 | Rhymes |  |
27
THE DEAN OF BADAJOS.
To Samuel Rogers, Esq.
Dear Rogers, at your hint I have been fain
To versify this pithy tale of Spain,
Perhaps the growth of a more Southern shore,
Transplanted thither by invading moor;
Which, being graffed where it has taken root,
Hath changed the form and colour of the fruit.
Yet stringing rhymes upon a tale which flows
So neatly and so naturally in prose,
28
Akin to tying bladders to a cat:
Since—wind and wings to boot—when all is done,
She cannot fly so well as she can run:
But you (I find) are backed by La Fontaine:
He in a preface says, ‘that stories gain
‘By being versed,’ and—what might make me bold,
And them, whose stories, like my own, are old—
‘That stories gain by being often told.’
His word and yours should justify my deed;
But, as few now his pleasant pages read,
Your warranty must keep my bark afloat;
And victualled for short venture is the boat.
The Dean of Badajos was (report hath sed)
A scholar and a ripe one, and well read
In all the arts and sciences which rank a
Man highest in the schools of Salamanca,
Coimbra or Alcala; nor was to seek
In Law or Logic, Latin or in Greek:
In schoolmen versed, in poets, epic, tragic,
And comic, he knew every thing but magic.
To lack such knowledge was a source of pain,
For none (he deemed) could show that secret vein,
Of all the learned men that lived in Spain.
At last, and when least hoped, within his reach,
He heard of one that could the science teach,
Who at Toledo lived, of little fame;
And Don Torribio was his stile and name.
A scholar and a ripe one, and well read
In all the arts and sciences which rank a
Man highest in the schools of Salamanca,
Coimbra or Alcala; nor was to seek
In Law or Logic, Latin or in Greek:
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And comic, he knew every thing but magic.
To lack such knowledge was a source of pain,
For none (he deemed) could show that secret vein,
Of all the learned men that lived in Spain.
At last, and when least hoped, within his reach,
He heard of one that could the science teach,
Who at Toledo lived, of little fame;
And Don Torribio was his stile and name.
Scarce of his name assured and his abode,
The dean was on his mule and on his road.
He lighting at Toledo, to a lone,
Mean dwelling by his muleteer was shown:
And, as if all was moulded on one plan,
Such as his modest mansion found the man;
To whom, due congees made, he thus began:
‘I am the dean of Badajos. Is none
‘In Seville, the Castilles, or Aragon,
‘Nay—not from Cadiz to the Pyrenees,
‘(Whatever are his honors, or degrees)
‘But calls me Master; yet were I by thee
‘Called scholar, it a higher praise would be.
‘Instruct me but in magic, I entreat,
‘And bind me to thy service, hands and feet.’
Although he piqued himself, as he might well,
On keeping the best company in hell,
Torribio dealt not (as my story teaches)
In candied courtesies and flowery speeches;
But bluntly said, ‘he had met such ill return
‘From all that had repaired to him to learn,
‘It was his firm resolve, that never more
‘Would he reveal his prostituted lore.’
—‘And has the great Torribio been repaid
‘In such base coin?’ the dean of Badajos said,
And—as if such a thought had fired his blood—
Poured forth so loud, so long and large a flood
Of saws and sentences against the crime
Of foul ingratitude, in prose and rhyme,
All on a foam with honest hate and scorn,
That by the furious torrent overborne,
The sage confessed, ‘he could no more repel
‘The advances of a man, who spoke so well:
‘He would instruct him; he would be his host;’
And from his window cried; ‘Jacintha, roast
‘A brace of partridges;’ (this window looked
Upon the kitchen where Jacintha cooked;
His cook and faithful housekeeper was she:)
Adding, ‘the dean of Badajos sups with me.’
Next touched his pupil's brow, and said, (let not
The words by thee, good reader, be forgot)
‘Ortobolan, Pistrafier, Ornagriouf:’
Then of his zeal and art gave present proof;
Opened his books; and with his pupil fell
To work on sign and sigill, spirit and spell.
