Leviathan into the nose whereof

I have put fish-hook, pierced his jaw with thorn,

And given him to my maidens for a play!
I' the rough: to-morrow I review my piece
Tame here and there undue floridity.

It's hard you have to plead before these priests

And poke at them with Scripture, or you pass
For heathen and, what 's worse, for ignorant
O' the quality o' the Court and what it likes
By way of illustration of the law.

To-morrow stick in this, and throw out that,
And, having first ecclesiasticized,
Regularize the whole, next emphasize,
Then latinize, and lastly Cicero-ize,
Giving my Fise his finish.

speech!

There's my

And where 's my fry, and family and friends?
Where 's that huge Hyacinth I mean to hug
Till he cries out, Jam satis! Let me

breathe!"

Now, what an evening have I earned to-day!
Hail, ye true pleasures, all the rest are false !
Oh, the old mother, oh, the fattish wife!
Rogue Hyacinth shall put on paper toque,
And wrap himself around with mamma's veil
Done up to imitate papa's black robe,
(I'm in the secret of the comedy,
Part of the program leaked out long ago!)
And call himself the Advocate o' the Poor,
Mimic Don father that defends the Count:
And for reward shall have a small full glass
Of manly red rosolio to himself,

-Always provided that he conjugate
Bibo, I drink, correctly nor be found
Make the perfectum, bipsi, as last year!
How the ambitious do so harden heart
As lightly hold by these home-sanctitudes,
To me is matter of bewilderment --
Bewilderment! Because ambition's range
Is nowise tethered by domestic tie:
Am I refused an outlet from my home

To the world's stage? - whereon a man should play

The man in public, vigilant for law,
Zealous for truth, a credit to his kind,
Nay, since, employing talent so, I yield
The Lord his own again with usury,
A satisfaction, yea, to God himself!
Well, I have modelled me by Agur's wish,
"Remove far from me vanity and lies,
Feed me with food convenient for me!" What
I' the world should a wise man require beyond ?
Can I but coax the good fat little wife
To tell her fool of a father the mad prank
His scapegrace nephew played this time last

JURIS DOCTOR JOHANNES - BAPTISTA
BOTTINIUS,

FISCI ET REV. CAM. APOSTOL. ADVOCATUS
Had I God's leave, how I would alter things!
If I might read instead of print my speech,
Ay, and enliven speech with many a flower
Refuses obstinate to blow in print,

As wildings planted in a prim parterre,-
This scurvy room were turned an immense hall;
Opposite, fifty judges in a row;

This side and that of me, for audience - Rome:
And, where yon window is, the Pope should

hide

Have ye seen, Judges, have ye, lights of law, -
When it may hap some painter, much in vogue
Throughout our city nutritive of arts,
Ye summon to a task shall test his worth,
To manufacture, as he knows and can,
A work may decorate a palace-wall,
Affords my lords their Holy Family,
Hath it escaped the acumen of the Court
How such a painter sets himself to paint?
Suppose that Joseph, Mary and her Babe
A-journeying to Egypt, prove the piece:
Why, first he sedulously practiseth,

This painter,-girding loin and lighting lamp,-
On what may nourish eye, make facile hand;
Getteth him studies (styled by draughtsmen so)
From some assistant corpse of Jew or Turk
Or, haply, Molinist, he cuts and carves,-
This Luca or this Carlo or the like.
To him the bones their inmost secret yield,
Each notch and nodule signify their use:
On him the muscles turn, in triple tier,
And pleasantly entreat the entrusted man
"Familiarize thee with our play that lifts
Thus, and thus lowers again, leg, arm and
foot!"

Ensuring due correctness in the nude.

Which done, is all done? Not a whit, ye know!
He,
to art's surface rising from her depth,-
If some flax-polled soft-bearded sire be found,
May simulate a Joseph, (happy chance !)
Limneth exact each wrinkle of the brow,
Loseth no involution, cheek or chap,
Till lo, in black and white, the senior lives!
Is it a young and comely peasant-nurse
That poseth? (be the phrase accorded me !)
Each feminine delight of florid lip,

Eyes brimming o'er and brow bowed down with love,

Marmoreal neck and bosom uberous, —
Glad on the paper in a trice they go
To help his notion of the Mother-maid:
Methinks I see it, chalk a little stumped!
Yea and her babe - that flexure of soft limbs,
That budding face imbued with dewy sleep,
Contribute each an excellence to Christ.
Nay, since he humbly lent companionship,
Even the poor ass, unpanniered and elate
Stands, perks an ear up, he a model too;
While clouted shoon, staff, scrip and water-
gourd,

Aught may betoken travel, heat and haste,
No jot nor tittle of these but in its turn
Ministers to perfection of the piece :

Till now, such piece before him, part by part,

Such prelude ended, -pause our painter may, Submit his fifty studies one by one,

And in some sort boast "I have served my lords."

