■ y ^> yy-y^^y >y y r9 ' ig^ii^^ w * *'
 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE 
 
 /•)(
 
 The Country of 
 "The Ring and the Book"
 
 MADONNA, by FRA FILIPPO LIPPI. 
 In the Pitti Palace, Florence.
 
 The Country of "The 
 Ring and the Book 
 
 BY 
 
 SIR FREDERICK TREVES, BART. 
 
 G.C.V.O., C.B., LL.D. 
 
 Serjeant-Surgeon to H.M. the King ; Surgeon-in-Ordinary to 
 H.M. Queen Alexandra ; Author of "The Other Side 
 of the Lantern," "The Cradle of the Deep, 
 "The Land that is Desolate," etc. 
 
 5> 
 
 » 
 
 With a Frontispiece in Colour and io6 Illustrations, 
 Plans and Maps 
 
 CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD 
 
 London, New York, Toronto and Melbourne 
 
 1913
 
 '■^^919
 
 TO MY DAUGHTER 
 
 MRS, CHARLES DELME RADCLIFFE, 
 OF ROME
 
 PREFACE 
 
 The purpose of this book is to describe the scene of 
 a story of two hundred years ago, the story of the 
 Franceschini, husband and wife, and of the priest who 
 came between them. It is of these three that the tale 
 is told in the wondrous poem of "The Ring and the 
 Book," a poem as brilliant, as pathetic, as lurid and as 
 dolorous as a winter sunset. 
 
 Few need to be reminded that the story is true, and 
 that the poet follows the ancient record with as much 
 exactness as the limner of a missal copies a passage of 
 Holy Writ. 
 
 It is a tragic story, since of the six chief persons 
 who took part in it four died a violent death, a fifth 
 vanished to distant lands and was heard of no more, 
 while one remained alone to end his days haunted by 
 the face of a dead woman, who, when she lived, had 
 called him " far beyond friend." 
 
 The scene of this tale of the Franceschini is laid in 
 the heart of Italy, in that gracious stretch of valley 
 and hill which lies between Florence and Rome. To 
 the traveller, no part of Italy is more familiar, unless it 
 be the country of the lakes or the northern sea beaches. 
 It is with no widely scattered region that the narrative 
 is concerned, but rather with little more than a winding 
 road between two towns, with the towns themselves, 
 with a church or so and certain streets, and with a small 
 
 vii
 
 Preface 
 
 posting-inn, where a meagre upper room still rings with 
 the voices of tragedy, for here the husband, wife and 
 priest met, face to face, for the last time. 
 
 It may be of service to point these places out, lest 
 some, interested in the story, should pass them by as 
 if they were like other roads, other streets and other 
 churches, or stay to admire an altar-piece without know- 
 ing that they stand on the spot where Pompilia was 
 married to her woeful husband, and where her body lay 
 after her troublous life was over. Elsewhere, from utter 
 lack of knowing, we may pass, all unheeding, by the 
 banks of "the crystal dykes at Camelot," ramble over 
 the spot where bloomed the roses of Rosamond's Bower, 
 and watch, with apathy, the holiday folk who trample 
 the English beach first touched by the prows of 
 Caesar's galleys. 
 
 The story covers an unquiet period of four years, 
 the direful part of which fell in the time of mid-winter, 
 while that which was more happy to recall came, like 
 a break of blue sky, in the heyday of spring. 
 
 The history of Pompilia has been already briefly told 
 
 in prose. The sole excuse for repeating it again, and 
 
 in greater detail, is to bring the actual incidents of the 
 
 narrative into immediate association with the places of 
 
 their happening. It can be of small interest to read 
 
 of Castelnuovo if the events that came to pass in the 
 
 little town are either unfamiliar or indistinct. The 
 
 field of Waterloo, even with its obtrusive monuments, 
 
 is no more than a piece of eligible farm land to the 
 
 uninformed, while no study of the circumstances of 
 
 the battle can compare in vividness with a reading of 
 
 the event made on the spot. 
 
 viii
 
 Preface 
 
 When all that was needed for the purpose of this 
 book had been done it was impossible to resist the 
 temptation of setting forth, in the gorgeous language 
 of the poem, what Robert Browning himself made of 
 the people of the story. As they appear in the old 
 documents, they are a company of faded folk, distinc- 
 tive in a way, but with as little human warmth in them 
 as animates a row of costumes hanging in a playhouse 
 cupboard. Browning breathed into these ghostly men 
 and women the breath of life. They do not pretend 
 to exact portraiture, neither was the Perseus of Ben- 
 venuto Cellini a portrait, nor Raphael's " Madonna with 
 the Goldfinch." The Pompilia and Caponsacchi of the 
 poem may never have walked the streets of Arezzo, 
 but in some place, and at some time, they must have 
 trod the highway of the world together, must have suf- 
 fered as did the lonely woman and the man who was 
 " the lover of her life," must have faced their fate 
 with the same untrammelled spirit, and so have added 
 some lustre to the chronicle of human endeavour and 
 devotion. 
 
 FREDERICK TREVES. 
 
 Thatched House Lodge, 
 
 Richmond Park, Surrey, 
 October^ I913- 
 
 IX
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Part One — The Story 
 
 I. The Old Yellow Book . 
 
 II. The Comparini Family in Rome 
 
 III. A Quiet Wedding . 
 
 IV. Palace Life at Arezzo . 
 V. Violante's Confession 
 
 VI. PoMPiLiA AT Bay 
 
 VII. The Flight with the Priest 
 
 VIII. The Scene at Castelnuovo . 
 
 IX. After Castelnuovo 
 
 X. GuiDo Decides to Visit Rome 
 
 XI. The Murder in the Via Vittoria 
 
 XII. Guido's Arrest 
 
 XIII. The Death of Pompilia . 
 
 XIV. The Trial for Murder . 
 XV. The Execution in the Piazza del Popolo 
 
 XVI. The Epilogue 
 
 PAGE 
 
 3 
 
 9 
 
 i^ 
 
 23 
 28 
 
 35 
 44 
 48 
 
 52 
 
 59 
 66 
 
 73 
 76 
 
 79 
 88 
 
 93 
 
 Part Two — The Country of the Story 
 
 ROME. 
 
 1. The Via Vittoria 97 
 
 2. The House of the Comparini loi 
 
 3. The Neighbourhood of the Via Vittoria . . 105 
 
 4. The Street ok the Lion's Mouth . . . .111 
 
 5. The Ursuline Convent 114 
 
 6. San Lorenzo in Lucina 118 
 
 7. Le Scalette 126 
 
 8. The New Prisons 130 
 
 9. The Route to the Place of Execution . .138 
 10. The Piazza del Popolo I45 
 
 150 
 
 II. THE INN AT MERLUZZA 
 
 XI
 
 Contents 
 
 l-AGE 
 
 III. AREZZO i6i 
 
 IV. THE FLIGHT TO ROME. 
 
 1. The Road ....... 
 
 2. From Arezzo to Perugia .... 
 
 3. From Perugia to Foligno by Assisi 
 
 4. The Journey Across the Hills and Beyond 
 
 TO Castelnuovo 
 
 5. Castelnuovo 
 
 6. From Castelnuovo to Rome 
 
 7. How THE People of the Story Looked . 
 
 171 
 179 
 
 193 
 
 207 
 217 
 
 231 
 
 235 
 
 Part Three — The People of the Story as they appear 
 
 IN THE Poem 
 
 I. The Comparini 245 
 
 II. The Franceschini 249 
 
 III. POMPILIA 250 
 
 IV. Caponsacchi 263 
 
 V. GuiDo 270 
 
 VI. The Pleaders 283 
 
 VII. The Pope 287 
 
 Appendix 299 
 
 Index 301 
 
 Xll
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 The photographs used in illustration of the text were taken by the 
 Author at various seasons of the year, and, for the most part, at or about 
 the actual date in the calendar on which occurred the episode with which the 
 particular scene is associated. 
 
 Madonna, by Fra Filippo Lippi .... Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 1. Via Vittoria, Rome ....... 8 
 
 2. Via Vittoria, Rome ....... lO 
 
 3. Robert Browning's House in the Via Bocca di Leone, Rome 10 
 
 4. The Corso, as it would appear in Pompilia's Time. . 14 
 
 5. The Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina, Rome . . 16 
 
 6. The Lion by the Door of the Church of San Lorenzo in 
 
 Lucina, Rome ....... 18 
 
 7. The Courtyard of the House of the Knights of Malta, Via 
 
 Condotti, Rome . . . . . . .18 
 
 8. Le Scalette, Rome ....... 20 
 
 9. The Tramp on the Steps of the Convent of the Good 
 
 Shepherd ........ 20 
 
 10. The Via Giulia, Rome ....... 24 
 
 11. Via Giulia and Church of Santa Maria della Mortc, Rome 28 
 
 12. The River Side of the Via Giulia, Rome 
 
 13 ~ 
 
 •The New Prisons in the Via Giulia, Rome 
 
 14. j 
 
 15. The Back of the New Prisons in the Via Giulia, Rome 
 
 16. Map of Modern Rome ...... 
 
 17. The Via del Governo Vecchio, Rome 
 
 18. The Old House in the Via del Governo Vecchio, Rome 
 
 19. Church of the Agonizzanti, Rome .... 
 
 30 
 32 
 
 36 
 38 
 40 
 
 44 
 
 48 
 
 xiu
 
 List of Illustrations 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 20. The Piazza Navona, Rome ...... 50 
 
 21. The Fountain, " II Moro," Piazza Navona, Rome . . 54 
 
 22. The Piazza della Rotonda and Pantheon, Rome . . 56 
 
 23. The Piazza del Popolo, Rome ..... 60 
 
 24. The Piazza del Popolo, Rome {frovn an Engraving by 
 
 Piranesi) . . ...... 60 
 
 25. The Church of Santa Maria del Popolo, Rome . . 64 
 
 26. The Porta del Popolo, Rome ..... 66 
 
 27. On the Road from Rome to the Ponte Milvio . . 70 
 
 28. Fountain by the Roadside on the Way to the Ponte Milvio 70 
 
 29. The Ponte Milvio, Rome ...... 72 
 
 30. The Ponte Milvio, Rome [froin Venuti's " Antichita di 
 
 Roma," 1763) ....... 72 
 
 31. The Inn at La Storta connected with Guido's Flight . 76 
 
 32. The Inn at Merluzza where Guido was arrested . . 80 
 
 33. Map of Arezzo ........ 82 
 
 34. A Street in Arezzo ....... 84 
 
 35. The Church of Santa Maria della Pieve, Arezzo . . 88 
 
 36. The Door of the Church of Santa Maria della Pieve, Arezzo 90 
 
 37. The Old Canale Inn, Arezzo ...... 90 
 
 38. The San Clemente Gate, Arezzo ..... 92 
 
 39. The City Wall, Arezzo, just inside the San Clemente Gate 98 
 
 40. The Town Wall of Arezzo, from the outside . . . 100 
 
 41. The Wall of Arezzo by the Torrione .... 100 
 
 42. Map of the Country between Arezzo and Rome . . 104 
 
 43. Vitiano, whence came the Four Bravoes . . . 106 
 
 44. A Typical Wayside Cottage on the Route of Pompilia's 
 
 Flight . . . . . . . . . 106 
 
 45. Castighon Fiorentino ....... 108 
 
 46. Old House at Camoscia . . . . . .112 
 
 47. The Walls of Cortona ....... 114 
 
 48. A Street in Cortona ....... 118 
 
 49. Posting-Road Map from Arezzo to Foligno by Assisi . 120 
 
 50. The Frontier between Tuscany and the States of the 
 
 Church, near Terontola ...... 124 
 
 51. The First GUmpse of Lake Trasimene .... 126 
 
 xiv
 
 List of Illustrations 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 52. Lake Trasimene, from the High Road 
 
 53. Passignano, on Lake Trasimene 
 
 54. Tuoro, from the High Road . 
 
 55. Lake Trasimene, from the High Road 
 
 56. The Old Posting-Inn, Torricella 
 
 57. Torricella ..... 
 
 58. The Castle at Magione, from the High Road 
 5g. View from Magione 
 
 60. Perugia, from the Road to the North 
 
 61. Niccolo Pisano's Fountain, Perugia 
 
 62. Perugia : A Dark Entry 
 
 63. The Ponte San Giovanni over the Tiber 
 
 64. The First View of the Tiber in the process of Flight 
 
 65. The Bridge at Bastia crossed in the process of Flight 
 
 66. Distant View of the Church of St. Mary of the Angels 
 
 67. Assisi, from the Church of San Francesco 
 
 68. Assisi, from the Road ...... 
 
 6g; The Old Posting-House at Santa Maria degli Angeli 
 
 70. The Town Wall of Spello and the Foligno Road . 
 
 71. The Gate of Spello ...... 
 
 72. Foligno 
 
 73. The Cathedral of San Feliziano, Foligno 
 
 74. Trevi, from the High Road . 
 
 75. Posting-Road Map from FoHgno to Rome by Castelnuovo 
 
 76. Spoleto ........ 
 
 77. The Road between Spoleto and Strettura 
 
 78. The Old Bridge crossed between Spoleto and Strettura 
 
 79. A Street in Spoleto 
 
 80. The Castle above Strettura . 
 
 81. The Posting-House at Strettura 
 
 82. Narni ..... 
 
 83. A Street in Narni 
 
 84. The Main Road through Otricoli, from the Old Post-House 
 
 85. The Ponte Felice across the Tiber 
 
 86. The Ruined Castle near the Ponte FeHce, Borghetto 
 
 87. The Gorge at Civita Castcllana .... 
 
 XV 
 
 The Gate into the Town from the Perugia Road 184 
 
 188 
 192 
 194 
 198 
 202 
 204 
 208 
 208 
 212 
 216 
 220 
 224 
 228 
 232 
 236 
 
 128 
 130 
 130 
 
 134 
 136 
 
 140 
 144 
 146 
 
 150 
 152 
 156 
 160 
 162 
 164 
 166 
 166 
 170 
 172 
 176 
 180
 
 List of Illustrations 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 88. A Street in Civita Castellana ..... 
 
 89. The Valley to the South of Civita Castellana, from the 
 
 Road to Rome ....... 
 
 90. Monte Soracte, from the Walls of Civita Castellana 
 91; Monte Soracte, from the High Road near Rignano 
 
 92. Rignano, the last Stopping-Place before Castelnuovo 
 
 93. The Town of Castelnuovo ...... 
 
 94. The Inn at Castelnuovo where Pompilia and Caponsacchi 
 
 were discovered by Count Guido 
 ' 95. The Interior of the Inn at Castelnuovo . 
 
 96. The Little Chapel between the Post-House and the Town, 
 
 Castelnuovo ..... 
 
 97. A Street in Castelnuovo 
 
 98. The Piazza del Duomo, Castelnuovo 
 
 99. The Pretura at Castelnuovo . 
 100. Castelnuovo : The Steps by which Pompilia 
 
 the Prison ..... 
 loi. The Piazza Garibaldi, Castelnuovo 
 
 102. The Back of the Pretura, Castelnuovo . 
 
 103. The Roman Campagna, from the High 
 
 Borghettaccio .... 
 
 104. The Bridge between Prima Porta and Rome 
 
 105. Plan of Rome in 1676 .... 
 
 106. Plan of Rome in 1676 .... 
 
 ascended to 
 
 Road near 
 
 238 
 
 244 
 246 
 250 
 
 254 
 256 
 
 260 
 264 
 
 268 
 272 
 274 
 276 
 
 280 
 282 
 284 
 
 288 
 292 
 296 
 300 
 
 XV
 
 Part One 
 THE STORY
 
 THE COUNTRY OF 
 "THE RING AND THE BOOK 
 
 )) 
 
 THE OLD YELLOW BOOK 
 
 A BUNDLE of old legal documents, collected by a 
 lawyer curious in the dry sophistries of his call- 
 ing, proved to be the unlikely material out of 
 which was fashioned one of the finest, most imaginative, 
 and most human poems of the nineteenth centur}'-, a 
 work, which has been described as "the most precious 
 and profound spiritual treasure that England has pro- 
 duced since the days of Shakespeare."* 
 
 The lawyer was Monsignore Francesco Cencini of 
 Florence, and the object of his concern was a certain 
 murder trial held at Rome in 1698, in which the principal 
 accused was Count Guido Franceschini of Arezzo. It is 
 evident that the man of law was a friend of the Frances- 
 chini. Probably he had had legal dealings with the 
 family, for Arezzo is only fifty-one miles distant from 
 Florence. Moreover, he sent from Florence "proofs 
 on behalf of Count Guido," but they arrived too late, 
 since by the time of their coming the nobleman was 
 merely " Signor Guido of blessed memory." Whatever 
 Cencini's interest may have been, his curiosity in the case 
 was acute, for he persuaded at least three of his legal 
 friends in Rome to send him every possible paper that 
 bore in any way upon the trial. 
 
 * The A then a urn. 
 3
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 In response to his demand, these correspondents 
 forwarded to their " most illustrious and most worshipful 
 Signor and Patron" no fewer than eighteen documents, 
 partly in print, partly in manuscript, heavy with words, 
 swollen with arguments, "instruments," citations and de- 
 positions, set out for the most part in the Latin tongue, 
 and with as little coherence as would be found in the 
 clamour of eighteen disputatious persons all speaking at 
 once. These eighteen papers Signor Cencini arranged 
 in such order they were capable of, indexed the whole, 
 and then caused the collection to be bound in vellum 
 with some care. 
 
 What happened to the book when the Florentine 
 lawyer died none can tell. It vanished from the view of 
 the world for one hundred and sixty years, lying, it may 
 be, on some forgotten shelf, with none to finger its pages 
 nor read its crabbed print. It may well have spent half a 
 century in a worm-eaten muniment chest, or another fifty 
 years among the cobwebs of a lumber room. Whatever 
 its hiding place or its adventure, it emerged at last into 
 the light of day — into the sunlight, indeed, of an Italian 
 summer— in the year 1860. It was then that Robert 
 Browning found it on an open stall in a market square of 
 Florence, among a jumble of minor relics of abandoned 
 homes and odds and ends of rubbish. 
 
 He purchased it for eightpence. It was a curious 
 book for a poet to seize upon, a volume, one would 
 have thought, as little likely to interest him as would an 
 old Italian "Herbal" or a treatise on geometry. Yet out 
 of these records of a criminal court, out of this mass of 
 hard-hammered, bitter, unfeeling stuff, he produced a 
 poem palpitating with life, full of tenderness and passion, 
 
 4
 
 The Old Yellow Book 
 
 where, within a vast fabric of stern wisdom and learned 
 argument, was enshrined the exquisite, small figure of an 
 adorable, pathetic woman. 
 
 Such is the " square old yellow book " which figures 
 in the title of the poem. It lies now in safe keeping in 
 the Library of Balliol College, Oxford, a book with 
 " crumpled yellow covers," " small quarto size," just as 
 Browning describes it in his prelude.* 
 
 Two additional documents concerned with the famous 
 case have come to light since Browning found the Yellow 
 Book in 1860. One of these is a contemporary account in 
 manuscript dealing with the general facts of the tragedy 
 and with the execution of the criminals. It was dis- 
 covered in London by one of Browning's acquaintances, 
 who, knowing the poet's interest in the subject, sent 
 it to him. The MS., which contains many new par- 
 ticulars, was evidently written some years after the story 
 had closed. t The second document, also in manu- 
 script, was discovered in a library in Rome. It shows 
 evidence of having been written at a later period than 
 the pamphlet just referred to. It was published in 
 English by W. Hall GriflSn in the Monthly Review for 
 November, 1900. Of this document Browning had no 
 knowledge. J 
 
 For years, no doubt, the great murder case was talked 
 about and mused over, its details becoming fainter and 
 
 * The most convenient edition of " The Old Yellow Book" is that edited 
 by Charles W, Hodell, and published as a volume of " Everyman's Library," 
 London. 
 
 t It is reproduced in the Miscellanies of the Philobiblion Society, 186S-9, 
 and is made free use of in "The Ring and the Book." 
 
 I Both of these interesting manuscripts arc to be found in the appendix of 
 "The Old Yellow Book" in "Everyman's Library."
 
 The Country of " The Ring and the Book " 
 
 fainter in each telling, until it faded into the limbo of 
 
 mere legend. It may be surmised that for a century 
 
 or more before Browning's time the whole story had 
 
 been already blotted out and forgotten. The people 
 
 who had played their parts in the vivid tragedy had 
 
 passed into nothingness and had vanished as utterly as 
 
 if they had never been. As the poet writes : 
 
 " What was once seen, grows what is now described, 
 Then talked of, told about, a tinge the less 
 In every fresh transmission ; till it melts. 
 Trickles in silent orange or wan grey 
 Across our memory, dies and leaves all dark." 
 
 Browning brings the tale from out of the dark into the 
 day again, lifts the curtain of the past and shows a 
 brightly illumined stage with a drama in progress, brings 
 the very actors once more to life, and has them act 
 their tragedy, scene by scene, not precisely as the world 
 in Rome witnessed it, but as he would have it presented 
 to the greater world of art, of sentiment and of morality. 
 The fragments he pieced together to produce this 
 wondrous reconstruction are to be found scattered 
 amongst the bundles of papers in the Yellow Book. 
 These confusing documents circle and flutter within the 
 vortex of a whirlwind of words, words which arise from 
 an arena full of heated combatants. In the midst the 
 lawyers — a stalwart party of four, two on either side — 
 fight like gladiators armed with buckler and sword. 
 Around them crowd their supporters, friends, and half 
 the people of Rome. If one of the four makes a sharp 
 legal thrust with his blade, it is met, with a thud, by 
 the blunt shield of his opponent. Cases, judgments, 
 precedents and rulings, drawn from the whole arsenal 
 of the law, are snatched up and hurled about like missiles. 
 
 6
 
 The Old Yellow Book 
 
 The sentence of a court in ancient Rome is answered 
 by a passage from the Scriptures ; while the solemn 
 decision of an august judge is wafted away by a flippant 
 line of verse from Ovid. The whole battlefield of the 
 Law, extending far back into dim time, is raked over to 
 find stones to throw. The fighters yell, the one against 
 the other, as the missiles fly. 
 
 Above the din of the contest there is ever to be heard 
 the same mean tale told over and over again. The words 
 that tell it rise and fall like the notes of a recurrent 
 tune, now pathetic, now horrible, now played in rhythm, 
 now in discord, but ever discernible the while as the 
 one same direful melody. The atmosphere is hissing 
 with abuse, with spiteful denunciations, with partisan 
 praise, wdth brazen lies and shabby innuendoes, until at 
 last it comes about that, if all that is said be true, 
 on the one side and the other, there is not a soul in 
 the entire company, from the noble lady to the house- 
 boy, who does not emerge from the fray blackened with 
 some degree of infamy — save, perhaps, one only, a genial 
 priest, the easy-going canon, Conti, who died before 
 the great tragedy was played to the end. 
 
 Bandied to and fro in the thick of the crowd is the 
 figure of a girl of seventeen, delicate and sweet to 
 look upon. She is now lifted aloft by lusty arms 
 above the heads of the rabble, is now mercilessly 
 trampled underfoot, is now dragged through the dirt 
 like a half-strangled thief, and is now raised high on 
 a sunny pedestal beyond the reach of harm. There is 
 in the crowd, too, the strong figure of a man who 
 stands unmoved in the midst of the squalid riot. It 
 would seem that no assault can shake him, nor can 
 
 7
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 any eddy of violence drag him from his post. It is 
 to him that the girl with the fawn-like eyes holds out 
 her hand, and when the crowd has vanished and all is 
 still, it is by his side that she rests. 
 
 The story, so far as it can be made out from the 
 twenty documents and so far as it can be extracted 
 from among the mass of contradictions and dis- 
 crepancies which they present, is, briefly, as follows.
 
 1. — VIA VITTOKIA, ROME. 
 To the left are the barred windows of the Ursuline Convent.
 
 II 
 
 THE COMPARINI FAMILY IN ROME 
 
 IN the year 1693 there lived, in a quiet street in 
 Rome, a family of the name of Comparini. They 
 were people of the middle class and of comfortable 
 means. The husband, Pietro Comparini, at the time 
 when the story opens, was about sixty-four years of 
 age. He followed no occupation, and it is not known 
 that he had ever adopted any trade or profession. A 
 native of Florence and therefore a foreigner, he 
 appears to have been an indolent, easy-going, "inde- 
 pendent gentleman," who graciously left the affairs of 
 his household to the charge of his wife. According 
 to those who Avished him ill, he was a spendthrift, 
 and in debt. Indeed, these enemies of his did not 
 shrink from saying that he was so poor as to be 
 in receipt of secret doles from the Papal Charities. 
 There seems to have been but little truth in this, for 
 the last will and testament of Pietro Comparini, 
 completed shortly before he died, shows that he 
 was possessed of quite comfortable means. Other 
 traducers affirmed that he was addicted to vulgar 
 company and the frequenting of taverns. It is a hard 
 saying, but, although there are no grounds upon 
 which to dispute the libel, there were circumstances 
 in his life and times which make it conceivable that 
 he would find his "warmest welcome at an inn." 
 
 9
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 The wife, Violante, who was some three years 
 younger than her husband, was a Roman born. She 
 was a masterful woman, with a shrewd eye for business, 
 and a capacity for scheming of a quite exceptional 
 order. Modern cynics would have called her a 
 "managing woman." In domestic strategy she was 
 bold and resourceful, fearless as a lion, quick and crafty 
 as a fox. She was furthermore haughty, and, on occa- 
 sion, arrogant. Another quality she had, which enabled 
 her to use her special talents with full effect : she was 
 endowed with a preternatural volubility of speech. 
 
 The only child was a daughter, Pompilia, who, at 
 the time the narrative begins, was thirteen years old. 
 The sole record, so far, in the life of this little girl is 
 that she was born on July 17th, and baptised on 
 July 23rd, 1680, in the parish church of San Lorenzo 
 in Lucina, on which occasion the curate, one Barto- 
 lomeo Mini, bestowed upon her the sonorous title of 
 Francisca Camilla Victoria Angela Pompilia Com- 
 parini, a name like the ripple of a brook expressed in 
 words. 
 
 Pietro's estate consisted of some realisable property, 
 and of an income derived from certain trust funds, 
 which funds, in the event of his dying without children, 
 would pass into the hands of strangers. This latter 
 detail, although commonplace enough, is noteworthy, 
 because it proved to be the beginning of trouble. 
 Indeed, this item in the covenant of a trust led to 
 tragedy and murder. 
 
 The Comparini family lived in the Via Vittoria, a 
 narrow street leading out of the northern end of the 
 Corso. 
 
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 o
 
 The Comparini Family in Rome 
 
 In the same year of grace 1693, there was to be 
 found in the ancient Tuscan town of Arezzo — some 
 154 miles north of Rome — certain reHcs of the noble 
 family of the Franceschini. The house consisted then 
 of the Donna Beatrice Franceschini, a widow of 
 advanced years,* of her three sons, and one 
 daughter. 
 
 The eldest son, Paolo — a man of forty-three — ^was a 
 priest with the style of abate. He resided at Rome, 
 where he held the office of Secretary to Cardinal Lauria. 
 The second son, Girolamo, who was four years younger 
 than this brother, was a priest and a canon of the Church 
 of Santa Maria della Pieve at Arezzo. He lived with 
 his mother in the Franceschini Palace. The third son, 
 Guido, was thirty-five years of age at the time when 
 this story begins. He followed no avocation, and as 
 his other brothers were priests he assumed the title of 
 Count and took his place in the household at Arezzo 
 as the head of the family. The only daughter, Porzia, 
 had already married a member of the distinguished 
 family of Aldobrandini, and had apparently taken her 
 leave of the old city.f The household, therefore, at 
 Arezzo, at the time dealt with, consisted of the widowed 
 countess, the Canon Girolamo, and the Benjamin of 
 the family, the idle Guido. 
 
 The reverend brother in Christ, the Abbe Paolo 
 Franceschini, occupies a prominent place in the Old 
 Yellow Book. He moves through the scenes of the 
 
 * She was born in 163 i, and would therefore have been sixty-two years old 
 in 1693. She died in 1701. 
 
 t Porzia was born in January, 165 3, and was thus the second in age in tl)c 
 family. Guide's baptismal entry is January, 1658. 
 
 II
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'* 
 
 drama as a dim, unquiet, sinister figure, whose foot- 
 steps were a portent of ill. He was a man of parts, 
 a consummate trickster, a Machiavelli of the back 
 streets and a coward to boot. His position in Rome 
 was good. His patron, the Cardinal Lauria, died in 
 November, 1693, whereupon Paolo secured the lucra- 
 tive post of secretary to the Order of the Knights 
 of St. John of Malta. The headquarters of the Order 
 in Rome were in the Via Condotti, a street very close 
 to the Via Vittoria. The abbe had also a villa, or 
 garden house with a vineyard, near the Ponte Milvio, a 
 little river suburb on the fringe of the Campagna, about 
 two miles distant from the walls of Rome. 
 
 Of Canon Girolamo very little is said in the Yellow 
 Book, but that very little — if the facts be true — is very 
 bad. Inasmuch as he lacked the keen intellect of his 
 brother Paolo, his wickedness was somewhat elemental 
 and wanting in finish. As a scoundrel, he never rose 
 above mediocrity, limiting his efforts to listening at 
 doors, to kicking women and to plotting their ruin. 
 
 Count Guido Franceschini was a woeful degenerate 
 who combined some of the shrewdness of the epileptic 
 with the domestic attributes of the Bushman. He was 
 a craw^ling ruffian, meaner than a robber of children 
 and malicious as a wounded snake. His dwarfed brain 
 seems to have been drugged by misery of his own 
 making and to be capable only of devising fresh poisons 
 for the shafts of hatred and revenge. He reduced 
 cruelty to an art, made greed the fetish of his worship 
 and developed to the best of his restricted ability the 
 accomplishment of lying. He does not seem to have 
 possessed any rudimentary virtue except patience, the 
 
 12
 
 The Comparini Family in Rome 
 
 patience of a coward to wait until the back of liis 
 victim is turned. 
 
 It will not be a matter of surprise that Guido is 
 described in the Yellow Book as presenting " a dis- 
 position more gloomy than pleasant." Those who 
 knew him in the life speak of him as a man of low 
 stature, thin and pallid, with a prominent nose, black 
 hair and heavy beard. A less exact observer remem- 
 bers him as being "ordinary in appearance and of 
 weak temperament." A drawing of Count Franceschini 
 exists which was made on the day of his execution.* 
 He there appears as a dazed melancholic, such as might 
 be seen lolling aimlessly in the courtyard of a mad- 
 house. The portrait is that of a ruffian, not of the 
 fine, slouch-hatted brigand or pirate type, but rather of 
 a kind that in modern times is discovered by a cook 
 skulking in an area. 
 
 This nobleman had found a place, strange to say, in 
 the service of a distinguished prelate. Cardinal Nerli. 
 In what particular manner he assisted the cardinal is 
 not known. By the time, however, that the present 
 narrative commences, he was no longer in this pious 
 household, but was loafing about Rome looking for 
 something to do. 
 
 Had the Franceschini been rich they might have 
 flaunted it in Arezzo with the best, for their long 
 lineage gave them a claim to consideration. They 
 might, indeed, have been the great people of the city 
 and have lorded it over both the bishop and the 
 governor. But, unhappily, the Franceschini had fallen 
 
 * This appears in Vol. X. of " The Poetical Works of Robert Browning." 
 London, 1889.
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 upon evil times. Although they occupied a palace, 
 they were desperately poor and were indeed driven to 
 straits to live. One can imagine the cavern-like palazzo 
 with its vaulted hall and its solemn stair, a stair so 
 wide as to give the single figure mounting it an aspect 
 of unutterable loneliness. One can fancy its shuddering 
 passages, its echo-haunted suites of empty rooms, where 
 the plaster that had fallen from ceilings, still bright 
 wdth Venuses and Cupids, made grave-like heaps on 
 the creaking floor ; where the light, shot through the 
 gap left by a shutter dropping from its hinge, showed 
 bare walls with dull square patches, whence pictures 
 had been taken, one by one, to fill the empty treasury, 
 with perhaps just one tall portrait left of some arrogant 
 count — alone in the gloom — whose canvas was too 
 mouldy or too frayed to fetch a soldo. 
 
 It was fated that Count Guido and Pompilia Com- 
 parini should meet. Their coming together was the 
 outcome of no romantic circumstance, but was brought 
 about by a hairdresser — a female hairdresser to boot. 
 
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 A QUIET WEDDING 
 
 GUIDO, as has been already said, was mooning 
 about Rome without a copper in his pocket, 
 seeking for something to do. It was natural 
 that his clever elder brother, the prosperous abbe, should 
 take him in hand in order to promote this laudable 
 endeavour. Paolo appears to have come to the opinion 
 that Guido was not destined by Nature for intellectual 
 work, nor indeed for work of any kind. It was evident, 
 therefore, that his best prospect of advancement, his . 
 best chance of obtaining comfort in life and money for 
 the wretched house in Arezzo, lay in marrying a lady 
 of wealth. Now a stunted nobleman of gloomy ap- 
 pearance and weak temperament, with an unattractive 
 person, vicious habits and an empty purse, is not a 
 Romeo for every Juliet. Paolo, indeed, had a heavy 
 task before him when he undertook to " do something " 
 for this palefaced, bearded brother of his. 
 
 Happily there was in the Piazza Colonna, half-way 
 down the Corso, a hairdresser's shop kept by a woman. 
 Guido found this establishment a convenient loafing 
 place. It was central, it was cool, and much fre- 
 quented ; there would be a bench to sit upon, people 
 to talk to, the deft work of scissors and comb to watch 
 and nothing to pay. On one summer's morning he 
 confided to the hairdresser that he was thinking of 
 
 15
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 entering the holy estate of matrimony. Possibly he 
 spoke of love, of Dante and Beatrice, of two hearts that 
 beat as one, and of such other raptures as his limited 
 invention would permit. Certainly he spoke of Arezzo, 
 and here his talent for lying served him well, for he 
 explained to the coifTeuse, while she was sweeping up 
 hair from the floor, that he had a noble palace in 
 Tuscany with varied possessions and eligible estates, as 
 well as a lineage as ancient as the Barberini. To the 
 description of the amenities of the Franceschini property 
 his brother, the abbe, no doubt added some illuminating 
 details. 
 
 It so happened, while this was in progress, that 
 Violante Comparini of the Via Vittoria realised that she 
 had a daughter and that daughters marry, and, being 
 aware that the hairdresser's shop in the Piazza Colonna 
 was a favourable lounging place for gentlemen of quality, 
 she whispered in the hairdresser's ear some pleasant things 
 about Pompilia, and especially about Pompilia's financial 
 prospects. Pompilia, it is true, was only thirteen years 
 of age, but Violante was a woman who looked ahead. 
 As a liar, Violante was no match for the Franceschini 
 brothers, but she did her best and met with quite en- 
 couraging success. The hairdresser cannot fail to have 
 been impressed with the amount of wealth laid up in 
 quarters where it would be little suspected, and later in 
 her life, when light fell upon her, she must have often 
 asked with Pilate, "What is truth?" 
 
 At an appropriate moment Paolo came forward and 
 arranged with the coiffeuse for an introduction to the 
 Comparini family. He went farther, and promised to 
 the wig-maker the sum of 200 scudi (which is in English 
 
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 A Quiet Wedding 
 
 currency ;^40) on the day that his illustrious brother led 
 Signorina Pompilia to the altar. From such knowledge 
 of the Franceschini family as the Yellow Book affords 
 it would be safe to conclude that this ^40 was never 
 paid. No doubt the abbe, when dilating upon the 
 splendours of his house, might have owned, with a 
 sigh, that at one time he had hoped that his younger 
 brother would find a bride among the noble ladies who 
 graced the many palaces of Rome. From such a noble 
 dame, escorted to her carriage by bowing lackeys, it 
 was certainly a deep descent to a slip of a girl of 
 thirteen, living in a back street, and probably at the 
 moment playing in the gutter. 
 
 The preliminary interview arranged by the coiffeuse 
 took place no doubt in the best parlour of the house in 
 the Via Vittoria. It was not the count and his pro- 
 spective father-in-law who met, because, in a matter of 
 this kind, poor Pietro, the frequenter of taverns, counted 
 for nothing. The interview was between Violante and 
 the Abbe Paolo. It must have been an interview of 
 severe interest, this fencing bout in lying between a 
 voluble old lady and a foxy priest, this match with 
 loaded dice between two finished tricksters, both 
 genially unscrupulous and frankly without conscience. 
 The abbe won in the end by sheer weight of lying. 
 Having dwelt at some length upon the high standing 
 of the family at Arezzo, he— confirmed at each point by 
 Guido — proceeded to give details of the purely fictitious 
 estate upon which that honoured family subsisted. His 
 brother's income, the abbe said, in a gush of open- 
 hearted confidence, was £340 per annum. As a matter of 
 fact, Guido's entire capital did not amount to that sum. 
 c 17
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 At a later stage in the proceedings Pietro appears to 
 have been informed of the happy, and indeed brilliant, 
 future which was in store for his daughter. For some 
 reason, he was not unduly elated. He had probably made 
 inquiry among his tavern gossips, with the result that he 
 was a little dubious as to the financial status of his wife's 
 noble friend. To convince him on this point, Guido 
 produced an exact schedule or inventory of his varied 
 possessions, from which it appeared that his income was 
 precisely as stated. The concocting of this fantastic 
 document must have given Paolo and the expectant 
 bridegroom infinite amusement. One can imagine how 
 they chuckled when the abbe added another vineyard 
 or two to the list, and then threw in an ancient castle 
 " let to a careful tenant," together with a mediaeval don- 
 jon which was profitable as a lime-kiln. It was all very 
 diverting, and no doubt the customers at the hairdresser's 
 must have wondered why the brothers so often nudged 
 one another as they sat together, and then shook with 
 suppressed mirth, and why such a simple expression as 
 " five fine olive groves " convulsed them with laughter. 
 Later on, an examination of the rent rolls, as preserved 
 in the public records of Arezzo, revealed the fact that 
 Count Guido had no settled property of any kind. 
 
 The question of Guido's wealth having been satis- 
 factorily disposed of, the next matter discussed by the 
 amiable abbe was the question of the exact dowry that 
 would be bestowed upon Pompilia, who was probably 
 at that moment nursing a doll on the doorstep. Here 
 again Pietro was difficult to deal with, difficult and 
 very obstinate, so obstinate that, although the business 
 was at last completed to the satisfaction of both Violante 
 
 18
 
 6. -THE LION BY THE DOOR OF THE CHURCH OF SAN 
 LORENZO IN LUCINA, ROME. 
 
 7.— THE COURTYARD OF THE HOUSE 
 
 OF THE KNIGHTS OF MALTA, 
 
 VIA CONDOTTI, ROME.
 
 A Quiet Wedding 
 
 and Paolo, it was evident that it had needed great 
 pressure to obtain the suspicious man's consent. 
 
 The entire property of the Comparini family 
 amounted to £2,400. A portion of this sum was re- 
 presented by excellent house property, and the rest by 
 certain funds in trust. Pietro at last, after struggling 
 no doubt like a heifer at the door of a slaughter-house, 
 agreed to bestow upon Pompilia an immediate dowry 
 of £520, and to hand over the rest of his possessions 
 to the noble count on condition that the count main- 
 tained him and his wife, for the rest of their days, at 
 the ancestral home in Arezzo. To Violante this was 
 an arrangement of great charm. It implied an inti- 
 mate association with the nobility and gentry, a vicarious 
 elevation to the peerage, life in a palace, great deference 
 and respect when she walked abroad, the enjoyment 
 of exalted and refined society, and, above all, the 
 spectacle of her daughter enthroned as a countess. 
 Pietro probably wondered whether the sum doled out 
 to him by the unconvivial Guido would enable him to 
 assume such a position in the wine shops of Arezzo 
 as his new phase of existence demanded. He evidently 
 moved with caution, because when the secrets of all 
 hearts were laid bare it became known that of the 
 immediate dowry of £520 Pietro had only paid in 
 actual cash the sum of £140. It also appeared that 
 Guido was so penniless at the time that he was unable 
 to meet the expenses incident to the drawing up of 
 his own marriage settlement, and that these charges 
 had been defrayed by the yielding Pietro. 
 
 When all the talking and whispering and rustling of 
 papers were over, and when Violante had gloated long 
 
 19
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 enough over Guido's inventory of the estate and his 
 Hst of the family jewels, Pompilia, with her face newly 
 washed and her hair freshly "done," was probably 
 called into the parlour and presented to her future 
 husband— the gloomy man with a hooked nose and 
 a black beard— who would interest her as little as a 
 hyaena would interest a kitten. 
 
 The wedding took place in the parish church of 
 San Lorenzo in Lucina. According to the former of the 
 two manuscripts, discovered after Browning chanced 
 upon the Yellow Book, Pompilia was " secretly married 
 during December, 1693." No part of this statement is 
 correct, for the marriage did not take place in secret 
 nor was it in the month of December. There has 
 been, up to the present, no definite pronouncement 
 as to the exact date of the ceremony. Browning, fol- 
 lowing the passage just quoted from the manuscript, 
 makes the marriage (with great artistic effect) take 
 place clandestinely and within shut doors, "one dim 
 end of a December day." It was kept secret, the 
 poem says, from Pietro, while the ceremony itself was 
 performed by Guido's brother the abbe. According 
 to the second of the two manuscripts (the one Browning 
 never saw) the ceremony was performed, without the 
 knowledge of the father and without notice, some time 
 in the month of December. Mr. Charles W. Hodell, 
 in his commentary on the Yellow Book, states that the 
 marriage took place in December, but against the day 
 of the month he puts a note of interrogation. Mr. 
 Hall Griffin, in the appendix to his "Life of Robert 
 Browning,"* writes: "The real date of the marriage is 
 
 * London, 1910, p. 271. 
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 A Quiet Wedding 
 
 August or September, 1693." This is the nearest to 
 the truth. 
 
 I have had the opportunity of seeing the original 
 entry in the marriage register of the Church of San 
 Lorenzo in Lucina, and have obtained an official certi- 
 fied copy of the same. This is reproduced at the end 
 of this volume. It will be seen from the entry that 
 the marriage was celebrated on September 6th, 1693 
 (the day was a Sunday). It will further be seen that 
 it was carried out with every proper observance and 
 formality, so that in no way could it have been de- 
 scribed as secret or clandestine. The ceremony was 
 performed not by the Abate Paolo, but by the curate 
 of the church. The banns were announced on three 
 preceding Sundays in July, viz. : July 5th, 12th and 
 19th, and therefore some two months before the actual 
 marriage took place. It is stated further in the entry 
 that no legitimate impediment to the union was offered. 
 As the church is close to the Via Vittoria and was the 
 parish church of the Comparini, it is inconceivable 
 that Pompilia could have been married without the 
 knowledge of her father. It is significant that in the 
 legal pleadings set forth at the trial of Count Guido 
 no mention is made by either side of a secret marriage. 
 
 Had the wedding been efifected clandestinely it is 
 safe to assume that the counsel for the defence would 
 have made use of the fact to show how the simple count 
 had been trapped by his nefarious mother-in-law. The 
 long interval that had elapsed between the publication of 
 the banns and the marriage ceremony certainly suggests 
 that there was some hitch in the arrangements or that 
 the announcement was premature. 
 
 21
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 As to the precise ages of the "happy couple" it 
 will be observed that Guido was thirty-five and Pompilia 
 thirteen years and two months. 
 
 It was a quiet wedding. The bride and bridegroom 
 parted at the church door. Guido probably strolled 
 down to the hairdresser's shop to tell the news. Violante 
 and Pompilia would walk home by way of the Corso, 
 Violante flushed, puffed up and very garrulous, Pompilia 
 silent and full of wonder, yet possibly occupied by the 
 hope that some boy or girl she knew would see her 
 go by in her new frock. 
 
 There then followed an interval of great peace that 
 lasted for three uneventful months. Guido went back 
 to Arezzo to set his house in order and to prepare for 
 the reception of his bride and her parents. He would 
 have his days fully occupied, clearing away the dust of 
 years, dragging old furniture out of forgotten places, 
 stuffing up rat holes and adjusting scraps of tapestry 
 over the worst breaches in the walls. 
 
 As for her ladyship, she no doubt returned to her 
 dolls. One may believe that, in the quiet of her room, 
 she would place these puppets in a row, would show 
 them the gold ring on her finger, would tell them of 
 the strange doings at the church, and of the ugly old 
 man with a hooked nose who had frightened her with 
 his horrid eyes. There is every reason to suppose that 
 on the day after her wedding the Countess Francesca 
 Pompilia Franceschini resumed her games in the street 
 with her children friends. 
 
 2Z
 
 IV 
 
 PALACE LIFE AT AREZZO 
 
 IN December, 1693, Pompilla and her parents, with 
 their miscellaneous belongings, moved to Arezzo. It 
 was an ill time to travel, for December is often bleak 
 and melancholy, while the roads about that season are, 
 as I learned to my cost, at their worst. The old couple 
 left the Via Vittoria with the belief that they would 
 never see Rome again, but that they would end their 
 days in the Tuscan city, in the peaceful atmosphere 
 of a palace and in the company of their daughter and 
 her children. 
 
 They had not been long in Arezzo before trouble 
 began. We are told from one source that Violante was 
 arrogant, violent, and generally offensive, that she en- 
 deavoured to possess herself of the domestic ke5^s and to 
 oust the dowager countess from her position as chatelaine 
 of the palace. From the glimpses the Yellow Book 
 affords of Signora Comparini in various walks of life, 
 it is conceivable that there was truth in this information. 
 Moreover, it was further said that Pietro showed an 
 aversion to the company and conversation of people of 
 refinement, and "began to frequent daily all the taverns 
 of the town," The Comparini had made early com- 
 plaint that they were " denied their old free life," and 
 in this lamentation the voice of Pietro is assuredly to 
 be heard. 
 
 23
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'' 
 
 As a counterblast to the charge of arrogance and the 
 seizure of the keys, the Comparini protested that they 
 had been so basely deceived that their finer natures 
 had received a shock, and, furthermore, that they 
 had, in general terms, been hoaxed, trapped and 
 robbed. The house thus became "a perfect goose- 
 yard cackle of complaint." It may be taken as 
 certain that Violante, with that fluency of speech with 
 which she was endowed, declared that neither she 
 nor her beloved husband would " stand it." She 
 asserted, and no doubt with considerable power of 
 voice, that the Palazzo Franceschini was a whited 
 sepulchre, a palace of penury, as empty as a cavern 
 and as cheerless. 
 
 There were constant squabbles and brawls, alter- 
 cations that ended in the slamming of doors, and dis- 
 putes that were concluded by the throwing of things 
 out of window. Moreover, the members of this dis- 
 tinguished family on occasion struck one another. A 
 maid-servant who had displayed a partisan spirit was 
 kicked at least twice, while neighbours had heard, 
 through open windows, the sound of a slap on the 
 face, followed by a like sound extracted apparently from 
 another face. 
 
 It was left to one, Angelica Battista, aged thirty-five, 
 fully to illumine the Franceschini menage. She laid open 
 the entire palace, from attic to cellar, as if it had been 
 a doll's house with a hinged front that could be operated 
 like the door of a cupboard. Angelica was once a 
 domestic servant in the Franceschini employ. As she 
 had been dismissed with abruptness and ignominy, and 
 had been both struck and kicked by her master and 
 
 24
 
 Palace Life at Arezzo 
 
 mistress at the moment of her departure, she may have 
 been prejudiced against the family. 
 
 She testified, when the occasion came, that the Fran- 
 ceschini had treated their visitors not only with rudeness 
 but with brutality. Guido had called his mother-in- 
 law a " slut " ; Signora Beatrice had warned Angelica 
 against the Comparini and had commanded her to 
 render them no service. Once when Violante was ill, and 
 " needed to be unlaced " and to have vinegar and other 
 restoratives given her, Angelica was forbidden to afiford 
 her any assistance, although the poor lady was very cold 
 and, indeed, "nearly dead." Moreover, she was for- 
 bidden to light poor Pietro up the stairs when he 
 returned to the palace late at night. This was a cruel 
 injunction, because a wide staircase that flits abruptly 
 to the right and the left in the black abyss of an un- 
 familiar house is a very puzzling object to a frequenter of 
 taverns who is on his way to bed. Once, indeed, Pietro, 
 in stumbling blindly up these stairs when alone, fell 
 down and was so bruised that he was confined for some 
 days to his room. On another occasion, Pietro, on his 
 return to the Palazzo Franceschini in the evening, 
 found the front door locked, whereupon, to his con- 
 tinued knocking, Violante, in her nightdress, shaking 
 and mumbling, had to shuffle down and let him in. 
 
 Of the poverty of the house and of the miserly 
 meanness with which it was conducted, Angelica Battista 
 gives a very luminous picture in her depositions. We 
 see Guido on a cold Saturday morning sending Joseph, 
 the house-boy, out to buy two pounds of beef and wait- 
 ing at the door to take the meat from him as he returned. 
 This beef he would hand to his mother, and her ladyship 
 
 25
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 would cook it herself, so that there could be no pil- 
 fering, for the two pounds of steak had to last the family 
 a week. We can see this same house-boy sniggering 
 at the lamb's head which was served up, in sections, 
 as a relish no fewer than three successive times. We can 
 picture the dowager countess creeping into the sombre 
 dining-room on tiptoe, just before a meal, in order to 
 add water to the one flask of wine which was to serve 
 the family for dinner. We can see poor old Signor 
 Comparini trying patiently to eat his helping of beef, 
 but compelled to abandon the attempt on account of 
 the extreme toughness of the same. On such occasions, 
 Angelica says, he supported life upon a little toasted 
 bread, in bad condition, and a morsel of cheese. This 
 observant woman concludes her criticism of the cuisine 
 by giving the menu for dinner on a fast day. On such 
 occasion it consisted of but three courses, viz. : vege- 
 table soup, a little salted pike, and some boiled chestnuts. 
 
 Some of Angelica's descriptions, although vivid and 
 even dramatic, are possibly a little overdrawn. Thus we 
 are presented with the spectacle of Signora Violante, 
 an aged, grey-haired lady, fleeing, with many a gasp for 
 breath, along the passage leading to her room, pursued 
 by a reverend canon of the Church, Girolamo Frances- 
 chini to wit, brandishing a naked sword. 
 
 It is not to be supposed that a household endowed 
 
 with so many domestic abnormalities, and productive of 
 
 such alarms and incidents, could long remain whole and 
 
 undivided. When March came, although only three 
 
 months had elapsed since the Comparini had entered 
 
 the portals of the palace, they shook the dust of Arezzo 
 
 from their feet and returned to Rome. It is significant 
 
 26
 
 Palace Life at Arezzo 
 
 that they took Angelica with them. In such straits were 
 they when they left that they were compelled to apply 
 to Guido for money to defray the expenses of the re- 
 turn journey. The Count, one may be sure, never paid 
 money with greater pleasure, while it might be further 
 surmised that he took pains to inform Pietro of that 
 fact. Violante's farewell remarks to Guido and his 
 mother have not been preserved, and by so much the 
 Italian language, although possessing great range of 
 expression, is left the poorer. 
 
 The disillusioned couple returned to their old house 
 in the Via Vittoria, saddened and chastened, no doubt, 
 but yet provided with a wider experience of life and 
 something to think about. 
 
 Guido must have been jubilant. The Franceschini 
 brothers had been victorious all along the line. The 
 noble Count possessed the dainty Pompilia ; he had se- 
 cured Pietro's money, or the better part of it ; he was 
 rid of the burden of lodging and supporting two people 
 he loathed; and, above all, he had seen the last of that 
 horrible virago, Violante, and her wine-bibbing hus- 
 band. Time showed, however, that he had neither seen 
 the last nor heard the last of Violante Comparini, 
 
 27
 
 violante's confession 
 
 POMPILIA'S plight after her parents had fled to 
 Rome was lamentable beyond words. Here was a 
 girl not yet fourteen left alone in a sepulchre of 
 a house, in a foreign country, without a single friend. 
 Guido, on the other hand, was as nearly happy as he 
 had ever been in his life. His clever plot had succeeded, 
 his lying had met with the most gratifying results, he 
 had trampled the Comparini into the dirt ; while as for 
 his passion of hate, could he not glut it to the full upon 
 this shrinking, pale-faced girl who was always crying 
 for her mother and imploring to be sent home? 
 
 The noble Count would be at pains to recall, day 
 by day at dinner, the picture of the two old people — 
 Violante and Pietro — sneaking along towards Rome, 
 and would speculate as to what town they had reached 
 each night, for the journey then occupied a week. Later 
 he would surmise that they had gained the city, and 
 had crawled into the familiar house in the Via Vittoria, 
 whipped and beaten. There they would hide their 
 shame, together with the failure of all their schemes 
 and the utter collapse of their fortunes. 
 
 For some few weeks there was comparative peace in 
 the palace, just as after a storm may follow a windless 
 if dreary calm. No news came from Arezzo, for the 
 
 Countess Pompilia Franceschini could not write, while 
 
 28
 
 ;i 1 ^ 
 
 11. — VIA GIULIA AND CHURCH OF SANTA MARIA DELLA 
 
 MORTK, ROME.
 
 Violante's Confession 
 
 no news came from Rome for other reasons. After 
 the passage of a month or more of sunshine and blue 
 sky, the drowsy silence was broken by a fearsome 
 thunderclap. Violante had made a confession. 
 
 As soon as the couple were settled in the old house 
 again, Violante told her husband, with much solemnity, 
 that she had something to say. Possibly it was in that 
 listless hour after sunset, after the Ave Maria had rung, 
 that the secret was told. The confession was briefly 
 this : Pompilia was not their daughter. She was the 
 daughter of a common prostitute from whom Violante 
 had purchased her several days before her birth. She 
 then revealed the details of the trick that had been 
 practised, told how she had feigned illness, how certain 
 delusive preparations had been made, recalled the buy- 
 ing of the cradle and the engagement of the nurse, and 
 reminded Pietro how he had been sent more than once 
 in fuming haste to the apothecary for mysterious drugs. 
 Violante — who seems to have possessed an unblushing 
 pride in her skill as a schemer — omitted no items, and 
 Pietro had to ow^n that the deception had been artisti- 
 cally complete. At the time of Pompilia's birth, it may 
 be mentioned that Violante was about forty-eight years 
 of age. 
 
 The reason for this cold and deliberate work of 
 fraud Violante now proceeded to expound. Upon the 
 grounds of sentiment she had thought it would be 
 pleasant if there were a child to cheer the declining 
 years of their lives, while from the point of view of busi- 
 ness she pointed out that, failing an heir, the property 
 in which they held a reversionary interest would pass out 
 of the family into the hands of strangers. That perhaps 
 
 29
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'* 
 
 weighed more with her than the joys of a fictitious 
 motherhood. Every item in her story was capable of 
 proof, for all those who had taken part in the solemn 
 farce thirteen years ago were alive and more than eager 
 to state what they knew. 
 
 It had been Violante's intention to carry the secret 
 hidden in her heart to the grave. She had made con- 
 fession now in order to revenge herself upon Guido, 
 because it was evident that the dowry which had been 
 bestowed upon a daughter could not belong to Pompilia 
 Franceschini, who was a daughter no more. It was not 
 until this stage in the story was reached that Pietro's 
 face relaxed, that his indignation faded, and that he 
 was able to smile and compliment his wife upon her 
 ingenious brain. 
 
 Thus it came about that Guido's short period of 
 happiness was brought to an end by the dropping of 
 a bomb into his house in the form of the writ of a legal 
 action against him for the recovery of the whole of his 
 wife's dowry. One can conceive how he foamed and 
 shrieked with rage, how he half narcotised Pompilia 
 with the fetor of his abuse, how he would drag her to 
 the window by the ear to look at her face, and then, 
 with the hiss of a cobra, would ask her if she knew 
 what she was and what her mother had been. One can 
 imagine, also, how the chaste Beatrice would draw her 
 skirts aside in passing, lest she should be polluted by a 
 creature so infamous ; while the Canon Girolamo, who 
 had terrified the child by his disgusting advances, would 
 now sneer at the modesty she had had the impudence 
 to assume. 
 
 The action for the nullification of the dowry contract 
 
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 Violante's Confession 
 
 came before the Court at Rome in the summer of 1694. 
 The trial involved an unusual problem and thus excited 
 an exceptional interest. In this and in subsequent legal 
 proceedings the Abbe Paolo acted on behalf of his 
 brother, who remained at Arezzo. The decision was 
 given in Guido's favour. It was proved that Pompilia 
 was not a daughter of the Comparini. It was ruled 
 that the contract between the count and Pietro had been 
 made in good faith and must therefore stand. Pompilia 
 remained in quasi-possession of her daughtership, so 
 that the immediate dowry of £520 bestowed upon her 
 was undisturbed, while as regards the reversionary pro- 
 perty it was obvious that that could not come into her 
 possession as she was not legitimately an heir to the 
 same. 
 
