Edward Berdoe
The Browning Cyclopædia: A Guide to the Study of the Works of Robert Browning
Notes. – Verse 2, Petrus ipse, Peter the very same. v. 9, True moly: “A fabulous herb of secret power, having a black root and white blossoms, said by Homer to have been given by Mercury to Ulysses, as a counter-charm against the spells of Circe” (Webster’s Dict.). v. 10, “Mark within my eye its iris mystic-lettered”: Letters of the alphabet have been seen marked on the human eye as figures on a dial. Mr. Browning said, “that there was an old superstition that, if you look into the iris of a man’s eye, you see the letters of his name or the word telling his fate.” (See Echo, 23rd March, 1896.) v. 14, “Petri en pulmones,” Behold, the lungs of Peter! v. 15, “Ipse dixi,” I have said. v. 16, Hans of Halberstadt: a canon of Halberstadt, in Germany, who was a magician who rode upon a devil in the shape of a black horse, and who performed the most incredible feats. (See Browning’s poem Transcendentalism.) v. 19, “De corde natus haud de mente,” born of heart, not of mind. Bene: the first syllables of Benedicite; here the charm begins to work. v. 23, Plato on “the Fair and Good”: Emerson, in his essay on Plato, says: Plato taught this as “the cause which led the Supreme Ordainer to produce and compose the universe. He was good; and he who is good has no kind of envy. Exempt from envy, He wished that all things should be as much as possible like Himself. Whosoever, taught by wise men, shall admit this as the prime cause of the origin and foundation of the world, will be in the truth. All things are for the sake of the good, and it is the cause of everything beautiful.” v. 26, Sylla: the debauched Roman dictator, who gave up his command and retired to a solitary retreat at Puteoli. v. 27, “Hag Jezebel and her paint and powder”: Jezebel, the wife of Ahab, who “painted her face and tired her head, and looked out at a window” (2 Kings ix. 30). Jam satis, already, enough! v. 33, “Tantalus’s treasure”: Tantalus was tortured in hell by having food and drink apparently always within his reach, but always eluding his grasp. v. 37, “Per Bacco”: by Bacchus, – an Italian oath. v. 38, “Salomo si nôsset,” if Solomon had but known this! “Teneor vix,” I can hardly contain myself! v. 39, hactenus, up to this time. “Nec ultra plus!” nothing further. Spelter, zinc. Peason, peas. v. 43, “Pou sto,” where I may stand. Archimedes said he could move the world if he had a place to stand on. v. 46, Lateran: the church of St. John Lateran, in Rome; “the mother and head of all the city and the world,” as it is called, was the principal church of Rome after the time of Constantine. Five important councils have been held here. Adjoining it is the Lateran Palace. “Gained the purple”: i. e., the cardinalate, from the scarlet hat, stockings, and cassock worn by cardinals. “Bribed the Conclave”: the meeting of the members of the Sacred College of Cardinals for the election of a pope is called a conclave. “Saw my coop ope”: the cardinals go into conclave on the tenth day after the death of the Pope, attended usually by only one person. No access to the conclave is permitted. An opening is left for food to be passed in. The voting must all be done in this assembly. Each cardinal has a boarded cell in the Vatican assigned him by lot. Voting is carried on till some cardinal is found who has the requisite majority of two-thirds of those who are present. v. 47, Tithon: a son of Laomedon, king of Troy. He was so beautiful that Aurora fell in love with him and carried him away. He begged her to make him immortal, and the goddess granted the favour. As he forgot to ask her also to preserve his youth, he became old and decrepid, and begged to be removed from the world. As he could not die, she changed him into a grasshopper. v. 48, “Conciliator Differentiarum,” conciliator of differences. “De Speciebus Ceremonialis Magiæ”: concerning the kinds of the ceremonial of magic. “The Fisher’s ring, or foot that boasts the Cross”: one of the titles of the Pope is “the Fisherman,” after St. Peter. His signet is the ring of the