from long indulged self-will, from the impunities of too much wealth and authority, and from tyrannical and degrading notions of the Supreme Being. It is nothing but the old story of the Neros and Ezzelins in another shape. It is will driven mad by the power of indulging itself. As to the impossibility of the story, let those names and the writings of the elder dramatists answer all objections on that score. It is not the abstract crime that is the subject of consideration, but the excess proportioned to the excess of the will and to the bitterness of the contradiction. It is the enormity that proves the case. The unhappy patient is insane with self-will and with the fury of being opposed; and he will do the worst and most horrible things, precisely because he, as well as others, knows them to be the worst. His very outrages are testimonies to the beauty of virtue. He does not say this to himself. If he did, he would not do it, unless he were in a state of bodily as well as moral disease. But such is the instinct of his habits. The question then is, not how far we can loathe to hear about the frenzies of a fellow-creature, but how we can get at the causes of his frenzy, and help society to guard against them in all their shapes, great or small. We have thousands of Cencis among us in a lesser way,-petty home tyrants, sullen degraders of the deity they worship, impudent and callous men of the world, people that hate and would vex others in proportion as their merits mortify their own want of merit, tempers that work their wretched pleasure out of the pains of those they can worry, in short, all that come under the poet's description of the household fiend,"-all the spoiled children of power, high and low,the victims of indulged perversity and of an induced bad opinion of God and man.

Upon these grounds, after giving way to our first impulse of horror and indignation at the ruffian old man of the following story, we can pity him. But to the story itself.

The Manuscript was copied by an Italian gentleman from a library at Rome, and is entitled, An Account of the Death of the Cenci Family.

Francesco Cenci was the only son of a Roman lord, who had been Treasurer to Pope Pius the Fifth, and who left him a clear annual income of a hundred and sixty thousand scudi.* Besides this, our miserable inheritor of wealth and impunity married a rich woman. After the death of this lady, he took for his second wife Lucrezia Petroni, of a noble family in the same city. By the former, he had seven children. By the latter none.

Francesco hated these children. It is a dreadful thing to say so in so many words; but the cause is easily seen through. He led a life of the most odious profligacy, and was as full of sullenness as vice. His children were intelligent; their father's example disgusted them; and he saw, and could not bear this contrast. The account of his ill-treatment of them begins with his refusing his sons enough to live decently upon, while pursuing their studies at Salamanca. They were obliged to return to their miserable home; and here he treated them

* We know not the precise value of this coin, which does not appear among the current money of Italy: nor can we refer to books for it at this moment. But there were scudi of gold; and Cenci's fortune was accounted enormous.

so much worse, denying them even common food and clothing, that they applied in despair to the Pope, who made him allow them a sepȧrate provision, with which they retired to another dwelling. Previously to this period, Cenci had been convicted of a crime twice over, and been suffered to compound for it with the Pope in two several sums of a hundred thousand scudi, nearly two thirds of his annual income. His third mortal crime now took place, and the sons by this time were so embittered by the constant wretchedness and infamy in which he kept his family, that they entreated the Sovereign Pontiff to put an end to his life and villainies at once. The Pope, says the narrative, was inclined to give him the death he merited, but not at the request of his own offspring, and for the third time he allowed him to make his usual composition of a hundred thousand scudi.

The wretched man now hated his children worse then ever, as he had some better reason to do. But not content with cursing his sons, he visited his two daughters with blows, and otherwise so trampled upon their feelings, that not being able to bear his treatment longer, the elder one applied to the Pope, begging him either to marry her according to his discretion, or to put her in a nunnery. The Pope took pity on the unhappy girl, and married her to a gentleman of rank named Carlo Gabrielli, making the father at the same time give her a suitable dowry.

This event so gnawed into Cenci's mind, that fearing his other daughter would follow her sister's example when she grew old enough, he cast in his diabolical thoughts how he might prevent it most assuredly, short of taking away her life. It has been thought by some, that Mr. Shelley's tragedy must be an exaggeration. The fact is, that the historical narrative is much worse. The details of his conduct fill up the poet's outline with horrors not to be thought of. We cannot repeat what this mad and grey-headed horror (for he was now an old man) both preached and practised in order to break down his daughter's virtues as well as heart; but he first kept her locked up in a solitary apartment, where none saw her but himself, and where he brought her stripes as well as food: and his last action

About this period the terrible old man received news of the death of two of his sons, Rocco and Cristofero, who by some means or other both came to violent ends. He welcomed it with delight, saying that nothing could make him happier but to hear the same thing of all his children; and that whenever the last should die, he would keep open house to all comers for joy. To shew his hatred the more openly, he would not give the least pittance towards interring them.

