The story of Violante di Cordona exhibits the same disregard for moral law and the same calm acceptance of death. As the Duchess of Palliano and wife of Don Giovanni Caraffa, this beautiful woman was much courted at her palace in Naples, where she lived in a most sumptuous way with crowds of courtiers and admirers about her. Through the jealousy of Diana Brancaccio, one of her ladies in waiting, who is described as "hot-tempered and tawny-haired," the fair duchess was doomed to a sad fate, and all on account of the handsome Marcello Capecce, who had been her most ardent suitor. In Mrs. Linton's words, "his love for Violante was that half religious, half sensual passion which now writes sonnets to my lady as a saint, and now makes love to her as a courtesan." But, whatever his mode of procedure, Diana loved him, while he loved only Violante, and he proved to be a masterful man. The duke was away in exile on account of a disgraceful carouse which had ended in a street fight, and Violante was spending the time, practically alone, in the quiet little town of Gallese, which is halfway between Orvieto and Rome. In this solitude, Violante and Marcello were finally surprised under circumstances which made their guilt certain, and final confession was obtained from Marcello after he had been arrested and subjected to torture. Thereupon the duke sought him out in his prison, and stabbed him and threw his body into the prison sewer. The pope, Paul IV., was the duke's uncle; and upon being told what his nephew had done, he showed no surprise, but asked significantly: "And what have they done with the duchess?" Murder, under such circumstances, was considered justifiable throughout all Italy--and it must be confessed that the modern world knows something of this sentiment. On one occasion, a Florentine court made this reply to a complaint which had been lodged against a faithless wife: Essendo vero quanto scriveva facesse quello che conveniva a cavaliere di honore! [Things being true as he has written them, he is allowed to do that which is befitting a gentleman of honor!] It was not the pope alone who proposed punishment for Violante, for the duke had a brother, Cardinal Alfonso Caraffa, who spoke of it continually, and finally, in the month of August, in the year 1559, Palliano sent fifty men, with Violante's brother, the Count Aliffe, at their head, to go to her at Gallese and put her to death. A couple of Franciscan monks gave her what little comfort there was to be extracted from the situation, and she received the last sacrament, though stoutly protesting her innocence the while. Then the bandage was put over her eyes, and her brother prepared to place about her neck the cord with which she was to be strangled; finding it too short for the purpose, he went into another room to get one of more suitable length. Before he had disappeared through the doorway, Violante had pulled the bandage from her eyes, and was asking, in the most matter-of-fact way, what the trouble was and why he did not complete his task. With great courtesy, he informed his sister what he was about, and a moment later returned, tranquilly readjusted bandage and cord, and then, fitting his dagger hilt into a loop at the back, he slowly twisted it about until the soul of the duchess had fled. Not a harsh or hasty word was spoken, there was no hurry and no confusion, all was done quietly and in order. The marvel is that these highly emotional people, who are usually so sensitive to pain, could have shown such stoical indifference to their fate.
The case of Beatrice Cenci is one of the best known in all this category of crime, and here again is shown that sublime fortitude which cannot fail to excite our sympathy, to some degree at least. Francesco Cenci was a wealthy nobleman of such profligate habits and such evil ways that he had twice been threatened with imprisonment for his crimes. Seven children he had by his first marriage, and at his wife's death he married Lucrezia Petroni, by whom he had no children. Francesco had no love for his sons and daughters, and treated them with such uniform cruelty that he soon drove from their hearts any filial affection they may have felt for him. His conduct grew so outrageous that finally, in desperation, his family appealed to the pope for relief, begging that Cenci be put to death, so that they might live in peace; but the pontiff, who had already profited by Cenci's wealth and saw further need for his gold, refused to comply with so unusual a request, and made matters so much the worse by allowing the father to find out what a desperate course the children had adopted. One of the two daughters was finally married, and Cenci was compelled by the pope to give her a suitable dot; but Beatrice still remained at home, and the father kept her in virtual imprisonment that she might not escape him and cause him expense as the other girl had done. The indignities heaped upon her and upon the wife and sons were such that they all revolted at last and plotted to take his life. Cardinal Guerra, a young prelate, who, it seems, was in the habit of visiting the house in Cenci's absence, and who may have been in love with Beatrice, was taken into the secret and all the details were arranged. Two old servants, who had no love for their harsh master, were prevailed upon to do the deed, and were secretly admitted by Beatrice to the castle known as the Rock of Petrella, where Cenci had taken his family for the summer months--all this was in the year 1598. The father's wine had been drugged so that he fell into a deep sleep, and again it was Beatrice who took the assassins into the room where he lay. At first they held back, saying that they could not kill a man in his slumber; but Beatrice would not allow them to abandon the task, so great was her power over them.