Fisherman; the cross is worked on his slipper. v. 49, “Apage, Sathanas!” begone Satan! “Dicam verbum Salomonis,” I command it in the name of Solomon. Peculiar significance is attached by mystical writers to this word Sol-Om-On (the name of the sun in three languages). Dicite: the closing syllables of “benedicite,” so that the visions had all taken place between bene– and —dicite. v. 50, Benedicite! a word of good omen, a blessing. “Idmen, idmen!” we know, we know! v. 51, Scientiæ Compendium, compendium of science. “Admirationem incutit”: it inspires admiration. Antipope: an opposition pope, of which there have been several examples in history; they were usurpers of the popedom. v. 53, Tiberius Cæsar (born 42 B.C., died 37 A.D.): Emperor of Rome. When at Padua he consulted the oracle of Geryon, he drew a lot by which he was required to throw golden tali into the fountain of Aponus for an answer to his questions; he did so, and the highest numbers came up. The fountain is situated in the Euganean hills, near Padua. Oracle of Geryon: Geryon was a mythical king in Spain who had three bodies, or three heads. Suetonius Tranquilius: author of the biographies of the first twelve Roman emperors. v. 54, Venus: the highest throw with the four tali, or three tesseræ. The best cast of the tali (or foursided dice) was four different numbers; but the best cast of the tesseræ (or ordinary dice) was three sixes. The worst throw was called canis– three aces in tesseræ, and four aces in tali. (Brewer’s Handbook.)
Pillar at Sebzevah, A. (Ferishtah’s Fancies, II. Key-note: “Love is better than knowledge.”) Sage and pupil argue as to which is the better, knowledge or love. The sage says that love far outweighs knowledge; it is objected that an ass loves food, and perhaps the hand that feeds it – why depose knowledge in favour of love? Ferishtah says that all his knowledge only suffices to enable him to say that he loves boundlessly, endlessly. He had knowledge when a youth, but better knowledge came as he grew older, and pushed it aside; it has been so ever since – the gain of to-day is the loss of to-morrow. It is, in fact, no gain at all: knowledge is not golden, it is but lacquered ignorance. It has a prize: the process of acquiring knowledge is the only reward. But love is victory. In love we are sure to succeed, – there is no delusion there. A child grasps an orange, though he fails to grasp the sun he strives to reach; he may find his orange not worth holding, but the joy was in the shape and colour, and these were better for him than the sun, which would have only burned his fingers. If we can say we are loved in return for the love we bestow, this is to hold a good juicy orange, which is better than seeking to know the mystery of all created things: if we succeeded, it would only be to our own hurt, as the sun would have scorched the child who cried for it. There was a pillar in Sebzevah with a sun-dial fixed upon it. Suppose the townsmen had refused to make use of the dial till they knew the history of the man and his object in erecting the pillar? Better far to go to dinner when the dial says “Noon,” and ask no questions. If we love, we know enough. Suppose in crossing the desert we are thirsty, we stoop down and scoop up the sand, and water rises: what need have we to dig down fifty fathoms to find the spring? The best thing we can do is to quench our thirst with the water which is before us: we do not, under the circumstances, require a cisternful. There is one unlovable thing, and that is hate. If out of the sand we get nothing but sand, let us not pretend to be finding water; let us not nickname pain as pleasure. If knowledge were all our faculty, God must be ignored; but love gains God at first leap. The lyric bids us not ask recognition for our love: the deepest affection is the most silent. Words are a poor substitute for the silence of a long gaze and the touch which reveals the soul.
Notes. —Mushtari, the planet Jupiter (Persian). Hudhud: fabulous bird of Solomon, according to Eastern legend: the lapwing, a well-known bird in Asia. Sitara: Persian for a star.