Beatrice was now beyond despair. She collected her thoughts, and sent off a letter to the Pope which the author of the Manuscript describes as excellently written, Let us stop here a moment, to speak more particularly of the extraordinary girl." Beatrice," says the close of the Narrative," was of a make rather large then small. Her complexion was fair. She had two dimples in her cheeks, which added to the beauty of her countenance especially when she smiled, and gave it a grace that enchanted all who saw her. Her hair was like threads of gold; and because it was very long, she used to fasten it up; but when she let it flow loosely, the wavy splendour of it was

astonishing. She had blue eyes, very pleasing, of a sprightliness mixed with dignity: and in addition to all these graces, her conversation, as well as all that she did, had a spirit in it, and a sparkling polish (un brio signorile) which made every one in love with her. She was then under twenty years of age."

The letter to the Pope had no effect. The MS. says that it was found in the office of the Secretary of Memorials; but supposes that it never could have been laid before his Holiness. The reader may be allowed, under all the circumstances to suspect otherwise. Cenci was still rich and powerful; and there is no knowing how many thousands of scudi he may have had to pay now.

What renders the conduct of the Pope the more suspicious, is that the criminal somehow or other got intelligence of the application. It made him more furious then ever; and besides locking up his daughter, he incarcerated in the same manner, and apparently in the same room, his wife her mother-in-law, who had already drunk largely of the family cup of bitterness. Finding every avenue of relief shut against them, and taught by the old man himself, as well as their own awful thoughts, to forego the ties of relationship, they finally resolved upon dispatching him.

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There was a visitor in the Cenci Palace, a young prelate of the name of Guerra, who, says the MS. was a young man of an agreeable presence, well-bred, and one that easily accommodated himself to any proposal, good or bad." He was well acquainted with the wickedness of Cenci, who hated him for the attentions he paid his family; so that he used to come there at such times only as he knew the old man had gone out. How he gained admittance to the wife and daughter in the present instance does not appear; but he did; and finding their miseries augmented at every visit, his interest in their wretched state increased in proportion. The MS. says that he was not without a love for Beatrice; but it does not appear that she returned it. Be this as it may, having gathered their intentions about the old man from some words which Beatrice let fall, he not only approved them, but declared his willingness to co-operate in the catastrophe. The design was then communicated to Giacomo, one of her brothers, who instantly fell in with it. He had felt his fathers ill treatment still more then the rest of his sons, having a wife and children whom the stipend assigned him by the Pope was insufficient to support.

Cenci had taken for the summer residence of himself and his family a castle called the Rock of Petrella. The first plan of the conspirators was to hire a banditti to surprise and kill him in his way thither. The banditti were hired accordingly, but the notice of Cenci's coming was given them too late, and he got into the Castle. Neither did they lurk in the thicket about the place to any purpose; for being now seventy years of age, (and probably aware of the state of the neighbourhood, no unusual thing in those times) he never stirred out of doors. It was therefore determined to put him to death in the castle. For this purpose, they hired two of his vassals, named Marzio and Olimpio, who either had or thought they had cause of offence with him. The reward offered for the deed was a thousand scudi, one third to be paid beforehand by Monsignor Guerra, and the remainder by the ladies when all

was over. The assassins were introduced into the Rock on the 8th of September 1598; "but as it happened to be the day of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin, Signora Lucrezia restrained by her veneration for that solemn anniversary, put off the execution, with the consent of her daughter-in-law, till the day following." On the evening of that day, an opiate was put into Cenci's drink. He went to bed, and fell into a profound sleep; and at midnight, Beatrice herself took the assassins into his chamber. Having told them what to do, she retired, into an anti-room where her mother was waiting. In a little while, the assasins returned, and said that their compassion had overcome them, and that they could not conquer their repugnance to kill in cold blood, a miserable old man who was sleeping. Beatrice heard: them with scorn and indignation. "If you are afraid," said she, "to put to death a man in his sleep, I, myself, will kill my father; but your own lives shall not have long to run." The men intimidated at this, returned to the chamber. In a little time they came back. The deed was done. The assassins received the rest of their reward; and to Marzio (for what reason does not appear; probably because he had been the least backward) Beatrice gave a mantle laced with gold. The body was thrown over a terrace into the garden, so that it might seem to have fallen by accident, while the old man was moving about in the night-time.

