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THE POEMS OF ROBERT BROWNING
The Ring and the Book, published serially in 1868–9, is one of the most
daring and innovative poems in the English language. The story is based
on the trial of an Italian nobleman, Guido Franceschini, for the murder of
his wife Pompilia in Rome in 1698.
Browning’s discovery of the ‘old yellow book’, a bundle of legal
documents and letters relating to the trial, on a second-hand market stall
in Florence, sparked an imaginative engagement with this sordid tale of
domestic cruelty, adultery, and greed which grew, through four years of
arduous labour, into an epic peopled not by gods and warriors but by
concrete, recognisably human beings. Fusing the technique of the dramatic
monologue, the form he had made his own, with the grandeur of classical
epic and the vivid realism of the modern novel, Browning created a unique
hybrid form that allowed him not only to bring to life an entire historical
period but also to reflect on the process of artistic creation itself—the
forging of the golden ‘ring’ of the poem from the ‘pure crude fact’ of its
historical original.
This edition, comprising volumes 5 and 6 in the acclaimed Longman
Annotated English Poets edition of Browning’s poems, does full justice to
the scope and depth of Browning’s achievement. The headnote in volume
5 gives an authoritative account of the poem’s composition, publication,
sources, and reception, making use of hitherto unpublished letters and
textual material. In addition to giving readers help, where needed, with
historical and linguistic comprehension, the notes track Browning’s
formidable range of allusion, from the most erudite to the most vulgar.
The appendices in volume 6 present a selection from the original sources,
a list of variants from extant proofs, and key passages from Browning’s
fascinating and revealing correspondence with one of the earliest readers
of the poem, Julia Wedgwood. The aim is to enable readers not just to
understand the poem as an object of study, but to take pleasure in its
abounding intellectual and emotional energies.
John Woolford is Emeritus Professor of Nineteenth-Century Literature

and Culture at the University of Manchester and Honorary Research Fellow
at the University of Sheffield, UK.
Daniel Karlin is Emeritus Professor of English Literature at the University

of Bristol, UK, and a Fellow of the British Academy.
Joseph Phelan is Professor of Nineteenth-Century Literature at De

Montfort University, UK.
LONGMAN ANNOTATED ENGLISH POETS
General Editors: Paul Hammond, David Hopkins and Michael Rossington
Previous General Editors: F. W. Bateson and John Barnard
The Poems of Alexander Pope, Volume Three

Edited by Valerie Rumbold
The Complete Poems of John Donne

Edited by Robin Robbins
Robert Browning: Selected Poems

Edited by John Woolford, Daniel Karlin and Joseph Phelan
The Complete Poems of Shakespeare

Edited by Cathy Shrank and Raphael Lyne
The Poems of Alexander Pope, Volume One

Edited by Julian Ferraro and Paul Baines
The Poems of W. B. Yeats: Volume One: 1882–1889

Edited by Peter McDonald
The Poems of W. B. Yeats: Volume Two: 1890–1898

Edited by Peter McDonald
The Poems of Ben Jonson

Edited by Tom Cain and Ruth Connolly
The Poems of Robert Browning: Volume V

The Ring and the Book, Books 1–6
The Poems of Robert Browning Volume VI

For more information about the series, please visit: www.routledge.com/Longman-

Annotated-English-Poets/book-series/LAEP
THE POEMS OF
ROBERT BROWNING
edited by
JOHN WOOLFORD
DANIEL KARLIN
and
JOSEPH PHELAN
– Volume V –
Cover image: Robert Browning reading The Ring and the Book at Naworth
Castle, 19 September 1869. Drawing by William Wetmore Story. Reproduced
by kind permission of the Morgan Library and Museum, New York.
First published 2022

by Routledge
4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN
and by Routledge
605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158
Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business
© 2022 John Woolford, Daniel Karlin and Joseph Phelan
The right of John Woolford, Daniel Karlin and Joseph Phelan to be identified
as authors of the editorial material has been asserted in accordance with
sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or
utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now
known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in
any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing
from the publishers.
Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or
registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation
without intent to infringe.
British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
A catalog record for this book has been requested
ISBN: 978-1-405-84597-7 (hbk)
ISBN: 978-1-032-16044-3 (pbk)
ISBN: 978-1-315-76121-3 (ebk)
DOI: 10.4324/9781315761213
Typeset in Minion
by Apex CoVantage, LLC
Frontispiece. Title page of the ‘old yellow book’, the source for the poem; for
Browning’s translation, see i 120–31 (p. 161). Reproduced by kind permis-
sion of the Master and Fellows of Balliol College.
Contents
Note by the General Editors viii

Acknowledgmentsix
List of illustrations xi
Abbreviations and references xii
THE RING AND THE BOOK1

HEADNOTE 1
Book I The Ring and the Book 151
Book II Half-Rome 235
Book III The Other Half-Rome 327
Book IV Tertium Quid 419
Book V Count Guido Franceschini 519
Book VI Giuseppe Caponsacchi 623
Note by the General Editors
The Longman Annotated English Poets series was launched in 1965 with
the publication of Kenneth Allott’s edition of The Poems of Matthew
Arnold. F. W. Bateson wrote then that the ‘new series is the first designed
to provide university students and teachers, and the general reader with
complete and fully annotated editions of the major English poets’. That
remains the aim of the series, and Bateson’s original vision of its policy
remains essentially the same. Its ‘concern is primarily with the meaning of
the extant texts in their various contexts’.
Accordingly, the annotation which the various editors provide ranges
from the glossing of obscure words and references to the evocation of the
cultural, social, and political contexts within which the poems were cre-
ated and first received. The editions draw on recent scholarship but also
embody the fruits of the editors’ own new research. The aim, in so far as
this is possible through the medium of editorial annotation, is to place
the modern reader in a position which approximates that enjoyed by the
poems’ first audience.
The treatment of the text has varied pragmatically from edition to edi-
tion; some have provided modernised texts where the original conventions
of spelling and punctuation were likely to create problems for a reader,
whereas others retain the original accidentals—the spelling, punctuation,
italics, and capitals.
This edition of The Ring and the Book, comprising the fifth and sixth vol-
umes of the Longman edition of The Poems of Browning, provides readers
with a scrupulously prepared text of one of the most original long poems of
the Victorian period. Its genesis lay in Browning’s discovery of documents
connected with the trial in 1698 of Guido Franceschini and his accom-
plices for the murder of his wife. The editors’ detailed annotation includes
glosses of difficult words and syntax, while the substantial Headnote and
Appendices provide a wealth of information about the poem’s biographical
and historical contexts, its literary sources, and contemporary reception.
Acknowledgments
For permission to consult, and quote from, manuscripts of poems, letters,

and other materials we wish to thank Sir John Murray and the follow-
ing institutions: Armstrong Browning Library, Baylor University, Waco,
TX; Balliol College, Oxford; the British Library; Huntington Library, San
Marino, CA; Morgan Library, New York; National Library of Scotland
(Smith, Elder archive); New York Public Library (Henry W. and Albert
A. Berg Collection); Yale University Library, New Haven, CN (Beinecke
Library).
We owe a particular debt of gratitude to the Armstrong Browning
Library: Jennifer Borderud, the current Director, together with her pre-
decessors, and specialist curators and members of staff, have helped us
unfailingly. We are also grateful to the staff of the Department of Rare
Books and Manuscripts at the British Library, where the manuscript of The
Ring and the Book is housed, and of the library of Balliol College, Oxford,
which holds the ‘old yellow book’ from which the poem sprang. We are
very grateful to Professor Judith Hawley, of Royal Holloway University
of London, and Professor Henry Woudhuysen, Rector of Lincoln College
Oxford, for checking variants in copies of the first edition of the poem
in the British Library and Oxford (Bodleian Library, Balliol College, and
Wadham College) when the editors were unable to do so themselves.
For generous institutional support, including research leave and finan-
cial assistance with research trips and materials, we thank De Montfort
University and the University of Bristol. Joseph Phelan was A. Bartlett
Giamatti Fellow at the Beinecke Library, Yale, in 2014. John Woolford
and Joseph Phelan benefited from Visting Fellowships at the Armstrong
Browning Library in 2015. The British Academy’s Small Research Grant
funded research trips to the British Library and the National Library of
Scotland, and enabled the editors to make use of the considerable exper-
tise of Dr David Money, classical scholar and philologist and Research
Associate at Wolfson College, Cambridge, who undertook to review the
translations of the law-Latin found in the ‘old yellow book’, and Browning’s
own translations in the poem. His help was invaluable; any errors or omis-
sions are our responsibility. The same goes for the many insights into
Roman Catholic history, scripture and liturgy of the period given to us
by the art historian and literary scholar Bruce Redford, and by the music
scholar Dennis Crowley, formerly of Groton School, MA.
x Acknowledgments
The published volumes of The Brownings’ Correspondence, edited by