Pippa Passes: A Drama. (Bells and Pomegranates, No. I., 1841.) Pippa is the name of a girl employed at the silk mills at Asolo, in the Trevisan, in Northern Italy. In the whole year she has but one holiday: it is New Year’s day, and she determines to make the most of it. She springs out of bed as day is breaking, mapping out as she dresses herself what she will do with Morning, Noon, Evening, and Night. She thinks of the four persons whose lot is most to be envied in the little town, and will imagine herself each of these in turn. But she claims that the day will be fine and not ill-use her. There is the great, haughty Ottima, whose husband, old Luca, sleeps in his mansion while his wife makes love; her lover Sebald will be just as devoted, however the rain may beat on the home. Jules, the sculptor, will wed his Phene to-day: nothing can disturb their happiness, their sunbeams are in their own breasts. Evening may be misty, but Luigi and his lady mother will not heed it. Monsignor will be here from Rome to visit his brother’s house: no storm will disturb his holy peace. But for Pippa, the silkwinder, a wet day would darken her whole next year. So her morning fancy starts her as Ottima: all the gardens and the great storehouse are hers. But this is not the kind of love she envies; there’s better love, she knows. Her next choice shall give no cause for the scoffer – wedded love, like that of Jules and Phene, for example. But still improvement can be made even upon that: it is, after all, but new love; hers should have lapped her round from the beginning: “only parents’ love can last our lives.” She will be Luigi, communing with his mother in the turret. But if we come to that, God’s love is better even than that of Monsignor the holy and beloved priest, for to-night Pippa will in fancy have her dwelling in the palace by the Dome. – I. Morning. Ottima is with her paramour, the German Sebald, in the shrub-house. They have murdered Luca, and are talking calmly of their sin, and contrasting their present freedom with the restraint of last New Year’s day. Ottima’s husband can no longer fondle her before her lover’s face. But there is the corpse to remove, and as Sebald reflects, he begins to regret his treachery to the man who fed and sheltered him. Ottima tells him she loves him better for the crime. They caress each other, and as Sebald fondles Ottima the voice of Pippa singing as she passes is heard from without: “God’s in His heaven.” Sebald starts, conscience-stricken; Ottima says it is only “that ragged little girl!” At once Sebald is disenchanted; he sees the woman in all the naked horror of her crimes; all her grace and beauty are gone; he hates and curses her. The woman takes the guilt all upon her own head, and prays for him, not for herself: forgetting self, she thinks only of Sebald. “Not me – to him, O God, be merciful!” To her guilty soul also comes the reflection, “God’s in His heaven.” In self-sacrifice begins her redemption. Pippa has converted both. While Pippa is passing to Orcana, some students from Venice are discussing a jest they have played off on Jules. They have, by means of sham letters which they have concocted between them and sent him as coming from the girl he loves, induced him to believe she was a cultivated woman, and he has been deceived into marrying her. – II. Noon. When the ceremony is over the truth is told him. He gives his bride gold, and is preparing to separate from her, when Pippa passes, singing “Give her but a least excuse to love me!” Jules reasons, Here is a woman with utter need of him. She has an awakening moral sense, a soul like his own sculptured Psyche, waiting his word to make it bright with life – he will evoke this woman’s soul in some isle in far-off seas! He forgives her. Pippa’s song has worked the reconciliation. – III. Evening. Luigi and his mother are conversing in the turret on the hill above Asolo. Luigi is what has been termed a “patriot”; he is suspected of belonging to the secret society of the Carbonari, and is at the moment actually discussing with his mother a plot to kill the Emperor of Austria. His mother tells him that half the ills of Italy are feigned, that patriotism seems the easiest virtue for a selfish man to acquire. She urges him to delay his journey to Vienna till the morning. Endeavouring to dissuade him thus, he is on the point of yielding, when Pippa passes, singing “No need the king should ever die!” “Not that sort of king,” says Luigi. “Such grace had kings when the world began!” continues the passing Pippa. Luigi says, “It is God’s voice calls,” and he goes away. He thereby escapes the police, who had just arranged that if he remained at the turret over the night, he was to be arrested at once. Pippa goes on from the turret to the Bishop’s brother’s home, near the Cathedral. – IV. Night. And here we are shown how little we poor puppets know of the strings which prompt our movements. Pippa would be Ottima, the murderess; and as she, the poor but good and happy silkwinder, trudges on her way to make the holiday of the year, the voluptuous murderess is purifying her wicked soul in agony. She sings in the lightness of her heart, and a line of her morning hymn is the arrow of God to two sinful souls. She would be the bride of Jules – the bride who has just been detected in fraud, on the point of rejection, and who has been redeemed by the snatch of Pippa’s innocent monition. She would be the happy Luigi, who would have failed in a purpose he deemed to be a noble one, and would have been a prisoner in the hands of the Austrian police if he had not been nerved by her careless eulogy of good kings. And now, as she approaches her ideally perfect persons, the holy Monsignor is actually engaged in taking steps for her ruin. His superintendent is explaining a plan he has elaborated for getting rid of Pippa, who is the child of his brother, and to whom the property he is holding rightfully belongs. The superintendent has found an English scoundrel named Bluphocks, residing in the locality, who will entrap the girl and take her to Rome to lead a vicious life, which will kill her in a few years. The bishop is listening to the tempter, when Pippa passes, singing one of her innocent little songs, ending with the line —
“Suddenly God took me.”
