The Browning Cyclopaedia Part 32

"Devil, whose task it is To trip the all-but-at perfection."

Unhappily, he had just missed his chance of appearing grandly right before the world. When he took his a.s.sa.s.sins to the villa he was fortunate, it is true, in finding all at home--the three to kill; but he had been unlucky in not escaping, as he had arranged. Then, when he thought he had killed his wife (with his knowledge of anatomy too!), she must linger for four whole days, the surgeon keeping her alive that every soul in Rome might learn her story. All the world could listen then. Had it not been for that he would have had a tale to tell that would have saved his head: he would have sworn he had caught Pompilia in the embraces of the priest, who had escaped in the darkness. And now she has lived to forgive him, commend him to the mercies of G.o.d, while fixing his head upon the block. And then at his trial all was against him: the dice were loaded, and the lawyers of no service to him. Yet he is sure that the Roman people approve his deed, though the mob is in love with his murdered wife. He says "there was no touch in her of hate." The angels would not be able to make a heaven for her if she knew he were in h.e.l.l, she would pray him into heaven against his will; for it is h.e.l.l which he demands, so heartily does he hate the good! Yes, he is impenitent,--no spark of contrition. Would the Church slay the impenitent? He pa.s.sionately tells the Cardinal that he knows he is wronged, yet will not help him. As he sees no chance of their relenting, he tries to influence them by suggesting how he could have helped their chances at the next election of a Pope, which cannot be long delayed. Then he falls to entreaty again: "Save my life, Cardinal; I adjure you in G.o.d's name!" begs him go, fall at the Pope's feet, tell him he is innocent; and if that serve him not, say he is an atheist, and implore him not to send his soul to perdition. "Take your crucifix away!"

he cries. Then, when all seems hopeless, he begins to abuse the Pope, the Cardinals, and all. He hates his victims too, he protests, as much as when he slew them; and while he curses, impenitent, scornful and full of malice, he hears the chant of the Brotherhood of Mercy, who sing the Office of the Dying at his cell-door. Then he shrieks that all he had been saying was false; he was mad:

"Don't open! Hold me from them! I am yours, I am the Grand Duke's--no, I am the Pope's!

Abate,--Cardinal,--Christ,--Maria,--G.o.d, ...

Pompilia, will you let them murder me?"

NOTES.--Line 13, _Certosa_: a Carthusian monastery, La Certosa, in Val'

Emo, is situated about four miles from Florence. It was founded about 1341. It is Gothic, and is built in a grand style, like that of a castle.

l. 186, _mannaia_: an instrument for beheading criminals, much like the guillotine. l. 188, _"Mouth-of-Truth"--Bocca della Verita_: S. Maria in Cosmedin, in ancient Rome. From the mouth of a fountain to the left is the portico, into which, according to a mediaeval belief, the ancient Romans thrust their right hands when taking an oath. l. 261, "_Merry Tales_": the novels and tales of Franco Sacchetti (1335-1400). He wrote some three hundred _novelle_ in pure Tuscan. l. 272, _Albano_, or _Albani, Francesco_ (1578-1660): a celebrated Italian painter, who was born at Bologna. He lived and taught in Rome for many years. Among the best of his sacred pictures are a "St. Sebastian" and an "a.s.sumption of the Virgin," both in the church of St. Sebastian at Rome. l. 274, "_Europa and the bull_": Europa was the daughter of Agenor, king of Phnicia. Jupiter became enamoured of her, and a.s.sumed the form of a beautiful bull. When Europa mounted on his back he carried her off. l. 291, _Atlas_ and _axis_ are bones of the neck on which the head turns: the _atlas_ is the first cervical vertebra, the _axis_ is the second cervical vertebra; _symphyses_, the union of bones with each other. l. 327, "_Petrus, quo vadis?_" "Peter, whither goest thou?" On the Appian Way at Rome there is a small church called Domine Quo Vadis, so named from the legend that St.

Peter, fleeing from the death of a martyr, here met his Master, and inquired of Him, "Domine, quo vadis?" ("Lord, whither goest Thou?") to which he received the reply, "Venio iterum crucifigi" ("I come to be crucified again")--whereupon the apostle, ashamed of his weakness, returned. l. 569, _King Cophetua_: an imaginary king of Africa, who fell in love with a beggar girl. He married her, and lived happily with her for many years. l. 683, "_and tinkle near_": at the ma.s.s, when the priest consecrates the elements, a small bell is rung by the server to acquaint the wors.h.i.+ppers with the fact that the consecration has taken place. This, of course, is the most solemn part of the ma.s.s, when the wors.h.i.+ppers are most attentive. l. 685, _Trebbian_: from Trevi, in the valley of the c.l.i.tumnus. l. 786, "_Hocus-pocus_"; Nares says these words represent Ochus Bochus, an Italian magician invoked by jugglers; but there are other explanations. _Vallombrosa Convent_: a famous convent near Florence.

Milton says, "Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks in Vallombrosa" (_Paradise Lost_, i. 302). But the trees are pines, and _not deciduous_. l. 1119, "_the Etruscan monster_": Mr. Browning was a student of Etruscan art and archaeology. The Etruscans were the nation conquered by the Romans, and their antiquities are abundant in the district between Rome and Florence. The monster is the Chimaera, represented with three heads--those of a lion, a goat, and a dragon. Bellerophon, mounted on the horse Pegasus, attacked and overcame it. l. 1413, _Armida_: a beautiful sorceress, a prominent character in Ta.s.so's _Jerusalem Delivered_. l.

1416, _Rinaldo_, in the same poem, was the Achilles of the Crusaders'

army. He ran away from home at the age of fifteen, and was enrolled in the adventurers' squadron. Rinaldo fell in love with Armida, and wasted his time in voluptuous pleasures. l. 1420, _zecchines_, or _sequins_: Venetian gold coins, worth about 9_s._ 6_d._ l. 1669, _stinche_: a prison. l. 1808, "_Helping Vienna_": this refers to the second siege of Vienna by the Turks in 1683, when 150,000 Turks sat down before the city, Cara Mustapha being their leader. Pope Innocent XI. and John Sobieski, king of Poland, entered into a league to oppose the common enemy of Christian Europe. The whole Turkish army was defeated, and fled in the utmost disorder after the great battle fought under the walls of Vienna on Sept. 12th, 1683. l. 1850, _Gaudeamus_, "let us be glad." l. 1925, _Jove aegiochus_: Jupiter was surnamed aegiochus because, according to some authors, he was brought up by a goat. Properly the name is from the _aegis_ which the G.o.d bore. l. 1928, "_Seventh aeneid_": Virgil's great poem was the "aeneis," which has for its subject the settlement of aeneas in Italy. The pa.s.sage referred to is in the _Eighth Book_ (426), and begins "His informatum, manibus jam parte polita." l. 2034, "_Romano vivitur more_": Life goes on in the Roman way.