Philip Kelley and others over many years, continue to be an indispensable
resource; we remain deeply grateful to the editor-in-chief, Philip Kelley,
who has given us access to many unpublished letters and documents, and
has shared his encyclopaedic knowledge of the Brownings’ biographical
and historical context. Michael Meredith’s archival research marked a
watershed in the scholarly history of The Ring and the Book, and we are
greatly in his debt, even where we have taken issue with some of his con-
clusions. We likewise acknowledge the work of previous and current edi-
tors of The Ring and the Book, making special mention of Richard Altick’s
edition of the poem (originally published in the Penguin Poetry Library
series, 1971) and the Oxford English Texts edition, edited by Stefan Hawlin
and Tim Burnett. The disagreements we occasionally note are more than
matched by the many instances in which we have benefited from their
work.
Over the course of a decade we have consulted (not to say importuned)
many colleagues, friends, and family members for advice on particular
aspects of the poem—from the broadest outlines of its historical canvas
to the smallest details of punctuation and syntax. We cannot thank them
all individually, but we are conscious that without their knowledge and
encouragement this edition would be considerably poorer.
Illustrations
Frontispiece. Title page of the ‘old yellow book’, the source

for the poem; for Browning’s translation, see i 120–31 (p. 161).
Reproduced by kind permission of the Master and Fellows
of Balliol College. v
Plate 1. Guido Franceschini. Engraving from a drawing made
on the day of his execution. The inscription reads: ‘Portrait of
the unfortunate Guido Franceschini, who was beheaded in
Rome on 22 February 1698’. Frontispiece to vol. X of
Browning’s Poetical Works (London, 1888–9).
Plate 2(a). Church of San Lorenzo in Lucina, Rome.
Photograph c. 1911, from a survey of Roman monuments.
Wikimedia Commons.
Plate 2(b). Carved lion by the door of the church of
San Lorenzo. See vii 21–5 (p. 731). Photograph by
Sir William Treves, in The Country of the Ring and the Book
(London, 1913), pl. 6.
Plate 3. First page of the manuscript of The Ring and the Book.
BL Add. MS. 43485. Reproduced by permission of the
British Library.
Abbreviations and references
B. Robert Browning
EBB. Elizabeth Barrett Browning
corr. corrected
cp. compare
edn. edition
l.c., u.c. lower case, upper case
publ. published
repr. reprinted
rev. revision or revised
transl. translated (by)
For books, the place of publication is London unless otherwise indicated.
I. Editions of The Ring and the Book

In our annotation we refer to the poem as Ring. MS (in italic) refers to the
manuscript of the poem; MS (roman) to any other manuscript (e.g. ‘the
MS of this poem is in EBB.’s hand’).
(a) Editions publ. in B.’s lifetime

1868–9 The Ring and the Book, 4 vols. (Smith, Elder, 1868–9);
the first British edition.
1st Am. The Ring and the Book, 2 vols. (Boston: Fields, Osgood,
1869); the first American edition.
1872 The Ring and the Book, 4 vols. (Smith, Elder, 1872); the
second British edition, though vols. 3 and 4 were not
revised until 1882–3; see headnote, p. 3.
1888 The Poetical Works of Robert Browning, 16 vols. (Smith,
Elder, 1888–9); Ring occupies vols. viii, ix, and x.
1889 The Poetical Works of Robert Browning, 16 vols. (Smith,
Elder, 1889); re-issue of 1888; vols. i–x contain some
authorial variants.
(b) Editions publ. after B.’s death

Florentine The Complete Works of Robert Browning, ed. Char-
lotte Porter and Helen A. Clarke, 12 vols. (New York:
Abbreviations and references xiii
Thomas Y. Crowell, 1898); Ring occupies vols. vi–vii.

Ohio The Complete Works of Robert Browning, 17 vols. (Ath-
ens, OH: Ohio University Press, and Waco, TX: Baylor
University, 1969–1985); Ring (ed. Roma A. King, Jr)
occupies vols. vii–ix.
Oxford The Poetical Works of Robert Browning (Oxford: Ox-
ford University Press, 1983 [Oxford English Texts]);
Ring (ed. Stefan Hawlin and Tim Burnett) occupies
vols. vii–ix.
Altick The Ring and the Book, ed. Richard D. Altick (Harmonds-
worth: Penguin Books, 1971 [Penguin English Poets]).
II. Browning’s works other than The Ring and the Book
Titles are in italic for long poems published as a single volume (Paracelsus,
Sordello), and in quotation marks for shorter poems (‘De Gustibus’, ‘A
Likeness’). References to poems in the headnote and notes are either com-
plete (e.g. ‘Mesmerism’, ‘Confessions’) or use the first word or phrase of
the title, omitting the definite article and apostrophes (e.g. ‘Andrea’ for
‘Andrea del Sarto’, Balaustion for Balaustion’s Adventure).
Where a poem has been published in a previous volume of our edition,
its location is given by volume and page number following the line refer-
ence. For example:
See ‘Bishop Blougram’ 126 (III 167) and Balaustion 138 (IV 343).
The following short titles are used for volumes of shorter works included
in vols. I–IV:
B&P Bells and Pomegranates [series title: see Appendix B,

II 470]
CE & ED Christmas-Eve and Easter-Day (1850)
DL Dramatic Lyrics (1842)
DP Dramatis Personae (1864)
DR & L Dramatic Romances and Lyrics (1845)
M&W Men and Women, 2 vols., (Chapman and Hall, 1855)
Poems not published in vols. I–IV (which cover Browning’s poems to 1871)
are referred to by title and date of publication, followed by line references to the
first edition text. Longer poems published after 1871 are referred to by short
title (in italic) and date, as listed later. In the case of shorter poems, the date of
publication provides the key to the volume in which the poem was published,
xiv Abbreviations and references
as listed later. One case in particular requires mentioning. B.’s 1887 collection,
Parleyings with Certain People of Importance in Their Day, contains a number of
poems which are headed ‘With’, the word ‘Parleying’ being understood: ‘With
Bernard de Mandeville’, ‘With George Bubb Dodington’, ‘With Christopher
Smart’, etc. We omit the preposition in our references to these poems.
Unpublished poems after 1871 are cited from Robert Browning: The
Poems, 2 vols., ed. John Pettigrew, supplemented and completed by Thomas
J. Collins (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1981 [Penguin English Poets]).
We retain the short title Penguin, which was used in previous vols. of our
edition, for this edition, which contains B.’s poems other than Ring.
(a) Longer works after 1871 (all publ. by Smith, Elder)

Fifine at the Fair, 1872
Red Cotton Night-Cap Country, 1873
The Inn Album, 1875
Aristophanes’ Apology, Including a Transcript from Euripides, Being the
Last Adventure of Balaustion, 1875
The Agamemnon of Æschylus, 1877
La Saisiaz and The Two Poets of Croisic, 1878 [single volume containing two
long poems]
(b) Volumes of shorter poems after

1871 (all publ. by Smith, Elder)
1876 Pacchiarotto and How He Worked in Distemper: with
Other Poems
1879 Dramatic Idyls [DI]
1880 Dramatic Idyls, Second Series [DI2]
1883 Ferishtah’s Fancies
1884 Jocoseria
1887 Parleyings with Certain People of Importance in Their
Day [etc.]
1889 Asolando: Fancies and Facts
III. Letters (incl. those of Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

American Friends Browning to His American Friends: Letters between the
Brownings, the Storys and James Russell Lowell 1841–
Abbreviations and references xv
1890, ed. G. R. Hudson (1965)