This awakens the conscience of the ecclesiastic, who calls his servants to arrest the villain. All unconscious, as night falls Pippa re-enters her chamber. She has been in fancy the holy Monsignor, Luigi’s gentle mother, Luigi himself, Jules the sculptor’s bride, and Ottima as well. Tired of fooling, she notices that the sun has dropped into a black cloud, and as night comes on she wonders how nearly she has approached these people of her fancy, to do them good or evil in some slight way; and as she falls asleep she murmurs —
“All service ranks the same with God —
With God, whose puppets, best and worst,
Are we: there is no last nor first.”
The drama shows us how near God is to us in conscience. “God stands apart,” as the poet says, “to give man room to work”; but in every great crisis of our life, if we listen we may hear Him warning, threatening, guiding, revealing. Not near to answer problems of existence, or to solve the mystery of life: this would interfere with our development of soul; but near to save us from the dangers that await us at every step. The drama shows us, too, our mutual interdependence. Pippa, the silk-girl, had a mission to convert Ottima, Sebald, Jules, and the Bishop. We look for great things to work for us: it is ever the unseen, unfelt influences which are the most potent. We are taught, also, that there is nothing we do or say but may be big with good or evil consequences to many of our fellows of whom we know nothing. People whom we have never seen, of whose very existence we are ignorant, are affected for good or evil eternally by our lightest words and our most thoughtless actions.
Notes. – For an account of Asolo see p. 49 of this work. Silk in large quantities is manufactured in this part of Italy. There is no historical foundation for any of the incidents of the poem. The song in Part II., which Jules and Phene hear, relates, however, to Caterina Carnaro, the exiled Queen of Cyprus. Possagno: an obscure village situated amongst the hills of Asolo, famous as the birthplace of Canova, the sculptor. Cicala: a grasshopper. – I. Morning. “The Capuchin with his brown hood”: the Capuchin monks are familiar to all travellers in Italy. They are a branch of the great Franciscan Order. The habit is brown. The Order was established by St. Francis in the thirteenth century. “Cappuccino” means playfully “little hooded fellow.” “Campanula chalice”: the bell of a flower, as of a Canterbury-bell. “Bluphocks”: the name means “Blue Fox,” and is a skit on the Edinburgh Review, which is bound in a cover of blue and fox. “Et canibus nostris,” even to our dogs. Canova, Antonio (1757-1822), one of the greatest sculptors of modern times. He was born at Passagno, near Asolo, the scene of Pippa’s drama. “Psiche-fanciulla”: Psyche as a young girl with a butterfly, the personification of man’s immaterial part. This sculpture is considered as the most faultless and classical of Canova’s works. Pietà: sculpture representing the Virgin Mary holding the dead body of Christ on her knees. Malamocco: “The Lagoon, immediately opposite to Venice, is closed by a long shoaly island, Malamocco” (Murray). Alciphron: lived in the age of Alexander the Great. He was a philosopher of Magnesia. Lire: the lira is an Italian coin of the value of a franc (say, tenpence). Tydeus, a son of Œneus, king of Colydon. He was one of the great heroes of the Theban war. – II. Noon. Coluthus, a native