l. 2051, "_Byblis in fluvius_": Byblis fell in love with her brother, and was changed into a fountain. l. 2052, "_sed Lycaon in lupum_": a cruel king of Arcadia, named Lycaon, was changed into a wolf by Jupiter, because he offered human sacrifices on the altar of the G.o.d Pan. l. 2144, _Paynimrie_, heathendom. l. 2184, _Olimpia_, in _Orlando Furioso_: Countess of Holland and wife of Bireno: when her husband deserted her she was bound naked to a rock by pirates, but Orlando delivered her and took her to Ireland. _Bianca_: wife of Fazio. She tried to save her husband from death; failed, went mad, and died of a broken heart. l. 2185, _Ormuz wealth_: the island Ormuz, in the Persian Gulf, is a mart for diamonds. l.

2211, _Circe_: a sorceress, who turned the companions of Ulysses into swine. Ulysses resisted the metamorphosis by virtue of the herb _moly_, given him by Mercury. l. 2214, _Lucrezia di Borgia_: she was thrice married, her last husband being Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara. Through her influence many persons were put to death. Her natural son Gennaro having been poisoned, she died herself as he expired. l. 2414, "_Who are these you have let descend my stair?_" They were the Brothers of Mercy, whose duty it was to attend criminals on the scaffold. Their chant was the Office of the Dying.

BOOK XII., THE BOOK AND THE RING.--On Feb. 22nd, 1698, Guido and his confederates were executed. We have, in the concluding book of this long poem, the reports of the execution, and the comments made concerning it in Rome, from four persons. The first which the poet gives is a letter from a stranger, a man of rank, on a visit to Rome from Venice. He begins his letter on the evening of the day in question, by stating that the Carnival is nearly over, the city very full of strangers, the old Pope tottering on the verge of the grave, and the people already beginning to discuss his probable successor. The Pope took daily exercise a week ago by the river-side, for the weather was like May. Then, after more gossip about politics, he says he has lost his bet of fifty sequins by the execution of the Count: he had felt, up to two days ago, that he would win the wager, as everybody seemed to think the Count would save his head; but the Pope's was the one deaf ear to every appeal for a reprieve, and so "persisted in the butchery." One of the writer's friends was so annoyed at the Pope's refusal to spare the life of a man with whom he had dined, that he would have actually stayed away from the execution, had it not been for a lady, whose presence on that occasion made it a desirable amus.e.m.e.nt for him. Of course, everybody of any importance was there, and the people made a general holiday of the occasion. Then he narrates how the ecclesiastics who had attended Guido on the eve of his execution considered that their efforts to prepare him for the next world had been crowned at last with complete success. The procession from the prison to the place of execution is described; and severe exception is taken to the choice of the Piazza del Popolo, as a deliberate affront to the aristocracy residing there.

Still, it had its compensations, as it afforded a fine spectacle, and made, on the whole, a very pleasant day. There were the usual incidents of a street crowd: the man run over and killed; the pus.h.i.+ng and struggling for good places; outcries there were, also, against the Pope for forbidding the Lottery; and a miracle was worked upon a lame beggar by the prayer of the holy Guido as he glanced that way. The Count was the last to mount the scaffold steps, and the n.o.bility were so occupied with observing him and his behaviour in the presence of death, that they paid no attention to the peasants who dangled on their respective ropes at the gallows. The Count made a speech to the mult.i.tude, and comported himself as became a good Christian gentleman. He begged forgiveness of G.o.d, and hoped his fellow-men would put a fair construction on his acts; asked their prayers for his soul, suggesting that they should forthwith say an "Our Father" and a "Hail, Mary!" for his sake. Then he turned to his confessor, made the sign of the cross, and cast a fervent glance at the church over the way; rose up, knelt down again, bent his head, and with the name of Jesus on his lips received the headsman's blow. That functionary showed the head to the populace in due form, and the spectacle was over. The strangers present were a little disappointed at the Count's height and general appearance. They understood he was fully six feet high, and youngish for his years, and if not handsome, at least dignified; but his face was not one to please a wife. No doubt something was due to the rough costume in which he committed the murder,--a coa.r.s.e and shabby dress enough. His end was peace. If his friend wishes to bet on the next Pope, he will give him a hint; and now will conclude with the last new pasquinade which has amused the city.

There were three letters which were bound up with Mr. Browning's famous "find" at Florence. One of these was written by the Count's advocate, De Archangelis, concerning certain fresh points intended to be used in mitigation of the sentence; but the lawyer explains that the Pope had set every plea aside, and had hastened the execution. The letter is addressed to the friends of the Count, and the client is referred to as a gallant man, who died in faith in an exemplary manner. He considers that no blot has fallen on the escutcheon of his n.o.ble house, as he had respect and commiseration from all Rome, and from the cultivated everywhere. He concludes by hoping that G.o.d may compensate for this direful blow by sending future blessings on the family. Enclosed with this communication is another, not intended for the n.o.ble persons to whom the above polite effusion is addressed. This is for their lawyer, and is to be kept to himself. He tells him that their "Pisan aid" was of no avail: the Pope was determined to see Guido's head drop off, and would not listen to reason.

Especially annoying was it that his superb defence was wasted: he got nothing for his work, and he does not care how soon the obstinate and inept Pope dies. He tells his correspondent, who is his boy's G.o.dfather, how much the lad enjoyed the fine sight at the execution. He had promised him, if his defence failed to save the Count's head, that he should go and see it chopped off. This was exactly to the boy's taste; and he sat at a window with a great lady, who twitted the boy on the triumph of his father's opponent Bottini, saying that his "papa, with all his eloquence, cannot be reckoned on to help as before." The boy cleverly replied that his "papa knew better than offend the Pope and baulk him of his grudge against the Count; he would else have argued off Bottini's nose." He would have his opponent see that he was a man able to drive right and left horses at once.--The next letter is from the Fisc Bottini, who says the case ended as he foresaw: Pompilia's innocence was easily proved. Guido had made very good sport, and "died like a saint, poor devil!" Bottini regrets he had not been on the other side. Pompilia gave him no opportunity to show his skill; he could have done better with the Count.

