Cenciaja

Ogni cencio vuol entrare in bucato.     - Italian Proverb.     Mr. Buxton Forman received the following self-explanatory letter from Browning:     19 WARWICK CRESCENT. W., July 27, 76.     DEAR MR. BUXTON FORMAN: There can be no objection to such a simple statement as you have inserted, if it seems worth inserting. Fact, it is. Next: aia is generally an accumulative yet depreciative termination: Cenciajaa bundle of ragsa trifle The proverb means every poor creature will be pressing into the company of his betters, and I used it to deprecate the notion that I intended anything of the kind. Is it any contribution to all connected with Shelley, if I mention that my Book (The Ring and the Book) [rather the old square yellow book from which the details were taken] has a reference to the reason given by Farinacci, the advocate of the Cenci, of his failure in the defence of Beatrice? Fuisse punitam Beatricem (he declares) poem ultimi supplicii, non quia ex intervallo occidi mandavit insidiantem suo honori, sed quia ejus exceptionem non probavi tibi. Prout, et idem firmiter sperabatur de sorore Beatrice si propositam excusationem probasset, grout non probavit. That is, she expected to avow the main outrage, and did not: in conformity with her words, That which I ought to confess, that will I confess; that to which I ought to assent, to that I assent; and that which I ought to deny, that will I deny. Here is another Cenciaja!     Yours very sincerely,     ROBERT BROWNING     May I print, Shelley, how it came to pass     That when your Beatrice seemed by lapse     Of many a long month since her sentence fell     Assured of pardon for the parricide     By intercession of stanch friends, or, say,     By certain pricks of conscience in the Pope     Conniver at Francesco Cencis guilt,     Suddenly all things changed and Clement grew     Stern, as you state, nor to be moved nor bent,     But said these three words coldly She must die;     Subjoining Pardon? Paolo Santa Croce     Murdered his mother also yestereve,     And he is fled: she shall not flee at least!     So, to the letter, sentence was fulfilled?     Shelley, may I condense verbosity     That lies before me, into some few words     Of English, and illustrate your superb     Achievement by a rescued anecdote,     No great things, only new and true beside?     As if some mere familiar of a house     Should venture to accost the group at gaze     Before its Titian, famed the wide world through,     And supplement such pictured masterpiece     By whisper, Searching in the archives here,     I found the reason of the Ladys fate,     And how by accident it came to pass     She wears the halo and displays the palm:     Who, haply, else had never suffered no,     Nor graced our gallery, by consequence.     Who loved the work would like the little news:     Who lauds your poem lends an ear to me     Relating how the penalty was paid     By one Marchese dell Oriolo, called     Onofrio Santa Croce otherwise,     For his complicity in matricide     With Palo his own brother, he whose crime     And flight induced those three words She must die.     Thus I unroll you then the manuscript.     Gods justice (of the multiplicity     Of such communications extant still,     Recording, each, injustice done by God     In person of his Vicar-upon-earth,     Scarce one but leads off to the selfsame tune)     Gods justice, tardy though it prove perchance,     Rests never on the track until it reach     Delinquency. In proof I cite the case     Of Paolo Santa Croce.     Many times     The youngster, having been importunate     That Marchesine Costanza, who remained     His widowed mother, should supplant the heir     Her elder son, and substitute himself     In sole possession of her faculty,     And meeting just as often with rebuff,     Blinded by so exorbitant a lust     Of gold, the youngster straightway tasked his wits,     Casting about to kill the lady thus.     He first, to cover his iniquity     Writes to Onofrio Santa Croce, then     Authoritative lord, acquainting him     Their mother was contamination wrought     Like hell-fire in the beauty of their House     By dissoluteness and abandonment     Of soul and body to impure delight.     Moreover, since she suffered from disease,     Those symptoms which her death made manifest     Hydroptic, he affirmed were fruits of sin     About to bring confusion and disgrace     Upon the ancient lineage and high fame     O the family, when published. Duty bound.     He asked his brother what a son should do?     Which when Marchese dell Oriolo heard     By letter, being absent at his land     Oriolo, he made answer, this, no more:     It must behoove a son, things haply so,     To act as honor prompts a cavalier     And son, perform his duty to all three,     Mother and brothers here advice broke off.     