II. MR. BROWNING ON THE SANTA CROCE CASE AND ON FARINACCI'S FAILURE IN THE DEFENCE OF THE CENCI MR. ROBERT BROWNING'S latest volume of poems1 contains one which is perhaps the most valuable poetic illustration. of Shelley issued since Walter Savage Landor published, in The Last Fruit off an Old Tree, his superb Five Scenes. Mr. Browning's Cenciaja, as the reading world is now well aware, deals with the episode of Paolo Santa Croce, the matricide, whose crime had so disastrous a bearing on the issue of the Cenci tragedy. The main fact, on which Shelley places no very marked stress, though he introduces it, is that, when the fate of Beatrice and her brother and step-mother still hung in the balance, Paolo Santa Croce killed his mother and made good his escape,-whereon the Pope became absolutely inflexible in his resolution that the three guilty Cenci should die. Mr. Browning details in Cenciaja the motives, not only of Paolo Santa Croce, but also of Cardinal Aldobrandino, the Pope's nephew, in incriminating Paolo's brother, Onofrio Santa Croce, and hunting him down to execution; and it is a noteworthy thing that this same Cardinal whose deadly hatred availed to bring Onofrio Santa Croce to a disgraceful death, had also, indirectly, ruined the Cenci family. It was he who benefitted so largely by the continuance of Count Francesco Cenci in his high-priced crimes; and, but for him, "the wickedest man on record," as Landor calls Cenci, would probably have perished before his daughter had been set 1 Pacchiarotto and How he Worked in Distemper with other Poems. By Robert Browning. London,-Smith, 1 in the dire necessity of compassing his death. How far Aldobrandino may have been interested in extinguishing the family, of whom only the innocent Bernardo escaped with difficulty, it were hazardous to surmise; but probably his enormous influence with the Pope would be against them. The story of Onofrio and this 'diabolical dignitary of the Church is within every one's reach, and should be read by all who are interested in those by-paths of history which have fed the imaginations of our greatest poets; but a further comment on the Cenci story, which has not, as far as I know, had any opportunity of finding its way about among Shelley students,-must be here recorded. Having occasion to write to Mr. Browning on another matter connected with this edition of Shelley's works, I asked him the precise value we were to attach to the terminal aja in the title of his poem, a title, by the way, which is followed by the Italian proverb, Ogni cencio vuol entrare in bucato; and I received the following answer. 19, Warwick Crescent, W. July 27, '76. DEAR Mr. BUXTON FORMAN, There can be no objection to such a simple statement of fact as you have inserted, if it seem worth inserting. "Fact," it is.-Next:-" aia" is generally an accumulative yet depreciative termination: "Cenciaia" = a bundle of rags = a trifle. The proverb means "every poor creature will be for pressing into the company of his betters," and I used it to deprecate the notion that I 1 Mr. Browning obtained the facts of the Santa Croce case from a MS. volume of memorials of Italian crime, in the possession of Sir John Simeon, who published from it, in the Series of the Philobiblon Society, a version of the Cenci narrative differing in a few particulars from that which inspired Shelley to write his tragedy. 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," 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) "poenâ ultimi supplicii, non quia ex intervallo occidi mandavit insidiantem suo honori, sed quia ejus exceptionem non probavit ibi-Prout, et idem firmiter sperabatur de sorore Beatrice si propositam excusationem probasset, prout non probavit." That is, she was 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 will I assent; and that which I ought to deny, that will I deny." Here is another Cenciaja! Yours very sincerely, ROBERT BROWNING. 1 This reference is, of course, not to Mr. Browning's noble poem, The Ring and the Book, but to the "old square yellow book," giving the actual details of the "Roman murder case on which the poem is founded. Mr. Browning has furnished me with an extract of the whole passage bearing on this subject in the pleading of Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis in favour of Guido Franceschini; and I find that this "Advocate of the Poor" convicts Farinacci of inconsistency; for he shews that, in one place, that distinguished Doctor had adduced the decapitation of Beatrice as an argument in favour of the extreme penalty, for murder under exceptional circumstances, whereas, in another, he had alleged that she suffered "not because, after lapse of time, she caused one who had designs on her honour to be slain, but because she did not prove her plea in mitigation." III. CAPTAIN MEDWIN'S ACCOUNT OF EMILIA VIVIANI AND "EPIPSYCHIDION." IN the second volume of Medwin's Life of Shelley, is an account of the Lady Emilia Viviani, the authenticity of which I know of no reason for doubting. By way of introduction to the subject, this strange biographer minutely describes, under the mysterious designation of "Pthe Italian Professore" through whose means Shelley became acquainted with the Viviani: it is unnecessary to quote this description, more especially as Medwin assures us that, in Mrs. Shelley's Valperga, “P——” is drawn to the life. He omits to say under what name; but doubtless those who are curious on the subject of this worthless "Professore" will turn both to Medwin's Life and to Valperga, find out the character, and institute a comparison. Meanwhile, all that need be said of "P", by way of further preface to Medwin's account of Emilia Viviani, is that his pleasantness and talent commended him to the Shelleys, at whose house in Pisa he was at one time an habitué, and that he was 'amico di casa and confessor to a noble family, one of the most distinguished for its antiquity of any in Pisa, where its head then filled a post of great authority." This personage, the Count Viviani, had, Medwin says, two grown-up daughters by a first marriage, and, in his old age, made a second marriage, with a lady who subsequently induced him to immure his daughters in two convents. The Professor,1 [I now extract from Capt. Medwin's Life, 1 Medwin's narrative, in his own words, extends to p. 431. Of the pre vious portion of the narrative, about "P" and Count Viviani, I pre Vol. II, pp. 60 to 80] who had known them from infancy, and been their instructor in languages and polite literature, made the Contessinas frequent subjects of conversation. He told us that the father was not over rich, owing to his young wife's extravagance; that he was avaricious withal, and did not like to disburse their dowries, which, as fixed by law, must be in proportion to the father's fortune, and was waiting till some one would take them off his hands without a dote. He spoke most enthusiastically of the beauty and accomplishments of Emilia, the eldest, adding, that she had been confined for two years in the convent of St. Anna. "Poverina," he said, with a deep sigh, "she pines like a bird in a cage-ardently longs to escape from her prison-house,-pines with ennui, and wanders about the corridors like an unquiet spirit; she sees her young days glide on without an aim or purpose. She was made for love. Yesterday she was watering some flowers in her cell-she has nothing else to love but her flowers—“ Yes,’ said she, addressing them, you are born to vegetate, but we thinking beings were made for action-not to be penned up in a corner, or set at a window to blow and die." A miserable place is that convent of St. Anna,” he added, "and if you had seen, as I have done, the poor pensionnaires shut up in that narrow, suffocating street, in the summer, (for it does not possess a garden,) and in the winter as now, shivering with cold, being allowed nothing to warm them but a few ashes, which they carry about in an earthen vase, you would pity them." This little story deeply interested Shelley, and Pproposed that the poet and myself should pay the captive a visit in the parloir. The next day, accompanied by the priest, we came in sight of the gloomy, dark convent, whose ruinous and ferred to give an abstract, as it is serious; and I have only made a few trifling omissions, which are indicated thus [...]. |