of Lycopolis, in Egypt, who wrote a poem on the rape of Helen of Troy. He lived probably about the beginning of the sixth century. Bessarion: Cardinal Bessarion discovered the poem of Coluthus in Lycopolis in the fifteenth century. Odyssey: Homer’s poem which narrates the adventures of Ulysses. Antinous: One of the suitors of Penelope during the absence of Odysseus. He attempted to seize the kingdom and was killed by Odysseus on his return. Almaign Kaiser: the German Emperor. Hippolyta: a queen of the Amazons, who was conquered by Hercules, and by him given in marriage to Theseus. Numidia: a country of North Africa, now called Algiers. Hipparchus: a son of Pisistratus, and tyrant of Athens. He was a great patron of literature. His crimes led to his assassination by a band of conspirators, the leaders of which were Harmodius and Aristogiton. Archetype: the pattern or model of a work. Dryad: a wood-nymph. Primordial, original. Cornaro: Queen of Cyprus. Venice took her kingdom from her, and compelled her to resign, assigning her a palace at Asolo. Ancona: a city of central Italy, on the shores of the Adriatic. Intendant, a superintendent. “Celarent, Darii, Ferio”: coined words used in logic. “Bishop Beveridge”: there was a bishop of that name; but this is a pun, and means beverage (drink). Zwanziger: a twenty-kreuzer piece of money. “Charon’s wherry”: Charon was a god of hell, who conducted souls across the river Styx. Lupine-seed, in plant-lore “lupine” means wolfish, and is suggestive of the Evil One. (Flower-lore, by Friend, p. 59.) Hecate, a goddess of Hell, to whom offerings were made of eggs, fish, and onions. Obolus, a silver coin of the Greeks, worth 8d. They used to put it into the mouth of the corpse as Charon’s fee. “To pay the Stygian ferry”: the river Styx, in the infernal regions, across which Charon conducted the souls, and received an obolus for his fee. Prince Metternich (1773-1859): a celebrated Austrian statesman. Panurge: a character of Rabelais’. He was a companion of Pantagruel’s. He was an impecunious rake and dodger, a boon companion and licentious coward. Hertrippa: one of Rabelais’ characters in his Gargantua and Pantagruel. Carbonari: the name of an Italian secret society which arose in 1820. Spielberg: the name of a hill near Brünn, in Moravia, on which stands the castle wherein Silvio Pellico the patriot was confined. – III. Evening. Lucius Junius Brutus, whose example animated the Romans to rise against the tyranny of the infamous Tarquin. Pellicos: Silvio Pellico was an Italian dramatist and patriot (1788-1854). He was arrested as a member of a secret society by the Austrian Government, and imprisoned for fifteen years in Spielberg Castle, near Brünn. “The Titian at Treviso”: Treviso is a town in Italy, seventeen miles from Venice. In the cathedral of San Pietro there is a fine Annunciation by Titian (1519). Python: the monster serpent slain by Apollo near Delphi. Breganze wine: of Breganza, a village north of Vicenza. – IV. Night. Benedicto benedicatur: a form of blessing. Assumption Day: the festival of the Assumption of the Virgin into Heaven. It is kept on August 15th. Correggio: one of the great Italian painters (1494-1534). Podere, a manor. Cesena: an episcopal city lying between Bologna and Ancona. Soldo, a penny. “Miserere mei, Domine,” “Have mercy on me, O God!” Brenta, a river of North Italy. Polenta, a pudding of chestnut flour, etc.