The dean was on his mule and on his road.
He lighting at Toledo, to a lone,
Mean dwelling by his muleteer was shown:
And, as if all was moulded on one plan,
Such as his modest mansion found the man;
To whom, due congees made, he thus began:
‘I am the dean of Badajos. Is none
‘In Seville, the Castilles, or Aragon,
30
‘(Whatever are his honors, or degrees)
‘But calls me Master; yet were I by thee
‘Called scholar, it a higher praise would be.
‘Instruct me but in magic, I entreat,
‘And bind me to thy service, hands and feet.’
Although he piqued himself, as he might well,
On keeping the best company in hell,
Torribio dealt not (as my story teaches)
In candied courtesies and flowery speeches;
But bluntly said, ‘he had met such ill return
‘From all that had repaired to him to learn,
‘It was his firm resolve, that never more
‘Would he reveal his prostituted lore.’
—‘And has the great Torribio been repaid
‘In such base coin?’ the dean of Badajos said,
And—as if such a thought had fired his blood—
Poured forth so loud, so long and large a flood
Of saws and sentences against the crime
Of foul ingratitude, in prose and rhyme,
31
That by the furious torrent overborne,
The sage confessed, ‘he could no more repel
‘The advances of a man, who spoke so well:
‘He would instruct him; he would be his host;’
And from his window cried; ‘Jacintha, roast
‘A brace of partridges;’ (this window looked
Upon the kitchen where Jacintha cooked;
His cook and faithful housekeeper was she:)
Adding, ‘the dean of Badajos sups with me.’
Next touched his pupil's brow, and said, (let not
The words by thee, good reader, be forgot)
‘Ortobolan, Pistrafier, Ornagriouf:’
Then of his zeal and art gave present proof;
Opened his books; and with his pupil fell
To work on sign and sigill, spirit and spell.
Master and scholar little time had read,
Before a knock, strange voice, and heavy tread
Were heard; and lo! Jacintha, and with her
A squat, square man, that seemed a messenger!
Breathless he was, and fiery hot with haste,
Splashed to the eyes, and booted to the waist.
This courier was postillion to my lord,
Bishop of Badajos; and he brought word,
‘The bishop’ (who had for a long time been
Ailing, and who was uncle to the dean)
‘Had had an apoplectic stroke, and lay
‘Upon his death-bed when he came away.’
The dean, intent upon his long-sought art,
Cursed messenger and uncle—but apart—
And gravely bade the man return; ‘he would
‘Follow (he added) with what haste he could:’
But hardly was he gone before the twain,
Wizard and dean, were at their work again.
Before a knock, strange voice, and heavy tread
32
A squat, square man, that seemed a messenger!
Breathless he was, and fiery hot with haste,
Splashed to the eyes, and booted to the waist.
This courier was postillion to my lord,
Bishop of Badajos; and he brought word,
‘The bishop’ (who had for a long time been
Ailing, and who was uncle to the dean)
‘Had had an apoplectic stroke, and lay
‘Upon his death-bed when he came away.’
The dean, intent upon his long-sought art,
Cursed messenger and uncle—but apart—
And gravely bade the man return; ‘he would
‘Follow (he added) with what haste he could:’
But hardly was he gone before the twain,
Wizard and dean, were at their work again.
Vainly, for lo! new messengers! but more
Worth hearing were the tidings which they bore.
This new arrival was a deputation,
Sent by the Chapter, who, in convocation
Since the dean's uncle, their right reverend lord,
The bishop, had been called to his reward,
Had chosen him—as fittest found—to keep,
And feed and fold his houseless, hungry sheep.
Upon this hint Torribio spake: he paid
The bishop a brief compliment, and said,
‘He upon this occasion might fulfil
‘His promises; nor did he doubt his will.