He can imagine how De Archangelis crows and boasts that he kept the Fisc a month at bay; he knows how he would grin and bray; but the thing which most annoys him is the behaviour of the monk, whose report of the dying Pompilia's words took all the freshness from his best points; and then, when preaching at San Lorenzo yesterday about the case, from the text "Let G.o.d be true, and every man a liar," said this, which he encloses from a printed copy of the sermon all Rome is reading to-day. "Do not argue from the result of this trial," said the preacher, "that truth may look for vindication from the world." G.o.d seems to acquiesce with those who say 'He sleeps,' and will not always put forth His hand and be recognised:

"Because Pompilia's purity prevails, Conclude you, all truth triumphs in the end?"

Of all the birds that flew from the ark, one only returned: how many perished? So--

"How many chaste and n.o.ble sister-fames Wanted the extricating hand, and lie Strangled, for one Pompilia proud above The welter, plucked from the world's calumny?"

Truth has to wait G.o.d's time; for how long did the pagans of old Rome point to the Catacombs and say, "Down there, below the ground, foul and obscene rites are practised, far from the sight of men"? The most hideous and fearful practices were charged upon the early Christians, who wors.h.i.+pped in those places of refuge; but not for ages did G.o.d's lightning expose to the world those holy receptacles for the mangled remains of His martyred saints, and permit the gaze of the mult.i.tude to penetrate the sacred chambers, where the faith of Christ was kept alive in those dreadful centuries of persecution. Then, when G.o.d did call the world to see the whole secret so long preserved from the world above, what was there to behold?--a poor earthen lump by the rock where the corpse lay, the grave which held the treasured blood of the martyr:

"The rough-scratched palm branch, and the legend left _Pro Christo_."

And so these abhorred ones turned out to be saints. The best defence the law can make for Pompilia is to say that wickedness was bred in her, and after this specimen of man's protection, one wave of G.o.d's hand bids the mists dispel, and the true instinct of a good old man, who hates the dark and loves the light, adduces another proof that "G.o.d is true, and every man a liar": he who trusts to human testimony for a fact thereby proves himself a fool: man is false, man is weak, and "truth seems reserved for heaven, not earth." As for himself, added the friar, "he has long since renounced the world, yet he is not forbidden to estimate the value of that which he has forsaken. If any one were to press him as to his content in having put the pleasures of the world aside, he would answer that, apart from Christ's a.s.surances, he dare not say whether he had not failed to taste much joy; how much of human love in varied forms he had lost; how much joy, from 'books that teach and arts that help,' he had missed. He might have learned how to grow great as well as good. Many precious things, no doubt, he had forsaken; but there was one--the chief object of men's ambition--earthly praise and the world's good repute; in renouncing these, his loss, he is sure, was light, and in choosing obscurity he was convinced he had chosen well." Bottini thinks this is vanity and spite: how dare he say "every man is a liar"! What next? He finds that the sermon has already had its effect for Gomez, who had decided to appeal to another court, and declines to have any more to do with lawyers; he has resolved to let the liars possess the world, and so he must whistle for his job and his fee. He is happy to say, however, that he shall soon be able to show the rabid monk whether law be powerless or not; for by a great piece of luck the convent to which Pompilia was first sent has claimed all her property which she had willed to those who were to act as trustees for her son and heir; as Pompilia had not been relieved at the trial from her imputed fault, the convent had a right to claim its due, and take the whole of the property. It has therefore become the lawyer's duty to inst.i.tute procedure against this very Pompilia, whom last week he held up as a saint, and charging her with having been a very common sort of sinner, perform a volte-face before the selfsame court which he had so recently addressed, and show this "foul-mouthed friar" that his white dove is a sooty raven. The Pope, however, soon rectified this bad business, and issued an "instrument," which the poet says is contained in his precious little account of the trial, by which the Supreme Pontiff restores the perfect fame of the dead Pompilia, and quashes all proceedings brought or threatened to be brought against the heir, by the Most Venerable Convent of the Convert.i.tes in the Corso. So was justice done a second time. Two years later died good Innocent XII., after a rule of nine years in Rome; and so there is an end of the story. Mr. Browning is unable to say what became of the boy Gaetano, the child of Guido and Pompilia.

NOTES.--Line 12, _Wormwood Star_: a star which (it was fabled) appeared at the approach of death. l. 43: If the writer did bet on Spada for Pope he lost, as Cardinal Albani became the next Pope, in 1700. l. 62, _Holy Doors_: certain doors in St. Peter's, at Rome, which are opened only at the commencement of a Papal jubilee, and at its close are at once bricked up again. l. 65, "_Fenelon will be condemned_": Fenelon was one of the Jansenist leaders in France, and Jansenism was on its trial in Rome. l.

89, _Dogana-by-the-Bank_: a new customhouse. l. 104, _Palchetto_: a balcony made of scaffolding, used for public spectacles. l. 105, _The Pincian_: the Pincian hill, beyond the Piazza del Popolo, is a hill of gardens. Here were once the gardens of Lucullus, in which Messalina celebrated her orgies. This is a fas.h.i.+onable drive in the evening for the modern Romans. l. 114, _The Three Streets_ diverge from the Piazza del Popolo on the south; to the right is the _Via di Ripetta_; to the left the _Via del Babuino_, leading to the Piazza di Spagna; in the centre is the _Corso_. l. 139, _The New Prisons--Carceri Nuovi_: these were built by Pope Innocent X. They are situated in the Via Giulia, leading to the Bridge of St. Angelo. l. 140, _Pasquin's Street_: the street in Rome where there stands a mutilated statue in a corner of the palace of Ursini; so called from a cobbler who was remarkable for his sneers and gibes, and near whose shop the statue was dug up. On this statue it has been customary to paste satiric papers. Hence a lampoon _a Pasquinade_ is a piece of satirical writing (_Webster's Dict._). _Place Navona_: the Piazza Navona is the largest in Rome after that of St. Peter. It is officially called Circo Agonale. The name is said to be derived from the _agones_ (corrupted to Navone, Navona), or contests which took place in the circus.