Correspondence The Brownings’ Correspondence, ed. P. Kelley, R. Hud-
son, S. Lewis and E. Hagan (Winfield, KS, 1984–)
Dearest Isa Dearest Isa: Robert Browning’s Letters to Isabella
Blagden, ed. E. C. McAleer (Austin, TX and Edin-
burgh, 1951)
EBB to Arabella The Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning to Her
Sister Arabella, 2 vols., ed. S. Lewis (Winfield, KS
2002)
Florentine Friends Florentine Friends: The Letters of Elizabeth Barrett
Browning and Robert Browning to Isa Blagden 1850–
1861, ed. P. Kelley and S. Donaldson (Winfield, KS and
Waco, TX, 2009)
LH Letters of Robert Browning Collected by Thomas J. Wise,
ed. T. L. Hood (1933)
Learned Lady Learned Lady: Letters from Robert Browning to
Mrs Thomas Fitzgerald 1876–1889, ed. E. C. McAleer
(Cambridge, MA 1966)
Letters of EBB The Letters of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, ed. F. G.
Kenyon, 2 vols. (1897)
New Letters New Letters of Robert Browning, ed. W. C. DeVane and
K. L. Knickerbocker (1951)
RB & JW Robert Browning and Julia Wedgwood: A Broken
Friendship as Revealed in their Letters, ed. R. Curle
(1937); text corr. from Sue Brown, ‘Robert Brown-
ing and Julia Wedgwood: the Unpublished Corres
pondence’, Journal of Browning Studies iii (2012)
29–52
Trumpeter Browning’s Trumpeter: The Correspondence of Robert
Browning and Frederick J. Furnivall 1872–1889, ed. W.
S. Peterson (Washington, DC 1979)
IV. General
ABL Armstrong Browning Library (Baylor University,
Waco, Texas)
Allingham William Allingham’s Diary, ed. G. Grigson (1967)
Berg Henry W. and Albert A. Berg Collection, New York
Public Library
Bibliography L. N. Broughton, C. S. Northrup, and R. B. Pearsall,
xvi Abbreviations and references
Robert Browning: A Bibliography 1830–1950 (Ithaca,

NY, 1953) [Cornell Studies in English xxxix]
BL British Library
Casanatense Pamphlet on the Franceschini trial, in volume entitled
Varii successi curiosi e degni di esser considerate [Vari-
ous curious events worthy of being considered], Misc.
Ms. 2037, Royal Casanatense Library, Rome.
Collections P. Kelley and B. A. Coley, The Browning Collections:
A Reconstruction with Other Memorabilia (Winfield,
KS, 1984); online edn.
www.browningguide.org/collections
Cook A. K. Cook, A Commentary upon Browning’s The Ring
and the Book (Oxford, 1920)
Corrigan Curious Annals: New Documents Relating to Browning’s
Roman Murder Story, transl. and ed. Beatrice Corrigan
(Toronto, 1956)
Fantozzi Federigo Fantozzi, Nuova Guida ovvero Descrizione
Storico-Artistico-Critica della Città e Contorni di
Firenze (Firenze, 1843)
Farulli Abate Pietro Farulli, Annali overo Notizie Istoriche del-
la Città di Arezzo in Toscana [Annals or Historical Re-
ports on the city of Arezzo in Tuscany] (Foligno, 1717)
Gest John Marshall Gest, The Old Yellow Book, Source of
Browning’s The Ring and the Book: a New Translation
with Explanatory Notes and Critical Chapters upon the
Poem and its Source (Philadelphia, 1927)
Griffin and W. H. Griffin and H. C. Minchin, The Life of Robert
Minchin Browning, 3rd edn. (1938)
Huntington The Huntington Library, Pasadena, CA
J. Samuel Johnson, A Dictionary of the English Language,
1st edn. (1755)
Lemprière J. Lemprière, A Classical Dictionary, 12th edn. (1823)
LION Literature Online (ProQuest database)
Morgan Morgan Library, New York (formerly the Pierpont
Morgan Library)
ODP Oxford Dictionary of Proverbs (online edn.)
OED Oxford English Dictionary (online edn.)
Orr Handbook Mrs [Alexandra Sutherland] Orr, A Handbook to the
Works of Robert Browning, 7th edn. (1896)
Orr Life Mrs [Alexandra Sutherland] Orr, Life and Letters of
Robert Browning (1891; repr. with revs., 1908)
OYB Charles W. Hodell, The Old Yellow Book, source of
Abbreviations and references xvii
Browning’s The Ring and the Book, in complete photo-

reproduction, with translation, essay, and notes, 2nd
edn. (Carnegie Institute of Washington, 1916)
PMLA Publications of the Modern Language Association of
America
PL John Milton, Paradise Lost
Secondary Source Morte dell’ Uxoricida Guido Franceschini Decapitato
[The Death of the Wife-Murderer Guido Franceschini,
by Beheading] in Miscellanies of the Philobiblon Society
xii (1868–9); repr. in this edn., Appendix B.
Story William Wetmore Story, Roba di Roma, 3rd edn.
(1864)
Thomas Charles Flint Thomas, Art and Architecture in the Po-
etry of Robert Browning (Troy, NY, 1991)
Treves Sir Frederick Treves, The Country of “The Ring and the
Book” (1913)
The Bible is cited from the King James or Authorized Version (1611),
in modern spelling. Names of books in the New Testament are given in
the standard abbreviated forms, e.g. Matthew = The Gospel according to
Saint Matthew, 1 Corinthians = The First Epistle of Paul the Apostle to the
Corinthians, 1 Peter = The First Epistle General of Peter, etc.
Greek and Roman works are cited, with a few exceptions, from the cur-
rent Loeb Classical Library editions, publ. by Harvard University Press;
online texts have been used where available. The exceptions concern
instances where B.’s phrasing has clearly been influenced by an older trans-
lation (e.g. Pope’s Homer).
Shakespeare’s plays and poems are cited from the Riverside Edition,
2nd edn., ed. G. Blakemore Evans et al. (New York 1997).
Paradise Lost is cited from the Longman Annotated English Poets edi-
tion, 2nd edn., ed. Alastair Fowler (Harlow, 1998).
EBB.’s poems are cited from The Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning,
ed. Sandra Donaldon et al., 5 vols. (Pickering & Chatto, 2010).
THE RING AND THE BOOK
Headnote
I Text and publication 3
II Composition and date 4
(i) The date of B.’s acquisition of the ‘old yellow book’ 5
(ii) B.’s decision to write a poem based on OYB 8
(iii) Phases of composition 9
(iv) Final phase of composition 12
(v) The title 14
(vi) Selling the poem: Ring as a commercial venture 15
III The manuscript 18
(i) Spelling 20
(ii) Punctuation 22
(iii) Paragraphing 23
(iv) Speech-marks 23
(v) Book iv 24
(vi) Internal revision in MS 25
(a) Running revisions 26
(b) Second-phase revisions 27
IV Proofs and the first American edition 29
(i) Proofs 29
(ii) The first American edition 30
V Revision 33
(i) Variants between MS and 1868–9 33
(ii) Variants after 1868–9 34
(iii) Revisions in B.’s presentation copy of 1872 35
(iv) Revisions not adopted by B 37
VI Biographical context 38
(i) EBB 38
(ii) Robert Wiedemann Barrett Browning (‘Pen’) 39
(iii) The ‘Ring’ 42
VII The plot of the poem 45
VIII Historical context 48
(i) The legal framework of the events 48
(ii) Guido’s trial 53
(iii) Rome and Tuscany in the late seventeenth century 56
(iv) Parallels with Italy in the 1860s 57
2 THE RING AND THE BOOK
(v) Italy in B.’s life and work 58

(vi) The Roman Catholic Church and the Papacy 60
(vii) Molinism 65
(viii) Contemporary British themes 68
(a) Social class 68
(b) The Church and the Papacy 69
(c) Social attitudes (prostitution, infanticide, marriage,
pauperism) 70
IX Documentary and non-fictional sources 71
(i) The ‘old yellow book’ 71
(ii) The ‘Secondary Source’ 74
(iii) Other documentary and non-fictional sources 74
(a) William Cartwright and the ‘Casanatense’ pamphlet 74
(b) W. W. Story, Roba di Roma, 3rd edn.
(London, 1864) 75
(c) Abate Pietro Farulli, Annali 77
(d) Leopold von Ranke, History of the Popes 77
(e) Robert Browning Sr’s ‘Marozia’ notebooks 78
(f) Prospero Farinacci, Praxis et theorica criminalis 79
(g) Augustus De Morgan, The Book of Almanacs 80
(h) Historia Jeschuae Nazareni 80
X Literary sources and contexts 81
(i) P. B. Shelley, The Cenci (1819) 81
(ii) George Eliot, Romola (1862–3) 88
(iii) Historical, ‘Gothic’, and ‘sensation’ fiction 90
(iv) Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Aurora Leigh (1856) 92
(v) Cervantes, Hawthorne, and the ‘found’ manuscript 93
XI Historiography and aesthetics 94
(i) The historical subject 94
(ii) Historiography and ‘truth’ 95
(iii) History, resurrection, and appropriation 98
(iv) Narrative and dramatic form 98
(v) Language 100
(vi) Rival aesthetics 101
XII Browning’s chronologies 104
XIII The characters of the poem 105
(i) Guido Franceschini and his family 105
(ii) Pompilia Comparini 108
(iii) Pietro and Violante Comparini 114
(iv) Giuseppe Caponsacchi 118
(v) Guido’s accomplices 120
THE RING AND THE BOOK 3
(vi) The lawyers 124