Rather your artist turns abrupt from these,
And preferably buries him and broods
(Quite away from aught vulgar and extern)
On the inner spectrum, filtered through the eye,
His brain-deposit, bred of many a drop,
E pluribus unum: and the wiser he!
For in that brain, — their fancy sees at work,
Could my lords peep indulged, results alone,
Not processes which nourish such results,
Would they discover and appreciate, — life
Fed by digestion, not raw food itself,
No gobbets but smooth comfortable chyme
Secreted from each snapped-up crudity, -
Less distinct, part by part, but in the whole

spy,

Not those mere fragmentary studied facts Which answer to the outward frame and flesh

Not this nose, not that eyebrow, the other fact
Of man's staff, woman's stole or infant's clout,
But lo, a spirit-birth conceived of flesh,
Truth rare and real, not transcripts, fact and
false.

The studies for his pupils and himself!
The picture be for our eximious Rome
And who knows? satisfy its Governor,
Whose new wing to the villa he hath bought
(God give him joy of it) by Capena, soon
('T is bruited) shall be glowing with the brush
Of who hath long surpassed the Florentine,
The Urbinate and... what if I dared add,
Even his master, yea the Cortonese,

I mean the accomplished Ciro Ferri, Sirs ! (- Did not he die? I'll see before I print.)

Of every piece of evidence in point,
How bloody Herod slew these innocents, -
Until the glad result is gained, the group
Demonstrably presented in detail,
Their slumber and his onslaught,
Yea, and, availing me of help allowed
By law, discreet provision lest my lords
Be too much troubled by effrontery,
The rack, law plies suspected crime withal
(Law that hath listened while the lyrist sang
"Lene tormentum ingenio admoves,"
Gently thou joggest by a twinge the wit,

66

Plerumque duro," else were slow to blab!)
Through this concession my full cup runs o'er :
The guilty owns his guilt without reserve.
Therefore by part and part I clutch my case
Which, in entirety now, - momentous task, -
My lords demand, so render them I must,
Since, one poor pleading more and I have done.
But shall I ply my papers, play my proofs,
Parade my studies, fifty in a row,

As though the Court were yet in pupilage,
Claimed not the artist's ultimate appeal?
Much rather let me soar the height prescribed
And, bowing low, proffer my picture's self!
No more of proof, disproof, such virtue was,
Such vice was never in Pompilia, now !

I, by the guidance of antiquity, (Our one infallible guide,) now operate, Sure that the innocence thus shown is safe; Sure, too, that, while I plead, the echoes cry (Lend my weak voice thy trump, sonorous Fame!)

"Monstrosity the Phrynean shape shall mar, Lucretia's soul comport with Tarquin's lie, When thistles grow on vines or thorns yield figs, Or oblique sentence leave this judgment-seat!

A great theme: may my strength be adequate !
For
- paint Pompilia, dares my feebleness?
How did I unaware engage so much
- Find myself undertaking to produce
A faultless nature in a flawless form?
What's here? Oh, turn aside nor dare the
blaze

Of such a crown, such constellation, say,
As jewels here thy front, Humanity!
First, infancy, pellucid as a pearl;

Then, childhood-stone which, dewdrop at the

first,

(An old conjecture) sucks, by dint of gaze,
Blue from the sky and turns to sapphire so:
Yet both these gems eclipsed by, last and best,
Womanliness and wifehood opaline,

Its milk-white pallor, chastity, - suffused
With here and there a tint and hint of flame,
Desire, the lapidary loves to find.
Such jewels bind conspicuously thy brow,
Pompilia, infant, child, maid, woman, wife
Crown the ideal in our earth at last!
What should a faculty like mine do here?
Close eyes, or else, the rashlier hurry hand!

Which is to say, lose no time but begin!

Sermocinando ne declamem, Sirs,

Ultra clepsydram, as our preachers smile,
Lest I exceed my hour-glass. Whereupon,
As Flaccus prompts, I dare the epic plunge -
Begin at once with marriage, up till when
Little or nothing would arrest your love,
In the easeful life o' the lady; lamb and lamb,
How do they differ? Know one, you know all

comes next?