 So far as money was concerned Guido was no gainer 
 by the trial. Signor Comparini appealed against the 
 decision of the Court, and, pending the hearing of that 
 appeal, no action with regard to the disposal of the dowry 
 could be taken. For reasons which will appear, this 
 second action never came to a hearing, Pietro had 
 paid only £140 out of the amount of £520 which was 
 due, and further to protect himself against any seizure 
 of his funds he entered a statement — a little idea of his 
 wife's, no doubt — that certain creditors had made a claim 
 upon his property. 
 
 Up to this point Violante had done well, but in the 
 finer art of bull-baiting she was destined to do better. To 
 support their case at the trial, the Comparini published, 
 in the form of a pamphlet, the sworn affidavit of An- 
 gelica Battista dealing with the intimate and inner life 
 of the Franceschini household. There is not the least 
 
 31
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'' 
 
 doubt that Violante supplied her now spurious son-in- 
 law with a copy of this incisive document, and, further- 
 more, she may- be depended upon to have furnished 
 reprints of Angelica's memoirs to such notables in 
 Arezzo as were intimate with the Franceschini family. 
 The brochure must have afforded excellent reading for 
 many in that quiet town, since as material for gossip the 
 details relating to the piece of beef, the lamb's head 
 and the watering of the wine were absolutely beyond 
 price. It was Angelica's script that converted Guido 
 from a mere wolfish ruffian into a distempered fiend, 
 as will in time be made manifest. 
 
 The wretched Guido could make no reply. In a 
 tottering attempt to be equal with Violante he stated 
 that the Comparini, before they left Arezzo, had urged 
 Pompilia at once to kill her husband, to poison his 
 mother and the reverend canon, to set fire to the house, 
 and then to fly to Rome with the first young black- 
 guard she could happen on. This motherly advice, 
 which would have involved very strenuous proceedings 
 on the part of a mere child of thirteen, was recognised 
 as the product of Guido's spiteful brain, and was 
 only of interest as evidence that his invention was at 
 fault. 
 
 Still sillier than the matter of the charge was the 
 manner in which the poor degenerate brought it for- 
 ward. He produced a letter which the Abbe Paolo 
 had received from Pompilia, the same being duly 
 signed by her and dated "Arezzo, June 14th, 1694." 
 Now it would be about June that the action to set 
 aside the dowry contract was instituted. As this letter 
 rose into unmerited prominence some few years after- 
 
 32
 
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 Violante's Confession 
 
 wards, it may be well to dispose of it at this point. 
 The epistle opens as follows : 
 
 " Dearest Brother-in-law : 
 
 " I wish by this letter to pay my respects to you, and to 
 thank you for your efforts in placing me in this home, where, 
 far removed from my parents, I live now a tranquil life and enjoy 
 perfect safety, not having them around me. For they grieved 
 me night and day with their perverse commands, which were 
 against the law, both human and divine." 
 
 Then comes the detailed advice given by Violante on 
 the subject of wholesale murder, arson and dishonour, 
 followed by these sentences : 
 
 " Now that I have not her at hand who stirred up my mind, I 
 enjoy the quiet of Paradise, and know that my parents were 
 thus directing me to a precipice, because of their own rage. 
 
 " I wish to be a good Christian and a good wife to Signor 
 Guido, who has many times chidden me in a loving manner." 
 
 The letter concludes 
 
 "Your most affectionate servant and sister, 
 
 Francesca Franceschini." 
 
 Unfortunately the value of this document, as a piece 
 of evidence, was marred by the fact that Pompilia 
 could not at this date either read or write. The terms 
 of the letter were in themselves ridiculous, for it was 
 never suggested that Pompilia was a mistress of the 
 art of sarcasm. 
 
 The description of the villainous house at Arezzo as 
 "a quiet Paradise" is extravagant even for the most 
 flippant cynic. Pompilia always regarded the Comparini 
 as her parents, always spoke of them as her "dear 
 Father and Mother," turned to them in her direst 
 trouble and clung to them with the deepest affection
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 to the end. They were indeed the only friends she 
 had in the world. Moreover, when the time came, 
 Pompilia testified that her husband had put before her 
 a letter in pencil, the words of which he had made 
 her trace over with ink with her own hand. When 
 she was shown the letter Paolo produced she said she 
 believed it to be the one she had dealt with in this 
 manner and remembered that she had been told that 
 it was intended for her brother-in-law in Rome. 
 
 The obliging Paolo brought forward another letter 
 of like origin that he had received from Pompilia, in 
 which she says that she is well and happy, now that 
 her parents are no longer with her to stir her to evil. 
 In the great criminal trial in Rome these two prepos- 
 terous documents told heavily against the count. 
 
 34
 
 VI 
 
 POMPILIA AT BAY 
 
 GUIDO, wellnigh deranged by the action of the 
 Comparini, had no other joy or rehef than to 
 vent the torrent of his wrath upon the shoulders 
 of his lonely and forsaken wife. His hatred of the 
 child seems to have been little less than a demoniacal 
 possession. Everything he saw around him was blood 
 red. He longed to murder Pompilia, to stab her with 
 a score of wounds, slowly to poison her, or to beat her 
 to 'death. This desire of his heart seems to have been 
 the prevailing topic of his speech when he deigned to 
 converse with her. Being the most squeamish of cowards 
 he was afraid to slaughter her outright without a legal 
 excuse. He cheered himself with the hope that he 
 might so bully and torture her that she would sicken 
 and die, or that she would batter herself to death 
 against the bars of her cage, or would seek peace by 
 leaping from the palace roof on to the kindly stones of 
 the street below. 
 
 Guido found, however, that this fragile little maid 
 was hard to kill, and that her courage was even greater 
 than his cowardice. Her brother-in-law, the Canon 
 Girolamo, made use of her distress to promote his dis- 
 honourable advances, while the old mother took savage 
 delight in playing with her misery as a cat plays with 
 a benumbed mouse that is still wet from its maw. 
 
 35
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book 
 
 >> 
 
 Pompilia, driven hither and thither in this hell-like 
 cavern of a house, fled in despair to the governor of 
 Arezzo and threw herself at his feet. The governor, 
 however, was a friend of the Franceschini. He re- 
 buked the baby of a wife, charged her with creating 
 a scandal, told her to mend her ways, go home and 
 behave better. This is the man whose remedy for 
 Pompilia's wrong was, as the poem says — 
 
 " A shrug o' the shoulder, a facetious word 
 Or wink, traditional with Tuscan wits, 
 To Guido in the doorway." 
 
 His regard for Guido carried him a little farther, and 
 took him indeed too far, for he wrote (after a hint, no 
 doubt) to the ever-mischiefiful Paolo a letter, in which he 
 says that his brothers at Arezzo possessed the "patience 
 of martyrs," that the "poor child," as he fitly calls her, 
 had been led into excesses by her parents, and that she 
 now detests even the memory of their existence. He 
 concluded, in a fine outburst of imagery, by describing 
 the home at Arezzo as "an utter quietude," and in 
 signing his name, Vincenzo Marzi-Medici, wrote him- 
 self down as one of the most ready and light-hearted of 
 the many liars with whose utterances the Yellow Book 
 is concerned. 
 
 Pompilia then sought the bishop of the city, and, 
 indeed, ran to him twice for pity and protection, begging 
 him to send her to a convent. This prelate seems to 
 have adopted the bland attitude of a stage father, to 
 have patted her on the shoulder, and told her, with 
 many flatulent platitudes, to go home and be a good 
 wife. He seems to have been kind to her, in an oily 
 way, for he "sent her home in his carriage," after he 
 
 36
 
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 Pompilia at Bay 
 
 had, no doubt, wiped her wet cheeks, quieted her sob- 
 bing, and tidied her hair under her wimple. In spite 
 of all this, Pompilia says in her deposition that "this 
 did no good." 
 
 Pompilia's third and final visit to the bishop is 
 graphically described by one Bartholomeo Albergotti, 
 a gentleman of Arezzo, in a communication to Signor 
 Comparini. He writes that on the morning of the day 
 before Palm Sunday the countess went to the church 
 to hear the preaching. It would seem that the quiet 
 of the place, the atmosphere of peace that filled it, to- 
 gether with the drowsy scent of incense and the chanting 
 of the choir, presented so intense a contrast with the 
 devil-haunted house to which she must return that 
 when the service was over she suddenly darted away 
 and rushed into the palace of the bishop. 
 
 The bishop declined to give her audience ; where- 
 upon she took up her place at the head of the stairs, 
 crouching down in the corner with her heaving shoulders 
 against the door. To avoid a scandal, both Count 
 Guido and Signora Beatrice went to her and begged 
 her to come home. She neither spoke nor moved. 
 They dared not lay hands on her and drag her away, 
 so they parleyed with her at a distance. There was 
 such a look of desperation on her face, such a look 
 of the hunted animal in her solemn eyes, that they 
 stood back in awe. Pompilia, huddled against the door 
 at[the head of the stairs, was like a fawn at bay. There 
 she remained the whole day through, dumb and motion- 
 less, the picture of despair. At last, as night was setting 
 in and as the Christian bishop was still unmoved, a 
 secretary came out, talked kindly to her, as a passer-by 
 
 37
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 would solace a stray dog that had been chased about 
 until it dropped. He persuaded her in the end to 
 return home, having already urged the malignant Guido 
 not to scold her. It is of this bishop that the Pope 
 asks later on : 
 
 " While the wolf pressed on her within crook's reach, 
 Wast thou the hireling that did turn and flee ? " 
 
 It was a month after this, she says in her deposition, 
 that she went to her confessor, an Augustinian priest 
 named Romano, and, telling him all her distresses, im- 
 plored him to write to her parents and beg their help 
 in her desperate plight. The holy father, no doubt, 
 promised to write, but on reflection thought that he had 
 better not meddle between husband and wife, and so 
 fulfilled his priestly office by doing nothing. Thus it 
 is that Pompilia, in speaking of this letter upon which 
 her last hope hung, says sadly, " But I had no response." 
 
 After his first black wrath was satiated a light 
 dawned upon the muddy waste of Guido's brain, and 
 showed him that Pompilia's death, although pleasant to 
 contemplate, would avail him less than he hoped. The 
 appeal in the action about the dowry was pending, and 
 he asked himself. Would her death just now make his 
 position better? He concluded it would make it worse. 
 But happily there was another way. This wife he 
 loathed was young and good looking. He would force 
 her into the arms of some young lover, set a trap for 
 her, catch her in a compromising position, and then 
 throw her out into the streets as a base outcast and an 
 unfaithful wife. This plan, no doubt, pleased him, so 
 that he gloated over it, rubbing his hands and smacking 
 
 38
 
 16. MAP OV MODERN ROME.
 
 Pompllia at Bay 
 
 his knee with genial satisfaction. It would make his 
 case very strong when next he met the Comparini in 
 court. The first need obviously was to find the lover, 
 and in this worthy search he was favoured by fortune. 
 
 Connected with the Church of Santa Maria della 
 Pieve were two canons who were great friends — Canon 
 Conti and Canon Caponsacchi. Conti was related to 
 the Franceschini, for his brother had married Guido's 
 only sister Porzia. Conti was an amiable, easy-going 
 priest, a peacemaker, a friend to everybody, and a man 
 with an eye to the joys and gaieties of the world. It 
 seems to have been an object in his life to avoid trouble. 
 Caponsacchi was a young man of noble birth and of 
 considerable culture, a favourite in Arezzo society and, 
 according to the testimony of some, a squire of dames. 
 He was a man of spirit, moreover, bold and courageous, 
 and one who was not easily turned aside from any path 
 he had elected to tread. 
 
 One evening Pompilia and her woeful husband went 
 to the theatre. The place was very crowded. Near 
 them were sitting Canon Conti and his friend, Giuseppe 
 Caponsacchi. The good-natured Conti, in the hope 
 of bringing a smile to the sorrowful face of the young 
 wife, threw some confetti into her lap. Guido saw the 
 act, and declared at once that it was Caponsacchi who 
 threw them. It was thus, so one reads, that Pompilia 
 and Caponsacchi met for the first time, face to face. 
 Guido had found the decoy. 
 
 This episode in the playhouse would be probably 
 towards the end of 1696, when Pompilia was a little over 
 sixteen and Caponsacchi was about twenty-three. Some 
 two and a half years had elapsed since the Comparini had 
 
 39
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 fled from Arezzo, and during the whole of this time the 
 young bride had certainly little relief from unhappiness. 
 
 Guido now set to work with a good heart to drive 
 his wife to desperation and disgrace. Letters were sent 
 to Caponsacchi purporting to come from Pompilia. As 
 Pompilia was unable to write, there is little doubt that 
 these letters were composed by Guido and written under 
 his direction. Answers to these letters, stated to have 
 been penned by Caponsacchi, were brought to Pompilia, 
 but as she could not read she could not appreciate them. 
 These also were — the evidence suggests — examples of 
 Count Guido's literary efforts. The documents, as will 
 be told later on, played a prominent part in the great 
 trial at Rome. At this period there was a maidservant 
 in the house with the pretty name of Maria Margherita 
 Contenti. She had succeeded that Angelica whose vivid 
 impressions of the inner life of the Franceschini had so 
 disturbed her late master. Maria Contenti was under 
 Guido's thumb. She was — as was subsequently shown — 
 a woman of the lowest character. She pretended to be 
 the medium of communication between her young mis- 
 tress and the priest. It was she who manipulated the 
 spurious billets doux. It was she who brought fictitious 
 messages of love from the priest, whom she never saw, 
 to the victim whom she was bribed to entrap. 
 
 In the meantime Guido assumed the pose of the 
 jealous and injured husband. He railed against Capon- 
 sacchi as the destroyer of his peace, as the serpent that 
 had crept into his happy home. He accused Pompilia 
 of encouraging the canon, and so tormented her by 
 continual outbursts of simulated jealousy that she was 
 
 " reduced," as she says, " to desperation." 
 
 40
 
 17.— THE VIA DEL GOVERNO VECCHIO. ROME 
 
 1
 
 Pompilia at Bay 
 
 One day, as Caponsacchi was passing the house, she 
 leaned from the balcony and begged him not to pass 
 that way, because she had suffered so much from her hus- 
 band on his account. Caponsacchi, who knew nothing 
 of the letters and had no inkling of the plot, re- 
 plied, with a defiant laugh, that no Guido should stop 
 him from passing along the street if he wished, and by 
 that way he would go whenever he was so minded. 
 In answer to this defiance Guido became the more 
 persistent in his cruelty, and threatened many times to 
 kill his victim, assuring her that her evil conduct justi- 
 fied him in doing so. 
 
 The story now comes to the beginning of April, 
 1697, at which time Pompilia realised that she was about 
 to become a mother. She was then nearly seventeen. 
 For her own life, for her own safety, for her own 
 comfort, she had little care. For over three years she 
 had dragged through a life of wretchedness, under the 
 daily menace of death. This she had borne, but she 
 would not allow the life of her child to be sacrificed. 
 This new life was in her keeping, and she resolved to 
 protect and shield it at all costs. It was then, she 
 says, that " I planned to run away and go back to 
 Rome to my father and mother." 
 
 She appealed to the generous Canon Conti to help 
 her to escape, and indeed to take her with him to Rome. 
 He explained that he was compelled to decline, owing 
 to his relationship to the Franceschini and the fact that 
 they trusted him as a friend. Conti suggested in his 
 place a certain Signor Gregorio Guillichini. This 
 gentleman readily consented to undertake the mission, 
 but unfortunately before his plans could be matured he 
 
 41
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 was seized with illness and could do nothing. It was then 
 that he and Canon Conti suggested Caponsacchi as the 
 man to rescue her and take her away to the safe keeping 
 of her parents. Caponsacchi, it was said, was about to 
 journey to Rome on business of his own. He was 
 moreover " a man of powerful strength, fearless and full 
 of spirit." Pompilia on her part had " heard it said 
 that he was a resolute man." 
 
 So one day as the sturdy canon passed the house 
 she called to him, told him of her dire peril, and begged 
 him to take her to her parents in Rome. Caponsacchi 
 at once replied that he, as a priest, could ill meddle 
 with a matter of this kind, for if he did so it would be 
 an act that the Church and the whole city would con- 
 demn. "But," says Pompilia, "I implored him so 
 much and told him that it was the duty of a Christian 
 to free from death a poor foreign woman" that he put 
 aside his scruples and promised to aid her to escape. 
 He told her he would secure a carriage and horses, and 
 when all the arrangements for the journey were com- 
 plete he would give her a signal by dropping a hand- 
 kerchief as he passed along the street. 
 
 For two whole days, from dawn to sunset, Pom- 
 pilia, breathless with expectation, watched at the win- 
 dow during every moment that she was free. Guido 
 took care that she lacked no opportunity, for it seemed 
 to him that the snare was ready and the teeth of the 
 trap were on edge to fall. See her, then, in the gloomy 
 room that she loathed as a prisoner loathes his cell, 
 looking out from behind the shutter at a little strip of 
 sunlit street, with her heart in such concern that the 
 
 pressure of her hand failed to still it. There is the 
 
 42
 
 Pompilia at Bay 
 
 sound of footsteps in the lane ; she bends to look out 
 until the sun falls on her shapely head. A priest is pass- 
 ing by, he walks slowly with his face turned to the 
 ground, as if he were lost in thought. His hands are 
 clasped behind his back and in one hand is a hand- 
 kerchief. As he passes the window the handkerchief 
 drops. 
 
 43
 
 VII 
 
 THE FLIGHT WITH THE PRIEST 
 
 ON the night of the last Sunday in April in the 
 year 1697 Pompilia left her husband's house for 
 ever. She crept down the stairs without awaken- 
 ing the household, a white-faced, hooded figure, tense 
 with terror. She drew back the bolts of the great door, 
 moved it on its reluctant hinges, and through the gap 
 slipped out into the street, free for the first time since 
 she had put her foot within the accursed city. Capon- 
 sacchi was there in lay dress in the shadow of the wall. 
 He came forward to meet her, and with the touch of 
 his hand her sense of horror and of loneliness vanished. 
 She had with her a little money and a bundle of clothing 
 such as she could carry in her arms, together with a 
 few simple trinkets in a box. She had her money tied 
 up in the corner of a handkerchief, after the manner 
 of children. 
 
 The two walked together through the silent streets, 
 like two ghosts in a city of the dead. It was a dark 
 night. Every house looked mysterious and unfamiliar, 
 while every lane led into black nothingness. They 
 made their way to the San Clemente Gate, which gate, 
 like those of the rest of the city, was closed. They 
 climbed, however, the wall on the hill of the Torrione, 
 and, having dropped over on the other side, reached 
 the " Horse Inn" just outside the gate above mentioned. 
 
 44
 
 18. -THE OLD HOUSE IN THE VIA DEL GOVERNO VECCHIO. 
 
 ROME.
 
 The Flight with the Priest 
 
 There they found a two-horse carriage awaiting them 
 in charge of a servant from the " Canale Inn" by the 
 name of Venerino. He had left Arezzo on Sunday 
 evening, at the Ave Maria, before the gates had been 
 shut. They mounted the carriage and drove round 
 outside the walls of the city to the San Spirito Gate, 
 where they took the high road to Rome by way of 
 Perugia. 
 
 The first stopping place for the changing of horses 
 was at Camoscia, a little posting-village below Cortona. 
 It was here that Venerino the driver left them and re- 
 turned to Arezzo. They were clear of the city by about 
 one o'clock in the morning — that is, the morning of 
 Monday, April 29th. 
 
 It was alleged that Pompilia had "put a sleeping 
 potion and opium in her husband's wine at dinner" on 
 the night on which she escaped, and furthermore that 
 she had stolen from the house, money, jewellery and 
 clothing of considerable value, and had taken the same 
 with her. When the charge of drugging came up for 
 judgment, it was contended that a girl not yet seventeen 
 years old could hardly be so adept in the art of poisoning 
 as to deceive such a man as Count Guido. The matter, 
 therefore, was not pressed. The accusation of stealing, 
 on the other hand, was supported by considerable and 
 precise detail, as will be considered hereafter. 
 
 From Camoscia the lady and the priest hurried south- 
 wards on the high road to Rome by way of Perugia, 
 Assisi, Foligno, Narni, Otricoli and Civita Castellana. 
 They drove night and day without a halt, except to 
 change horses and to seek refreshment. They pushed 
 on with feverish haste through a score or more of 
 
 45
 
 The Country of **The Ring and the Book" 
 
 towns, along endless miles of valley, and over a ram- 
 part of tumbled hills, pressing ever for Rome with all 
 the speed that two poor post-horses could make on a 
 sorry road. In this way they reached Castelnuovo at 
 about seven in the e/ening of Tuesday, April 30th. 
 They had travelled, therefore, through two days of day- 
 light and through one whole night. 
 
 Now Castelnuovo is a little posting-place just fifteen 
 miles from Rome. When they halted at this village to 
 change horses Caponsacchi was for forging on to their 
 journey's end, but Pompilia was too exhausted to travel 
 another mile. Whatever fate was in store for her, 
 whatever disaster might befall, she could not move 
 another step. She was wellnigh dead with fatigue. 
 She was in pain. It must be remembered that she was 
 very young, that she was in delicate health and that 
 unless she had slept in the carriage at some post-station 
 while the horses were being changed, she had not closed 
 her eyes since Sunday morning, and it was now Tuesday 
 night. She had passed through a period of the most 
 acute anxiety and suspense. She had listened during 
 every hour since they left Arezzo for the galloping hoofs 
 of men in pursuit. Her very life hung on the fate of 
 this journey. Behind her was the hell of Arezzo ; 
 before her was the haven of peace at Rome. It was 
 as if her flight were across a wide river covered with 
 thin ice, whence she could see her enemies hurrying 
 down to the bank behind her and at the same moment 
 could feel her foothold heave and crackle beneath her 
 feet. Roads were rough in Italy two centuries ago, and 
 these runaways had, in forty-two hours, accomplished 
 a journey that occupied the unruffled traveller a week. 
 
 46
 
 The Flight with the Priest 
 
 She must rest at Castelnuovo or die. Thus it was 
 then that, half conscious, half asleep, she was lifted out 
 of the carriage, where her body had stiffened into the 
 contour of the seat, and was carried in Caponsacchi's 
 strong arms to an upper room of the little inn. The 
 inn still stands and still can show this tragic room. 
 
 47
 
 VIII 
 
 THE SCENE AT CASTELNUOVO 
 
 THERE was but one available apartment in the 
 post-house. It contained two beds. One of these 
 the priest ordered to be prepared for Pompilia. 
 Here she threw herself down to rest, while Caponsacchi 
 watched by her. Her last thought, if she thought at 
 all, was of the house in the Via Vittoria, which was but 
 two short hours away across the downs, and her last 
 sense, unless her drowsiness had numbed it, would tell 
 her that the air rustling at the open window blew from 
 off the Campagna of Rome. 
 
 Caponsacchi was not long by her side, for he must 
 need see that all was prepared for the last stage of 
 the momentous journey. As the dawn began to break — 
 and here in May it would be light enough to see by 
 four — he ordered the horses to be put in and the 
 carriage made ready for the traverse of the last few 
 miles that separated them from the much-desired 
 city. In less than half an hour they would start, 
 while long before the sun had risen above the Monti 
 Sabini they would see the domes and pinnacles of 
 Rome. 
 
 Just as the moment had arrived to rouse Pompilia 
 there came a sound of footsteps on the road, and in 
 the dim light of the dawn the priest saw Count Guido 
 
 Franceschini coming towards him with a posse of men. 
 
 48
 
 19. CHURCH OF THE AGONIZZANTI, ROME, 
 Where Giiido received the Sacrament on his way to execution.
 
 The Scene at Castelnuovo 
 
 The tiny town of Castelnuovo lies a little off the main 
 road. It was from the town that Guido came. He 
 had pursued the two on horseback, but he had no 
 intention of confronting Caponsacchi alone. Coward 
 as he was he knew the priest too well for that. He 
 did not dash up to the inn on a steaming horse and 
 throw himself from the saddle sword in hand. On the 
 contrary, he crept cautiously up to the house on foot. 
 He had found that the two he sought were at the inn, 
 so he had slunk off to the town, had awakened the 
 magistrate and had come back with a party of such 
 police as the little place afforded. It was neither a 
 heroic nor a dramatic entry. It is to be gathered — 
 although the evidence is conflicting — that both Guido 
 and the canon were armed with a small weapon known 
 as a travelling sword. 
 
 Picture them as they face one another in the dim 
 road, how Guido shrinks before the gaze of the priest, 
 how the hand of each flies to the sword hilt, and how 
 by some unconscious, spontaneous movement both 
 men lift their eyes to the lamp-lit upper window of 
 the inn. 
 
 A time came some months afterwards when the 
 curious wondered why the insulted husband had not 
 rushed upon the defiler of his home and cut him 
 to the ground. Guido preferred, however, to shelter 
 himself behind the backs of the sturdy yokels who 
 represented the law, and to wait until the monk was 
 safely secured with cords before he assumed the role 
 of the principal actor in the scene. 
 
 The party now proceeded up the stair to the room 
 in which Pompilia lay asleep. The brave Guido no 
 E 49
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 doubt led the way, followed by a couple of stumbling 
 louts who had been commissioned to arrest this desperate 
 woman of sixteen. Here one can see Guido flinging 
 open the door and stepping dramatically into the room, 
 where, in the faint light of the dawn and of the still 
 flickering lamp, he would stamp and bellow as the 
 outraged husband. He expected Pompilia, thus sud- 
 denly awakened, to assume the part appropriate to the 
 guilty wife, to scream, to throw herself at his feet, 
 and, with tears pouring from her eyes, to confess her 
 shame and implore him to forgive her and to spare her 
 unworthy life. This was the edifying spectacle for the 
 bumpkins of the law that Guido had in his mind when 
 he led them dauntlessly up the stair to the chamber 
 of sin. 
 
 Alas ! Except as a thing to cuff and abuse he knew 
 nothing of the real Pompilia. Now face to face with 
 the wrecker of her life she showed something of that 
 spirit which had given her patience and courage for 
 three dreary years. She sprang to her feet and defied 
 the gross brute who would have crushed the life out 
 of her and with it another life that was not her own. 
 She snatched the sword from her husband's hand and 
 would have thrust it through his black heart had not 
 the officers seized her and twisted the weapon from 
 her grasp. 
 
 Sure one may be of this, that Guido 'made his way 
 down the tavern stair less with the exalted crest of the 
 champion of virtue than with the drooping head of 
 the whipped hound. 
 
 Caponsacchi and^Pompilia were taken to Castelnuovo, 
 which lies, as already said, away from the road, and were 
 
 50
 
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 The Scene at Castelnuovo 
 
 lodged in the prisons of the somewhat formidable town 
 hall of the place. The prisons and the town hall are 
 yet to be seen, and have apparently altered in no essen- 
 tial since the days when the priest and the girl he had 
 saved climbed up the steep stair that leads to the 
 justice room. 
 
 5«
 
 IX 
 
 AFTER CASTELNUOVO 
 
 SOME unimpressive legal proceedings took place in 
 the Pretura of Castelnuovo before the Guardian 
 of the Peace, who would probably have felt more 
 at ease behind his grocery counter than on the magisterial 
 bench. Guido would address the awed man eloquently 
 on the subject of his injured honour and the outrage 
 upon his home. He would, furthermore, give the rustic 
 some insight into the feelings of a nobleman. The 
 clodhoppers who represented the strong arm of the law 
 would tell the story of their doughty deeds, the priest 
 would smile his contempt of it all, while the little 
 countess would gain heart by resting her eyes on the 
 gallant figure of the man who had done his all to 
 save her. 
 
 With proper solemnity the two runaways were com- 
 mitted to the Carceri Nuove, or New Prisons, in Rome, 
 and were handed over to the custody of the police 
 from that city. It was a sad ending to a great venture, 
 made sadder when Rome was reached, for on their way 
 to the jail in the Via Giulia, Pompilia would pass the 
 very street where her parents lived, which had been 
 to her for three long years the one spot in the wide 
 world upon which her heart, her love, her hopes of 
 security were fixed. 
 
 Some days elapsed between the arrests at the inn 
 
 52
 
 After Castelnuovo 
 
 and the committal of the two to the jail in Rome, for 
 on May 3rd Pompilia wrote a letter to her parents, 
 which was addressed from the prison at Castelnuovo. 
 As this letter is of some moment it is given here in full. 
 
 " My dear Father and Mother : 
 
 "I wish to inform you that I am imprisoned here at Cas- 
 telnuovo for having fled from home with a gentleman with whom 
 you are not acquainted. But he is a relative of the Guillichini, 
 who was at Rome, and who was to have accompanied me to 
 Rome. As Guillichini was sick, and could not come with me, 
 the other gentleman came, and I came with him for this reason, 
 because my life was not worth an hour's purchase. For Guido, 
 my husband, wished to kill me, because he had certain suspicions, 
 which were not true, and on account of these he wished to 
 murder me. I sent you word of them on purpose, but you did 
 not believe the letters sent you were in my own hand. But I 
 declare that I finished learning how to write in Arezzo, Let 
 me tell you that the one who carries this was moved by pity 
 and provided me with the paper and what I needed. So as soon 
 as you have read this letter of mine come here to Castelnuovo 
 to give me some aid, because my husband is doing all he can 
 against me. Therefore, if you wish your daughter well, come 
 quickly. I stop because I have no more time. — May 3. 
 
 " Directed to Signor Pietro Comparini, Via Vittoria, Rome." 
 
 In due course the two prisoners were brought up for 
 trial before the criminal court at Rome. There were 
 many charges in the indictment, but the fulminating one 
 was the charge of adultery. It soon became assured 
 that Paolo did not intend that the prosecution should 
 languish for want of evidence. The trial dragged on 
 for many months, all through the summer indeed, so 
 that it was not until nearly the end of September that 
 the conclusion was reached. 
 
 Tlie chief points advanced against the prisoners were 
 the following : 
 
 53
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 It was asserted by Guido that on their way from 
 Arezzo to Rome they had spent the night together at 
 FoHgno, and further that they had been guilty of mis- 
 conduct at the inn at Castelnuovo. Both these charges 
 remained unproved, and, indeed, in support of the 
 former no scrap of testimony was forthcoming. With 
 regard to Castelnuovo, the evidence of the keeper of the 
 inn and of his servant sufficed to clear the reputation 
 of both Caponsacchi and his companion. 
 
 In the second place, the man Venerino, or Borsi, who 
 had driven the two from Arezzo to Camoscia, declared 
 that they kissed one another before his very face as they 
 were travelling along the road. This unfortunate man 
 on his return to Arezzo had been arrested and thrown 
 headlong into jail on the charge of aiding and abetting 
 her ladyship and the priest in their flight, and for 
 having been indulgent to their wickedness. Venerino 
 must have had it brought home to him that there are 
 pitfalls even in the path of a driver of hired carriages, 
 while his position as guardian of the morals of the 
 aristocracy must have weighed heavily upon him. His 
 deposition, however, when forthcoming, did not com- 
 mand respect. "After long rotting in imprisonment" 
 he was released, and the statement that he was let go 
 on condition that his testimony favoured Guido's im- 
 pressions was never contradicted. Moreover, the night 
 of the escapade was dark, the vehicle was a covered 
 carriage, and the probability that a man driving along 
 a scarcely discernible road at high speed could keep a 
 watch upon the movements of those who sat in the 
 black recess behind him was not accepted as credible. 
 Then again, although he knew the Countess Frances- 
 
 54
 
 1. 
 
 1^' 
 
 
 21. THE FOUNTAIN, " IJL MORO," PIAZZA NAVONA, ROME.
 
 After Castelnuovo 
 
 chini by sight, he was not aware that it was she he was 
 driving to perdition until he had been informed of the 
 enormity. 
 
 Thirdly, Guido claimed that after the arrest of the 
 parties he had discovered hidden in the inn those com- 
 promising letters which were presumed to have passed 
 between Pompilia and the priest, and of which some 
 account has already been given. These letters have 
 been preserved. They are twenty-one in number. Of 
 these it was declared that eighteen were written by 
 Pompilia and three by Caponsacchi. It is a curious 
 thing that this lady and her friend, if guilty, should 
 have taken care not only to preserve the incrimin- 
 ating letters, but to have carried them with them in 
 their flight. Pompilia, in her examination, declared that 
 at the time the correspondence is supposed to have 
 taken place she could neither read nor write, and that 
 she had never sent letters to anyone by the hand of 
 the servant Maria. Caponsacchi's denial of any concern 
 in the afifair was very emphatic. He knew nothing of 
 these miraculously discovered documents. When they 
 were handed to him he declared that not only were 
 they not in his handwriting, but they bore not the 
 slightest resemblance to his script. 
 
 Pompilia was then confronted by her marriage settle- 
 ment, at the foot of which was her name, signed in her 
 own hand. But in reply to this it was pointed out that 
 the signature, crude and brief as it was, was fashioned 
 with so little skill that the same hand could not have 
 penned the elaborate productions Count Guido had dis- 
 covered at the post-house. 
 
 It is true that Pompilia learned to write before she 
 
 55
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 left Arezzo. She mentions the fact in the letter she 
 addressed to her father from the prison at Castelnuovo. 
 The accomplishment must have been acquired very late, 
 or she would not have asked her confessor, Romano, to 
 write to Rome in her name on matters of great privacy 
 if she could have communicated with her parents herself. 
 
 The letters, however, provide the best refutation of 
 the charge. They are silly enough to be genuine love 
 letters, but not simple enough to be Pompilia's. They 
 are written in an affected and stilted style, and with no 
 small pretence at literary skill. The priest signs himself 
 "Mirtillo" and Pompilia "Amarillis." The effusions 
 of " Amarillis " are the letters of a woman of the world, 
 of a finished coquette, and not of a girl of sixteen. 
 Moreover, the Countess Franceschini was illiterate, and 
 yet in her epistles she refers to the reading of Tasso, 
 regrets that Caponsacchi is not a Theseus, and talks 
 glibly of iEneas, of Ariadne, of Venus and the Graces, 
 and of the Milky Way. Guido, one may believe, ex- 
 tracted these elegant communications from some love 
 story that he had picked up, or that the thoughtful Abbe 
 Paolo had put in his way. It was further to be noted 
 that no evidence was furnished as to whom these letters 
 had been addressed, since no names were attached to 
 any of them. 
 
 One small matter did undoubtedly tell against Pom- 
 pilia. She maintained, in her deposition, that they had 
 reached Castelnuovo at dawn. If this had been true 
 there could have been no question as to a night spent 
 at the inn, since Guido must have then overtaken them 
 almost immediately after their arrival. It is certain that 
 they reached Castelnuovo, as Caponsacchi says with 
 
 56
 
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 After Castelnuovo 
 
 precision, "On Tuesday evening, the last day of the 
 month of April," their coming being perfectly open and 
 known to everyone at the posting-house. Pompilia must 
 have been aware that the exact hour when the carriage 
 halted would be beyond dispute, whatever might have 
 been her impressions on the subject. She had, it must 
 be remembered, passed through a period of intense strain, 
 had travelled without ceasing through day and night for 
 over forty hours, was ill, was indeed so utterly prostrated 
 that she could not face the small two hours more which 
 would have brought her to safety within the walls of 
 Rome. It is not difficult to understand, therefore, that 
 in her state of mind and body 
 
 " She made confusion of the reddening white 
 Which was the sunset when her strength gave way, 
 And the next sunrise and its whitening red 
 Which she revived in when her husband came." 
 
 The result of the trial was as follows : the graver 
 charge was not proved, Caponsacchi was relegated to 
 Civita Vecchia for a period of three years, while Pom- 
 pilia was sent to the Scalette, or Convent di S. Croce 
 della Penitenza, in Rome. Had the charge of adultery 
 been made good the punishment would have been 
 exceedingly severe, according as the law stood at the 
 moment. As it was the decision given was wise. Both 
 the lady and the canon had been guilty of indiscretion. 
 In the interests of the Church it was not desirable that 
 Caponsacchi should return to his ministry at Arezzo. 
 After three years' banishment to Civita his headstrong 
 and foolish exploit as the rescuer of distressed ladies 
 would be forgotten. As to Pompilia, it was impossible 
 to order her to return to her home in Arezzo. To 
 
 57
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 set her free without some tangible reprimand would 
 be to condone an act that no Court could officially 
 approve of. In the convent she would be free from 
 further molestation on the part of her husband, and 
 would find that peace with which she had been so long 
 unfamiliar. The sentence — if it can be called a sentence — 
 was rather a provision for her safe keeping than a 
 punishment. 
 
 The above decision of the Court was verified and 
 confirmed on September 24th, 1697. On October 12th, 
 after but a short stay at the Scalette, Pompilia was 
 allowed to return to her parents' house in the Via 
 Vittoria under a bond of 300 scudi (£60) that "she 
 would not leave the house, either by day or by night, 
 nor show herself at the doors or open windows under 
 any pretence whatever." The fact was that Pompilia's 
 confinement was approaching, and it was inconsistent 
 with the regulations of the convent that she should 
 remain longer within its walls. 
 
 While the trial arising out of the Castelnuovo episode 
 was in progress the Comparini, in the name of their 
 foster daughter, instituted proceedings against Count 
 Guido for divorce a mensa et thoro. A third action, viz. 
 Pietro's appeal against the decision of the Court in the 
 matter of the dowry, was also at the same time in 
 progress. 
 
 Apart from distant rumblings from these legal 
 thunder-clouds, there came once more a period of 
 quietude and clear sky, when all was still both in the 
 Comparini household and in the palace at Arezzo. 
 
 58
 
 X 
 
 GUIDO DECIDES TO VISIT ROME 
 
 GUIDO was not getting on well. His great plot to 
 entrap Pompilia and to brand her with disgrace 
 had failed. He was no nearer to the clutch- 
 ing of the gold he had so long pursued, while his 
 prospects of success in the coming action as to the 
 disposal of the dowry were duller than ever. Violante, 
 with her legal suits, buzzed about his ears like a gad- 
 fly and nearly maddened him. He must work out 
 another plan that would give him the two things which 
 were dearest to him in the world — money and revenge. 
 Now, at this important juncture, a curious thing hap- 
 pened. The Abate Paolo vanished from Rome. Not 
 only did he disappear from Rome, but he vanished from 
 Italy. So completely did he efface himself that he 
 might have been drawn up into Heaven, since he was 
 never heard of again. It was said that he had been 
 dismissed from his post as secretary to the Order of 
 the Knights of St. John of Malta, on account of the 
 scandals which were associated with the name of his 
 family. This might have been the reason of his going 
 had the Order been capable of what would seem to be 
 an act of injustice. His friends declared that the con- 
 duct of the Comparini had become so villainous and 
 so persistent in its villany as to exceed the limits of his 
 forbearance, and that as a consequence "he abandoned 
 
 59
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 all his hopes and possessions, together with his affec- 
 tionate and powerful patrons, and went to a strange 
 and unknown clime." This second excuse for flight 
 is less probable than the first, while neither explains why 
 he felt compelled not only to leave Rome, but to dis- 
 appear from the face of the earth. 
 
 There was a third reason for his strange migration, 
 which was accepted as probable by his enemies. Paolo, 
 they said, knew what was going to happen. Count 
 Franceschini, the fool of the family, needed guidance. 
 Some fresh scheme must be forthcoming whereby he 
 could wreak vengeance upon Violante and her "brat," 
 and obtain their money. The scheme he did evolve 
 was so excellent that it was assumed that he did have 
 guidance, and that the wise hand that now led him 
 along the uncertain path was once more the hand of 
 brother Paolo. 
 
 What would be called the argument or subject- 
 matter of the new plot was as follows : A husband is 
 justified in killing an adulterous wife, while, if certain 
 conditions be fulfilled, such killing is no murder. The 
 attempt to prove that Pompilia was a dishonoured woman 
 had, so far, failed. Let, therefore, another attempt be 
 made to establish this fact by means of an action in the 
 criminal court at Arezzo, where the friendly governor 
 would preside and where the Franceschini name was 
 still of some account. If Pompilia were then declared 
 guilty the weapon for her slaying was at once put into 
 Guido's hand. With her death — as the matter in the 
 Court now stood — the dowry would pass into the count's 
 possession, while if, at the same time, the Comparini 
 
 chanced to cease to live all legal steps would be stayed, 
 
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 Guido Decides to Visit Rome 
 
 and their property would descend through the daughter 
 to her painstaking husband. 
 
 This was a better scheme than the plot of the lady 
 and the ardent lover. It was too good a project for 
 Guido to have elaborated unaided. In short, the enemies 
 of the count believed that Paolo whispered into his 
 brother's ear, "Kill all three," and having tendered that 
 advice vanished into an unknown clime, conscious that 
 there is a prejudice against ministers of God who recom- 
 mend murder as a means of advancement. 
 
 Paolo "passed out of Italy" some time in October 
 or early in November, or at least soon after Pompilia 
 had returned to her parents in the Via Vittoria. 
 
 In the criminal court at Arezzo three persons, viz. 
 Gregorio Guillichini, Pompilia Franceschini, and Fran- 
 cesco Borsi, otherwise Venerino, were accused of various 
 gross offences. The lady was liberally charged with 
 adultery and theft, the gentleman with adultery and 
 theft and with assisting in the lady's escape from 
 Arezzo, and Borsi, the wretched driver, with the 
 crime " of having given opportunity for flight to 
 the said lady along with the Canon Caponsacchi in 
 the manner told." It is curious that Caponsacchi was 
 not made a party to the charges. Possibly by the 
 laws of Tuscany it would be required that, being a priest, 
 he should be impeached before a different tribunal. 
 
 The trial was a ridiculous farce, for neither Guil- 
 lichini nor the countess appeared, nor do they seem in 
 any way to have been represented. Signor Guillichini, 
 as is well known, was ill in bed at the time of Pompilia's 
 escape, and had no more to do with her flight than to 
 wish her well in her enterprise. 
 
 6i
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 As to the theft, Guido furnished a very surprising 
 and detailed inventory of the articles abstracted. It was 
 obviously a fictitious catalogue, and designed rather to 
 impress the good people of Arezzo with the varied and 
 elegant possessions of that nobleman than to assist a 
 criminal prosecution. In the first place, he charged his 
 wife with having stolen £40 in gold and silver coin, and 
 with having purloined no fewer than twelve articles of 
 jewellery of great value from the family chest. These 
 trinkets included a pearl necklace valued at £40, a soli- 
 taire diamond ring worth £8, and a coronet of carnelians 
 with five settings and a cameo in silver filigree, priced 
 at £2 8s. The total value of the missing jewellery 
 was ;f85 8s. In addition to this, the young countess 
 stole and took away with her no fewer than forty articles 
 of female clothing, among them being mantles and 
 damask suits, embroidered petticoats and smart jackets, 
 with, indeed, the general equipment of a lavish trousseau. 
 The clothing came to £46 8s., while the total amount 
 credited to the thief rose to no less than £171 16s. This 
 was a large sum for a man to lose who was endeavouring 
 to support an entire family on two pounds of beef a 
 week. 
 
 It is apparent from one entry in the schedule that 
 
 Guido had a sense of humour, and could evolve a quite 
 
 excellent joke with a quaint and pretty touch of malice 
 
 in it, for among the list of ladies' clothing, among the 
 
 embroidered cuffs and sleeves, the shoes with silver 
 
 buckles and the light blue hose, he puts " a coat of 
 
 her husband Guido rubbed and rent by the lock of a 
 
 chest where he kept the aforesaid clothing," the same 
 
 being the only article with no value appended to it. 
 
 62
 
 Guido Decides to Visit Rome 
 
 The gibe is so good that it must surely have been a 
 product of the nimbler brain of the Abbe Paolo. 
 
 In the matter of the charge, it is needless to say that 
 a solitary girl flying from her home in the depths of 
 the night could hardly carry away with her in her arms 
 over forty articles of clothing; nor, even with the help 
 of the stout Caponsacchi, could this immense outfit have 
 been transferred to the city gate, especially when the 
 alleged robbers had to climb a wall in their progress 
 thither. Even then room had to be found for them- 
 selves and this monstrous degree of luggage in a light 
 travelling gig. A further problem presented itself — 
 what had become of all these costumes, of the miscel- 
 laneous garments, and of the choice collection of jewellery 
 and precious stones? Guido found, or said that he 
 found, a bundle of love-letters secreted in the inn at 
 Castelnuovo, but of the pile of raiment and of the 
 ornaments of gold, silver and enamelled work, no trace 
 was discovered. Pompilia says, in that part of her de- 
 position which deals with the leaving of Arezzo, " I 
 took some little things of my own, a little box with 
 many trifles inside, and some money, I know not how 
 much there was, from the strong box. These were, 
 moreover, my own, as is evident from the list of things 
 and moneys made by the treasurer of Castelnuovo." 
 Nothing but what she here describes was ever found. 
 The money that Pompilia had with her, tied up, in 
 schoolgirl fashion, in the corner of a handkerchief, was 
 forty-seven scudi, or £9 8s. in English currency. This 
 money was handed over to the Abate Paolo, as Count 
 Guido's representative, and was (after appropriate wrang- 
 ling) employed to pay for Pompilia's board and lodging 
 
 63
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 while she was in the convent. The fact that it was 
 her husband who was charged with her support while 
 she was under the protection of the Court at the Scalette 
 shows how definitely her innocence had been established. 
 These and other particulars, however, mattered 
 nothing to the Governor or Commissioner of Arezzo 
 who presided at Pompilia's trial. This upholder of 
 justice was a friend of the Franceschini, and he intended 
 to demonstrate his allegiance. He would show Guido's 
 detractors something of the power of the law. Although 
 he might be a little weak in forensic knowledge, yet in 
 the pronouncing of sentences he was a perfect Minos. 
 In this Court of Arezzo, with no prisoners at the bar 
 except the wretched Venerino, pale with long submer- 
 sion in jail, the worthy judge laid about him right and 
 left like a mad giant with a sword. In a trice he found 
 all three of the accused guilty, and promptly sentenced 
 Pompilia to penal servitude for life and Signor Guillichini 
 to five years' confinement in the dungeons at Portoferrio, 
 on the island of Elba, with the penalty of the galleys for 
 the same period of time. This latter was quite a severe 
 sentence for a gentleman who had done nothing more 
 than lie upon a bed of sickness and mutter from between 
 the sheets "Bon voyage!" to a runaway lady. The 
 commissioner generously allowed to both of the convicts 
 fifteen days in which to appear and clear themselves. 
 As for Venerino, the governor decided that "he be 
 not prosecuted further and be liberated from prison." 
 This deplorable cabman had surely had enough of the 
 law, for hei^had been sweltering in jail the whole summer 
 through, where he had gained such insight into things 
 as to make [him, no doubt, resolve never to let his fly 
 
 64
 
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 Guido Decides to Visit Rome 
 
 be used again for the conveyance of young unmarried 
 people along the Perugia road at two o'clock in the 
 morning. 
 
 This very Pantagruelian sentence needed to be con- 
 firmed by the Chancery of the Criminal Court at Florence, 
 and before that Court the matter came late in the year. 
 The judge who reviewed the case endorsed the verdict 
 of guilty against the first two prisoners — the young 
 countess and the gentleman who had been ill in bed ; 
 but he seemed to have been shocked by the severity 
 of their respective sentences, for he gave his decision 
 that Guillichini's sentence to the galleys should be sub- 
 ject to the pleasure of His Serene Highness, while, as 
 the countess was in Rome, secured in a sacred place, 
 he decreed that all action with reference to her punish- 
 ment should be suspended. Furthermore, the Court was 
 benevolent enough to express the opinion that Venerino 
 " had done no voluntary evil." 
 
 Above all this legal trumpeting the fact remained 
 that Pompilia Franceschini had been found guilty of 
 adultery by the Commissioner of Arezzo, and that 
 verdict had been confirmed by the Criminal Court at 
 Florence. Guido had now at last secured what he 
 wanted, and the very moment the decision at Florence 
 was assured he took his departure for Rome for the 
 second time. When his friends asked him why he 
 was going to Rome for Christmas, he answered cheerily 
 that he was going there to murder his wife. 
 
 65
 
 XI 
 
 THE MURDER IN THE VIA VITTORIA 
 
 WHILE all these things were stirring in Tuscany 
 there was no little excitement in Rome in the 
 quiet house in the Via Vittoria. On December 
 18th Pompilia gave birth to a son. It may well be 
 imagined that her delight was unbounded, that Violante 
 cackled up and down the street like a fussy hen, 
 while Pietro, with much enforced leisure on his hands, 
 held forth as to the wondrous faculties of the babe 
 to his friends at the tavern. Pompilia named her boy 
 *'Gaetano" after a recently canonised saint. In the 
 poem she tells why she chose the name. 
 
 " Something put it in my head 
 To call the boy * Gaetano ' — no old name — 
 For sorrow's sake ; I looked up to the sky 
 And took a new saint to begin anew. 
 One who has only been made saint — how long? 
 Twenty-five years : so, carefuller, perhaps. 
 To guard a namesake than those old saints grow 
 Tired out by this time, — see my own five saints ! " 
 
 St. Gaetan, moreover, w^as a saint after her own heart. 
 He w^as born of noble parents in Vicenza in the year 
 1480. He became a priest, and, travelling to Rome, 
 joined The Congregation of the Love of God. He 
 raised this body to great influence, making its chief 
 objects earnestness and simplicity of life and the care 
 of those w^ho were unhappy or in dire distress. His 
 
 66
 
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 The Murder in the Via Vittoria 
 
 life was one of suffering and self-denial. He died at 
 Naples in 1547, and was buried in that city. He was 
 canonised b}^ Clement X. in the year 1671, only twenty- 
 six years before Pompilia's boy was born. 
 
 That the Comparini had some anxiety as to the safety 
 of the child may be gathered from the fact that he was 
 sent away secretly almost immediately after his birth, 
 although in all probability his hiding place was not 
 very far from his mother's home. 
 
 Guido reached Rome on Christmas Eve, when the 
 city was rejoicing in its holiday, and when from every 
 campanile rang forth the message of "Peace on earth, 
 good will towards men." The church bells, the sounds 
 of merriment in the streets, the glimpses of happy 
 family gatherings seen through lamplit windows, the 
 pictures everywhere of the Madonna as the proud 
 mother with her babe, must have jarred upon his senses, 
 for he had not come to Rome to celebrate the birth of 
 Christ, but to kill his wife. 
 
 The noble count did not undertake this mission 
 alone. He had brought with him four agricultural 
 labourers as assistants. With so large a party one might 
 have supposed that he came with the object of farming 
 the waste places of Rome, had not these brawny louts 
 been engaged in the capacity of bravoes, and were pre- 
 pared, for a few scudi, to hack to pieces a girl of 
 seventeen who was just then scarcely able to rise from 
 her bed. Browning speaks of these willing countrymen 
 as "these God-abandoned wretched lumps of life," 
 and regards them as the last human clods in whom 
 any glimmer of intelligence may be traced. 
 
 They came from Vitiano, a village a few miles south 
 
 67
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 of Arezzo on the way to Perugia. In this place Guido 
 had a vineyard, and on this vineyard the four men were 
 employed when they were not whetting their daggers 
 on the vineyard wall. Guido went so far as to say 
 that at least one of these ruffians was possessed of such 
 a delicate and acute moral feeling that be begged to 
 be allowed the privilege of assisting his master in 
 avenging the stain upon his honour. A farm labourer 
 so sensitive on the subject of the purity of the home 
 must have been highly esteemed in the hamlet of 
 Vitiano. 
 
 The names of these four were interesting, inasmuch 
 as they seem in some sonorous way to be peculiarly 
 fitting to the men who bore them. Is not the name 
 of Blasio Agostinelli— sounding vaguely like a foreign 
 oath — an expressive title for a brigand ? Could Ales- 
 sandro Baldeschi — who was very busy with his dagger 
 by the by — be better named ? Or could a writer of 
 romance find more picturesque names for hired assassins 
 or robber chiefs than those of Domenico Gambassini 
 or Francesco Pasquini ? 
 
 Guido appears to have explained to his assistants 
 that, although the invalid countess was the main object 
 of his visit, there was a cackling old woman of sixty-six 
 and a doddering old man of sixty-nine who might need 
 to be destroyed, their deaths being, however, merely 
 incidental to the main slaughtering. 
 
 Five armed men, in the prime of life, seemed a large 
 number to be required for the stabbing of an aged 
 couple and a sick girl, but I think the cautious noble- 
 man had an idea that he might meet Caponsacchi in 
 this venture. He had seen enough of Caponsacchi to 
 
 68
 
 The Murder in the Via Vittoria 
 
 have no desire to encounter him again, while, on the 
 other hand, he felt that if supported by four savage 
 cut-throats, armed to the teeth, he would be able to 
 face an unarmed priest, even of the type of the one 
 he had come upon at Castelnuovo. 
 
 Guido and his party, on reaching Rome, concealed 
 themselves in Abbe Paolo's vineyard, near the Ponte 
 Milvio. The abbe had left Italy at least a month ago, 
 while a vineyard in December is little more than a desert 
 of gnarled sticks, so the retreat was good. There was 
 on the ground a so-called villa. It would be no more 
 than a garden house necessary for the operations in the 
 vineyard, with probably a superior room or two for the 
 use of the master in the summer. Here the count and 
 the four countrymen lay hidden for nine days. It must 
 have been a cheerless Christmas, made even morose 
 by contrast, for as they gathered round the scrap of 
 fire in the evening they could hear the sound of the 
 church bells in Rome. Here, behind closed shutters, 
 they would "Salute the happy morn," for here they 
 passed both Christmas Day and New Year's Eve. Two 
 of the cut-throats were mere lads, and when they heard 
 the Angelus ring on the last day of the old year, it is 
 possible that their thoughts travelled back to their 
 homes in Tuscany and that their hearts failed them. 
 
 How stirring was the Christmas festival in Rome 
 may be understood by the following extract from the 
 diary of John Evelyn. He spent the Christmas of 1644 
 in the city he calls "The Proud Mistress of the World." 
 "On Christmas Eve," he writes, "I went not to bed, 
 being desirous of seeing the many extraordinary cere- 
 monies performed then in their churches as midnight 
 
 69
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 masses and sermons. I walked from church to church 
 the whole night in admiration at the multitude of scenes 
 and pageantry which the friars had, with much industry 
 and craft, set out to catch the devout women and 
 superstitious sort of people, who never parted without 
 dropping some money into a vessel set on purpose ; but 
 especially observable was the puppetry in the Church 
 of the Minerva, representing the Nativity. I thence 
 went and heard a sermon at the ApoUinare, by which 
 time it was morning. On Christmas Day his Holiness 
 sang Mass, the artillery of St. Angelo went off, and 
 all this day was exposed the cradle of our Lord." 
 
 Guido would have found in the sitting-room of the 
 villa many tokens of his brother, which would remind 
 him of the days before they began to plot. "The idle 
 door that missed the master's step," the lonely room 
 with its grave silence broken only by an occasional 
 clatter of oaths from the kitchen, would have shaken 
 the resolve of many men, but Guido had done with 
 peace on earth, and was dead to good will towards 
 men. He sat in the dark, thumbing the edge of his 
 dagger, and cursing the cottagers who disturbed his 
 dream of death by chanting a hymn as they walked 
 back from the jubilant city. 
 
 On the evening of Thursday, January 2nd, the five 
 miscreants made their way into Rome. The moon 
 would be about rising, for it was full moon on December 
 30th. Entering the North gate they would find them- 
 selves at once in the Piazza del Popolo. But a little 
 way from the piazza, and approached either by the 
 Strada Paolina (now the Via del Babuino) or by the Corso, 
 was the quiet little lane known as the Via Vittoria. It 
 
 70
 
 27.— ON THE ROAD FROM ROME TO THE 
 PONTE MILVIO. 
 
 ^>*5^ 
 
 28. -FOUNTAIN BY THE ROADSIDE ON 
 THE WAY TO THE PONTE MILVIO.
 
 The Murder in the Via Vittoria 
 
 is significant that it was in the Piazza del Popolo that 
 these ruffians first trod the soil of Rome, since that soil 
 is also the last piece of ground touched by the feet of 
 many, the piazza being a place where criminals are 
 hanged. 
 