‘He had not yet informed him, he had a son,
‘Who, wanting not in mother wit, had none
‘For the dark sciences: whom he had ceased
‘To press upon this point, and made a priest:
‘Nor better bad his beads, nor said his credo,
‘In all the many churches of Toledo.
Worth hearing were the tidings which they bore.
33
Sent by the Chapter, who, in convocation
Since the dean's uncle, their right reverend lord,
The bishop, had been called to his reward,
Had chosen him—as fittest found—to keep,
And feed and fold his houseless, hungry sheep.
Upon this hint Torribio spake: he paid
The bishop a brief compliment, and said,
‘He upon this occasion might fulfil
‘His promises; nor did he doubt his will.
‘He had not yet informed him, he had a son,
‘Who, wanting not in mother wit, had none
‘For the dark sciences: whom he had ceased
‘To press upon this point, and made a priest:
‘Nor better bad his beads, nor said his credo,
‘In all the many churches of Toledo.
‘Then, since his pupil could not be at once
‘A bishop and a dean, and must renounce
‘The lesser dignity, he would outrun
‘His wishes, if he gave it to his son.’
Embarrassed was the dean; but cleared his eye
And cloudy forehead, and thus made reply:
‘It grieves me—grieves me greatly to refuse
‘The first small boon for which Torribio sues:
‘But a rich cousin, by my kin well seen,
‘One that is only fit to be a dean,
‘And who has promised I shall be his heir,
‘Looks to my deanery; and, should I dare
‘Withhold the prize for which he hopes. I should
‘Anger each man and woman of my blood.
‘But a poor deanery in Estremadura
‘Ill fits his son, to whom I would assure a
‘More fitting and more profitable boon;
‘And surely this could compass late or soon;
‘Sooner or later, some new prize must fall;
‘And, since I must obey my clergy's call,
‘Follow me, I beseech, and you shall be
‘Friend, councillor, and all in all to me:
‘Leave not, dear master ('tis my prayer) half done
‘The work you have so happily begun;
‘And reckon on his gratitude, who knows
‘The measure of the mighty debt he owes.’
After some pause, Torribio gave consent,
And with him to his see of Badajos went;
Where, as if he had filled the high vicar's stall,
He was to the archbishop all in all:
Nay; by his conduct earned, and tongue and pen,
Golden opinions of all sorts of men.
‘A bishop and a dean, and must renounce
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‘His wishes, if he gave it to his son.’
Embarrassed was the dean; but cleared his eye
And cloudy forehead, and thus made reply:
‘It grieves me—grieves me greatly to refuse
‘The first small boon for which Torribio sues:
‘But a rich cousin, by my kin well seen,
‘One that is only fit to be a dean,
‘And who has promised I shall be his heir,
‘Looks to my deanery; and, should I dare
‘Withhold the prize for which he hopes. I should
‘Anger each man and woman of my blood.
‘But a poor deanery in Estremadura
‘Ill fits his son, to whom I would assure a
‘More fitting and more profitable boon;
‘And surely this could compass late or soon;
‘Sooner or later, some new prize must fall;
‘And, since I must obey my clergy's call,
‘Follow me, I beseech, and you shall be
‘Friend, councillor, and all in all to me:
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‘The work you have so happily begun;
‘And reckon on his gratitude, who knows
‘The measure of the mighty debt he owes.’
After some pause, Torribio gave consent,
And with him to his see of Badajos went;
Where, as if he had filled the high vicar's stall,
He was to the archbishop all in all:
Nay; by his conduct earned, and tongue and pen,
Golden opinions of all sorts of men.
Beneath the guidance of so good a master,
The bishop, if more cautiously, moved faster
In magic, (for more steady was his pace)
Than when he first began to run that race;
Learned study with his duties to combine;
And shaped himself withal so just a line,
That throughout Spain, in country, town, and court,
Fame of his worth and wisdom made report.
When lo! into his lap—unlooked for—fell a
New plumb, the archbishopric of Compostella.
