BROWNING'S ITALY (31 page)

Here where the print ends, — see the pen and ink

Of the advocate, the ready at a pinch! —

'My dient boasts the clerkly privilege,

Has taken minor Orders many enough,

Shows still sufficient chrism upon his pate

To neutralize a blood-stain: presbyter,

Primce tonsuroe, snbdiaconus,

Sacerdos, so he slips from underneath

Your power, the temporal, slides inside the robe

Of mother Church; to her we make appeal

By the Pope, the Church's head!'

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A parlous plea, Put in with noticeable effect, it seems: 'Since straight,' — resumes the zealous orator, Making a friend acquainted with the facts, — 'Once the word " clericality'' let fall, Procedure stopped and freer breath was drawn By all considerate and responsible Rome.' Quality took the decent part, of course; Held by the husband, who was noble too: Or, for the matter of that, a churl would side With too-refined susceptibility, And honor which, tender in the extreme, Stung to the quick, must roughly right itself At all risks, not sit still and whine for law As a Jew would, if you squeezed him to the wall, Brisk-trotting through the Ghetto. Nay, it seems, Even the Emperor's Envoy had his say To say on the subject; might not see, unmoved, Civility menaced throughout Christendom By too harsh measure dealt her champion here. Lastly, what made all safe, the Pope was kind, From his youth up, reluctant to take life, If mercy might be just and yet show grace; Much more unlikely then, in extreme age, To take a life the general sense bade spare. T was piain that Guido would go scatheless yet.

But human promise, oh, how short of shine! How topple down the piles of hope we rear! How history proves . . . nay, read Herodotus! Suddenly starting from a nap, as it were, A dog-sleep with one shut, one open orb, Cried the Pope's great seif, — Innocent by name And nature too, and eighty-six years old,

Antonio Pignatelli of Naples, Pope

Who had trod many lands, known many deeds,

Probed many hearts, beginning with his own,

And now was far in readiness for God,

T was he who first bade leave those souls in peace,

Those Jansenists, re-nicknamed Molinists,

('Gainst whom the cry went, like a frowsy tune,

Tickling men's ears — the sect for a quarter of an hour

I* the teeth of the world which clown-like, loves to chew

Be it but a straw 'twixt work and whisüing-while,

Taste some vituperation, bite away,

Whether at marjoran-spring or garlic-clove,

Aught it may sport with, spoil, and then spit forth,)

'Leave them alone,' bade he, 'those Molinists!

Who may have other light than we perceive,

Or why is it the whole world hates them thus?'

Also he peeled off that last scandal-rag

Of Nepotism; and so observed the poor

That men would merrily say, 'Halt, deaf and blind»

Who feed on fat things, leave the master's seif

To gather up the fragments of his feast,

These be the nephews of Pope Innocent! —

His own meal costs but five carlines a day,

Poor-priest's allowance, for he claims no more.'

— He cried of a sudden, this great good old Pope,

When they appealed in last resort to him,

'I have mastered the whole matter: I nothing doubt«

Though Guido stood forth priest from head to heel,

Instead of, as alleged, a piece of one, —

And further, were he, from the tonsured scalp

To the sandaled sole of him, my son and Christ's.

Instead of touching us by finger-tip

As you assert, and pressing up so close

Only to set a blood-smutch on our robe, —

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I and Christ would renounce all right in him. Am I not Pope, and presently to die, And busied how to render my account, And shall I wait a day ere I decide On doing or not doing justice here ? Cut off his head to-morrow by this time, Hang up his four mates, two on either hand, And end one business more!'

So said, so done — Rather so writ, for the old Pope bade this, I find, with his particular Chirograph, His own no such infirm hand, Friday night; And next day, February Twenty Two, Since our salvation Sixteen Ninety Eight, — Not at the proper head-and-hanging-place On bridge-foot close by Castle Angelo, Where custom somewhat staled the spectacle, (T was not so well i' the way of Rome, beside, The noble Rome, the Rome of Guido's rank) But at the city's newer gayer end, — The cavalcading promenading place Beside the gate and opposite the church Under the Pincian gardens green with Spring, *Neath the obelisk Hwixt the fountains in the Square, Did Guido and his fellows find their fate, All Rome for witness, and — my writer adds — Remonstrant in its universal grief, Since Guido had the suffrage of all Rome."