 They reached the house at the corner of the Via 
 Vittoria and the Strada Paolina about 8 o'clock in the 
 evening. Blasio and Gambassini were left on guard 
 in the street on either side of the house. Guido, who 
 had disguised himself as a countryman, walked up to 
 the door alone. He found it closed. He knocked and 
 could hear within a chair pushed back, and then foot- 
 steps in the passage. It was Violante who had risen and 
 was coming to the door. She asked who was there. 
 Guido replied in a feigned voice, "A messenger with a 
 letter from Canon Caponsacchi." In a moment the 
 bolts were withdrawn and the door thrown generously 
 open. There stood the smiling Violante, with her hand 
 outstretched for the note. Guido fell upon her and 
 hacked her to death. It was noted afterwards that most 
 of her wounds were in the face, in that hated face that 
 Guido loathed above all things in the world. Frances- 
 chini then rushed in, followed by two of his gang. 
 Pietro, dumbfounded with alarm, stood in the way. He 
 was cut down just as he — realising his fate — shrieked 
 out the word "Confession." 
 
 Now Pompilia, hearing this tumult in the doorw^ay, 
 this hideous riot of trampling feet, of yells and curses, 
 of groans and the thud of knives, blew out the light 
 and fled towards the door that opened on the courtyard, 
 where was an entry to a locksmith's house. Looking 
 back along the passage she saw the horrible figure of her 
 
 7*
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book 
 
 >> 
 
 husband coming towards her with a lantern in his hand, 
 spattered with blood, and snarling like a wolf. She 
 rushed into a room and hid under a bed. He followed, 
 and by the light of the lantern she could watch him 
 stalk into the room and then see his clawlike hand 
 feeling about to find her beneath the couch. He 
 gripped her, dragged her out — pulling the bed, to which 
 she clung, across the floor — and spluttering forth a torrent 
 of hate he stabbed her, like a frenzied epileptic, in more 
 than a score of places. The two bravoes had followed 
 their master, but the bloody deed was done, although 
 later on Pasquini boasted that he had inflicted four or 
 five additional wounds upon Pompilia in the back. The 
 brave Pasquini seemingly wished it to be known that 
 he had done something to earn his money. 
 
 Guido now called upon the two to make sure that 
 his wife was dead ; so one of them, probably the heroic 
 Pasquini, lifted her ofif the ground by her hair, and then 
 dropped her, so that she fell with her head on the body 
 of old Pietro, who was now quite still. 
 
 Once more all was silent, and in the pause Guido 
 would glance round the familiar room and recall the 
 time when he first met Pompilia there. Then stepping 
 over the three bodies that lay in his way, and giving a 
 vicious kick at Violante as he passed, he stepped out 
 into the street to join his companions. 
 
 The work had been well accomplished, except in 
 two particulars. In their haste one of the murderers 
 had left his coat in the house, while Guido, in groping 
 for his wife beneath the bed, had dropped his cap. 
 
 72
 
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 XII 
 
 GUIDO'S ARREST 
 
 THE Street was now in an uproar. Windows 
 were being thrown open and people were pour- 
 ing out of every door. The alarm had reached 
 the Corso, so that passers-by were running down the 
 Via Vittoria to the house at the corner. 
 
 The five made a dash for the Piazza del Popolo, 
 gained the gate, and sped for their lives along the 
 straight unlovely road that leads to the Ponte Milvio. 
 They made first of all for the house in the vineyard, 
 where they had been hiding, and then took the Via 
 Cassia, intending to make all speed for the Tuscan 
 frontier and Arezzo. They might have gone by the Via 
 Flaminia through Castelnuovo, but the road they selected 
 was the better of the two, since it led at once to the 
 open Campagna and was but little frequented. 
 
 Guido had made one mistake. He had provided 
 no horses for the journey home, and, moreover, had not 
 obtained the official permit, without which post-horses 
 could not be secured on the road. He stopped at the 
 first inn upon the way, and there demanded horses, with 
 threats of violence, but the landlord declined to furnish 
 them as the necessary order could not be produced. 
 Guido was disguised as a yokel and unattractive when 
 at his best. He therefore probably failed to convince 
 the linnkeeper that he was a distinguished nobleman, 
 
 72
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 and that the four unkempt savages with him were 
 members of his suite. 
 
 There was no course open to them, therefore, but 
 to proceed on foot ; so they made the best of their way 
 across the open Campagna, along a road w^hich was then, 
 as it is now, a track across an absolute solitude. After 
 tramping through the better part of the night they 
 arrived at the lonely "tavern of Merluzza," w-hich is 
 "towards Baccano." This inn is about 14| miles from 
 the walls of Rome and some 24 miles south of Baccano. 
 Here, utterly exhausted by their headlong flight and 
 attracted, no doubt, by the isolation of the inn, they sought 
 refuge and rest. In the first room they entered they 
 threw themselves dow^n to sleep, lying huddled together 
 like swine, wdth the blood hardly yet dry upon their 
 weapons. Here they were discovered at the break of 
 dawn by the police olBcers who had pursued them from 
 Rome. 
 
 The leader of the troop, one Captain Patrizi, had 
 shown remarkable promptitude in effecting this capture. 
 Hurrying to the scene of the murder he met a neighbour 
 who had overheard one of the assassins say, as they left 
 the house, "Let us make for the vineyard." To the 
 vineyard Patrizi and his party at once galloped, only to 
 find that the fugitives had left the place about an hour 
 before, and had gone " in the direction of the highway." 
 
 Guido and his companions, tied to horses and with 
 their arms pinioned behind their backs, were taken again 
 to Rome along the very road by which they had fled, 
 were taken across the Piazza del Popolo and by the end 
 of the Via Vittoria. As he looked down the street he 
 could see the gaping crowd standing and gossiping 
 
 74
 
 Guide's Arrest 
 
 still in front of the house where the murder had been 
 done. A great rabble of people, it is said, came out 
 to meet them, and by this hooting mob they were fol- 
 lowed to the Carceri Nuove, or New Prisons, in the Via 
 Giulia. They reached the prisons about 5 o'clock, on 
 the same evening. This was the identical jail in which 
 Pompilia and Caponsacchi had been confined after the 
 afTair at Castelnuovo. 
 
 Guido, who had probably been blustering and violent 
 when first arrested, received an item of news on his way 
 back to Rome which kept him silent for the rest of the 
 journey. He asked one of the police how it was that 
 they associated him with this particular murder in the 
 Via Vittoria. The officer answered, "Your wife told 
 us that you had stabbed her and her parents." It was 
 in this abrupt fashion that Guido learned that Pompilia 
 was yet alive. 
 
 75
 
 XIII 
 
 THE DEATH OF POMPILIA 
 
 POMPILIA died in the house in the Via Vittoria 
 which had been her home since childhood, and 
 in which she had met her woeful husband for the 
 last time. Browning, with great artistic effect, places 
 the scene of her death in a " hospital hard by," 
 *'in the long w^hite lazar house" of Saint Anna; but 
 no such house had any existence, while the entry in the 
 register of the Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina (given 
 at the end of this volume) shows that she died in the 
 street which had been familiar to her from babyhood. 
 
 Guido and his bravoes could hardly have clattered 
 out of sight before neighbours and passers-by poured 
 into the house, stumbling in the , dark over the dead 
 bodies by the door, slipping on the clotted blood in 
 the passage, and falling against the overturned furniture 
 which blocked their way. They would be guided by 
 the feeble moans which came from one black corner 
 in the little room. 
 
 The first person apparently to enter was one Giuseppe 
 d'Andillo. I think he must have been the locksmith 
 who lived next door. He picked Pompilia up from 
 the ground "where she lay in utter weakness because 
 of her wounds. She had her head upon the legs of 
 Signor Pietro Comparini, who was already dead." A 
 
 confessor and a surgeon were immediately sent for. 
 
 76
 
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 The Death of Pompilia 
 
 Pompilia was placed upon a bed, probably upon the 
 very bed underneath which she had crept when she 
 saw Guido coming along the passage with a lantern 
 and a dripping dagger. She made confession to the 
 Principal of the Greek College while she was being 
 held up in the arms of Giuseppe d'Andillo, "because," 
 as he says, " she could neither rise nor lie down." 
 The Greek College was — and still is — attached to the 
 Church of St. Atanasio, in the Strada Paolina, which 
 church is but a few doors from the scene of the 
 murder. The principal of the college appears to have 
 been the Abate Liberate Barberito, Doctor of Theology. 
 He was a foreigner, having come from Monopoli (near 
 Brindisi), in the Kingdom of Naples. The abate was 
 deeply impressed with Pompilia's Christian resignation, 
 with the generosity of her forgiveness, with the tender- 
 ness of her conscience, as well as with her heroism. 
 Indeed, he says that he had " never observed the dying 
 with like sentiments." 
 
 Besides these two, no fewer than eight other men 
 came to Pompilia's assistance, and of these at least four 
 appear to have been with her night and day until she 
 died. She had, indeed, around her bed ten devoted 
 men, but no mention is made, curiously enough, of 
 any women. Among the ten were Giovanni Guitens, 
 the apothecary; Luca Corsi, his assistant; and Giovanni 
 Mucha, the apothecary's boy. There were also Dionysio 
 Godyn and the Marquis Nicolo Gregorio, probably 
 passers-by, who dropped in on the raising of the alarm. 
 
 But the most devoted and the most worshipful of the 
 ten was a barefooted Augustinian named Fra Celestino 
 Angelo. His admiration of the dying Pompilia was 
 
 n
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book 
 
 )> 
 
 unbounded and indeed most pathetic. He was with 
 her *' from the first instant of her pitiful case, even to 
 the very end of her fife." He speaks of her as "that 
 ever blessed child," "that saint," "that martyr." He 
 maintains, with vehemence and enthusiasm, her absolute 
 innocence, tells how, with tears in her eyes and with 
 compassionate voice, she forgave her husband with all 
 her heart, and how she died with these last words on 
 her lips: "May God have pity on me." He marvels 
 at "the modesty and calm of so young a girl in the 
 presence of so many men," and is sure that her soul 
 was at one with God. Never did a woman have a 
 more whole-hearted champion than had Pompilia in the 
 person of this barefooted Augustinian friar. Fra Celestino 
 Angelo belonged to the Church of Gesu e Maria, a 
 church close by in the Corso, and in fact only a few 
 steps from the house in which the little countess died. 
 From the entry in the parish register (given at the 
 end of this volume) it will be seen that Pompilia 
 received all the most holy sacraments before she died, 
 and that, with her foster parents, Violante and Pietro 
 Comparini, she was buried in the Church of San Lorenzo 
 in Lucina. Pompilia died on January 6th, just four 
 days after her husband's murderous attack. 
 
 78
 
 XIV 
 
 THE TRIAL FOR MURDER 
 
 THE trial of Count Guido Franceschini and his 
 associates for the murders in the Via Vittoria was 
 commenced in Rome in January, 1698, and was 
 not concluded until the middle of February. The 
 president of the Court was His Reverence Marco An- 
 tonio Venturini, the Vice-Governor of Rome. The 
 counsel for the prosecution were Francesco Gambi, 
 Procurator of the Fisc (or Treasury) and Giovanni 
 Battista Bottini, Advocate of the Fisc. The defence 
 was undertaken by Giacinto Arcangeli, Procurator of 
 the Poor, and Desiderio Spreti, Advocate for the Poor. 
 Those who appeared against the prisoners were official 
 State attorneys, who held the position of the Public 
 Prosecutor of modern times. The counsel for the de- 
 fence also were attorneys provided by the State and 
 not advocates privately employed by the defendants. 
 Signor Arcangeli at one period takes pains to say, " I 
 have assumed the defence without a penny of com- 
 pensation." 
 
 According to the custom of the time the pleadings 
 were made in writing, in the form of "Memorials" laid 
 before the Court. The memorials presented by one 
 side would be answered by further memorials brought 
 forward by the other. These would all be in writing, 
 for no speeches were made before the judge. Thus 
 
 79
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Girolamo Lunadoro, in his very interesting " Relatione 
 della Corte di Roma,"* says: "The Advocate of the Poor 
 has charge to write free of cost for all poor and needy 
 persons." Moreover, he explains, in the same book, 
 the different functions of the procurator and the advo- 
 cate. The advocate, whether for the prosecution or the 
 defence, dealt with points of law, while the procurator 
 concerned himself with points of fact. Thus in the 
 documents set forth in the Yellow Book are both 
 memorials of law and memorials of fact. In addition 
 to the memorials, certain summaries were presented 
 by either side, in which were contained the attestations 
 of the various parties, together with any letters or docu- 
 ments bearing upon the case. 
 
 The defence of the prisoners was almost entirely 
 upon points of law. The murders could not be denied. 
 The prisoners had been captured red-handed. Pom- 
 pilia's testimony was clear and unassailable, while any 
 doubt as to the share taken by the five men before the 
 Court was cleared up by their own confessions, extracted 
 while they were under the torture. The lawyers for the 
 defence, indeed, concentrated all their forces upon the 
 attaining of two objects — upon proving that the murder 
 was justified, on the one hand ; and upon claiming an 
 exemption from the death penalty, should the Court 
 decline to accept justification, on the other. 
 
 Arcangeli and Spreti argued that a husband was 
 justified in killing an adulterous wife, and in thus wiping 
 out with her blood the stain of infamy cast upon his 
 honour. They maintained that Pomp ilia's adultery was 
 proved upon the following grounds : 
 
 * Padua, 1685. 
 80
 
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 The Trial for Murder 
 
 1. Her fleeing from her husband's home with the 
 young priest. 
 
 2. The love-letters which had passed between the 
 
 two. 
 
 3. The fact that they w^re seen kissing one another 
 in the carriage on the way to Perugia. 
 
 4. The fact that they occupied the same room at the 
 inn at Castelnuovo. 
 
 5. The clandestine visits paid by Caponsacchi to 
 Pompilia while she was with her foster parents in Rome. 
 
 6. The sentence of the judge upon the two after 
 their arrest at Castelnuovo. 
 
 To avoid repetition it may be well to give at once 
 the answer of the lawyers on the other side to these six 
 points : 
 
 1. Pompilia fled from Arezzo because she was fully 
 convinced that her life was in danger. She could not 
 make her way to Rome alone. She had consulted 
 Canon Conti on the subject. He was a relative and 
 familiar friend of the Franceschini, and it was he who 
 had advised the distressed woman to beg Caponsacchi 
 to conduct her to Rome. There is no trustworthy 
 evidence to show that Caponsacchi ever went to the 
 Franceschini Palace until he went there to take Pompilia 
 away. Had he been her lover, what need had they 
 to leave Arezzo at all, and why in their flight should 
 they have made such frantic haste to reach Rome of 
 all places in Italy ? There is not a scrap of evidence 
 forthcoming to support the idea of any intimacy between 
 Pompilia and the priest, the testimony of the wretched 
 woman Margherita Contenti being not worthy of a 
 hearing. 
 
 G 8 1
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 2 and 3. The questions of the love-letters and of the 
 reported kissing in the carriage have been already dis- 
 posed of (p. 55). Apart from the fact that Pompilia 
 was unable to write, and that the messages attributed to 
 Caponsacchi were not in his handwriting, the letters 
 themselves afford the best proof that they were forgeries. 
 The utter lack of probability in the statement of the 
 driver as to the kissing has been emphasised (p. 54), 
 while the circumstances under which his testimony was 
 given make his evidence of little value (p. 54). 
 
 4. Not one particle of evidence was adduced to 
 support the suggestion that any impropriety took place 
 at the inn at Castelnuovo. 
 
 5. The assertion that Caponsacchi visited Pompilia 
 after she had left the convent and had returned to the 
 house of the Comparini in the Via Vittoria is a reckless 
 fiction. There is, on the other hand, every assurance 
 that the priest never left Civita Vecchia between the 
 time of his banishment to that town and the fatal day 
 in January when the murders were committed. 
 
 6. With regard to the last-named point, it was 
 admitted that the decree of banishment of the priest was 
 worded as follows: "September 24, 1697. Giuseppe 
 Maria Caponsacchi of Arezzo, for complicity in flight 
 and running away of Francesca Comparini, and for 
 carnal knowledge of the same, has been banished for 
 three years to Civita Vecchia." It was, however, shown 
 that the words employed in this decree merely reproduce 
 the title or subject of the charge. They do not show 
 that the charge was proved, and indeed it never was 
 proved. The wording of the order was admitted by the 
 officials responsible for the same to be misleading and 
 
 82
 
 AREZZQ 
 
 Scale of Yards 
 IOC 200 300 400 500 
 
 33. — MAP OF AREZZO.
 
 The Trial for Murder 
 
 untrue, and a modification of the decree was allowed by 
 the Court. This item of supposed evidence therefore 
 came to nothing. 
 
 Count Guido's advocates w^ent on to state that the 
 delay in the killing of the errant wife did not make 
 her fault the less, and that the injury to the husband's 
 honour still remained, while the sense of his shame 
 was rather increased by reflection and a fuller contem- 
 plation of his position. 
 
 He might have killed Pompilia with impunity at 
 Castelnuovo, but he preferred to leave her punishment 
 to the law; moreover, he was alone, was exhausted by 
 his breathless journey and was not well enough armed 
 to meet so formidable an antagonist as the young priest. 
 The law failed him. He could not slay his wife so 
 long as she was confined in the convent, but he did 
 avenge his bitter wrong the moment that he found 
 that she was free. 
 
 The same injured honour which impelled Count 
 Guido to slay his wife, also justified him in slaying the 
 two Comparini. They had been the cause of the whole 
 trouble. They had tricked and robbed him. They 
 had foisted upon him a girl of the lowest origin, and 
 had thereby brought disgrace upon the name he bore 
 and exposed him to the contempt and ridicule of the 
 world. They had, moreover, aided and abetted Pompilia 
 in her infamous conduct, had sheltered an adulterous 
 woman, and had thereby condoned and apparently 
 approved her offence. Finally, it was in response 
 to the word " Caponsacchi " that Violante had opened 
 the door so readily on the fatal evening of January 
 2nd. 
 
 »3
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 The prosecution had brought against Count Guido 
 two other charges, both of which were punishable by 
 death : one was the carrying of prohibited arms, and 
 the other was the unlawful assembling together of armed 
 men. But as Guido had ample justification for taking the 
 life of his wife and of those who had assisted her, he 
 was also justified, it was urged, in taking such means 
 as he thought fit to effect this object. 
 
 As the trial proceeded, it was evident that the case 
 for the defence became weaker and weaker, until finally 
 the advocate, Spreti, devoted his energies to such argu- 
 ments as bore, not against a sentence, but against the 
 extreme sentence of the penalty of death. He quoted 
 many cases in support of his pleading, claimed consider- 
 ation for his client on the grounds of his being a 
 nobleman and connected in a minor degree with the 
 priesthood, and urged that the fault of his client — if any 
 — was the failure at once to kill the disgraced countess 
 when he caught her in company with the priest at 
 Castelnuovo. 
 
 The case for the prosecution was simple and very 
 readily placed before the Court. The crime was a 
 cowardly, cold-blooded murder of three helpless people, 
 plotted and carried out with the utmost deliberation. 
 The object of this wholesale slaughter was no other 
 than "damnable greed" on the one hand, and malignant 
 revenge on the other. Guido did not want his wife's 
 life : he wanted her money. He quietly waited until 
 after the child was born "in order that he might make 
 safe his succession to the property." 
 
 The plea of adultery was merely an excuse. The 
 
 charge, after the closest examination, remained unproved. 
 
 84
 
 t 
 
 34. — A STREET IN AREZZO.
 
 The Trial for Murder 
 
 Pompilia's dying statement as to her innocence must be 
 accepted as absolute truth. The young countess fled 
 from Arezzo because she believed her life to be in 
 danger. Assuming that her husband was honestly de- 
 ceived as to the reason for her flight, and that he was 
 convinced that she had left her home with Caponsacchi 
 because the priest was her lover, why had he not slain 
 her at Castelnuovo? He says that he was no match 
 for Caponsacchi, who was better armed than he was ; 
 but Caponsacchi had been immediately pinioned by the 
 police, and the injured husband had only to go up the 
 stair of the inn and stab his wife to death as she lay 
 in bed. 
 
 Admitting some error in this delay, Count Guido's 
 advocates claimed that he did execute sentence upon his 
 wife at the next available opportunity. It is true that he 
 could not approach her while she was under the charge 
 of the nuns at the convent; but she left the convent 
 for her father's house on October 12th, and the murder 
 did not take place until January 2nd. 
 
 He crept to his wife's house treacherously and in 
 disguise, and obtained an entry by means of a trick. 
 Had he still believed that he was justified in killing 
 his wife for an ofifence that had been committed eight 
 months previously, for what reason did he kill the two 
 old Comparini ? He deliberately came to Rome with 
 the intention of murdering all three, or he would not 
 have taken the trouble to bring so many armed men 
 with him all the way from Tuscany. 
 
 The crime was nothing more than a common, brutal, 
 carefully planned murder for the purpose of getting 
 possession of the money of the dead, and the only 
 
 85
 
 The Country of '*The Ring and the Book" 
 
 fitting punishment for so mean and dastardly a crime 
 was the penalty of death for all the five ruffians con- 
 cerned. 
 
 The Court found the prisoners guilty of wilful murder, 
 and declined to recognise any extenuating circumstances. 
 The sentence of death was passed upon them all. The 
 four countrymen we're condemned to be hanged, but 
 Guido, as being of noble birth, was allowed the sorry 
 privilege of meeting death by the edge of the exe- 
 cutioner's axe. 
 
 The decision of the Court was given on February 
 18th. Guido's friends at once demanded a stay of 
 execution on the ground that as the count had taken 
 some minor orders he could claim the benefit of clergy. 
 As a further ground for postponement it was urged that 
 one of the murderers, Francesco Pasquini, was a minor. 
 Both of these matters were referred to His Holiness 
 the Pope, who promptly disallowed both pleas, and 
 gave it as his decision that the law should take its 
 course. The Pope signed the warrant "of his own 
 accord" at eight o'clock on the evening of February 
 21st, whereupon the execution of the five prisoners was 
 fixed for the following day. 
 
 The Pope who thus comes into the story was Antonio 
 Pignatelli, a native of Naples, who held office under the 
 title of Innocent XII. At the time of Count Guido's 
 execution he was eighty-three years of age. He died in 
 1700, a little more than two years after he had signed the 
 fatal warrant. His coat of arms was the most curious 
 of any Pope, viz. on a plain shield three little earthern 
 ewers. This was in reference to his name, since " pigna- 
 tello " is a small earthern pot. His portraits show him 
 
 86
 
 The Trial for Murder 
 
 to be a man with a high forehead and a fine intellectual 
 face. He wore a little moustache, after the fashion of 
 the gallants of the time, with a small pointed tuft of 
 hair on the chin. While the upper part of his face 
 was that of a philosopher, the lower part was that of a 
 gay cavalier. 
 
 ^7
 
 XV 
 
 THE EXECUTION IN THE PIAZZA DEL POPOLO 
 
 VERY early on the morning of Saturday, February 
 22nd, long indeed before " lauds," or before a 
 streak of dawn had appeared in the skies, there 
 was some commotion in the New Prisons in the Via 
 Giulia. Franceschini and his companions had been in- 
 formed that their appeal had been refused, and that 
 they were to be put to death that very day. 
 
 To Count Guido the announcement was utterly un- 
 expected. He was at first dazed and stupefied, but 
 after a moment he said : 
 
 " I feared a heavy sentence, but not the sentence of 
 death." 
 
 The few curious folk who had gathered around the 
 prison door saw in the dark the Cardinal Acciaiuoli and 
 the Abate Panciatichi arrive, saw them silently admitted, 
 and the door close behind them. They had come to 
 administer the last consolations of the Church to these 
 five who were now entering the valley of the shadow 
 of death. Men passing in boats down the Tiber saw 
 unwonted lights in the prison and guessed the reason 
 of them. 
 
 In the meantime the Piazza del Popolo was the 
 scene of extraordinary activity. By the fluttering light 
 of many lanterns men were erecting a scaffold in the 
 centre of the piazza. The scaffold was lofty, and the 
 
 88
 
 35.- THE CHURCH OF SANTA MARIA BELLA PIEVE, 
 
 AREZZO. 
 
 Caponsacchi's church.
 
 The Execution in the Piazza del Popolo 
 
 steps that led to its high platform were steep. Up 
 this stair two men, illumined by eager lantern-bearers, 
 were staggering under a heavy burden. It was the 
 headsman's block, and its disposal on the scaffold was 
 the subject of much comment and possibly of some 
 coarse jesting. On either side of the mannaia was a 
 gallows, from the cross beams of which two ropes, with 
 a noose at the end of each, were dangling. The country- 
 man coming in through the gate with his cattle need 
 not be told that five men were to die that day. It 
 was with dumb amazement that these early-comers 
 viewed the piazza. The place at night was generally 
 as silent as a glen in the Campagna, and was a spot 
 where both the sheep and their shepherds could sleep 
 until it was light enough to make for the market-place 
 of Rome. 
 
 In the piazza itself people were busy putting up 
 stands for those who would witness the spectacle. "In 
 spite of the vastness of the piazza, not a single foot 
 was left which was not occupied by stands, which were 
 covered with tapestry and other ornaments forming a 
 theatre for festal celebrations rather than for a solemn 
 tragedy." Windows were already being thrown open 
 and chairs placed in the rooms behind them. It is 
 said that some windows brought as much as six scudi ; 
 that is to say, twenty-four shillings in modern currency. 
 
 As the day wore on, the crowd around the door of 
 the jail in the Via Giulia increased until the street and 
 lanes that led into it were blocked. As the hour drew 
 near to two o'clock in the afternoon a hush fell upon 
 the chattering crowd, and a company of police made 
 
 a way through the mob for the dreadful Brotherhood of 
 
 89
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Death. As these holy men marched with awful steps to 
 the prison door a hum filled the street like the buzzing 
 of a countless multitude of bees, a hum made up 
 by whispers from a thousand lips, and by the 
 shuffling of a thousand feet. Every hat would be 
 removed as the posse of dark men passed by, men 
 without faces, men above whose shoulders rose a black 
 conical hood with holes for eyes that none could see. 
 The one who led bore aloft a towering cross, upon which 
 was stretched a Christ with open arms, while those who 
 followed chanted with voices muffled in their hoods 
 "the lamentable psalm," "Out of the depths, O Lord, 
 have I cried unto Thee." Behind this doleful proces- 
 sion followed five common carts. 
 
 In a while the prisoners would issue one by one 
 through the prison door, would give a startled look as 
 the sudden light of the street dazzled them, and as 
 they saw stretched out to right and left the pitiless 
 morass of human faces. The first to mount the cart was 
 Agostinelli, and the second who came was Gambassini. 
 These were the two who kept watch while the murders 
 were being done, and it was considered that of the 
 five they were the least blameworthy. The third to 
 step out into the light and climb into the cart was the 
 lad Pasquini, for whom indulgence had been pleaded 
 because of his age. He it was who owned that he had 
 stabbed PompiUa in the back after her husband had 
 done his worst upon her. The fourth to emerge was 
 Baldeschi. He took his share in the stabbing, and was 
 the oldest of the four who had come from Tuscany to 
 help in the massacre. He it was who was so obstinate 
 
 in his denial of guilt that he refused to confess until 
 
 90
 
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 The Execution in the Piazza del Popolo 
 
 he had twice swooned under the terrible torture of "the 
 cord." He it was who for so long declined the offices 
 of the Church, "having a heart hardened by many years 
 of evil life." 
 
 Last of all came Count Guido Franceschini, the 
 most composed and the most intrepid of the five. He 
 shunned the gaze of the crowd, for he kept his eyes 
 fixed upon the crucifix he held in his hand. He wore 
 the same garb as when he committed the crime, and 
 presumably the same as when he set out from Arezzo. 
 This clothing is described as composed of " a coat of 
 brown cloth, a black shirt, a vest of goats'-hair, a white 
 hat and cotton cap." 
 
 When all the carts were filled the procession started 
 for the Piazza del Popolo. It was a long way to go. 
 The route was by the Via del Pellegrino, the Via 
 del Governo Vecchio, the Piazza Navona, the Piazza 
 Colonna, where lived the female hairdresser, and the 
 Corso. Before the end of the Corso was reached the pro- 
 cession would pass the Via Condotti, where the Abate 
 Paolo resided, and the Via Vittoria, where all the 
 trouble began and where it ended (see Maps of 
 Rome, Plates 16 and 105). 
 
 In the Piazza Pasquino is the little church called 
 the Church of the Agonizzanti. Here the procession 
 halted, the five tumbrels, the company of hooded priests 
 with their uplifted cross, and the unseemly rabble who 
 by clinging to the sides of the carts had followed the 
 dismal column through the narrow streets of the city. 
 
 In this little square, according to the custom of the 
 Church, the Last Sacrament was administered to the five 
 men who were nearing the end of their last journey. 
 
 9^
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 They received the Sacrament kneeling, and, according 
 to the testimony of one who reported the occurrence, 
 the people crowding the square or hanging out of every 
 window that gave a view of the church were moved 
 to tears. 
 
 The five criminals were executed in the order in 
 which they left the prison. The first to die was 
 Agostinelli by hanging, while the last was Count Guido, 
 whose head was struck off by the executioner's axe. 
 The final act in this dreadful tragedy was completed 
 when the executioner held Guido's head aloft, gripping 
 it by the hair, the sightless eyes being turned towards 
 the open gate and the road that led to Tuscany. 
 
 92
 
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 00
 
 XVI 
 
 THE EPILOGUE 
 
 AS the last of the five carts — each carrying a dead 
 man — moved out of the Piazza del Popolo into 
 the Corso, the story came to an end, and with 
 the settling of the wintry night upon the now silent 
 piazza the black curtain of oblivion fell upon this 
 astonishing tragedy. Just for one moment, however, 
 was the curtain raised again, and someone stepped out 
 upon the empty stage to speak. He who spoke was 
 one Antonio Lamparelli, Procurator of Charity. The 
 purport of his speech was as follows, and it came as a 
 very suitable epilogue to the drama. 
 
 There was in the Corso an ancient convent, founded 
 in 1520, known as the Venerable Convent of Saint 
 Mary Magdalen of the Convertites. The nuns, when 
 the murder trial was over, laid claim to the whole of 
 Pompilia's property on the ground of the right they 
 possessed of acquiring the possessions of women of evil 
 life who had died in Rome. The Procurator of the 
 convent advanced the plea that the dead woman, 
 Pompilia, had led an evil life, and that therefore such 
 property as she possessed passed to the Order for whom 
 he spoke. This demand was stoutly resisted by 
 Domenico Tighetti, the heir beneficiary or executor of the 
 little countess. The result was another lawsuit in which 
 Tighetti wasjhe plaintiff and the Fisc the defendant. 
 
 93
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 It is interesting to note that the case was heard 
 before Marco Antonio Venturini, the Vice-Governor of 
 Rome, who had been the judge in the great murder 
 trial just completed. 
 
 The whole story was gone over again from the be- 
 ginning at Arezzo, when someone threw confetti into 
 Pompilia's lap, to the end at Castelnuovo, when the 
 two runaways were arrested and taken away to prison. 
 
 The result of the trial was a brilliant triumph for 
 Pompilia; while at the same time the announcement 
 of the judge's decision must have been received with 
 reverent satisfaction by the lonely man who was in 
 banishment at Civita Vecchia. 
 
 The Instrument of Final Judgment, as it was called, 
 was delivered on September 9th, 1698, exactly five 
 years, almost to the day, after Pompilia's marriage. It 
 contained this declaration : " We say, pronounce, de- 
 clare, and finally adjudge from what has been newly 
 deduced, that proof is not established as regards the 
 pretended adultery, and therefore the memory of Fran- 
 cesca Pompilia should be and is entirely restored to her 
 pristine good name and reputation. And we charge 
 that perpetual silence be imposed upon the Fisc and 
 his consorts in the suit." 
 
 Throughout the whole of the Yellow Book, volu- 
 minous though it be, there are only two references to 
 Pompilia's personal appearance. The lawyer, Bottini, who 
 was the counsel for the prosecution in the murder trial, 
 says this : She is "in the flower of her age, and, as I 
 have heard, of no small reputation for beauty"; while 
 Antonio Lamparelli, who utters this epilogue, speaks of 
 her, with simple admiration, as "a beautiful woman." 
 
 94
 
 Part Two 
 THE COUNTRY OF THE STORY
 
 1 
 
 ROME 
 
 1. THE VIA VITTORIA 
 
 THE Via Vittoria — the home of the Comparini — 
 is a little lane, long and straight, which runs from 
 the north end of the Corso into the Via del 
 Babuino. It is a street of mediaeval Rome, and is yet 
 in that part of the city which is best known to strangers, 
 for it nearly reaches the Piazza di Spagna, which is the 
 Leicester Square of modern Rome, where the Italian goes 
 to study the foreigner (see Map of Rome, Plate 16). 
 
 The street is narrow, being only some 18 feet wide 
 from wall to wall, while the road is paved in all its 
 length like a courtyard (Plate 1). As the Via Vittoria lies 
 east and west, and as its houses are lofty, it comes to pass 
 that very little sun can penetrate into its deeper depths. 
 In the winter, indeed, it lies in the shadow the whole 
 day long. At such a time, to turn from the crowded 
 Corso, dazzling with sun, into the quiet Via Vittoria, 
 is Hke stepping into the aisle of an ancient church from 
 the broad roadside. 
 
 The place is hushed. The atmosphere that fills it 
 
 seems to be tinted, so that one would expect a white 
 
 paper held in the hand to look brown. There is at 
 
 such time night in the street but day in the sky, for 
 
 the peaks of the roofs, the parapets and the chimneys 
 
 are made golden by a blaze of sun which, here and 
 
 there, cuts notches on the dark north walls. Where a 
 H 97
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 cross street strikes this lane of shadows a clear-cut sheet 
 of sunlight will cross the road, like a plank of burnished 
 metal laid over a dark stream. Even in the brilliant 
 days of spring, the Via Vittoria seems to be a laggard 
 street, hardly yet awake, but rather blinking like a 
 drowsy owl in a niche away from the glare of noon. 
 
 The houses are for the most part drab, flat and un- 
 interesting. As a piece of affectation, the windows are 
 as lavishly provided with sun-shutters as if both rows of 
 houses stood on a blinding beach, instead of forming the 
 side of a deep brick and plaster trench. The present 
 houses do not differ greatly from the humbler dwelling 
 houses of Rome in Pompilia's time. This may be 
 gathered to some extent from Vasi's prints (Plates 4 and 
 22), but with greater precision from certain detailed draw- 
 ings of Rome at the commencement of the eighteenth 
 century to be found in La Galleria Nazionale (Palazzo 
 Corsini).* 
 
 It will be noted that the older houses were lower, 
 and possessed, as a rule, only two storeys, that they had 
 sloping, red-tiled roofs, the eaves of which hung well 
 over the house wall, that many of the windows had a 
 rounded arch in place of being square, and that sun- 
 shutters were unknown. There are only a few old 
 houses still in the Via Vittoria with which Pompilia 
 must have been familiar. One, indeed, is only of two 
 storeys, and has the overhanging roof of earlier days 
 (Plate 2). These old houses have arched doorways of 
 stone, supported very often on either side by pilasters 
 of no small pretence. Some will have within a stone 
 staircase, while at the end of the passage may possibly 
 
 * Note, for example, drawings Nos. 151, 152 and 1,035. 
 
 98
 
 
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 The Via Vittoria 
 
 be a glimpse of an ornamental court, or of a tiny garden. 
 There are fine iron fanlights over a few of the door- 
 ways, and certain of the lower windows are barred with 
 very lusty metal work. 
 
 There remains one charming feature about the Via 
 Vittoria which must have been a delight to its inhabitants 
 even long ago. High above the east end of the street 
 there rises, in the gap of sky between the housetops, 
 the crown of the Pincian Hill, covered with trees, and 
 looking — at a distance — like a great green bush. At the 
 time that the Comparini lived in Rome this height was 
 occupied by a kitchen garden, owned by the monks of 
 Santa Maria del Popolo.* 
 
 It is evident that the Via Vittoria has seen better 
 days, and that it was, at one time, quite a fashionable, 
 well-to-do street, holding its head high in the world. 
 Some of the houses are so large as to be almost mansions. 
 One of the most notable of these has a marble tablet in 
 the wall to commemorate the fact that the great Garibaldi 
 once lived under its roof. The residents in the quarter 
 are now humbler folk, who hang mattresses out of the 
 upper windows when any sun comes their way. They 
 themselves hang out of window on occasion and con- 
 verse with neighbours who in like manner project into 
 the street. There are shops in the lane. These, although 
 very small, meet the demands of varied tastes. There 
 is a provision shop exhibiting hams and bladders of lard, 
 a shop also for the sale of charcoal — a mere cellar entry 
 — kept by a man as black as his goods, a shoemaker's 
 
 *"La Corte e la Societa Romana nei XVIII. e XIX. secoli." By Signer 
 Silvagni. Translated by F. Maclaughlin, London, 1885. The same fact is 
 noted also in the Diary of John Evelyn, who was in Rome in 1644. 
 
 99
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 shop, a chairmaker's, an emporium for seals and rubber 
 stamps, as well as a place where the housewife can buy 
 feather brushes and string. Probably such shops as these 
 did not exist when Pompilia lived in Rome, but there 
 is an ancient-looking wine shop in the street, where 
 "choice wines of Frascati " are to be obtained, which 
 might have been known to Pietro Comparini, who was, 
 it will be remembered, "a frequenter of taverns." 
 
 The street being quiet and shady, and little troubled 
 by traffic, is a favourite haunt of children, and it may 
 be assumed that it was no less pleasant a playground 
 when Pompilia was a little girl. During the carnival 
 I came upon a party of boys — three in number — who 
 were holding quite a festa in the Via Vittoria. They 
 were squatting in the road playing cards. To give the 
 gathering a proper convivial dignity, they had stuck 
 four paper flags between the paving stones, and within 
 the square thus distinguished the game was proceeding. 
 Four oranges placed on the ground within the flags 
 provided the suggestion of bons viveurs taking their ease 
 after a banquet. The game apparently required four 
 players, and as the number of boys was limited to 
 three, a small girl had been drawn in to make the fourth. 
 She sat on a newspaper, spread, courtier fashion, on the 
 bare road, seemed very shy and meek, and was treated 
 by the boys w^ith marked condescension. She was so 
 pretty and so plaintive-looking that she might have been 
 Pompilia as she would have appeared some few years 
 before she became a countess. 
 
 lOO
 
 40. — THE TOWN WALL OF AREZZO, FROM THE OUTSIDE, 
 Showing the base of the Torrione. 
 
 41. THE WALL OF AREZZO BY THE TORRIONE, 
 Over which Pompilia and Caponsacchi climbed in their escape.
 
 2. THE HOUSE OF THE COMPARINI 
 
 THE house in which Pietro and Violante Comparini 
 lived was at the corner of the Via Vittoria and 
 the Via del Babuino. This is made evident by 
 the following facts. When the Comparini first appear 
 upon the scene they are described as living in the Via 
 Vittoria. In the notification of their deaths in the 
 registry of San Lorenzo in Lucina it is written that 
 " they died of sundry wounds in the house where 
 they were living in the Strada Paolina " (see the copy 
 of the Register at the end of this volume). At the 
 end of the seventeenth century the Via del Babuino 
 was known as the Strada Paolina. Pompilia's letter 
 to her father, written from the prison in Castelnuovo 
 in the May preceding her death, was addressed to 
 Signor Pietro Comparini, Via Vittoria, Rome. That 
 the house occupied was the same from the begin- 
 ning of the story to the end is made evident by a 
 passage from the Yellow Book. The writer is speaking 
 of the rupture with the Franceschini at Arezzo and of 
 the return of the old couple to Rome. He says, "When 
 Pietro and his wife decided to return to Rome they 
 were provided with money for the journey, and in 
 Rome with furniture to put in order the house they 
 had lefty 
 
 At which corner at the end of the street the house 
 stood it is impossible to say, while, unhappily for those 
 
 lOI
 
 The Country of *' The Ring and the Book" 
 
 who are interested in the place where Pompilia spent 
 her childhood, both the corner houses have been quite 
 recently rebuilt. They are now represented by modern 
 shops highly esteemed by tourists, for this end of the 
 Via Vittoria thrusts itself into the very heart of the 
 tourist quarter. The shops are devoted to the sale of 
 bronze figures on the one hand, and of marble statuettes 
 on the other, so that the traveller who lingers by the 
 plate glass window, hesitating whether he should buy a 
 bronze copy of the Dying Gladiator, or a replica in 
 marble of the Capitoline Venus, may be standing on 
 the very spot where Agostinelli and Gambassini kept 
 guard while Guido, dagger in hand, crept up to the 
 door and knocked. 
 
 The Via del Babuino, or Strada Paolina, may be 
 regarded as the "High Street" of the foreign quarter. 
 It connects the Piazza del Popolo with the Piazza di 
 Spagna. It is a street of considerable interest. The 
 name Via del Babuino, or Street of the Baboon, is de- 
 rived from the circumstance that half-way down the road* 
 there was, until recently, a fountain with the mutilated 
 figure of a satyr on it. To this statue, the people of 
 Rome — with reckless views upon natural history — gave 
 the name of "II Babuino," the Baboon. 
 
 " Baboon Street " was undoubtedly the popular name 
 of the causeway, and, in the guide-books of the time, it is 
 so called. One of the most interesting ' ' Guides ' ' to Rome, 
 published in the latter part of the seventeenth century, 
 is that by Signor MartineUi, who is at pains to describe 
 only "what he has seen with his own eyes" and who 
 bases his book upon a plan which enables the tourist to 
 
 ♦The position of the figure is shown in Falda's Plan, Plate io6. 
 
 1 02
 
 The House of the Comparini 
 
 see all the sights of Rome in eleven days.* He places 
 the Via del Babuino in his list of " strade principal!, " 
 although Silvagni, in his account of the Eternal City 
 at this period, declares that "The Via Babuino was about 
 as mean and squalid a street as there was in Rome." The 
 names of Roman streets were constantly being changed — 
 an inconvenient habit, with which but a slight study of 
 the older descriptions of the city will make the reader 
 familiar. The name Strada Paolina was the official title 
 of this particular road, as is rendered manifest by the 
 maps and plans of the period. 
 
 The most valuable and interesting map of Rome 
 dealing with the time of the Franceschini story is that 
 drawn by Antonio Tempesta and "newly engraved, 
 enlarged, embellished and brought up to date by Giacomo 
 de Rossi." This map, enlivened wdth colours, is about 
 ten feet long and four feet wide. It was published in 
 1664. It is rather a bird's-eye view of the Rome of the 
 day than a mere plan. It reproduces the details of all 
 the chief buildings and gives some idea of the general 
 aspect of the streets. The street in question is the 
 "Strada Paulina," while the exact position of "II 
 Babuino" is clearly marked. The houses in the Via 
 Vittoria are represented as comparatively humble, while 
 it is shown that at the backs of the houses were court- 
 yards and gardens, and it is to be inferred that the larger 
 of these courts were common to the houses that abutted 
 upon them. At the time of the murder on January 2nd, 
 it is told in the Yellow Book how Pompilia, hoping to 
 escape the assassins, extinguished the light "and ran to 
 the neighbouring door of a locksmith, crying out for 
 
 * " Roma." By Signer Fiorav.intc Martinclli. Padua, 1650. 
 
 103
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 help." Now as the front of the house was swarming 
 with the bravoes, and as escape in that direction was 
 impossible, it must be that the locksmith's door opened 
 into one of those common courtyards at the backs of 
 the houses, which the map so clearly shows. De Rossi's 
 fine drawing indeed makes this somewhat obscure episode 
 in the account of the tragedy perfectly intelligible (this is 
 made clear also in Falda's map reproduced in Plate 106). 
 
 Tempesta's and Falda's maps demonstrate that, at the 
 time of their making, the well-known Spanish Steps rising 
 out of the Piazza di Spagna did not exist.* In their place 
 was a mound or slope dotted with trees and intersected 
 by winding paths, having at its foot the ridiculous 
 ship fountain, and on its summit the Santissima Trinita 
 de'Monti (see Falda's map, Plate 106). The Piazza di 
 Spagna does not figure in the story of Pompilia, although 
 Browning describes Pietro, " periwig on head and cane 
 in hand," strolling into the square, "toward the Boat- 
 fountain where our idlers lounge," in order to inquire 
 of the gossips what they knew of his wife's noble friend. 
 Count Guido Franceschini. 
 
 Falda's plan further shows the convent of Santa 
 Maria Maddalena delle Convertite. It will be remem- 
 bered that this religious body laid claim to Pompilia's 
 property after her death (p. 93). The building has long 
 since been pulled down. It stood in the Corso, occupy- 
 ing the whole of the area between the Via delle Convertite 
 and the Via S. Claudio. As will be seen from the plan, 
 the chapel of the convent was in the Corso, while two 
 courtyards and a garden were enclosed by the very ex- 
 tensive conventual buildings. 
 
 * The Scala di Spagna, with its 137 steps, was constructed in 1721-25. 
 
 104
 
 
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 ^' 
 
 42.— THE COUNTRY BETWEEN AREZZO AND ROME. 
 
 The Route taken by Pcmpilia in her flight is shown thus^—
 
 3. THE NEIGHBOURHOOD OF THE VIA VITTORIA 
 
 THOSE who rushed to Pompilia's assistance, when 
 the attack was made upon the house, believed 
 her to be dying, and consequently a confessor 
 was sent for with the utmost haste. The nearest church 
 to the scene of the murder is the Church of Sant' 
 Atanasio in the Via del Babuino (see Plate 106). This 
 church is attached to the Greek College, founded in 
 1580, and it was to the principal of this college that 
 she made confession, as she lay in the arms of Giuseppe 
 d'Andillo (p. 77). The church and the college' still 
 stand. The former is an imposing structure of reddish- 
 grey brick with two low towers. It is dry and dusty- 
 looking, as if bleached by centuries of sun, but is 
 otherwise unchanged since the time when the priest ran 
 down the street to the house at the corner and pushed 
 his way through the crowd to Pompilia's room. 
 
 Quite near at hand also is the Church of Gesu e 
 Maria. It stands in the Corso, a small, plain, stolid 
 building of grey stone, not unlike an overgrown 
 mausoleum (see Plate 106). It was from here there came 
 the barefooted Augustinian friar, Celestino Angelo, who 
 comforted Pompilia in her dying hours and who bore 
 such fervent testimony to her innocence and Christian 
 fortitude (p. 77). 
 
 An idea of the general appearance of the Corso 
 about the time with which the story is concerned can 
 
 105
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 be gathered from Vasi's print (Plate 4). It is the Corso 
 as Pompilia knew it. It shows that part of the great 
 highway which must have been especially familiar to 
 the Comparini, since it lies between the Via Vittoria 
 and the parish church of San Lorenzo in Lucina. The 
 raised sidewalk for foot passengers — now no longer 
 existing — will be noticed. There is little doubt that it 
 was along this path, lifted well out of the mud, that 
 Pompilia and her mother walked on their return from 
 the wadding. The street in the extreme left-hand 
 corner of the plate is the Via Condotti, where the Abate 
 Paolo lived, while the turning just beyond the palace 
 leads, on the other side of the road, to the church 
 above named, where Pompilia was married. Two 
 streets only separated the Via Condotti from the Via 
 Vittoria. 
 
 Silvagni, in his account of Rome in the eighteenth 
 century, writes in this manner: "The streets were with- 
 out names, the houses without numbers, the roofs without 
 gutters and the shop windows without glass. There were 
 no foot pavements, no lamps, no names over the trades- 
 people's premises. Iron or wooden signboards, typical 
 of the business carried on within, hung, however, at 
 
 the doors of the shops There were huge open 
 
 drains full of filth and nastiness of every kind running 
 down the middle of most of the streets, the Corso in- 
 cluded. As an exception to the general rule, the Corso 
 had a side-walk for foot passengers raised above the 
 roadway all along it."* 
 
 * " Rome. Its Princes, Priests and People." A translation by Fanny 
 Maclaughlin of Signor Silvagni's " La Corte e la Societa Romana nei XVIII 
 e XIX secoli." London, 1885. Vol. I., p. 6. 
 
 106
 
 
 43.-VITIANO, WHENCE CAME THE FOUR BRAVOES. 
 
 r 
 
 v.- -i\ 
 
 44. — A TYPICAL WAYSIDE COTTAGE ON THE ROUTE 
 OF POMPILIA'S FLIGHT.
 
 The Neighbourhood of the Via Vittoria 
 
 Except for the artistic omission of the open drain, 
 Vasi's print well bears out this description. 
 
 That cheerful and most facetious traveller, M. de 
 Brosses, visited Rome in 1739 or 1740 and lodged in 
 the Piazza di Spagna. He states that even at that 
 time only one-third of the city of Rome was really in- 
 habited, viz. the quarter between the Tiber, the Monte 
 della Trinita, the Monte Cavallo and the Capitol. "All 
 the rest," he says, "consists of gardens, fields, huge 
 buildings, ruins, and a few sparsely populated streets 
 here and there."* There were no quays along the 
 river sides, while the Villa Borghese is described as in 
 the country. He estimates the population of Rome at 
 50,000. It is now 500,000. 
 
 The Earl of Perth, who was resident in Rome just 
 two years before Guido's execution, was also much 
 impressed with the poverty of the city. He lived on 
 the Pincio, and had close acquaintance with that 
 very Pope, Innocent XII., who signed Guido's death 
 warrant. "The Pope," he writes, "is a very handsome 
 old man as ever I saw .... he's a worthy good old 
 man ; he's of great quality and has the manner of it ; 
 he's now eighty years and four moneths, yet very 
 vigorous." t 
 
 Venuti's famous drawings of Rome in the early part 
 of the eighteenth century show the city to be untidy and 
 disordered, covered with ruins and weeds, with heaps 
 of stones, earth and rubbish, while market booths, huts 
 
 * ** Letters of de Brosses." Translated by Lord Ronald Gower. London, 
 1897. 
 
 t " Letters of James, Earl of Perth." London, Camden Society, 
 
 1845. 
 
 107
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book^' 
 
 and hovels were planted in any piazza, however magni- 
 ficent.* 
 
 Venuti, indeed, depicts Rome as a squalid and sombre 
 city, neglected and uncared for ; and to this picture the 
 written accounts of the time add details which serve 
 only to deepen the shadows — details as to the lawless- 
 ness of a place where no young woman could walk 
 abroad without protection, and where in every filthy 
 by-way after dark it was safe to assume that a footpad 
 or two were hiding. 
 
 On the other hand, there was at this time a great 
 deal in Rome that was magnificent, besides its ancient 
 monuments and vast ruins, and many pleasant places 
 which were neither squalid nor uncared for. This may 
 be gathered from the chatty accounts in the famous 
 Diary of John Evelyn. John Evelyn reached Rome on 
 the 4th of November, 1644, " about five at night," wet 
 to the skin and on horseback. He found a lodging, as 
 most English travellers did, near the Piazza di Spagna. 
 
 He remained in Rome nearly three months, during 
 which time he took " some lessons on the theorbo." 
 He was much impressed by many of the mansions and 
 villas, and especially with the gardens. "The garden," 
 he writes, "which is called the Belvedere di Monte 
 Cavallo is most excellent for air and prospect; its ex- 
 quisite fountains, close walks, grots, piscinas, or stews 
 for fish, planted about with venerable cypresses and 
 refreshed with water music, aviaries and other rarities." 
 He found the Villa Borghese, with its " baluster of white 
 marble with frequent jettos of water," exceedingly noble, 
 
 * " Descrizione Topografica delle Antichita di Roma." By R. Venuti. 
 Rome, 1763. 
 
 108
 
 o 
 
 2 
 
 o ^ 
 
 tt, O 
 
 2 2 
 
 2 S 
 
 < c 
 
 U O 

 
 The Neighbourhood of the Via Vittoria 
 
 and the garden, with "all sorts of delicious fruit and 
 exotic simples, fountains of sundry inventions . . . and 
 a volary full of curious birds, an elysium of delight." 
 
 The Ruspoli Palace, shown in Vasi's print (Plate 4), 
 was built in 1586, and still stands in the Corso. It would 
 have been very familiar to Pompilia. It once belonged to 
 the Caetani. It will be noticed that the central entrance 
 of the mansion is walled up. It was in this entry that 
 one of the Caetani was stabbed to death by a member 
 of the Orsini family, whereupon the order was given 
 that the great door should be closed for ever. The 
 palace is no longer palatial looking, and, massive as it is, 
 it is no longer even dignified. The windows have been 
 modernised, and the stately rooms given up to offices. 
 Indeed, when I last passed the palace it was in part 
 devoted to a cinematograph show, while the walls about 
 the spot where the young Caetani fell were flaming with 
 posters representing a woman, with very clenched teeth, 
 jumping out of the carriage of an express train. 
 
 The Via Condotti, or Conduit Street, leads from the 
 Corso to the Piazza di Spagna. In it stands the House 
 of the Order of the Knights of Malta. If one can judge 
 from the gorgeousness of the porter at the gate, the 
 Order is still wealthy and flourishing. The building is of 
 considerable size, but although it has been modernised, 
 it probably conforms in its general outlines with the 
 chapter house of two centuries ago. A fine archway 
 leads into a little courtyard, an exquisite tiny cloister- 
 garth, brilliant with flowers, draped with green creepers, 
 and shaded in one corner by a comely pepper tree. 
 Against one white wall is a fountain basin, and above 
 
 this little pool, on a shield of crimson, is emblazoned the 
 
 109
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Maltese cross (Plate 7). Guide's brother, the Abate Paolo 
 Franceschini, was appointed secretary to this ancient 
 Order in 1693, and in this stately building most assuredly 
 he dwelt. It may be surmised that his window looked 
 into this little green courtyard, and that his evil-plotting 
 brain was lulled by the sound of water dripping in the 
 fountain, and that the sweet quietude and happy inno- 
 cence of the spot so jarred with his black and bloody 
 thoughts as to impel him to flee from Rome for ever. 
 
 no
 
 4. THE STREET OF THE LION'S MOUTH 
 
 TURNING out of the Via Vittoria is a street called 
 the Via Bocca di Leone. It is wider than the Via 
 Vittoria, and a street of greater pretension, for it 
 contains many fine old town houses with handsome 
 doorways, heavily barred windows and dignified court- 
 yards. It was never a mean street. Indeed, some two 
 hundred years ago it must have given quite an aristo- 
 cratic bearing to the quarter and have echoed with the 
 rumble of gilded carriages and the laughter of gaily 
 dressed people. It was down this street that Browning 
 makes Pompilia hurry on her way to the church on 
 that dismal evening, howling with rain, when — according 
 to his statement — she was married. The lane, indeed, 
 would be the shortest way from the Comparini house 
 to San Lorenzo in Lucina. 
 
 The street, however, has another interest. At that 
 end of it which is the nearer to the Via Vittoria is a 
 large, heavy, neglected-looking house of five storeys. 
 But for its sun-shutters it is no more than a gross, 
 featureless barrack. It has on one corner, it is true, a 
 picture of the Virgin and a lamp, but below the painting 
 is a coarsely lettered board announcing cabs for hire, 
 while the slip of a lane at the side has the savage name 
 of Wolf Alley. 
 
 In this forbidding house, at the corner of Wolf Alley, 
 Robert Browning and his wife once lived. The fact is 
 
 III
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'* 
 
 commemorated by a marble tablet on the wall, between 
 the picture of the Virgin and the cab proprietor's board. 
 The tablet was erected by the Municipality of Rome on 
 the centenary of the poet's birth, May 7th, 1912, while 
 beneath it — as can be seen in the photograph (Plate 3) — 
 some kindly soul has hung a handsome wreath of ever- 
 greens. The house is old, as is evident from its well- 
 weathered doorway in the Via Bocca di Leone. Above 
 this entry is a venerable stone shield with the inscrip- 
 tion DOMus FRANcisi BARAzzi. LIBERA. Possibly Pompilia 
 puzzled over this in her many walks down the street on 
 the way to the Corso. The home of Francis Barazzi 
 has fallen upon humbler days, for on the ground floor 
 an upholsterer struggles with the cab proprietor for an 
 existence. 
 
 The Brownings first occupied this house in the 
 winter of 1854. Their rooms were on the third floor, 
 and, as Mrs. Browning writes, were "turned to the 
 sun."* They were, therefore, on that corner of the 
 house which is shown in the photograph, the view 
 having been taken in the winter. Apparently the last 
 occasion on which the Brownings resided in Rome was 
 in the winter of 1859, when a letter of Mrs. Browning 
 shows that, for at least some part of their visit, they had 
 their quarters in the same house in the Via Bocca di 
 Leone. t The old Yellow Book came into Browning's 
 hands in June, 1860, and apparently he was never again 
 in Rome after that date. He, therefore, had no oppor- 
 tunity of seeking out the various spots connected with 
 
 * "Life of Robert Browning." By Mrs. Sutherland Orr, London, 1891, 
 p. 197. 
 
 t *' Life of Robert Browning." By W. Hall Griffin, London, 1910, p. 214. 
 