l. 158, _Tern Quatern_: a tern is a prize in a lottery, resulting from the favourable combination of three numbers in the drawing; a quatern is a combination of four numbers; and a combination of these is, I presume, some very exceptional prize for the holders of the tickets. l. 178: "_Pater_," the Lord's Prayer; "_Ave_," the angelical salutation to the Virgin. l. 179, "_Salve Regina Cli_": a hymn to the Virgin, sung at Vespers, which begins with the words "Hail, Queen of Heaven!" l. 184, This is a satire against relic-wors.h.i.+p, and not in very good taste. l. 199, _just-a-corps_: a short coat fitting tightly to the body. l. 208, _quatrain_: a stanza of four lines rhyming alternately. l. 217, _socius_: an ally, a confederate. l. 224, _Tarocs_: a game at cards played with seventy-eight cards. l. 277, "_Quantum est hominum venustiorum_": and all men who have any grace. l. 290, "_hactenus senioribus_": hitherto for our superiors. l. 320, _Themis_: a daughter of Clus and Terra, who married Jupiter against her own inclination. She is represented as holding a sword in one hand and a pair of scales in the other. l. 326, "_case of Gomez_": this was a legal matter before the courts, and which was referred to in one of the ma.n.u.scripts consulted by Mr. Browning when engaged upon the poem. l. 327, "_reliqua differamus in crastinum!_" the rest let us put off till to-morrow; _estafette_: courier. l. 361, "_Bartolus-c.u.m-Baldo_": the names of two eminent Italian jurists. l. 367, "_adverti supplico humiliter quod_": I have observed, I humbly beg that. l. 435, _Spreti_: the subordinate of "De Archangelis"; he is "advocate of the poor." l. 504, "_their idol G.o.d an a.s.s_": the early Christians were accused by their pagan persecutors of all sorts of horrible and degrading superst.i.tions, amongst other things of wors.h.i.+pping the head of an a.s.s. There has recently been discovered amongst the wall scratchings on some relics of ancient Roman buildings the figure of a crucified man with the head of an a.s.s; and an inscription roughly scratched implying that this was the G.o.d of some Christian thus held up to ridicule. l. 520, "_the rude brown lamp_": used in the Catacombs, both for light and for burning at the martyrs' tombs to honour them. l. 521, _the cruse_: thousands of these have been discovered, and are exhibited in the museum at the Church of St. John Lateran in Rome.

l. 522, "_the palm branch_": graven in countless parts of the Roman catacombs, as a sign that the martyr buried beneath it had won the victory, and had conquered by his faith. l. 523, "_pro Christo_," for Christ: that is to say, the martyrs had shed the blood presented in the cruse for Christ's sake. l. 647, _ampollosity_: windbag behaviour. l. 679, "_claim every paul_": paolo, an Italian coin worth sixpence. l. 715, "_Astraea redux_": justice brought back. l. 745, "_Martial's phrase_": _Mart._ iv. 91. l. 787, _Gonfalonier_: Lord Mayor, who bore the standard, or _gonfalon_. l. 811, _Buonarotti_ == Michael Angelo. l. 812, _Vexillifer_, standard-bearer. l. 813, _The Patavinian_: _i.e._, Livy of Padua. l. 815, "_Ja.n.u.s of the double face_": Ja.n.u.s, a Roman deity represented with two faces, because he was acquainted with the past and future, or because he was taken for the sun who opens the day at his rising and shuts it at his setting (_Lempriere_). l. 865, "_Deeper than ever the Andante dived_": a movement or piece in _andante_ (rather slow) time, as the _andante_ in Beethoven's fifth symphony. l. 872, "_Lyric Love_": the poet's dead wife invoked in the first part of this work. Her poems on Italy are referred to in the last line.--The _Encyclopaedia Britannica_, vol. xiii., p. 85, says that Innocent XI. was the Pope of _The Ring and the Book_. Mr. Browning, however, says that Antonio Pignatelli (Innocent XII.) was the Pope in question. The character of the earlier sovereign pontiff certainly agrees better with the story told by the poet than does that of the latter. It may be, as has been suggested by Mr. George W. Cooke, in his _Guide-Book to Browning_, that the poet confounded the two men with each other, or, what is more probable, that he deliberately gave to Innocent XII. qualities which belonged only to Innocent XI. (p. 339). The following sketch of the life of Innocent XI.

(Benedetto Odelscalchi) is taken from the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_: "He was Pope from 1676 to 1689; was born at Como in 1611, studied law at Rome and Naples, [and] held successively the offices of protonotary, President of the Apostolic Chamber, Commissary of the Marca di Roma, and Governor of Macerta; in 1647 Innocent X. made him cardinal, and he afterwards successively became legate to Ferrara and bishop of Novara. In all these capacities the simplicity and purity of character which he displayed had, combined with his unselfish and open-handed benevolence, secured for him a high place in the popular affection and esteem; and two months after the death of Clement X. he was (Sept. 21st, 1676), in spite of French opposition, chosen his successor. He lost no time in declaring and practically manifesting his zeal as a reformer of manners and a corrector of administrative abuses. He sought to abolish sinecures, and to put the papal finances otherwise on a sound footing; beginning with the clergy, he endeavoured to raise the laity also to a higher moral standard of living.

Some of his regulations with the latter object, however, may raise a smile as showing more zeal than judgment. In 1679 he publicly condemned sixty-five propositions, taken chiefly from the writings of Escobar, Suarez, and the like, as '_propositiones laxorum moralistarum_,' and forbade any one to teach them under pain of excommunication. Personally not unfriendly to Molinos, he nevertheless so far yielded to the enormous pressure brought to bear upon him as to confirm in 1687 the judgment of the inquisitors by which sixty-eight Molinist propositions were condemned as blasphemous and heretical. His pontificate was marked by the prolonged struggle with Louis XIV. of France on the subject of the so-called 'Gallican Liberties,' and also about certain immunities claimed by amba.s.sadors to the papal court. He died after a long period of feeble health on August 12th, 1689. Hitherto repeated attempts at his canonisation have invariably failed, the reason popularly a.s.signed being the influence of France. The fine moral character of Innocent has been sketched with much artistic power, as well as with historical fidelity, by Mr. Robert Browning in _The Ring and the Book_."--Innocent XII. (Antonio Pignatelli), whose name Mr. Browning expressly gives, as fixing the ident.i.ty of the Pope whose character he portrayed, was born at Naples in 1615. He took Innocent XI. for his model. This pontiff made him, in 1681, cardinal, bishop of Faenza, legate of Bologna, and archbishop of Naples.

"His election as pope took place February 12th, 1691. At the beginning of his reign he endeavoured to abolish nepotism by means of a bull, in 1692.

