This Luria, our inevitable foe,
Confessed a mercenary and a Moor,
Born free from any 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 fell?
Upon that broad Man's heart of his, I go! On what I know must be, yet while I live Will never be, because I live and know! Brute-force shall not rule Florence! 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 comes 't was Intellect that ruled, Not Brute-force bringing from the battle-field The attributes of wisdom, foresight's graces We lent it there to lure 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 frightened nobody)
Perk in our faces in the street, forsooth,
With our own warrant and allowance. The whole procedure 's overcharged,
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! The Moorish front ill suits our Duomo's body Blot it out and bid Luria's sentence come!"
We must next give a glimpse of the character of Luria himself.
"Lur. I wonder, do you guess why I delay Involuntarily the final blow
As long as possible? Peace follows it!
Florence at peace, and the calm studious heads Come out again, the penetrating eyes; As if a spell broke, all 's resumed, each art You boast, more vivid that it slept awhile! 'Gainst the glad heaven, o'er the white palace-front The interrupted scaffold climbs anew;
Nor age's wisdom in its turn find strength, But silently the first gift dies away,
And tho' the new stays never both at once! Life's time of savage instinct 's 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 tells 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, That as they know my deeds they deal with me. Yes, that is better. . that is best of all! Such faith stays when the wild belief would go ! Yes when the desert creature's heart, at fault Amid the scattering tempest and its sands, Betrays its steps 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 subsides, The boundaries, lost now, shall be found again, - The palm-trees and the pyramid over all! Yes: I trust Florence
Luria puts the letter in his bosom, and keeps it unopened. He, however, demands an explanation of Braccio, who thinks a bold confession the best move to make. Domizia, who is present, imagines her end secure. We copy a part of Braccio speaks.
"But Florence is no simple John or James To have his toy, his fancy, his conceit, That he's the one excepted man by fate,
And, when fate shows him he's mistaken there, Die with all good men's praise, and yield his place To Paul and George intent to try their chance: Florence exists because these pass away; She's a contrivance to supply a type Of Man which men's deficiencies refuse;
She binds so many, she grows out of them
Stands steady o'er their numbers, tho' they change
And pass away. . there's always what upholds, Always enough to fashion the great show! As, see, yon hanging city in the sun
Of shapely cloud substantially the same! A thousand vapors rise and sink again, Are interfused, and live their life and die, Yet ever hangs the steady show i' the air Under the sun's straight influence: that is well! That is worth Heaven to hold, and God to bless! And so is Florence, the unseen sun above, That draws and holds suspended all of us — Binds transient mists and vapors into one Differing from each and better than they all. And shall she dare to stake this permanence On any one man's faith? Man's heart is weak, And its temptations many: let her prove
Each servant to the very uttermost
Before she grant him her reward, I say!
"Dom. And as for hearts she chances to mistake, That are not destined to receive reward,
What should she do for these?
Say that she gives them but herself to serve! Here's Luria-what had profited his strength, When half an hour of sober fancying Had shown him step by step the uselessness Of strength exerted for its proper sake? But the truth is she did create that strength, Drew to the end the corresponding means. The world is wide. . are we the only men? Oh, for the time, the social purpose' sake, Use words agreed on, bandy epithets, Call any man, sole Great and Wise and Good! But shall we, therefore, standing by ourselves, Insult our souls and God with the same speech? There swarm the ignoble thousands under Him What marks us from the hundreds and the tens? Florence took up, turned all one way the soul Of Luria with its fires, and here he stands! She takes me out of all the world as him, Fixing my coldness till like ice it stays The fire! So Braccio, Luria, which is best?
"Lur. Ah, brave me? And is this indeed the way
To gain your good word and sincere esteem?
Am I the baited tiger that must turn
And fight his baiters to deserve their praise? Obedience has no fruit then? Be it so!
Do you indeed remember I stand here
Nor age's wisdom in its turn find strength, But silently the first gift dies away,
And tho' the new stays never both at once! Life's time of savage instinct's 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 tells nothing, Domizia's eyes reject the searcher . . yes . . For on their calm sagacity I lean,
Their sense of right, deliberate choice of good, That as they know my deeds they deal with me. Yes, that is better. . that is best of all! Such faith stays when the wild belief would go! Yes when the desert creature's heart, at fault Amid the scattering tempest and its sands, Betrays its steps 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 subsides, The boundaries, lost now, shall be found again, — The palm-trees and the pyramid over all! Yes I trust Florence Pisa is deceived."
Luria puts the letter in his bosom, and keeps it unopened. He, however, demands an explanation of Braccio, who thinks a bold confession the best move to make. Domizia, who is present, imagines her end secure. We copy a part of this scene. Braccio speaks.
"But Florence is no simple John or James To have his toy, his fancy, his conceit, That he's the one excepted man by fate,
And, when fate shows him he's mistaken there, Die with all good men's praise, and yield his place To Paul and George intent to try their chance: Florence exists because these pass away; She's a contrivance to supply a type Of Man which men's deficiencies refuse;
She binds so many, she grows out of them
Stands steady o'er their numbers, tho' they change
And pass away . . there's always what upholds, Always enough to fashion the great show! As, see, yon hanging city in the sun
Of shapely cloud substantially the same! A thousand vapors rise and sink again, Are interfused, and live their life and die, - Yet ever hangs the steady show i' the air Under the sun's straight influence: that is well! That is worth Heaven to hold, and God to bless! And so is Florence, the unseen sun above,
That draws and holds suspended all of us Binds transient mists and vapors into one Differing from each and better than they all. And shall she dare to stake this permanence On any one man's faith? Man's heart is weak,
And its temptations mány: let her prove Each servant to the very uttermost
Before she grant him her reward, I say!
"Dom. And as for hearts she chances to mistake,
That are not destined to receive reward,
What should she do for these?
Say that she gives them but herself to serve! Here's Luria- what had profited his strength, When half an hour of sober fancying Had shown him step by step the uselessness Of strength exerted for its proper sake? But the truth is she did create that strength, Drew to the end the corresponding means. The world is wide. . are we the only men? Oh, for the time, the social purpose' sake, Use words agreed on, bandy epithets, Call any man, sole Great and Wise and Good! But shall we, therefore, standing by ourselves, Insult our souls and God with the same speech? There swarm the ignoble thousands under Him What marks us from the hundreds and the tens? Florence took up, turned all one way the soul Of Luria with its fires, and here he stands! She takes me out of all the world as him, Fixing my coldness till like ice it stays
The fire! So Braccio, Luria, which is best?
“ Lur. Ah, brave me ? And is this indeed the way To gain your good word and sincere esteem ? Am I the baited tiger that must turn
And fight his baiters to deserve their praise? Obedience has no fruit then? Be it so ! you indeed remember I stand here
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