 112
 
 lirT' ' 
 
 u 
 
 in 
 O 
 
 (J 
 
 < 
 
 W 
 
 D 
 O 
 
 Q 
 O 

 
 The Street of the Lion's Mouth 
 
 the story he was destined to make famous. It is curious 
 that he should have chosen his home in that quarter 
 of the city around which the drama centred, for No. 43 
 Via Bocca di Leone was only but a few steps from 
 the house where the crafty Violante lived and where 
 Pompilia died. 
 
 "3
 
 5. THE URSULINE CONVENT 
 
 THERE is in the Via Vittoria a large motherly- 
 building of such ample proportions that it actually 
 overpowers the tiny street, and seems prepared to 
 gather it, together with all its houses, shops and people, 
 under the shadow of its wings (Plate 1). This is the 
 Accademia di S. Cecilia, once a famous Ursuline convent. 
 It is a somewhat ostentatious house, with a doorway 
 worthy of a church and with heavily barred windows on 
 the ground floor. It has been in part modernised of 
 late, but with seemingly so little disturbance that the 
 Comparini, if they could once more walk the streets 
 of Rome, would recognise it as the Ursuline convent of 
 their day. When it ceased to be an Ursuline convent 
 I cannot ascertain. It has nothing to do with the 
 Franceschini tragedy, but there is a story connected 
 with the house which bears so strange a resemblance 
 to Pompilia's adventure that it is worth the telling. 
 
 The story of the convent concerns a young girl, 
 not yet twenty, who was married in 1772 to a man of 
 fifty-two, whom she saw for the first time on the day 
 that she married him. The wedding, which took place 
 in the north of Italy, had, like Pompilia's marriage, 
 been " arranged." The bride and bridegroom resided 
 for a time in Rome. They then moved northwards, 
 not to Arezzo but to Florence, where they were living 
 
 in 1781. The husband, although his name was not 
 
 114
 
 < 
 
 O 
 
 H 
 
 O 
 
 u 
 

 
 The Ursullne Convent 
 
 Guido, was a degraded brute, who treated his j^oung 
 wife with such cruelty that her health was undermined 
 and her life put in danger. He is described as a gaunt 
 man, with a bent back, a purple face, flabby cheeks 
 and watery eyes. He was gloomy, maudlin, foul- 
 mouthed and generally loathsome, for he was a con- 
 firmed drunkard. The wife, on the other hand, is said 
 to have been pretty and dainty, with golden hair and 
 dark blue eyes. She was " a childish woman of the 
 world, a bright, light handful of thistle-bloom" who 
 fascinated everyone. Not the least interesting thing 
 about her was the fact that she signed her name 
 " Louise R," which meant Louise, Queen of Great 
 Britain, France and Ireland. Her husband was no other 
 than Charles Edward Stuart, the "Young Pretender," 
 the "Bonnie Prince Charlie" of a hundred wild adven- 
 tures, and the adored of the gallant Flora Macdonald. 
 He stjded himself Charles IIL of England, while 
 competent writers of the time styled him " a brutal 
 sot." His wife appeared, on the other hand, to be 
 content with the title of Countess of Albany. 
 
 Louise, finding her days intolerable and her life in 
 jeopardy, resolved to flee away to Rome. She was helped 
 in her flight, not by a young priest, but by a young 
 poet. His name was Vittorio Alfieri, aged twenty-eight, 
 "an unorganised mass of passions" and the author, in 
 due course, of twenty-one tragedies and six comedies. 
 Louise and her poet did not fly to Rome alone. She was 
 accompanied in this passage by a lady of her household 
 and two maids, while the writer of tragedies and a 
 friend, armed and dressed as servants, accompanied the 
 carriage a great part of the way. This was in January, 
 
 "5
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 1781.* From a study of the roads at this period, it 
 seems probable that they came by Arezzo and Assisi, and, 
 indeed, followed the same highway as that traversed by 
 Pompilia and Caponsacchi. Her husband might have 
 pursued and caught her before she reached the gates 
 of Rome, but he was too constantly drunk for so stren- 
 uous a chase. If the Countess of Albany stayed to 
 change horses at Castelnuovo — as she must have done if 
 she came by the Flaminian Road — she might have 
 listened to some faint, half legendary account of the 
 flight of the other countess and of how her husband had 
 ridden up to the inn at the break of dawn, and of how 
 she and her companion were led away to the prison in 
 the little town near by. It was curious that both the 
 Countess Louise and the Countess Pompilia should have 
 had the Via Vittoria as their haven of refuge in Rome. 
 
 Charles Edward Stuart, unlike Guido, did not per- 
 sonally undertake any wholesale slaughter in connection 
 with his wife's elopement, but he made it known that 
 he was prepared to give 1,000 sequins (nearly ;/^500) to 
 anyone who would murder Alfieri. 
 
 In the spring of 1781 Alfieri followed his lady to 
 Rome, and went at once to the Ursuline convent in 
 the Via Vittoria. He was of course not admitted, but 
 he saw the countess at the window, and, no doubt 
 to the extreme horror of the nuns, spoke to her 
 through the heavy iron grille which makes those win- 
 dows so suggestive of a prison. He was a neurotic 
 and hysterical man, a very self-conscious poseur, who 
 
 * " The Countess of Albany." By Vernon Lee. London, 1884. This book 
 gives a brilliant and vivid account of the adventures of Louise, vs^ho was, how- 
 ever, more generally known as the Countess of Albany. 
 
 116
 
 The Ursuline Convent 
 
 expressed his emotions with inane exaggeration and 
 intenseness. It jmay be assumed that his visit to the 
 convent caused a gigghng crowd to collect in the Via 
 Vittoria. Of the painful interview, he writes as follows : 
 " I saw her, but (O God! my heart seems to break at 
 the mere recollection) I saw her a prisoner behind a 
 grating, less tormented than in Florence, but yet not 
 less unhappy." 
 
 There is every reason to suppose that the grille with 
 which each ground floor window is still barred belongs to 
 a time before 1781, while it remains for the imagination 
 of the passer-by to select the particular trellis of iron to 
 which the blubbering Alfieri clung in such despair. 
 
 117
 
 6. SAN LORENZO IN LUCINA 
 
 IN a quiet, insignificant piazza, leading out of the 
 Corso — the great thoroughfare of Rome — is the 
 Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina, where PompiHa 
 was baptised, where she was married, and where her body 
 lay after her death. Here, too, she was buried. San 
 Lorenzo is the church of an important parish within 
 whose confines lie the Via Vittoria and much of the quar- 
 ter about the Piazza di Spagna. The piazza in Lucina is 
 small, oddly shaped and very still. It is a favourite place 
 for the lounger, since it forms a placid backwater to 
 the rushing stream of the Corso, which eddies noisily 
 by this diffident retreat. The houses are of that un- 
 obtrusive type which attract no attention and leave on 
 the mind only a general impression of dwellings. 
 
 The church occupies the south side of the piazza. 
 It is small, humble and self-effacing, being, indeed, one 
 of the most modest of the churches of Rome. It seems 
 to be attempting to withdraw from the bustling world 
 and to hide itself among the adjacent houses. In this 
 attempt it has succeeded, for only one wall of the 
 building is visible. From somewhere among the houses 
 around rises a haughty campanile, with four pillared 
 storeys, built of faded brick and very ancient looking, for 
 it belongs to the thirteenth century. It appears to be 
 anxious to disclaim any connection with the unpretend- 
 ing church. 
 
 ii8
 
 48. — A STREET IN CORTONA.
 
 San Lorenzo in Lucina 
 
 That portion of San Lorenzo which is visible would 
 — if the buildings were correctly oriented — correspond 
 to the west end of an English church. This facade is 
 very plain, being covered with a dingy yellow plaster, 
 and suggests an impoverished meeting-house rather than 
 a church which was founded in the sixth century and 
 was rebuilt in the present form in 1606 (Plate 5). 
 
 In the entrance is a porch or loggia, dark and vault- 
 like, and always full of shadow. It is separated from 
 the sunlit pavement by four simple pillars of granite. 
 The spaces between the columns are occupied by an 
 iron grille, in the centre of which is a plain iron gate. 
 The entry to the guard-room of a barrack could not be 
 more severe. The loggia is cool, and, so long as the 
 gate is open, people sleep there on warm mornings. 
 There are some very ancient tablets on the walls, with 
 such dates as Anno Dni MCXII. and MCXXX., while 
 a modern inscription shows to what height the water 
 reached in the portico during the flood of December, 
 28th, 1870. The floor is paved with tombstones from 
 wall to wall, for the porch is a place of sleep for both 
 the living and the dead. Some of those who lie here 
 belong to the Rome of centuries ago, since one slab, 
 on which is carved a coat of arms, bears the date of 
 the year 1462. 
 
 On this stone pavement, on either side of the wooden 
 
 door of the church itself, is a marble lion. The lions 
 
 are about two feet high, are very old and very dirty, 
 
 except where their heads have been pawed smooth by 
 
 passing children. They appear to be emerging from 
 
 the wall, since only the heads and the shoulders of the 
 
 beasts are in evidence. Their venerable aspect is due 
 
 119
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 to the fact that they have been crouching on this pave- 
 ment for some seven hundred years. They have watched 
 a great multitude of people enter this church, from the 
 thirteenth century gallant with cloak and dagger, to the 
 twentieth century tourist with guide book and camera. 
 
 The lion to the right of the door has a singularly 
 benevolent and even fatuous expression, while between 
 his feet is a manikin, clad only in a loin cloth, who is 
 affectionately stroking the amiable creature's mane (Plate 
 6). The lion to the left, on the contrary, is snarling, 
 and has an aspect of extreme ferocity. Between his 
 forepaws is an animal, apparently a dog, but obscure as 
 to its exact species by the accident of being headless. 
 
 Lions of this kind are not uncommonly found sitting 
 at the doors of ancient churches. A pair, for example, 
 guard the entrance to the duomo at Civita Castellana, 
 while two like them crouch before the beautiful door 
 of San Feliziano at Foligno. They are intended to 
 symbolise the kindly protection that the Church affords 
 to the believer, on the one hand, and the ferocity with 
 which it deals with the dog-like heretic, on the other. 
 
 In the " Ring and the Book " Pompilia speaks about 
 one of these lions in her musings over the Church of 
 San Lorenzo : 
 
 "I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high 
 As the bed here, what the marble Hon meant, 
 With half his body rushing from the wall, 
 Eating the figure of a prostrate man — 
 To the right, it is, of entry by the door." 
 
 It may be gathered from this account that Browning 
 never saw these lions, or that he made confusion between 
 the two. The fact that he knew little or nothing of 
 
 1 20
 
 t/i 
 
 < 
 
 > 
 
 O 
 
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 < 
 
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 San Lorenzo in Lucina 
 
 the Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina may be inferred 
 from the following letter written by him to Frederic 
 Leighton : 
 
 "Oct. 17, 1864. A favour, if you have time for it. Go into 
 the Church St Lorenzo in Lucina in the Corso — and look atten- 
 tively at it, so as to describe it to me on your return. The general 
 arrangement of the building, if with a nave — pillars or not — the 
 number of altars, and any peculiarity that may be — over the High 
 Altar is a famous Crucifixion by Guido. It will be of great use to 
 me. I don't care about, the outside^ * 
 
 Leighton's description, when it came to be presented, 
 evidently misled the poet on the matter of the lion. 
 The great artist, moreover, must have paid little heed 
 to "the general arrangement of the building," since he 
 is probably answerable for Browning's reference to the 
 aisle of the church, whereas the building has no aisle. 
 
 The interior of San Lorenzo is very agreeable to 
 contemplate, owing to the deUcacy of the colouring of 
 the walls. The plan of the church is severely simple — 
 a nave with, on either side, some little chapels, each 
 lit through a dome in the roof. At noon, even on a 
 winter's day, the sun slants into some of these tiny 
 oratories, touching here the marble wall, here the paved 
 floor and here the altar, and making each one of them 
 brilliant and gorgeous, while the rest of the church 
 remains in reverent shadow. The coffered ceiling of 
 the nave is so beautifully decorated in gold and red 
 and blue that it looks like a page from a missal, es- 
 pecially as, in the centre of the ceiling, is a picture of 
 Christ. 
 
 The floor of the church is paved with black and 
 
 * "Life of Robert Browning." By Mrs. Sutherland Orr. London, 1891, 
 p. 284. 
 
 121
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 white marble, laid in pronounced pattern. The walls 
 owe their charm of colour to the marbles of manifold 
 tints with which they are covered, and to the delicately 
 painted panels. The whole produces a blithe atmo- 
 sphere of gre}'', of pale blue and of warm yellow. The 
 clerestory windows, by which the interior is lit, are 
 draped with crimson curtains. Two steps lead up to 
 the altar, in front of which is a balustrade of variegated 
 marble. Here stood Guido and Pompilia on the fateful 
 6th of September, 1693 ; and here, too, lay the dead 
 bodies of the old Comparini and of the little countess. 
 Behind the handsome altar are four great pillars of dark 
 grey marble, having in the centre the famous Crucifixion 
 painted by Guido Reni. 
 
 One may well imagine, with the writer of " The 
 Ring and the Book," that Pompilia had a great affection 
 for this church. It is just such a church as would 
 delight a child, being very bright and cheerful, unde- 
 pressed by heavy, funereal monuments and adorned with 
 wonderful gilt candlesticks and altar pictures. More- 
 over, there was the lion's head to pat whenever the 
 church door was passed. 
 
 Under the gallery at the west end of San Lorenzo 
 is a gilded frame, containing the " Pubblicazioni dei 
 Matrimoni," with the names of the parties, their fathers 
 and mothers, their places of origin and the dates on 
 which the banns were announced. The frame is new, 
 but it must have been somewhere on this old wall that 
 the declaration of the marriage between Guido Fran- 
 ceschini of Arezzo and Pompilia Comparini of Rome, 
 with all the necessary particulars, was made public. 
 
 Although the Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina 
 
 122
 
 San Lorenzo in Lucina 
 
 contains little to attract the curious, yet it is mentioned 
 very often in the narratives of early travellers. Father 
 Montfaucon, who visited Rome in 1698 (the year of 
 Pompilia's death and Guido's execution), speaks of the 
 church, but not in an illuminating manner. He says 
 that the part of Rome in which the church was situate 
 "abounds everywhere with stately houses of princes 
 and noblemen."* 
 
 The genial M. de Brosses, who was lodging in the 
 Piazza di Spagna in 1739, discovered that San Lorenzo 
 was his parish church, and very properly considered 
 that he should attend a service there. He thus describes 
 his visit: "I have not been here (i.e. in the church) 
 half a minute before I have had two handkerchiefs and 
 my snufT-box stolen." | 
 
 I was anxious to see the register of San Lorenzo 
 in Lucina, but found that all but the records of recent 
 years had been removed to that vast Palazzo del 
 Laterano which is attached to the still vaster Basilica of 
 San Giovanni in Laterano. The Record Room of the 
 Archivio Generale del Vicariato is an old and very 
 picturesque apartment, which, like everything else con- 
 nected with the Lateran, is of great size. The walls, 
 from the brick floor to the beautifully painted cove 
 roof, are lined with the church registers of Rome, and 
 a remarkable assemblage of ancient volumes they pre- 
 sent, being, indeed, a vast library of " old yellow books." 
 The archivist who has charge of this wondrous muni- 
 ment room is a learned and most courteous priest, to 
 
 * " The Travels of the Learned Father Montfaucon from Paris through 
 Italy," London, 1712. 
 
 t "Letters of Dc Brosses." By Lord Ronald Gower. London, 1897, p. 158. 
 
 123
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 whom I am under obligations. The ancient records of 
 the Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina are in three 
 separate volumes, one dealing with baptisms, one with 
 marriages and the third with deaths. The books are 
 large and heavy volumes, about eighteen inches long 
 by fifteen inches wide, covered with lemon-yellow 
 parchment and fastened by four cords of cotton. They 
 are unsoiled, and their perfect state of preservation is 
 astonishing. 
 
 The paper of these books is grey and coarse. The 
 writing is in the centre of the page, a margin being 
 left on either side which is sometimes utilised for 
 addenda to the entry. For example, in the record of 
 Pompilia's baptism the names given her are entered in 
 the margin as if they had not been supplied when the 
 account of her baptism was written out. The ink in 
 the three books is of a rich, brown colour, without a 
 shadow of fading. The writing in the baptismal 
 register is heavy, large, straggling and very difficult to 
 read. One can imagine the priest who made the 
 entries to have been a fat, careless, and untidy man, 
 who was glad to get his clerical work over and take 
 his ease. The writing in the registers of marriages 
 and deaths is by one hand, but that not the hand of 
 the loose-limbed curate. It is, on the contrary, a small, 
 precise, scholarly script, very neat and plain to read. It 
 suggests the handiwork of a thin, dapper, little man, 
 who, if not a genius, was at least painstaking. 
 
 It is needless to say that no signatures are attached 
 
 to any of these entries in the church registers. Certified 
 
 copies of the various entries just named are given at 
 
 the end of this volume. 
 
 124
 
 X 
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 71 
 
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 a:
 
 San Lorenzo in Luclna 
 
 Although a wide search has been made, no record 
 of the baptism of Pompilia's boy, Gaetano, can be 
 discovered. As the certificate at the end of this volume 
 shows, a record of such baptism is not to be found in 
 the registers of the Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina, 
 nor in those of the churches of the six adjoining 
 parishes. It was suggested that, in the circumstances 
 under which the child was born, it was possible that 
 the baptism had been carried out at St. Peter's, but the 
 registers of that church show no entry of the kind. 
 
 125
 
 7. LE SC ALETTE 
 
 AFTER the affair at Castelnuovo, Pompilia and 
 Caponsacchi were sent to Rome and lodged in 
 the New Prisons. They stood their trial before 
 the Criminal Court, and, after long wrangling among 
 the lawyers, Pompilia was committed to a convent known 
 to the people of Rome as " Le Scalette." Here she re- 
 mained until October 12th, when she was allowed to return 
 to the home of her foster parents in the Via Vittoria. Her 
 stay in the convent does not appear to have been more 
 than a month. The convent was an institution for 
 women who had lived, and had repented of, an evil 
 life. It is said to have been founded in 1615, when its 
 full title was II Conservatorio di S. Croce della Penitenza. 
 It is situated across the river in the Via della Lungara, 
 a street well known to diligent tourists, for it contains 
 the Palazzo Corsini, which is one of the unavoidable 
 sights of Rome. The popular name of " Le Scalette" 
 or "The Little Stairways" is derived from the fact that 
 in front of the building is a long and unusual plat- 
 form, approached by a small stair at either end. On 
 the platform are two doors, one leading into the chapel 
 and the other to the Penitentiary. The essential part 
 of the building, the fagade that looks upon the street, 
 the chapel itself, the platform and the little stairs are 
 all unchanged, and, as Pompilia saw them long ago, so 
 
 the traveller sees them now (Plate 8). 
 
 126
 
 w 
 
 C/3 
 
 < 
 
 
 a 
 
 W 
 
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 < 
 
 o 
 
 w S 
 
 (/I c 
 
 
 bjo 
 
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 o 
 in
 
 Le Scalette 
 
 The institution was enlarged in 1854, but the alter- 
 ation onl}^ affected the hinder part of the building, as 
 the tablet in the wall that abuts on the Via Penitenza 
 bears witness, and as a sketch of the convent in Falda's 
 map (Plate 105) will show. The name of the place has 
 changed to the gentler title of the Convent 'of the 
 Good Shepherd, and thus it is that it now appears upon 
 the maps of Rome as " Buon Pastore " (see Plate 16). 
 
 The convent is a very old, dismal, prison-like build- 
 ing, in a frowzy quarter and a none too cheerful street. 
 It seems to have been forgotten by the world and from 
 callous neglect to have shrivelled into a state of hebe- 
 tude and decay. It is woefully shabby, while the general 
 colour of its walls is the sickly greyish-yellow of a faded 
 leaf. The long platform in front of the building is of 
 brick, which bricks are slowly crumbling into the road. 
 The little stone stairs of seven steps, on one side, and 
 ten on the other, are so worn and cracked and chipped 
 by the lapse of years that they are little more than 
 ragged ledges, although they are softened by the grass 
 which grows in every gap and fissure. No one could 
 claim that these stairways are less than two hundred 
 years old, or doubt that they are the very steps trodden 
 by the faltering feet of Pompilia when she was brought 
 here for shelter from the great jail across the stream. 
 
 The front of the chapel is nearly as shabby as the 
 
 steps. Weeds are growing from the roof and from every 
 
 hospitable ledge in the stonework. There is, indeed, 
 
 one cheerful weed, high up on the wall, which was 
 
 ablaze with yellow flowers early in May. The ancient 
 
 door of the chapel has apparently not been opened for 
 
 a lifetime, if one may judge from the growth of grass 
 
 127
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 which lines the rift between the wooden sill and the 
 stone step. Above the other door on the platform a 
 great cross is fastened to the wall over the figure 
 of the Good Shepherd. This door leads into a cavern- 
 ous kind of guard-room, a grim, hard, uncharitable 
 place which must have chilled Pompilia's heart as she 
 stepped into its inhospitable gloom. It was a relief to 
 see two placid and kindly-looking nuns come out of 
 this apparently deserted place. All the convent windows 
 are so strongly barred that they convey the impression 
 of belonging to a prison, while at the back of the 
 building is a garden shut in by a terrifying wall. 
 
 One morning in May, on walking to the Lungara, 
 to ponder once again over the Scalette, I found, sitting 
 on the steps of the chapel, one of the most fearful- 
 looking human beings I have ever seen. He was a 
 tramp, very old and wrinkled, unclean and disgustful. 
 He was dressed darkly, in fantastic and unnatural rags 
 that seemed to be parts of mediaeval garments, and was 
 crowned with a ridiculous hat more like a Quaker 
 woman's bonnet (Plate 9). 
 
 It was not the dirt, not the tatters, nor the poverty 
 of the man that made him horrible, but rather it was 
 his attitude of the castaway, of the solitary, shipwrecked 
 man, who had been left by the ebbing tide of the 
 world upon these desert steps, a mere bit of sodden 
 wreckage, and who was, nevertheless, garbed in such 
 a motley as to be incongruously grotesque. 
 
 As he sat on the stone, a deformed, distorted bundle, 
 tricked out as a mummer, he seemed something lower 
 than a man. The bones of his shoulders and the bones 
 of his bent knees protruded, with hard anatomical detail, 
 
 128
 
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 Le Scalette 
 
 under the greasy polished cloth that covered them, and 
 when he moved his head the profane absurdity of his 
 hat was dreadful. 
 
 He could not have come to a more appropriate place 
 in search of the sun ; for he seemed to personify the 
 lamentable hospitality of the building that sheltered him, 
 as well as the world's disdain, the gibe of the Pharisee 
 and the cynical pitilessness of time. 
 
 Impressions are often inappropriate and lacking in 
 proportion, but while searching among the relics of the 
 Yellow Book I experienced few impressions so haunting 
 as that left by this forlorn, chimerical creature in human 
 shape, who was leaning against the rotting door of the 
 House of the Good Shepherd. 
 
 I2g
 
 8. THE NEW PRISONS 
 
 THE great prisons of Rome at the time of the 
 Franceschini tragedy were the Carceri Nuove, or 
 New Prisons, in the Via GiuHa. They replaced 
 the prisons of the Torre di Nono, which stood on the 
 bank of the river near the Ponte S. Angelo. The Carceri 
 Nuove were founded by Pope Innocent X. and were 
 erected in the year 1655 (see Plates 13 and 14). 
 
 To these new prisons Pompilia and Caponsacchi were 
 brought, after their arrest at Castelnuovo, and here they 
 were lodged during the summer of 1697, being prisoners 
 in "this great jail for nearly five months. To the Carceri 
 Nuove also, on the 3rd of January, 1698, came Guido 
 and his four associates, strapped to their horses and 
 followed by a hooting mob. In this prison they lay 
 until they were led out, one afternoon in February, to 
 the place of execution in the Piazza del Popolo. To 
 Innocent the Tenth's new building in the Via Giulia, 
 therefore, great interest attaches. 
 
 Something, however, may be said about the Via 
 Giulia itself, for it is, and ever has been, one of the pic- 
 turesque streets in Rome. For a thoroughfare in the 
 old part of the city it is comparatively wide ; it is, more- 
 over, of considerable length. It runs by the bank of the 
 Tiber, and has been evidently a pompous, arrogant, purse- 
 proud street, as well as the highway of an exceedingly 
 
 fashionable quarter. It is lined with mansions that would 
 
 130
 
 53. — PASSIGNANO, ON LAKE TRASIMENE. 
 
 *!/ '.' . h't 
 
 r^ 
 
 ^■■:-'i 
 
 ^ i*>v»itBr»!«n^»v >ig5irtiWi»>*4 
 
 54.— TUOKO, FROM THE HIGH ROAD.
 
 The New Prisons 
 
 be rightly described as noble, and with town houses of 
 almost supercilious respectability. The strongly barred 
 lower windows suggest costly possessions and carefully 
 guarded wealth. The fine stone balconies will have 
 been radiant on many a gala day with brightly dressed 
 women, while the great pillared doorways must have at 
 one time echoed with the wheels of painted coaches 
 and the footsteps of lackeys in brave liveries of scarlet 
 and gold (Plate 10). 
 
 At the end of the street is the Palazzo Farnese 
 (Plate 12), which Hare affirms is "the most majestic and 
 magnificent of all the Palaces of Rome" ; and near it, in 
 the Via Giulia, is the Falconieri Palace, which, if not 
 actually magnificent, is certainly as beautiful, in its river 
 front, as any like building in the city. The Palazzo 
 Sacchetti stands also in the street, while, palatial in 
 its wa}^ the old, weary-looking Collegio Ghislieri 
 adds the dignity of learning and soberness to this 
 flamboyant highway. 
 
 Very evident is it that the Via Giulia is now neither 
 rich nor fashionable. It is, in fact, rather a dirty street, 
 where the wind seems to eddy the waste paper of the 
 district, and where bare-headed women are ever to be 
 seen in various attitudes of gossiping. High up on the 
 wall of a stately house is a coat of arms carved in stone, 
 the arms of one of the noble families of Rome ; but the 
 shield is nearly hidden by some sheets and towels which 
 are hanging out to dry from the window above. It 
 would look strange to see washing dangling from every 
 window in Piccadilly, but the sight is quite as incon- 
 gruous in this street of fine houses. Indeed, on a 
 Monday, when the washing is apparently "done," the
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book 
 
 )) 
 
 whole of the spare underclothing of the inhabitants of 
 the Via Giulia must be displayed on the house fronts. 
 In the ground floor of a right lordly mansion is a shop 
 for the sale of hams, bags of lard, salt fish and lumps 
 of white cheese that look like fragments of wet con- 
 crete. In a hall, where a gorgeous porter once strutted 
 with his stafT, are two shabby men making rush-bottomed 
 chairs. Among the delicate carving over what was at one 
 time a boudoir window are entangled the paper streamers 
 of last year's carnival, while in the window itself a petti- 
 coat hangs from one nail and a birdcage from another. 
 From a courtyard, out of which once poured the sound 
 of water dripping in a fountain, and the scent of roses, 
 there now floats that sickly, dreadful smell — common in 
 poor quarters in Italy — which is faint and acrid, and com- 
 pounded, it would seem, of an anaesthetic, of mouldy 
 gases of decomposition, together with a revolting sug- 
 gestion of cooking fat and sour wine. 
 
 The Via Giulia also is a street of prominent piety, 
 for there are either in it, or abutting upon it, no fewer than 
 ten churches. Most of these are so wan and deserted 
 as practically to efface themselves, but two demand some 
 consideration. Guido and the four hired assassins, who 
 were awaiting death with him in the new jail, were all 
 natives of Tuscany, and in view of this it is curious that 
 the church at the north end of the Via Giulia should 
 be San Giovanni dei Fiorentini, the same being the 
 national church of the Tuscans, built somewhere about 
 1520 at the expense of the city of Florence. It is 
 curious also that the church at the south end of the Via 
 Giulia should be Santa Maria della Morte, the Church of 
 Our Lady of Death (Plate 11). It is a little round church. 
 
 132
 
 The New Prisons 
 
 very curious and picturesque. On each side of the central 
 door, which opens on tlie street, are stone pilasters, the 
 capitals of which are made in the form of toothless human 
 skulls, crowned with wreaths. A like skull surmounts 
 the window over the door. On the wall is a white 
 marble tablet on which is shown a man lying dead on 
 the open ground, while a skeleton with ghastly wings, 
 made up of straggling, damp-looking feathers, contem- 
 plates him with an aspect of weary disapproval. This 
 ancient church is in the charge of a pious brotherhood — 
 the Fratelloni della Buona Morte — who devote them- 
 selves to the burial of the neglected dead. More than 
 probable is it that these Brethren of Kindly Death under- 
 took the burial of Guido and his four associates. If this 
 be so, then the church at the north end of the street 
 would have cared for these Tuscans when living, and 
 the church at the south end of the street when dead. Both 
 of these churches are shown in Vasi's print, reproduced 
 in Plate 12. 
 
 The Carceri Nuove stand in about the middle of 
 the Via Giulia, between Prison Alley and the Alley of the 
 Evil Way, or Vicolo del Malpasso. They are repre- 
 sented by two heavy square buildings, connected by 
 a transverse block of less dimensions. One of the main 
 prisons has its front in the Via Giulia, while the other 
 overlooks the river, near to the bank of which it stands. 
 This immense, crushing mass of grey stone, drab plaster 
 and mellow brick is four storeys in height, and " the 
 whole," as John Evelyn would say, " much obliged to 
 Pope Innocent X." From the drawing of the prison 
 given in Antonio Tempesta's map of 1664, and also 
 in Falda's plan of 1676 (reproduced in Plate 105), 
 
 133
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 the structure would appear to have undergone no sub- 
 stantial alteration from that date until now, except 
 perhaps in the matter of the roof, which on the river 
 front is flat, whereas in the map it is sloping. The 
 distant view of the Carceri Nuove, as shown in Vasi's 
 print (Plate 12), is precisely the same as it appears at 
 the present day. The windows of the prison are barred 
 with iron like a trap, and, in common with all other 
 jails, the general aspect of the place is most forbidding. 
 
 The entrance to the prison is in the Via Giulia. It 
 is of ashen stone, solid and uncompromising, and as 
 plain as the portal of an Etruscan tomb. An entry more 
 severe, more melancholy, more inhospitable, could not 
 be conceived. Through this very portal have passed 
 Pompilia and Caponsacchi, Guido and the four clowns 
 who helped him in his murdering. Pompilia, no doubt, 
 was the first of the seven to enter this dismal doorway, 
 and within ten months of that occasion all of the seven 
 were dead save one — the young priest. Over the door 
 is this inscription: — "Justitise et Clementiae securiori ac 
 mitiori reorum custodiae. Novum Carcerem. Innocen- 
 tius Pont. Max. Posuit. Anno Domini M.D.C.L.V." 
 (Plate 13). 
 
 The building ceased to be used as a jail in 1897. 
 It is now a depot or school of instruction for prison 
 warders. 
 
 The interior of the prison is more forbidding even 
 than the outside. That part of the building which 
 stands in the Via Giulia is given up to the depot and 
 has, in unimportant details, been modified to meet the 
 needs of its new service ; but the greater part of the jail, 
 including all that portion which is towards the river, 
 
 134
 
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 The New Prisons 
 
 is unoccupied, and is in precisely the same condition 
 as it was when the last prisoner was marched out of 
 the cells. 
 
 There is a certain melancholy about an empty house 
 which has been long occupied by men and women, 
 but this deserted jail struck me as one of the most 
 dismal human habitations that I had ever visited. 
 
 Prison buildings are not subject to much change, 
 and this structure is built so solidly and of such deter- 
 mined materials as to seem to be incapable of any 
 change short of that effected by an earthquake. The 
 original stone stairs still stand, although they are much 
 worn, and in places extensively repaired. The long 
 stone corridors are vaulted and unusually lofty. The end 
 of each corridor is closed by a merciless iron gate and 
 grille. With few exceptions, the prisoners were herded 
 together in large, airy cells, capable of taking from twelve 
 to fourteen beds. These cells have a cove roof or a 
 vaulted ceiling, in each angle of which is a large star. 
 This curious and inspiring ornament is the only one 
 the designer of the jail allowed himself to use. The 
 windows are blocked with heavy bars, while the opening 
 into the cell and the opening through the outer wall 
 of the jail being on different levels, it is impossible 
 for a prisoner to see anything from his room but a 
 patch of sky. Indeed, the lower edge of the outside 
 window is on a level with the upper edge of the 
 opening into the prison ward. 
 
 The locks and bolts are curious and ancient, but 
 the prisoners' quarters are, as regards light, ventilation 
 and cubic space, as good as those of the most modern 
 jail. 
 
 135
 
 The Country of "The Rmg and the Book 
 
 )) 
 
 The cells for prisoners condemned to death are 
 on the roof of the river-side block of the prison. 
 They consist of a single row of well-designed cells 
 in the central line of the building, with a corridor on 
 either side of them. The door of a cell opens into 
 one corridor, while on the opposite side is a wicket 
 opening into the other. The cells are ranged alter- 
 nately on the following plan : — If cell No. 1 has its 
 door in the right-hand corridor, cell No. 2 will have 
 its entrance in the passage on the left. Thus, although 
 the rooms are in a single line, the doors of one half 
 of them belong to one passage, and the doors of the 
 remaining half to the other. This lessens the proba- 
 bility of prisoners meeting, and at the same time 
 allows of a more complete surveillance of the cell 
 if a warder be on duty in each passage. 
 
 On the side of each of the corridors is a walled-in 
 exercise yard, open to the air, and approached from 
 the corridor by two doors. The cells have no win- 
 dows, being lit only from the roof. Thus it is that 
 an occupant of one of these rooms is not only ab- 
 solutely isolated, but can see nothing of the outer 
 world but a limited square of sky. 
 
 In Plate 15 the structure to be seen on the roof 
 is composed of this row of cells with the connected 
 yards, the long wall (against the sky line) that faces 
 the spectator being the boundary of one of the exer- 
 cise courts. The two windows at the end, above the 
 cornice, light the two corridors described, while the 
 raised structure between them is the terminal part of 
 the single line of cells. The two side windows open 
 into a latrine. 
 
 136
 
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 The New Prisons 
 
 Browning, with great dramatic effect, places Guide's 
 cell in the basement of the building, and describes 
 the count as sitting 
 
 " On a stone bench in a close fetid cell, 
 Where the hot vapour of an agony. 
 Struck into drops on the cold wall, runs down 
 Horrible worms made out of sweat and tears." 
 
 I was assured that there are no underground cells 
 in the prison, and, furthermore, in the Old Yellow 
 Book it says: "The condemned were made to go 
 downstairs, and were placed upon separate carts to be 
 drawn to the place of execution." It is evident, there- 
 fore, that the condemned cells were in the upper 
 storeys of the jail. 
 
 There is no room in the present jail that has the 
 reputation, however doubtful, of having been a torture 
 chamber ; yet in this prison Guido and his accomplices 
 were assuredly subject to the torture, while Silvagni, 
 in the w^ork already quoted, writes: "There was a 
 torture chamber in the Carceri Nuove, which certainly 
 remained intact up to 1809, when my uncle visited it 
 in company with Salicetto, the Emperor's Minister." 
 
 137
 
 9. THE ROUTE TO THE PLACE OF EXECUTION 
 
 ON Saturday, February 22nd, 1698, Count Guide 
 Franceschini and his four associates in villainy 
 were executed in the Piazza del Popolo, as has 
 already been recounted (p. 88). They were brought 
 down the stairs of the Career! Nuove to the door of 
 the jail, and were then placed, uncomfortably bound, 
 in the five tumbrels that had been waiting in a line 
 in the Via Giulia. February is the month when Rome 
 is at her dreariest. The afternoon of that day may 
 have been bright and the sun Italian, but there are 
 many days in the winter when the sun is not seen, 
 when the air is still, when the grey clouds, chilled 
 and sullen, descend almost to the housetops. The 
 trees are then bare but for a few crackling and 
 mis-shapen leaves left from the autumn ; men bury 
 themselves in their cloaks, and the gossip in the cheer- 
 less streets is curt and ungenial. One may imagine 
 that it was on such an afternoon as this that the 
 procession started from the great prison. This journey 
 to death must have been as gloomy a spectacle as the 
 Eternal City could provide — the five carts, within each 
 of which sat a scared, gaping man, pinioned with ropes, 
 by the side of a priest with a crucifix, the stern company 
 of police, the horrible hooded figures of the Com- 
 passionate Brotherhood, the half-terrified crowd pouring 
 through the narrow lanes like a tide, sweeping along 
 
 138
 
 The Route to the Place of Execution 
 
 with it the bodies of dying men, while raised high above 
 all would be the great reassuring cross. 
 
 According to the Yellow Book the procession went 
 "by the most densely populated streets," and the 
 names of the streets are given. They are densely popu- 
 lated still, while in their general disposition they are, for 
 the most part, but little altered (see Plates 16 and 105). 
 
 The clumsy carts would leave the Via Giulia by the 
 Alley of the Evil Way. This is a short alley, drab 
 and vacant, which opens into the Via del Pellegrino, 
 or Road of the Pilgrim. Here the strange company 
 would turn to the right. The Via del Pellegrino is a 
 typical highway of old Rome. According to Martinelli* 
 it would appear to have been the Bond Street of the 
 period, since it was devoted at that time to jewellers' and 
 silversmiths' shops and to the sale of bonnets and hats. 
 It is now a poor street, but still very busy and singularly 
 well patronised by children, being a street of small shops 
 and brimming with life. It is no longer possible to 
 buy fine jewels in the street, but it has a high repute for 
 cabbages, the stalks of which, according to apparent 
 custom, are left behind in the roadway by the purchaser. 
 The Pilgrims' Street is, indeed, a street of food shops, 
 although among them may be a fabbrica di sedie, 
 where rush-bottomed chairs are made, or a cartoleria, 
 where one may buy post cards, ink, toys, blacking and 
 string. Prominent among the food shops is the maga- 
 sin of eggs and oil, where the eggs are in baskets and 
 the oil in flasks, which hang from the ceiling and door- 
 way like some gigantic fruit. More interesting are 
 ^^ pane e paste" shops, where bread, beans and long 
 
 * " Roma." By Signor Fioravantc Martinelli. Padua, 1650. 
 
 139
 
 The Country of *' The Ring and the Book 
 
 >j 
 
 wax candles are sold, and where are exhibited the 
 astounding forms that may be taken by ^^ pasta.' ^ With 
 macaroni in tubes and vermicelli in threads the world 
 is familiar, but not so commonplace are fragments of 
 paste in the form of wasps' nests (nidi di vespe), snails 
 (chiocciole) , bobbins (spolete), wolf's eyes {occhi di htpo), 
 celery sticks [sedani) and angels' hair in skeins {capellini 
 d'angelo a matasse). 
 
 The route now turns to the left along the Via del 
 Governo Vecchio, which street is cut across by the 
 modern Corso Vittorio Emanuele, with its tram lines, its 
 spacious pavements and its immense shops. The Street 
 of the Governor — interesting because it represents the 
 narrowest part of the route — is not greatly changed, and, 
 in old walls, old windows and stone doorways, presents 
 many relics of the street as Guido saw it. 
 
 The more ancient part of the street is habitually 
 festooned with " washing." The houses, indeed, are 
 draped with sheets, petticoats, and shirts, which form a 
 white cascade dripping from every window and on 
 occasion from the very roof. The display of white 
 affords an agreeable relief, for the street itself is dark 
 and dirty. 
 
 From Plate 17 it will be seen that the lane is so 
 narrow that it could have admitted little more than the 
 line of tumbrels, for it will be noticed that the hooded 
 wine-cart at the bend of the lane nearly fills the roadway. 
 At this particular bend in the lane is a very old house, 
 which has been practically untouched by time, and is 
 to-day as it was on that winter afternoon when the 
 procession rolled along to the gallows. It is a dignified 
 house, built partly of stone and partly of narrow Roman 
 
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 The Route to the Place of Execution 
 
 bricks. The stone windows are rounded, while the 
 doorway takes the form of a simple solemn arch. The 
 upper windows would have afforded an excellent view 
 of the procession, for the house is just at the corner 
 where the street turns towards the Pantheon. According 
 to Baedeker, the building was erected in 1500 for the 
 Papal Secretary, and would, therefore, have been nearly 
 two hundred years old at the time of the story. The 
 dwelling of the secretary to His Holiness is now a 
 tavern known as *' Al Bramante," and is as picturesque 
 a wine-shop as any in Rome (Plate 18). 
 
 The carts carrying the condemned men then passed 
 along to the end of the street, where are still to be seen 
 remains of old houses, unexpected stables and dingy 
 courts which present too detailed an insight into 
 private life. At last the Piazza Pasquino was reached. 
 This is a quaint, little triangular space containing still 
 the mutilated statue called "Pasquino," a shapeless 
 lump of stone, associated in some incongruous way 
 with the Greek hero Menelaus, on the one hand, 
 and a deformed tailor with a passion for writing 
 spiteful and offensive comments upon people, on the 
 other. In this piazza the procession halted before 
 a grey chapel called the Church of the Agonizzanti. 
 One function of this church is to administer the Last 
 Sacrament to criminals who are on their way to death. 
 Here, indeed, the Holy Ofhce was carried out for the 
 benefit of Guido and his four countrymen. Accord- 
 ing to the Yellow Book, the ceremony was so im- 
 pressive as to move many of the onlookers to tears, 
 while Guido's attitude was impressively devout. The 
 church is insignificant, and as it was restored and 
 
 141
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 decorated as lately as 1862, it has lost its legitimate 
 aspect of antiquity. Before the single door are two 
 low steps, where no doubt the officiating priest and his 
 assistants stood. Above the entry is this inscription : 
 
 ARCHISODALITII ANIMIS MORIENTIUM 
 IN EXTREMO AGONE JUVANDIS. 
 
 The church within is a cheerful little sanctuary, 
 made bright by yellow grey columns and clouded by 
 no reminiscence of its melancholy function (Plate 19). 
 
 Silvagni writes* that he remembers, in 1840, reading 
 a notice posted in the piazza, in which the faithful were 
 exhorted to gain a plenar)'- indulgence by visiting the 
 Holy Sacrament exposed in the Church of the Agoniz- 
 zanti in connection with the execution of a youth who 
 had been condemned to death for sacrilege. 
 
 The procession then crossed the south end of the 
 magnificent Piazza Navona, close to Bernini's famous 
 fountain "II Moro " (Plates 20 and 21). The figure of 
 the Moor has his back turned to the road, while around 
 him are jubilant tritons blowing water out of double 
 horns. The fountain is unchanged, the little streams 
 still splash into the pool as they did two hundred years 
 ago when the murderers passed by. Indeed, there is 
 no reason to suppose that the water has ceased to run 
 from the tritons' conch since Guido looked upon the 
 fountain for the last time. 
 
 The Piazza Navona, on the other hand, has changed, 
 and that for the better. In the time of the Franceschini 
 tragedy the square was a squalid market place, given 
 up to the bartering of old books and curiosities, to the 
 
 * hoc. c'li. 
 142
 
 The Route to the Place of Execution 
 
 sale of old Iron, and to rows of untidy booths where the 
 country people displayed their fruit. Moreover, it was 
 the privileged place for the quack, the fortune-teller 
 and the conjurer. Possibly it was not until the crowd 
 swarming about the carts broke into the square that 
 the spurious doctor, standing upon a tub, ceased to yell 
 forth the virtue of his pills for ague and the falling 
 sickness. John Evelyn was fond of the Piazza Navona. 
 Writing in this very month of February, in the year 
 1645, he says : "20th February. I went, as was my usual 
 custom, and spent an afternoon in Piazza Navona, as 
 well to see what antiquities I could purchase among the 
 people who hold market there for medals, pictures and 
 such curiosities, as to hear the mountebanks prate and 
 distribute their medicines." 
 
 The five condemned men would next be carried 
 through the Via dei Canestrari and the Piazza S. 
 Eustachio to the Pantheon, and thence to the Piazza 
 Colonna (Plate 22). We are now in modern Rome, 
 where scarcely a trace is to be found of any dwelling 
 house that could claim to belong to the end of the 
 seventeenth century. Since Guido's time this part has 
 been altered beyond recognition. One would like to 
 know where the hairdresser's shop stood, and whether 
 the hairdresser, having closed her shop out of respect 
 to her friend, peeped out through a crack in the 
 shutter to see the last of the Tuscan nobleman who 
 had spent so many hours in her establishment and had 
 lied with such facile invention. 
 
 Last of all, the miserable company would enter the 
 Corso, where every window and balcony, and every 
 parapet on the roof, would be crowded with solemn 
 
 143
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book 
 
 )> 
 
 faces. It was not long since the carnival was over, when 
 the famous street had been filled with just as dense a 
 mob. Then the place rang with laughter and snatches 
 of song, then every face was radiant with smiles, while 
 the road was packed with gaily decked carriages filled 
 with men and women in brilliant costume. Now the 
 whole long road was silent. The only sound that 
 broke the tense, unnatural quiet was the jolting of 
 the wheels on the cobble stones, the shuffling of 
 feet, the sobbing of women, the chant of the priests. 
 In place of the line of dazzling equipages were five 
 rude carts drawn by coarse horses, while in place of 
 the chatting gallants and their ladies in silks and satins, 
 as gay in colour as the bouquets they tossed to their 
 friends, were five shabby, unshaven men in the garb of 
 field labourers, whose lips muttered inaudibly, and whose 
 eyes were never lifted from the crucifix held before 
 them. 
 
 In this, the last stage of the journey. Count Guido 
 would pass the little church in which he was married, 
 would pass the street in which his brother lived, and 
 would see before him the long, narrow lane, at the end 
 of which was the closely shuttered house where he had 
 stabbed his wife and the mother of his boy to death. 
 
 I found that to walk from the Carceri Nuove to the 
 Piazza del Popolo by the route followed by the con- 
 demned men occupied some thirty-five minutes. The 
 procession left the prison at 2 o'clock in the afternoon; 
 so that, taking all things into consideration, it may be 
 assumed that the piazza was reached about 3 p.m. 
 
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 10. THE PIAZZA DEL POPOLO 
 
 FEW places in Rome are better known to the stranger 
 than the Piazza del Popolo. Few places figure 
 with more certainty in the diaries of the old-world 
 traveller, for, before the railway came, this was the first 
 part of the Eternal City that met the eye of the pilgrim, 
 since all who journeyed to Rome from the north must 
 needs enter the city through the Porta del Popolo. Many 
 who had been on the road for weeks must have halted 
 in this piazza and, looking round with an air of satis- 
 faction, must have exclaimed, in any one of the lan- 
 guages of Europe, " And this is Rome ! " 
 
 The Piazza del Popolo can now claim to be the most 
 picturesque open space in the city (Plate 23). It forms 
 an oval area, with, on either side, to the west and east, 
 rising ground, so that it has the general aspect of an 
 amphitheatre possessing a level, oval-shaped arena. The 
 high ground to the east is the beautiful Monte Pincio, 
 the " Hill of Gardens," covered with trees, with firs 
 and palms, plane trees and ilex, and intersected by 
 many winding paths making their way to the summit 
 of the liill. The clean-cut, grey obelisk in the centre of 
 the piazza has stood on its present site for over three 
 hundred years, and it was in front of this imposing 
 monolith that the scafTolds were erected. The somewhat 
 ineffectual lions at the four corners of the platform are 
 of a later date. The steps between the four fountains 
 K M5
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 are a favourite meeting place for countrymen. Here 
 they rest on entering Rome, as they have done for 
 centuries past ; and here they gather when, at the close 
 of the day, they are about to start on the return journey 
 across the Campagna. 
 
 At the south end of the piazza stand the twin 
 churches of Santa Maria dei Miracoli and Santa Maria 
 di Monte Santo. These heavy, domed buildings, erected 
 in 1664, served to separate the three streets which 
 diverge from this side of the square. The street in the 
 centre is the famous Corso, leading to the Capitol, the 
 Forum and the Colosseum. The street on the right is 
 the Via di Ripetta, which follows, for a while, the bank 
 of the Tiber. The street on the left is the Strada 
 Paolina or Via del Babuino, where, at the corner of the 
 Via Vittoria, was the home of Pompilia. There are 
 ample steps leading up to the doors of the two churches, 
 and there can be little doubt that they were crowded 
 with spectators on that afternoon in February when the 
 five men were done to death in the centre of the arena. 
 
 On the opposite side of the piazza is the mighty 
 stone gate, the famous North Gate of Rome. It is 
 a singularly massive structure, dating from 1562, in 
 which there is an intolerable deal of masonry to ex- 
 ceeding little gate (Plate 26). It must have looked still 
 more overpowering at the time of the story, for the side 
 entries were not added until 1878. The stonework is 
 of a delicate drab colour, shaded with faint tints of 
 brown and yellow. The north side of the gate is 
 lavishly decorated with marble columns, marble tablets 
 and most copious inscriptions. On either side of the 
 
 centre gateway are two immense statues of solemn men. 
 
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 The Piazza del Popolo 
 
 Each holds a book in his hand, while on the face of 
 each is an expression of such vast vacuity as can only 
 be observed in the state known as senile dementia. 
 
 From the gate starts that very ancient road, the Via 
 Flaminia, which — straight as an arrow — makes for the 
 north, by Narni and Foligno, pushing on until it meets 
 the shores of the Adriatic at the old Umbrian town of 
 Rimini, which was the frontier fortress of Italy looking 
 towards Gaul. 
 
 It was through this gate that Guido and the four 
 slunk on the eve of the murder. It was through 
 this gate that they fled to gain the road to Tuscany. 
 Under this forbidding archwa}^ passed Caponsacchi and 
 Pompilia on their way from Castelnuovo to the great 
 prison in the Via Giulia. Guido, as he stood on the 
 scaffold, would face this stolid gateway. Through the 
 arch he could see the white road leading to his home 
 in Arezzo, and, where the road ended, the green country 
 around his brother's villa by the Ponte Milvio. 
 
 By the side of the gate is the beautiful Church of 
 Santa Maria del Popolo, together with the rambling 
 picturesque monastic buildings which cluster behind it 
 (Plate 25). The church was built in 1480, and has suffered 
 not a little from the merciless hands of the " restorer." A 
 considerable flight of steps leads up to its three green 
 doors, and on this stair a huge company, packed shoulder 
 to shoulder, must have gathered on the day of the 
 execution. 
 
 It is interesting to think how many remarkable per- 
 sonages, in years gone by, have walked up the steps of 
 Saint Mary of the People. There are two among them 
 who haunt the memory by reason of their incongruity: 
 
 M7
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 a curious couple they make, a woman and a man. The 
 one, Lucrezia Borgia, considered by some to be so 
 vile as to be "outside the pale of humanity," who came 
 here, at the tender age of twenty-one, to offer thanks 
 to Almighty God for her betrothal to her third husband, 
 Alfonso d'Este. The other, Martin Luther, then a fer- 
 vent Popish priest of twenty-eight, who came hither — 
 just ten years later — to celebrate Mass in that Church to 
 the destruction of which he was destined to devote the 
 remainder of his life. It was in the Augustinian convent 
 adjoining Santa Maria del Popolo that Luther lived 
 during his sojourn in Rome. 
 
 The Piazza del Popolo at the time of the Frances- 
 chini tragedy was a rough, ill-cared-for open space, used 
 as a sort of caravanserai by those peasants, shepherds 
 and herdsmen who came into Rome from the country to 
 the north. Many a time the place must have been nearly 
 blocked with market-carts, pack mules and cattle. As 
 will be seen from the old print (Plate 24), the roads 
 were none too good, although the mass of ruins scattered 
 at the base of the obelisk have been introduced purely 
 for artistic effect. On the south side of the obelisk 
 was a plain fountain composed of three basins of di- 
 minishing size, placed one above the other. This 
 fountain is very exactly drawn in Antonio Tempesta's 
 map of 1664. It is also shown on a smaller scale in 
 Falda's plan (Plate 106). On the east side of the piazza, 
 at the foot of the Pincio, was a row of small houses 
 and barn-like structures, while the Pincio itself was 
 occupied by the monastery vineyard and gardens con- 
 nected with Santa Maria del Popolo. On the west side 
 of the square was a large walled garden and a few poor 
 
 148
 
 The Piazza del Popolo 
 
 houses, while opposite the Church of St. Mary of the 
 People stood a low rambling cottage of exceptional 
 meanness.* 
 
 The large fountains on either side of the square, 
 between which Browning assumes that the execution 
 took place, t did not exist at this period. 
 
 The piazza was emphatically a Piazza of the People. 
 Here they met together as travellers meet at an inn, here 
 they gossiped and bargained, here they caroused, and 
 on occasion slept, and here, also on occasion, they were 
 hanged by the neck. 
 
 * An excellent engraving of the Piazza del Popolo is contained in Graevio's 
 "Thesaurus Antiquitatum Romanorum," published in 1696. 
 f Book I., line 359. 
 
 149
 
 II 
 
 THE INN AT MERLUZZA 
 
 IMMEDIATELY after the murder in the Via 
 Vittoria, Guido 'and his hirehngs fled across the 
 Piazza del Popolo, and, passing through the Great 
 North Gate, made their way along the Flaminian Road 
 to the Ponte Milvio, the ancient bridge across the 
 Tiber. On the other side of the river was the vineyard 
 belonging to Guido's brother, the Abate Paolo, in the 
 villa of which the five wretched Tuscans had been 
 hiding all through Christmas. To this villa they re- 
 turned for a moment to collect such few belongings 
 as they had, and then made for the frontier by the 
 Via Cassia. They got as far as Merluzza on foot. 
 Here, utterly exhausted, they took shelter in an inn, 
 and here, at the break of dawn, they were discovered 
 and made prisoners. 
 
 The distance from the Porta del Popolo to the Ponte 
 Milvio is three kilometres (11 miles). The road is as 
 straight and as level as if it were ruled on a map, is 
 remarkably muddy when wet and remarkably dusty when 
 dry, is seamed by the rails of a tramway and punctuated 
 by the iron posts proper to the same. It passes through 
 an unfinished and undecided suburb, which is, in the 
 meantime, slatternly and woeful. There are factories 
 by the road that look prosperous, as well as squatter 
 shops, emerging from the shanty stage, that look hopeful ; 
 but there are also immense houses, unoccupied and in- 
 
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 The Inn at Merluzza 
 
 complete, that to their innermost hollow re-echo to the 
 clatter of the passing tramcar. They remain as monu- 
 ments to an ambition that was never realised or to an 
 enterprise that failed. These partly built houses are 
 of such varied type that they give to the place the 
 aspect of an experimental street where builders' ventures, 
 failures and ideas are retained for reference or for 
 educational purposes. 
 
 Some way farther on, towards the bridge, the road 
 passes through a frowsy, mongrel land, a hybrid quarter, 
 part country, part town, such as is to be found on the 
 growing margin of every great city. Through a coarse 
 breach in the wall the stately garden, once as secluded 
 as a convent close, has been entered by the despoiler 
 from the town and has become a jungle of rotting weeds 
 and unutterable filth. Green hedges have been whittled 
 by street urchins into a starved row of crooked sticks, 
 waste paper is blown about in the place of rose petals, 
 while every tree trunk is plastered over with gaudy 
 posters which announce, as with the voice of a trumpet, 
 the virtues of a new liqueur. The green meadow, the 
 vineyard, the lady's pleasaunce have been desecrated 
 and defiled. The virginal sweet country has been pawed 
 over by the dirty hand of the satyr of the city, while 
 on either side are horrible waste places from which all 
 meaning and all association have vanished, so that they 
 are in the story of the land as vacant blots in a man's 
 memory. 
 
 Among the rubbish heaps, the picnic inns and the 
 beer gardens are just a few of the old low-roofed, squat 
 cottages left, still covered with creepers, still beautiful, 
 but so unhappy in their surroundings that it is merciful 
 
 151
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 to hope that they will soon be hacked to pieces to 
 make room for the less incongruous petrol store of 
 corrugated iron. 
 