By which advice informed and fortified     As he professed himself since bound by birth     To bear Gods voice in primogeniture     Paolo, who kept his mother company     In her domain Subiaco, straightway dared     His whole enormity of enterprise,     And, falling on her, stabbed the lady dead;     Whose death demonstrated her innocence,     And happened, by the way, since Jesus Christ     Died to save man, just sixteen hundred years.     Costanza was of aspect beautiful     Exceedingly, and seemed, although in age     Sixty about, to far surpass her peers     The cotaneous dames, in youth and grace.     Done the misdeed, its author takes to flight,     Foiling thereby the justice of the world:     Not Gods however, God, be sure, knows well     The way to clutch a culprit. Witness here!     The present sinner, when he least expects,     Snug-cornered somewhere i the Basilicate,     Stumbles upon his death by violence.     A man of blood assaults a man of blood     And slays him somehow. This was afterward:     Enough, he promptly met with his deserts,     And, ending thus, permits we end with him,     And push forthwith to this important point     His matricide fell out, of all the days,     Precisely when the law-procedure closed     Respecting Count Francesco Cencis death     Chargeable on his daughter, sons and wife.     Thus patricide was matched with matricide,     A poet not inelegantly rhymed:     Nay, fratricide those Princes Massimi!     Which so disturbed the spirit of the Pope     That all the likelihood Rome entertained     Of Beatrices pardon vanished straight,     And she endured the piteous death.     Now see     The sequel what effect commandment had     For strict inquiry into this last case,     When Cardinal Aldobrandini (great     His efficacy nephew to the Pope!)     Was bidden crush ay, though his very hand     Got soil i the act crime spawning everywhere!     Because, when all endeavor had been used     To catch the aforesaid Paolo, all in vain     Make perquisition, quoth our Eminence,     Throughout his now deserted domicile!     Ransack the palace, roof and floor, to find     If haply any scrap of writing, hid     In nook or corner, may convict who knows?     Brother Onofrio of intelligence     With brother Paolo, as in brotherhood     Is but too likely: crime spawns everywhere.     And, every cranny searched accordingly,     There comes to light O lynx-eyed Cardinal!     Onofrios unconsidered writing-scrap,     The letter in reply to Paolos prayer,     The word of counsel that things proving so,     Paolo should act the proper knightly part,     And do as was incumbent on a son,     A brother and a man of birth, be sure!     Whereat immediately the officers     Proceeded to arrest Onofrio found     At football, childs play, unaware of harm,     Safe with his friends, the Orsini, at their seat     Monte Giordano; as he left the house     He came upon the watch in wait for him     Set by the Barigel, was caught and caged.     News of which capture being, that same hour,     Conveyed to Rome, forthwith our Eminence     Commands Taverna. Governor and Judge,     To have the process in especial care,     Be, first to last, not only president     In person, but inquisitor as well     Nor trust the by-work to a substitute:     Bids him not, squeamish, keep the bench, but scrub     The floor of justice, so to speak, go try     His best in prison with the criminal:     Promising, as reward for by-work done     Fairly on all-fours, that, success obtained     And crime avowed, or such connivency     With crime as should procure a decent death     Himself will humbly beg which means, procure     The Hat and Purple from his relative     The Pope, and so repay a diligence     Which, meritorious in the Cenci-case,     Mounts plainly here to Purple and the Hat.     Whereupon did my lord the Governor     So masterfully exercise the task     Enjoined him, that he, day by day, and week     By week, and month by month, from first to last     Toiled for the prize: now, punctual at his place,     Played judge, and now, assiduous at his post,     Inquisitor pressed cushion and scoured plank,     Early and late. Noons fervor and nights chill,     Naught moved whom morn would, purpling, make amends!     So that observers laughed as, many a day,     He left home, in July when day is flame,     Posted to Tordinona-prison, plunged     Into a vault where daylong night is ice,     There passed his eight hours on a stretch, content,     Examining Onofrio: all the stress     Of all examination steadily     Converging into one pin-point, he pushed     Tentative now of head and now of heart.     As when the nut-hatch taps and tries the nut     This side and that side till the kernel sound,     So did he press the sole and single point     What was the very meaning of the phrase     Do as beseems an honored cavalier?     