate her letter in such a sense
That parents, to save breaking down a wall,
Might lift her over: she went back, heaven in her heart.
Then the good man took counsel of his couch,
Woke and thought twice, the second thought the best:
“Here am I, foolish body that I be,
“Caught all but pushing, teaching, who but I,
“My betters their plain duty,—what, I dare
“Help a case the Archbishop would not help, (830)
“Mend matters, peradventure, God loves mar?
“What hath the married life but strifes and plagues
“For proper dispensation? So a fool
“Once touched the ark,—poor Hophni that I am!
“Oh married ones, much rather should I bid,
“In patience all of ye possess your souls!
“This life is brief and troubles die with it:
“Where were the prick to soar up homeward else?”
So saying, he burnt the letter he had writ,
Said Ave for her intention, in its place, (840)
Took snuff and comfort, and had done with all.
Then the grim arms stretched yet a little more
And each touched each, all but one streak i’ the midst,
Whereat stood Caponsacchi, who cried, “This way,
“Out by me! Hesitate one moment more
“And the fire shuts out me and shuts in you!
“Here my hand holds you life out!” Whereupon
She clasped the hand, which closed on hers and drew
Pompilia out o’ the circle now complete.
Whose fault or shame but Guido’s?—ask her friends. (850)
Eve’s … no, not Eve’s, since Eve, to speak the truth,
Was hardly fallen (our candour might pronounce)
So much of paradisal nature, Eve’s,
When simply saying in her own defence
“The serpent tempted me and I did eat.”
Her daughters ever since prefer to urge
“Adam so starved me I was fain accept
“The apple any serpent pushed my way.”
What an elaborate theory have we here, (860)
Ingeniously nursed up, pretentiously
Brought forth, pushed forward amid trumpet-blast,
To account for the thawing of an icicle,
Show us there needed Ætna vomit flame
Ere run the chrystal into dew-drops! Else,
How, unless hell broke loose to cause the step,
How could a married lady go astray?
Bless the fools! And ’tis just this way they are blessed,
And the world wags still,—because fools are sure
—Oh, not of my wife nor your daughter! No! (870)
But of their own: the case is altered quite.
Look now,—last week, the lady we all love,—
Daughter o’ the couple we all venerate,
Wife of the husband we all cap before,
Mother o’ the babes we all breathe blessings on,—
Was caught in converse with a negro page.
Hell thawed that icicle, else “Why was it—
“Why?” asked and echoed the fools. “Because, you fools,—”
So did the dame’s self answer, she who could,
With that fine candour only forthcoming (880)
When ’tis no odds whether withheld or no—
“Because my husband was the saint you say,
“And,—with that childish goodness, absurd faith,
“Stupid self-satisfaction, you so praise,—
“Saint to you, insupportable to me.
“Had he,—instead of calling me fine names,
“Lucretia and Susanna and so forth,
“And curtaining Correggio carefully
“Lest I be taught that Leda had two legs,—
“—But once never so little tweaked my nose (890)
“For peeping through my fan at Carnival,
“Confessing thereby ‘I have no easy task—
“‘I need use all my powers to hold you mine,
“‘And then,—why ’tis so doubtful if they serve,
“‘That—take this, as an earnest of despair!’
“Why, we were quits—I had wiped the harm away,
“Thought ‘The man fears me!’ and foregone revenge.”
We must not want all this elaborate work
To solve the problem why young fancy-and-flesh
Slips from the dull side of a spouse in years, (900)
Betakes it to the breast of brisk-and-bold
Whose love-scrapes furnish talk for all the town!
Tips over the piled-up fabric of a tale.
Guido says—that is, always, his friends say—
It is unlikely from the wickedness,
That any man treat any woman so.
The letter in question was her very own,
Unprompted and unaided: she could write—
As able to write as ready to sin, or free, (910)
When there was danger, to deny both facts.
He bids you mark, herself from first to last
Attributes
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