The contents of this book have been reduced by Mrs. Ott to an abstract of the story which L enla^ed .gain with quotatk»» fa>m the pamphlet found in London. Though this is

easily accessible either in Mrs. Orr's Handbook or in the Camberwell edition of Browning, it is given here in order that the subject under dis-cussion may be as fully illustrated as possible.

"There lived in Rome in 1679 Pietro and Violante Com-parini, an elderly couple of the middle class, fond of show and good living, and who in spite of a fair income had run considerably into debt. They were, indeed, at the period in question, in receipt of a papal bounty, employed in the relief of the needy who did not like to beg. Creditors were pressing and only one expedient suggested itself: they must have a child; and thus enable themselves to draw on their capital, now tied up for the benefit of an unknown heir-at-law. The wife conceived this plan and also carried it out, without taking her husband into her confidence. She secured beforehand the infant of a poor and not very reputable woman, announced her expectation, half miraculous at her past fifty years, and became, to all appearance, the mother of a girl, the Francesca Pompilia of the story.

"When Pompilia had reached the age of thirteen, there was also in Rome Count Guido Franceschini, an impover-ished nobleman of Arezzo and the eider of three brothers, of whom the second, Abate Paola, and the third, Canon Girolamo, also play some part in the story. Count Guido himself belonged to the minor ranks of the priesthood and had spent his best years in seeking preferment in it. Pre-ferment had not come and the only means of building up the family fortunes in his own person, was now a moneyed wife. He was poor, fifty years old, and personally un-attractive. A contemporary chronicle describes him as short, thin, and pale, and with a projecting nose. He had nothing to offer but his rank; but in the case of a very obscure

PICTURES OF SOCIAL LIFE 317

hetress, this might suffice, and such a one seemed to present herseif in Pompilia Comparini. He heard of her at the local center of gossip, the barber's shop; received an exag-gerated estimate of her dowry and made proposals for her hand; being supported in his suit by the Abate Paul. They did not, on their side, understate the advantages of the con-nection. They are, indeed, said to have given as their yearly income a sum exceeding their capital, and Violante was soon dazzled into consenting to it. Old Pietro was more wary. He made inquiries as to the state of the Count's for-tune, and declined, under plea of his daughter's extreme youth, to think of him as a son-in-law.

"Violante pretended Submission, secretly led Pompilia to a church, the very church of San Lorenzo in Lucina, where four years later the murdered bodies of all three were to be displayed, and brought her back as Count Guido's wife. Pietro could only accept the accomplished fact; and he so far resigned himself to it that he paid down an instalment of his daughter's dowry, and made up the deficiency by transferring to the newly married couple all that he actually possessed. This left him no choice but to live under their roof, and the four removed together to the Franceschini abode at Arezzo. The arrangement proved disastrous; and at the end of a few months Pietro and Violante were glad to return to Rome, though with empty pockets, and on money lent them for the journey by their son-in-law.

"We have conflicting testimony as to the cause of this rupture. The Governor of Arezzo, writing to the Abate Paul in Rome, lays all the blame of it on the Comparini, whom he taxes with vulgär and aggressive behavior; and Mr. Browning readily admits that at the beginning there may have been faults on their side. But populär judgment, as well as the balance of evidence, were in favor of the opposite view; and curious details are given by Pompilia and by a

servant of the family, a sworn witness on Pompilia's trial, of the petty cruelties and privations to which both parents and child were subjected.

"So much, at all events, was clear; Violante's sin had over-taken her; and it now occurred to her, apparently for the first time, to cast off its bürden by confession. The moment was propitious, for the Pope had proclaimed a jubilee in honor of his eightieth year and absolution was to be had for the asking. But the Church in this case made conditions. Absolution must be preceded by atonement. Violante must restore to her legal heirs that of which her pretended mother-hood had defrauded them. The first step toward this was to reveal the fraud to her husband; and Pietro lost no time in making use of the revelation. He repudiated Pompilia, and with her all claims on her husband's part. The case was carried into court. The Court decreed a compromise. Pietro appealed from the decree, and the question remained unsettled.