Which one persistent question-torture, plied     Day by day, week by week, and month by month,     Morn, noon and night, fatigued away a mind     Grown imbecile by darkness, solitude,     And one vivacious memory gnawing there     As when a corpse is coffined with a snake:     Fatigued Onofrio into what might seem     Admission that perchance his judgment groped     So blindly, feeling for an issue aught     With semblance of an issue from the toils     Cast of a sudden round feet late so free,     He possibly might have envisaged, scarce     Recoiled from even were the issue death     Even her death whose life was death and worse!     Always provided that the charge of crime,     Each jot and tittle of the charge were true.     In such a sense, belike, he might advise     His brother to expurgate crime with . . . well,     With blood, if blood must follow on the course     Taken as might beseem a cavalier.     Whereupon process ended, and report     Was made without a minute of delay     To Clement, who, because of those two crimes     O the Massimi and Cenci flagrant late,     Must needs impatiently desire result.     Result obtained, he bade the Governor     Summon the Congregation and despatch.     Summons made, sentence passed accordingly     Death by beheading. When his death-decree     Was intimated to Onofrio, all     Man could do that did he to save himself.     Twas much, the having gained for his defence     The Advocate o the Poor, with natural help     Of many noble friendly persons fain     To disengage a man of family,     So young too, from his grim entanglement:     But Cardinal Aldobrandini ruled     There must be no diversion of the law.     Justice is justice, and the magistrate     Bears not the sword in vain. Who sins must die.     So, the Marchese had his head cut off,     With Rome to see, a concourse infinite,     In Place Saint Angelo beside the Bridge:     Where, demonstrating magnanimity     Adequate to his birth and breed, poor boy!     He made the people the accustomed speech.     Exhorted them to true faith, honest works,     And special good behavior as regards     A parent of no matter what the sex,     Bidding each son take warning from himself.     Truly, it was considered in the boy     Stark staring lunacy, no less, to snap     So plain a bait, be hooked and hauled ashore     By such an angler as the Cardinal!     Why make confession of his privity     To Paolos enterprise? Mere sealing lips     Or, better, saying When I counselled him     To do as might beseem a cavalier,     What could I mean but Hide our parents shame     As Christian ought, by aid of Holy Church!     Bury it in a convent ay, beneath     Enough dotation to prevent its ghost     From troubling earth! Mere saying thus, tis plain,     Not only were his life the recompense.     But he had manifestly proved himself     True Christian, and in lieu of punishment     Got praise of all men! so the populace.     Anyhow, when the Pope made promise good     (That of Aldobrandini, near and dear)     And gave Taverna, who had toiled so much,     A Cardinals equipment, some such word     At this from mouth to ear went saucily:     Tavernas cap is dyed in what he drew     From Santa Croces veins! So joked the world.     I add: Onofrio left one child behind,     A daughter named Valeria, dowered with grace     Abundantly of soul and body, doomed     To life the shorter for her fathers fate.     By death of her, the Marquisate returned     To that Orsini House from whence it came:     Oriolo having passed as donative     To Santa Croce from their ancestors.     And no word more? By all means! Would you know     The authoritative answer, when folk urged     What made Aldobrandini, hound-like stanch,     Hunt out of life a harmless simpleton?     The answer was Hatred implacable,     By reason they were rivals in their love.     The Cardinals desire was to a dame     Whose favor was Onofrios. Pricked with pride,     The simpleton must ostentatiously     Display a ring, the Cardinals love-gift,     Given to Onofrio as the ladys gage;     Which ring on finger, as he put forth hand     To draw a tapestry, the Cardinal     Saw and knew, gift and owner, old and young;     Whereon a fury entered him the fire     He quenched with what could quench fire only blood.     Nay, more: there want not who affirm to boot,     The unwise boy, a certain festal eve,     Feigned ignorance of who the wight might be     That pressed too closely on him with a crowd.     He struck the Cardinal a blow: and then,     To put a face upon the incident,     Dared next day, smug as ever, go pay court     I the Cardinals antechamber. Mark and mend,     Ye youth, by this example how may greed     Vainglorious operate in worldly souls!     So ends the chronicler, beginning with     Gods justice, tardy though it prove perchance,     Rests never till it reach delinquency.     Ay, or how otherwise had come to pass     That Victor rules, this present year, in Rome?