What

"T is Guido henceforth guides Pompilia's step, Cries, No more friskings o'er the foodful glebe, Else, 'ware the whip!" Accordingly, -first crack

O' the thong, -we hear that his young wife was barred,

Cohibita fuit, from the old free life,
Vitam liberiorem ducere.

Demur we? Nowise: heifer brave the hind?
We seek not there should lapse the natural law,
The proper piety to lord and king

And husband let the heifer bear the yoke!
Only, I crave he cast not patience off,

This hind; for deem you she endures the whip,
Nor winces at the goad, nay, restive, kicks?
What if the adversary's charge be just,
And all untowardly she pursue her way
With groan and grunt, though hind strike ne'er
so hard?

If petulant remonstrance made appeal,
Unseasonable, o'erprotracted, -if
Importunate challenge taxed the public ear
When silence more decorously had served
For protestation, - if Pompilian plaint
Wrought but to aggravate Guidonion ire,
Why, such mishaps, ungainly though they be,
Ever companion change, are incident
To altered modes and novelty of life:
The philosophic mind expects no less,
Smilingly knows and names the crisis, sits
Waiting till old things go and new arrive.
Therefore, I hold a husband but inept
Who turns impatient at such transit-time,
As if this running from the rod would last!

Since, even while I speak, the end is reached: Success awaits the soon-disheartened man.

The parents turn their backs and leave the house,

But what if, as 't is wont with plant and wife,
Flowers after a suppression to good end,
Still, when they do spring forth-sprout here,
spread there,

Anywhere likelier than beneath the foot

O' the lawful good-man gardener of the ground?
He dug and dibbled, sowed and watered, - still
'Tis a chance wayfarer shall pluck the increase.
Just so, respecting persons not too much,
The lady, foes allege, put forth each charm
And proper floweret of feminity

To whosoever had a nose to smell

Or breast to deck: what if the charge be true? The fault were graver had she looked with choice,

Fastidiously appointed who should grasp,
Who, in the whole town, go without the prize!
To nobody she destined donative,

But, first come was first served, the accuser saith.

Put case her sort of ... in this kind...

escapes

Were many and oft and indiscriminate
Impute ye as the action were prepense,
The gift particular, arguing malice so?
Which butterfly of the wide air shall brag
"I was preferred to Guido "- when 't is clear
The cup, he quaffs at, lay with olent breast
Open to gnat, midge, bee and moth as well?
One chalice entertained the company;
And if its peevish lord object the more,
Mistake, misname such bounty in a wife,
Haste we to advertise him-charm of cheek,
Lustre of eye, allowance of the lip,
All womanly components in a spouse,
These are no household-bread each stranger's
bite

Leaves by so much diminished for the mouth
O' the master of the house at supper-time:
But rather like a lump of spice they lie,
Morsel of myrrh, which scents the neighborhood
Yet greets its lord no lighter by a grain.

Nay, even so, he shall be satisfied!
Concede we there was reason in his wrong,
Grant we his grievance and content the man!
For lo, Pompilia, she submits herself;
Ere three revolving years have crowned their

For who is here, long sought and latest found,
Waiting his turn unmoved amid the whirl,
Constans in levitate," -- Ha, my lords?
Calm in his levity, indulge the quip!--
Since 't is a levite bears the bell away,
Parades him henceforth as Pompilia's choice.
'Tis no ignoble object, husband! Doubt'st?
When here comes tripping Flaccus with his
phrase,

"Trust me, no miscreant singled from the mob, Crede non illum tibi de scelesta

Plebe delectum," but a man of mark,

A priest, dost hear? Why then, submit thyself!

Priest, ay, and very phoenix of such fowl,
Well-born, of culture, young and vigorous,
Comely too, since precise the precept points-
On the selected levite be there found

Nor mole nor scar nor blemish, lest the mind
Come all uncandid through the thwarting flesh!
Was not the son of Jesse ruddy, sleek,
Pleasant to look on, pleasant every way?
Since well he smote the harp and sweetly sang,
And danced till Abigail came out to see,
And seeing smiled and smiling ministered
The raisin-cluster and the cake of figs,
With ready meal refreshed the gifted youth,
Till Nabal, who was absent shearing sheep,
Felt heart sink, took to bed (discreetly done -
They might have been beforehand with him else)
And died- would Guido have behaved as well?
But ah, the faith of early days is gone,
Heu prisca fides! Nothing died in him
Save courtesy, good sense and proper trust,
Which, when they ebb from souls they should
o'erflow,

Discover stub, weed, sludge and ugliness.
(The Pope, we know, is Neapolitan
And relishes a sea-side simile.)