"The chief sufferer by these proceedings was Pompilia herseif. She already had reason to dread her husband as a tyrant — he to dislike her as a victim; and his discovery of her base birth, with the threatened loss of the greater part of her dowry, could only result, with such a man, in increased aversion towards her. From this moment his one aim seems to have been to get rid of his wife, but in such a manner as not to forfeit any pecuniary advantage he might still derive from their union. This could only be done by convicting her of infidelity; and he attacked her so furiously and so per-sistenüy, on the subject of a certain Canon Giuseppe Capon-sacchi, whom she barely knew, but whose attentions he declared her to have challenged, that at last she fled from Arezzo with this very man.

"She had appealed for protection against her husband's violence to the Archbishop and to the Governor. She had

PICTURES OF SOCIAL LIFE 319

striven to enlist the aid of his brother-in-law, Conti. She had implored a priest in confession to write for her to her parents and induce them to fetch her away. But the whole town was in the interest of the Franceschini, or in dread of them. Her prayers were useless, and Caponsacchi, whom she had heard of as a 'resolute man/ appeared her last resource. He was, as she knew, contemplating a journey to Rome; an opportunity presented itself for speaking to him from her window, or her balcony, and she persuaded him, though not without difficulty, to assist her escape and con-duct her to her old home. On a given night she slipped away from her husband's side and joined the Canon where he awaited her with a carriage. They traveled day and night tili they reached Castelnuovo, a village within four hours of the journey's end. There they were compelled to rest, and there also the husband overtook them. They were not to-gether at the moment; but the fact of the elopement was patent; and if Franceschini had killed his wife there, in the supposed excitement of the discovery, the law might have dealt leniently with him. But it suited him best for the time being to let her live. He procured the arrest of the fugitives, and after a short confinement on the spot, they were conveyed to the New Prisons in Rome (Carceri Nuove) and tried on the charge of adultery.

"It is impossible not to believe that Count Guido had been working toward this end. Pompilia's verbal Communications with Caponsacchi had been supplemented by letters, now brought to him in her name, now thrown or let down from her window as he passed the house. They were written, as he said, on the subject of the flight, and, as he also said, he burned them as soon as read, not doubting their authenticity. But Pompilia declared, on examination, that she could neither write nor read; and setting aside all presumption of her veracity, this was more than probable. The writer of the

parini's house; and having left Biagio Agostinelli and Domenico Grambasini at the gate, he instructed one of the others to knock at the house-door, which was opened to him on his declaring that he brought a letter from Canon Capon-sacchi at Civita Vecchia. The wicked Franceschini, sup-ported by two other of his assassins, instantly threw himself on Violante Comparini, who had opened the door, and flung her dead upon the ground. Pomilia, in this extremity, ex-tinguished the light, thinking thus to elude her assassins, and made for the door of a neighboring blacksmith, crying for help. Seeing Franceschini provided with a lantern, she ran and hid herseif under the bed, but being dragged from under it, the unhappy woman was barbarously put to death by twenty-two wounds from the hand of her husband, who, not content with this, dragged her to the feet of Comparini, who, being similarly wounded by another of the assassins, was crying, * confession. 9

"At the noise of this horrible massacre people rushed to the spot; but the villains succeeded in flying, leaving behind, however, in their haste, one his cloak, and Franceschini his cap, which was the means of betraying them. The unfor-tunate Francesca Pompilia, in spite of all the wounds with which she had been mangled, having implored of the Holy Virgin the grace of being allowed to confess, obtained it, since she was able to survive for a short time and describe the horrible attack. She also related that after the deed, her husband asked the assassin who had helped him to murder her if she were reatty dead; and being assured that she was, quickly rejoined, let us lose no time, but return to the vineyard; 1 and so they escaped. Meanwhile the police (Forza) having been called, it arrived with its chief officer (Bargello), and a confessor was soon procured, together with a surgeon

1 "Villa" is often called "vineyard" or "vigna," on account of the vineyard attached to it.