BROWNING'S ITALY (8 page)

in the play have all the suspicion and the latent hatred which the Church engendered in its attitude toward the Moors, while the complete triumph of Luria in winning the love of his Florentines may symbolize the final union of Oriental and Occidental ideals as it has been realized in later centuries.

The Poet foreshadows this idea in Luria's fancy that the Duomo might be finished with a Moorish front, a sketch of which he makes. Braccio's remarks upon seeing this drawing in the tent sum up the whole Situation.

Brac. I see —

A Moorish front, nor of such ill design! Lapo, there's one thing piain and positive; Man seeks his own good at the whole world's cost. What ? If to lead our troops, stand forth our chiefs, And hold our fate, and see us at their beck, Yet render up the charge when peace return, Have ever proved too much for Florentines, Even for the best and bravest of ourselves — If in the struggle when the soldier's sword Should sink its point before the statist's pen, And the calm head replace the violent hand, Virtue on virtue still have fallen away Before ambition with unvarying fate, Till Florence' seif at last in bitterness Be forced to own such falls the natural end, And, sparing further to expose her sons To a vain strife and profitless disgrace, Declare, "The foreigner, one not my child,

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Shall henceforth lead my troops, reach height by height The glory, then descend into the shame; So shall rebellion be less guilt in him, And punishment the easier task for me:"

— If on the best of us such brand she set, Can I suppose an utter alien here, This Lima, our inevitable foe, Confessed a mercenary and a Moor, Born free from many ties that bind the rest Of common faith in Heaven or hope on earth, No past with us, no future, — such a spirit Shall hold the path from which our stanchest broke, Stand firm where every famed precursor feil ? My Lapo, I will frankly say, these proofs So duly noted of the man's intent, \ Are for the doting fools at home, not me. f The charges here, they may be true or false:

— What is set down ? Errors and oversights, A dallying interchange of courtesies With Pisa's General, — all that, hour by hour, Puccio's pale discontent has furnished us, J Of petulant speeches, inconsiderate acts, Now overhazard, overcaution now; Even that he loves this lady who believes She outwits Florence, and whom Florence posted By my procurement here, to spy on me, Lest I one minute lose her from my sight — She who remembering her whole House's fall, That nest of traitors strangled in the birth, Now labors to make Luria (poor device As piain) the Instrument of her revenge!

— That she is ever at his ear to prompt Inordinate conceptions of his worth, Exorbitant belief in worth's reward,

And alter, when sure disappointment follows,

Proportional rage at such a wrong —

Why, all these reasons, while I urge them most,

Weigh with me less than least; as nothing weigh.

Upon that broad man's-heart of his, I go:

On what I know must be, yet while I live

Shall never be, because I live and know.

Brute-force shall not rule Florence! Intellect

May rule her, bad or good as chance supplies:

But intellect it shall be, pure if bad,

And intellect's tradition so kept up.

Till the good come — 'twas intellect that mied,

Not brute-force bringing from the battlefield

The attributes of wisdom, foresight's graces

We lent it there to Iure its grossness on;

All which it took for earnest and kept safe

To show against us in our market-place,

Just as the plumes and tags and swordsman's-gear

(Fetched from the camp where, at their foolish best,

When all was done they f rightened nobody)

Perk in our faces in the street, forsooth,

With our own Warrant and allowance. No!

The whole procedure's overcharged, — its end

In too strict keeping with the bad first step.

To conquer Pisa was sheer inspiration ?

Well then, to perish for a single fault;

Let that be simple justice! There, my Lapo!

A Moorish front ill suits our Duomo's body:

Blot it out — and bid Luria's sentence come!

Another glimpse of Florentine ways is given in the part of Domizia who is bent upon revenge for the destruction of her family. Such incidents were of frequent occurrence in

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Florence. She hopes to make Luria the in-strument of her revenge, knowing that Florence will turn against him, she looks for him to take his revenge and destroy Florence. One after another temptations to turn against Florence assail Luria. First comes Tiburzio armed with a letter disclosing the intended treachery of the Florentines, to off er him the leadership of the Pisan forces. Read how Luria acts:

Tib. Luria, you know the peril imminent On Pisa, — that you have us in the toils, Us her last safeguard, all that intercepts The rage of her implacablest of foes Prom Pisa: if we fall to-day, she falls. Though Lucca will arrive, yet, 'tis too late. You have so plainly here the best of it, That you must feel, brave solcher as you are, How dangerous we grow in this extreme, How truly formidable by despair. Still, probabilities should have their weight: The extreme chance is ours, but, that chance failing, You win this battle. Wheref ore say I this ? To be well apprehended when I add, This danger absolutely comes from you. Were you, who threaten thus, a Florentine . . .

Lur. Sir, I am nearer Florence than her sons. I can, and have perhaps obliged the State, Nor paid a mere son's duty.

Tib. Even so.

Were you the son of Florence, yet endued With all your present nobleness of soul,

No question, what I must communicate Would not detach you from her.

Lur. Me, detach ?

Tib. Time urges. You will ruin presently Pisa, you never knew, for Florence' sake You think you know. I have from time to time Made prize of certain secret missives sent From Braccio here, the Commissary, home: And knowing Florence otherwise, I piece The entire chain out, from these its scattered links. Your trial occupies the Signory; They sit in judgment on your conduct now. When men at home inquire into the acte Which in the field e'en foes appreciate . . . Brief, they are Florentines! You, saving them, Seek but the sure destruction saviors find.

Lur. Tiburzio!

Tib. All the wonder is of course.