I should want words to tell, how at their loss
Men—priests and people—mourned in Badajos:
Whose Canons (their last token of respect)
Besought their parting prelate to select
One from among his many friends, to be
His successor in that afflicted see.
The bishop, if more cautiously, moved faster
In magic, (for more steady was his pace)
Than when he first began to run that race;
Learned study with his duties to combine;
And shaped himself withal so just a line,
That throughout Spain, in country, town, and court,
Fame of his worth and wisdom made report.
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New plumb, the archbishopric of Compostella.
I should want words to tell, how at their loss
Men—priests and people—mourned in Badajos:
Whose Canons (their last token of respect)
Besought their parting prelate to select
One from among his many friends, to be
His successor in that afflicted see.
The occasion was not by Torribio lost;
Who for his son again besought the post;
And was again refused the vacant place:
But that with all imaginable grace:
‘The archbishop felt such sorrow, felt such shame,
‘At so postponing his preceptor's claim:
‘But could he a yet older claim withstand?
‘That of Don Ferdinand de Lara, grand
‘Constable of Castile: for service done,
‘He sought the windfall for a natural son.
‘Bound to this Lord' (though visible relation
Was none between them) ‘by old obligation,
‘He paid a debt; and hence might be inferred,
‘How well with all he kept his plighted word.’
This fact, however it might make him grieve,
Torribio had the goodness to believe;
At his rare fortune that had gained the good,
Which he had lost, rejoiced as best he cou'd;
And, as before at Badajos, went to dwell at
His see of Compostella with the prelate.
Who for his son again besought the post;
And was again refused the vacant place:
But that with all imaginable grace:
‘The archbishop felt such sorrow, felt such shame,
‘At so postponing his preceptor's claim:
‘But could he a yet older claim withstand?
‘That of Don Ferdinand de Lara, grand
‘Constable of Castile: for service done,
‘He sought the windfall for a natural son.
37
Was none between them) ‘by old obligation,
‘He paid a debt; and hence might be inferred,
‘How well with all he kept his plighted word.’
This fact, however it might make him grieve,
Torribio had the goodness to believe;
At his rare fortune that had gained the good,
Which he had lost, rejoiced as best he cou'd;
And, as before at Badajos, went to dwell at
His see of Compostella with the prelate.
So little there those two were to remain,
That the remove was hardly worth their pain.
Soon the archbishop to a better home
Was summoned by a chamberlain from Rome,
With scarlet hat and brief: ‘the holy father
(That brief declared in full) ‘desired to gather
‘Wisdom and knowledge from his mouth, whose name
‘Was noised through Christendom by clamorous fame;
‘And left him power again to appoint—that lesser
‘Might be his church's sorrow—his successor.’
Torribio was not with his reverend chief,
When the pope's chamberlain brought hat and brief.
He to Toledo for some days had gone,
It chanced, upon a visit to his son;
Who (for his course had been more slow than sure)
Was living there upon a paltry cure:
But, being now returned, was spared the pain
Of suing for the vacant see in vain:
Him the archprelate went to meet; he prest
With open arms Torribio to his breast;
And cried; ‘you have heard good news; now hear the best.
‘Now have I two to tell, instead of one;
‘I have been made a cardinal, and your son
‘A cardinal as well shall briefly be;
‘Or I have no credit with the holy see.
‘I had predestined him my vacant throne:
‘But mark his evil fortune, nay, my own;
‘My mother, left at Badajos, when we
‘Were called to Compostella, wrote to me,
‘While you, dear Sir, were to Toledo gone,
‘Unless my mitre was bestowed on Don
‘Pablos de Salazàr, her ancient friend
‘And her confessor, it would be her end.
‘And such, I well believe, would be the case.
‘Now put yourself, dear master, in my place:
‘Say; would you kill your mother?’ and he sighed.
Not of a kind to counsel matricide,
Torribio was, in truth, or in appearance
Content, nor cursed the beldam's interference.
