Pacchiarotto/Cenciaja
CENCIAJA.
Ogni cencio vuol entrare in bucato.Italian Proverb.
May I print, Shelley, how it came to passThat when your Beatrice seemed—by lapseOf many a long month since her sentence fell—Assured of pardon for the parricide,—By intercession of staunch friends, or, say,By certain pricks of conscience in the PopeConniver at Francesco Cenci's 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 CroceMurdered 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 verbosityThat lies before me, into some few wordsOf English, and illustrate your superbAchievement by a rescued anecdote,No great things, only new and true beside?As if some mere familiar of a houseShould venture to accost the group at gazeBefore its Titian, famed the wide world through,And supplement such pictured masterpieceBy whisper, "Searching in the archives here, I found the reason of the Lady's fate,And how by accident it came to passShe 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 meRelating how the penalty was paidBy one Marchese dell' Oriolo, calledOnofrio Santa Croce otherwise,For his complicity in matricideWith Paolo his own brother,—he whose crimeAnd flight induced "those three words—She must die."Thus I unroll you then the manuscript.
"God's justice"—(of the multiplicityOf such communications extant still,Recording, each, injustice done by GodIn person of his Vicar-upon-earth,Scarce one but leads off to the self-same tune)—"God's justice, tardy though it prove perchance,Rests never on the track until it reachDelinquency. In proof I cite the caseOf Paolo Santa Croce."
Many timesThe youngster,—having been importunateThat Marchesine Costanza, who remainedHis 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 lustOf 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, thenAuthoritative lord, acquainting himTheir mother was contamination—wroughtLike hell-fire in the beauty of their HouseBy dissoluteness and abandonmentOf 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 behove a son,—things haply so,— To act as honour 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—the bound by birthTo hear God's voice in primogeniture—Paolo, who kept his mother companyIn her domain Subiaco, straightway daredHis whole enormity of enterpriseAnd, falling on her, stabbed the lady dead;Whose death demonstrated her innocence,And happened,—by the way,—since Jesus ChristDied to save man, just sixteen hundred years.Costanza was of aspect beautifulExceedingly, and seemed, although in ageSixty about, to far surpass her peersThe coëtaneous dames, in youth and grace.
Done the misdeed, its author takes to flight, Foiling thereby the justice of the world:Not God's 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 the 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 Cenci's 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 Beatrice's pardon vanished straight, And she endured the piteous death.
Now seeThe 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 endeavour had been usedTo catch the aforesaid Paolo, all in vain—"Make perquisition" quoth our Eminence,"Throughout his now deserted domicile!Ransack the palace, roof and floor, to findIf haply any scrap of writing, hidIn nook or corner, may convict—who knows?—Brother Onofrio of intelligenceWith brother Paolo, as in brotherhoodIs but too likely: crime spawns everywhere!"
And, every cranny searched accordingly, There comes to light—O lynx-eyed Cardinal!—Onofrio's unconsidered writing-scrap, The letter in reply to Paolo's 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 foot-ball, child's 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 presidentIn person, but inquisitor as well,Nor trust the bye-work to a substitute:Bids him not, squeamish, keep the bench, but scrubThe floor of Justice, so to speak,—go tryHis best in prison with the criminal;Promising, as reward for bye-work doneFairly on all-fours, that, success obtainedAnd crime avowed, or such connivencyWith crime as should procure a decent death—Himself will humbly beg—which means, procure—The Hat and Purple from his relativeThe 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 Deserved the prize: now, punctual at his place, Played Judge, and now, assiduous at his post, Inquisitor—pressed cushion and scoured plank, Early and late. Noon's fervor and night's chill, Nought 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, plungedInto the vault where daylong night is ice,There passed his eight hours on a stretch, content,Examining Onofrio: all the stressOf all examination steadilyConverging into one pin-point,—he pushedTentative now of head and now of heart.As when the nuthatch taps and tries the nutThis 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 what 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 mindGrown imbecile by darkness, solitude,And one vivacious memory gnawing thereAs when a corpse is coffined with a snake:—Fatigued Onofrio into what might seemAdmission that perchance his judgment gropedSo blindly, feeling for an issue—aughtWith semblance of an issue from the toilsCast of a sudden round feet late so free,He possibly might have envisaged, scarceRecoiled 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 courseTaken 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-decreeWas intimated to Onofrio, all Man could do—that did he to save himself.'Twas much, the having gained for his defenceThe Advocate o' the Poor, with natural helpOf many noble friendly persons fainTo disengage a man of family,So young too, from his grim entanglement.But Cardinal Aldobrandini ruledThere must be no diversion of the law.Justice is justice, and the magistrateBears not the sword in vain. Who sins must die.
So, the Marchese had his head cut off In Place Saint Angelo beside the Bridge, With Rome to see, a concourse infinite; 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 behaviour as regardsA parent of no matter what the sex,Bidding each son take warning from himself.Truly, it was considered in the boyStark staring lunacy, no less, to snapSo plain a bait, be hooked and hauled a-shoreBy such an angler as the Cardinal!Why make confession of his privityTo Paolo's 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 parent's shame As Christian ought, by aid of Holy Church!Bury it in a convent—ay, beneathEnough dotation to prevent its ghostFrom troubling earth!'" Mere saying thus,—'t is plain,Not only were his life the recompense, But he had manifestly proved himself True Christian, and in lieu of punishment Been praised 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 As this from mouth to ear went saucily: "Taverna's cap is dyed in what he drewFrom Santa Croce's 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 father's 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 folks urged "What made Aldobrandini, hound-like staunch, Hunt out of life a harmless simpleton?"The answer was—"Hatred implacable,By reason they were rivals in their love."The Cardinal's desire was to a dameWhose favour was Onofrio's. Pricked with pride,The simpleton must ostentatiouslyDisplay a ring, the Cardinal's love-gift,Given to Onofrio as the lady's gage;Which ring on finger, as he put forth handTo draw a tapestry, the CardinalSaw and knew, gift and owner, old and young;Whereon a fury entered him—the fireHe 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 beThat pressed too closely on him with a crowd, And 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 Cardinal's antichamber. Mark and mend, Ye youth, by this example how may greed Vainglorious operate in worldly souls!'
So ends the chronicler, beginning with "God's 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?