I am not here to teach you, nor direct, Only to loyally apprise — scarce that. This is the latest letter, sealed and safe, As it left here an hour ago. One way Of two thought free to Florence, I command. The duplicate is on its road; but this, — Read it, and then I shall have more to say.

Lur. Florence!

Tib. Now, were yourself a Florentine,

This letter, let it hold the worst it can, Would be no reason you should fall away. The mother city is the mother still, And recognition of the children's Service Her own affair; reward — there's no reward! But you are bound by quite another tie. Nor nature shows, nor reason, why at first

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A foreigner, born friend to all alike,

Should give himself to any special State

More than another, stand by Florence' side

Rather than Pisa; *tis as fair a city

You war against, as that you fight for — famed

As well as she in story, graced no less

With noble heads and patriotic hearts:

Nor to a stranger's eye would either cause,

Stripped of the cumulative loves and hates

Which take importance from familiär view,

Stand as the right and sole to be upheld.

Therefore, should the preponderating gift

Of love and trust, Florence was first to throw,

Which made you hers, not Pisa's, void the scale, —

Old ties dissolving, things resume their place,

And all begins again. Break seal and read!

At least let Pisa off er for you now!

And I, as a good Pisan, shall rejoice,

Though for myself I lose, in gaining you,

This last fight and its opportunity;

The chance it brings of saving Pisa yet,

Or in the turn of battle dying so

That shame should want its extreme bitterness.

Lur. Tiburzio, you that fight for Pisa now As I for Florence . . . say my chance were yours! You read this letter, and you find . . . no, no! Too mad!

Tib. I read the letter, find they purpose

When I have crushed their foe, to crush me: well?

Lur. You, being their captain, what is it you do ?

Tib. Why, as it is, all cities are alike; As Florence pays you, Pisa will pay me. I shall be as belied, whate'er the event, As you, or more: my weak head, they will say

Prompted this last expedient, my faint heart

Entailed on them indelible disgrace,

Both which defects ask proper punishinent.

Another tenure of obedience, mine!

You are no son of Pisa's: break and read!

Lur. And act on what I read ? What act were fit ? If the firm-fixed foundation of my faith In Florence, who to me Stands for mankind, — If that break up and, disimprisoning From the abyss . . . Ah friend, it cannot be! You may be very sage, yet — all the world Having to fail, or your sagacity, You do not wish to find yourself alone! What would the world be worth ? Whose love be sure ? The world remains: you are deceived!

Tib. Your hand!

I lead the vanguard. — If you fall, beside, The better, I am left to speak! For me, This was my duty, nor would I rejoice If I could help, it misses its effect; And after all you will look gallantly Found dead here with that letter in your breast.

Lur. Tiburzio — I would see these people once And test them ere I answer finally! At your arrival let the trumpet sound: If mine return not then the wonted cry It means that I believe — am Pisa's!

Tib. Well!

[Qoe8.

Lur. My heart will have it he speaks true! My blood Beats close to this Tiburzio as a friend. If he had stept into my watch-tent, night And the wild desert füll of foes around, I should have broke the bread and given the salt

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Secure, and, when my hour of watch was done,

Taken my turn to sleep between his knees

Safe in the untroubled brow and honest cheek.

Oh world, where all things pass and naught abides,

Oh life, the long mutation — is it so ?

Is it with life as with the body's change ?

— Where, e'en though better follow, good must pass,

Nor manhood's strength can mate with boyhood's grace,

Nor age's wisdom, in its turn, find strength,

But silently the first gift dies away,

And though the new stays, never both at once. Life's time of savage instinct o'er with me, It fades and dies away, past trusting more, As if to punish the ingratitude With which I turned to grow in these new lights, And learned to look with European eyes. Yet it is better, this cold certain way, Where Braccio's brow teils nothing, Puccio's mouth, Domizia's eyes reject the searcher: yes! For on their calm sagacity I lean, Their sense of right» deliberate choice of good, Sure, as they know my deeds, they deal with me. Yes, that is better — that is best of all! Such faith stays when mere wild belief would go. Yes — when the desert creature's heart, at fault Amid the scattering tempest's pillared sands, Betrays its step into the pathless drift — The calm instructed eye of man holds fast By the sole bearing of the visible star, Sure that when slow the whirling wreck subside, The boundaries, lost now, shall be found again, — The palm-trees and the pyramid over all. Yes: I trust Florence: Pisa is deceived.

{Enter Bbaccio, Puccio, and Domizia.)

Brac. Noon's at an end: no Lucca? You must fight.

Lur. Do you remember, ever, gentle friends, I am no Florentine ?

Dom. It is yourself

Who still are forcing us, importunately, To bear in mind what eise we should forget.

Lur. For loss! —for what I lose in being none! No shrewd man, such as you yourselves respect, But would remind you of the stranger's loss In natural friends and advocates at home, Hereditary loves, even rivalships With precedent for honor and reward. Still, there's a gain, too! If you take it so, The stranger's lot has special gain as well. Do you forget there was my own far East I might have given away myself to, once, As now, to Florence and for such a gift, Stood there like a descended deity ? There, worship waits us: what is it waits here?

[Shows the letter. See! Chance has put into my hand the means Of knowing what I earn, before I work. Should I fight better, should I fight the worse, With payment palpably before me ? See! Here lies my whole reward! Best learn it now Or keep it for the end's entire delight ?

Brac. If you serve Florence as the vulgär serve, For swordsman's pay alone, — break seal and read! In that case, you will find your füll desert.

Lur. Give me my one last happy moment, friends! You need me now, and all the graciousness This letter can contain will hardly balance The after-feeling that you need no more. This moment... oh, the East has use with you!