"Twice the muzzle touched my forehead. Heavy barrel, flurried wrist, Either spoils a steady lifting. Thrice: then, "Laugh at h.e.l.l who list, I can"t! G.o.d"s no fable either. Did this boy"s eye wink once? No!
There"s no standing him and h.e.l.l and G.o.d all three against me,--so, I did cheat!"
"And down he threw the pistol, out rushed--by the door Possibly, but, as for knowledge if by chimney, roof or floor, He effected disappearance--I"ll engage no glance was sent That way by a single starer, such a blank astonishment Swallowed up their senses: as for speaking--mute they stood as mice.
"Mute not long, though! Such reaction, such a hubbub in a trice!
"Rogue and rascal! Who"d have thought it? What"s to be expected next, When His Majesty"s Commission serves a sharper as pretext For.... But where"s the need of wasting time now? Nought requires delay: Punishment the Service cries for: let disgrace be wiped away Publicly, in good broad daylight! Resignation? No, indeed Drum and fife must play the Rogue"s March, rank and file be free to speed Tardy marching on the rogue"s part by appliance in the rear --Kicks administered shall right this wronged civilian,--never fear, Mister Clive, for--though a clerk--you bore yourself--suppose we say-- Just as would beseem a soldier!"
""Gentlemen, attention--pray!
First, one word!"
"I pa.s.sed each speaker severally in review.
When I had precise their number, names and styles, and fully knew Over whom my supervision thenceforth must extend,--why, then----
""Some five minutes since, my life lay--as you all saw, gentlemen-- At the mercy of your friend there. Not a single voice was raised In arrest of judgment, not one tongue--before my powder blazed-- Ventured "Can it be the youngster blundered, really seemed to mark Some irregular proceeding? We conjecture in the dark, Guess at random,--still, for sake of fair play--what if for a freak, In a fit of absence,--such things have been!--if our friend proved weak --What"s the phrase?--corrected fortune! Look into the case, at least!"
Who dared interpose between the altar"s victim and the priest?
Yet he spared me! You eleven! Whosoever, all or each, To the disadvantage of the man who spared me, utters speech --To his face, behind his back,--that speaker has to do with me: Me who promise, if positions change and mine the chance should be, Not to imitate your friend and waive advantage!"
"Twenty-five Years ago this matter happened: and "tis certain," added Clive, "Never, to my knowledge, did Sir c.o.c.ky have a single breath Breathed against him: lips were closed throughout his life, or since his death, For if he be dead or living I can tell no more than you.
All I know is--c.o.c.ky had one chance more; how he used it,--grew Out of such unlucky habits, or relapsed, and back again Brought the late-ejected devil with a score more in his train,-- That"s for you to judge. Reprieval I procured, at any rate.
Ugh--the memory of that minute"s fear makes gooseflesh rise! Why prate Longer? You"ve my story, there"s your instance: fear I did, you see!"
"Well"--I hardly kept from laughing--"if I see it, thanks must be Wholly to your Lordship"s candor. Not that--in a common case-- When a bully caught at cheating thrusts a pistol in one"s face, I should underrate, believe me, such a trial to the nerve!
"Tis no joke, at one-and-twenty, for a youth to stand nor swerve.
Fear I naturally look for--unless, of all men alive, I am forced to make exception when I come to Robert Clive.
Since at Arcot, Pla.s.sy, elsewhere, he and death--the whole world knows-- Came to somewhat closer quarters."
Quarters? Had we come to blows, Clive and I, you had not wondered--up he sprang so, out he rapped Such a round of oaths--no matter! I"ll endeavor to adapt To our modern usage words he--well, "twas friendly license--flung At me like so many fire-b.a.l.l.s, fast as he could wag his tongue.