Pisgah-Sights. (Pacchiarotto volume, 1876.) 1. From a high mountain the roughness and smoothness of the distant landscape seem to blend into a harmonious picture, the uncouthness is hidden by the grace, the angles are blunted into roundness, its harshness is reconciled into a beautiful whole. If we could be taken by angelic hands and be borne a few miles beyond the surface of the earth, all her mountains would dwindle down till the rough, scarred and furrowed earth would become a perfect orb. A little nearer heaven, and a little farther away from the scene of our pilgrimage here, and evil and sorrow and pain and want will all soften down and be lost in good and joy and blessedness. We are too close to things here to get the right view of their proportions; a handbreadth off, and things which are mysteries to us now will be clear as the daylight. All will be seen as lend and borrow, good will be recognised as the brother of evil, and joy will be seen to demand sorrow for its completion. Why man’s existence must so be mixed we cannot say; the majority only begin to see the round orb of things as they near the end of their journey. 2. If we could live our life over again, would we strive any longer? Would we exercise greed and ambition, burrow for earth’s treasures, soar for the sun’s rights, or not rather be content with turf and foliage – just plain learners of life’s lessons, with no attempt to teach, with no desire to rearrange anything at all? Should we not be stationary while the march of hurrying men defiling past us, made us complacent at our post, reflecting that the only possibility of fearing, wondering at, or loving anything at all, lay in our keeping, at a respectful distance from everything which men were hurrying to seek? 3. If it be better to forget than to forgive, so is it better than living to die, to let body slumber while soul, as Indian sages tell, wanders at large, fretless and free, encumbered nevermore by body’s grossness, soul in sunshine and love, body under mosses and ferns.
Note. – V. 2, Deniers, small copper French coins of insignificant value.
Plot-Culture. (Ferishtah’s Fancies, 10: “God’s All-Seeing Eye.”) “If all we do or think or say be marked minute by minute by the Supreme, may not our very making prove offence to the Maker’s eye and ear?” Thus argued a disciple. The Dervish answers, “There is a limit-line rounding us, severing us from the immensity, cutting us from the illimitable. All of us is for the Maker; all the produce we can within the circle produce for the Master’s use is His in autumn. He wants to know nothing of the manure which fertilises the soil – of this we are masters absolute; but we must remember doomsday.” In the lyric the singer indicates the uses of Sense as distinguished from Soul. “Soul, travel-worn, toil-weary,” is not for love-making; for that let Sense quench Soul!
Poetics. (Asolando, 1889.) The singer says the foolish call their Love “My rose,” “My swan,” or they compare her to the maid-moon blessing the earth below. He will have none of this: he tells the rose there is no balm like breath; bids the swan bend its neck its best, – his love’s is the whiter curve. Let the moon be the moon, – he is not afraid to place his Love beside it. She is her human self, and no lower words will describe her.
Polyxena. (King Victor and King Charles.) The wife of King Charles: full of resolution, and instinctively sees the right thing, and does it at the appropriate moment. Her “noble and right woman’s manliness,” as Mr. Browning calls it, enables her to counteract her husband’s weakness and to clear his mental vision. Magnanimous and loyal to all, especially to herself and truth, she is one of the poet’s finest female characters.
Pompilia. (The Ring and the Book.) She was the wife of Count Guido Franceschini, and he killed her, with her foster-parents, when she escaped from his cruel treatment and fled to Rome with the good priest Caponsacchi. She is Browning’s noblest and most beautiful female character. There is an excellent study of Pompilia in Poet Lore, vol. i., p. 263. The keynote of her character is found in the line of the poem —
“I knew the right place by foot’s feel;
I took it, and tread firm there.”