But—would you sift the story—she whose will
The pious son pretended to fulfill,
This earnest advocate was old, and fat,
And foolish, seeing but her maid and cat;
And, as on all sides it was said, (Heaven bless her)
Knew not the very name of her confessor.
Was it not rather at the instigation
Of a Gallician lady, a relation
Of this Don Pablos, it was brought about,
A hospitable widow and devout?
Thus much is sure; the prelate used to vaunt
This pious woman's wine of Alicant;
Called her unfailing flask ‘the widow's cruize,’
And often blest her ollas and ragouts.
That the remove was hardly worth their pain.
Soon the archbishop to a better home
Was summoned by a chamberlain from Rome,
With scarlet hat and brief: ‘the holy father
(That brief declared in full) ‘desired to gather
‘Wisdom and knowledge from his mouth, whose name
‘Was noised through Christendom by clamorous fame;
38
‘Might be his church's sorrow—his successor.’
Torribio was not with his reverend chief,
When the pope's chamberlain brought hat and brief.
He to Toledo for some days had gone,
It chanced, upon a visit to his son;
Who (for his course had been more slow than sure)
Was living there upon a paltry cure:
But, being now returned, was spared the pain
Of suing for the vacant see in vain:
Him the archprelate went to meet; he prest
With open arms Torribio to his breast;
And cried; ‘you have heard good news; now hear the best.
‘Now have I two to tell, instead of one;
‘I have been made a cardinal, and your son
‘A cardinal as well shall briefly be;
‘Or I have no credit with the holy see.
‘I had predestined him my vacant throne:
‘But mark his evil fortune, nay, my own;
39
‘Were called to Compostella, wrote to me,
‘While you, dear Sir, were to Toledo gone,
‘Unless my mitre was bestowed on Don
‘Pablos de Salazàr, her ancient friend
‘And her confessor, it would be her end.
‘And such, I well believe, would be the case.
‘Now put yourself, dear master, in my place:
‘Say; would you kill your mother?’ and he sighed.
Not of a kind to counsel matricide,
Torribio was, in truth, or in appearance
Content, nor cursed the beldam's interference.
But—would you sift the story—she whose will
The pious son pretended to fulfill,
This earnest advocate was old, and fat,
And foolish, seeing but her maid and cat;
And, as on all sides it was said, (Heaven bless her)
Knew not the very name of her confessor.
Was it not rather at the instigation
Of a Gallician lady, a relation
40
A hospitable widow and devout?
Thus much is sure; the prelate used to vaunt
This pious woman's wine of Alicant;
Called her unfailing flask ‘the widow's cruize,’
And often blest her ollas and ragouts.
However this might be, in friendly sort
Master and pupil sought the papal court:
Wherein as well the cardinal was seen,
As everywhere he heretofore had been;
As popular with priest as pope, a vote, a
Word from his lips sufficed to rule the rota.
While thus acknowledged, pope and priesthood's guide,
Yea, in his height of fame the pontiff died.
And, lo! unanimous the conclave were
In calling him to fill St. Peter's chair.
The holy father solemnly proclaimed—
A private audience Don Torribio claimed;
And wept for pleasure while he kist his feet,
Who filled so worthily the sacred seat.
‘He then to faithful services referred,
‘And to the pope recalled his plighted word:
‘Scarce hinted at the hat he had laid down,
‘When he exchanged it for the triple crown:
‘But limited his suit to one short prayer;
‘Would he now make his helpless son his care?
‘He would be well contented with possessing
‘The means of life, if sweetened with his blessing.
‘He on his part renounced each brighter vision;
‘And sought but for his needs such small provision
‘As might supply (enough would be a feast)
‘The wants of a philosopher and priest.’