(vii) The Pope 125
XIV The locations of the poem 128
(i) The Comparini’s house(s) in Rome 128
(ii) The Franceschini ‘palace’ in Arezzo and Guido’s ‘villa’
at ‘Vittiano’ 130
(iii) The location of Guido’s execution 130
XV Critical reception 132
(i) Publication in instalments 135
(ii) The subject matter of the poem 136
(iii) Poetics and narrative/dramatic form 140
(iv) Poetic language 145
(v) The characters of the poem 148
I Text and publication

First publ. by Smith, Elder in 1868–9, in four vols., issued in instalments: vol. I
(bks. i–iii) appeared on 28 Nov. 1868; vol. II (bks. iv–vi) on 24 Dec. 1868; vol. III
(bks. vii–ix) on 29 Jan. 1869; vol. IV (bks. x–xii) on 26 Feb. 1869. (These dates are
corrected from those given in Ohio and Oxford.) We refer to this edn. as 1868–9.
As with the Poetical Works of 1868, the title page identifies B. as ‘M.A., Honorary
Fellow of Balliol College, Oxford’, honours awarded in June of that year. B. told
Isa Blagden that he had ‘received a hint so to do’ in the case of the Poetical Works
(19 Feb. 1868, Dearest Isa 291); this ‘hint’ almost certainly came from George
Smith, the head of Smith, Elder, and Smith is likely to have given the same ‘hint’
with regard to Ring. The first American edn. (1st Am.) was publ. in two vols. by
the Boston firm of Fields, Osgood, & Co., from advance proofs; vol. I (bks. i–vi)
appeared on 5 Dec. 1868, and vol. II (bks. vii–xii) on or before 13 Mar. 1869; this
meant that bks. iv–vi appeared in America before their publication in vol. II of
the British edn. For the status of 1st Am. in the textual history of the poem, see
p. 30. A second British edn. was publ., again in four vols., in 1872, but as Michael
Meredith has demonstrated (following a brief note in Bibliography A74 [p. 15]),
only vols. III and IV contained revs. by B.; vols. I and II were made up of sheets left
over from 1868–9 (‘A Botched Job: Publication of The Ring and the Book’, Studies
in Browning and His Circle xv [1988] 41–50). B. was only able to revise vol. I in the
spring of 1882, when 1872 was re-issued; he was finally able to revise vol. II a year
later. Both re-issues misleadingly retain the date ‘1872’; the volumes re-issued in
1882 and 1883 are identifiable by the fact that the title page simply has ‘by Robert
Browning’ without his academic titles. Repr. with further revs. in B.’s final collected
edition, the Poetical Works of 1888–9 (1888) in three vols.: VIII (bks. i–iv), IX (bks.
v–viii), and X (bks. ix–xii). B. made corrections to the first ten vols. of 1888 before
his death; two lists of such corrections are extant, and these were incorporated in
reprintings of the edition (1889). Two of the vols. in 1888 contained illustrations at
the front: in vol. VIII, a coin from 1696 with a portrait of Pope Innocent XII, and
the handwritten title page of the ‘old yellow book’ from which B. derived the story
of the poem (reproduced in this edn. as the frontispiece to this volume); in vol. X,
the only known portrait of Guido Franceschini (reproduced in this edn. as pl. 1).
No extracts were included in vols. of selections in B.’s lifetime. A one-volume illus-
trated edn. was publ. by Smith, Elder in 1898.
Our text is 1868–9, slightly emended. One of the emendations concerns
lineation. 1868–9 was printed with line numbers, a very unusual feature for a
contemporary poem; these line numbers were present in MS, and were almost
certainly supplied by the compositors. Their practice was to count the lines as
physical marks on the page, not metrical units; for example, the opening words
of the poem:
Do you see this Ring?
’Tis Rome-work, made to match
were counted as two lines. This practice was followed in 1868–9, so that even a
single word counted as a whole line; but at iii 1599 the printers overlooked the
two-word line ‘A letter’ and did not include it in the line count; they did the same
with the one-word line ‘Pompiliœ’ at viii 145. We have adjusted the line number-
ing, with the result that our version of 1868–9 has the correct tally of 21,118 lines.
II Composition and date

We give here, for the sake of convenience, an abstract of the timeline of composi-
tion of the poem. For a more general chronology of B.’s life and work in this period,
see the chronologies in vols. III and IV of our edition.
1858–60 B. acquires the ‘old yellow book’, source of the poem.
1860–1 Offers story to various friends and fellow writers
before deciding to do something with it himself.
1862 (Sept.–Oct.) First mentions of plan to write poem.
1864 (Aug.) Formulates plan of poem in twelve books.
(Oct.) Composition begins.
1865 (June) Has written ‘some 8,000 lines’ and projects length of
whole poem as 15,000.
1866 (May) Gives length as 16,000 lines.
1867 (May) Gives length as 18,000 lines.
(July) States that the poem will be ‘in Twelve Parts, averag-
ing, say, 1600 lines each. The whole somewhat exceed-
ing 20,000. . . I hope to be able to print in October’.
(Nov.) Hopes that the poem ‘will be out about May next’.
Draft of whole poem probably exists, fuller in earlier
parts.
1867–8 (autumn–winter) Begins making printer’s fair-copy (MS), revising and
expanding.
1868 (Feb.) Shows William Allingham ‘in bird’s-eye view only, the
MS. of a new Poem to be printed in July’.
(May) Consults Allingham ‘about how to publish it . . . I
think of bringing it out in four monthly volumes’.
(May/June) Shows bks. i–vi to publisher, George Smith.

(Early July) Plan to publish poem in four vols. is agreed. Bks. i–vi
go to press.
(Late July–Aug.) Corrects first proofs of bks. i–iii. At this stage B.’s pro-
posed title is The Franceschini, as against The Book
and the Ring, perhaps suggested by George Smith or
George’s wife Elizabeth.
(Late Aug.–Sept.) Corrects first proofs of bks. iv–vi.
(Autumn) Title fixed as The Ring and the Book (exactly when,
and at whose suggestion, is not known). Continues to
correct proofs of bks. i–iii up to publication as vol. I
(28 Nov.) and of bks. iv–vi as vol. II (24 Dec.), while
completing MS copy of bks. vii–xii.
1869 (1 Jan.) Returns first proofs of bks. vii–viii, and MS copy of
bks. ix–xi.
(Jan.) Continues to correct proofs of bks. vii–ix up to publi-
cation as vol. III (29 Jan.). Completes MS copy of bk.
xii.
(Jan.–Feb.) Corrects proofs of bks. x–xii up to publication as vol.
IV (26 Feb.)
(i) The date of B.’s acquisition of the ‘old yellow book’

