Yet again his arm is stayed. Voices, whether of friend or foe, are sounding in his ear. They reiterate the sophistries which have been enlisted in the Count's defence: the credit of the Church, the proprieties of the domestic hearth; the educated sense of honour which is stronger than the moral law; the general relief which will greet the act of mercy. The Pope listens. For one moment we may fancy that he yields. "Pronounce then," the imaginary speakers have said. A swift answer follows:
"I will, Sirs: but a voice other than your's
Quickens my spirit...." (vol. x. p. 146.)
and the death-warrant goes out.
A favourite theory of Mr. Browning's appears in this soliloquy, for the first time since he stated it in "Sordello," and in a somewhat different form: that of the inadequacy of words to convey the truth. The Pope declares (p. 78) that we need
"Expect nor question nor reply
At what we figure as God's judgment-bar!
None of this vile way by the barren words
Which, more than any deed, characterize
Man as made subject to a curse."