His nepotes were the poor--the Lateran his hospital. The Bullarium _magnum_ contains many rules relating to cloister discipline and the life of the secular clergy. His efforts for the restoration of discipline were so great, that scoffers boasted he had reformed the Church both in its head and members. He died on September 27th, 1700. Shortly before his decease he settled a large sum on the hospital he had erected, and ordered that his goods should be sold and the proceeds given to the poor. He was a benevolent and pious prelate" (_Imp. Dict. Univ. Biog._). There is such frequent reference to Molinos and the doctrines of Molinism or Quietism in _The Ring and the Book_, and the subject is so unfamiliar to the general reader, that I have thought it wise to extract the following admirable note on the question from Butler's _Lives of the Saints_, under the date November xxiv., "St. John of the Cross":--"Quietism was broached by Michael Molinos, a Spanish priest and spiritual director in great repute at Rome, who, in his book ent.i.tled _The Spiritual Guide_, established a system of perfect contemplation. It chiefly turns upon the following general principles. 1. That perfect contemplation is a state in which a man does not reason, or reflect, either on G.o.d or himself, but pa.s.sively receives the impression of heavenly light without exercising any acts, the mind being in a state of perfect inaction and inattention, which this author calls quiet. Which principle is a notorious illusion and falsity: for even in supernatural impressions or communications, how much soever a soul may be abstracted from her senses, and insensible to external objects, which act upon their organs, she still exercises her understanding and will, in adoring, loving, praising, or the like, as is demonstrable both from principle and from the testimony of St. Teresa, and all true contemplatives. 2. This fanatic teaches, that a soul in that state desires nothing, not even his own salvation; and fears nothing, not even h.e.l.l itself. This principle, big with pernicious consequences, is heretical; as the precept and constant obligation of hope of salvation through Christ is an article of faith. The pretence that a total indifference is a state of perfection is folly and impiety, as if solicitude about things of duty was not a precept. And so if a man could ever be exempt from the obligation of that charity which he owes both to G.o.d and himself, by which he is bound, above all things, to desire and to labour for his salvation and the eternal reign of G.o.d in his soul. A third principle of this author is no less notoriously heretical: that in such a state the use of the sacraments and good works becomes indifferent; and that the most criminal representations and motions in the sensitive part of the soul are foreign to the superior, and not sinful in this elevated state; as if the sensitive part of the soul was not subject to the government of the rational or superior part, or as if this could be indifferent about what pa.s.ses in it. Some will have it that Molinos carried his last principles so far as to open a door to the abominations of the Gnostics; but most excuse him from admitting that horrible consequence (see F. Avrigny, Honore of St. Mary, etc.). Innocent XI., in 1687, condemned sixty-eight propositions extracted from this author as respectively heretical, scandalous and blasphemous. Molinos was condemned by the Inquisition at Rome, recalled his errors, and ended his life in imprisonment in 1696 (see Argentere, _Collect. Judiciorum de Novis Erroribus_, t. iii., part 2, p. 402; Stevaert, _d.a.m.nat. Prop._, p. 1).

Semi-Quietism was rendered famous by having been for some time patronised by the great Fenelon. Madame Guyon, a widow lady, wrote _An Easy and Short Method of Prayer_, and _Solomon's Canticle of Canticles interpreted in a Mystical Sense_, for which, by order of Lewis XIV., she was confined in a nunnery, but soon after enlarged. Then it was that she became acquainted with Fenelon; and she published the Old Testament with explanations, her own life by herself, and other works, all written with spirit and a lively imagination. She submitted her doctrine to the judgment of Bossuet, esteemed the most accurate theologian in the French dominions. After a mature examination, Bossuet, bishop of Meaux, Cardinal Noailles, Fenelon, then lately nominated archbishop of Cambray, and M. Trowson, superior of S. Sulpice, drew up thirty articles concerning _the sound maxims of a spiritual life_, to which Fenelon added four others. These thirty-four articles were signed by them at Issy in 1695, and are the famous 'Articles of Issy' (see Argentere, _Collectio Judiciorum de Novis Erroribus_, t. iii.; Du Plessis, _Hist. de Meaux_, t. I., p. 492; _Memoires Chronol._, t. iii., p. 28). During this examination Bossuet and Fenelon had frequent disputes for and against disinterested love, or divine love of pure benevolence. This latter undertook in some measure the patronage of Madame Guyon, and in 1697 published a book ent.i.tled _The Maxims of the Saints_, in which a kind of Semi-Quietism was advanced. The clamour which was raised drew the author into disgrace at the court of Lewis XIV., and the book was condemned by Innocent XII. in 1699, on the 12th of March, and on the 9th of April following, by the author himself, who closed his eyes to all the glimmerings of human understanding to seek truth in the obedient simplicity of faith. By this submission he vanquished and triumphed over his defeat itself, and, by a more admirable greatness of soul, over his vanquisher. With the book, twenty-three propositions extracted out of it were censured by the Pope as rash, pernicious in practice, and erroneous respectively; but none were qualified as heretical. The princ.i.p.al error of Semi-Quietism consists in this doctrine,--that, in the state of perfect contemplation, it belongs to the entire annihilation in which a soul places herself before G.o.d, and to the perfect resignation of herself to His will, that she be indifferent whether she be d.a.m.ned or saved; which monstrous extravagance destroys the obligation of Christian hope. The Divine precepts can never clash, but strengthen one another. It would be blasphemy to pretend that because G.o.d, as a universal ruler, suffers sin, we can take a complacence in its being committed by others. G.o.d d.a.m.ns no one but for sin and final impenitence; yet, whilst we adore the Divine justice and sanct.i.ty, we are bound to reject sin with the utmost abhorrence, and deprecate d.a.m.nation with the greatest ardour, both which by the Divine grace we can shun. Where, then, can there be any room for such a pretended resignation, at the very thought of which piety shudders? No such blasphemies occur in the writings of St. Teresa, St. John of the Cross, or other approved spiritual authors.

If they are, or seem to be, expressed in certain parts of some spiritual works, as those of Bernieres, or in the Italian translation of Boudon's _G.o.d Alone_, these expressions are to be corrected by the rule of solid theology. Fenelon was chiefly deceived by the authority of an adulterated edition of _The Spiritual Entertainments of St. Francis of Sales_, published at Lyons, in 1628, by Drobet. Upon the immediate complaint and supplication of St. Francis Chantal and John Francis Sales, brother of the saint, then bishop of Geneva, Lewis XIII. suppressed the privilege granted for the said edition by letters patent given in the camp before Roch.e.l.le in the same year, prefixed to the correct and true edition of that book made at Lyons by Curceillys in 1629, by order of St. Francis Chantal.