Deserted by each charitable wave,

Guido, left high and dry, shows jealous now!
Jealous avouched, paraded: tax the fool
With any peccadillo, he responds,
"Truly I beat my wife through jealousy,
Imprisoned her and punished otherwise,
Being jealous: now would threaten, sword in
hand,

Now manage to mix poison in her sight,
And so forth: jealously I dealt, in fine."
Concede thus much, and what remains to prove?
Have I to teach my masters what effect
Hath jealousy, and how, befooling men,
It makes false true, abuses eye and ear,
Turns mere mist adamantine, loads with sound
Silence, and into void and vacancy
Crowds a whole phalanx of conspiring foes?
Therefore who owns "I watched with jealousy
My wife," adds for no reason in the world!
What need that, thus proved madman, he re-
mark

"The thing I thought a serpent proved an eel "?

Perchance the right Comacchian, six foot length,

And not an inch too long for that rare pie
(Master Arcangeli has heard of such)
Whose succulence makes fasting bearable;
Meant to regale some moody splenetic

Tyranny wakes rebellion from its sleep.
Rebellion, say I?—rather, self-defence,
Laudable wish to live and see good days,
Pricks our Pompilia now to fly the fool
By any means, at any price, ― nay, more,
Nay, most of all, i' the very interest
O' the fool that, baffled of his blind desire
At any price, were truliest victor so.
Shall he effect his crime and lose his soul?
No, dictates duty to a loving wife!
Far better that the unconsummate blow,
Adroitly balked by her, should back again,
Correctively admonish his own pate!

"With horns the bull, with teeth the lion fights;

To woman," quoth the lyrist quoted late, "Nor teeth, nor horns, but beauty, Nature gave!"

Pretty i' the Pagan! Who dares blame the use
Of armory thus allowed for natural,
Exclaim against a seeming-dubious play
O' the sole permitted weapon, spear and shield
Alike, resorted to i' the circumstance

By poor Pompilia? Grant she somewhat plied
Arts that allure, the magic nod and wink,
The witchery of gesture, spell of word,
Whereby the likelier to enlist this friend,
Yea stranger, as a champion on her side?"
Such man, being but mere man, ('t was all she
knew,)

Must be made sure by beauty's silken bond,
'The weakness that subdues the strong, and
bows

Wisdom alike and folly. Grant the tale

O'the husband, which is false, were proved and true

To the letter-or the letters, I should say,
Abominations he professed to find

And fix upon Pompilia and the priest,
Allow them hers-for though she could not

write,

In early days of Eve-like innocence

That plucked no apple from the knowledge

tree,

Yet, at the Serpent's word, Eve plucks and eats And knows-especially how to read and write:

So she, through hunger after fellowship,
May well have learned, though late, to play the
scribe:

As indeed, there's one letter on the list
Explicitly declares did happen here.

You thought my letters could be none of mine,"

She tells her parents-"mine, who wanted skill;

But now I have the skill, and write, you see!"
She needed write love-letters, so she learned,
Negatas artifex sequi voces - though
This letter nowise 'scapes the common lot,
But lies i' the condemnation of the rest,
Found by the husband's self who forged them
all.

Yet, for the sacredness of argument,
For this once an exemption shall it plead
Anything, anything to let the wheels
Of argument run glibly to their goal!
Concede she wrote (which were preposterous)
This and the other epistle, what of it?
Where does the figment touch her candid
fame?

Being in peril of her life-". my life,

Not an hour's purchase," as the letter runs,
And having but one stay in this extreme,
Out of the wide world but a single friend-
What could she other than resort to him,
And how with any hope resort but thus ?
Shall modesty dare bid a stranger brave
Danger, disgrace, nay death in her behalf-
Think to entice the sternness of the steel
Yet spare love's loadstone moving manly
mind?

Most of all, when such mind is hampered so
By growth of circumstance athwart the life
O'the natural man, that decency forbids
He stoop and take the common privilege,
Say frank "I love," as all the vulgar do.
A man is wedded to philosophy,

Married to statesmanship; a man is old;
A man is fettered by the foolishness
He took for wisdom and talked ten years

since;

A man is, like our friend the Canon here,
A priest, and wicked if he break his vow:
Shall he dare love, who may be Pope one day?
Despite the coil of such encumbrance here,
Suppose this man could love, unhappily,
And would love, dared he only let love show!
In case the woman of his love speaks first,
From what embarrassment she sets him free!
"Tis I who break reserve, begin appeal,
Confess that, whether you love me or no,
I love you!" What an ease to dignity,
What help of pride from the hard high-backed