 In Guido Franceschini's day this part of the Via 
 Flaminia presented only a few scattered houses, to- 
 gether with many gardens, stretching across the open 
 country.* Traces of these houses and of substantial 
 villas are still to be seen, while, no doubt, they were 
 interspersed with "wretched dwellings," as Signor 
 Silvagni maintains, for he describes the suburb out- 
 side the Porta del Popolo as "miserable."! The 
 suburb may have been miserable, but the road was 
 not unpicturesque. On one side of it now, for some 
 distance, is a bare yellow clifif hung with bushes, capped 
 by cypresses and riddled with romantic-looking caves, 
 some of which are still inhabited (Plate 27). 
 
 A little way along the road is an old and handsome 
 fountain with a water trough. It is in the classical 
 style, and lacks nothing in the way of marble tablet 
 and inscription (Plate 28). I cannot help thinking that 
 at this fountain Guido and his followers must have 
 stayed to quench their thirst on the night of January 
 2nd. It is a long run from the Via Vittoria, and 
 murdering is hot work. This is the first water they 
 would have come upon in their flight, for they would 
 never have dared to halt in the Piazza del Popolo 
 with the hue and cry resounding in the alarmed streets 
 behind them. 
 
 The Ponte Milvio, or Ponte Molle, is a handsome 
 
 * See for example the Plan of Rome given in Scoto's " Intinerario d' 
 Italia," published in Padua in 1670. 
 
 •j- " La Corte e la Societa Romana nei XVIII e XIX secoli." 
 
 152
 
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 The Inn at Merluzza 
 
 grey bridge, with an imposing gateway of stone at the 
 north end which was not in existence in Guido's time. 
 The first bridge erected upon this spot was built in the 
 year 109 b.c. Some traces of the old foundations are 
 still to be seen, but the bridge took its present form 
 in 1805. Old prints, however, show that the Ponte 
 Milvio at the end of the seventeenth century was but 
 little different from the present structure (see Plates 29 
 and 30). 
 
 On the city side of the bridge is the queer little 
 Chapel of Saint Andrew, built in 1462 to commemorate 
 an occasion when the Pope, the cardinals, the priests 
 and monks of every degree, together with "the whole 
 population of Rome," came to the foot of the bridge 
 in solemn procession to receive a gift to the city. 
 The present was nothing more than a man's head — 
 a brown, shrivelled, mummified thing, in a box ; 
 but it was a part of no less a person than Saint 
 Andrew, and it had reached Rome after very vivid 
 adventures. 
 
 The Tiber here is a fine stream, not caerulean, as 
 Virgil describes it, nor yellow nor tawny, as Macaulay 
 makes it appear ; but a river of a sober, putty-colour, 
 flowing between banks of bare mud. 
 
 The actual village or hamlet at Ponte Milvio is 
 exceedingly depressing, especially in the winter time, 
 for it is given over entirely to conviviality of so un- 
 couth and squalid a type as to engender melancholy. 
 In England it would be classed as a Bank Holiday 
 resort. The sadness of the place lies in the fact that 
 it aims at being a rustic village, where the folk of the 
 city can enjoy the pleasures of the country ; but the 
 
 153
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 country is shabby and out at elbows, and cannot be 
 made pastoral by a few crude pergolas and some 
 painted arbours. In this Arcadia, Strephon and 
 Amaryllis are decked, not with garlands and wreaths, 
 but with papier-machd noses and paper hats, while the 
 shepherd's pipe is replaced by the concertina, and the 
 gambols of the lamb by the performing clown. 
 
 Beyond the bridge, and behind the would-be-joyous 
 village, is the rim of rising ground which forms the 
 fringe of the Roman Campagna. This is a beautiful 
 belt of green hillocks covered with trees, of gardens 
 and prim villas, w^here from any clearing can be seen 
 the vast figure of the city of Rome, with — towering 
 above it — the basilica of St. Peter's in the Vatican. 
 
 It was somewhere in this pleasant belt by the 
 river-side that the Abate Paolo had his vineyard, and 
 here was the little house among the vines where his 
 brother and the four murderers hid themselves during 
 the dismal Christmas that preceded the tragedy in the 
 Via Vittoria. 
 
 At the Ponte Milvio two ancient highways take 
 their departure for the north. The road to the right 
 is the Via Flaminia, which — as already stated — runs 
 due north across the country until it meets the shores 
 of the Adriatic at Rimini. The road was built in the 
 year 220 B.C., by the Consul Flaminius, by the same 
 Flaminius who, a few years later (217 B.C.), was defeated 
 by Hannibal at the disastrous battle of Lake Trasimene. 
 It was by this very highway that the news of the 
 annihilation of the Roman army and of the death of 
 the great road-maker reached Rome. By this road 
 came Pompilia and Caponsacchi in their flight from 
 
 154
 
 The Inn at Merluzza 
 
 Arezzo, while less than fourteen miles along the way from 
 the Ponte Milvio is the little town of Castelnuovo, 
 which was the scene of the most dramatic episode in 
 the story of the Franceschini. 
 
 The road to the left is the Via Cassia, another old 
 Roman highway. It runs north-west by Baccano, 
 Viterbo, Bolsena, Orvieto and Chiusi to Arezzo and 
 Florence. It is a less easy road than the Via Flaminia, 
 and in olden times was comparatively little used except 
 by horsemen and mule teams. Travellers on the way 
 to Rome from northern Europe came more usually by 
 the Via Flaminia, or, as it was commonly called, the 
 " Consular Road." 
 
 It was by the Via Cassia that Guido and his 
 associates fled in their attempt to reach the Tuscan 
 frontier. The road had every attraction. Although 
 rough and hilly, it was the most direct road to Arezzo, 
 and was the way that those who travelled on foot would 
 naturally take. Moreover, it was less frequented, while 
 for some miles after leaving Rome it crossed a very 
 desolate part of the Campagna. 
 
 The road passes through a singularly bare country, 
 almost untenanted, where for miles the traveller may 
 not come upon a single habitation of man. The first 
 place reached by the fugitives along the road was the 
 little hamlet of La Storta, which is nine miles north of 
 the city. Here is a post-house, the first out of Rome. 
 Here Guido, in the depth of the night in January, 
 hammered at the door, aroused the landlord and 
 demanded horses for himself and his company. He 
 probably knocked upon the door with the handle of 
 the dagger which was still wet with the blood of 
 
 »55
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Pompilia, and probably, too, the landlord, as he parleyed 
 from an upper window, was a little alarmed at the 
 appearance of five bedraggled men, in the garb of vine- 
 dressers, who stood before the door panting for breath, 
 and who were very free with their curses when horses 
 were declined until the necessary permit could be 
 produced. The five would stand out clearly enough 
 before the eye of the housewife if she peeped through 
 the shutter, for it was a bright night, and only three 
 days after the full moon.* This midnight halt at La 
 Storta forms one of the vivid scenes in the story — the 
 sleeping village, the long black shadows cast by the 
 moon across the white road, the gaunt figure of Guido 
 Franceschini knocking at the barred door, and his 
 four companions in a group behind him, faint with 
 fatigue, fanning their dripping foreheads, or stoop- 
 ing forwards to gain breath with their hands on their 
 knees. 
 
 La Storta has probably altered but little since the 
 time when Guido halted there on that winter's night. 
 It is a pleasant little hamlet, consisting of a few old 
 dwellings, a large farmhouse and the ancient inn. The 
 inn is a low building, of no mean size, with a portico 
 facing the road, and with ample outhouses and stables 
 clustered around it. It is still a busy place, for it is an 
 inn of excellent repute. Inscriptions painted on the 
 wall announce that it provides choice wines, beer and 
 mineral waters, as well as fresh eggs and garden produce. 
 It, furthermore, is furnished with " saloons for banquets," 
 Stripped of its modern plaster and its paint, it would 
 appear once more as the old post-house which has so 
 
 * The full moon fell on December 30th, 1697.
 
 62. — PERUGIA: A DARK ENTRY
 
 The Inn at Merluzza 
 
 rejoiced the hearts of travellers in centuries gone by, 
 for La Storta is the last stage in the journey to Rome 
 (Plate 31). 
 
 La Storta is an oasis in the Campagna, and when 
 well clear of the hamlet the features of this open country 
 can be well appreciated. It is a wide, undulating land, 
 naked and bleak, immense, monotonous, and in colour 
 a weary, faded green. This is the Campagna in January. 
 In the spring it is a little brightened by flowers. In 
 the summer, again, it is parched and brown. On all 
 sides, for miles and miles, is the same vast ocean of 
 waving downs, smooth as a heaving sea when the wind 
 has dropped, without a house in sight and relieved only 
 by occasional trees, by some stretches of wood, by a few 
 green glens, by deep gullies which recall the dongas on 
 the South African veldt, and by the long white, hedge- 
 less road. "What do you think the famous Campagna 
 is like?" writes the cheery de Brosses, who saw this 
 vast grass-land in the winter. "It consists of a suc- 
 cession of sterile hillocks, deserted, uncultured, most 
 dreary and intensely miserable." The Earl of Perth, 
 who crossed the Campagna in May and had an eye for 
 picturesque scenery, could see nothing in this vast 
 panorama "but wild, uncultivated collines." Those 
 who are familiar with this district in the winter can 
 quite believe that one hundred years and more ago it 
 was haunted, as Silvagni asserts, by brigands, rogues 
 and vagabonds, as well as infested by wolves. 
 
 Just beyond La Storta, and to the right of the road, 
 there is a remarkable part of the Campagna, which, 
 while it would not interest Guido and his friends, 
 may be lingered over for a moment. It can best be 
 
 157
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'^ 
 
 described in the words of George Dennis* : "A wide 
 sweep of thie Campagna lies before us, in this part 
 broken into ravines or narrow glens, which, by varying 
 the lines of the landscape, redeem it from the monotony 
 of a plain, and by patches of wood relieve it of its 
 usual nakedness and sterility. On a steep clif¥, about 
 a mile distant, stands the village of Isola — a village in 
 fact, but in appearance a large chateau, with a few 
 outhouses around it. Behind it rises the long, swelling 
 ground which once bore the walls, temples and palaces of 
 Veii, but is now a bare down, partly fringed with wood, 
 and without a single habitation on its surface. . . 
 Such is Veii — once the most powerful, the most wealthy 
 city of Etruria, renowned for its beauty, its arts and 
 refinement, which in size equalled Athens and Rome, 
 and in military force was not inferior to the latter — 
 now void and desolate, without one house or habitant, 
 its temples and palaces level with the dust, and nothing 
 beyond a few fragments of walls and some empty 
 sepulchres remaining to tell the traveller that here 
 Veii was." And yet it was from Veii that a host of 
 fighting-men poured forth to join Lars Porsena of 
 Clusium when he made his march on Rome and was 
 met by Horatius and his comrades at the bridge. 
 
 As has already been stated (p. 74), the five mur- 
 derers, after the rebuff at La Storta, found refuge in an 
 inn which is described in the Yellow Book as "a few 
 miles from Rome," and more precisely as the tavern of 
 Merluzza, in the direction of Baccano. Now Merluzza, 
 or Merlazza, finds a place on the map on the Via Cassia 
 at exactly 24 kilometres (or 14J miles) from Rome — that 
 
 * " The Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria." Vol. I., chap. I.
 
 The Inn at Merluzza 
 
 is to say, between five and six miles beyond La Storta. 
 When this particular point of tlie road is reached it 
 will be discovered that Merluzza is not a village, is not 
 even a hamlet, but is the name simply of a district of the 
 Campagna. One kilometre beyond it is an isolated and 
 ancient watch tower, the Torre del Bosco, a grey, spectral 
 tower, standing in a spinney, like a pillar of salt ; while 
 beyond again — just 4 kilometres from Merluzza — is the 
 curious Valley of Baccano, at one time the crater of a 
 volcano, now a green basin surrounded by a smoothly 
 moulded amphitheatre of hills. 
 
 Now at Merluzza there is one solitary house, and 
 that a very ancient one. It stands on the left-hand side 
 of the road. It is not only alone, but there is no other 
 house in sight. This building is prominently placed, for 
 it occupies the top of a hill or ridge on the side towards 
 Rome. This high ground has an elevation of 810 feet, 
 and thus it is that the solitary house can be seen from afar 
 by any who follow the Via Cassia out of Rome. The 
 country at Merluzza is singularly desolate and bleak, but 
 the view from the height is magnificent, for it commands 
 the whole of the Campagna up to the walls of Rome, 
 while at the end of the vast grey plain there stands up 
 against the skyline, like a dot of cloud, the great dome 
 of St. Peter's. 
 
 The solitary house at Merluzza is now practically 
 derelict ; but it was at one time an inn, and there can 
 be no doubt that it was within the walls of this lonely 
 tavern that Guido and the four were arrested at the break 
 of dawn on January 3rd, 1698. From the isolated posi- 
 tion of the inn, on a height in the open Campagna, it is 
 probable that its grimy walls were not unacquainted with 
 
 159
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 rogues and vagabonds ; so that Guido, stained though he 
 was with blood and dirt, would feel assured of at least a 
 cautious welcome. The house is of good size and is 
 very substantially built of stone. It presents an upper 
 floor the rooms of which are small and low. A crumb- 
 ling stone stair leads to the main door, which opens on to 
 the road. There are two other doorways, on the south 
 side of the house, which look towards Rome. They are 
 surmounted by round arches of stone, are flanked by 
 stone pilasters, and are evidently of considerable age 
 (Plate 32). From the general aspect of the house one 
 would gather that, even in Franceschini's time, it was a 
 building which had been long familiar to the passer-by. 
 Standing in front of this melancholy tavern, early in 
 the morning of a day in January, I found it easy to recall 
 the scene in the road for which it had formed the back- 
 ground two centuries ago. In the highway would be 
 the group of dazed and sullen prisoners tied to their 
 horses and surrounded by a guard of police. On the 
 steps before the door of the inn would be the distracted 
 landlord, very scantily dressed, whose sympathy with the 
 ill-fortune of his late guests would be tempered by a sense 
 of the suspicion which had fallen upon his house ; while 
 from the upper windows the women of the inn, hastily 
 aroused, would be watching the movements of the 
 strange company. If Guido turned his gaze towards the 
 south, he would see on the fringe of the plain the city of 
 Rome made rose-coloured by the light of the rising 
 sun, and would wonder what fate awaited him within 
 its gentle-looking walls. 
 
 160
 
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 AREZZO 
 
 "A REZZO'S but a little place," writes Robert 
 r-\ Browning in "The Ring and the Book." 
 Little it certainly is when compared with Rome 
 or Florence, but it has a population of over sixteen 
 thousand people, and it may be doubted if at any 
 period within historical times its roll of citizens has 
 been less than now. Arezzo is one of the venerable 
 cities of Italy, having been famous as Arretium, one of 
 the twelve towns of the great Etruscan Federation. 
 It was here that the Consul Flaminius, the road-maker, 
 had his camp on the eve of the fatal battle of Lake 
 Trasimene. Arezzo was never tired of fighting. In 
 the bloody quarrel between the Guelphs and Ghibel- 
 lines the men of Arezzo were at all times in the thick 
 of it. They spent their leisure in the making of red 
 pottery, which became famous the world over ; but on 
 the sound of alarm they kicked over the potter's 
 wheel and rushed to the ramparts with the clay still 
 red on their hands. 
 
 The town lies near the end of a vast level plain, 
 the Val di Chiana, on a slight hillock or slope at the 
 foot of the Alpe di Poti. Behind, and at a respectful 
 distance, stand the Etruscan Apennines, the Alpe di 
 Catenaja and the " Mountains of the Moon." Arezzo 
 is excellently placed. Viewed from afar, it appears as a 
 low, dome-shaped mass of houses from the unassuming 
 
 L l6l
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 summit of which rise the quaint campanile of Capon- 
 sacchi's church, Santa Maria della Pieve, the bell-tower 
 of the Palazzo Communale and the long roof of the 
 Cathedral. 
 
 Arezzo is now, as it always has been, a walled city. 
 It is confined within the limits of its ancient fortifica- 
 tions. Up to its very walls creeps the artless country. 
 Those who lean over the ramparts look down upon 
 growing corn or upon olive trees, or in the winter 
 time upon oxen ploughing. Only in one place has 
 the city broken out of its long-respected boundaries. 
 This is at the San Spirito Gate, where is a disorderly 
 suburb. The houses seem to have rushed out of the 
 town, as schoolboys dash out of school, and to have 
 disposed themselves in untidy groups along the Perugia 
 Road. Arezzo is proud of many things — of its blood- 
 thirstiness in the past, of its red pottery, of Petrarch, 
 the sweet singer, and of Guido Monaco, the inventor 
 of musical notation, both of whom were born within 
 its gates; but it is prouder still of its fine, upstanding 
 walls. These walls are very motherly in the way in 
 which they enfold the city in their arms and, at the 
 same time, very defiant in the stern front they present 
 to the open plain. They are built of small square 
 stones, and are in perfect preservation, although they date 
 from a remote period in the Middle Ages. 
 
 The town is as pleasant a one as is to be found in 
 the whole of Umbria. It is clean, prim and cheery, 
 and full of memories of old days. The main street, 
 the Corso, mounts up from the San Spirito Gate, past 
 the Church of the Pieve, to the top of the town, where 
 
 are the Duomo and the Palazzo Communale. This 
 
 162
 
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 Arezzo 
 
 high street is always bustling and full of life. The 
 houses, like the shops, have been much modernised, so 
 that those who enter Arezzo from the Perugia Road 
 find themselves in a bright, up-to-date little city. This 
 modern aspect, however, is limited to the Corso. The 
 rest of the town is quiet, comparatively empty and 
 almost wholly mediaeval. The streets between the 
 Corso and the walls are paved, narrow and full of 
 shade because the buildings are high, while they wander 
 about among the quaint old houses as if they had lost 
 their way. 
 
 The town in its general disposal and appearance 
 can have altered but little since the days of the story. 
 Pompilia would find her way to the San Clemente Gate 
 without missing a turning and without seeing a great 
 deal that would be new to her. Even old Pietro 
 Comparini — if he could come to life again — would 
 have no great difficulty in following the devious lanes 
 and by-ways that led to his favourite tavern. Many of 
 the houses in the old town are very dignified, a few are 
 magnificent and nearly all present some feature which 
 makes them picturesque. I have failed to discover 
 where the Franceschini Palace stood, but there are 
 houses enough which would fit, in varying detail, with 
 one's conception of that melancholy dwelling. One 
 such house is shown, on the left-hand side of the 
 roadway, in Plate 34, while the lane itself would be 
 just such a one as Caponsacchi strolled through on the 
 eventful occasion when he dropped the handkerchief 
 (p. 43). There are many walled gardens within the 
 little town, many unexpected squares and strange entries, 
 the beautiful Abbey of San Fiore and nearly half a score 
 
 163
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 of churches, all centuries old, which have altered in 
 no essential since the time when Pompilia went sobbing 
 along the street to seek comfort from the bishop. The 
 little countess would find the Piazza Grande scarcely- 
 changed at all since the time when she loitered in the 
 cool shadows of Vasari's Logge to admire the Madonna 
 over the great doorway of the Brotherhood of Pity, 
 and yet the Madonna was already two hundred years 
 old when Pompilia first came to Arezzo. 
 
 Within the cathedral she would see little that was 
 not wholly familiar, and could look once more upon 
 
 "Those lancet-windows' jewelled miracle''; 
 
 but the outside of the building she would notice to be 
 somewhat changed ; for although the faqade was com- 
 menced in 1277, its completion — so leisurely have been 
 the builders — was not undertaken until 1901. 
 
 The most picturesque church in Arezzo is Capon- 
 sacchi's church, Santa Maria della Pieve. It stands at 
 the top of the Corso, just at the point where the shops 
 cease and where the road becomes narrow and steep, 
 and strangely quiet (Plate 35). The crude, rough, square 
 campanile, with its storeys of round-headed windows, was 
 built in 1216, and has been for just upon seven hundred 
 years a familiar landmark in the valley. It is an im- 
 pressive symbol of simplicity and rugged strength. The 
 fagade of the church was erected at the same time as 
 the great bell-tower, and is as delicate, as richly adorned, 
 as feminine as the tower is plain, masculine and lusty. 
 This western front of the church presents four storeys of 
 arcades, where pillar and arch are made beautiful by most 
 exquisite masons' v/ork. The stone is grey with age and 
 
 164
 
 
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 Arezzo 
 
 very weather-worn, while so narrow is the road and so 
 lofty the church that this vast front would appear to 
 have been chiselled out of the face of a cliff. 
 
 Above the central door of the church is the figure 
 of the Virgin, clad in a very fine embroidered gown 
 with long sleeves and with a crown on her head. 
 Through this door must have passed at one time or 
 another all the chief actors in the story : Count Guido 
 and his shrinking wife, Caponsacchi and the genial 
 Conti, Donna Beatrice and the false Maria Margherita 
 Contenti, the Abate Paolo with the foxy face, Violante 
 Comparini and old Pietro, Venerino from the Canale 
 Inn, and possibly also the four murderers when they 
 made a Sabbath day's journey from Vitiano to their 
 master's town (Plate 36). 
 
 In the archivolt above the Madonna are some quaintly 
 carved figures illustrating the months of the year. These 
 cannot fail to have interested Pompilia as she walked 
 under the archway. If one recalls the details and seasons 
 of the story certain of these little figures are curiously 
 apt. For example, April gathers a flower, and it may 
 be that Caponsacchi would remember this conceit and 
 glory in it during the dull hours of his banishment. May 
 takes a journey on horseback, and one wonders if the 
 road traversed lay between Arezzo and Rome ? Decem- 
 ber is engaged in killing a pig, and from records one 
 knows that Guido regarded Violante as something lower 
 than a pig. 
 
 The interior of the Pieve is peculiarly impressive. 
 Most of the churches in Italy are too lavishly decorated 
 within, are overlaid with gilt and brilliant colours, are 
 adorned with images and pictures, are hung with vast 
 
 165
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 candelabra and present a number of side chapels which 
 vie with one another in gaudy magnificence. Here is a 
 church superb in its simplicity and as austere as a great 
 hall in a fortress. It is entirely free from all decoration, 
 from monuments, from pictures and from ornate furni- 
 ture. It is wholly grey, for there is not a patch of 
 colour in it. The grey may be deepened by shadow or 
 brightened by a ray of sun ; it may vary in tint as the 
 stone is smooth in one place or made rough by decay 
 in another, but it is always grey. On each side of the 
 huge nave are grey stone pillars of enormous height. 
 The altar is raised upon a platform, so that it seems 
 to occupy the dais in a judgment hall ; the immense 
 paved floor is absolutely bare, and, indeed, the sole 
 evidence of the human presence on the occasion of 
 my first visit was a solitary chair against the wall with 
 a white surplice thrown over it. It is no wonder if 
 Pompilia was oppressed with the profound solemnity 
 of this place, with its ascetic harshness, its coldness, 
 its cavernous gloom. It was so utterly unlike her own 
 particular church in Rome— the gay, bright, much 
 gilded, much painted little Church of San Lorenzo in 
 Lucina. It can be understood how it was that after 
 a long service in this severe basilica she felt, when 
 she stepped out into the sunshine again, that she 
 must run away, and why it was that she fled to the 
 bishop to beg him help her to escape. 
 
 Outside the entrance to Santa Maria della Pieve 
 is a paved terrace with a stone balustrade around it 
 (Plate 36). It is a favourite lounging place when the 
 service of the church is over, because it commands a 
 
 view of the Corso both up and down the hill, and allows 
 
 1 66
 
 66. DISTANT VIEW OF THE CHURCH OF ST. MARY 
 OF THE ANGELS. 
 
 
 67.— ASSIST, FROM THE CHURCH OF SAN FRANCESCO.
 
 Arezzo 
 
 of a scrutiny of the worshippers as they disperse at the 
 terrace steps. No gossiping is more keenly favoured 
 than that which engages the Httle groups outside a 
 church while the congregation is pouring forth, and 
 while the smell of incense still hangs in the air. Many 
 a gaping youth must have waited shyly on this terrace 
 to see the little countess go by with her boor of a 
 husband, for there is no doubt that the Franceschini 
 household was the subject of much comment. 
 
 Opposite the church is an old stone building of 
 some pretence, which was once the Canale Inn. It 
 was here that Caponsacchi obtained the horses for the 
 journey, as well as the services of the driver, Francesco 
 Borsi, otherwise Venerino, who was destined to spend 
 so many months in the city jail. This ancient house 
 is now an old curiosity shop, but it shows still the 
 great arched doorway of the tavern and the liberal 
 proportions of the place. The entrance leads into a 
 huge, heavy apartment, which one may assume was 
 the common room of the inn. From the fine row of 
 windows on the first floor it is to be gathered that the 
 upper rooms of the house are of no mean proportions 
 (Plate 37). 
 
 So far as the present matter is concerned, the chief 
 interest in Arezzo is associated with the particulars of 
 the flight of Pompilia and the priest. It will be re- 
 membered that they escaped on the night of the last 
 Sunday in April, 1697, or rather early on the morning 
 of Monday, the 29th, because it was not until after 
 midnight that Pompilia crept out of her husband's 
 house. Venerino, with a carriage and two horses from 
 
 the Canale Inn, had left the town on Sunday evening, 
 
 167
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'* 
 
 before the gates were closed, and was instructed to be 
 in waiting for the fugitives outside the San Clemente 
 Gate. The particular time for the flight was not ill 
 arranged. Easter was well over, for in the year 1697 
 Easter Day fell on April 14th. The night was dark, 
 since the moon was just approaching its first quarter. 
 By the use of the Metonic Cycle it appears that the 
 day of the new moon was April 23rd, so that before 
 the carriage was well on the road the moon, with its 
 feeble light, would have set. 
 
 Now the direct way to Rome was by the Perugia 
 Road, which leaves the south part of the town at the 
 San Spirito Gate. The question at once arises why 
 did Caponsacchi order the carriage to be in waiting at 
 the San Clemente Gate, which is at the north end of 
 the town, and at the farthest possible point from the 
 Perugia Road ? The answer is clear — the city gates 
 were all closed, and at some spot or another the wall 
 had to be scaled. Now, the walls of Arezzo are of con- 
 siderable height, and at the San Spirito Gate are as 
 impossible to climb on the inside as they are on the 
 outside. The Yellow Book, however, says, " As the 
 gates of the city were closed, they climbed the wall 
 on the hill of the Torrione, and having reached the 
 Horse Inn, outside the Gate San Clemente, they were 
 there awaited by a two-horse carriage." 
 
 The San Clemente Gate is a plain, simple gate, 
 with one entrance only, closed by massive and ancient 
 wooden doors. The stonework of the gate has been 
 restored, but the general features of the entry are un- 
 disturbed. Beyond the gate is the open country ; in- 
 deed, the cornfields and the olive trees come up to 
 
 1 68
 
 Arezzo 
 
 the very foot of the walL It so happens that there is an 
 inn just outside the gate, but it is quite modern, while 
 of the Horse Inn of Pompilia's time no trace is to be 
 found (Plate 38). 
 
 Standing inside the town, it will be noticed that 
 the wall to the left of the gate is as high and as sheer 
 on the side of the city as it is on the side that looks 
 outwards. On the right hand of the gate, however, 
 the ground within the town rises in the form of a hill, 
 so that the summit of the wall can be reached to within 
 a few feet (see Plate 39). No trace of this hill exists 
 outside the ramparts. 
 
 At the top of this hill a great bastion stands out 
 from the face of the main wall (see Map 33 and 
 Plate 40). Its purpose is obviously to protect the San 
 Clemente Gate. On the top of the bastion are certain 
 masses of masonry, which shows that it was once sur- 
 mounted by a tower or defensive work of some kind. 
 This is the Torrione, or Great Tower, and the hill that 
 leads up to it within the wall is the "Hill of the 
 Torrione" mentioned in the Yellow Book. It will 
 be seen from Plate 40 that there is a window on one 
 face of the bastion which evidently lit some room in 
 the base of the tower. It is apparent from the illus- 
 trations that there would be no difficulty to-day in 
 climbing the wall at the Torrione at the point where it 
 was scaled by the young countess and the able-bodied 
 priest (Plate 41). The drop on the other side of the 
 wall, however, is very considerable, and one can only 
 suppose that at the time of the flight there must have 
 been some heaps of rubbish outside the wall, made up 
 possibly of stones from the ruined or dismantled tower. 
 
 169
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 The top of this bastion, or tower, is singularly pictur- 
 esque, for the irregular masses of stone are overgrown 
 with weeds, and these, together with a cluster of bushes, 
 have converted the old stronghold into a wild garden. A 
 garrison, and a strong garrison, still holds this redoubt, 
 inasmuch as the garden is given over to bees. Scattered 
 everywhere among the green are hives. Some of these 
 aim at reproducing the frame hive of the modern bee- 
 keeper, but the greater number of them are hives of a 
 kind that Pompilia would be familiar with, for they are 
 made of a log of rough wood hollowed out, and provided 
 at one end with an entrance for the bees. These uncouth, 
 archaic log hives are no doubt more ancient than even 
 the humble skep. 
 
 A road runs round outside the town from the San 
 Clemente Gate to the Porta San Spirito, and this is the 
 road the fugitives followed. The San Spirito Gate has 
 been pulled down and has been replaced by a barrier, 
 rather notable for its ugliness, called the Barriera Vittorio 
 Emanuele. So both the old gate and the old name have 
 gone to meet the needs of modern "improvements." 
 
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 IV 
 THE FLIGHT TO ROME 
 
 1. THE ROAD 
 
 THE distance from Arezzo to Rome by Foligno 
 and the Via Flaminia is 154f miles. There are 
 other roads, of course, between the city and the 
 Tuscan town. The shortest is by Todi and Narni, but 
 it does not seem to have been what the ItaUans call 
 "carriageable" at the end of the seventeenth century. 
 Another road — and an old road — is by way of Chiusi and 
 Orvieto. This road was apparently not much used in the 
 past, as is evident from the narratives of travellers who 
 were visiting Italy about the time with which the story is 
 concerned. I have made trial of these routes between 
 Arezzo and Rome, and can affirm that, in the light of 
 modern requirements, the Foligno Road is the most 
 agreeable and, on the whole, the most easy. The 
 road is described in the Yellow Book as "the shortest 
 route" and is spoken of as "the Consular Road" — 
 the road, that is, made by the Consul Flaminius 
 (p. 154). The Via Flaminia comes down from Rimini, 
 and joins the Perugia Road at Foligno. Foligno 
 was an important point in the route of flight, because 
 the two runaways were charged with having spent 
 the night together in that town on their way to 
 Rome. 
 
 The Flaminian Road was the one almost invariably 
 
 followed by travellers who were seeking the Eternal 
 
 171
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 City from the northern parts of Europe. De Brosses 
 made use of it on his return journey from Rome because, 
 in his opinion, "the route from Siena to Rome was 
 simply infamous." Father Montfaucon, who travelled 
 from Rome to Arezzo in March, 1700, took this road 
 and occupied nine days on the journey, one Sunday 
 being necessarily included.* 
 
 The Earl of Perth after his long imprisonment in 
 Stirling Castle pursued this road on his way to Rome 
 in the spring of 1695. t 
 
 Goethe, too, when he visited Rome in October, 
 1786, came by Arezzo, Perugia, Foligno and Civita 
 Castellana. It is noteworthy that the carriage journey 
 from Perugia to Rome occupied him no less than six 
 days, although he travelled in haste, since his " anxiety 
 to see Rome was so great. "+ This will serve to show 
 at what exceptional speed the journey of Pompilia and 
 the priest was carried out. More interesting still is the 
 fact that Robert Browning and his wife made the journey 
 from Florence to Rome by way of Assisi and Terni in 
 the winter of 1854. § This was six years before the 
 Yellow Book came into the poet's possession. They 
 travelled, of course, by carriage, and were eight days 
 on the road. The more direct route from Florence 
 to Rome is by Siena and Radicofani, but they were 
 probably anxious to avoid the hills in the neighbour- 
 hood of those towns. It is not clear whether the 
 
 * "The Travels of the learned Father Montfaucon." London, 171 2. 
 t "Letters of James, Earl of Perth." London, Camden Society, 1845. 
 I "Goethe's Travels in Italy." London, 1885, p. 114. 
 § " Life of Robert Browning." By Mrs. Sutherland Orr. London, 
 1891. 
 
 172
 
 69.— THE OLD POSTING-HOUSE AT SANTA MARIA DEGLI ANGELI, 
 Showing the Church in the distance.
 
 The Road 
 
 Brownings reached Assisi by Chiusi or by Arezzo, 
 but certain it is that for the greater part of the 
 journey they followed, unknowingly, the footsteps of 
 Pompilia. 
 
 The details of the journey from Arezzo to Rome by 
 the route followed by Caponsacchi are to be gathered 
 from sundry road books dealing with this part of Italy. 
 The two most convenient of these books are " Direzione 
 pe' Viaggiatori in Italia," by Gio. Sassi, published at 
 Bologna in 1771, and "La Vera Guida per chi Viaggia 
 in Italia," issued in Rome, in Italian and French, in 
 1787. Although these works are of later date than the 
 period with which, we are concerned, they are of prac- 
 tical service, since posting-stations, being determined by 
 the position of towns and villages and the capacity of 
 the post-horse, cannot have varied much since even 
 earlier times. This is made evident by the " Itinerario 
 d'ltalia," by Francesco Scoto, published in Padua in 
 1670, where the posting-road from Perugia to Rome 
 is precisely as here given, although the names of two 
 or three of the stations are modified. The two guides 
 above named are provided w4th road maps, which are 
 not unlike the motor road maps of the present day, 
 save in this, that they show where the traveller can 
 obtain horses in the place of petrol. They give some 
 account of the road, and of places of interest by the 
 way (Plates 49 and 75). 
 
 "La Vera Guida" is singularly complete in its in- 
 formation. It commicnces with two prayers, which it 
 recommends as suitable for the traveller. It then em- 
 barks upon some very serious moral advice, in which 
 the reader is urged to avoid people of depraved morals, 
 
 i73
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'' 
 
 to decline to play cards with strangers, and not to make 
 acquaintances lightly. Very elaborate instructions are 
 given on the subject of highwaymen and footpads, and 
 on the course to be pursued when the traveller en- 
 counters either wolves or bears. It is pointed out, 
 with all the appearance of originality, that a provision 
 of money is necessary, and that a little knowledge of 
 surgery, with something more than a speculative know- 
 ledge of diseases, is useful. The book is not one to be 
 recommended 'to the nervous tourist. The reader is 
 advised, before entering his carriage, to take ^^ quelque 
 corroboratif pour fortifier son estomac,^' as the jolting 
 which is inevitable engenders vomiting ; and is implored, 
 when he sleeps in the open, to see that he is not ex- 
 posed to the rays of the moon, as such exposure may 
 cause him to become insane. Some pages are occu- 
 pied with counsel as to the treatment of the driver or 
 postilion. These sections, which are very full, were 
 evidently written by a shrewd man of the world, who 
 had no mean knowledge of stable hands. His method 
 of dealing with impertinence in underlings is worthy of 
 a diplomatist. 
 
 Along the road were certain post-stations, where 
 alone horses, either for riding or for the carriage, could 
 be obtained. The journey, therefore, resolved itself 
 into a question of the various halting places, and of 
 the distances between them. The actual number of 
 miles between one station and the next varied con- 
 siderably. It might be about six miles, as from Prima 
 Porta to Rome, or about seventeen miles, as from Arezzo 
 to Camoscia. The journey, however, was reckoned not 
 by miles but by so many " posts," each post representing 
 
 174
 
 The Road 
 
 the same definite payment for the hire of horses. Thus, 
 the journey from Prima Porta to Rome was reckoned 
 as one post, the journey from Arezzo to Camoscia as 
 a post and a half, and that from Civita Castellana to 
 Borghetto, a distance of three and three-quarter miles, 
 as three-quarters of a post. 
 
 The actual distance represented by a "post" varied 
 considerabl}^ and was to some extent influenced by 
 the character of the road. The average distance was 
 about eight miles. In the same district of Italy, one 
 journey of eight posts represents sixty-two miles, while 
 another journey of eight posts covers only fifty-four miles. 
 The first stage traversed on leaving any capital town was 
 called a " Posta Reale," and was charged at the rate 
 of a post and a half. 
 
 The distance from Arezzo to Castelnuovo by the 
 road in question is 138| miles, the posting-stations on 
 the way, at which the horses were changed, are four- 
 teen in number, while the number of "posts" the 
 traveller would be required to pay amounts to fifteen 
 and a half. These matters are set forth on p. 178. The 
 charge for horses per post varied in Italy from fifteen 
 to eight paoli, according to the country traversed. 
 This represented the payment for the horses only, 
 and did not include any part of the charge for the 
 carriage, the postilion, or the driver. Pompilia in 
 her flight passed through only two countries, viz. 
 Tuscany and the States of the Church. In both these 
 parts of Italy the charge per post for two carriage 
 horses was eight paoli or Pauls.* 
 
 The value of the paolo may be put down as five- 
 
 * The charge for one saddle horse was three paoli. 
 
 '75
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book 
 
 n 
 
 pence ; the amount, therefore, that Caponsacchi would 
 be required to pay for post-horses between Arezzo and 
 Castelnuovo would amount to about £2 10s. in English 
 currency of the present day. 
 
 The carriage used in the flight is described as a 
 "calesse," or " covered carriage." The calash, as it is 
 termed in English, is a light carriage with low wheels, 
 capable of seating four persons inside, and with a 
 separate seat for the driver. It is provided with a 
 covering or hood, which was in some examples fixed, 
 in others capable of being removed. The calesse, or 
 calash, is shown in many old prints and pictures belong- 
 ing to the period of the story.* The awning or canopy 
 is supported by four uprights, is square and very often 
 dome-topped. In some instances the driver sits within 
 the canopy, and could, therefore, see the occupants of 
 the carriage. In other forms of the calesse the 
 driver's seat is outside the awning, which then 
 covered in the carriage on four sides. If it was in 
 such a calesse that the priest and the lady travelled, 
 it is clear that the testimony of Venerino, the driver, 
 on the matter of the kissing is rendered still less 
 convincing. 
 
 The distance from Arezzo to Castelnuovo is, as 
 already stated, 138f miles. Assuming that the two 
 fugitives left Arezzo at 1 a.m. on the morning of 
 Monday, April 29th, and reached Castelnuovo at 7 p.m. 
 on the evening of Tuesday, the 30th, the journey would 
 have occupied them forty-two hours. If they travelled 
 without stopping the whole way, a pace of a little 
 
 * See for example the plates in the " Itinerario d'ltalia," by Scoto, published 
 in Padua, 1670. 
 
 176
 
 70. -THE TOWN WALI. OF SFELLO AND THE 
 rOLIGNO ROAD.
 
 The Road 
 
 over three miles an hour would be involved, but 
 allowing that they stopped one hour at each of the 
 fourteen posting-stations passed on the road, then 
 the pace would be represented by about five miles 
 an hour. 
 
 It is doubtful if, in actual fact, they went quite 
 so fast. The roads were mediaeval, and although for 
 a considerable part of the journey the way was fairly 
 level, there were a number of serious hills to be 
 climbed. Guido, who pursued the runaways on horse- 
 back, reached Castelnuovo some nine or ten hours 
 after they did, yet, although mounted, the pace at which 
 he travelled could hardly have exceeded that of the 
 couple in the carriage. If it be assumed that Pompilia's 
 escape was not discovered by the household until 
 about seven in the morning, she would have gained a 
 start of six hours. Then would follow a hurried 
 family council en deshabille, and the scurry of mes- 
 sengers sent hither and thither to find out in which 
 direction the little countess had fled. Finally, a posting 
 permit and a horse had to be obtained, a sum of 
 money had to be got together, and other preparations 
 made for a long and indefinite journey. It is probable, 
 therefore, that it was not until some nine or ten hours 
 after Pompilia had stepped out into the street on 
 tiptoe that Guido thundered through the San Spirito 
 Gate on his way to Rome. 
 
 The following are the post-stations between Arezzo 
 and Castelnuovo, together with the distance in English 
 miles between each halting-place and the number 
 of "posts" the traveller would have to pay at the 
 various stages. 
 
 M ,77
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Arezzo to — 
 
 
 MILES 
 
 POSTS CHARGED 
 
 Camoscia 
 
 • • ■ • • 
 
 17 
 
 li 
 
 Torricella 
 
 • • • • • 
 
 16 
 
 14 
 
 Perugia 
 
 • • • • < 
 
 13 
 
 I 
 
 Madonna degli Angeli 
 
 Hi 
 
 I 
 
 Foligno 
 
 
 9f 
 
 I 
 
 Vene 
 
 
 9l 
 
 I 
 
 Spoleto 
 
 
 7 
 
 I 
 
 Strettura 
 
 
 8| 
 
 I 
 
 Terni 
 
 
 74 
 
 I 
 
 Narni 
 
 
 n 
 
 I 
 
 Otricoli 
 
 
 8f 
 
 I 
 
 Borghetto 
 
 
 61 
 
 f 
 
 Civita Castellana 
 
 
 3f 
 
 f 
 
 Rignano 
 
 
 ei 
 
 I 
 
 Castelnuovo .... 
 
 
 7 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 138I 
 
 1 51 
 
 178
 
 2. FROM AREZZO TO PERUGIA 
 
 THE road from Arezzo to Foligno, and, indeed, 
 right on to Spoleto, a distance of over eighty 
 miles, may be described as practically level, 
 since it follows a succession of plains which are only 
 for a moment interrupted by the tumbled country 
 which lies between Lake Trasimene and Perugia. To 
 the left of the road, and quite near to it for most of 
 the way, are the foothills of the Apennines ; while 
 to the right is the vast even plain which in some 
 places, on a misty day, appears to be as boundless as 
 the ocean. This is what Goethe terms " the splendid 
 plain of Arezzo." Splendid it certainly is in its im- 
 mensity and in the solid mass of colour that fills it 
 — a vivid green in the spring, a grey umber in the 
 winter time. 
 
 The country is in good heart, for every acre of 
 the huge expanse is elaborately cultivated ; all the 
 woods have been cut down ; all the rough places made 
 smooth ; with the result that the land has become 
 like a great garden, prim, formal, artificial, and, it 
 must be owned, to some degree monotonous. A vine- 
 yard in full leaf, under an Italian sun, is a beautiful 
 object; but when that vineyard extends for eighty 
 miles, or is only broken here and there by a league 
 or so of olive trees, the eye wearies of it and the 
 
 mind is dulled by satiation. 
 
 179
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 The vine in this quarter of Italy is grown, for the 
 most part, on trees, on mulberry trees or on some 
 form of maple. These trees are made slaves of, are 
 trees of burden, whose sole purpose in life is to pro- 
 vide spreading branches for the vine to cling to. They 
 are pruned to the limits of deformity, are robbed of 
 any character of freedom or joyous living, and are 
 more like rustic candelabra, fashioned out of gnarled 
 wood, than trees. In the winter time, when the vine 
 is a mere distorted stick, these trees look like skeleton 
 hands coming out of the earth, with horribly knotted 
 fingers and long lean wrists. They are then unpleasant 
 to look upon, being so misshapen, so mutilated, so 
 tortured, so untree-like. 
 
 At the commencement of May, at the time when 
 Pompilia passed along the road, the vines are at their 
 loveliest. They are by no means fully grown, and 
 are, indeed, only just beginning to form festoons 
 from tree to tree ; but the leaves are wonderful, being 
 in tint a light yellowish green, as if each leaf had 
 been dipped in gold. They appear to be almost trans- 
 lucent, and to cast no shadow, to be almost luminous, 
 so that even when the sky is clouded they seem to 
 reflect the sun. These vines stand knee-deep in young 
 corn, and among the corn will be scarlet poppies. 
 
 The crops that, in squares and alleys and lanes, 
 cover every segment of the ground, are at their 
 prettiest, for the peas and the beans are in flower, 
 while everything that grows is young, luscious, sprightly 
 and eager, and every stream and rivulet is full. In 
 this carnival of spring in Italy is to be seen, spread 
 
 out like a carpet on the earth, every tint of green that 
 
 1 80
 
 
 o 
 w 
 
 Oh 
 W 
 
 o 
 
 u 
 
 < 
 O 
 
 U 
 X
 
 From Arezzo to Perugia 
 
 the mind of a painter ever imagined, from the lettuce 
 green of the baby crop to the sturdy middle-aged green 
 of the bay tree and the wizened green of the ancient, 
 shrunken, patriarchal olive. The young leaves of the 
 poplar tree are of so pallid a green that they appear to 
 be lit by moonlight, while the leaves of the acanthus 
 are of so deep a hue that one imagines they will be 
 black by the autumn. 
 
 As a relief to this flood of green there will be 
 a few patches of chocolate-brown earth, still unsown, a 
 field of claret-coloured clover, a mound of yellow 
 broom, a dome of white acacia trees in blossom, 
 a little stone town on a hill, a red-tiled cottage and a 
 hedge of pink and white wild roses. Every roadside, 
 every gully, every hedgerow and spinney are brilliant 
 with flowers, but the most beautiful sight that Umbria 
 can Idisplay in the early spring — a sight that Pompilia 
 must have paused to look upon — is a field of flax with 
 poppies in it. The flax forms a sheet of forget-me- 
 not blue, as level as a pool; while deep in the pool 
 — as if submerged in this amazing blue — are a thousand 
 scarlet cups. 
 
 Travellers in Italy in the spring have described in 
 
 language, almost extravagant, this road from Arezzo 
 
 to Perugia. Its wonderful charm none will dispute, 
 
 but it must not be supposed that because it is much 
 
 frequented it is the most beautiful highway in Umbria. 
 
 In picturesqueness and in variety it is far surpassed by 
 
 the road from Arezzo to Florence, by way of Monte- 
 
 varchi, the Val d'Arno, and the mouth of Vallombrosa, 
 
 as well as by the road from Perugia to Gubbio, through 
 
 the town of Umbertide. 
 
 i8i
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 To return to the road traversed by the Countess 
 Franceschini. Eight and three-quarter miles from Arezzo 
 the little hamlet of Vitiano is passed. It was here that 
 Count Guido had a vineyard, and it was from this place 
 that he obtained the four field labourers who were to 
 assist him in the murder of his invalid wife and her 
 aged foster parents. Vitiano consists of a few scattered 
 houses by the roadside (Plate 43), of a tiny church, 
 recently built, and of some well-to-do farms. It is on 
 a slope at the foot of the hills, and is surrounded by 
 a fertile country where, in addition to vineyards, are 
 orchards, olive groves and gardens. It is a very humble 
 settlement, with no suggestion of villainy about it, 
 and with nothing to mark it as the birthplace of 
 murderers. 
 
 Some two miles beyond Vitiano is the town of 
 Castiglion Fiorentino, the first town that the fugitives 
 would pass on their way to Rome (Plate 45). It is 
 proudly placed upon an isolated hill, looking at the 
 distance like a pile of square blocks of stone surmounted 
 by a lofty tower. The road does not enter the town, 
 but sweeps round the bottom of the hill. It would be 
 when the night was at its darkest that the priest and the 
 lady passed Castiglion. Save for a glimmer of light in 
 a window or two the town would be a mere heap of 
 blackness, but the runaways would be cheered by the 
 thought that they were already more than ten miles 
 from the terrible city of Arezzo. 
 
 Another thing that would cheer them through 
 
 the night would be the song of the nightingale, 
 
 for this part of Italy is much favoured by that 
 
 bird, while his song can be heard all along the way, 
 
 182
 
 From Arezzo to Perugia 
 
 and even from such windows in Perugia as overlook 
 the walls. 
 
 A little way beyond Castiglion it is just possible that 
 the two would catch a glimpse of the huge fortress of 
 Montecchio, standing up on the left of the road as 
 a dark battlemented mass against the dull sky. It is a 
 fine and gallant place by daylight, a brown fortress on 
 a low hill with a defiant tower in its centre, and with 
 many minor towers along its vast walls. 
 
 The first halting place for the change of horses was 
 Camoscia, or, as the modern maps spell it, Camucia. 
 This little village is seventeen miles from Arezzo, on 
 a road that is level all the way. Pompilia and her 
 friend would arrive here about half-past four in the 
 morning. As the carriage drew up at the inn the 
 little lady's heart would almost stop, as it would seem 
 that their headlong rush to Rome was checked. Here 
 Venerino left them to return to the Canale Inn, little 
 suspecting that he was to spend the whole of the 
 summer in jail simply because he had driven two 
 people seventeen miles on the way to Perugia. While 
 Caponsacchi was busy about the stables it is probable 
 that Pompilia would walk a little way back on the road 
 until, clear of the noisy bustle at the inn, she could 
 listen for the dreaded sound of pursuing hoofs coming 
 from the direction of Arezzo. 
 
 Camoscia is a straggling and quite modern village, 
 
 strongly suburban in type, which has arisen about the 
 
 railway station of Cortona ; for Camoscia lies at the foot 
 
 of the hill on the summit of which Cortona stands. 
 
 On the side towards Arezzo, however, there are traces 
 
 of the old village, in the form of houses of such apparent 
 
 183
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 age that they must have been in existence in Pompiha's 
 time. Among these it is not possible to identify with 
 any assurance the site of the old posting-house. The 
 building that can with most probability claim this dis- 
 tinction is shown in Plate 46. It is an ancient house 
 covered with grey-green tiles and surmounted by a 
 square stone pigeon cote of a type common in the 
 district. It is now a farmhouse, but its ample stabling 
 and general disposition suggest that it was at one time 
 the first "post" out of Arezzo. It is old enough to 
 have received Venerino and his pair of horses, while 
 certain it is that it was at such a house as this that 
 the carriage drew up at the end of the first long 
 stage. 
 
 The day would be dawning when the eager couple 
 reached Camoscia, and the growing light in the sky 
 would give heart to the little countess. High up on 
 the summit and slope of a hill, to the left of the road, 
 she would see Cortona. The ponderous walls, the 
 house tops, the towers and domes of that mysterious 
 city would stand up black against the rosy glow of the 
 dawn, for it is behind the mountains about Cortona 
 that the sun rises. Cortona stands at a height of nearly 
 1,300 feet above the level of the road, and is approached 
 from Camoscia by a very steep, winding causeway, 
 three miles in length. Cortona is — as the guide books 
 insist — one of the very oldest cities in Italy, for it 
 was the principal stronghold of the Etruscans. Its 
 Cyclopean walls still stand, and it still looks, in every 
 line of it, the impregnable mountain fortress (Plate 47). 
 The air of mystery about the place is due to the fact 
 
 that the city is of the same hue as the rocky hill from 
 
 184
 
 Q 
 < 
 O 
 
 < 
 
 a 
 
 D 
 Pi 
 W 
 
 w 
 
 DC 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 w 
 a: 
 
 o 
 
 2 
 
 < 
 
 o 
 w 
 
 O 
 2 
 
 C 
 
 o 

 
 From Arezzo to Perugia 
 
 which it springs, so that it is not ahvays easy to tell 
 bastion from precipice. The town seems to grow out 
 of the hill; there are strange, menacing structures and 
 forbidding entries here and there along the walls, while 
 within the city are those narrow, winding streets, those 
 dark lanes and secretive alleys, which are associated 
 with a cloaked figure and rapier type of romance 
 (Plate 48). 
 
 Probably no part of the long journey would give 
 such comfort to Pompilia as the beautiful road between 
 Cortona and Perugia, which latter town she and her 
 friend would reach about noon. They would pass 
 through this delectable country in the early morning, 
 would hear the note of the cuckoo and would 
 watch the sun flood the great plain around Lake 
 Trasimene. 
 
 About five miles south of Cortona they would reach 
 the frontier, and, having once crossed it, would feel 
 a little more secure. The frontier between Tuscany 
 and the States of the Church is marked by no especial 
 object. It lies just beyond the uninteresting village of 
 Terontola — the last place in Tuscany — and is indicated 
 by Monte Gualandro, on the summit of which is 
 an ancient fortress for the defence of the border 
 (Plate 50). 
 
 A little way across the frontier the fugitives would 
 come to a sudden bend in the road, and would there 
 obtain their first view of Lake Trasimene (Plates 
 51 and 52). They must assuredly have halted for a 
 moment at this spot to rest the horses, for it is at the 
 top of a hill, and Caponsacchi would have much to 
 say about the memories with which this particular 
 
 185
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 part of Italy is associated. Moreover, the sudden 
 view of the great lake is so bev^^itching and so peaceful 
 that Pompilia and her friend, hurried and harried as 
 they were, must have paused here to take comfort 
 from the sight. 
 
 The lake covers some fifty square miles and has a 
 circumference of over thirty miles. Its rounded outline 
 can be made out from the road ; its surface, when the 
 sun is shining, is a delicate faint blue, while all about 
 it is a circle of dim hills. A mist so frequently hangs 
 over the lake that the opposite shore — although it is 
 only eight and a half miles distant — can seldom be 
 clearly seen. The actual shores are flat and fringed 
 with reeds, so that the title of "reedy Thrasymene," 
 that Macaulay gives it, is singularly fitting. These 
 reeds in the early spring form a bright green border 
 to the lake, which is in exquisite contrast to the pale 
 blue water. In the winter time the reeds are a ruddy 
 yellow, and at a distance give the impression that the 
 shores of the mere are of level sand. The sloping 
 banks of the lake are for the most part covered with 
 olive groves, which complete the wonderful variation in 
 dim colours that make Trasimene so beautiful. I 
 have never seen the lake at any time, either in the 
 winter or in the spring, when it has not shown a sur- 
 face as smooth as a mirror, and thus it is that Trasimene 
 in a gale is to me beyond conception. 
 
 From the bend of the road two low islands are to 
 
 be seen on the lake, the one to the right being Isola 
 
 Maggiore and the other the Isola Minore. Caponsacchi 
 
 cannot have failed to remind his lady that on one of 
 
 these islets Saint Francis of Assisi fasted for forty days 
 
 1 86
 
 From Arezzo to Perugia 
 
 and forty nights, during which time he ate no more 
 than half a loaf. 
 
 This particular turn in the road has another interest 
 which would probably have occupied Pompilia but little. 
 The highway at this corner enters a defile, or narrowed 
 strait, lying between the hills on the left and the lake 
 on the right. The pass — if it can be so called — soon 
 widens out into a modest plain, but at Passignano, five 
 miles farther along the road, the hills come so close to 
 the water's edge again that a second pass, narrower than 
 the first, is encountered on the way. Thus it is that 
 between Borghetto — where is the bend in the road — ■ 
 and Passignano, which is on the water's edge, there is a 
 semicircular bay of fairly level ground between the hills 
 and the lake, which bay is shut in by a narrow strait, 
 or defile, at either end. In the widest part of the 
 amphitheatre so enclosed are a village called Tuoro and 
 a minute hamlet named Sanguineto. 
 
 The interest attaching to these data carries us back 
 to the spring of the year b.c. 217, when Rome and 
 Carthage were at war. Hannibal, the Carthaginian, had 
 left his winter quarters in Gaul, had crossed the Apen- 
 nines and the Arno, and was making his way towards 
 Rome. The Roman army under the Consul Flaminius 
 was stationed at Arezzo. Hannibal passed to the west 
 of that town in the direction of Lake Trasimene. 
 Flaminius, with his whole army, incautiously pursued 
 him. The Carthaginians entered the defile at Borghetto 
 and concealed themselves among the hills between the 
 two passes. The consul reached the lake in the early 
 morning to find the country enveloped in mist. Seeing 
 
 nothing of the enemy, he recklessly assumed that 
 
 187
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Hannibal was hurrying on to Rome. He boldly 
 entered the fatal defile with his entire army, and when 
 the whole force was w^ell in the trap Hannibal rushed 
 down upon him from the hills. The pass at either 
 end was already secured and the massacre began. The 
 only course open to Flaminius was to endeavour to 
 force a passage by Passignano. The main onslaught 
 was in the open ground at the foot of the hill upon 
 which the village of Tuoro now stands. Here was 
 fought the great and decisive battle of Lake Trasimene, 
 the result of which was an overwhelming disaster to 
 Rome. Flaminius lost no fewer than fifteen thousand 
 men and was himself killed, while only six thousand 
 Romans succeeded in forcing a way by Passignano, 
 and even these were compelled to surrender on the 
 following morning. 
 
 Such then is the interest that attaches to this bend 
 in the road, for it represents the entrance to the 
 deadly defile which sealed the fate of the Romans at 
 Trasimene. It is said that the waters of the lake were 
 discoloured with blood, and that the name Sanguineto 
 survives in memory of the fact. Plate 54 shows the 
 village of Tuoro as seen from the road, together with 
 the level ground in front of it, where raged the centre 
 of the battle. In the museum of the Palazzo Pretorio 
 at Cortona is a plan of the battlefield of Lake Trasi- 
 mene, drawn in 1794 by some enthusiast, who evi- 
 dently knew every foot of the ground and had 
 studied the inevitable disposition of the various troops 
 engaged. 
 