Yet this faulty edition, with its additions and omissions, has been sometimes reprinted; and a copy of this edition imposed upon Fenelon, whom Bossuet, who used the right edition, accused of falsifying the book (see _Mem. de Trev._ for July, anno 1558, p. 446). Bossuet had several years before maintained in the schools of Sorbonne, with great warmth, that a love of pure benevolence is chimerical. Nothing is more insisted on in theological schools than the distinction of the love of chaste desire and of benevolence. By the first, a creature loves G.o.d as the creature's own good--that is, upon the motive of enjoying Him, or because he shall possess G.o.d and find in Him his own complete happiness,--in other words, because G.o.d is good to the creature himself, both here and hereafter. The love of benevolence is that by which a creature loves G.o.d purely for His own sake, or because He is in Himself infinitely good. This latter is called pure or disinterested love, or love of charity; the former is a love of an inferior order, and is said by most theologians to belong to hope, not to charity; and many maintain that it can never attain to such a degree of perfection as to be a love of G.o.d above all things; because, say they, he who loves G.o.d merely because He is his own good, or for the sake of his enjoyment, loves Him not for G.o.d's own increated goodness, which is the motive of charity; nor can he love Him more than he does his own enjoyment of Him, though he makes no such comparison, nor even directly or interpretatively forms such an act, that he loves Him not more than he does his own possession of Him--which would be criminal and extremely inordinate. So this love is good, and of obligation, as a part of hope; and it disposes the soul to the love of charity. Bossuet allowed the distinct motives of the loves of chaste desire and of benevolence; but said no act of the latter could be formed by the heart which does not expressly include an act of the former; because, said he, no man can love any good without desiring to himself at the same time the possession of that good or its union with himself, and no man can love another's good merely as another's. This all allow, if this other's good were to destroy or exclude the love of his own good. Hence the habit of love of benevolence must include the habit of the love of desire. But the act may be and often is exercised without it, for good is amiable in itself and for its own sake; and this is the general opinion of theologians. However, the opinion of Bossuet, that an act of the love of benevolence or of charity is inseparable from an actual love of desire is not censured, but is maintained also by F. Honoratus of St. Mary (_Tradition sur la Contempl._, t. iii., ch. iv., p. 273). Mr. Morris carries this notion so far as to pretend that creatures, in loving G.o.d, consider nothing in His perfections but their own good (Letter 2, 'On Divine Love,' p. 8). Some advised Fenelon to make a diversion by attacking Bossuet's sentiments and books at Rome, and convicting him of establis.h.i.+ng theological hope by destroying charity. But the pious archbishop made answer that he never would inflame a dispute by recriminating against a brother, whatever might have seemed prudent to be done at another season. When he was put in mind to beware of the artifices of mankind, which he had so well known and so often experienced, he made answer: "Let us die in our simplicity"

(_moriamur in simplicitate nostra_). On this celebrated dispute the ingenious Claville (_Traite du Vrai Merite_) makes this remark,--that some of those who carried the point were condemned by the public as if they lost charity by the manner in which they carried on the contest; but if Fenelon erred in theory he was led astray by an excess in his desire of charity. By this adversity and submission he improved his own charity and humility to perfection, and arrived at the most easy disposition of heart, disengaged from everything in the world, bowed down to a state of pliableness and docility not to be expressed, and grounded in a love of simplicity which extinguished in him everything besides. Those who admired these virtues in him before were surprised at the great heights to which he afterwards carried them: so much he appeared a new man, though before a model of piety and humility. As to the distinction of the motives in our love of G.o.d, in practice, too nice or anxious an inquiry is generally fruitless and pernicious; for our business is more and more to die to ourselves, purify our hearts, and employ our understanding in the contemplation of the Divine perfections and heavenly mysteries, and our affections in the various acts of holy love--a boundless field in which our souls may freely take their range. And while we blame the extravagances of false mystics, we must never fear being transported to excesses in practice by the love of G.o.d. It can never be carried too far, since the only measure of our love to G.o.d is to 'love without measure,' as St. Bernard says. No transports of pure love can carry souls aside from the right way, so long as they are guided by humility and obedience. In disputes about such things, the utmost care is necessary that charity be not lost in them, that envy and pride be guarded against, and that sobriety and moderation be observed in all inquiries; for nothing is more frequent than for the greatest geniuses, in pursuing subtleties, to lose sight both of virtue, of good sense and reason itself. (See Bossuet's works on this subject, t. vi., especially his _Mystici in Tuto_, in which he is more correct than in some of his other pieces; also Du Plessis, _Hist. de l'Eglise de Meaux_, t. I., p. 485; the several lines of Fenelon, etc.)" Mr. Browning in this poem is like a demonstrator of anatomy in a famous school of dissection--some Sir Charles Bell lecturing to a crowded room full of students; taking up nerve after nerve, following it through all its ramifications, tracing it from its origin in brain or spinal cord, and never leaving it till it is lost in microscopic fibres at the periphery. He is as impartial as the anatomist, who asks no questions as to the presence of the subject on his table: all he has to do with is the science to which he is devoted. Mr. Browning is as happy with Guido in his dungeon as with the Pope in the Vatican, or Pompilia in the presence of the angels waiting to conduct her to G.o.d. The matter in hand is the human soul; and as the greatest poet of the soul that the world has ever seen, he is lost in his work. Count Guido never could have thought or said so much for himself as Browning has said for him. Pompilia's innocent, unsophisticated heart never attempted to formulate such a meditation on her brief history. Caponsacchi, we may be sure, never rose from his sonnets and gallantry to such a conscious elevation of soul as burst suddenly forth in the splendour of Pompilia's soldier-saint on his defence. If the Pope himself, the Vicar of Christ, came to his decision by any such conscious process of reasoning and high-toned Christian philosophy--Catholic because it is the highest expression of the highest thought and n.o.blest impulse of the human heart--as that with which Mr.

Browning has invested him, then Innocent XII. was a man of genius second only to the poet who has "created" him nearly two hundred years after he died. But no! These people lived indeed; they wrought all which their histories tell of them; but how and why, they never knew. G.o.d alone perfectly reads the human heart; and a few men like Browning are privileged to catch a word of the record here and there.

=Roland.= (See CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME.)

=Rosny.= (_Asolando_, 1889.) Love, pure and pa.s.sionate, unrestrained by thought of self, and gluttonous of sacrifice, was the undoing of the hero.

No prudence could keep Rosny from his fate. Strength in love, and its victory in death is judged by the maiden to be the best. Although there does not seem to be any historical incident referred to in the poem, it may be advisable to say that Maximilian de Bethune, duke of Sully (1560-1641), the French statesman, was born at the chateau of Rosny, near Mantes. The t.i.tle of his baronetcy was derived from the name of his birthplace, and he was commonly known by the name of Rosny all his life.