The genesis of Ring is traced by B. himself, in bk. i of the poem, to his discovery,
on a market stall in Florence, of a collection of documents connected with the
trial in 1698 of Guido Franceschini and his four accomplices for the murder of
his wife. The documents had been bound together into a volume which B. calls
‘this square old yellow Book’ (i 33); it is under this name that scholars habitually
refer to it, and we use the abbreviation OYB in this edn. (for a description of
its contents, see p. 71). OYB came into B.’s possession at some point before his
departure from Italy in August 1861, following the death of EBB. on 29 June, but
it not possible to identify with certainty the year in which he acquired it. In his
biography of the poet, written after extensive consultation with surviving family
and friends, W. Hall Griffin asserts: ‘It was a burning noontide of June, 1860,
when, as he crossed the Square of San Lorenzo in Florence, Browning picked up
the “square old yellow book” ’ (Griffin and Minchin 228). This date was, how-
ever, disputed by Mrs Orr, B.’s first biographer and a close personal friend, who
wrote to Griffin:
the book was bought in 1861. . . . There is circumstantial evidence in favour of
[this] fact; and as the proofs of the “Life” [i.e. her biography, publ. 1891] were
immediately gone through by both his sister and his son no error concerning it
could possibly have been allowed to stand.
(BL Add MS 45563 f. 62)
Griffin’s assertion that the poem was bought in 1860 rests, in part, on his deter-
mination to see B.’s statement in i 422ff. (p. 181)—‘Far from beginning with you
London folk, / I took my book to Rome first’—as a record of actual research under-
taken in Rome during the winter of 1860–1; but Mrs Orr (in the same letter) insists
that this passage is fictional:
As for the lines you quote ‘Far from beginning with your [sic] London folk’ etc.
they indicate a purely imaginary process and if you once look at them from that
point of view you will see that they fit into no other. Had Browning really gone
to Rome and ‘tried truth’s power’ [l. 423] in the manner supposed—if he had
even done it while spending his last winter there—we should have had letters,
fragments of conversation, a whole chapter of biography. Every friend of his in
London who was interested in his work would have heard of it; I could not have
failed to do so. Besides which, the ‘likely people’ were no longer there. He had
to go back in fancy to the time of Guido and Pompilia to see how the events in
which they figured were likely to affect their world.
Other evidence adduced for the date of 1860 is also problematic. Writing about the
Brownings’ residence in Rome during the winter of 1860–1, Griffin states:
It is certain that he offered the story to one of his friends in Rome that winter,
Miss Ogle, as subject for a novel; equally certain that he seriously suggested to
another friend, Mr. W. C. Cartwright, that he should write an account of it.
(Griffin and Minchin 229)
The first of these assertions is directly contradicted by ‘Miss Ogle’ herself. Anne
Charlotte Ogle (1832–1918) was asked for her recollections on the subject by F. W.
Oliver, who quoted her reply in a letter to Griffin of 6 July 1898:
I have just heard from Miss Ogle. She says:—‘No it was not in Rome I think that
Mr. Browning lent me the white bound vellum book of Pompilia’s story. We left
Rome in 1859 and afterwards met in London. I had the book for two years, but
it was all in Latin & I could make nothing of it: then Mr. Browning sent for it
saying that if no one would write the tale he must’.
(BL Add MS 45563 f. 88)
Oliver has some doubts about the reliability of Miss Ogle’s memory, but there
is no doubt that she was in Rome, along with the Brownings, in the winter of
1858–9; a letter from EBB. to Fanny Haworth of 27 Dec. 1858 states: ‘Miss Ogle
is here . . . the author of “A Lost Love”, that very pretty book—& she is natural &
pleasing’ (Correspondence xxv 320). William Cornwallis Cartwright (1825–1915)
became a close friend of the Brownings during the 1850s, thanks in part to their
regular periods of residence together in Rome. Cartwright’s letter to Griffin
makes it clear that he cannot remember the year in which he first heard the poet
speak about OYB:
The first I ever heard about ‘the Book’ was from Browning in Rome. I spent so
many winters consecutively in Rome & was so constantly with Browning, I can-
not say which year he told me first about the Book & told me about the Story.
I can perfectly recollect the first mention of the Book. We were driving together
to see the recently-discovered remains of the Church of St. Alexander in the
Campagne [sic, for ‘Campagna’]. Browning at that time had so little in his mind
writing his poem that he actually suggested to me to write an account of the
curious Story. He did this seriously & went so far as to say he would give me
the Book—which if my memory serves me correctly he had picked up the sum-
mer before. I did not see the Book in Rome. My impression is he had it not with
him in Rome at this time. Seeing him as I did daily . . . I think it most unlikely
he should not have shown me the Book if he had it with him in Rome. In fact
if I did not consider myself under cross question & therefore [put?] to it not to
[go] beyond any statements to which I could not take my oath, I could affirm
he at that time said the book was in Florence—I do remember, subsequently
Browning [resorting?] to inquiries relating to the Story—But I am perfectly
clear on one point: it was after Mrs Browning’s death—in London . . . that
he spoke to me about the Story and said he was engaged on a Poem based
thereon—I can call to mind his having spoken to me—or rather his having
mentioned to me. . . . (I cannot [be] precise at what date) that he had procured
additional information. My recollection is he received the portrait after [the]
appearance of the Poem.
(BL Add. MS 45564 ff. 281–3; dated May 20th [no year])
It is not clear when B. first met Cartwright; they spent time together in Paris in
1855–6, but B.’s reference to him as one of the ‘Roman people’ in a letter to Harriet
Hosmer of 13 Jan. 1856 (Correspondence xxii 76) suggests that they might have met
during the Brownings’ earlier extended period of residence in Rome in the winter
of 1853–4. Cartwright was certainly with the Brownings a good deal during their
Roman visits of 1858–9 and 1859–60; he is mentioned in their correspondence on
a number of occasions. Cartwright links his memory of ‘the Book’ to ‘the recently-
discovered remains of the Church of St. Alexander’ in the Campagna. This refers
to the discovery of an ancient basilica in the catacombs of the Via Nomentana in
late 1854, with inscriptions suggesting that it held the remains of Pope Alexander
I (107–115), reputed to have been one of the earliest Christian martyrs. According
to an article published in the Atlantic Monthly (i [May 1858] 816–17), the Pope
visited the site for a ceremony of reconsecration on 3 May 1855. The article goes on
to lament plans to ‘restore’ the site by building a modern ‘Carthusian convent’ on
the ruins of the ancient church, and states that ‘preparations were being made’ for
this work in the spring of 1857.
Cartwright’s letter would appear to rule out Mrs Orr’s suggestion of a date of
1861 for the acquisition of OYB, but it leaves other questions about the date unre-
solved. B.’s conversation with Cartwright about the Book could have happened
during any of the three ‘consecutive’ winters they spent together in Rome (1858–9,
1859–60, and 1860–1). An early date of 1858 would seem to be implied by the allu-
sion to the ‘recent’ discovery of the basilica of Pope Alexander, and by the fact that
both Cartwright and Anne Charlotte Ogle were in Rome with the Brownings during
the winter of 1858–9. On the other hand, Cartwright’s unpublished journal for the
year 1860 records several visits with B. and others to various sites of archaeological
interest around Rome; in the entry for 10 Jan. 1860, for instance, Cartwright notes
that he ‘[drove] with Mrs Story—Browning’ and others ‘to the Roman tombs &
Basilica of St. Stephen on the Via Latina’, and similar excursions are recorded in the
entries for 18 Mar. and 22 Mar. (MS in Northamptonshire Archives, C(A)Box, no.
6). On the basis of this evidence, all that can be said for certain is that B. acquired
OYB at some point during 1858–60, and spoke about it to some of his friends dur-
ing this period.
(ii) B.’s decision to write a poem based on OYB

In addition to Cartwright and Miss Ogle, B. seems to have offered either OYB
or the story it contains to at least two notable literary contemporaries. On 26
May 1868 William Allingham recorded in his diary that B. told him he had ‘offered
it to A[nthony] Trollope to turn into a novel, but T. couldn’t manage it; then R.B.
thought, “why not take it myself?” ’ (Allingham 180). Oxford suggests that this offer
might have taken place on one of two visits which Trollope made to the Brownings
in Florence in late October 1860; this is possible, but B. also saw Trollope during his
first year of residence in London following EBB.’s death; in a letter of 19 Sept. 1862
he asks Isa Blagden to convey his ‘truest regards’ to Thomas Adolphus Trollope, a
member of the Florentine expatriate community, and adds:
he and his brother were most kind to me in London, and I seem to myself to
have cut (as usual) an ungracious figure in not accepting their invitations—but
my very head, heart & limbs were tired at that time. I will not lose A. Trollope’s
company by any fault of my own for the future.
(Dearest Isa 124)
Many years later, in a diary entry for 27 July 1884, Allingham records Tennyson
as saying: ‘[Browning] offered me the subject of The Ring and the Book’ (Allingham
326). Oxford (vol. vii, p. xii) suggests that this ‘offer’ might have taken place when
B. visited Tennyson on 20 Nov. 1861; again, this is possible, but the recollection in
Allingham’s diary is undated.
B.’s letter to Isa Blagden of 19 Sept. 1862 (Dearest Isa 124) contains the first
indication of his own interest in the subject matter:
If you see Mrs Baker, tell her that I was quite unable to call on her during the
day or two she was at Bayswater, & that I am sorry for it. Another thing,—she
promised to lend me a M.S[.] account of the trial of Count Francesco Guidi
[sic, and following] for the murder of his wife,—which I am anxious to collate
with my own collection of papers on the subject: she told me she had lent it to
[Thomas Adolphus] Trollope, along with other documents which she thought
might interest him, and that he had found nothing in this subject to his pur-
pose. Can you ask him if there was no mistake in her statement,—if the account
really related to my Count Francesco Guidi of Arezzo? Because, in that case,
with her leave (which I shall beg your kindness to ask) I should greatly like to see
it—would find some friend to bring me the papers and would return them safely
and expeditiously.
The ‘M.S account’ is Morte dell’Uxoricida Guido Franceschini Decapitato [The