 Passignano, where the six thousand cut their way 
 
 through, is a little fisher town on the very edge of 
 
 i88
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 !3 
 o 
 
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 <: 
 
 N 
 
 J 
 U 
 
 c 
 
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 2 J= 
 
 CO 
 
 D 
 O 
 
 O 
 
 J 
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 Q 
 W 
 X 
 
 < 
 U 
 
 W 
 X 
 H 

 
 From Arezzo to Perugia 
 
 the lake. Indeed, it seems to be standing in the 
 water. It has about it the odour which is common 
 to all fisher towns, but it is none the less charming 
 on that account. On the hill above the town is a 
 great castle with a tower, both well stricken in years 
 and more or less ruinous, while at the water's edge, 
 among the reeds, are boats, nets hanging up to dry 
 and all the untidy belongings of the fisherman's 
 craft (Plate 53). 
 
 The road now follows the level shore of the lake 
 running among the olive groves, the little fields of 
 corn and the wonderful company of flowers which 
 here come down to the very water's edge. In some 
 places the poppies — the boldest of all flowers — seem 
 to have made their way even among the reeds which 
 make tremulous the margin of the mere. 
 
 Where the road leaves the lake to climb the 
 steep hill (which forms the side of the basin in which 
 Trasimene lies) is the hamlet of Torricella. Now, 
 Torricella is the next posting-station to Camoscia, 
 and is sixteen miles distant from that place. It is 
 the last post before Perugia. Curious to say, Torri- 
 cella is hard to find and can be very easily passed 
 by. The reason is this : in order to make the ascent 
 of the hill more easy a new road has been cut 
 along the hillside from the level of the lake to the 
 summit of the height which towers above it. It thus 
 comes to pass that a certain section of the old road 
 is left derelict, and on this deserted highway the little 
 village of Torricella is placed. So here is preserved, 
 as an ancient relic, a part of the original roadway, 
 unaltered and undisturbed, together with a humble 
 
 189
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 settlement which has escaped the progress of modern 
 times and has remained as it was long years ago. The 
 road is narrow and neglected, while Torricella, by the 
 world forgotten, is a dear old grandmotherly hamlet 
 of some half a dozen houses asleep by the margin of 
 the lake (Plate 55). But for one recently erected build- 
 ing all the houses in this isolated hamlet are of ancient 
 date, are small and humble, are roofed with fine tiles 
 and are shaded in odd corners by a fig tree or two, or 
 a rough pergola with a vine. In the centre of the 
 village, high up on a wall, and protected by a pent- 
 house with a heavily tiled roof, a great Madonna is 
 painted, while beneath this Our Lady of Torricella is 
 the date, MCCCCCI. 
 
 In 1501 Henry VII. was King of England, so, 
 although the inhabitants draw attention to the painting 
 with gushing pride, it is no matter of wonder that in 
 four hundred years the colours have become so faint, 
 and the Lady so indistinct, that there is little left to 
 admire but a grey shadow on a wall. 
 
 The posting-house where Pompilia and Caponsacchi 
 halted is still in existence, and is nearly as highly prized 
 as the picture of the Madonna. It is a long, low house 
 with just one bedroom floor, which is approached by a 
 stone stair of some pretensions. An archway of stone 
 leads to the posting stables, which could well accom- 
 modate fifty horses. A part of the stable is vaulted, 
 while the ceiling of the rest is made up of very heavy 
 beams. Over one of the doors is an ancient coat 
 of arms, and in the yard is an old well from which 
 many hundreds of horses have been watered (Plates 56 
 
 and 57). _ 
 
 190
 
 From Arezzo to Perugia , 
 
 But for the one modern house Torricella can have 
 altered little since Pompilia alighted in its tiny street. 
 There is no place along the whole route which can be 
 so vividly associated with her great adventure as this. 
 It only needs the calesse, with the two steaming horses, 
 to be drawn up before the post-house door to make 
 the picture complete. She and her friend must have 
 reached Torricella at about half-past eight in the morn- 
 ing. Here they would have breakfasted. I am sure 
 that, while the horses were being put in, Pompilia would 
 walk down to the water's edge to see the boats, would 
 chat shyly with the fisher-folk, and would pause for 
 long before the ancient picture of the Virgin. In one 
 part of the story, as told in "The Ring and the Book," 
 Pompilia, while the horses are being changed, talks 
 with a woman of the village, and nurses her baby for 
 a while. I think this must have taken place at Torricella. 
 
 The road now leaves the lake and, mounting up 
 the hill, reaches Monte Colognola, where are a ruined 
 castle and tower, and a tiny town, whence a view 
 of the lake is to be obtained that cannot be surpassed. 
 The next place on the way is Magione, a little white 
 and grey town on a lofty ridge. Here by the road- 
 side is a huge square fortress, which, by reason of its 
 grim walls, its machicolations, its towers and its heavy 
 buttresses is as truculent, as defiant and as villainous- 
 looking a stronghold as this country of wars, murders 
 and rapine can produce (Plate 58). The gentle Pompilia 
 must have shuddered as she passed beneath its shadow. 
 
 At Magione the road descends, and, passing through 
 a maze of low green hills, comes at last in sight of 
 Perugia. The view of the capital of Umbria from the 
 
 191
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'* 
 
 highway to the north is one of supreme fascination. On 
 a long ridge against the sky-line there stands the 
 amazing city, a dim fabric of yellow-grey stone on 
 a blue-grey hill, a fabric so insubstantial, so delicate, 
 so elaborate in the fashioning of its crest of tiny 
 bell-towers, spires and battlements, that — from afar off — 
 it looks like a piece of silversmith's handiwork (Plate 60). 
 
 192
 
 ^aiJh-.'i^rfi 
 
 74._TREVI, FROM THE HIGH ROAD.
 
 3. FROM PERUGIA TO FOLIGNO BY ASSISI 
 
 CAPONSACCHI and his charge must have arrived 
 at Perugia about noon. The journey of thirteen 
 miles from Torricella would have carried them 
 through a country of great charm, while the reaching of 
 Perugia would mark the first important stage in their 
 flight. They were now forty-six miles from Arezzo, 
 and a little more than twice that distance from Rome. 
 They would probably not drive through the city, but 
 would skirt it on its southern side, for Perugia stands 
 nearly one thousand feet above the Tiber valley, and 
 the climb up to its terrific walls is very steep. One 
 may suppose that Caponsacchi would talk a great deal 
 about this famous town, that Pompilia would revive in 
 the sunshine, and that the w^onders around her would 
 help her to forget that dreadful house in Arezzo, and 
 the frowning figure of Guido biting his beard. 
 
 The very ancient city of Perugia is one of the 
 most fascinating in Italy. It has altered so little that it 
 is still a mediaeval town. The houses, all of great 
 height, are huddled together along the summit and slopes 
 of the ridge in a confused and unsteady mass, like a 
 crowd of drunken men drowsily shouldering one another. 
 The streets are narrow, tortuous, dark and bewildering. 
 A lane paved with steep steps will leave the sunshine 
 on the hilltop, and will plunge down into the gloom of 
 night among this thicket of old houses. It will shrink to 
 N 193
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 a mere fissure between two towering walls ; it will tunnel 
 
 a cavernous passage beneath a mass of dwellings ; it will 
 
 essay to mount the hill again, will emerge for a moment 
 
 in the light, and will then once more slink down the slope 
 
 into darkness. To look up at the sky is like looking 
 
 up from the bottom of a well. One is possessed by 
 
 the idea that it is the back of every house that is turned 
 
 to the lane and yet the front is undiscoverable. The 
 
 houses blend into a disordered fabric of brick and stone, 
 
 so that it is hard to tell where one begins or the other 
 
 ends. The doors, for the most part, are as heavy as the 
 
 portals of a prison. Many entries are very secretive, 
 
 being approached slyly by unexpected steps and a sinister 
 
 archway (Plate 62). The whole warren of houses is 
 
 suspicious, wily, oppressive and fear-compelling. 
 
 The past history of Perugia is hideous and revolting. 
 
 Its annals are concerned with endless fighting, with 
 
 deadly feuds, with sickening acts of revenge, with base 
 
 treachery, murder and rapine. At one period there 
 
 was scarcely a day when the clash of steel was not to 
 
 be heard in the open square, scarcely a night the awed 
 
 silence of which was not broken by the shriek of a 
 
 man stabbed to the heart, or by some sudden and 
 
 horrible alarm. He who mounted the steep, paveii^-— 
 
 alley by the light of the dawn was likely to come upon 
 
 a trickle of blood and, following it round a corner 
 
 or two, stumble over the body of a friend lying head 
 
 downwards on the slope. Children playing about the 
 
 purlieus of a palace might be startled to see a faint 
 
 hand stretched out between the bars of a dungeon 
 
 window. 
 
 And yet, in the midst of all this, Perugino painted 
 
 194
 
 % r ^ ir.-^i ,3' n ^^ i^-^r^ 
 
 75.— POSTING-ROAD MAP FROM FOLIGNO 
 TO ROME BY CASTELNUOVO. 
 
 From ''/.a I'l-ra i'tiilda f>cr chi l'ias;s;ia in Italia," Rome, 1787,
 
 From Perugia to Follgno by Assisi 
 
 his Madonnas and his saints, while young Raphael, 
 palette in hand, dreamed in his master's studio. In the 
 chief piazza of the town stands that most exquisite achieve- 
 ment of art, the fountain of Niccolo Pisano (Plate 61). 
 The little figures that decorate its panels of stone he 
 fashioned in the year 1280 — over six centuries ago — 
 when Edward I. was King of England. It was around 
 this fountain that most of the fighting took place, and 
 one wonders how many stricken men have bathed their 
 wounds in its clear pool, and how often a cup of water 
 has been dipped from its basin to allay the thirst of a 
 dying man. 
 
 One thing in Perugia can never be forgotten, the 
 twittering of the thousands of swallows that dart in 
 the air, above the streets, around the towers and through 
 the purple deep beyond the walls ; a keen, whistling 
 sound it is, as of an articulate wind, very wonderful to 
 hear. So loud is the noise that one can understand 
 how it was that at Savurniano, St. Francis of Assisi 
 told the swallows to cease their twittering, in order 
 that the people might better hear him as he preached. 
 
 The ridge on which Perugia stands ends abruptly 
 towards the south, while from the point extends one 
 of the most glorious views to be seen from any height 
 in Umbria. Two plains of immense expanse diverge 
 from the foot of the hill, the one that sweeps away to 
 the right is the Tiber valley, the one to the left is the 
 great Umbrian plain, on the fringe of which are Assisi, 
 Spello and Foligno, the same being all clearly visible 
 from the terrace of the city. Assisi, on the slope of 
 Mount Subasio, looks like a brown mat on a green 
 bank ; Spello appears as a talus of stones at the hill- 
 
 195
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 foot, and Foligno — in the far distance — as a bare, grey 
 patch on the edge of the level plain. Beyond the 
 plains, and interposed between the two, are innumerable 
 hills that roll away south, east and west, to the horizon. 
 
 Now a little way beyond Perugia — some four miles, it 
 may be — the two travellers in the calesse would meet with 
 a very interesting object, the old Bridge of San Giovanni 
 over the Tiber (Plate 63). This is a huge, hulking, 
 hunchbacked bridge with six arches, built of rugged 
 stone. It is a masterful bridge, and so very old that, 
 compared with the modern viaduct, it looks like an ante- 
 diluvian monster stalking across the river. The roadway 
 is narrow and mounts upwards to the top of the central 
 arch, so that the traveller is tempted to rest when he 
 comes to this summit. One may be sure that Pompilia 
 and the priest halted here for a moment. This would 
 be their first glimpse of the Tiber, the river the lady 
 knew so well. The sight would strengthen their hearts 
 and give them hope. The stream was hurrying on its 
 w^ay to Rome. To Pompilia it would appear to be 
 almost a part of the beloved city, and she would long 
 to be wafted on its surface to her journey's end. The 
 Tiber here is a beautiful river as it takes a bold sweep 
 between wooded banks (Plate 64). It is wide and shallow, 
 and even at this stage of lusty youth has acquired that 
 wan, putty colour that marks it as it flows beneath the 
 bridges of Rome. From the top of the bridge, looking 
 south, is a fine view of Monte Subasio, w^hich seems, 
 from this point, to fill the horizon and block the way 
 Romewards. 
 
 A little way beyond the bridge the great Umbrian 
 plain, or Plain of Foligno, breaks into view. It is a 
 
 196
 
 From Perugia to Follgno by Assisi 
 
 level stretch of land between a world of hills, a plain 
 which ends in a cul-de-sac at Spoleto, thirty-three miles 
 to the southwards. The width of this great flat varies, 
 being about seven miles across if measured from Assisi, 
 and some three and a half miles wide if measured from 
 hill to hill at the foot of Trevi. This plain is very green, 
 since every foot of it is cultivated. It is one vast vine- 
 yard from end to end, for it must encompass some two 
 hundred square miles of vines. The vines are supported 
 upon crippled, crutch-like trees, and swing in festoons 
 from branch to branch. Besides the vines are fruit 
 trees of many kinds, olives, and, near the villages and 
 towns, ornamental trees grown for the pure pleasure 
 they give. Between and beneath the vines the land 
 is tilled in formal plots. The crops are of infinite 
 variety — corn, peas, beans, lentils and clover. Viewed 
 from a height, as from the top of Assisi, the plain is 
 made glorious by its immensity, by its gradations of 
 green, by the beauty of the far-ofif hills. It is at the 
 same time, like the plain about Arezzo, monotonous, 
 while the division of the land into precise plots gives 
 it a little the appearance of a limitless allotment 
 garden. There is one thing that stands up above the 
 level of the plain, one solitary object in the vast stretch 
 of thirty miles of green : it is the mighty dome of the 
 Church of Saint Mary of the Angels, which shelters 
 the little house in which St. Francis lived and the cell 
 in which he died. Caponsacchi and Pompilia would 
 catch sight of it very soon after they had crossed the 
 Tiber, for it stands in the way like a pillar of cloud. 
 Many travellers coming towards Rome from the 
 
 north have fallen into ecstasies over the Plain of 
 
 197
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Foligno. I need quote but from one of them. The 
 Earl of Perth was making for Rome early in May in 
 1695, just two years almost to the week before Pompilia 
 passed along the very road. He says that the plain 
 "lookt like a bason of flowers and greens; one's fancy 
 cannot exceed the beauty of this delightful valley, and 
 no spot of ground can be more rich ... no description 
 in a romance comes near to the verity here."* He 
 says that "the hills were covered with mirtles, laurell, 
 bays, lavender, cotton, hysop, pennyroyal, suthernwood," 
 and speaks of the clover, the olives, the apple and cherry 
 trees that he came upon in "this Paradise." 
 
 Some few miles beyond the Ponte San Giovanni the 
 road crosses the Chiascio, or Chiaggio, by a picturesque 
 old yellow bridge (Plate 65), and, passing through the 
 wholly uneventful town of Bastia, reaches to the posting- 
 house by Santa Maria degli Angeli, just eleven and a 
 quarter miles beyond Perugia. The two fugitives would 
 draw up at Saint Mary of the Angels about three in the 
 afternoon, and, great as was their haste, it may be assumed 
 that it was at this holy and romantic spot that they 
 tarried the longest. They were at the foot of Assisi 
 and in the very heart of St. Francis's country. Many 
 and many a time had he and his companions walked 
 along the particular road that the two had traversed, 
 talking together and singing and muttering their prayers. 
 It was while journeying by this way from Perugia that 
 St. Francis explained to Brother Leo, whom he always 
 addressed as " thou little sheep of God," what was 
 perfect joy, and how it could be found even if the seeker 
 were struck with a knotty stick and, indeed, beaten "with 
 
 * "Letters of James, Earl of Perth." London, Camden Society, 1845, p. 74. 
 
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 From Perugia to Foligno by Assisi 
 
 all the knots of that stick." Caponsacchi had, without 
 
 doubt, read the " Fioretti," and possibly knew much of 
 
 it by heart. He would tell the little countess about 
 
 Brother Anthony, "that marvellous vessel of the Holy 
 
 Spirit " ; of Brother Juniper, " a man of deep humility," 
 
 who had unwonted power over demons, and yet who 
 
 played at see-saw in order to abase himself; of "the 
 
 seraphic and god-like Brother Giles," who at one time 
 
 entertained the King of France ; and of the saint's 
 
 special companion. Brother Bernard, who on occasion 
 
 stood rapt in God, with gaze fast fixed, from morning 
 
 until nones. Perhaps he would tell of that disciple of 
 
 St. Francis, named John of the Chapel, "who fell 
 
 away and finally hanged himself by the neck." Possibly 
 
 he would point out to her the spot across the plain 
 
 where stood Bevagna, and where it was that St. Francis 
 
 preached to "his little sisters the birds," and warned 
 
 them solemnly to beware of the sin of ingratitude. 
 
 Certain it is that he would tell her that the country around 
 
 was once covered with woods, and that in these woods 
 
 St. Francis and his companions saw visions, spoke with 
 
 God, and gazed with unblinking eyes upon the radiant 
 
 face of the Madonna. He would tell how St. Clare came 
 
 down from the Convent of San Damiano in Assisi to 
 
 break bread with St. Francis at Saint Mary of the Angels, 
 
 and how they were so fervent in their discourse that 
 
 the people who lived on the hillside were amazed to 
 
 see the house of St. Francis and the wood just hard by 
 
 the house lit up with a wondrous light as if illumined 
 
 by the glow of a great fire. 
 
 Close to the spot where Pompilia halted with her 
 
 friend there stands the magnificent Church of St. Mary 
 
 199
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 of the Angels. It will be safe to assume that, while 
 fresh horses were being harnessed to the carriage, the 
 lady and the priest would make their way to the 
 church and would kneel together before the altar to 
 offer up a hurried prayer for the safe ending of their 
 journey. This church, described as "one of the finest 
 churches in the world," is of immense size, being no 
 less than 420 feet in length. It is surmounted by a dome 
 that rises to 258 feet above the pavement, while even 
 the great door is twenty-seven feet in height from 
 floor to architrave. The first stone of the church was 
 laid in 1569, and seventy years passed by before the 
 building was completed. Although it was greatly 
 damaged in the earthquake of 1832, it was restored, 
 and is to-day just such a church as it was when Pompilia 
 passed by on her way to Rome (Plate 66). 
 
 It may be wondered why a basilica so immense as 
 to exceed in size many famous cathedrals should have 
 been erected in a trivial hamlet in a vast plain. It 
 was not founded to the glory of Our Lady of the 
 Vineyards, as might be surmised, but was built to 
 provide a shelter for a little stone house, as humble as 
 a hut, and called " the Portiuncula." 
 
 The history of the Portiuncula is very simple. When 
 St. Francis, about the year 1208, resolved to forswear 
 a life of luxury and pleasure, and to assume the garb 
 of a monk and the burden of poverty, this little house 
 was a wayside chapel falling into ruin. St. Francis 
 obtained leave to take care of it. He built it up with 
 his own hands. Here he lived ; here he founded the 
 great Orders of the Franciscans and the Poor Clares, 
 and here, in a cell near by, he died. The house is 
 
 200
 
 From Perugia to Foligno by Assisi 
 
 said to have been originally erected in the forest by 
 four poor hermits. St. Francis called it "the Portiun- 
 cula," or " Little Portion," as being the little portion 
 of the world that God had assigned to him. 
 
 The Portiuncula stands now in the centre of the 
 nave, under the glorious cupola. It is a little brown 
 building, some twenty feet long by thirteen feet wide, 
 as plain as a stable. It is the extreme simplicity of 
 the house when compared to the magnificence of the 
 basilica built over it that makes it one of the most 
 impressive religious relics in the world. The two ends 
 of the building are marred by unfitting decoration and 
 frescoes. At each end is a rounded doorway, added 
 since the time of St. Francis, for the convenience of 
 pilgrims. 
 
 The sides of the little house are left untouched, are 
 
 almost pitifully plain, and yet the artlessness of these 
 
 walls possesses a grandeur to which the immense fabric 
 
 round about them can make little pretence. On one 
 
 side of the chapel is the original door, small and 
 
 crude, through which St. Francis and his companions 
 
 and the devoted St. Clare must often have passed. In 
 
 the wall, too, is a tiny lancet window of sublime 
 
 humility which once lit the little sanctuary. Within 
 
 the house is the altar upon which were laid the tresses 
 
 of bright hair cut by St. Francis from the pretty head 
 
 of Clara Scifi on that Palm Sunday when she knelt in 
 
 the Portiuncula and renounced the world. Near the 
 
 shrine is the cell where St. Francis died, where he 
 
 dictated his last wishes, and where he begged Brother 
 
 Leo and Brother Angelo to sing to him, as he passed 
 
 away, the Canticle of the Sun. 
 
 20 1
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Just outside the church is the rose garden that St. 
 Francis planted, where still grow the famous pink 
 roses that have no thorns. The bushes would be in 
 full bud when Pompilia came to St. Mary of the Angels, 
 for they blossom in May. 
 
 High up above the road and opposite to the Church 
 of Santa Maria degli Angeli is Assisi, where lie the 
 bodies of St. Francis and St. Clare. The town is 
 grandly placed on the steep end of a ridge at the foot 
 of Monte Subasio. On a mound at the very summit 
 of the town is the old fortress. To the left are Santa 
 Croce and the immense Franciscan monastery. To the 
 right are the Chiesa Nuova, built on the site of the 
 house where St. Francis was born, the Cathedral of 
 San Rufino and Santa Chiara, the mother house of the 
 Poor Clares ; while some way down the hillside is the 
 unassuming Convent of San Damiano, where St. Clare 
 spent her life and where she died (Plates 67 and 68). 
 
 One object of especial interest in the hamlet of 
 Santa Maria degli Angeli is the old posting-house of 
 the place. It stands on a fragment of the ancient 
 highway, for at this point the road has been diverted 
 from its original course. The post-house can have 
 altered little since the calesse, with the couple from 
 Arezzo, halted there in the spring of 1697. It is a 
 very old house, sadly decayed, possessed of an out- 
 side stair and of two storeys besides the ground floor. 
 Attached to it are the vast posting-stables. They are 
 solidly built, are vaulted like the crypt of a church 
 and are capable of standing a hundred horses. So 
 substantially fashioned is this part of the inn that it 
 remained unmoved in the great earthquake of 1832, 
 
 202
 
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 From Perugia to Follgno by Assisi 
 
 and was the place where the people of the village 
 took refuge at the time of that disaster. On one of 
 the pillars of the stable is an ancient fresco said to 
 represent St. Anthony. In a walled garden, just out- 
 side the building, stands a picturesque well of great 
 age with an arrangement for the supplying of water 
 to the stables within. This posting-house is as in- 
 teresting as the one at Torricella, for, like that silent 
 world-forgotten hostelry, it presents an untouched pic- 
 ture of the road and of the houses by the wayside at 
 the time of the story (Plate 69). 
 
 From this post-inn to the next halting place at 
 Foligno is a distance of 9f miles. The road continues 
 the same. To the left are the everlasting hills and the 
 wan olive trees ; to the right are the never-ending vines, 
 the young corn, the bean fields and the poppies. 
 When Goethe made his journey to Rome something 
 went amiss with the carriage when he reached this 
 part of the way, so he started ahead on foot and 
 walked from Assisi to Foligno. It was a walk that 
 deeply impressed him, for he says it was " one of the 
 most beautiful I ever took." Possibly what charmed 
 him most was a curious town he would have passed 
 on the way. This is the bold little town of Spello, 
 which occupies a dome-shaped hill at the foot of the 
 mountains, and looks, from afar ofif, like a rounded 
 heap of grey stones (Plates 70 and 71). 
 
 Although Spello has but few inhabitants it has all 
 the assurance of the capital of a State. It is gallantly 
 fortified, being girt about by a strong wall, on which 
 are many towers ready to be manned by an army 
 of warriors. This self-confident wall is perfectly at 
 
 203
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 ease, whether balanced on the edge of a precipice 
 or cUnging to the side of a headlong slope. There is 
 a city gate of much dignity, fitting for the passage of a 
 haughty cavalcade, a city tower for the warder and 
 a perilous look-out of stone for the watchman. Above 
 the entry into Spello are three statues of illustrious 
 personages, to whom the city is pleased to do honour. 
 At the top of a street as steep as a roof is a noble 
 cathedral, four centuries old, wherein are choice paint- 
 ings, carvings and frescoes, such as are appropriate to 
 any duly famous basilica. Besides this great edifice 
 there is the Church of St. Andrea, where is an altar- 
 piece painted by Pinturicchio. No doubt Spello has 
 its prefect and its council, its council chamber and its 
 court of justice, from which it thunders forth the man- 
 dates of the law; anyhow, it has its city palace, adorned 
 with Roman inscriptions and other insignia of extreme 
 age. And yet, with all this, it is scarcely more than 
 a village. 
 
 It is, indeed, a little cockerel of a town, crowing 
 on the top of its stone heap ; a toy town such as a 
 monarch would give to a petted princelet for a play- 
 thing ; a miniature city of Troy deporting itself with 
 unsurpassable assurance — and yet, above all, a rare and 
 lovable little place. There is nothing about Spello that 
 is modern. It is a fragment of the Middle Ages, an 
 unspoiled model of the town that was. It is a dream- 
 compelling place, full of charm and picturesqueness to 
 the remotest nook of its hazardous byways. 
 
 The Via Flaminia does not pass through the town ; 
 for, indeed, the climbing of the hill and the descent of 
 the same would daunt the heart of the bravest post- 
 204
 
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 From Perugia to Foligno by Assisi 
 
 horse. But it passes close beneath the city wall and in 
 front of the city gate ; so that Pompilia, as she rode by, 
 could hardly have failed to peep through the archway 
 and to have wondered into what kind of curious town 
 the cobbled street was leading, for to look through the 
 gate of Spello is to look through a door leading into 
 the past. 
 
 A few miles beyond Spello, by the same level road 
 and through the same vast vineyards, the town of 
 Foligno is reached. It is a large place possessed, as 
 the guide books say, of "various industries and an 
 episcopal residence." As the hills have at this spot 
 retired a little to the east, Foligno is left alone and 
 unsheltered in the vast flat plain. 
 
 Pompilia and Caponsacchi would reach Foligno 
 about six in the evening. Those who wished them ill 
 declared that they spent the night in the town ; but not 
 one item of evidence was ever forthcoming to support 
 this statement. Moreover, the speed at which they were 
 travelling, as shown by the hour when Castelnuovo was 
 reached, would render any but the briefest halt at any 
 place on the journey quite impossible. Foligno is a 
 walled city, and on its northern side a stream runs 
 outside the town, at the foot of the wall. There is, 
 therefore, a bridge to cross and a gate to enter for all who 
 would pass into the town. The bridge and the gate both 
 stand, but it is evident they have been much restored since 
 Pompilia passed into Foligno by this road from Assisi 
 (Plate 72). The gate, even if not very ancient, is still 
 solemnly closed at ten of the night. As the two made 
 their way through the town to the southern entry they 
 
 would cross the market square and pass the beautiful 
 
 205
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Cathedral of San Feliziano, the exquisite fagade of which 
 dates from the year 1201. Pompilia would notice by 
 the sides of the central door two crouching lions, very 
 like the two that wait outside her own particular Church 
 of San Lorenzo in Lucina in Rome (Plate 73). Of the 
 post-house at which they changed horses I can find no 
 trace. It probably stood on the site of the present 
 Albergo della Posta, which is without doubt the most 
 excellent hotel between Perugia and Rome. 
 
 Those who are familiar with Raphael's "Madonna 
 of Foligno " in the Vatican, famous for its fine figure of 
 St. Francis of Assisi, will find the Foligno of to-day in 
 no way like the fantastic town which forms the back- 
 ground of this gracious painting. Foligno of the present 
 day is a clean, bustling, pleasant town, picturesque 
 and full of interest. It contains several palaces and 
 numerous ancient houses of infinite charm. There is, 
 moreover, that most venerable and archaic Church of 
 Santa Maria infra Portas, with its eighth century porch, 
 its frescoes by Niccolo da Foligno, who died in 1502, 
 and its still more ancient Byzantine wall paintings. 
 As the two runaways crossed the piazza the driver, if 
 as loquacious then as are drivers now, may have pointed 
 out the Palazzo del Governo, which was held by the 
 Trinci as far back as 1398, and have told them that the 
 little chapel on the upper floor contained frescoes by 
 Ottaviano Nelli, painted in 1424, to illustrate the history 
 of the Virgin. 
 
 2o6
 
 4. THE JOURNEY ACROSS THE HILLS AND BEYOND TO 
 
 CASTELNUOVO 
 
 AFTER leaving Foligno the two in the calesse 
 would enter upon the most weary and most 
 difficult part of their enterprise — the journey by 
 night across the hills to the uplands which overlook the 
 Campagna of Rome. The great Umbrian plain which 
 Pompilia and her companion were traversing ends at 
 Spoleto, where it is shut in by a rampart of hills drawn 
 defiantly across the road. From Foligno to Spoleto is a 
 distance of seventeen miles, the highway is level and the 
 aspect of the country the same as that of the rest of 
 the long valley. Between the two towns is the posting- 
 station of Le Vene. 
 
 Some five or six miles from Foligno is the astonishing 
 town of Trevi — a cairn-like landmark in the southern 
 end of the plain (Plate 74). It stands some way to the 
 left of the road, a steep, conical mound, shaped like a 
 pierrot's hat, and covered with houses from top to 
 bottom. Life on this hill of Sisyphus must be hard, for 
 the citizens of Trevi are always either climbing up or 
 sidling down. They might as well be living on a stone 
 stairway, and one may suppose that they would experi- 
 ence actual confusion whenever they found themselves 
 on a level road. It is quite appropriate that the chief 
 church in Trevi should be sacred to Our Lady of 
 Tears. The mount, however, is picturesque, as would 
 
 207
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 be any pyramid-shaped town, where the front door 
 of each house is on the level of some neighbour's 
 roof. 
 
 A few miles beyond Trevi is the trifling hamlet of 
 Le Vene, where was an old posting-station. At this 
 point there is, by the roadside, a beautiful pool of 
 water, shaded by trees and surrounded by an informal 
 garden, very delightful to look upon. Here is the source 
 of the Clitumnus, made famous by Pliny and feebly 
 sung about by Byron. 
 
 Before Spoleto is reached the road passes through 
 the peculiar town of San Giacomo — peculiar in the 
 determined character of its defences and its effort to 
 take care of itself. San Giacomo would appear to have 
 been a city of the plain which was liable to be raided 
 any day in the year and to be roused hideously any 
 night by fearful alarms. Some part of the town is 
 lodged within a species of brigand-proof safe, in the 
 form of a square castle, the inside of which is packed 
 with crowded dwellings and the very narrowest of 
 streets. 
 
 Spoleto, as seen from the plain, especially about the 
 time of the setting of the sun, affords a gorgeous presen- 
 tation of a town. The hills end in a sudden line, like a 
 breaking comber on a beach. On the crest and slopes of 
 the foremost height is reared Spoleto (Plates 76 and 79). 
 The town forms a great bastion barring the way. It stands 
 erect, a pile of vast houses, of massive walls, of steeples 
 and towers, with, on the summit, an ancient and im- 
 perious fortress known as La Rocca. The straight white 
 road, issuing from among its vineyards, is swallowed up 
 by the city, while beyond there would appear to be no 
 
 208
 
 79.— A STREET IN SPOLETO. 
 
 30.— THE CASTLE ABOVE STRETTURA
 
 The Journey Across the Hills to Castelnuovo 
 
 way out through the intricate barrier of the mountains. 
 Of the charm of Spoleto it is needless to speak. The 
 traveller knows well its palaces, its gates, its churches, 
 its mysterious streets, its wily alle)^s and the supreme 
 view from the city wall, which embraces the whole of 
 the plain as far away as Perugia. 
 
 It would be nearly midnight when Pompilia arrived 
 at Spoleto. If she paused to think, she would find it 
 hard to believe that only twenty-four hours had passed 
 since she was dressing herself in the dark in her hated 
 room at Arezzo, was collecting her few treasures, tying 
 up her money in a handkerchief, and about to venture, 
 breathless with terror, upon the perilous descent of the 
 creaking stair that led to the palace door. 
 
 Now would commence, at the blackest depth of the 
 night, the journey across the hills to Terni, a distance 
 of sixteen miles, with scarcely a habitation to be met 
 with the whole way through, except at the little posting- 
 village of Strettura. The road, which is most fascinating 
 in the daylight, may well be almost terrifying in the 
 dark. No part of the route from Arezzo to Rome 
 is more beautiful than this long mountain pass, unless 
 it be the road that skirts the Lake of Trasimene. 
 
 The highway for miles mounts up and up, winding 
 from valley to valley, between hills so closely set that, 
 here and there, it seems as if the sky would be shut 
 out. The mountain slopes are at first covered with 
 olives, then, as the greater heights are reached, there 
 appear forests of ilex and of pine, with savage under- 
 growth and rugged boulders. The way may pass 
 through a rocky defile or a sullen ravine, or dip into a 
 
 gentle glade and then struggle to a hilltop, whence 
 o 209
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 is a view of a valley just traversed, with the road as a 
 broken thread of white in the gaps among the green 
 (Plate 77). 
 
 On nearing Strettura the carriage would cross a very 
 venerable bridge with a single arch (Plate 78). It is 
 humble enough and narrow enough, but it is ennobled 
 by a stately coat of arms, carved in stone, as well as by a 
 tedious inscription in Latin, made interesting by the date 
 with which the verbiage ends — the year 1577, In many 
 places, especially in the country of the bridge, the road 
 is steep — is, indeed, so dangerously steep that progress 
 by night must have been very slow. 
 
 Strettura would be reached about two in the morn- 
 ing — the morning of another day. This solitary village 
 is 8f miles from Spoleto. On the hill to the left of 
 it is a fine castle, more or less in ruins, and surrounded 
 by a wall of such solidity and resolution that the centuries 
 have left it almost untouched (Plate 80). Strettura consists 
 of a single, indefinite street, a number of most picturesque 
 old houses and a grandmotherly old church. As a vil- 
 lage it is very pretty, very dirty and as completely cut 
 ofif from the world as the most bitter misanthropist 
 could wish. The posting-house is a delightful and an- 
 cient building, with a romantic roofed gallery thrown 
 across the road, like a kind of rustic triumphal arch. 
 Possibly, in old days, this wooden gallery was a favourite 
 resort for persons of leisure, in the cool of the evening, 
 when they could lean over the rail and watch the car- 
 riages and pack-horses arrive or depart (Plate 81). 
 
 I think it would be at Strettura, at two o'clock in 
 the morning, in this dark maze among the hills and 
 after twenty-four hours of incessant haste, that Pompilia's 
 
 2IO
 
 The Journey Across the Hills to Castelnuovo 
 
 courage would be nearest to failing her and that she 
 would half repent of the step she had taken. 
 
 In a while the road begins definitely to descend. 
 Olive groves appear again on the slopes on either side 
 of the pass, the mountains open and the great Flaminian 
 Way glides down to the level plain of Terni. This 
 flat is of quite small extent, so that the hills very soon 
 come in the path again. Terni is at the present time 
 a manufacturing town of over 25,000 inhabitants. It is 
 probably of no more interest now than it was when 
 Pompilia passed by, although the old city wall and the 
 gate towers have some little charm about them. The 
 couple would reach Terni at 4.30 in the morning, and 
 as they crossed the narrow plain would see the dawn 
 break over the circle of hills with which they would 
 now be surrounded. 
 
 It is 7J miles on to Narni, through a green country, 
 cultivated and tended like a precious garden. At Narni 
 the hills begin once more. The fugitives would reach 
 the town at seven in the morning, with little thought 
 that by the same hour on the following day they 
 would find themselves lodged in jail, and would hear 
 Count Guido Franceschini stamping and swearing in 
 the courtyard outside their prison. 
 
 Narni is superbly situated on the brim of a pre- 
 cipitous ravine, at the foot of which the Nera forces its 
 way through the rocks to join the Tiber (Plate 82). The 
 sides of this terrific gorge are lined with evergreen trees, 
 mostly ilex, and with a dense bush. Narni clings, like 
 a martin's nest, to the brink of the clilif, and so far below 
 is the river that the sound of its waters is almost drowned 
 by the whistling of the swallows that dart and double 
 
 211
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 over the great chasm. It is a pretty, rambUng town, 
 with all its lanes in a confusing tangle, and a savage 
 castle dominant on its summit. It has a little piazza, 
 with a fountain in its centre, and a church and various 
 ancient buildings standing around it in sleepy admiration. 
 Possibly Pompilia and her friend saw little of this walled 
 city, for they would assuredly breakfast at Narni while 
 the horses were being changed (Plate 83). 
 
 The next stopping place is Otricoli, 8| miles away, 
 a short stage, but an arduous one, as the track is across 
 the hills. It is a beautiful road, never level for long, 
 commanding wide views on all sides, and plunging 
 the while through a country of olives and vines, of 
 growing corn and blossoming acacias and of hedge- 
 rows more brilliant with flowers possibly than any yet 
 encountered on the way. 
 
 Otricoli is an old walled town, situated on a height, 
 from which extends an amazing prospect across the 
 Tiber valley to the hills on the other side, where lies 
 hidden the town of Civita Castellana. From the 
 diaries of travellers of bygone days, it would appear 
 that Otricoli was a favourite stopping place, a place at 
 which to take dinner or to spend the night. This can 
 be no matter of wonder, for the exquisite little town 
 belongs wholly to the past, is curious and simple, while 
 the look-out from its walls is one not easily to be 
 forgotten. The view, shown in Plate 84 is taken from 
 the old posting-house of Otricoli, a crumbling, un- 
 steady building on arches, on the wall of which is still 
 to be seen a notice dealing with posting charges to 
 Narni. 
 
 Pompilia would reach Otricoli at 9.30 in the morning, 
 
 212
 
 81. — THE POSTING-HOUSK AT STRF:TTURA.
 
 The Journey Across the Hills to Castelnuovo 
 
 and, as the posting-inn is quite close to the edge 
 of the hill, it may be assumed that she walked to the 
 walls to rest her eyes upon the placid valley through 
 which the Tiber was lazily sweeping on its way to 
 Rome. 
 
 From Otricoli the road descends to the level bank 
 of the river, and here, some five or six miles beyond 
 Otricoli, the carriage would cross the Tiber for the 
 second time. The bridge which spans the river at this 
 spot is the famous Ponte Fehce, the " Happy Bridge." 
 This bridge is as old' as the Via Flaminia, but, in its 
 present form, dates only from 1589, when it was recon- 
 structed by Sixtus V. It is a handsome bridge, more 
 fitted, perhaps, for such a city as Rome than for an 
 almost uninhabited valley. It is of yellow brick and 
 time-worn stone, is somewhat ambitiously ornamented, 
 while in every cranny between the blocks of its masonry 
 some green weed or bush is growing (Plate 85). 
 
 Just beyond the Happy Bridge are the great tower 
 and castle of Borghetto, now in ruins, but still strong 
 enough, it may be, to command the road across the river, 
 which it has defended for so many centuries (Plate 86). 
 The guide books say little of this hoary stronghold 
 and nothing of the fights it has witnessed, nor of the 
 people who have died in its dungeons, nor of the hordes 
 of wild men who have rushed, in times of alarm, from 
 its sally-ports, yelling the battle-cry of Borghetto as they 
 poured down the slope to the bridge. 
 
 Possibly Pompilia, when she had reached as far as 
 this, was too weary to ask Caponsacchi to tell her 
 about the castle. She would only comfort herself 
 
 with the sleepy thought that they had crossed the 
 
 213
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Happy Bridge and were within thirty-three miles of 
 Rome. 
 
 The road, leaving the Tiber valley, now mounts 
 up the hill to Civita Castellana, the last town of any 
 size before Rome. The two runaways would arrive 
 at this ancient Etruscan city at about two o'clock in the 
 afternoon. Civita Castellana is situated on an isolated 
 plateau, with a huge ravine on either side (Plate 87). 
 This chasm that cuts Civita Castellana off from the rest 
 of Italy is very deep, very astonishing and supremely 
 beautiful. It is a sudden gash in the earth, as clean 
 cut as the slash of a hatchet. The brown-red cliffs 
 that form the walls of this terrific moat are perpen- 
 dicular, harsh and forbidding. The chasm itself, on 
 the other hand, is filled with trees and bushes of the 
 softest and daintiest green, while above the tree tops 
 floats a faint, blue mist haunted by swallows. The 
 ravine is most fascinating to see in the early spring, 
 about the time when Pompilia came this way; while 
 in the winter, as the day is waning, it is a black pit 
 horrible to look down into. To the south of the city 
 the ravine sinks away into a gentle valley, carrying 
 along with it the stream that encircles the plateau (Plate 
 89). If the traveller, when some distance on the road 
 to Rome, looks back by the way he has come, Civita 
 Castellana appears as a mass of brown rock rising out 
 of a green lagoon. 
 
 The town itself is a queer, obsolete place, once 
 wealthy and powerful, now poor, distraught and purpose- 
 less ; a city that the world has long forgotten (Plate 
 88). Its haughty palaces are now little more than superb 
 
 sepulchres for filth and for frowsy humanity ; fowls 
 
 214
 
 The Journey Across the Hills to Castelnuovo 
 
 march out into the street from beneath the arches of 
 elegantl}^ carved doorways ; a kerosene tin with a red 
 geranium in bloom occupies a balcony of the most 
 precious ironwork; whilst the outside stairs of stone, 
 the mysterious entries, the pillared logge, seem to 
 belong to the properties of some mediaeval stage play. 
 
 Civita Castellana has all the necessary elements of a 
 romantic Italian town — the untidy piazza with its drip- 
 ping fountain, the cathedral, still magnificent in spite of 
 its 700 years, the blind, fumbling lanes, the women 
 knitting in the shadows, and the heavy, insidious, 
 evil-suggesting smell. 
 
 From the south end of the town is a pleasant view 
 of Monte Soracte, which stands on the way between 
 Civita Castellana and Rome. This isolated hill, over 
 2,000 feet high, is very beautiful to contemplate at a 
 distance, when it looks like a purple cone rising out 
 of the plain ; but near at hand it is an exceedingly 
 harsh ridge of precipitous limestone, grey as a heap of 
 ashes and pitifully bare. On the summit of the height 
 are the little Church of San Silvestro and the ruins of 
 a shrivelled monastery. It would be a joy to Pompilia 
 to catch sight of Soracte again, for it is a mountain 
 that can be seen from the high lands about Rome 
 (Plates 90 and 91). 
 
 From Civita Castellana to Castelnuovo is a distance 
 of 13^- miles, with one posting-station on the way at a 
 small town called Rignano. Rignano is a straggling 
 place, lying in a hollow surrounded by olive trees. 
 The road merely skirts one end of the settlement, and 
 that the least ancient part of it (Plate 92). 
 
 In this portion of the Via Flaminia some remains 
 
 215
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'^ 
 
 of the old Roman highway are come upon, in the 
 form of large slabs of blue-grey stone, almost hidden 
 in the grass and flowers by the wayside. At one spot 
 the modern road turns a little aside from the ancient 
 track, and there, much overgrown, is seen the undis- 
 turbed road of the Consul Flaminius — a hard, narrow, 
 paved road, heading direct for Rome. This fragment 
 enables one to appreciate the observation of M. de 
 Brosses when he wrote of the Flaminian Way as "one 
 of the hardest antiquities that I am acquainted with." 
 
 The road between Civita Castellana and Castelnuovo 
 is uninteresting and monotonous, the country bare and 
 wild, and to a large extent treeless. On nearing 
 Castelnuovo it becomes a track across naked, inhospit- 
 able downs, a road so long, so wearisome, so un- 
 friendly that it must have preyed upon Pompilia's 
 spirits, must have intensified her fatigue to sheer 
 misery, and her yearning to rest and be still to an 
 overwhelming possession. She determined, in spite of 
 Caponsacchi's entreaties, to spend the night at Castel- 
 nuovo at any cost, to lie down and sleep at any risk, 
 although she was almost within sight of Rome and 
 within reach of safety. The last few miles of the road 
 had made the journey hideous ; the grinding of the 
 wheels on the stones had ground into her brain, and 
 the everlasting sound of the horses' feet had maddened 
 her beyond all peace. 
 
 Castelnuovo is so situated that on coming in from 
 the north nothing is to be seen of the town (which 
 lies some way to the left of the road) until the carriage 
 actually draws up at the door of the tragic inn, which 
 
 stands almost alone on the highway. 
 
 216
 
 2 
 
 < 
 2 
 
 00
 
 5. CASTELNUOVO 
 
 CASTELNUOVO, as already stated, lies some 
 little way to the left, or east, of the high road to 
 Rome. Indeed, the little town is separated 
 from that road by a deep valley filled with olive trees. 
 The highway at this part of its course runs along the 
 edge of a lofty plateau, which forms the western slope 
 of the valley. From this plateau a narrow ridge runs 
 out into the Campagna and, curving to the south, finds 
 itself almost parallel with the road. Along the top of 
 the ridge is the narrow by-way to Castelnuovo ; while 
 at the extremity of the ridge, where it becomes suddenly 
 precipitous, stands the small town, a pile of houses, 
 roof above roof. It is easy, when making for Rome, to 
 pass Castelnuovo without seeing it, especially if the 
 hedge by the side of the track is in leaf. But if the 
 traveller will stand on the Via Flaminia, just where is 
 the stone which marks twenty-six kilometres from Rome, 
 and if he will find a gap in the bushes, he will see, im- 
 mediately below him, a green valley, and across the 
 valley, on the blulT end of a long hill, the town he 
 seeks. 
 
 The position of Castelnuovo is most commanding, 
 for at its foot lies one of the northern reaches of 
 the Campagna, while from its walls extends, like the 
 flight of a bird, an unbroken view across the valley of 
 
 217
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 the Tiber and away seawards to the dim Alban Hills, 
 which rise to the south of Rome. The town, indeed, 
 is on a headland thrust out into the misty plain of the 
 Campagna. 
 
 As to what it looks like from the main road, no 
 better words can be used than those of de Brosses, when 
 speaking of Livorno : " Imagine a little pocket town, 
 pretty enough to put into one's snufifbox " — such 
 is Castelnuovo. It is a town that a toy-maker would 
 fashion, a hill town in miniature, a feature for a garden, 
 an exquisite small fabric of grey walls and yellow-green 
 roofs on a mound of olives. At the very summit of 
 the town is a huge square building. That is the 
 Pretura, where Caponsacchi and Pompilia were confined 
 after their arrest at the inn. To the left of it is the 
 church, with its old campanile. Around these two 
 buildings, on the steep sides of the hill, the town clings 
 (Plate 93). 
 
 Castelnuovo is a very ancient place, and possesses 
 at this present time some 1,500 inhabitants. The 
 houses, if old, are at least substantial, and there is not 
 a modern building in the place ; for since the last 
 post-chaise rumbled along the road Castelnuovo has 
 slept, and the busy world has left its slumbers un- 
 disturbed. When I first caught sight of the town 
 from the highway it might have been a city of the 
 dead, for the valley is very quiet, and the im- 
 pression remained until the silence was broken by 
 the shrill calling of children from among the houses 
 and by the sound of a drowsy bell in the church 
 tower. 
 
 Browning had evidently no personal knowledge of 
 
 218
 
 Castelnuovo 
 
 Castelnuovo. His description of the place is singularly 
 
 inapplicable, for he speaks of 
 
 " Castelnuovo's few mean, hut-like homes 
 Huddled together on the hill-foot bleak." 
 
 The editor of the last edition (1912) of "The Ring and 
 the Book" terms this ancient town a " hamlet" ; while in 
 the notes to Mr. Charles Hodell's version of the Yellow 
 Book it is spoken of as " a village of but a few houses." 
 The posting-inn at which Pompilia and the priest 
 alighted is on the main road, and, therefore, some small 
 distance from the actual town. It is an old building, 
 constructed very solidly of stone covered with plaster, and 
 possesses just one storey above the ground floor. That 
 part of the inn which faces the road is built on arches. 
 Within these arches is a cavernous shelter for carts. It 
 was here, no doubt, that the carriage was housed for 
 the night, while Pompilia slept in the upper room. 
 Embedded in the front wall, close by the arch of 
 entry, is an inscribed tablet (shown in Plate 94) dealing 
 with the Via Flaminia, and dated 1580. At one end 
 of the house is an outside chimney of exceptional size. 
 It belongs to the inn kitchen. The place, which is very 
 much larger than would appear from the road, is no longer 
 used as a tavern. On one wall is still to be seen, in 
 very faint letters, the words "Albergo della Posta " ; 
 but it must have been a long time since any travellers 
 drew up at the door. The house is now derelict and 
 empty, save for two small rooms on the upper floor, 
 which are occupied by a poor family. The building 
 is slowly falling into decay ; but so extremely sub- 
 stantial is it that Time, unaided and alone, will need 
 
 many years to bring about its dissolution. 
 
 319
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 The entry is by way of a small arched portal of 
 stone. This opens directly into the common room of 
 the inn, a large chamber with a paved floor and immense 
 beams in the ceiling. At one side is a spacious fire- 
 place, where, no doubt, a genial wood fire has burned 
 on many a winter's night, when travellers were expected 
 on the road. The heavy mantelpiece of stone is in 
 keeping with the house, which, in spite of its humble 
 exterior, is of no small pretensions within. The ancient 
 room is bare of furniture, and there is nothing to 
 suggest that it has altered in any essential since Pompilia 
 was led in from the carriage and sank exhausted upon 
 the first bench she could reach (Plate 95). 
 
 By the side of the fireplace is a much-worn stone 
 stair that no one would dispute has seen little change 
 for the last two hundred years and more. Its balustrade 
 is made of upright blocks of stone connected at the 
 top by an iron rail. After some ten steps a window 
 is reached, and here the stair turns to the right and 
 mounts upwards through a stone passage with a vaulted 
 roof. The passage recalls the narrow stair made in the 
 thickness of the wall of a mediaeval castle. This is the 
 only staircase in the house. Up these stone steps Pom- 
 pilia was helped to her room, or possibly, as the poem 
 says, was carried there in the arms of Caponsacchi. It 
 was up this very stair that Guido rushed to denounce 
 his wife, followed by the stumbling yokels who repre- 
 sented the law. 
 
 Now, if at no time before, are we in intimate touch 
 
 with the story. It is easy to picture this very room in the 
 
 early hours of that eventful morning. The room is still ; 
 
 the lamp on the mantelpiece has almost flickered out ; 
 
 220
 
 1 
 
 i^- 
 
 83.— A STREET IN NARNI.
 
 Castelnuovo 
 
 over a bench is thrown Pompilia's cloak ; at the foot 
 of the stair stands Caponsacchi Hstening eagerly for any 
 sound of movement in the room above, while at the 
 same time he watches the faint light of the dawn 
 grow in the window on the stair. He starts at a 
 sound that comes in through the open door, the sound 
 of footsteps in the road. He rushes out through the 
 archway and meets Count Guido face to face. 
 
 From the common room of the inn a passage leads 
 to the old dining-room, which possesses a cove ceiling 
 very crudely painted. Near by is the kitchen, which is 
 so archaic as to remind one of the kitchens in Pompeii, 
 for the stove is of stone. The kitchen, although small, 
 is evidently capable of providing for many, while the 
 baking oven is of untoward size. There are other 
 rooms on the ground floor, one of which has a rounded 
 roof ; all have enormously thick walls ; all are empty ; 
 in one place is a cupboard hollowed out of the very 
 substance of the wall. The windows look over the 
 valley and provide a fascinating view of the little toy 
 town of Castelnuovo. 
 
 There are several rooms upstairs, some large, some 
 small. They have brick floors, while the ceilings are 
 traversed by heavy beams. All are empty, except the 
 two already mentioned, and perhaps a third should 
 be included, because it is occupied by a hen and her 
 chickens. The better rooms, small as they are, open 
 on the road, while the chambers at the back look over 
 the valley and the town. It rests with any who wander 
 over this empty house to determine, to their own 
 satisfaction, in which room the little countess slept on 
 that ever-memorable night. There being nothing to 
 
 221
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 guide one in the selection, I would venture to choose 
 a certain room, capable of taking two beds, which has 
 a window on the highway. 
 
 This old Albergo della Posta stands at the point 
 where the by-way leads ofif to Castelnuovo. This by-way 
 is a pleasant road, especially in the early morning in 
 the spring. Probably it failed to impress the party of 
 people who walked along it shortly after sunrise on 
 Wednesday, May 1st, 1697. First of all, I think, 
 would walk Pompilia, sobbing gently to herself, her 
 little arm in the grip of a brawny officer of police, 
 while, in her other hand, she would hold the hand- 
 kerchief, damp with mopping her eyes, in the corner 
 of which she had tied up her money. Then would 
 come Caponsacchi, upright and defiant, still suffused 
 with rage, still maddened with indignation, firmly 
 bound with cords and held a prisoner between two 
 men proud of their importance. He would whisper 
 words of comfort from time to time for the ear of the 
 lady he had done his best to save. Next would pass 
 Guido, biting his beard and with so horrible a smile 
 on his face as to frighten the curious boys who trotted 
 by his side. Last of all w^ould be the deeply concerned 
 servant from the inn, carrying the goods that had been 
 found in the possession of the suspected couple, in- 
 cluding Pompilia's "little box with many trifles inside." 
 
 On the way they would pass a most engaging little 
 chapel, now old and lamentably decayed. It has a 
 pillared portico, a stolid door and a single window very 
 heavily barred. It has a small belfry too, from which 
 the Angelus might have rung while all these dreadful 
 things were in progress (Plate 96). 
 
 222
 
 Castelnuovo 
 
 Of all little towns between Florence and Rome with 
 which I am acquainted I think that Castelnuovo is the 
 most entrancing. I am aware that its association with 
 the Franceschini story has much to do with its attractive- 
 ness ; but, apart from this, it is so unspoiled, so entirely 
 a part of Old Italy, so infantile and inconsequent in its 
 planning, so ridiculous, that in comparison with a well- 
 reasoned resort of man it is a mere kitten of a town. 
 It has two piazze, but no streets. It has, indeed, no 
 need of streets, for so steep are the slopes of Castelnuovo 
 that a street would be merely a shoot down which 
 people would slide. It has lanes, but they are as erratic 
 as are the gambols of a kitten pursuing its own tail. 
 The lane will mount some stone stairs sideways for the 
 purpose of descending other stairs at a different angle ; 
 it will then turn upon itself and try to get back to 
 where it started from, will be demurely level for a 
 moment and will then fall out of the town, as if it had 
 slipped over a cliff (Plate 97). Through any gap in 
 the circuit of the place will be a view over the Cam- 
 pagna and Tiber valley on the one hand, or across the 
 beautiful country of hills and dales on the other, where 
 the dales are wooded and where the hills are green and 
 are tossed about over the land in exquisite disorder. 
 
 There are more corners in Castelnuovo, I believe, 
 than in any place of its size in the world. No town, 
 large or small, shows more indecision or less concep- 
 tion of what it wants or intends to do. No two 
 houses are alike, and none, except in one piazza, are 
 on the same level. In the other piazza the question 
 of level is dealt with by building one house on the 
 
 flat and the next on a mound, so that it has to be 
 
 223
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 approached by a stair. There is a particular dwelling, 
 designed by a genius in variation, which is reached 
 by a descent towards the bowels of the earth and an 
 entry, it would seem, through the cellar. 
 
 In spite of these distractions, which would drive 
 a surveyor to madness, Castelnuovo is bright, cheerful, 
 contented and clean. It is certainly a town and also 
 a maze ; but it is in addition a poultry farm. For 
 rambling in the lanes are numerous fluffy chickens 
 with red, green or blue ribbons tied round their necks 
 to show to whom they belong. A crippled person 
 would not live long in Castelnuovo, while the fre- 
 quenter of taverns, who wandered about at night, 
 would either find himself repeatedly at the place he 
 started from, or would fall of^ the town into the 
 valley and be lost. 
 
 The visitor to Castelnuovo attains very suddenly to 
 the heart of the town. A step or two from the open 
 country, and he stands in the Piazza del Duomo, or 
 Cathedral Square, which is to Castelnuovo what 
 Trafalgar Square is to London. It is into this square 
 that the two prisoners would be led from the inn. 
 The piazza is small, prim and neat. On one side is 
 the church. It has been recently rebuilt and is a poor 
 affair, tawdry and garish ; but the campanile of Roman 
 brick is very old and dignified, and might remind 
 Caponsacchi a little of the superb bell tower of his own 
 Church of Santa Maria della Pieve. On another side 
 of the square is a large ancient building, very vague 
 and curious. It has a massive outside stair of stone, 
 beneath which is an archway. It is surmounted by a 
 belfry and a little cross. It must have been a monastic 
 
 224
 
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 Castelnuovo 
 
 house of some kind, but it is now apparently empty 
 as regards its upper regions. On the ground it accom- 
 modates, in very picturesque and casual fashion, the 
 shops of Castelnuovo — the grocer's shop, the charcoal 
 dealer's, the leatherseller's shop, the pork shop and 
 the cafe (Plate 98). 
 