The women next day affected great sorrow. A sumptuous burial was given to the deceased; and the family, after a little stay, returned to Rome, where they are described as living in tranquillity for some time. In the mean while, the youngest son of Cenci died, so that there remained but two, Giacomo and Bernardo.

The Court of Naples however, whose interference at this point of time is not accounted for, unless the banditti, who were from that kingdom, had let the secret transpire, sent a commissioner to make enquiries into the nature of Cenci's death. The usual petty circumstances of suspicion came out, and were laid before the Court of Rome; yet the latter took no further steps for several months. Guerra, who was afraid that the assassins might turn evidence, hired others to get them out of the way; but Marzio escaped. He got imprisoned however at Naples; and having made an ample confession, was sent to Rome. Here he was confronted with the Cenci, who denied all that he said, particularly Beatrice. Her extraordinary firmness and presence of mind is described as so astonishing the man, that he retracted every thing he had deposed at Naples; and rather than confess, chose to expire under the torment.

The law being now perplexed how to proceed, the Cenci were transferred to the Castle, where they lived uninterruptedly for several months. Unluckily, one of the bravoes who had killed Olimpio was taken up, and confessed that he had been employed by Monsignor Guerra. Timely notice, by some means or other, was given to the bishop, and he escaped. He had difficulty in doing so, because he was a remarkable looking man with a fair face and hair, and the officers were on the alert: but he contrived it. He changed clothes with a coal-man, smutted his face and shaved his head, and driving two, asses before him, with an onion and a piece of bread in his hand, passed

out of the city under their very eyes. He encountered with equal good luck the officers who were on the look out in the neighbourhood; and got safe into another country.

The flight of the prelate however, together with the confession of Olimpio's murderer, brought the hand of the law heavily upon the Cenci, They were now put to the torture. The courage of the men was prostrated at once (" cederono vilmente," says the Manuscript), and they remained convicted. "Signora Lucrezia, a woman of fifty years of age and large in person, not being able to resist the Torment of the Cord-(Here the Original is wanting)—But not one single criminating word," continues the document, "either by fair means or foul, by threats or by tortures, could be got out of the lips of Beatrice. Her vivacity and eloquence confounded even the judges." One of them, Signor Ulisse Morcati, represented the matter to the Pope, who suspected him of having been overcome by the sufferer's beauty, and appointed another in his room. The new judge ordered a fresh torture to be applied, called the Torture of the Hair; and when she was tied up ready for it, the rest of the family were brought in and entreated her to confess. At first she refused. "You would all die then," said she," and extinguish our honour and our house? This ought not to be; but since it pleases you, so be it." She then turned to the officers to let her loose, and asked for copies of the several examinations; adding, "What I should confess, I will confess-what I should approve, I will approve :what I should deny, I will deny." After this fashion, says the MS., she stood convicted, though she did not confess.

Pro

The affair rested here again in a very extraordinary manner. bably (though the MS. is far from hinting such a thing) some money matters were under the consideration of his Holiness,-deep questions as to the difference of fines and confiscations. The parties were separated from each other for five months. They were then allowed to meet one day at dinner; and then again they were divided. At length, the Holy Father, after having seen them all confronted, and examined the confession, sentenced them to be drawn at the cart's-tail and beheaded.

Great interest was made, by princes and cardinals, for allowing the criminals a legal defence. The Pope, who had shewn himself hostile from the first, answered these requests with severity, and asked, "what defence Cenci had, when he was so barbarously murdered in his sleep." At last he yielded the point, and gave them five-andtwenty days to look about them. The most eminent advocates in Rome prepared the defence, and appeared before him at the proper time with their respective papers. The first that spoke was impatiently interrupted by his Holiness, who said he was astonished to find in Rome children so barbarous as to kill their father, and advocates so bold as to defend such a villainy. At these words all the counsel were struck dumb, with the exception of the Advocate Tarrinacci, who replied, "Holy Father, we are not here at your feet to defend the brutality of the deed itself, but to save the lives of such as may be innocent nevertheless, if your Holiness will listen to us." The Pope, upon this, listened patiently for four hours. Tarinacci's defence proceeded