Death by Beheading of the Wife-Killer Guido Franceschini], a brief narrative
account of the events referred to in OYB which became almost as important a
source as OYB itself for B. This account—henceforward Secondary Source—
includes many vivid details of Guido’s physical appearance and demeanour at
the time of his execution which B. worked into his poem. (We provide this docu-
ment, in the original Italian and in translation, in Appendix B, p. 1346.) Thomas
Adolphus Trollope was, at this time, working on his History of the Commonwealth
of Florence (1865), and Mrs (Georgina Crossman) Baker, a mutual acquaintance
also based in Florence, might have passed this document on to him in the belief that
it would help him with this project. B.s desire to ‘collate’ the material in Secondary
Source with his own ‘collection of papers on the subject’ suggests that he had, by
this time, begun to think about working on the material himself. On the other hand,
his (repeated) mistake in calling Guido Franceschini ‘Francesco Guidi’ suggests a
less-than-perfect recollection of the contents of OYB, as well as an unconscious
reminiscence of Shelley’s play The Cenci, an important literary source for the poem
(see pp. 81–8). B. was always reluctant to allow OYB to be printed, but he gave his
friend Sir John Simeon permission to publish a facsimile of Secondary Source under
the auspices of the Philobiblon Society (Miscellanies xii [1868–9], item 3).
B. had received and read Secondary Source by the time of his next letter to Isa
Blagden on 18 Oct. 1862:
pray thank Mrs Baker for her kindness, & say it will be particularly useful to me:
it would be of little use to anybody without my documents, nor is it correct in
several respects, but it contains a few notices of the execution &c. subsequent
to my account that I can turn to good: I am going to make a regular poem of it.
I hope to print a new book of “Men & Women” (or under some such name) in
April or May—& next year, this which shall be a strong thing, if I can manage it.
(Dearest Isa 128)
He repeated this intention in his letter of 19 Nov. (ibid. 134). B. does not, how-
ever, seem to have started the ‘regular poem’ for another two years. Part of the
reason was the pressure of other commitments: as well as the ‘new book of “Men &
Women” ’—which eventually became Dramatis Personæ (DP, 1864)—he was also
involved in the preparation of EBB.’s Last Poems (1862) and Essays on the Greek
Christian Poets and the English Poets (1863); in 1863 he published his own three-
volume Poetical Works, and a volume of Selections, incorporating extensive revi-
sion and re-ordering (see II 466, Appendix A).
(iii) Phases of composition

On 11 Mar. 1864, as DP neared publication, B. wrote to his American publisher
James T. Fields: ‘I am inclined to work, and have done somewhat. . . . the next
poem will be a long affair—the choice thing perhaps’ (MS at Huntington). When
the poem was nearing completion, B. told William Michael Rossetti that he
began it in October ’64. Was staying at Bayonne, and walked out to a mountain-
gorge traditionally said to have been cut or kicked out by Roland, and there laid
out the full plan of his twelve cantos, accurately carried out in the execution.
(15 Mar. 1868; W. M. Rossetti, Rossetti Papers, 1862 to 1870 [1903], p. 302)
This visit in fact took place on 20 Aug. 1864, as B. told Julia Wedgwood in a letter
written on that day:
I went this morning to see the mountain-pass called ‘Le pas de Roland’—the
tradition being that he opened a way through a rock that effectually blocks it up,
by one kick of his boot, and so let Charlemagne’s army pass: it is a striking little
bit of scenery.
(RB & JW 63)
He mentioned it again, in similar terms, in a letter to Mrs [Emelyn] Story of 22 Aug.

(American Friends 146). Neither of these letters mentions the conception of Ring,
but in his letter to Isa Blagden of 19 Sept., written from Biarritz in southern France,
he tells her that he is
having a great read at Euripides—the one book I brought with me, besides
attending to my own matters, my new poem that is about to be; and of which the
whole is pretty well in my head—the Roman murder story you know.
(Dearest Isa 193)
The mention of Euripides is consequential because of his appearance in the Pope’s
monologue (see x 1667–8n., p. 1123); it may be that B. had this episode in mind
even at so early a stage. He wrote to Julia Wedgwood on 3 Oct. again from Biarritz,
in even more specific terms: ‘I have got the whole of that poem, you enquire about,
well in my head, shall write the Twelve books of it in six months, and then take
breath again’ (RB & JW 95); and he repeated this forecast in another letter to Isa
Blagden, written on 19 Oct., shortly after his return to London: ‘I hope to have a
long poem ready by the summer, my Italian murder thing’ (Dearest Isa 196; ‘the
summer’ meaning the summer of the following year, 1865).
These letters imply that B. had not actually begun writing the poem, but was
about to start: the first phase of composition may therefore be dated to late Oct.
1864. The pattern of conceiving or grasping the ‘whole’ of a work, followed by a
longer process of writing it out, is present in other works by B., though not on this
scale; cp. e.g. his description, in a letter of 1871, of the genesis of Prince Hohenstiel:
I really wrote—that is, conceived the poem, twelve years ago in the Via del
Tritone [in Rome]—in a little handbreadth of prose . . . which I breathed out
into this full-grown bubble in a couple of months this autumn that is gone.
(IV 455–6)
Ring clearly occupied more than ‘a couple of months’, or even the ‘six months’
B. optimistically forecast, but as he later told Wedgwood there were ‘spaces of
interruption, months at a time’ (17 May 1867, RB & JW 140). Some of these inter-
ruptions were regular intervals of holidaying abroad, during which B. rarely did
much writing; another resulted from his father’s last illness and death in June 1866,
and his sister Sarianna’s move from Paris to live with him and his son Pen in
London. Rossetti’s phrase about the ‘full plan’ being ‘accurately carried out in the
execution’ is not quite right; as Oxford puts it,
The plan that the poem would be completed in six months is . . . evidence
that—though he had conceived it ambitiously in twelve books—he had only a
limited sense of its scale, and was unaware how long it would eventually turn
out to be.
(vol. vii, p. xvi)
In her letter of 1 Mar. 1865, in which she broke off their relationship, Julia
Wedgwood wrote: ‘if you can still let me see what you promised it will be an even
greater pleasure to me than it would have been while I was in the habit of seeing
you’ (RB & JW 134). B. replied: ‘Of course I will send you the poem, when it is
done; that can hardly be till next year, however hard I work—and I do work unin-
termittingly’ (n.d. but soon after prec. letter; RB & JW 136). In the same month he
told Isa Blagden: ‘I am about a long poem to be something remarkable—work at it
hard’ (Dearest Isa 212). On 30 June he wrote to George Howard (later 9th Earl of
Carlisle):
As for the poem you enquire about—I can report that I am ending the seventh
Book or Division—some eight thousand lines—and that I see the remaining five
parts as though they were ended also: but I shall do things deliberately, and may
hardly be ready before next year’s end: if you cry out at 15,000 lines, remember that
I have never been charged with ‘taking my ease at my inn’, or spinning out my work
before: this admits of such treatment, and accordingly shall get it and welcome.
(MS at Castle Howard, Yorkshire; quoting Falstaff in 1 Henry IV III iii 80)
On 8 July he wrote in similar terms to Edith Story: ‘It is now the end of the season,
(and my working season, besides—for I have written 8400 lines of my new poem
since the autumn [of 1864],—there’s for you!)—and there is a little breathing-space
before going away’ (LH 85). Ten months later the poem had doubled in size, as he
told Isa Blagden:
My poem is nearly done—won’t be out for a year or perhaps more . . . 16,000
lines, or over,—done in less than two years, Isa!—I having done other work
besides,—and giving the precious earlier hours of the morning to it, moreover,
which take the strength out of one.
(19 May 1866, Dearest Isa 239)
This ‘other work’ consisted of coaching Pen Browning in Latin and Greek, in order
to help secure his admission to Balliol College, Oxford. On 19 Oct. this ‘other work’
was still going on: ‘Pen [is] working hard—and I have my poem to mend and end in
the gaps between Greek and Latin’ (ibid. 249). ‘Mend and end’ proved over-optimis-
tic; almost a year after he mentioned the figure of 16,000 lines, the poem had seem-
ingly not advanced much: ‘I want to get done with my Poem,—sixteen thousand
lines!’ (23 Apr. 1867, ibid. 263); though in May, writing to Julia Wedgwood, his
estimate was 18,000 (17 May 1867, RB & JW 140). The desire to finish impelled
B. to take the poem with him to Le Croisic in the summer, in order, as he told
Isa Blagden, to ‘get it ready, I hope, to go to press next Oct. or November’ (19
July 1867, ibid. 274). On the same date he wrote to Fields, Osgood, his prospec-
tive American publishers, telling them that the poem would be ‘in Twelve Parts,
averaging, say, 1600 lines each. The whole somewhat exceeding 20,000. . . I hope
to be able to print in October’ (19 July 1867, LH 114). This deadline, too, proved
unrealistic, and Pen’s needs were still taking priority, as his sister Sarianna wrote to
Joseph Milsand on 19 Aug.: ‘Robert works at his poem, but complains that the time
he gives to Pen’s reading breaks into his own labour and still more into his energy’
(MS at ABL). But on his return to London B. could now see his way to finishing the
poem; on 6 Oct., shortly after he returned to London, he wrote to Edward Dowden:
‘I am finishing the exceedingly lengthy business, and hope to be rid of it in a few
months more’ (LH 123). Another letter from Sarianna to Milsand, written on 25
Oct., confirms that this new-found confidence came partly from the fact that Pen’s
tuition was no longer a concern:
you ask after Robt’s progress—he worked while we were at Croisic, but Pen was
a hindrance—now that he is free, and in good spirits, he works very hard, and
hopes to bring his poem out at Christmas—We breakfast at eight, since Pen left,
and he works steadily till lunch at one.
(MS at ABL)
B. himself told Isa Blagden that the poem
will be out about May next—I trust: it won’t appear a day before it is ready if
I wait another two or three years: but it will soon be ready now, I think: I have all
my time to myself: not only do more but with infinitely greater freshness.
(19 Nov. 1867, Dearest Isa 284–5)
Yet as Oxford points out (vol. vii, p. xxix), Ring was not B.’s sole preoccupation: in
the letter just quoted, he announced his move from Chapman and Hall to Smith,
Elder, one immediate consequence of which was the decision to issue a new Poetical
Works, for which B. did a considerable amount of revision and then, in the first
months of 1868, proof-reading. ‘[Robert] is correcting the proof-sheets of his new
edition’, Sarianna Browning wrote to Milsand on 20 Jan., noting that ‘Smith had
paid him the money’, but that it was ‘a sort of interruption to the new poem’ (MS at
ABL). The publication of this edn. in six monthly vols. (March–August 1868) coin-
cided with the final stages of the production of a working manuscript of Ring which
could be shown to the publisher and to selected friends.
(iv) Final phase of composition