Murray says that "Rosny is a dirty little village about half-way between Mantes and Bonnieres. The chateau was the birthplace of Sully, where he was frequently visited by his friend and master, Henri IV., who slept here the night after his victory at Ivry. The king, having overtaken Sully on the road desperately wounded, carried on a litter, accompanied by his squires in a like plight, fell on his neck and affectionately embraced him. The chateau is a plain, solid building of red brick, with stone quoins and a high tent roof, surrounded by a deep ditch. It was rebuilt by Sully at the beginning of the seventeenth century. From 1818 down to the Revolution of 1830 Rosny was the favourite residence of the d.u.c.h.esse de Berri, who erected here a chapel to contain the heart of her husband."

=Rosamund Page.= (_Martin Relph._) She was the young girl who was shot by the military for supposed treason, and whose innocence would have been proved by her lover Parkes, if Mr. Martin had made known his presence when he saw him arrive at the village from the eminence on which he was standing.

="Round us the Wild Creatures."= (_Ferishtah's Fancies._) The lyric to the first poem, "The Eagle," commences with this line.

=Rudel to the Lady of Tripoli.= (_Dramatic Lyrics_, in _Bells and Pomegranates_, No. III., 1842. Since transferred to _Men and Women_ in _Poetical Works_, 1863.) Geoffrey de Rudel was a gentleman of Blieux, in Provence, and one of those who were presented to Frederick Barbarossa in 1154. He was a troubadour. Sismondi, in his _Literature of the South of Europe_, vol. i., p. 87 (Bohn's Edit.), gives the following account of Rudel:--"The knights who had returned from the Holy Land spoke with enthusiasm of a Countess of Tripoli, who had extended to them the most generous hospitality, and whose grace and beauty equalled her virtues.

Geoffrey Rudel, hearing this account, fell deeply in love with her without having ever seen her, and prevailed upon one of his friends, Bertrand d'Allamanon, a troubadour like himself, to accompany him to the Levant. In 1162 he quitted the court of England, whither he had been conducted by Geoffrey, the brother of Richard I., and embarked for the Holy Land. On his voyage he was attacked by a severe illness, and had lost the power of speech when he arrived at the port of Tripoli. The Countess, being informed that a celebrated poet was dying of love for her on board a vessel which was entering the roads, visited him on s.h.i.+pboard, took him kindly by the hand, and attempted to cheer his spirits. Rudel, we are a.s.sured, recovered his speech sufficiently to thank the Countess for her humanity, and to declare his pa.s.sion, when his expressions of grat.i.tude were silenced by the convulsions of death. He was buried at Tripoli, beneath a tomb of porphyry which the Countess raised to his memory, with an Arabic inscription. I have transcribed his verses on "Distant Love,"

which he composed previous to his last voyage:--

"Angry and sad shall be my way, If I behold not her afar: And yet I know not when that day Shall rise--for still she dwells afar.

G.o.d! who hast formed this fair array Of worlds, and placed my love afar, Strengthen my heart with hope, I pray, Of seeing her I love afar.

"Oh Lord I believe my faithful lay, For well I love her, though afar; Though but one blessing may repay The thousand griefs I feel afar, No other love shall shed its ray On me, if not this love afar; A brighter one, where'er I stray I shall not see, or near, or far."

In Mr. Browning's poem, Rudel chooses for his device a sun flower, which, by ever turning towards the sun, has parted with the graces of a flower to become a mimic sun. He says that men feed on his songs; but the sunflower's concern is not for the bees which gather the sweetness of the flower's breast,--its concern is solely for the sun. So turns Rudel longingly to the East, where his lady dwells afar.

=St. John.= (_A Death in the Desert._) The poem is a monologue of the dying saint in the desert near Ephesus. He records what he has seen of our Lord, and sadly antic.i.p.ates the time when men will ask, "Did he say he saw?"

=St. Martin's Summer.= (_Pacchiarotto, with Other Poems_, 1876.) A husband and wife, both young, are reflecting on the fact that they have each buried love under some tomb now moss-grown and forgotten. The man admits that somehow, somewhere, he has pledged his "soul to endless duty, many a time and oft." Grief is fickle, for time is a traitor. Love, being mortal, must pa.s.s away, and he does not think either of them so very guilty; they grieved over their lost love at the time, though now it is forgotten. Yet, though Love's corpse lies quiet, its ghost sometimes escapes, and it is not well to build too durable a monument over it; trellis-work is better.

It is better to own the power of first love, recognise its permanence in the soul, and let the succeeding love be estimated at its value, which to the poet does not seem to be very high. Dead loves are the potent, though living loves are ghost dispellers. From the oft-repeated expressions of Mr. Browning's opinion, and from the drift of this poem, we might be warranted in concluding that he believed only in first love.

NOTES.--_St. Martin's Summer_; or, _St. Martin's Little Summer_. From October 9th to November 11th. At the close of autumn we generally have a month of magnificent summer weather. "Expect St. Martin's summer, halcyon days" (_Shakespeare_, _I Hen. VI._, Act i., sc. 2), and, "Farewell thou latter spring! farewell All-hallown summer!" It is also called "St. Luke's Summer," and Martinmas, and Martilma.s.se, because the feast of St. Martin is kept on November 11th. St. Luke's Day is October 18th. Verse 12, _Penelope_ was the wife of Ulysses. During the long absence of her husband she was several times importuned by suitors to marry them. She told them that she could not marry again, even if she were a.s.sured that Ulysses were dead, until she had finished weaving a shroud for her aged father-in-law.

Every night she pulled out what she had woven during the day, and so her work made no progress. _Ulysses_: is a corrupt form of Odusseus, the king of Ithaca. He is one of the princ.i.p.al heroes in the Iliad of Homer, and the chief hero of the Odyssey.

=St. Peter's at Rome.= (_Christmas Eve._) The great colonnade on either side of St. Peter's Square is of semicircular form, and is beautifully described by the poet as

"Arms wide open to embrace The entry of the human race."

=Saul.= This is perhaps the grandest and most beautiful of all Mr.

Browning's religious poems. It is a Messianic oratorio in words. The influence of music in the cure of diseases has long been a subject of study by physicians. Disraeli, in his _Curiosities of Literature_, has an article on "Medical Music." In Dr. Burney's _History of Music_ there is a chapter on "The Medicinal Powers attributed to Music by the Ancients." Dr.