Meanwhile to him, that deemed he'd gained his scope,
And knew enough of magic for a pope,
And now could ill frequent the sabbath revels
Of witches with hobgoblins, ghosts and devils,
His friend Torribio had become a thorn
In the flesh, a thing no longer to be borne:
The holy father took his line, and stout
In the resolve forthwith to pluck it out,
Eyed the magician with a mien severe,
And to his suppliant cried, ‘I grieve to hear,
‘You under false pretences of appliance
‘To hidden studies and mysterious science,
‘Dabble with spell, and deal with demon; crimes
‘The Christian church hath punished in all times.
‘It would much irk me to pronounce your doom:
‘But, if you four days hence are found in Rome,
‘Beware the secular arm, lest you expire,
‘As well your sins deserve, in penal fire.’
He ended frowning; but, unmoved in look,
Torribio heard the threat; and simply spoke
Anew the three mysterious words reversed,
(Words not to be forgot) by him rehearsed
When he received the dean beneath his roof;
Ortoloban, Pistrafier, Ornagriouf.
And called aloud (as he whilere had done)
From the open window, ‘You need dress but one
‘Partridge, Jacintha; for my friend, the dean,
‘Does not sup with me.’ Then evanished clean
The scholar's vision: on the clock he cast
His eyes, and saw but one short hour had past,
Since, with intent to study magic lore,
He had first darkened Don Torribio's door:
An hour which seemed to fill his every wish up;
That made him from a simple dean a bishop,
Bishop, archbishop, cardinal and pope:
Yet all was but a bubble blown from soap:
He in that hour had stirred not from his stool;
And that short hour had stamped him knave and fool.
Master and pupil sought the papal court:
Wherein as well the cardinal was seen,
As everywhere he heretofore had been;
As popular with priest as pope, a vote, a
Word from his lips sufficed to rule the rota.
While thus acknowledged, pope and priesthood's guide,
Yea, in his height of fame the pontiff died.
And, lo! unanimous the conclave were
In calling him to fill St. Peter's chair.
The holy father solemnly proclaimed—
A private audience Don Torribio claimed;
41
Who filled so worthily the sacred seat.
‘He then to faithful services referred,
‘And to the pope recalled his plighted word:
‘Scarce hinted at the hat he had laid down,
‘When he exchanged it for the triple crown:
‘But limited his suit to one short prayer;
‘Would he now make his helpless son his care?
‘He would be well contented with possessing
‘The means of life, if sweetened with his blessing.
‘He on his part renounced each brighter vision;
‘And sought but for his needs such small provision
‘As might supply (enough would be a feast)
‘The wants of a philosopher and priest.’
Meanwhile to him, that deemed he'd gained his scope,
And knew enough of magic for a pope,
And now could ill frequent the sabbath revels
Of witches with hobgoblins, ghosts and devils,
His friend Torribio had become a thorn
In the flesh, a thing no longer to be borne:
42
In the resolve forthwith to pluck it out,
Eyed the magician with a mien severe,
And to his suppliant cried, ‘I grieve to hear,
‘You under false pretences of appliance
‘To hidden studies and mysterious science,
‘Dabble with spell, and deal with demon; crimes
‘The Christian church hath punished in all times.
‘It would much irk me to pronounce your doom:
‘But, if you four days hence are found in Rome,
‘Beware the secular arm, lest you expire,
‘As well your sins deserve, in penal fire.’
He ended frowning; but, unmoved in look,
Torribio heard the threat; and simply spoke
Anew the three mysterious words reversed,
(Words not to be forgot) by him rehearsed
When he received the dean beneath his roof;
Ortoloban, Pistrafier, Ornagriouf.
And called aloud (as he whilere had done)
From the open window, ‘You need dress but one
43
‘Does not sup with me.’ Then evanished clean
The scholar's vision: on the clock he cast
His eyes, and saw but one short hour had past,
Since, with intent to study magic lore,
He had first darkened Don Torribio's door:
An hour which seemed to fill his every wish up;
That made him from a simple dean a bishop,
Bishop, archbishop, cardinal and pope:
Yet all was but a bubble blown from soap:
He in that hour had stirred not from his stool;
And that short hour had stamped him knave and fool.
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