"You--a soldier? You--at Pla.s.sy? Yours the faculty to nick Instantaneously occasion when your foe, if lightning-quick, --At his mercy, at his malice,--has you, through some stupid inch Undefended in your bulwark? Thus laid open,--not to flinch --That needs courage, you"ll concede me. Then, look here! Suppose the man, Checking his advance, his weapon still extended, not a span Distant from my temple,--curse him!--quietly had bade me "There!
Keep your life, calumniator!--worthless life I freely spare: Mine you freely would have taken--murdered me and my good fame Both at once--and all the better! Go, and thank your own bad aim Which permits me to forgive you!" What if, with such words as these, He had cast away his weapon? How should I have borne me, please?
Nay, I"ll spare you pains and tell you. This, and only this, remained-- Pick his weapon up and use it on myself. I so had gained Sleep the earlier, leaving England probably to pay on still Rent and taxes for half India, tenant at the Frenchman"s will."
"Such the turn," said I, "the matter takes with you? Then I abate --No, by not one jot nor t.i.ttle,--of your act my estimate.
Fear--I wish I could detect there: courage fronts me, plain enough-- Call it desperation, madness--never mind! for here"s in rough Why, had mine been such a trial, fear had overcome disgrace.
True, disgrace were hard to bear: but such a rush against G.o.d"s face --None of that for me, Lord Pla.s.sy, since I go to church at times, Say the creed my mother taught me! Many years in foreign climes Rub some marks away--not all, though! We poor sinners reach life"s brink, Overlook what rolls beneath it, recklessly enough, but think There"s advantage in what"s left us--ground to stand on, time to call "Lord, have mercy!" ere we topple over--do not leap, that"s all!"
Oh, he made no answer,--re-absorbed into his cloud. I caught Something like "Yes--courage: only fools will call it fear."
If aught Comfort you, my great unhappy hero Clive, in that I heard, Next week, how your own hand dealt you doom, and uttered just the word "Fearfully courageous!"--this, be sure, and nothing else I groaned.
I"m no Clive, nor parson either: Clive"s worst deed--we"ll hope condoned.
CHAPTER IV
SOCIAL ASPECTS OF ENGLISH LIFE
Browning"s poetry presents no such complete panorama of phases of social life in England as it does of those in Italy, perhaps, because there is a poise and solidity about the English character which does not lend itself to so great a variety of mood as one may find in the peculiarly artistic temperament of the Italians, especially those of the Renaissance period. Even such irregular proceedings as murders have their philosophical after-claps which show their usefulness in the divine scheme of things, while unfortunate love affairs work such beneficent results in character that they are shorn of much of their tragedy of sorrow. There is quite a group of love-lyrics with no definite setting that might be put down as English in temper. It does not require much imagination to think of the lover who sings so lofty a strain in "One Way of Love" as English:--
I
All June I bound the rose in sheaves.
Now, rose by rose, I strip the leaves And strew them where Pauline may pa.s.s.
She will not turn aside? Alas!
Let them lie. Suppose they die?
The chance was they might take her eye.
II
How many a month I strove to suit These stubborn fingers to the lute!
To-day I venture all I know.
She will not hear my music? So!
Break the string; fold music"s wing: Suppose Pauline had bade me sing!
III
My whole life long I learned to love.
This hour my utmost art I prove And speak my pa.s.sion--heaven or h.e.l.l?
She will not give me heaven? "Tis well!
Lose who may--I still can say, Those who win heaven, blest are they!
And is not this treatment of a "pretty woman" more English than not?
A PRETTY WOMAN
I
That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers, And the blue eye Dear and dewy, And that infantine fresh air of hers!
II
To think men cannot take you, Sweet, And enfold you, Ay, and hold you, And so keep you what they make you, Sweet!
III
You like us for a glance, you know-- For a word"s sake Or a sword"s sake, All"s the same, whate"er the chance, you know.
IV
And in turn we make you ours, we say-- You and youth too, Eyes and mouth too, All the face composed of flowers, we say.
V
All"s our own, to make the most of, Sweet-- Sing and say for, Watch and pray for, Keep a secret or go boast of, Sweet!
VI