Burney thought this influence was partly due to its occasioning certain vibrations of the nerves, as well as its well-known effect in diverting the attention. Depression of mind, delirium and insanity, were anciently attributed to evil spirits, which were put to flight by suitable harmonies. It was for this reason that David was sent for to cure the mental derangement of Saul. The influence of music on the lower animals is often exceedingly marked, and can scarcely in their case, as in our own, be due to the a.s.sociation of ideas. The peculiar and sweet melancholy inspired by distant church bells on a calm summer evening in the country, though difficult to account for, is not less real than is the inspiring and invigorating effect produced by march music on weary soldiers. Life is a harmonious process; where there is most health there is most harmony in the way in which the bodily functions are performed. A great physician has described health as "going easy." It would be strange, therefore, if animal life were not attuned to sympathy with mechanical harmony. The most modern theory is that "Music is one of the stimuli which regulates the vaso-motor activity employed in tissue nutrition." (See _Lancet_, May 9th, 1891, p. 1055.) In another article in the same journal, for May 23rd, the subject is still further treated. The writer says: "The value of music as a therapeutic method cannot yet be so precisely stated that we may measure it by dosage or by an invariably similar order of effects. Of its wholesome influence in various forms of disease, however, there can be little or no doubt. In making this a.s.sertion we do not, of course, a.s.sign to it any specific or peculiar action. It is no quack's nostrum, no reputed conqueror of ache or ailment. It is only, as we have already shown in a recent article, one of those intangible but effective aids of medicine which exert their healthful properties through the nervous system. It is as a mental tonic that music acts. Accordingly, we may naturally expect it to exert its powers chiefly in those diseases, or aspects of disease, which are due to morbid nervous action. The evidence of its utility on occasions where fatigue or worry has disturbed the proper balance and relation between the mind and body of the so-called healthy will explain its action in disease. We can readily understand how a pleasing and lively melody can awake in a jaded brain the strong emotion of hope, and energising by its means the languid nerve-control of the whole circulation, strengthen the heart-beat and refresh the vascularity of every organ. We can picture the same brain in forced irritation fretfully stimulating the service of the vaso-motor nerves, and starving the tissues of their blood-supply. Here, again, it is easy to comprehend the regulating effect of quieter harmony, which brings at once a rest and a diversion to the fretting mind. Even aches are soothed for a time by a transference of attention; and why, then, should not pain be lulled by music?" That it sometimes is thus relieved, we cannot doubt. It is especially in the graver nervous maladies, however, that we should look for benefit from this remedy. Definite statistics on the subject may not be forthcoming, but all that we have said goes to show that states of insanity, which are largely influenced by the condition of the sympathetic system, should find some part of their treatment in the hands of the musician. It is, therefore, for such cases especially that we would enlist his services. In nervous diseases music produces a stimulating effect on the trophic nerves, these are so called because they are supposed to govern or control the normal metabolism of their tissues (or the phenomena whereby living organisms a.s.similate their food into their tissues).

Depressing news will impede or even arrest digestion, as is well known; cheerful conversation and music a.s.sist the a.s.similation of our sustenance.

The almost total ignorance of the ancients concerning physiological processes caused them to attribute to demons the maladies which they could not comprehend. Music was prescribed for Saul empirically: it mattered little to the patient, so long as he was cured, whether music expelled a demon who was tormenting him, or lubricated the wheels of his nervous mechanism. David took his harp to Saul's tent, untwisted the lilies which were twined round the strings to keep them cool, and began by playing the tune all the sheep knew, appealing to his mere animal nature, and bringing him into harmony with the lower forms of healthy life; for there are points in our lives touched alike by men and sheep. Then he played the tune which the quails love, and that which delights the crickets, and the music which appeals to the quick jerboa; for there is a bond of sympathy between these creatures of our Father's hand and ourselves which we do ill to overlook; it is well for us sometimes to allow ourselves to be influenced by those things which G.o.d has made to delight the beautiful dumb creatures whom St. Francis of a.s.sisi delighted to call his brothers and sisters. It was another step towards Saul's recovery when his soul achieved the harmony of a quail and a jerboa. Then he advanced his theme: he led the patient by his melody to the help tune of the reapers; brought before his saddened soul the good friends.h.i.+p of the toilers at their merry-making; expanded his heart in the warmth of brotherliness, the sympathy of man with man. But higher yet! The march of the honoured dead is played,--the praise of the men who have forgotten the faults in the work the man completed. And after that the joyful marriage chant, the abounding life and cheerfulness of the maidens; the march, too, of the comrades.h.i.+p of man in his greater task, the compulsion of the mechanical forces to aid the progress of the race. More exalted strains follow when, in the spirit of the wors.h.i.+p of the one G.o.d of Israel, the Levites ascend the altar steps to appease Jehovah in sacrifice. By slow degrees the music had done the first part of its work: the sluggish forces of his life began to tremble, the quiverings of returning vital force began to thrill his torpid nerves. The song went forward: the wild joys of living were celebrated, the value of man's life, the good providence of G.o.d, the friends.h.i.+p, the kings.h.i.+p, the gifts combined to dower one head with the wealth of the world,--the stimulus of high ambition, the surpa.s.sing deeds, the crowning fame all concentrated in Saul, king of Israel. And the leap of David's heart voicing itself in the cry "Saul!" went to his wintry soul as "spring's arrowy summons to the vale, making it laugh in freedom and flowers." Saul was "released and aware," the despair was gone; pale and worn, he stood by the tent pole, once more himself; he was recalled to life, but not yet fitted to enjoy it. David pushes his advantage: the future, with its glorious prospect, the reward which G.o.d shall give to the successors of the king; and as David sings of the ages to come, which will ring with his praises and the fame of his mighty deeds, the life stream courses through his veins, he begins to live once more, he puts out his hand, touches tenderly the brow of the harpist, and as he looks on David the beautiful soul of the youthful singer goes out to the king in love, the magnetism of his sympathy touches him, and he longs to impart to him more than the past and present; he would give him new life altogether ages hence as at the moment. If he would do this, how much more would G.o.d do!

"Have I knowledge? confounded it shrivels at Wisdom laid bare.

Have I forethought? how purblind, how blank, to the Infinite Care!"

If he would fain do so much for this suffering man, would save, redeem and restore him, interpose to s.n.a.t.c.h Saul the mistake, the failure, from ruin, and bid him win by the pain-throb, the intensified bliss of the next world's reward and repose, if he would starve his own soul to fill up Saul's life, surely G.o.d would exceed all that David could desire to do, as the Creator in everything surpa.s.ses the creature, and as the Infinite transcends the finite. Then, in a magnificent prophetic burst, the singer tells Saul:

"O Saul, it shall be A Face like my face that receives thee; a Man like to me, Thou shalt love and be loved by, for ever; a Hand like this hand Shall throw open the gates of new life to thee! See the Christ stand!"