Ponte dell’ Angelo (Venice) == The Angel’s Bridge. (Asolando, 1889.) Boverio, in his Annals, 1552, n. 69, relates this legend of Our Lady. It is recorded at length in The Glories of Mary, by St. Alphonsus Liguori (p. 192), a curious work which contains a great number of such stories, which have for their moral the efficacy of prayers to Our Lady as a protection from the devil. On one of the large canals at Venice is a house with the figure of an angel guarding it from harm. Once upon a time (says Father Boverio in his Annals) this house belonged to a lawyer, who was a cruel oppressor of all who sought his advice; never was such an extortionate rascal, though a devout one. On one occasion, after a particularly lucrative week, he determined to ask some holy man to dinner, as he could not get the memory of a widow whom he had wronged out of his mind; so he invited the chief of the Capucins to disinfect his house by his holy presence. The monk duly presented himself, and was informed that a most admirable helpmate in the house was an ape, who worked for him indefatigably. The host leaves his guest for awhile, that he may go below to see how the dinner progresses. No sooner had the lawyer left the room than the monk, by the instinct which saints possess for detecting the devil under every disguise, adjures the ape to come out of his hiding-place and show himself in propriâ personâ. Satan stands forth, and explains that he is there to convey to hell the lawyer who plagued the widows and orphans by his exactions. The monk asks how it came to pass that he had so long delayed God’s commission by acting as servant where he should have been a minister of justice. The devil explains that the lawyer had placed himself under the Virgin’s protection by the prayers which he never intermitted; thus the man is armed in mail, and cannot be lugged off to hell while saying, “Save me, Madonna!” If he should discontinue that prayer, Satan would pounce on him at once. He waits, therefore, hoping to catch him napping. The holy man adjures him to vanish. The fiend says he cannot leave the house without doing some damage to prove that his errand had been fulfilled. The saint bade him make his exit through the wall, and leave a gap in the stone for every one to see, which, having duly been done, the monk goes downstairs to dinner with a good appetite. The host asks what has become of the ape, whose assistance he requires, and is terrified to see his guest wringing blood from the table napkin. It is explained that the miracle is performed to show him how he has wrung blood from his clients, and the host is bidden to go down on his knees and swear to make restitution. The man consents, and absolution following, he is forthwith taken upstairs to see the hole in the wall left by the devil exorcised by his saintship. The lawyer fears that Satan may use the aperture of exit for an entry to his dwelling at a future time, when the Capucin bids him erect the figure of an angel and place it by the aperture, which holy sign will frighten the fiend away. And this is why the house by the bridge has the angel on the escutcheon, and why the bridge itself is called the Angel’s Bridge, though Mr. Browning thinks the Devil’s Bridge would have been as good a name for it.
Pope, The. (The Ring and the Book.) The final appeal in the Franceschini murder case being to the Pope, he has to decide the fate of the Count. He reviews the whole case in the tenth book, and gives his decision for the execution of the murderers. Browning’s old men are some of his greatest creations, and The Pope is perhaps the finest of such conceptions. There is an excellent essay on The Pope in Poet Lore, vol i., p. 309, by Professor Shackford.
Pope, The, and the Net. (Asolando, 1889.) It is generally supposed that this poem refers to Pope Sixtus V. Mr. Browning possibly obtained the idea from Leti’s well-known biography of the Pope, which is full of fables. Dr. Furnivall, however, thinks that Mr. Browning invented the story. It is said that the character of Sixtus V. suits the poem better than any other. The pope in question – Felice Peretti – was born in 1521, of poor parents, but the story of his having been a swineherd in his youth seems to be mere legend. The Encyclopædia Britannica (9th edition) says he was created cardinal in 1570, when he lived in strict retirement; affecting, it is said, to be in a precarious state of health. According to the usual story, which is probably at least exaggerated, this dissimulation greatly contributed to his unexpected elevation to the papacy on the next vacancy (April 24th, 1585). “Sixtus V. left the reputation of a zealous and austere pope – with the pernicious qualities inseparable from such a character in his age – of a stern and terrible, but just and magnanimous temporal magistrate, of a great sovereign in an age of great sovereigns, of a man always aiming at the highest things, and whose great faults were but the exaggerations of great virtues.” The best view of his character is that given by Ranke. Mr. Browning makes his Pope to be the son of a fisherman, who, on his elevation to the cardinalate, kept his fisher-father’s net in his palace-hall on a coat-of-arms, as token of his humility. When, however, he became Pope, the net was removed because it had caught the fish.