It is likely that a draft of the whole poem existed by the autumn of 1867, though
fuller for the earlier books, and that B. then embarked on what Sarianna, writing
to Milsand on 11 Nov., called ‘the manual exertion of writing out twenty thousand
lines’ (MS at ABL). As he copied the poem out, B. revised and expanded it. The
process had advanced to the point where he was able, as William Allingham put it
in his diary entry for 8 Feb. 1868, to ‘[show] me, in bird’s-eye view only, the MS.
of a new Poem to be printed in July’ (Allingham 173). In the spring of 1868, his
friend Joseph Milsand read bks. i and ii (RB & JW 144), probably in the printer’s
fair copy (MS); on 15 May B. wrote to Thomas Kelsall that the poem was ‘as good
as done,—might go to press and return to me with advantage in type,—there being
plenty still to do, but nothing which needs stop the printing’ (The Browning Box,
ed. H. W. Donner [1935] 101–2). ‘Plenty still to do’ certainly applies more to the
second half of the poem than the first. On 26 May, William Allingham recorded in
his diary a visit to B. in which
[t]alk runs chiefly on his forthcoming new Poem in many thousand lines. . . .
At luncheon he went over the headings of the chapters or books into which this
very long Poem is divided. ‘And now! can you advise me? I’m puzzled about
how to publish it. I want people not to turn to the end, but to read through in
proper order. Magazine, you’ll say: but no, I don’t like the notion of being sand-
wiched between Politics and Deer-Stalking, say. I think of bringing it out in four
monthly volumes, giving people time to read and digest it, part by part, but not
to forget what has gone before.’
(Allingham 180–1)
In late May or early June, B. gave Smith, bks. i–vi to read—again, probably MS—
and this portion of the poem was read by Smith and by his wife Elizabeth (RB & JW
144). B. also gave Smith a ‘list of parts’ of the whole poem. In early July the decision
was taken to publish in four vols., and bks. i–vi were sent to the printer. B. was
still engaged in producing the MS version of the later books. In a letter of 8 July he
reassured Smith that the material for vol. iii (bks. vii–ix) would be in proportion to
the first two vols.: ‘Don’t concern yourself about the thinness of Vol. III: it will be
increased to the size of the other two,—I made a note that I should increase parts 8
and 9 in the list of parts, I gave you’. This implies that Smith had either seen ‘thin’
drafts of bks. viii and ix, or an estimate of their current number of lines in B.’s ‘list
of parts’.
Smith sent the first set of author’s proofs of bks. i–iii to B. in Paris in late July;
B. received them on 30 July, and finished correcting them at Audierne, in Brittany,
by 27 Aug. Proofs of bks. iv–vi reached him there on 29 Aug., and he brought them
back to London with him in the first week of October. These were almost certainly
galley proofs, and are not extant; one or more sets of page proof would have been
produced in the following weeks, and it was one of these ‘revises’ that B. sent to
Fields, Osgood, his American publisher, on 30 Oct. At this stage the title of the
poem had still not been settled. Revision and expansion of bks. vii–xii continued
through the autumn and winter of 1868–9; there is clear evidence, for example,
that the contents of bk. xii had not been settled by 19 Nov., when B. wrote to Julia
Wedgwood that ‘the Priest [Caponsacchi] has a final word to add in his old age’
(RB & JW 162), a passage that does not appear in MS; either it had not yet been
drafted, or was cut from the final text. In the same letter B. referred to ‘the Pope’s
Judgment’ (bk. x) as the ‘longest book in the poem’ (ibid. 160), not foreseeing that
Guido’s second monologue (bk. xi) would turn out nearly 300 lines longer. On
1 Jan. 1869 he returned proofs of bks. vii–viii (almost certainly galley proofs, which
he refers to as ‘slips’) and bks. ix–xi in MS, telling Smith ‘I shall be very glad to get
these in type, and you shall have the last of the last [i.e. bk. xii] in due time’. We
have no further record of his receiving or returning proofs, but it may be assumed
that the normal process of producing galleys, followed by page proofs, took place
up to a week before each volume appeared; last-minute changes could be made
almost on the eve of printing. We have found a small number of variants between
individual copies of 1868–9, most of which are due to dropped punctuation marks;
in at least one case, however, a ‘stop-press’ correction seems to have been carried
out directly on the plate (see viii 182n., p. 826). There may be other instances, but
we have not undertaken a full collation of extant copies of the first edn.
(v) The title