 On a third side of the piazza is an amazing brick 
 wall of such aggressive height and substance that it 
 overwhelms the tiny square. It is a wall some centuries 
 old, the warm, ruddy colour of which is in contrast 
 with the green weeds and tufts of green bush which 
 spring from every cranny. Early in May these strangely 
 placed plants are covered with yellow flowers. The 
 wall is so vast that it might form the base of a 
 Tower of Babel, a conception which is assisted by 
 the fact that on the face of the wall, and cut out of 
 its thickness, is a zigzag stone stair, such as is shown 
 in pictures of the tower in children's books on Bible 
 history. 
 
 The stone stair leads to an immense building of 
 hoary brick, situated on the top of the wall. This is 
 the Pretura, a fact made evident by a shield on the 
 wall presenting the arms of Italy and the words : 
 " R. Pretura. Castelnuovo di Porto" (Plate 99). It 
 was here that Pompilia and the priest were imprisoned. 
 At each end of the building, which is three storeys 
 in height, is a species of tower, giving the whole 
 fabric the appearance of a fortress. The windows are 
 square and would seem to have been enlarged and 
 modernised. On a side wall of this ponderous build- 
 ing is a coat of arms in stone, representing three 
 bees. This is the shield of the Barberini, one member 
 
 P 22^
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 of which family was Pope between the years 1623 and 
 1644. 
 
 The stone stair leading up to the Pretura is very 
 interesting, because up this identical stair Pompilia 
 must have been conducted on her way to prison, since 
 there is no other means of access to the building. 
 The upper flight of the stair has been renovated, but 
 the lower part (that shown in Plate 100) is in its original 
 condition, being paved with cobble stones so worn that 
 the present steps must have been old even in Pompilia's 
 time. 
 
 The door of the Pretura is of some standing, for 
 the wood of it has almost perished. It leads into an 
 open courtyard, deep as a pit, which is assuredly of 
 greater antiquity than the front of the building. In 
 the centre is a well, with an uncouth wooden structure 
 over it for the pulling up of the bucket. The water 
 in the well is evidently not entirely trusted, for at 
 the moment of entering the Pretura, a handsome girl, 
 carrying a copper water urn on her head, crossed the 
 court with stately carriage and passed the well by as 
 anathema. 
 
 Some parts of the interior of the Pretura are very 
 ancient, for here stood a castle of the Colonnas, and 
 many remains of that stronghold still exist. The most 
 interesting of these is a tiny chapel, or oratory, in the 
 centre of the building. It is little more than a cell, 
 has a groined roof of stone, a paved floor and one 
 small window. It is now used as a bedroom, and a 
 very minute bedroom it makes. Painted on a wall is 
 a most archaic Madonna and Child— a mere yellow 
 shadow of a picture. Of the great age of the work there 
 
 2ib
 
 Castelnuovo 
 
 can be no doubt. The warder of the Pretura stated 
 that it was executed by Barna, a painter, I find, who 
 died in 1381. The Uttle oratory itself would appear to 
 be of an earlier date than this, but of the history of 
 the castle I can find no account. 
 
 From the open courtyard where the well stands, 
 a stone stair leads up to a public hall, large, dim and 
 empty. Into this hall Pompilia and Caponsacchi would 
 be brought, and here they would wait the pleasure 
 of the representative of the law. This common hall is 
 of little interest, but leading out of it by a few steps 
 is the Sala della Adienze, or Audience Chamber, which 
 is as perfect and as beautiful a specimen of the ancient 
 justice room as will be found anywhere. The room is 
 small and square and lit by two windows. It has a 
 wonderful cove roof, ornamented and cunningly divided 
 into panels by delicate plaster work. In each panel is 
 a picture, for the whole ceiling is painted. The paint- 
 ings are stated to be the work of Zucchero, who lived 
 between the years 1529 and 1569. The subjects are 
 very varied. There are in four panels the four Seasons. 
 Other pictures represent the Rape of the Sabines, the 
 parade of armed galleys before a naval battle. Emperors 
 in council, and the Sibyl ofifering the mystic books to 
 Tarquin. The colours are, from the lapse of years, 
 becoming faint, and have, in some places, disappeared, 
 leaving a mere phantom of the artist's design. The 
 general effect, however, of the display of faded pinks 
 and blues and yellows is extremely beautiful. 
 
 In the room is a large table covered with green cloth. 
 Behind it is the magistrate's bench, constructed of wood 
 which has been coloured black. On either side of the
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 table, and standing with its back against the wall, is a 
 humbler bench for those who have business in the court. 
 On one of these benches, or on one like them — for 
 they are not very old— I think Guido must have sat and 
 scowled at the two prisoners at the bar, his chin resting 
 on his hand, his elbow on his knee. 
 
 Now, in front of the table, and therefore in front 
 of the justice's bench, is a wooden railing, the wood 
 of which is black from age. It extends almost across 
 the room, from the door to window. It is the bar at 
 which the prisoners stood. The warder of the prison, 
 who is at the same time the general factotum of the 
 Pretura, drew special attention to this wooden rail 
 and to the obvious antiquity of it. It must have stood 
 here when Pompilia and her companion were brought 
 before the magistrate to answer the charge laid against 
 them by Count Guido. On this very bar — it is hardly 
 too much to assume — Pompilia's actual hands have 
 rested. As she turned towards the bench her profile 
 would stand out against the sunny window as does the 
 face of a saint painted, in the old fashion, upon a back- 
 ground of gold. 
 
 At the foot of the stair that leads from the well 
 court to the public hall is a heavy door. This is the 
 door of the prison to which the little countess and the 
 priest were dragged after the business in the justice's 
 room had been disposed of. There is nothing to lead 
 one to think that these prisons have undergone any 
 change since 1697. The cells are small, and have all 
 the aspect of sober age. The warder spoke of them as 
 if they had existed from all time. There are cells for 
 
 male prisoners on one side and for female culprits on 
 
 228
 
 Castelnuovo 
 
 the other. At the time of my visit there were six 
 prisoners in this small jail ; so, although the town is 
 so simple and childlike, and although in the country 
 round about every prospect pleases, yet there are still 
 evil-doers in Castelnuovo, even if they have not arrived 
 there in a calesse from Arezzo, smothered with dust, and 
 speechless from fatigue. 
 
 There is more to be seen of Pompilia's prison from 
 another part of the town. At the back of the Pretura 
 is a trivial square called the Piazza Garibaldi (Plate 101). 
 It is a very meagre piazza, with an unmistakable sugges- 
 tion of squalor about it. It is occupied by a few old 
 cottages, disposed in the agreeable disorder which is 
 characteristic of Castelnuovo. One side of the square 
 is taken up from end to end by the great building. It 
 looks even more formidable from this piazza than it 
 does from the front ; for it presents itself as an untidy 
 precipice, made up of the exposed rock of the hill, 
 surmounted by a wall of rough stone or of brick, which 
 same is made ragged by tufts of weed and shaggy 
 brambles, all clinging in determined fashion to the 
 inhospitable height. 
 
 Far up on the face of this high wall are five square 
 
 windows, heavily barred. These are the windows of the 
 
 prison (Plate 102). By the light of one of these Pompilia 
 
 wrote her letter to the old people in the Via Vittoria. 
 
 The midday sun would throw a shadow of the bars upon 
 
 the floor of the cell, for the prison faces south. Saddest 
 
 of all is this, that from her window, Pompilia would 
 
 see stretched before her eyes the valley of the Tiber, 
 
 the peaceful Campagna, and the fair country that lies 
 
 about the city of Rome. After long days of turmoil 
 
 229
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 and unhappiness, after the nightmare journey from 
 Arezzo, after the desperate attempt to save a Hfe other 
 than her own, these sullen iron bars came between 
 her and the goal that was already in sight and shut 
 her out from the paradise, the threshold of which she 
 had almost reached. 
 
 230
 
 G. FROM CASTELNUOVO TO ROME 
 
 FROM Castelnuovo to the walls of Rome is a dis- 
 tance of ISJ miles. It is a very pleasant and 
 picturesque road, although one may be assured 
 that Pompilia and Caponsacchi took little note of it, as 
 they made this — the last — stage in their eventful journey to 
 Rome. For the first few miles the road passes through 
 a wooded district where are many oaks, hawthorns, 
 clumps of white and pink wild roses, masses of yellow 
 broom, and here and there a patch of bracken. 
 
 About 5J miles from Castelnuovo are the few houses 
 which mark Borghettaccio, or Mai Borghetto as the 
 old maps give it. Here was a post-station, one of the 
 two between Castelnuovo and Rome. 
 
 Borghettaccio stands at an altitude of some 315 feet, 
 and provides a singularly fascinating view of the Cam- 
 pagna, with, in the far distance, Monte Mario and the 
 domes and towers of the great city. It would be from 
 this point, while the horses halted, that Pompilia and her 
 fellow prisoner would have their first sight of Rome. 
 It must have been to them a memorable moment. 
 From no spot to the north of Rome does the Cam- 
 pagna look more beautiful, in the month of May, than 
 from the high ground about Borghettaccio (Plate 103). 
 By the side of the road is a stone wall rising out of a border 
 of acanthus, whose great leaves arc in May at their very 
 greenest. Beyond the wall the land drops down to a 
 
 231
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 vast undulating grass country, wherein are slopes dotted 
 with trees, glens filled with undergrowth, level meads 
 and tiny valleys, with here and there a steep grey cliff 
 and here and there the green track of a hidden rivulet. 
 Far away is a hillock so covered with yellow broom that 
 it looks like a golden ball. Nearer at hand are glades 
 so bright with small white flowers that they seem to be 
 sprinkled with hoar frost ; while, in another valley, full 
 of blue shadow, there may be a film of amber which 
 looks like the golden weed in a trough of the Sargasso 
 Sea. On one smooth height wanders a flock of sheep, 
 or a company of black goats maybe, making their way 
 down a winding path, while, alone, as the only human 
 creature in sight, stands a man in a cloak, leaning on 
 a staff, a mere dab of brown in the wide expanse of 
 green. Straight ahead lie the great city and the plain 
 that leads to the sea ; to the right are the mountains 
 that cluster about the Lake of Bracciano, while to the 
 left is the Tiber Valley, and, beyond, at a distance of 
 many miles, the purple barrier of the Sabine Hills. 
 
 The last stopping place before Rome is Prima Porta, 
 which is only five miles from the Ponte Milvio. It is here 
 that the Via Flaminia passes through a defile among the 
 rocks, and it is here that the high ground ends, since 
 the road for the rest of the way is along the level floor 
 of the Tiber Valley. 
 
 Prima Porta consists of an old chapel and of two or 
 three houses of a modern date. It can boast of some 
 ruins in its neighbourhood, but the interest of the little 
 posting-place — once the scene of so much bustle and 
 excitement — is gone for ever. Just beyond Prima Porta 
 
 the road, as it crosses a stream, has been diverted from 
 
 232
 
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 From Castelnuovo to Rome 
 
 the original track, but the old road and the old bridge 
 have been left. They are shown in Plate 104. Across 
 this bridge the priest and the little countess journeyed 
 on their way to prison. The bridge is very venerable, 
 and is rapidly becoming buried in creepers and in ad- 
 venturous bush. It serves, however, to show how very 
 narrow was the ancient highway. 
 
 The rest of the road to Rome, although a little un- 
 interesting in the winter, is exceedingly beautiful in the 
 beginning of May. It runs for some part of the distance 
 at the foot of a steep cliff, having on the other side 
 the level bank of the Tiber. This clifl and the slope 
 between it and the road are ablaze with colour. There 
 are innumerable acacia trees in bloom, while among the 
 tangled undergrowth are masses of blue borage inter- 
 mixed with a brilliant company of crimson poppies, or 
 of thistles just breaking into flower. More beautiful 
 even than these are the banks of fennel, where, hover- 
 ing round a thousand slender stalks, nearly a fathom 
 high, are twenty thousand clusters of gold spheres. 
 
 Before reaching the Ponte Milvio the road passes 
 through a curious but pleasant part of the Campagna, 
 which strikes the traveller as familiar, because it forms 
 the scenery of so many religious pictures. Here is the 
 landscape which is associated with the lives of numer- 
 ous saints, and with the works of such artists as 
 Poussin, who spent laborious years in Rome. Here is 
 the road at the foot of the cliff along which the Vir- 
 gin travels with the Babe. Here is the green, undu- 
 lating country, with distant hills, with little patches of 
 wood, with little islands of rock, with isolated mounds, 
 capped by a house or a clump of trees, which seem 
 
 233
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book 
 
 >) 
 
 the native land of the Holy Family and a whole com- 
 pany of pious folk. Here, again, are the masses of 
 ruined masonry, partly overgrown with bushes and 
 partly converted into the dwellings of picturesque 
 shepherds, which fascinated the landscape painters of 
 some two centuries ago. 
 
 Another turn in the road and there come into view 
 the River Tiber and the domes and spires of the city 
 of Rome. 
 
 234
 
 7. HOW THE PEOPLE OF THE STORY LOOKED 
 
 IN the narrative of the Franceschini tragedy the 
 Yellow Book tells of many things, but it fails to 
 furnish any account of the personal appearance of 
 the men and women who played their parts in the drama. 
 We can only imagine them as people representative of 
 certain crude characters which figure in the stories of all 
 time and which have been familiar to the listening 
 world ever since tales were told. Guido is the sour, 
 malignant villain ; Paolo the sleek, smiling plotter of 
 plots; Caponsacchi the handsome, open-hearted hero; 
 and Pompilia the beautiful, pathetic, lamentable lady. 
 
 Although their faces are blurred and the light in 
 their eyes has vanished, the dress they wore is pre- 
 served to us through many contemporary paintings and 
 prints ; and thus it is possible to picture them moving 
 among the scenes that have just been described.* 
 
 This lean priest, stepping warily from stone to stone 
 across the muddy Corso and attired much as priests 
 are attired at the present day, is the Abate Paolo. The 
 elderly couple walking down the Via Vittoria on their 
 way to church are Pietro and Violante Comparini. He 
 wears a black cloth hat with a wide oval brim and a 
 
 ♦Among the many pictures illustrative of this matter an excellent example 
 is afforded by the painting on parchment by Baur in the Borghese Gallery in 
 Rome, showing the facade of the Borghese Palace in the seventeenth century, 
 with a very remarkable crowd of people of all ranks disposed in the open 
 square before the building. 
 
 235
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 high crown. It is a jaunty hat, for the brim can be 
 tilted many ways. It is the hat of the time, ranging 
 from a very shapely model when worn by the noble, 
 to a mere flapping rag when asprawl on the head 
 of a labourer. The old gentleman is clad in a tunic 
 of dark stufif with possibly some pattern on it. Below 
 the tunic are baggy breeches, in hue blue or black, 
 and then stockings and shoes. If the day be Sunday, 
 Pietro would probably display a tuft of ribbons at the 
 knee, or, should the weather be cold, would wear a 
 cloak — a mere square of black cloth thrown carelessly 
 over one shoulder and draped loosely round the body. 
 
 The smarter young men who came from the great 
 houses in the Via Bocca di Lione would be more 
 gaily dressed. Their coats would be longer and the 
 collar and cuffs of a different colour from the body. 
 Thus a grey tunic with red cuffs would be quite in 
 the mode, while a yellow coat worn under a blue cloak 
 would attract no more than flattering attention. Round 
 silk pompons at the knee, in the place of the ribbons, 
 seem to have been very chic at this period. A wide, 
 white linen collar was, at the same time, a mark of 
 distinction to which the humbler folk made no claim. 
 
 Violante appears in a close-fitting bodice, a little 
 
 low at the neck, with a high waist and with sleeves of 
 
 a different colour from the rest. The dress is quite plain, 
 
 while above it is an overskirt, reaching to the knee 
 
 and presenting some contrast in the matter of tint. 
 
 Over the head and shoulders she wears a mantilla, 
 
 possibly moulded a little to the head so as to look 
 
 somewhat like a hood. A younger woman who passes 
 
 her by has her mantilla delicately ornamented across 
 
 236
 
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 CO
 
 How the People of the Story Looked 
 
 the forehead. Violante displays a silver comb in her 
 hair, wears large earrings and a simple necklace. 
 When she received the Abate Paolo in the parlour in 
 the Via Vittoria to discuss Pompilia's dowry, one may 
 expect that she wore, over her simple dress, an em- 
 broidered apron which had descended to her from her 
 grandmother. 
 
 The two unclean men arguing across the table of 
 a poor wine shop at Vitiano are Gambassini and Agos- 
 tinelli. They are discussing Count Guide's terms for 
 the carrying out of the triple murder in Rome. They 
 are dressed as Guido himself was dressed when he was 
 captured at Merluzza — namel}"", in a sack-like brown 
 coat, worn over a vest of goats'-hair, with rough breeches 
 and coarser stockings, and on their heads cotton caps 
 covered by a thing of felt of doubtful colour, and 
 shapeless. 
 
 Count Guido, as he walked the streets of Arezzo 
 on his way to his friend the Governor, would be seen 
 to wear a black tunic with a very elaborate pattern 
 worked upon it in thread of a brighter colour than the 
 cloth itself. Very possibly, too, if he was in the mood 
 to be gay, there would be a tuft of feathers in his 
 hat. 
 
 As to Pompilia's appearance we know nothing, ex- 
 cept that she was "a beautiful woman." I have 
 wandered through every picture gallery in Rome and 
 in Florence, seeking, among the crowds of faces of 
 Italian women of years gone by, for the face of Pompilia. 
 After scanning some hundreds of faces, many of them 
 famous, a few of them beautiful, the majority of them 
 so saintly as to be inhumanly insipid, I at last found
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Pompilia. She appears in Fra Filippo Lippi's picture 
 of the Madonna in the Pitti Palace at Florence. A 
 reproduction of Brother Lippi's Madonna appears as the 
 Frontispiece of this book. 
 
 This beautiful face is that of a girl of about seventeen, 
 very still and pathetic, a little weary it may be, and yet with 
 an expression of determination about the dainty mouth 
 that is unexpected. She has the eyes of a fawn, pretty 
 hair, and a head-dress that is half girlish, half matronly. 
 The slight tilt of her nose saves her face from being 
 classical and formal. She is a little woman assuredly, 
 delicate looking, and one who would seem to have met 
 with little joy in her short life. Scanning her face one 
 can understand how she succeeded in persuading Capon- 
 sacchi to take her away from Arezzo, how her devotion 
 to him became unfathomable, how she defied her 
 husband when he confronted her at the inn at Castel- 
 nuovo and yet how she generously forgave him as she 
 lay dying in the familiar house in Rome. It is the 
 face of a guileless woman, tender, patient, sympathetic, 
 earnest and supremely feminine. 
 
 We know from Count Guido's list of the articles 
 he declared that she carried away with her what might 
 have been the particulars of her dress and the character 
 of the ornaments she wore, or might have worn. One 
 can imagine her decked in her best dress as she makes 
 her way to the theatre, where she first met Caponsacchi 
 face to face. It was, according to the inventory, " a 
 damask suit with its mantle and a petticoat of a poppy 
 colour embroidered with various flowers." Around the 
 slender neck, I am sure, was "the collar of crumpled 
 silk." With this costume would be worn the light 
 
 238
 
 How the People of the Story Looked 
 
 blue stockings and the shoes with silver buckles that 
 are mentioned in the list. I fancy, too, that she would 
 wear the "pair of ear-rings in the shape of a little ship 
 of gold." Pompilia may always be associated with this 
 little ship of gold, since she entrusted all her treasure 
 to one poor argosy, too frail for the darkening sea she 
 ventured on. 
 
 When she ran away with Caponsacchi from Arezzo, 
 I think that she wore her "snuff-coloured worsted 
 bodice with petticoat ornamented with white and red 
 pawns," and that over this was spread the "apron of 
 key-bit pattern with its lace," while about her shoulders 
 was wrapped that "scarf of black tafifeta with a bow 
 of ribbon" of which mention is made. I feel sure 
 that she had with her the little ship of gold, and that 
 her heart failed her utterly when this precious emblem 
 was wrested from her in the jail at Castelnuovo. 
 
 Pompilia's flight from Arezzo to Rome, had been 
 no other than the despairing voyage of a girl in a little 
 ship that, slight as it proved to be, was to her a ship 
 of gold. 
 
 239
 
 Part Three 
 
 THE PEOPLE OF THE STORY AS THEY 
 APPEAR IN THE POEM 
 

 
 THE PEOPLE OF THE STORY AS THEY APPEAR IN 
 
 THE POEM 
 
 THE Ring and the Book " is a poem of con- 
 siderable length, occupying, indeed, twelve 
 books and over twenty-one thousand lines. It 
 tells the same story no fewer than ten times over in a 
 series of monologues. In each telling the events which 
 occurred are viewed and discussed from a different 
 standpoint. It may be supposed that so much repetition 
 is wearisome, but, on the contrary, the interest never 
 wanes until the reader has heard to the end all that 
 those who are concerned in the story have to say about 
 its tragic circumstances. 
 
 The first book gives a plain, impartial summary of 
 the whole affair, such an account as would be presented 
 in a news-letter of the day. In the second book the 
 tale is told by one of the many in Rome who took 
 the side of the husband. It is a reproduction of the 
 inevitable gossip that babbled through every street of the 
 city when the private doings of husband and wife became 
 common knowledge. The third book also is "another 
 sample speech i' the market-place," expressing the 
 view of those who had sympathy with the wife. 
 
 There then follows a cold dissertation by a speaker 
 who inclined neither to the one side nor the other. It 
 is the commentary of the salon cynic, of "the critical 
 mind," of the callous man who would sum the matter 
 up as he would sort counters, who would weigh the pros 
 
 243
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 and cons of the case in a merchant's balance, and, at 
 the same time, assure the world that his estimate of 
 men and women was, in general terms, low. It is the 
 speech of the person of position who regards all those 
 who are not of his set as "the mob." 
 
 Next comes the speech of Count Guido Frances- 
 chini, the one he made before the Court in his own 
 defence, after he had passed the ordeal of the torture. 
 It is supplemented by a second monologue, later in 
 the book, which embodies his last frantic utterances, 
 blurted out in the condemned cell before he was led 
 away to execution. 
 
 After this Caponsacchi speaks. He tells the whole 
 story over again as it arose and grew within his know- 
 ledge. It is the speech delivered before the tribunal 
 in justification of himself and in vindication of the 
 good name of the lady he sought to serve. Next comes 
 PompiUa's account of her sad, brief life, told as she 
 was lying on her death-bed. She speaks with infinite 
 candour and earnestness, and with such beauty of 
 language that her confession stands out as the most 
 superb portion of the book. 
 
 Twice again is the whole story traversed in the 
 lawyers' pleadings ; first, by the advocate who conducted 
 the defence, and then by his colleague who under- 
 took the prosecution on behalf of the Treasury. 
 
 Last of all comes the Pope's utterance on the entire 
 afifair. He passes in review the varied and violent 
 circumstances of the tragedy, and pronounces judgment 
 upon all who were in any way concerned therewith. 
 It is through the mouth of the Pope that the poet 
 
 reveals the tenor of his own mind. 
 
 244
 
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 00
 
 I. THE COMPARINI 
 
 THE Comparini were, the poem says, " of the 
 modest middle class" and "of good repute." 
 Violante was a "stirring, striving" woman, an 
 ingenious schemer, " quick at the by-road and the 
 cross-cut," kind of heart, yet unwise, a maker of mis- 
 chief, yet a woman of blundering good intent. Pietro, 
 on the other hand, "a good, fat, rosy, careless man," 
 was stupid and credulous, and a mere tool in the 
 hands of his wife. He had a great affection for 
 Pompilia, the child he believed to be his daughter, 
 was opposed to her marriage, and charmed by the 
 thought of her coming back to the Via Vittoria again 
 after the affair at Arezzo. 
 
 " Will she come back, with nothing changed at all, 
 And laugh ' But how you dreamed uneasily ! 
 I saw the great drops stand here on your brow — 
 Did I do wrong to wake you with a kiss?' 
 No, indeed, darling ! " 
 
 In the discreditable matter of the dowry contract Pietro 
 was no party to the cheat. In this transaction 
 
 " Guido gives 
 Money for money — and they, bride for groom, 
 Having, he, not a doit, they, not a child." 
 
 On behalf of the Comparini it must be said that what 
 they did — lamentable as it proved to be — was done for 
 the supposed good of the child, while even Violante's 
 
 245
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 " leadenest of lies" was uttered without deliberate 
 thought of wickedness. 
 
 They " did their best 
 Part God's way, part the other way than God's, 
 To somehow make a shift and scramble through 
 The world's mud, careless if it splashed and spoiled, 
 Provided they might so hold high, keep clean 
 Their child's soul, one soul white enough for three, 
 And lift it to whatever star should stoop." 
 
 Violante pitted her wits against those of the Abate 
 Paolo and at the outset the abate won. The interview 
 between the two was a matter of profound concern, for 
 upon its issue hung the fates of those who were nearest 
 to them both. The interview took place in the Via 
 Vittoria. The Abate Paolo called one afternoon and 
 was admitted : 
 
 " Might he speak ? 
 Yes — to Violante somehow caught alone 
 While Pietro took his after-dinner doze, 
 And the young maiden, busily as befits. 
 Minded her broider-frame three chambers off. 
 So — giving now his great flap-hat a gloss 
 With flat o' the hand between-whiles, soothing now 
 The silk from out its creases o'er the calf, 
 Setting the stocking clerical again. 
 But never disengaging, once engaged. 
 The thin clear grey hold of his eyes on her — 
 He dissertated on that Tuscan house, 
 Those Franceschini " 
 
 The wedding was clandestine and unknown to Pietro. 
 It was, indeed, carried out with indecent secrecy a little 
 while before the family left their home in the Via Vit- 
 toria for Arezzo. Pompilia describes the ceremony, 
 
 such as it was, in the following words : 
 
 246
 
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 The Comparini 
 
 " I was hurried through a storm, 
 Next dark eve of December's deadest day — 
 How it rained ! through our street and the Lion's-mouth 
 And the bit of Corso, — cloaked round, covered close, 
 I was like something strange or contraband, — 
 Into blank San Lorenzo, up the aisle, 
 My mother keeping hold of me so tight, 
 I fancied we were come to see a corpse 
 Before the altar which she pulled me toward. 
 There we found waiting an unpleasant priest 
 Who proved the brother, not our parish friend. 
 But one with mischief-making mouth and eye, 
 Paul, whom I know since to my cost. And then 
 I heard the heav}^ church-door lock out help 
 Behind us : for the customary warmth, 
 Two tapers shivered on the altar. ' Quick — 
 Lose no time ! ' cried the priest. And straightway down 
 From . . . what's behind the altar where he hid — 
 Hawk-nose and yellowness and bush and all. 
 Stepped Guido, caught my hand, and there was I 
 O' the chancel, and the priest had opened book, 
 Read here and there, made me say that and this, 
 And after, told me I was now a wife." 
 
 ) 
 
 Violante was anxious enough to go to Arezzo. She 
 beHeved that there she would be rid of those money 
 troubles that pressed so heavily in Rome, while in the 
 Tuscan city she would find herself " gilt with an alien 
 glory" and would, together with Pietro, be able to 
 
 " Enjoy for once with neither stay nor stint 
 The luxury of Lord-and-Lady-ship." 
 
 The miseries of their short sojourn at Arezzo are 
 
 described by the Comparini in trenchant and bitter 
 
 terms. In place of a luxuriant life in a palace, they 
 
 found themselves housed as spectres in a sepulchre, 
 
 picking garbage off a pewter plate. After 
 
 247
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 " Four months' probation of this purgatory, 
 Dog-snap and cat-claw, curse and counterblast .... 
 Four months' taste of apportioned insolence, 
 Cruelty graduated, dose by dose ; 
 The starved, stripped, beaten brace of stupid dupes 
 Broke at last in their desperation loose. 
 Fled away for their lives, and lucky so." 
 
 Violante's confession, inevitable as it was, came 
 upon Pompilia as a cruel and paralysing blow. It 
 seemed to the girl as if the mother she adored "had 
 stripped her naked to amuse the world," and that 
 among the many ills heaped upon her this was the 
 very bitterest. So far as Pompilia's life was concerned 
 it was after this that 
 
 " The stealing, sombre element comes in 
 Till all is black or blood-red in the piece." 
 
 248
 
 II. THE FRANCESCHINI 
 
 GUIDO'S mother, the " grey mother with a 
 monkey-mien, mopping and mowing," fares 
 ill in the book. The Pope calls her "a gaunt 
 nightmare who turned motherhood to shame and 
 womanliness to loathing." The callousness with which 
 she connived at all the cruelty inflicted upon Pompilia 
 exposes her to the world as an inhuman wretch. 
 
 The "cat-clawed" Canon Girolamo was a loath- 
 some hybrid, neither fox nor wolf, but combining in 
 some contemptible degree the craft of one and the 
 violence of the other. 
 
 The Abate Paolo, the "fox-faced" priest, holds a 
 conspicuous place in the poem. It was his shrewd- 
 ness and intelligence that gave point and power to the 
 crude schemes of the Franceschini family. He was 
 throughout the moving spirit in the tragedy. It was 
 he who supplied the brains, and although he was out- 
 witted by Violante in the end, he came near to se- 
 curing a great triumph in sheer devilry. As Guido 
 was represented as being forty-six years of age when 
 the story opened, it was necessary that Browning should 
 make Paolo a younger brother, although he was, in 
 point of fact, the eldest of the family. He is de- 
 scribed as smooth-mannered, soft-speeched, sleek- 
 cheeked, as a hypocrite as well as a brute, as a man 
 who lived for greed, ambition, lust and revenge, and who 
 would have robbed sick folk in the temple porch. 
 
 249
 
 III. POMPILIA 
 
 POMPILIA, so the book affirms, was young, good 
 and beautiful, with large dark eyes and a bounty 
 of black hair. Her face was pale and her expres- 
 sion grave and griefTul, like that of our Lady of All the 
 Sorrows. One who saw her on her death-bed believed 
 
 "A lovelier face is not in Rome . . . 
 Shaped like a peacock's egg.'" 
 
 Caponsacchi speaks of her appearance in these 
 words : 
 
 " Her brow had not the right line, leaned too much, 
 Painters would say ; they like the straight-up Greek : 
 This seemed bent somewhat with an invisible crown 
 Of martyr and saint, not such as art approves. 
 And how the dark orbs dwelt deep underneath. 
 Looked out of such a sad, sweet heaven on me — 
 The lips, compressed a little, came forward too. 
 Careful for a whole world of sin and pain." 
 
 As she lay dying in the hospital, where she had 
 been taken after Guido's murderous attack, she gives 
 the story of her life.* 
 
 "Another day that finds her living yet, 
 Little Pompilia, with the patient brow 
 And lamentable smile on those poor lips, 
 And, under the white hospital-array, 
 A flower-like body, to frighten at a bruise 
 You'd think, yet now, stabbed through and through again, 
 Alive i' the ruins." 
 
 * In point of fact she died in the house in the Via Vittoria in which the 
 murder took place. 
 
 250
 
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 Pompilia 
 
 She tells her story in simple words and in the 
 manner of a child. Looking back over her confused, 
 tragic, broken life, she finds it all a mystery and un- 
 substantial. "My life," she says, "looks old, fantastic 
 and impossible. I touch a fairy thing that fades and 
 fades, even to my babe, till even he withdraws into a 
 dream." 
 
 " So with my husband — just such a surprise, 
 Such a mistake, in that relationship ! 
 Everyone says that husbands love their wives, 
 Guard them and guide them, give them happiness ; 
 
 .... well, 
 You see how much of this comes true in mine ! 
 People indeed would fain have somehow proved 
 He was no husband : but he did not hear. 
 Or would not wait, and so has killed us all." 
 
 Having known little but sorrow all her days, she 
 wonders at the mystery of existence, as a child wonders 
 at an illness that strikes it with sudden pain and blots 
 out, like a chill cloud, all the glamour of life. Her 
 marriage is a wonder to her, for she hardly knew at 
 the time what a husband meant. Arezzo is a fathom- 
 less blank, while the three years of sorrow spent in 
 that town stand out in her memory as an unintelligible 
 void. 
 
 In the whole of the long, pitiable story there is 
 never an unkind word and never a reproach. She 
 upbraids no one ; she condemns no one, while never 
 does she assume the pose of a martyr or clamour for 
 pity. She generously forgives "that most woeful man, 
 her husband," without one word of rancour or bitter- 
 ness. She seeks to lessen the harshness of Violante's 
 crime, thinks even that it was good for her and "good 
 
 251
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 for Pietro, who was meant to love a babe," while of 
 her "poor faulty mother," she is happy to think she 
 "died the easier by what price I fetched." In the 
 end she pours forth her heart in adoration of the man 
 who lifted her out of the slough of despond. 
 
 She speaks very prettily of her boy, of "that little 
 life so detached, so left all to itself." She leaves it to 
 the care of God, "who knows I am not by." 
 
 " Who is it makes the soft gold hair turn black 
 And sets the tongue, might lie so long at rest. 
 Trying to talk ? . . . . 
 All women are not mothers of a boy, 
 Though they live twice the length of my whole life, 
 And, as they fancy, happily all the same. 
 There I lay, then, all my great fortnight long. 
 As if it would continue, broaden out 
 Happily more and more, and lead to Heaven : 
 Christmas before me — was not that a chance ? 
 I never realised God's birth before — 
 How he grew likest God in being born .... 
 When he grows up and gets to be my age. 
 He will seem hardly more than a great boy ; 
 And if he asks, ' What was my mother like ? ' 
 People may answer, ' Like girls of seventeen ' — 
 And how can he but think of this and that, 
 Lucias, Marias, Sofias, who titter or blush 
 When he regards them as such boys may do ? 
 
 I fancy him grown great. 
 Strong, stern, a tall young man who tutors me, 
 Frowns with the others, ' Poor imprudent child ! 
 Why did you venture out of the safe street ? 
 Why go so far from help to that lone house ? 
 Why open at the whisper and the knock ? ' " 
 
 She dwells at some length upon her life at Arezzo, 
 in that "fell house of hate" where first Guido "laid 
 
 a hand on her that burned all peace." She realises 
 
 252
 
 Pompilia 
 
 that no matter what she did no good resulted, and 
 that her endeavours only served to increase her hus- 
 band's hate. She deals with the subject of the so- 
 called love letters, and proves that she was not only 
 innocent of sending them, but that she neither knew 
 nor cared what they purported to convey. She had 
 some insight into Guido's plot to entrap her, and was 
 aware that the maid Maria Margherita was both 
 false to her and bent upon accomplishing her ruin. 
 She felt that her husband was cruel, not merely that 
 he might hurt her, but that through her he might 
 hurt others. As for the reason for his hate it remains, 
 like so much besides in the wretched house, a matter 
 of blank mystery. Although she makes little of her 
 own unhappiness there are others who tell 
 
 how 
 
 " how the Httle solitary wife 
 Wept and looked out of window all day long." 
 
 "All sort of torture was piled, pain on pain, 
 On either side Pompilia's path of life. 
 Built round about and over against by fear, 
 Circumvallated month by month, and week 
 By week, and day by day, and hour by hour. 
 Close, closer and yet closer still with pain. 
 No outlet from the encroaching pain save just 
 Where stood one saviour like a piece of heaven, 
 Hell's arms would strain round but for this blue gap. . . 
 Then the grim arms stretched yet a little more 
 And each touched each, all but one streak i' the midst, 
 Whereat stood Caponsacchi, who cried, ' This way, 
 Out by me I Hesitate one moment more 
 And the fire shuts out me and shuts in you ! 
 Here my hand holds you life out ! ' Whereupon 
 She clasped the hand, which closed on hers and drew 
 Pompilia out o' the circle now complete."
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 This was the purpose of all her husband's scheming, 
 to "show the world their saint in a lover's arms, no 
 matter how driven thither." 
 
 She tells of the episode at the theatre, in the last 
 days of a carnival in March, of the throwing of the 
 comfits and of her seeing Caponsacchi face to face 
 for the first time. 
 
 In passages of remarkable beauty she speaks of her 
 resolve to fly away to Rome, tells of what it was that 
 prompted her to go and of the magic moment when 
 the impulse seized her. 
 
 "It had got half through April. I arose 
 One vivid daybreak, — who had gone to bed 
 In the old way my wont those last three 3'ears, 
 Careless until, the cup drained, I should die. 
 
 .... My sole thought 
 Being still, as night came, ' Done, another day ! 
 How good to sleep and so get nearer death ! ' — 
 When, what, first thing at daybreak, pierced the sleep 
 With a summons to me ? Up I sprang alive, 
 Light in me, light without me, everywhere 
 Change ! A broad yellow sunbeam was let fall 
 From heaven to earth, — a sudden drawbridge lay, 
 Along which marched a myriad merry motes, 
 Mocking the flies that crossed them and recrossed 
 In rival dance, companions new-born too. 
 On the house-eaves, a dripping shag of weed 
 Shook diamonds on each dull grey lattice-square, 
 As first one, then another bird leapt by, 
 And light was off, and lo was back again. 
 Always with one voice, — where are two such joys ? 
 The blessed building sparrow ! I stepped forth. 
 Stood on the terrace, — o'er the roofs, such sky ! 
 My heart sang, ' I, too, am to go away, 
 I too have something I must care about. 
 Carry away with me to Rome, to Rome ! ' " 
 
 254
 
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 Then comes the memorable journey, of which more 
 is said elsewhere, and the moment when, utterly pros- 
 trated, she arrives at Castelnuovo. It was then, she 
 says, that 
 
 "Something like a white wave o' the sea 
 Broke o'er my brain and buried me in sleep." 
 
 Of her awakening, and of her meeting with her husband 
 in the little room at the inn, she speaks as follows: 
 
 "Where was I found but on a strange bed 
 In a strange room like hell, roaring with noise. 
 Ruddy with flame, and filled with men, in front 
 Whom but the man you call my husband, ay — 
 Count Guido once more between heaven and me, 
 For there my heaven stood, my salvation, yes — 
 That Caponsacchi all my heaven of help, 
 Helpless himself, held prisoner in the hands 
 Of men who looked up in my husband's face 
 To take the fate thence he would signify, 
 Just as the way was at Arezzo : then, 
 Not for my sake but his who had helped me — 
 I sprang up, reached him with one bound, and seized 
 The sword o' the felon, trembling at his side, 
 Fit creature of a coward, unsheathed the thing 
 And would have pinned him through the poison-bag 
 To the wall and left him there to palpitate, 
 As you serve scorpions, but men interposed — 
 Disarmed me, gave his life to him again 
 That he might take mine and the other lives, 
 And he has done so. I submit myself." 
 
 She speaks with gratitude of her days spent in the 
 convent after arrest at Castelnuovo. It was here that 
 she found 
 
 " The uttermost of my heart's desire, a truce 
 From torture and Arezzo, balm for hurt 
 With the quiet nuns, — God recompense the good ! 
 Who said and sang away the ugly past." 
 
 255
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Of the hideous tragedy that brought her Hfe to an 
 end she says Httle, but as she Ues upon her death-bed 
 she frankly forgives her husband all that he has done. 
 
 *' For that most woeful man my husband once, 
 Who, needing respite, still draws vital breath, 
 I — pardon him ? So far as lies in me, 
 I give him for his good the life he takes. 
 Praying the world will therefore acquiesce. 
 Let him make God amends — none, none to me 
 Who thank him rather that, whereas strange fate 
 Mockingly styled him husband and me wife. 
 Himself this way at least pronounced divorce, 
 Blotted the marriage-bond : this blood of mine 
 Flies forth exultingly at any door, 
 Washes the parchment white, and thanks the blow. 
 We shall not meet in this world nor the next. 
 But where will God be absent ? In His face 
 Is light, but in His shadow healing too : 
 Let Guido touch the shadow and be healed ! " 
 
 From the manner of the telling of her story, from 
 the words spoken by her friends, Pompilia stands re- 
 vealed as a woman exquisitely feminine, lovable and 
 loving, gentle, patient, submissive and self-effacing, 
 generous and noble-hearted, tender as a child and yet 
 possessed, when the safety of her babe was threatened, 
 with the courage of a lioness. One circumstance in 
 her life — her flight from her husband's house — needs to 
 be explained and justified, while the merits of her 
 relationship with Caponsacchi stand forth for judgment. 
 
 From one point of view we have here a girl, who, 
 although married very young, was wedded to a man of 
 her parents' choosing. These two old people, foolish 
 and deluded as they may have been, were held to be 
 of good repute in the eyes of the world. Pompilia's 
 
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 husband treated her with persistent cruelty and con- 
 tempt, so that for three years and more her Yiic was 
 one of unabating miser3^ Would not her conduct have 
 been more commendable, and, indeed, even heroic, if 
 she had patiently endured this torture, and had without 
 flinching fulfilled her duties as a wife ? Instead of 
 being steadfast to the end, she flies away secretly in the 
 dark of the night with a sprightly and handsome man 
 of twenty-three. If there be no more in the story than 
 this, how is it possible that Pompilia's deliberate step 
 can be regarded not only as justifiable, but as worthy 
 of praise and, indeed, of fervid admiration ? 
 
 Viewed, however, from another and fuller point of 
 view the case stands thus. She was little more than a 
 child when the chronicle opens. She was, as she says, 
 " in a strange town with no familiar face." Not only was 
 every day of her existence a day of misery, but her life 
 was in danger. She was convinced beyond all arguing 
 that in some fashion or another she would be done to 
 death. Her presence in the house did harm, not good. 
 She served only to arouse and aggravate her husband's 
 vilest passions. To her brother-in-law she was merely 
 the object of dishonourable designs, while to the aged 
 countess she proved no more than an incentive to 
 malice and ill usage. She was polluted by association 
 with such a man as Guido Franceschini. He not only 
 blotted out all joy from her being, but he degraded 
 her and dragged her down with him into the mire. As 
 she exclaims, when he would seize her at Castelnuovo : 
 
 " My soul is mine, my body is my soul's . . . 
 At least and for ever I am mine and God's, 
 Never again degraded lo be yours." 
 R 257
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Possibly it might with justice be allowed that, in 
 the sum of these dire circumstances, she had reason 
 and to spare for her flight from Arezzo, yet in her 
 account of why she fled she talks of none of these 
 things. She made her escape from her husband's 
 house for a reason so compelling that it came to her 
 almost as a Divine command. She fled to save the life 
 of her unborn child. It was the mother's instinct that 
 led her to seek, at all costs, a place of safety. " God 
 put it in my head to fly," she says, "to obey the clear 
 voice which bade me rise, not for my own sake, but 
 my babe unborn." When she begged Caponsacchi to 
 take her to Rome, to take her as he would take a dog 
 " left masterless for strangers to maltreat," she made 
 only this one plea. These are her words to the priest : 
 
 " Here is the-service. Since a long while now, 
 I am in course of being put to death : 
 While death concerned nothing but me, I bowed 
 The head and bade, in heart, my husband strike. 
 Now I imperil something more, it seems, 
 Something that's trulier me than this myself. 
 Something I trust in God and you to save . . . 
 I have more life to save than mine." 
 
 One other reason she named which makes prominent 
 
 her absolute unselfishness. She says at another time, 
 
 to Caponsacchi : 
 
 "How strange 
 It is, my husband whom I have not wronged 
 Should hate and harm me. For his own soul's sake 
 Hinder the harm ! " 
 
 As to the companion in her flight, it was impossible 
 that she could escape to Rome alone. Neither could 
 she make the journey with a maid-servant, nor with a 
 
 258
 
 Pompilia 
 
 woman friend. Travelling in those days was difficult 
 and dangerous, the times were licentious, footpads 
 haunted every road, while the protection of the law 
 was feeble when not actually lacking. The condition 
 of the roads in Italy at this period is to be gathered 
 from an entry in the diary of John Evelyn. That 
 gentleman was travelling on horseback in 1645 through 
 the country just to the south of Rome. He writes : 
 "The day following, we were fain to hire a strong 
 convoy of about thirty firelocks, to guard us through 
 the cork woods (much infested with the banditti) as far 
 as Fossa Nuova, where was the Forum Apii." 
 
 Pompilia had applied to Canon Conti, a relation 
 and friend of the Franceschini, and a common-sense 
 man of the world. Failing GuilHchini, the first name 
 suggested, he had advised her to seek the help of 
 Caponsacchi. What else could this lonely woman do ? 
 She speaks honestly when she says : 
 
 " Earth was made hell to me who did no harm : 
 I only could emerge one way from hell 
 By catching at the one hand held me, so 
 I caught at it and thereby stepped to Heaven : 
 If that be wrong, do with me what you will ! " 
 
 As regards Pompilia's relation to Caponsacchi, it is 
 necessary to remember that at the time she met him 
 she was fast budding into womanhood. Her experience 
 of men had been woefully unfortunate. With the 
 exception of old Pietro Comparini she had grounds for 
 regarding all men with general distrust, if not with an 
 instinctive dislike. Her husband — to whom she was 
 married before she knew what marriage meant — was a 
 brutal ruffian, who bestowed upon her nothing but 
 
 259
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'' 
 
 hate. Of the two other Franceschini, one, the Abate 
 Paolo, was a foxy-faced priest, as cruel as he was mean, 
 while the other, the Canon Girolamo, was no more 
 than a contemptible scoundrel. Neither the Governor 
 nor the Bishop of Arezzo could have filled her with 
 any esteem for men, while those who visited at the 
 house. Canon Conti and Signor Guillichini for example, 
 regarded her with a pity she was too proud to accept. 
 It must have seemed to her that all with whom she 
 was surrounded were party to her misery and tolerant 
 of her degradation. 
 
 Then came the great crisis of her life. She resolved 
 to fly in order to save the life of her child. She was 
 about to take a leap in the dark. She sprang and found 
 herself in the arms of a man who was young and 
 handsome certainly, but also strong, determined and 
 courageous. Above all — and this must have been her 
 strangest experience — he was kind and gentle. Her 
 husband treated her like a dog, this man approached 
 her with a homage that raised her at once to a position 
 of dignity and worshipful respect. 
 
 Considering Caponsacchi's personal qualities and con- 
 sidering the service he rendered her, can it be a matter 
 of surprise that she regarded him as a being sent from 
 God ? Can it be wondered that she poured out her 
 heart to him, that she threw herself at his feet, that for 
 the rest of her short life she bestowed upon him the 
 most fervent devotion ? She repudiated with indigna- 
 tion the suggestion that she and the priest were lovers. 
 The term "lover," as her detractors used it, was a 
 term so vulgarised, so indiscriminating, so faulty that 
 she scorned the idea that it could express the tie that 
 
 260
 
 *^ fii^r*f
 
 Pompilia 
 
 bound her to Caponsacchi. He was her "sole friend, 
 guardian and saviour." "He is mine," she cries, " my 
 Caponsacchi!" "This man restored my soul," "This 
 one heart brought me all the spring." 
 
 The passages in "The Ring and the Book." which 
 deal with these two, with this despairing girl and the 
 resolute, unselfish man, are among the most beautiful 
 to be found in the poetry of any country or any age. 
 
 As Pompilia lies on her death-bed her last words 
 are for Caponsacchi. She revels in her worship of 
 him. She defends him against his traducers as a tigress 
 defends its wounded mate, and with the last breath in 
 her body she comforts him as only an adoring woman 
 can, and bestows upon him the farewell blessing of 
 "her immeasurable love." 
 
 It was during the flight of the two to Rome that 
 the change wrought in her life by the coming of this 
 man was made suddenly manifest to her. On the way 
 Caponsacchi assures her that in a few hours there will 
 be no more of the terrible journey, to which she replies: 
 
 " No more o' the journey : if it might but last ! 
 Ahvays, my life-long, thus to journey still ! 
 It is the interruption that I dread — 
 With no dread, ever to be here and thus ! 
 Never to see a face nor hear a voice ! 
 Yours is no voice ; you speak when you are dumb ; 
 Nor face, 1 see it in the dark. I want 
 No face nor voice th^t change and grow unkind." 
 
 Later on, when the journey was over, and she was 
 looking back upon the past, she says : 
 
 " I did think, do think, in the thought shall die, 
 That to have Caponsacchi for my guide. 
 Ever the face upturned to mine, the hand 
 
 261
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Holding my hand across the world — a sense 
 That reads, as only such can read, the mark 
 God sets on woman, signifying so 
 She should — shall peradventure — be divine." 
 
 Finally, at the very end, when she was dying, and 
 when she had comnaended her child to the care of 
 God, she takes farewell of her "one friend" in the 
 following words, and sends him a message : 
 
 " O lover of my life, O soldier-saint. 
 No work begun shall ever pause for death ! 
 Love will be helpful to me more and more 
 I' the coming course, the new path I must tread, 
 My weak hand in thy strong hand, strong for that ! . . . 
 Tell him, — T know not wherefore the true word 
 Should fade and fall unuttered at the last — 
 It was the name of him I sprang to meet 
 When came the knock, the summons and the end. 
 ' My great heart, my strong hand are back again 1 ' 
 I would have sprung to these, beckoning across 
 Murder and hell gigantic and distinct 
 O' the threshold, posted to exclude me Heaven : 
 He is ordained to call and I to come ! " 
 
 262
 
 IV. CAPONSACCHI 
 
 CAPONSACCHI is described in the book as a 
 "young, frank, personable priest," "a courtly, 
 spiritual Cupid, squire of dames," a man bold 
 and handsome, with "a polished presence, a genteel 
 manner, wit at will." He was a younger son of an old 
 and illustrious family originally from Fiesole, but later 
 from Florence, where was the Caponsacchi Palace. 
 He entered the priesthood somewhat against his 
 will. He was well-to-do and a favourite in society, a 
 writer of little poems and rather given to frivolity. In 
 his account of himself he does not claim that his early 
 life was blameless. 
 
 He tells of the part he played in the drama in his 
 speech before the Court, a speech made in defence of 
 himself and of the lady he served — made, too, at the 
 moment when Pompilia was dying. It is a manly, 
 clear-ringing speech, so vivid in its utterance that the 
 listener can see the figure of this strong, determined 
 man standing before his judges and demanding in a 
 voice of thunder that they hear nothing but the bare, 
 clean truth. We can see him, as others saw him at 
 the time, "the seeming-solitary man speaking for 
 God," and can hear his words ring through that 
 " grim, black-panelled chamber, rubbed shiny with the 
 sins of Rome." 
 
 It is a flashing, daring, defiant speech. He maintains 
 
 263
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Pompilia's innocence and his own honour. He de- 
 clines to discuss the viler of the charges made against 
 them. 
 
 " Sirs, give what credit to the lie you can ! 
 For me, no word in my defence I speak, 
 And God shall argue for the lady ! " 
 
 He repudiates with indignation the hint that he 
 was her lover, that he loved her in the way a creature 
 such as Guido would call love. With withering scorn 
 he flings back in their teeth the words of those who 
 titter, "The priest's in love," and adds, with a sob, 
 " Pompilia is only dying while I speak!" He avers 
 that never a word passed between them which the 
 Virgin might not hear : 
 
 " I never touched her with my finger-tip, 
 Except to carry her to the couch that eve, 
 Against my heart, beneath my head bowed low, 
 As we priests carry the paten." 
 
 He took her away to Rome to save her life and 
 that of her unborn babe. There was never another 
 thought in her mind nor in his. What he did was 
 "altogether for pity's sake," was consistent with his 
 priesthood, was not an act of self-sacrifice, but a duty. 
 "Duty to God is duty to her," he says, and claims 
 that the saving of this fettered and unhappy woman 
 was a devotional act, an act that he will uphold with 
 pride to the end of his days. He believed, as she be- 
 lieved, that he was ordained to save her. He scorns 
 all excuses. He spurns all fear of the world's opinion 
 or of the Church's censure. He views the tribunal 
 before which he stands with contempt, rebukes the 
 judges as "fools, alike ignorant of God and man," 
 
 264
 
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 and says at last petulantly, " I have done with being 
 judged." 
 
 He recalls all the details of the story, from the time 
 when he first came face to face with Pompilia at the 
 theatre and found her 
 
 "A lady, young, tall, beautiful, strange and sad." 
 
 He was well aware of Guido's hatred of Pompilia, and 
 how he "plotted to plague her into overt sin and 
 shame." He lashes the man without mercy, and 
 points to him, as he writhes "miserably caught i' the 
 quagmire of his own tricks, cheats and lies." He re- 
 pudiates all knowledge of the love letters, and is 
 furious at the evidence of the perjured maid, that 
 "lackey of lies." He is convinced that Guido 
 
 " himself wrote those papers — from himself 
 To himself — which, i' the name of me and her. 
 His mistress-messenger gave her and me. 
 Touching us with such pustules of the soul 
 That she and I might take the taint, be shown 
 To the world and shuddered over, speckled so." 
 
 He tells with what deliberation he finally undertook 
 to rescue Pompilia, how long he pondered over the 
 matter, and how clearly he saw that he would be 
 blameworthy unless he carried out the task. 
 
 " One evening I was sitting in a muse 
 Over the opened ' Summa,' darkened round 
 By the mid-March twilight, thinking how my life 
 Had shaken under me — broke short indeed 
 And showed the gap 'twixt what is, what should be — 
 And into what abysm the soul may slip, 
 Leave aspiration here, achievement there. 
 Lacking omnipotence to connect extremes — 
 Thinking moreover . . . oh, thinking, if you like, 
 How utterly dissociated was I, 
 
 265
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 A priest and celibate, from the sad, strange wife 
 Of Guido, — just as an instance to the point, 
 Nought more, — how I had a whole store of strengths 
 Eating into my heart, which craved employ, 
 And she, perhaps, need of a finger's help." 
 
 He tells the story of the journey from Arezzo to 
 
 Rome and recalls with affectionate tenderness every 
 
 little detail of the way, although it wrings his heart to 
 
 do so. He tells how Pompilia stepped out of the 
 
 palace door dressed in black from head to foot, how 
 
 white her hands and her face seemed by contrast, how 
 
 little she spoke, and how she walked to the city gate 
 
 and took her place in the carriage in silence. 
 
 " So it began, our flight thro' dusk to clear. 
 Through day and night and day again to night 
 Once more, and to last dreadful dawn of all." 
 
 He tells how they passed Perugia and Assisi, 
 treasures up every word she said and the curious, 
 child-like questions she asked, and narrates how, when 
 they heard the Angelus ring at sun-down, she begged 
 him to read Gabriel's song in the place of the service 
 for the hour. He wishes to recall everything she did, 
 every " breath or look of hers," and regrets one 
 particular half hour when he left her free, for, as he 
 says, that would have been "one more half hour 
 of her saved." He says that when they reached 
 Foligno in the evening he begged her to stay and 
 rest, but "Oh, no stay! she cried, in the fawn's cry, 
 on to Rome, on, on ! " Pompilia, in her own account 
 of the journey, tells how glorious he made for her the 
 world through which they passed, how towns, flowers 
 and faces, and all things helped so well to make real 
 
 the new earth that he had "woven around her." 
 
 266
 
 Caponsacchi 
 
 " ' This grey place was famous once,' said he — ■ 
 And he began that legend of the place 
 As if in answer to the unspoken fear, 
 And told me all about a brave man dead, 
 \Vhich lifted me and let my soul go on ! 
 How did he know too — at that town's approach 
 By the rock-side — that in coming near the signs 
 Of Ufe, the house-roofs and the church and tower, 
 I saw the old boundary and wall o' the world 
 Rise plain as ever round me, hard and cold, 
 As if the broken circlet joined again. 
 Tightened itself about me with no break — 
 As if the town would turn Arezzo's self — 
 The husband there — the friends my enemies, 
 All ranged against m.e." 
 
 Finally, Caponsacchi narrates how on the last 
 evening, just when " the sky was fierce with colour 
 from the sun setting," they came in sight of Castel- 
 nuovo. 
 
 Of his anxiety at the post-house, and of how the 
 journey ended, he speaks in the following words: 
 
 " I paced the passage, kept watch all night long. 
 I listened — not one movement, not one sigh. 
 ' Fear not : she sleeps so sound ! ' they said — but I 
 Feared, all the same, kept fearing more and more, 
 Found myself throb with fear from head to foot. 
 Filled with a sense of such impending woe. 
 That, at first pause of night, pretence of grey, 
 I made my mind up it was morn. — ' Reach Rome, 
 Lest hell reach her ! A dozen miles to make. 
 Another long breath, and we emerge ! ' I stood 
 I' the court-yard, roused the sleepy grooms. * Have out 
 Carriage and horse, give haste, take gold ! ' said I. 
 While they made ready in the doubtful morn — 
 'Twas the last minute — needs must I ascend 
 And break her sleep ; I turned to go. 
 