BEATRICE CENCI
After the painting by L. Valles
The larger share of responsibility was put upon Beatrice; but she, it appeared, had been the one most sinned against, and certain unmentionable villainies in her father's conduct, which were darkly hinted at, aroused the pity of the Holy Father to such an extent that he gave them all comparative liberty, with the hope of ultimate acquittal. At this juncture of affairs, a certain nobleman, Paolo Santa Croce, killed his mother as the result of a family quarrel; and the pope, newly angered against the Cenci family because he considered it to have set the example for this parricidal mania, ordered them all to be executed according to the terms of the original judgment, with the exception of the youngest son, Bernardo, who was given a free pardon. The sentence was executed on the following day, Saturday, May 11, 1599, on the bridge of Saint Angela.
Beatrice has shown all along a surprising firmness of character, and a more detailed description of her appearance cannot fail to be of interest. Leigh Hunt gives the following pen portrait, which he ascribes to some Roman manuscript: "Beatrice was of a make rather large than small. Her complexion was fair. She had two dimples in her cheeks, which added to the beauty of her countenance, especially when she smiled, and gave it a grace that enchanted all who saw her. Her hair was like threads of gold; and because it was very long, she used to fasten it up; but when she let it flow freely, the wavy splendor of it was astonishing. She had pleasing blue eyes, of a sprightliness mixed with dignity, and, in addition to all these graces, her conversation had a spirit in it and a sparkling polish which made every one in love with her."
Such was the girl who overcame the compassion of these hirelings by recounting to them again the story of their own wrongs and those of the family; and when they still refused, she said: "If you are afraid to put to death a man in his sleep, I myself will kill my father; but your own lives shall not have long to run." So, in they went, and the deed was done in a terrible manner: a long, pointed nail was thrust through one of the eyes and into the brain and then withdrawn, and the body was tossed from an upper balcony into the branches of an elder tree below, that it might seem that he had fallen while walking about in the night. The murderers were given the reward agreed upon, and, in addition, Beatrice bestowed upon the one who had been least reluctant a mantle laced with gold, which had formerly belonged to her father. The next day, when Francesco Cenci's body was discovered, there was pretence of great grief in the household, and the dead man was given most elaborate burial. After a short time, the family went back to Rome and lived there in tranquillity, until they were startled one day by accusations which charged them with the death of the father. Indignant denials were made by all, and especially by Beatrice, but in vain; they were submitted to torture, and the shameful truth was finally confessed. The pope at first ordered them to be beheaded; but so great was the interest taken in the case by cardinals and members of the nobility, that a respite of twenty-five days was granted in which to prepare a defence. The ablest advocates in Rome interested themselves in the matter, and, when the case was called, the pope listened to the arguments for four hours. The plan of defence was to compare the wrongs of the father with those of the children, and to see which had suffered the more. The larger share of responsibility was put upon Beatrice; but she, it appeared, had been the one most sinned against, and certain unmentionable villainies in her father's conduct, which were darkly hinted at, aroused the pity of the Holy Father to such an extent that he gave them all comparative liberty, with the hope of ultimate acquittal. At this juncture of affairs, a certain nobleman, Paolo Santa Croce, killed his mother as the result of a family quarrel; and the pope, newly angered against the Cenci family because he considered it to have set the example for this parricidal mania, ordered them all to be executed according to the terms of the original judgment, with the exception of the youngest son, Bernardo, who was given a free pardon. The sentence was executed on the following day, Saturday, May 11, 1599, on the bridge of Saint Angelo, the three victims being Lucrezia the wife, Beatrice, and the older brother, Giacomo, all the other sons excepting Bernardo being dead at this time. Part of the Cenci estates were conveyed to one of the pope's nephews, and became the Villa Borghese, wherein may still be seen portraits of Lucrezia Petroni and Beatrice Cenci, the latter by the well-known Guido Reni. It is generally believed that this portrait was painted while Beatrice was in prison, and Shelley has given the following appreciative description of it in the preface to his tragedy, The Cenci, which is based upon this story, and which he wrote in Rome in 1819:
"There is a fixed and pale composure upon the features, she seems sad and stricken down in spirit, yet the despair thus expressed is lightened by the patience of gentleness. Her head is bound with folds of white drapery, from which the yellow strings of her golden hair escape and fall about her neck. The moulding of her face is exquisitely delicate, the eyebrows are distinct and arched, the lips have that permanent meaning of imagination and sensibility which suffering has not repressed and which it seems as if death scarcely could extinguish. Her forehead is large and clear, her eyes, which we are told were remarkable for their vivacity, are swollen with weeping and lustreless, but beautifully tender and serene. In the whole mien there are simplicity and dignity which, united with her exquisite loveliness and deep sorrow, are inexpressibly pathetic. Beatrice Cenci appears to have been one of those rare persons in whom energy and gentleness dwell together without destroying one another; her nature was simple and profound. The crimes and miseries in which she was an actor and a sufferer are as the mask and the mantle in which circumstances clothed her for her impersonation in the scene of the world."
To-day, the story is still an oft-told tale in Rome, the portrait of la Cenci is known by all, and all feel pity for her sad fate. However great her crime may have been, it should be taken into account that it was only after "long and vain attempts to escape from what she considered a perpetual contamination, both of mind and body,"--as Shelley puts it,--that she plotted the murder for which she was beheaded; so great was the provocation, that all can pity if pardon be withheld.