 And there 
 Faced me Count Guido." 
 
 267
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 He is bowed down with shame to think that at 
 this encounter he could have killed the ruffian, could 
 have killed him ere he killed his wife, but did not. 
 
 In order to inflict upon him the direst punishment 
 
 he begs them to let Guido live : 
 
 " Leave Guido all alone 
 Back on the world again that knows him now ! 
 I think he will be found (indulge so far ! ) 
 Not to die so much as slide out of life, 
 Pushed by the general horror and common hate 
 Low, lower — left o' the very ledge of things, 
 I seem to see him catch convulsively 
 One by one at all honest forms of life, 
 At reason, order, decency and use — 
 To cramp him and get foothold by at least ; 
 And still they disengage them from his clutch. 
 And thus I see him slowly and surely edged 
 Off all the tableland whence Hfe upsprings 
 Aspiring to be immortality. 
 
 As the snake, hatched on hill-top by mischance. 
 Despite his wriggling, slips, slides, slidders down 
 Hill-side, lies low and prostrate on the smooth 
 Level of the outer place, lapsed in the vale : 
 So I lose Guido in the loneliness. 
 Silence and dusk, till at the doleful end, 
 At the horizontal line, creation's verge, 
 From what just is to absolute nothingness — 
 Lo, what is this he meets, strains onward still ? 
 What other man deep further in the fate. 
 Who, turning at the prize of a footfall 
 To flatter him and promise fellowship. 
 Discovers in the act a frightful face — 
 Judas, made monstrous by much solitude ! 
 The two are at one now ! Let them love their love 
 That bites and claws like hate, or hate their hate 
 That mops and mows and makes as it were love ! 
 There, let them each tear each in devil's-fun, 
 Or fondle this the other while malice aches — 
 Both teach, both learn detestabiHty ! " 
 
 268
 
 96. —THE LITTLE CHAPEL BETWEEN THE POST-HOUSE 
 AND THE TOWN, CASTELNUOVO.
 
 CaponsacchI 
 
 He did not kill Franceschini, but, as he says to his 
 judges, " I gave place to you and let the law reign 
 paramount : I left Pompilia to your watch and ward, 
 and now there and thus she lies." 
 
 As Caponsacchi's speech nears the end he turns 
 once more to Pompilia, speaks of her with reverential 
 admiration, and in tones of despair, for, as he says, 
 "You see, we are so very pitiable, she and I." To 
 him she is the glory of life, the beauty of the world, 
 the wonderful white soul. He was blessed by the 
 revelation of Pompilia, he " had been lifted up to the 
 level of her" and with gratitude he exclaims, "She 
 has done the good to me." Of the depth and power 
 of the attachment between them, he says only this, 
 " She called me far beyond friend." 
 
 He recalls her appearance. He remembers the 
 first look she gave him, the gaze that 
 
 " burnt to my brain, as sunbeam thro' shut eyes." 
 
 He recalls her voice, " that voice immortal, oh ! that 
 voice of hers," and tells that music seemed always to 
 hover just above her lips. 
 
 He breaks out into passionate despair as he pictures 
 what life would be with the companionship of such a 
 woman as Pompilia, how complete would be the joy 
 merely "to live and see her learn and learn by her," 
 while in the place of this is " the old solitary nothing- 
 ness." He brings his speech abruptly to an end with 
 the words : 
 
 "O great, just, good God! Miserable me ! " 
 
 269
 
 G 
 
 V. GUIDO 
 
 OUNT GUIDO FRANCESCHINI was the 
 
 head of an old noble house, of a family 
 
 "old 
 To that degree they could afford be poor 
 Better than most." 
 
 Poor they certainly were and to a degree but little 
 short of wretchedness. It was lack of money, together 
 with a ravenous greed for money, that proved to be 
 Guido's undoing. A love of gold formed in time the 
 sole ray of light that glowed; in a heart, filled otherwise 
 with black hate and the brooding clouds of revenge. 
 
 According to the poem, Guido was already forty-six 
 years old when first he met Pompilia. He was a 
 mean-looking little man, care-bitten, sorrow-sunk and 
 lantern-jawed. His wife says that he was " nothing 
 like so tall as I myself," while others describe him as 
 lean, yellow, mis-featured, beak-nosed, bushy-bearded 
 and black-haired. 
 
 Of his moral worth there is little that is favourable 
 to be recorded. If one fervent partisan speaks of him 
 as "all conscience and all courage," others describe 
 him as "a prodigy of crime," "part man, part mon- 
 ster," while one of Pompilia's aUies does not hesitate 
 to affirm that it would 
 
 " beggar hell's regalia to enrich 
 Count Guido Franceschini." 
 
 270
 
 Guldo 
 
 In his earlier days he had taken minor orders, and 
 was connected with the household of a cardinal, in the 
 position, apparently, of a "parasite and picker up of 
 crumbs," or, as a cynic observed, he had 
 
 " his Cardinal 
 To serve in some ambiguous sort, as serve 
 To draw the coach the plumes o' the horses' heads." 
 
 The count, in his half-confiding, half-lying, haran- 
 gues, owns that he was a failure in the world, that he 
 was very poor, and that his object in marrying Pom- 
 pilia was to obtain her money. He claims, however, 
 that if he did deliberately buy her, she was, at least, 
 as deliberately sold. He even realises — brute though 
 he was — the pitifulness of the ceremony that mated 
 him with this shrinking girl. "There she fronts me," 
 he says, as he recalls the scene in the parish church 
 at Rome, 
 
 " Held only by her mother's finger-tip — 
 Struck dumb, for she was white enough before ! 
 She eyes me with those frightened balls of black, 
 Eyes tremblingly the altar and the priest ; 
 The amazed look, all one insuppressive prayer — 
 Might she but be set free as heretofore." 
 
 He rails against the Comparini without stint. It was 
 they who, using Pompilia as a lure, trapped him with 
 the meanest treachery and deceit. He believed he 
 was marrying the daughter of a respected family, with 
 a generous dowry at her back. "Daughter?" he 
 shrieks, "Dirt o' the kennel! Dowry? Dust o' the 
 street! " He was fooled and cheated, "his dowry was 
 derision, his gain — muck." 
 
 By the revelation of his wife's low birth he found 
 
 271
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'' 
 
 himself loaded with ignominy; he, who had done no 
 
 wrong, found himself degraded, he who sought only 
 
 to "do God's bidding and man's duty," found himself 
 
 the object of scorn and ridicule and "the world's face 
 
 an universal grin." 
 
 After the Comparini had departed from Arezzo he 
 
 was 
 
 " left alone 
 With his immense hate and, the solitary 
 Subject to satisfy that hate, his wife." 
 
 He might have turned her out of doors, as so many 
 of his friends advised, but he determined, as he says, to 
 
 " keep the puppet of my foes — 
 Her voice that lisps me back their curse — her eye 
 They lend their leer of triumph to — her lip 
 I touch and taste their very filth upon." 
 
 Moreover, Count Guido had another scheme in 
 view. He was determined to revenge himself upon 
 the crafty Comparini and, at the same time, to blast 
 with his detestation "that mongrel brat" his wife. 
 Viper though she was, she was young, pretty and 
 unsuspecting. Although she filled him only with 
 "vapid disgust" and was no more than a "nullity in 
 female shape," there were younger men who would 
 think her fascinating. The course to pursue was 
 obvious. 
 
 " What if the girl-wife, tortured with due care. 
 Should take, as though spontaneously, the road 
 It were impolitic to thrust her on ? 
 If, goaded, she broke out in full revolt, 
 Followed her parents i' the face o' the world. 
 Branded as runaway not castaway, 
 
 272
 
 97.— A STREET IN CASTELNUOVO.
 
 Guido 
 
 Self-sentenced and self-punished in the act ? 
 So should the loathed form and detested face 
 Launch themselves into hell and there be lost 
 While he look o'er the brink with folded arms." 
 
 Guido Franceschini's scheme, however, did not 
 succeed in the way he intended. His wife, it was 
 true, had run away, but she was not thereby launched 
 into hell, so that he was denied the delight of looking 
 over the brink of the pit to watch her writhings. The 
 Comparini were victorious again. Guido had lost the 
 dowry ; he had lost his wife ; he could not even say, 
 "Mine she is if I please wring her neck." She was 
 safe from neck-wringing with her foster parents in 
 Rome, in the very house in the Via Vittoria where he 
 had first seen her. 
 
 He sums up his position very graphically in the 
 following passage from the speech he made before the 
 tribunal in his own defence : 
 
 " I am irremediably beaten here — 
 The gross illiterate vulgar couple — bah ! 
 Why, they have measured forces, mastered mine, 
 Made me their spoil and prey from first to last. 
 They have got my name — 'tis nailed now fast to theirs. 
 The child or changeling is anyway my wife ; 
 Point by point as they plan they execute. 
 They gain all, and I lose all — even to the lure 
 That led to loss — they have the wealth again 
 They hazarded awhile to hook me with, 
 Have caught the fish and find the bait entire : 
 They even have their child or changeling back 
 To trade with, turn to account a second time. 
 They have caught me in the cavern where I fell, 
 Covered my loudest cry for human aid 
 With this enormous paving-stone of shame." 
 
 s 273
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 At the end, to crown all, had come the birth of 
 the child — Caponsacchi's child, as he stoutly averred — 
 the boy who would inherit the name of his ancient 
 family, who would lord it in the old palace at Arezzo, 
 and who, over the honoured roof, would keep displayed 
 "the flag with the ordure on it," as a permanent 
 evidence of the shame that had soiled the escutcheon 
 of the Franceschini. Pompilia, he was well assured, 
 would see the horrible devilry of this, and be content 
 that no more could be done to complete his misery 
 and utter humiliation. 
 
 He speaks of his furious ride from Arezzo to Castel- 
 nuovo, and tells how he 
 
 " Floundered thro' day and night, another day 
 And yet another night, and so at last. 
 As Lucifer kept falling to find hell, 
 Tumbled into the courtyard of an inn 
 At the end, and fell on whom I thought to find, 
 Even Caponsacchi." 
 
 Had he killed Caponsacchi and Pompilia at Castel- 
 nuovo not a hand would have been raised against him, 
 nor would a word of disapproval have been heard. 
 He stayed his sword because he thought it right to 
 leave the punishment of his wife's offence to the law. 
 The law, however, failed him, gave him no redress, so 
 he took the matter into his own hands. The sentence 
 passed upon Pompilia at Arezzo provided justification 
 for his final act. In what he did he was '* law's mere 
 executant," and, indeed, he boasts, "I dared and did 
 it, trusting God and law." 
 
 As to the Comparini, they were parties to his wife's 
 
 disgrace ; they condoned and, in fact, openly approved 
 
 274
 
 Guido 
 
 her infamous conduct. Moreover, was he not justified 
 in retaliating upon those who had tricked and robbed 
 him, and in seeking to wipe out, with their fives, the 
 blot of scorn with which they had blackened his fair 
 name? 
 
 The final proof of Pompilia's guilt, the final test 
 that made her fault unanswerable, was the one word, 
 " Caponsacchi," whispered outside the darkened door, 
 a word that threw back bar and bolt as if an angel 
 waited on the threshold. That name was " the pre- 
 determined touch for truth." 
 
 Even at the last he might have paused, he says, 
 
 " Had but Pompilia's self, the tender thing. 
 Fronted me in the doorway — stood there faint 
 With the recent pang, perhaps, of giving birth 
 To what might, though by miracle, seem my child — 
 Nay more, I will say, had even the aged fool 
 Pietro, the dotard, in whom folly and age 
 Wrought, more than enmity or malevolence. 
 To practise and conspire against my peace — 
 Had either of these but opened, I had paused. 
 But it was she, the hag, she that brought heli 
 For a dowry with her to her husband's house. 
 She, the mock-mother, she that made the match 
 And married me to perdition, spring and source 
 O' the fire inside me that boiled up from heart 
 To brain and hailed the Fury gave it birth — 
 Violante Comparinij she it was, 
 With the old grin amid the wrinkles yet, 
 Opened : as if in turning from the Cross, 
 With trust to keep the sight and save my soul, 
 I had stumbled, first thing, on the serpent's head 
 Coiled with a leer at foot of it." 
 
 As he was murdering Pompilia the thought of 
 Caponsacchi added fury to his loathing : 
 
 275
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 "I thought some few of the stabs were in his heart, 
 Or had not been so lavish — less had served." 
 
 He makes little mention of the murder. That dreadful 
 deed is told of elsewhere in the book. It is described 
 how 
 
 " The dreadful five felt finger-wise their way 
 Across the town by blind cuts and black turns .... 
 To where a threshold-streak of warmth and light 
 Betrayed the villa-door with life inside, 
 While an inch outside were those blood-bright eyes, 
 And black lips wrinkHng o'er the flash of teeth, 
 And tongues that lolled — Oh God that madest man ! 
 They parleyed in their language. Then one whined — 
 That was the policy and master stroke — 
 Deep in his throat whispered what seemed a name — 
 ' Open to Caponsacchi ! ' Guido cried : 
 Wide as a heart, opened the door at once. 
 Showing the joyous couple and their child 
 The two-weeks' mother, to the wolves, the wolves 
 To them." 
 
 According to one speaker, there never was "so 
 thorough a study of stabbing," while a third tells 
 
 vividly how 
 
 " Pompilia rushes here and there 
 Like a dove among lightnings in her brake, 
 Falls also : Guido's, this last husband's-act, 
 He lifts her by the long dishevelled hair, 
 Holds her away at arm's length with one hand. 
 While the other tries if life come from the mouth — 
 Looks out his whole heart's hate on the shut eyes, 
 Draws a deep satisfied breath, ' So — dead at last ! ' 
 Throws down the burthen on dead Pietro's knees." 
 
 Guido maintains before the Court that he approached 
 the actual deed of murder with feelings of remorse, 
 and that he struggled hard against what he felt to be a 
 
 Heaven-directed duty. He thus describes the miserable 
 
 276
 
 I 
 
 1 
 
 
 T9e- 
 
 I n 
 
 "^^e?r'-'^"'*^;. ..^- 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^ _ *■ 
 
 m 
 
 99.— THE PRETURA AT CASTELNUOVO. 
 Whsrt Pompilia and Caponsacchi were imprisoned
 
 Guido 
 
 days of Christmastide that he spent in the empty house 
 in his brother's vineyard : 
 
 " I was in Rome on Christmas Eve. 
 Festive bells — everywhere the Feast o' the Babe, 
 Joy upon earth, peace and good will to man ! 
 I am baptised. I started and let drop 
 The dagger. ' Where is it, His promised peace ? ' 
 Nine days o' the Birth-Feast did I pause and pray 
 To enter into no temptation more. 
 I bore the hateful house, my brother's once, 
 Deserted — let the ghost of social joy 
 Mock and make mouths at me from empty room 
 And idle door that missed the master's step — 
 Bore the frank wonder of incredulous eyes, 
 As my own people watched without a word. 
 Waited, from where they huddled round the hearth 
 Black like all else, that nod so slow to come — 
 I stopped my ears even to the inner call 
 Of the dread duty, heard only the song 
 * Peace upon earth,' saw nothing but the face 
 O' the Holy Infant, and the halo there 
 Able to cover yet another face 
 Behind it, Satan's which I else should see. 
 But, day by day, joy waned and withered off : 
 The Babe's face, premature with peak and pine, 
 Sank into wrinkled ruinous old age, 
 Suffering and death, then mist-like disappeared." 
 
 He tells of his flight with his companions along 
 the north road that led to Tuscany, and deplores the 
 folly of his omission to secure the necessary permit for 
 post-horses. He describes how, at the first inn out of 
 Rome, he attempted to rectify this error by bribery and 
 bluster: 
 
 " Yet I try the trick, 
 Double the bribe, call myself Duke for Count, 
 And say the dead man only was a Jew, 
 And for my pains find I am dealing just 
 
 277
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 With the one scrupulous fellow in all Rome — 
 
 Just this immaculate official stares, 
 
 Sees I want hat on head and sword in sheath, 
 
 Am splashed with other sort of wet than wine, 
 
 Shrugs shoulder, puts my hand by, gold and all, 
 
 Stands on the strictness of the rule o' the road ! 
 
 ' Where's the Permission ? ' Where's the wretched rag 
 
 With the due seal and sign of Rome's Police, 
 
 To be had for asking, half an hour ago ? 
 
 ' Gone ? Get another, or no horses hence 1 ' " 
 
 And so, as another speaker tells : 
 
 "All on foot, desperate through the dark, 
 Reeled they like drunkards along open road, 
 Accomplished a prodigious twenty miles 
 Homeward, and gained Baccano very near. 
 Stumbled at last, deaf, dumb, blind through the feat, 
 Into a grange, and, one dead heap, slept there 
 Till the pursuers hard upon their trace 
 Reached them and took them, red from head to heel, 
 And brought them to the prison where they lie." 
 
 Count Guido Franceschini is represented in the 
 poem by two speeches, one made in a small chamber 
 that adjoins the Court where 
 
 "with a twitchy brow and wincing lip 
 And cheek that changes to all kinds of white, 
 He proffers his defence," 
 
 and the other uttered in his cell, as he sits before his 
 two confessors, shuffling his feet in the fetid straw. 
 
 These two monologues provide one of the most re- 
 markable and most subtle delineations of character that 
 any work of imagination has ever set forth. Here is 
 a cold, minute, human dissection. Here is laid bare 
 the mind of a specious villain as he writhes and strains 
 against the steel fetters that bind him to the wall. It 
 
 278
 
 Guido 
 
 is a terrible picture, vivid and masterly, exact in its 
 drawing, brilliant in its colour, horrible in its reality. 
 
 Guido in his defence omits no detail, however 
 small, that may influence the Court. He talks rapidly, 
 volubly, and often incoherently. He darts from one 
 point to another as each hopeful idea enters his 
 desperate mind. He is a wild beast at bay, searching 
 for any gap — mere chink though it be — in the cordon 
 that hems him in. 
 
 He is at one time fierce and defiant, quick to 
 seize any flaw in the indictment, ingenious in excuse, 
 indignant with his accusers and aggressive in the assertion 
 of his righteousness. At another moment he is meek 
 and cringing. He has been misunderstood, has been 
 treated ill, is an object for pity and kindness. He 
 humbles himself to the earth, like a chidden dog at 
 the feet of his master. He is in a state of deep abase- 
 ment, is a patient, suffering man who only wishes well 
 to all the world and has ever been anxious to do the 
 right. He even makes some pitiable fun of his abject 
 position. 
 
 In another sudden mood he is bitter and sarcastic, 
 boastful and truculent. He no longer pleads, he insists. 
 He essays to be dignified and self-confident, but his white 
 lips and haggard eyes belie him. He grasps the bar 
 at which he stands as if the hand-worn wood were solid 
 truth. He emphasises his claim with clenched fist and 
 bellowing voice. 
 
 Once more his utterance sinks to a whisper. He 
 
 maintains his innocence in canting, sobbing phrases. 
 
 He claims "to stand one white integrity from head to 
 
 heel," "God shall not lose a life may do Him further 
 
 279
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 service," says the stammering hyprocrite, while the 
 tears run down his cheek. He appeals with fawning 
 confidence to the law, to the kindly judge, of whose 
 right-doing he is assured, and finally begs for mercy 
 for the sake of his aged mother and his new-born 
 baby boy. 
 
 In his second monologue, in his half-crazy utter- 
 ances made just before he was led away to execution. 
 Count Guido shows other phases of his character. He 
 speaks to the two priests who have come to receive his 
 confession. Cardinal Acciaiuoli and Abate Panciatichi, 
 both men from his own country of Tuscany. He talks 
 to them in feverish haste and with reckless impetuosity. 
 He treats the possibility of his execution as a cruel 
 jest, a vile experiment. Turning to the Cardinal he 
 reminds him that the Franceschini family is of as old 
 a lineage as the Acciaiuoli. "My blood," he says, 
 
 " Comes from as far a source : ought it to end 
 This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks 
 Into Rome's sink, where her red refuse runs ? " 
 
 He implores his fellow-countrymen to help him. 
 Why should he — a man as innocent as the Pope — be 
 put to death? "Dying in cold blood is the desperate 
 thing." Death fills him with horror. He saw the 
 scafifold once, and it sickened him. Why take a harm- 
 less human life, when the gospel of Christ is pure love? 
 Confess? He has nothing to confess. Repent? Will 
 repentance save his life ? 
 
 He jabbers on, he wanders, he talks in stumbling 
 haste. " Talk I must," he says, for he seems to think 
 that by talking he may gain another minute or two of 
 
 280
 
 100 -CASTELNUOVO : THK STEPS BY WHICH POMPILIA 
 ASCENDED TO THE PRISON.
 
 Guldo 
 
 life. He fumes and curses, breaks out into violent, 
 incoherent speech, reviles the Pope, reviles the religion 
 of Christ, fills the dungeon with shrieks of blasphemy. 
 
 He becomes in another moment quiet and plausible, 
 crafty and specious, using many shrewd arguments in 
 his favour, yet at the same time bolting aimlessly to 
 this side and to that, like a maddened rat in a cage. 
 
 He traverses the whole story from the beginning to 
 the end, raving like a man in a delirium, now cursing 
 everyone who had come in his path, and now making 
 the cell echo with his hideous laughter. 
 
 " Why do I laugh ? Why in the very gripe 
 O' the jaws of death's gigantic skull do I 
 Grin back his grin, make sport of my own pangs ? " 
 
 He becomes bestial in his ravings, coarse, brutal 
 and savage. He vents much of his wrath upon Violante. 
 
 "That mother with her cunning and her cant — 
 The eyes with first their twinkle of conceit, 
 Then, dropped to earth in mock-demureness — now, 
 The smile self-satisfied from ear to ear, 
 Now, the prim pursed-up mouth's protruded lips, 
 With deferential duck, slow swing of head, 
 Tempting the sudden fist of man too much — 
 That owl-like screw of lid and rock of ruff ! " 
 
 Pompilia and the priest are " a pair of liars " ; yet of 
 
 Pompilia, he admits, " there was no touch of hate in 
 
 her," while in a softer mood he pleads on his behalf 
 
 that she forgave him all before she died, she 
 
 " One ghost-thing, half on earth. 
 Half out of it — as if she held God's hand 
 While she leant back and looked her last at me, 
 Forgiving me (here monks begin to weep). 
 Oh, from her very soul, commending mine 
 To heavenly mercies which are infinite." 
 
 281
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'' 
 
 As he becomes calmer he grovels at the feet of his 
 confessors, prays to them and sets forth with wonder- 
 ful ingenuity various grounds which may even yet 
 afford excuse for setting him free. 
 
 The interview closes with most dramatic vividness. 
 Guido hears on the stairs the steps of the Brotherhood 
 of Death, as they slowly approach the cell, chanting 
 aloud the penitential psalm, " Out of the depths have 
 I cried unto thee, O Lord." He springs to his feet 
 and exclaims : 
 
 " Who are these you have let descend my stair ? 
 Ha, their accursed psalm ! Lights at the sill 1 
 Is it ' Open * they dare bid you ? Treachery ! 
 Sirs, have I spoken one word all this while 
 Out of the world of words I had to say ? 
 Not one word ! all was folly— I laughed and mocked ! 
 Sirs, my first true word all truth and no lie. 
 Is — save me notwithstanding ! Life is all ! 
 I was just stark mad — let the madman live 
 Pressed by as many chains as you please pile ! 
 Don't open ! Hold me from them ! I am yours, 
 I am the Granduke's — no, 1 am the Pope's ! 
 Abate — Cardinal — Christ — Maria — God . . . 
 Pompiha, will you let them murder me ? " 
 
 282
 
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 X
 
 VI. THE PLEADERS 
 
 THE two leading advocates in the murder trial, 
 Arcangeli and Bottini, are not, as Browning 
 presents them, men of vivid personality, nor do 
 their pleadings add either life to the story or poetry 
 to the verse. Arcangeli, the counsel for the defence, 
 speaks first. He is represented as a 
 
 "jolly learned man of middle age, 
 Cheek and jowl all in laps with fat and law," 
 
 who 
 
 " Wheezes out law and whiffles Latin forth." 
 
 He takes little real interest in the case. He is more 
 concerned with his son Giacinto, who is just eight 
 years old, whose birthday he is celebrating, and for 
 whom he is planning a great, if vulgar, feast. The 
 points that he emphasises in his memorial of defence 
 are those that have been already indicated in the 
 account furnished from the Yellow Book (p. 80). He 
 naturally lays most stress upon the question 
 
 " Who is it dares impugn the natural law ? 
 Deny God's word ' the faithless wife shall die ' ? " 
 
 Pompilia he represents as exhibiting 
 
 " a volubility of curse, 
 A conversancy in the skill of tooth 
 And claw to make suspicion seem absurd." 
 
 283
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 As to the love-letters, he is convinced that she 
 wrote them, and that she was "as able to write as ready 
 to sin." Moreover, she dosed her husband with poison 
 in order to cover her escape from Arezzo, and thus it 
 was that 
 
 " One merry April morning, Guido woke 
 After the cuckoo, so late, near noonday, 
 With an inordinate yawning of the jaws, 
 Ears plugged, eyes gummed together, palate, tongue 
 And teeth one mud-paste made of poppy milk." 
 
 As for Caponsacchi, he asks what right had he to 
 run away with the countess. 
 
 " Pray, in what rubric of the breviary 
 Do you find it registered the part of a priest 
 That to right wrongs he skip from the church-door, 
 Go journeying with a woman that's a wife ? " 
 
 What possible defence could explain the discovery 
 made at Castelnuovo, where, when Guido arrived in 
 hot haste, 
 
 " in the inn-yard, bold as 'twere Troy-town, 
 There strutted Paris in correct costume. 
 Pompilia soon looked Helen to the life 
 Recumbent upstairs in her pink and white. 
 One couch in one room and one room for both ? " 
 
 Guido, on the other hand, was " a sustainer of 
 society," for he exercised no more than a husband's 
 right "to save his honour which is more than life" ; 
 while the wretched clodhoppers from Vitiano, who 
 were ready to murder women for a few scudi apiece, 
 were no other than "four courageous, conscientious 
 friends." It was the news that Pompilia had a child, 
 
 284
 
 .'^sL-. 
 
 ^ ' — .->.-- 
 
 102.— THE BACK OF THK FHKTUKA. CASTELN UOVO, 
 
 Showing the windows of llie prison in which Pompilia was 
 
 confined.
 
 The Pleaders 
 
 his son and heir, that finally drove Guido to frenzy, 
 
 for it was then that 
 
 " the overburdened mind 
 Broke down, what was a brain became a blaze." 
 
 Arcangeli's speech throughout is tedious, frivolous 
 and largely beside the mark. It is inflated with flatu- 
 lent conceit, with extraneous detail and fanciful imagin- 
 ings. He plays pitch and toss with quotations in Latin, 
 and fills his memorial with a chaotic jumble of legal 
 references and citations. It is no argued defence of 
 the prisoners, but merely a pretentious collection of 
 forensic quibblings, babbled forth by a man of little 
 mind and less understanding. 
 
 It is obvious enough that Arcangeli is made but a 
 puppet champion of Guido's claims in order to bring 
 into strong relief that powerful, masterly, wide-minded 
 judgment of the Pope, which follows upon the advo- 
 cate's pleadings. 
 
 For a like reason, with a like purpose, to make 
 prominent by contrast the Pope's massive and nobly 
 worded indictment of Guido, the speech for the prose- 
 cution is presented as the petty, feebly handled efTort 
 of an ambitious pettifogger. 
 
 Bottini is referred to by an opponent as "a lean- 
 gutted, hectic rascal," while others describe his 
 
 " Blue juvenile, pure eye, and pippin cheek, 
 And brow all prematurely soiled and seamed 
 With sudden age, bright devastated hair," 
 
 and sum up his character as " odds of age joined 
 
 in him with ends of youth." 
 
 Bottini's speech is more finished than that of his 
 
 285
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book'' 
 
 colleague, is more pretentious, less disconnected, and, 
 at the same time, more florid and verbose. He em- 
 bellishes his utterances with many classical quotations, 
 but, at the same time, deals at irrelevant length with 
 trivial details. Like his opponent, he shows no solid 
 interest in the matter in hand. He believes himself 
 to be a great and forcible orator, and takes pleasure in 
 imagining with what dramatic effect he could bring 
 forth this and that point if only his pleading could take 
 the form of a set speech, delivered before an admiring 
 Court. In his prosecution of the prisoners on behalf of 
 the Treasury, he advances no particulars other than 
 those which have been already set out in the account 
 from the Yellow Book (p. 84). 
 
 His condemnation of Guido is mild and half-hearted. 
 He flourishes the great sword of the law over the head 
 of the villain count, but the steel is dull and the edge 
 is blunted. 
 
 Of Caponsacchi he speaks leniently and with indulg- 
 ence, as an old man would comment on the doings 
 of a hot-headed youth. He sees in him no hero, no 
 modern-day St. George, for he goes little beyond 
 allowing that he did his best according to his lights. 
 
 His defence of Pompilia is a mere apologia. He 
 excuses her with ineffectual effort, pities her with vapid 
 flabbiness, slobbers over her troubles and leaves the 
 vindication of her honour and the cherishing of her 
 good name to stronger and unknown hands. 
 
 His monologue, indeed, forms a fitting prelude — 
 fitting in its irritating feebleness — to the real speech of 
 the prosecution, which comes from the lips of the aged 
 prelate in the Vatican. 
 
 286
 
 T 
 
 VII. THE POPE 
 
 HE Pope, an old man over eighty years of age, 
 is represented as 
 
 " sitting out the dim 
 Droop of a sombre February day 
 In the plain closet where he does such work, 
 With, from all Peter's treasury, one stool, 
 One table and one lathen crucifix," 
 
 poring over what he terms " The dismallest of docu- 
 ments." 
 
 His speech is solemn, dignified and sonorous, the 
 criticism of a great mind and the judgment of a broad 
 intellect. He is relentless and, indeed, terrible in his 
 denunciation of Count Guido, but tender and lovable 
 in his generous appreciation of Pompilia. He recog- 
 nises the solemnity of his deliberations and reminds 
 himself that the life of a human being hangs upon his 
 decision. 
 
 " Once more on this earth of God's, 
 While twilight lasts and time wherein to work, 
 I take His staff with my uncertain hand, 
 And stay my six and fourscore years, my due 
 Labour and sorrow, on His judgment-seat, 
 And forthwith think, speak, act in place of Him — 
 The Pope for Christ. Once more appeal is made 
 From man's assize to mine : I sit and see 
 Another poor weak trembling human wretch 
 Pushed by his fellows, who pretend the right, 
 Up to the gulf which, where I gaze, begins 
 
 287
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 From this world to the next — gives way and way, 
 
 Just on the edge over the awful dark : 
 
 With nothing to arrest him but my feet. . . . 
 
 And I am bound, the solitary judge, 
 
 To weigh the worth, decide upon the plea, 
 
 And either hold a hand out, or withdraw 
 
 A foot and let the wretch drift to the fall." 
 
 He owns that he is not infallible, and recalls more 
 than one occasion in the past when popes had given 
 decisions which, in fullness of time, were proved to be 
 erroneous, and were, indeed, reversed. Here no re- 
 versal is possible. Here no amendment can avail. 
 Supposing that he does come to a wrong conclusion, 
 how would he defend himself? 
 
 " What other should I say than ' God so willed : 
 Mankind is ignorant, a man am I : 
 Call ignorance my sorrow, not my sin ! ' 
 So and not otherwise, in after-time, 
 If some acuter wit, fresh probing, sound 
 This multifarious mass of words and deeds 
 Deeper, and reach through guilt to innocence, 
 I shall face Guido's ghost nor blench a jot. 
 'God who set me to judge thee, meted out 
 So much of judging faculty, no more : 
 Ask Him if I was slack in use thereof.'" 
 
 He wonders if he, as a man of the world, will ever 
 question his decision as the head of the Church. 
 
 "Wherefore, Antonio Pignatelli, thou 
 My ancient self, who wast no Pope so long 
 But studied God and man, the many years 
 I' the school, i' the cloister, in the diocese — 
 Thou, not Pope, but the mere old man o' the world 
 Supposed inquisitive and dispassionate, 
 Wilt thou, the one whose speech I somewhat trust. 
 Question the after-me, this self now Pope, 
 Hear his procedure, criticise his work ? " 
 
 288
 
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 The Pope 
 
 He proceeds to go through the whole of the story, 
 from the beginning to the end, making wise com- 
 ments as each phase unfolds itself. 
 
 For what he did Guido had assuredly not his cir- 
 cumstances to blame, for he began life with more than 
 normal advantages. 
 
 " Fortified by propitious circumstance, 
 Great birth, good breeding, with the Church for guide," 
 
 and guarded from the arch tempter by diligent culture 
 and choice companionship, he yet proved himself to 
 be a man of low instinct and base pretension. 
 
 With regard to his fatal marriage and the object of 
 that marriage, the Pope speaks as follows : 
 
 "He purposes this marriage, I remark, 
 On no one motive that should prompt thereto — 
 Farthest, by consequence, from ends alleged 
 Appropriate to the action ; so they were : 
 The best, he knew and feigned, the worst he took. 
 Not one permissible impulse moves the man. 
 From the mere liking of the eye and ear, 
 To the true longing of the heart that loves, 
 No trace of these : but all to instigate. 
 Is what sinks man past level of the brute, 
 Whose appetite if brutish is a truth. 
 All is lust for money : to get gold — 
 Why, lie, rob, if it must be murder ! Make 
 Body and soul wring gold out, lured within 
 The clutch of hate by love, the trap's pretence ! " 
 
 The revelation of Pompilia's birth brings Guido's 
 carefully laid scheme to nought. He then determines 
 to wreak his malice on the parents by punishing the 
 innocent child and at the same time advance his un- 
 abated greed. With this purpose always in his mind, 
 he cultivates 
 
 T 289
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 " the fine 
 Felicity and flower of wickedness ; 
 Determines by the utmost exercise 
 Of violence, made safe and sure by craft, 
 To satiate malice, pluck one last arch-pang 
 From the parents, else would triumph out of reach, 
 By punishing their child, within reach yet, 
 Who nowise could have wronged, thought, word or deed, 
 I' the matter that now moves him. So plans he, 
 Always subordinating (note the point !) 
 Revenge, the manlier sin, to interest, 
 The meaner." 
 
 He hopes to goad Pompilia to despair, to suicide, 
 or at least to flight, with no other result than this : 
 "She lay resigned to die — so far the simple cruelty 
 was foiled." 
 
 He then endeavours to entrap her in a love affair, 
 
 and sets the trap with consummate cunning. Hence 
 
 come the maze of lies, the forged letters, the spying 
 
 and watching of the maid, 
 
 " Whereby the man so far attains his end 
 That strange temptation is permitted — see ! 
 Pompilia, wife, and Caponsacchi, priest. 
 Are brought together as nor priest nor wife 
 Should stand, and there is passion in the place, 
 Powder in the air for evil as for good. 
 Promptings, from heaven and hell, as if the stars 
 Fought in their courses for a fate to be. 
 Thus stand the wife and priest, a spectacle, 
 I doubt not, to unseen assemblage there. 
 No lamp will mark that window for a shrine, 
 No tablet signalise the terrace, teach 
 New generations which succeed the old 
 The pavement of the street is holy ground ; 
 No bard describe in verse how Christ prevailed 
 And Satan fell like lightning ! " 
 
 This second plot failed utterly by God's gift to 
 
 290
 
 The Pope 
 
 Pompilia of a purity of soul that would not take 
 pollution. 
 
 Once more Guido schemes in the solitude of his 
 palace in Arezzo, schemes to satisfy his greed and to 
 crush the hated family, root and branch. The signal 
 for this outbreak of malice, for this more finished 
 display of craft, was the birth of his child — a noble 
 moment ! He will sweep all three from the earth, but 
 will save the child, who must in the end inherit all 
 that the three possessed. 
 
 So far with the story. The Pope now proceeds to 
 
 pass judgment upon those who have played their parts 
 
 in the tragedy. He deals first with Count Guido 
 
 Franceschini. 
 
 " Such I find Guido, midmost blotch of black 
 Discernible in this group of clustered crimes 
 Huddling together in the cave they call 
 Their palace, outraged day thus penetrates. 
 Around him ranged, now close and now remote. 
 Prominent or obscure to meet the needs 
 O' the mage and master, I detect each heap 
 Subsidiary i' the scene nor loathed the less. 
 All alike coloured, all descried akin 
 By one and the same pitchy furnace stirred 
 At the centre : see, they lick the master's hand — 
 This fox-faced horrible priest, this brother-brute 
 The Abate — wh)^, mere wolfishness looks well, 
 Guido stands honest in the red o' the flame. 
 Beside this yellow that would pass for white, 
 This Guido, all craft but no violence. 
 This copier of the mien and gait and garb 
 Of Peter and Paul that he may go disguised, 
 Rob halt and lame, sick folk i' the temple-porch. 
 Armed with religion, fortified by law, 
 A man of peace, who trims the midnight lamp. 
 And turns the classic page — and all for craft, 
 
 2gi
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 All to work harm with, yet incur no scratch ! 
 While Guido brings the struggle to a close, 
 Paul steps back the due distance, clear o' the trap 
 He builds and baits. Guido I catch and judge ; 
 Paul is past reach in this world and my time : 
 That is a case reserved.'' 
 
 Having disposed of the other Franceschini, of the 
 Bishop of Arezzo and of the Governor of that town, 
 the Pope turns with loving gesture to PompiUa : 
 
 "First of the first, 
 Such I pronounce Pompilia, then as now 
 Perfect in whiteness — stoop thou down, my child, 
 Give one good moment to the poor old Pope 
 Heart-sick at having all his world to blame . . . 
 
 Everywhere 
 I see in the world the intellect of man, 
 That sword, the energy his subtle spear. 
 The knowledge which defends him like a shield — 
 Everywhere ; but they make not up, I think, 
 The marvel of a soul like thine, earth's flower 
 She holds up to the softened gaze of God ! " 
 
 He praises her purity, her patience, the firmness of 
 her faith, and the nobleness with which she ever re- 
 turned right for wrong and pardon for injury. He 
 then continues : 
 
 " My flower, 
 My rose, I gather for the breast of God, 
 This I praise most in thee, where all I praise. 
 That having been obedient to the end 
 According to the light allotted, law 
 Prescribed thy life, still tried, still standing test — 
 Dutiful to the foolish parents first, 
 Submissive next to the bad husband — nay, 
 Tolerant of those meaner miserable 
 That did his bests, eked out the dole of pain — 
 Thou, patient thus, couldst rise from law to law 
 
 292
 
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 The Pope 
 
 The old to the new, promoted at one cr)- 
 O' the trump of God to the new service, not 
 To longer bear, but henceforth fight, be found 
 Sublime in new impatience with the foe ! . . . 
 Oh child that didst despise thy life so much 
 When it seemed only thine to keep or lose . . . 
 Thou at first prompting of what I call God, 
 And fools call Nature, didst hear, comprehend. 
 Accept the obligation laid on thee. 
 Mother elect, to save the unborn child . . . 
 To worthily defend that trust of trusts, 
 Life from the Ever Living." 
 
 Finally he deals with Caponsacchi, placing him next 
 to Pompilia. 
 
 " And surely not so very much apart 
 Need I place thee, my warrior-priest . . . 
 Irregular, noble scapegrace — son the same ! 
 Faulty — and peradventure ours the fault 
 Who still misteach, mislead . . . 
 Nay, Caponsacchi, much I find amiss. 
 Blameworthy, punishable in this freak 
 Of thine, this youth prolonged though age was ripe, 
 This masquerade in sober day, with change 
 Of motley too — now hypocrite's-disguise. 
 Now fool's-costume . . . 
 I rather chronicle the healthy rage — 
 When the first moan broke from the martyr-maid 
 At that uncaging of the beasts — made bare 
 My athlete on the instant, gave such good 
 Great undisguised leap over post and pale 
 Right into the mid-cirque, free fighting-place. 
 There may have been rash stripping — every rag 
 Went to the winds — infringement manifold 
 Of laws prescribed pudicity, I fear, 
 In this impulsive and prompt self-display ! . . . 
 
 Undergo 
 The penalty I nowise dare relax — 
 Conventional chastisement and rebuke. 
 But for the outcome, the brave starry birth 
 
 293
 
 The Country of "The Ring and the Book" 
 
 Conciliating earth with all that cloud, 
 
 Thank heaven as I do ! Ay, such championship 
 
 Of God at first blush, such prompt cheery thud 
 
 Of glove on ground that answers ringingly 
 
 The challenge of the false knight — watch we long, 
 
 And wait we vainly for its gallant like 
 
 From those appointed to the service, sworn 
 
 His body-guard with pay and privilege . . . 
 
 In thought, word and deed, 
 How throughout all the warfare thou wast pure, 
 I find it easy to believe : and if 
 At any fateful moment of the strange 
 Adventure, the strong passion of that strait, 
 Fear and surprise, may have revealed too much — 
 As when a thunderous midnight, with black air 
 That burns, rain-drops that blister, breaks a spell, 
 Draws out the excessive virtue of some sheathed 
 Shut unsuspected flower that hoards and hides 
 Immensity of sweetness, so, perchance, 
 Might the surprise and fear release too much 
 The perfect beauty of the body and soul 
 Thou savedst in thy passion for God's sake, 
 He who is Pity : was the trial sore ? 
 Temptation sharp ? Thank God a second time ! 
 Why comes temptation but for man to meet 
 And master and make crouch beneath his foot, 
 And so be pedestalled in triumph ? . . . 
 Be glad thou has let light into the world. 
 Through that irregular breach o' the boundary — see 
 The same upon thy path and march assured, 
 Learning anew the use of soldiership. 
 Self-abnegation, freedom from all fear, 
 Loyalty to the life's end ! " 
 
 After he has disposed of the sordid, hideous, yet 
 
 beautiful story, the Pope begins to meditate aloud, as 
 
 old men will. He considers the mind of man, or 
 
 rather that more universal mind which, proceeding 
 
 from the Supreme Being, dominates and embraces all 
 
 294
 
 The Pope 
 
 things that live. He speaks of human perfection and 
 
 asks 
 
 " What lacks, then, of perfection fit for God 
 But just the instance which this tale suppHes 
 Of love without a Umit ? " 
 
 and explains that it is in its self-sacrifice that love 
 becomes unlimited. 
 
 All the events that he has talked about tend, he 
 thinks, in some unseen way to good, for life is but "a 
 training and a passage" and a place of probation, while 
 the earth is not man's goal but his starting place. 
 
 He becomes a little verbose and tedious and, to 
 some degree, inconsequent, as he drifts into the byways 
 of philosophical disquisition. He hears Euripides tell 
 of the guides that influenced human conduct before the 
 time of Christ. He answers him. He wonders how far 
 the existing laws that at the moment control human 
 conduct are absolute and eternal. 
 
 He returns once more to the matter in hand. He 
 discusses the various pleas urged on behalf of the miti- 
 gation of Guido's punishment and repudiates them 
 all. He declines to allow that Guido can claim the 
 enefit of clergy. He throws aside the appeal that is 
 founded upon mere mercy. He ignores the petition for 
 leniency on the ground that his own life is very near 
 its end. He disregards the world's opinion of his ver- 
 dict and is indifferent as to the bearing of his decision 
 upon his reputation as a Pope. 
 
 His last words are these : 
 
 " Enough, for I may die this very niglu, 
 And how should I dare die, this man let live? 
 Carry this forthwith to llie Governor I " 
 
 295
 
 ^i■^'^ 

 
 105.-PLAN OF ROME IN 1676. 
 Frviii the " PiJila dtUa R,-ma." ^y Cia. fUihiu J-Mo. 
 
 64. The Convent. Lc Scalene, in Ihe Via delU LunEa'a 
 388. Pala.ro Falconlerl m Ihe Via Giulia. 
 173. S. Maria della Morle in the Via Giulia. 
 "Caccece Noue " matl< Ihe new ptlsons in the Via Giulit 
 167. Church ol ihe Agoniizanti. Piux> Paiquino. 
 
 The Fountain, "II Moto," in the Plaiia Navona, is opposite The stn 
 
 Fig. 39B. <lel 
 
 The Vicolo Malpasso is to the right ol the words ■' Carcere 
 Noue" in the Via Giulia, and ia to the north o< that
 
 Appendix
 
 APPENDIX 
 
 CERTIFIED COPIES OF CERTAIN ENTRIES IN THE RE- 
 GISTERS OF THE PARISH CHURCH OF SAN LORENZO 
 IN LUCINA, ROME. 
 
 Obtained from the Archivio Generale del Vicariato. 
 From the Register of Baptisms 
 
 23 Julii 1680. 
 
 Ego Bathol. Minius C. M. Curatus baptizavi infantem natam die 
 17 huius ex D. Petro Comparini Rom. q"' Francisci Florentini et ex 
 D. Violante Perutii Romaiia fil. q"' Hiacinti Conjug. deg. in hac 
 Parochia, cui nomina imposita fuere Francisca Camilla Victoria Angela 
 Pompilia. Patrini fuerunt Rev'^^^ Dq : Jo^^ Bat'* Barberius q™ Ludo- 
 vici Rom. deg. in Parroch. S. Susannae et D. Barbara Canolli (?) De — 
 Fabiis deg. in hac Parochia. 
 
 In fede ecc. . 
 
 From the Register of Marriages. 
 September 1S93 Die 6. 
 
 Denuntiationibus praemissis tribus diebus festis de praecepto inter 
 Missar. solemnia, utr. 5^ 12^ et 19=^ Julii proximi, nulloque delato 
 legif^ impedimento, ego Ign^ Bonechi C. M. Curat, de licentia 111""' et 
 Rev""' D. Vicesgei. habita in scriptis per acta Martoli Notar : sub die 
 15 Aug'' proximi Dom. Guidum Franceschini fil. q'" D. Thomae 
 Patritium Aretinum ex parochia S. Nicolai in Arcione et Dn. Franciscam 
 Camillam Victoriam Angelam Pompiliam til. Petri Comparini pucllam 
 Rom : ex hac Parochia in Ecclesia de mane interrogavi, habitoque 
 mutuo eorum consensu per verba de praesenti solemniter matrimonio 
 coniunxi, iuxta ritum S.R.E. praesentibus et tcstibus ad id specialiter 
 admissis utr. nostris Fri'^=* Jo^ Bap*=» Pasquale et Josepho Massa. Ouibus 
 inde Sacra Commun'^ refectis benedixi, inter Missar. solenmia. 
 
 In fcdc ecc. . 
 
 299
 
 Appendix 
 
 From the Register of Deaths. 
 3 Gennaio 1698. 
 
 II Sig. Pietro Comparini Rom: in eta di anni 69 in circa, fig° del 
 q™ Francesco fiorentino marito della q"" Sig^ Violante Peruzzi Rom. 
 mori di alcune ferite nella casa dove abitava alia strada Paolina e fu 
 sep'° in q'^ n^ Chiesa. 
 
 In fede ecc. . 
 
 3 Gennaio 1698. 
 
 La Sig=^ Violante Peruzzi Rom. in eta di anni 66 in circa fig^ del 
 q™ Giacinto Rom. Moglie del q™ Sig. Pietro Comparini Rom. mori di 
 alcune ferite nella casa dove abitava alia strada Paolina et fu sep*^ in 
 q^ n^ Chiesa. 
 
 In fede ecc. 
 
 7 Gennaio 1698. 
 
 La Sig''^ Franca Pompilia Comparini Rom. in eta di anni dicisette 
 e mezzo fig^ del q™ Sig. Pietro Comparini Rom. Moglie del Sig. Guido 
 Franceschini d'Arezzo di Toscana mori nella Com"^ della S.M.C. nella 
 casa dove abitava alia strada paolina riceve tutti li S™' Sac'' et fu 
 sept^ in qa n^ Chiesa. 
 
 In fede ecc. 
 
 From the Archivio Generate del Vicariato. 
 
 May 26th, 1913. 
 
 A certificate to state that search for an entry of the baptism of the 
 child of Francesca Pompilia Comparini in or about the year 1698 had 
 been made in the Register of the Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina, 
 but that no such entry could be found. Further, that a search for a 
 like entry had been made in the Registers of the following adjoining 
 parishes, but without result : 
 
 Santa Maria del Popolo. 
 Sant' Andrea delle Fratte. 
 Santa Maria in Via Lata. 
 San Marcello. 
 Santa Maria in Via. 
 Sant' ApoUinare. 
 
 300
 
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 :^:^p 
 
 .t^^ 
 
 :C 
 
 f^Mi 
 
 ^IC 
 
 w 
 
 3»' 
 
 m 
 
 106.— PLAN Ol 
 
 //le " Pian/a delta } 
 
 rso. 
 
 ia Paolina.
 
 106— PLAN OF ROME IN 1676. 
 
 From the " Pianta delta Roma,, 
 305. Church of S. Maria del Popolo. 391 
 
 89. Church of Gesu e Maria in the Corso. 26( 
 
 29. Church of S. Atanasio in the Strada Paolina. 19; 
 
 293. Church of S. Lorenzo in Lucina. 
 
 b}- Gio. Ballista Falda. 
 391. Palazzo Ruspoli in the Corso. 
 268 The Ursuline Convent, Via Vitloria. 
 
 192. The Convent of S. Maria Maddalena delle Convertite in the Corso. 
 342. Palazzo Ambasciadore di Malta, Via Condotti. 
 iTIit h'ig. 34i it ill tin Via Boaa di Ltanth
 
 INDEX 
 
 Principal Persons 
 
 Comparini, the, 9, 245 
 PlETRO, 
 
 action against Guido, 30 
 age. 9 
 
 appearance, 235 
 character, 9, 245 
 estate, 9, 10, 19 
 murder of, 71, 276 
 register of death, 300 
 
 ViOLANTE 
 
 age, 10 
 
 appearance, 235 
 
 character, 10, 245 
 
 confession of, 28, 246, 248 
 
 leaves Arezzo, 26 
 
 life at Arezzo, 23, 247 
 
 murder of, 71, 276 
 
 Paolo, interview with, 16, 246 
 
 register of death, 300 
 
 Canon Conti, 39, 41, 259 
 
 Caponsacchi 
 
 age, 39 
 
 arrest at Castelnuovo, 50, 222, 
 
 267 
 character, 39, 42, 263, 286, 293 
 imprisonment, 52, 130, 225 
 PompiUa, first meeting \vith, 
 
 39, 265, 269 
 Pompilia, flight with, 44, 167, 
 
 171. 175. 191, 196, 216, 266 
 Pompilia, relation to, 42, 264, 
 
 293 
 sentence on, 57 
 trial of, 53, 263 
 
 30 
 
 Franceschini, the, 11, 249 
 
 Abate Paolo, 
 age, 1 1 
 
 character, 1 1 , 249 
 leaves Italy, 59 
 meeting with Violante, 1 6, 246 
 office, II, 12, no 
 
 Canon Girolamo, ii, 12, 30,35,249 
 
 GUIDO, 
 
 age. II 
 
 action against Pompilia, 61 
 appearance, 13, 237, 270 
 arrest of, 74, 1 50 
 Castelnuovo, arrives at, 48. 
 
 221, 267 
 character, 12, 270. 287. 291 
 execution of, 88, 138, 147, 282 
 flight of, 73, 150, 152, 155, 160, 
 
 277 
 imprisonment of, 75. 130, 137 
 marriage of, 20, 271, 289 
 murders the Comparini, 71,276 
 plot to murder Pompilia, 67, 
 
 274 
 poverty of, 14, 17, 25, 270 
 Rome, arrives at, 69, 276 
 trial of, 79. 283 
 
 Pompilia 
 
 appearance. 94, 237, 250 
 arrest of, 50, 222 
 birth, 10, 299 
 Caponsacchi, flies with, 44, 
 
 167, 171, 175, 176, 191, 190. 
 
 216, 254, 261
 
 Index 
 
 Pompilia {Continued) 
 
 Pompilia ^Coniinued) 
 
 Caponsacchi, first meeting 
 
 with, 39, 254 
 Caponsacchi, relation to, 43, 
 
 256, 259 
 Castehiuovo, arrives at, 46, 
 
 216, 255 
 charges against, 8 1 
 death of, 76, 105, 300 
 divorce pi-oceedings, 58 
 dowry, 19, 30, 245 
 imprisonment of, 52, 130, 
 
 225 
 letter from prison, 53, 229 
 
 life at Arezzo, 23, 35, 163, 166, 
 
 253. 290 
 love letters imputed to, 40, 55, 
 
 56,253 
 marriage of, 20, in, 123, 247, 
 
 271, 299 
 murder of, 71, 103, 276 
 parentage, 29, 252 
 Scalette.sent to the, 5 7, 1 26,2 5 5 
 sentence on, 57, 64 
 son born to, 66, 252 
 trial of, 53 
 vindication of, 93, 257, 292 
 
 Places 
 
 Arezzo.'ii. 23, 35,61, 161, 179 
 Canale Inn, 45, 167 
 San Clemente Gate, 44, 168 
 San Spirito Gate, 45, 162, 168, 
 
 170 
 Santa Maria della Pieve. 11, 
 
 162, 164 
 Torrione, 44, 169 
 
 Castelnuovo, 46, 48, 53, 217 
 
 posting- inn at, 46, 48, 219 
 Pretura, at, 52, 218, 225 
 Prison of, 50, 228 
 
 LaStorta, 73. i5S. iS6 
 
 Merluzza, 74, 158 
 
 Rome, 98, 103 106, 107, 139, 143 
 Agonizzanti, 91, 141 
 Campagna, 74, 154, 155, 157, 
 
 231 
 Carceri Nuove, 52, 75, 90, 130 
 
 convent of the Convertites, 93, 
 
 104 
 Corso, 93, 104, 105, 106, 143, 
 
 146 
 Gesu e Maria, 78, 105 
 Le Scalette, 56, 126 
 Piazza Colonna, 15, 91, 143 
 
 Rome 
 
 {Continued) 
 
 Piazza del Popolo, 70, -Jl, 88, 
 
 145 
 Piazza di Spagna, 97, 104, 108, 
 
 123 
 Piazza Navona, 91, 142 
 Piazza Pasquino, 91, 141 
 Ponte Milvio, 69, -Ji, 150, 152, 
 
 233 
 St. Atanasio, "jt, 105 
 S. Giovanni de' Fiorentini, 132 
 S. Lorenzo in Lucina, 20, 106, 
 
 118 
 S. Maria della Morte, 132 
 Strada Paolina, 70, loi, 102, 
 
 103, 146 
 Ursuline Convent, 114 
 Via Bocca di Leone, 1 1 1 
 Via Condotti, 12. 106, 109 
 Via del Babuino, 70, loi, 102, 
 
 146 
 
 Via del Governo Vecchio, 91, 
 
 140 
 Via del Pellegrino, 91, 139 
 ViaGiulia, 52, 130 
 Via Vittoria, 10, 26, 27, 66, 71, 
 
 97, loi, 114 
 Vicolo del Malpasso, 133, 139 
 
 302
 
 Index 
 
 Route of Flight, 171 
 
 Assisi, 186, 198, 202, 266 
 Bastia, 198 
 Borghettaccio, 231 
 Borghetto, 213 
 Camoscia, 45, 1S3 
 Castiglion Fiorcntino, 182 
 Civita Castellaua, 214 
 Cortona, 184 
 Foligno, 54, 171, 196, 205, 
 
 266 
 Lake Trasimene, 185 
 La Vene, 208 
 Magione, 191 
 Narni, 211 
 Otricoli, 212 
 Passignano, 188 
 Perugia, 191, 193, 266 
 
 Route of Flight {Continued^ 
 Ponte Felice, 2 1 3 
 Ponte S. Giovanni, 196 
 Prima Porta, 232 
 Rignano, 2 1 5 
 S. Maria degli Angeli, 197, 198, 
 
 199 
 Spello, 203 
 Spoleto, 208 
 Strettura, 209, 210 
 Terni, 2 1 1 
 Terontola, 185 
 Torricella, 189 
 Trevi, 207 
 Tuoro, 187, 188 
 Via Flamiilia, 147, 152, 154, 
 
 155.171.215 
 Vitiano, 67, 182 
 
 303
 
 Printed by 
 
 Cassell & Company, Limited, La Belle Sauvage 
 
 London, E.C.
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 GAYLORD 
 
 
 
 PRINTED IN USA.
 
 UC SOUTHERN RFGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
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