B. did not begin writing the poem with a title in mind; he referred to it in the
course of composition as ‘my Roman murder story’, ‘my Italian murder thing’,
etc. In his letter of 19 July 1866 to his American publishers he stated that ‘The
name is that of the collection of law-papers on which, or out of which, rather, the
poem is developed’ (LH 114). This probably refers to the Latin phrase ‘Romana
Homicidiorum’ (‘A Roman murder-case’) which he places at the head of the
handwritten title page of OYB when he translates it in i 120–31 (p. 161), though it
actually comes further down the page. However, two years later, after he showed
bks. i–vi to George Smith, there was some discussion about the title. MS is unti-
tled; B. himself suggested ‘The Franceschini’, but we infer that Smith objected,
perhaps because the foreignness of the name and its uncertain pronunciation for
English readers would confirm B.’s reputation for obscure or recondite subject
matter and might put off prospective purchasers. In his letter to Smith of 30 July,
acknowledging receipt of the first proofs of bks. i–iii, B. wrote:
I have been thinking over the ‘name’ of the Poem, as you desired,—but do
not, nor apparently shall, come to anything better than ‘The Franceschini’;
that includes everybody in the piece, inasmuch as everyone is for either
Franceschini or his wife, a Franceschini also. I think ‘the Book & the Ring’
is too pretty-fairy-story-like. Suppose you say ‘The Franceschini’ therefore.
Good luck to it!
Altick (p. 12) suggests that B. might have thought ‘The Book and the Ring’ too
close to the title of Thackeray’s fairy-story The Rose and the Ring (1855); this par-
ticular book may also have had more recent and painful personal associations
for B., whose former publisher, Frederic Chapman, had presented a volume of
Thackeray’s Christmas Books (which included The Rose and the Ring) to the thir-
teen-year-old Pen Browning on 1 June 1862, less than a year after EBB.’s death
(Collections A2299). It is not known who suggested making the title of bk. i the title
of the whole poem, but Smith is likely to have had a hand in the decision.
(vi) Selling the poem: Ring as a commercial venture

B. was impelled to write Ring from motives quite apart from money and reputation,
but these things played a part in the way he thought about the poem once he began
it. As its sheer scale became evident, his sense of its financial value increased. The
longest single poem he had written to date was Sordello (1840), which at roughly
6,000 lines would be dwarfed by Ring; and Sordello, on which B. had counted for a
popular success, had been a disastrous failure from which his reputation was only
just starting to recover (see headnote, I 386–9). Since then he had written four poems
over 1,000 lines: the paired poems of Christmas-Eve and Easter-Day (1850; 1,360
and 1,040 lines respectively); ‘Bishop Blougram’ (1855; 1,013); and ‘Mr. Sludge’
(1864; 1,525). Sales of CE & ED had not matched B.’s expectations (see headnote,
III 45), and M & W, in which ‘Bishop Blougram’ had appeared, was also a com-
mercial failure, almost as bitter to B. as that of Sordello (see Appendix C, ‘Note on
Men and Women’, III 744–5). However, sales of DP, in which ‘Mr Sludge’ appeared,
were much more encouraging; it was the first of B.’s books to go into a second edn.
(see Appendix B, ‘Note on Dramatis Personae’, IV 577). Now that he was back in
London, B. was in closer touch with the literary market, and better able to gauge the
value of his own literary ‘property’ against that of his contemporaries; in turn, he
was more ‘visible’ to prospective publishers, and news of what he was doing circu-
lated more widely. The fact that he held EBB.’s copyrights remained a strong card;
her critical reputation and readership were still in advance of his in the 1860s.
B. was also, in this period, concerned about his own, and his son’s, financial
security. The income he derived from the sale of his and (mainly) EBB.’s books was
supplemented by investments in Italian and English securities; the former, in par-
ticular, were a cause of anxiety (see Roma A. King, Jr, Robert Browning’s Finances
from His Own Account Book [Waco, TX, 1947; Baylor University Browning Interests
15] 17). B. was therefore more inclined to think of the financial return on his liter-
ary work. On 19 May 1866 he wrote to Isa Blagden:
Suppose I am ruined by the loss of my Italian Rents,—how then? I shall go about
and sell my books to the best bidder, and I want something, decidedly, for this
performance [.]
(Dearest Isa 239)
In the same period he seems to have made the decision to leave Chapman and Hall,
who had been his (and EBB.’s) publishers since 1848, but with whom B. had been
dissatisfied for several years. (See Appendix C, ‘Why Browning Severed Relations
with Chapman and Hall’, NL 393–400; note however that the editors mistake the
letters they cite from 1866 as being addressed to Edward Chapman, who retired
from the firm in 1864, leaving his nephew Frederic as senior partner.) B.’s sense
that he needed, and deserved, a more active, efficient, and media-conscious pub-
lisher would have been reinforced by approaches such as the one he reported to Isa
Blagden in Apr. 1867:
I want to get done with my Poem,—sixteen thousand lines! Booksellers are mak-
ing me pretty offers for it. One sent to propose, last week, to publish it as his risk,
give me all the profits, and pay me the whole in advance—‘for the incidental
advantage of my name’. Oh, R B who for six months once did not sell one copy
of the poems! I ask £200 for the sheets to America and shall get it,—or rather,
Pen will.
(23 Apr. 1867, Dearest Isa 263)
(On this last remark, see p. 17.) The ‘bookseller’ who made this particular offer is
not identified, but we have evidence of an effort by Alexander Macmillan to secure
the poem. On 12 Jan. 1867, B.’s sister Sarianna wrote to Joseph Milsand:
By the way, Rt. saw by accident Macmillan the publisher, who instantly pounced
on the subject of the new poem[;] he said if R. would publish it in his Mag
[Macmillan’s Magazine, a monthly established in 1859]: he would give him
twelve hundred pounds—not interfering in any way with the subsequent pub-
lication: he seemed disposed to give even higher, but Rt said it did not meet his
plans. He is working at it, and it will soon be ready, I believe.
(MS at ABL)
B. must have expressed his long-held dislike of publishing in magazines; on 15 July

Macmillan wrote again, asking
whether you have come to a decision respecting the offer I made you for your
new poem. In case you have had offers in other forms I would venture to ask
you[r] consideration of the respective merits of each. It is not unusual for novel
publishers & other[s] to purchase the copyright for a term of years—four or five.
Had we given ours in that form it would have been larger considerably. But we
preferred this as being on the whole fairer to you & to us—having less of mere
speculation in it. Still if it were pleasanter to you to have it in another form we
will not grudge giving you say for the copyright for four years including all edi-
tions we may publish the sum of £1250.
(ibid.)
It seems unlikely that the ‘offer’ Macmillan refers to in this letter is the same as that
mentioned by Sarianna, of serial publication in Macmillan’s Magazine; it may have
been a revised offer to publish the poem in book form and pay a sum in advance
of royalties, with the eventual amount B. would earn from the poem being uncer-
tain—‘mere speculation’ as Macmillan calls it.
Direct evidence is lacking, but it is likely that B. took this offer seriously,
and that Macmillan was the publisher with whom he first discussed the format
in which the poem might be issued. On 19 July, only four days after receiv-
ing Macmillan’s letter, he wrote to his prospective American publisher, Fields,
Osgood, with whom he had already been negotiating the sale of advance proofs of
the poem, and in this letter he refers to advice given by ‘the people, with a right to
advise me in this matter—in which they will be quite as interested as yourselves’
(LH 114). This can only refer to a British publisher, and Macmillan seems a prob-
able candidate. B. went on to state that the poem ‘will be published here in two
volumes of six parts each’.
At this stage, therefore, Macmillan seems to have been the leading con-
tender to publish the book; his offer was presumably still on the table when, in
November 1868, B. opened negotiations with Smith, Elder. B. had known George
Murray Smith, now the head of the firm, since 1843, and had approached him when
he left Moxon in 1848; Smith was unable to take him on at that time, and B. was
hurt by his refusal, but by the mid-1860s their relations had improved and Smith
was keen to add B. (and EBB.) to his list (see Michael Meredith, ‘Browning and the
Prince of Publishers’, Browning Institute Studies vii [1979] 1–20). B. wrote to Isa
Blagden on 19 Nov.:
I part from Chapman, pursuant to my resolution when you were last in England
[i.e. July 1867], and go to Smith & Elder—who bring out a new Edition pres-
ently. I have had strange offers for the Poem,—which I shall give to Smith in all
probability.
(Dearest Isa 284–5)
B.’s decision to change publishers initially concerned his already-published work
(the ‘new Edition’ was the six-volume Poetical Works of 1868), and it may be that
Smith’s willingness to take on B.’s and EBB.’s ‘back-catalogue’ persuaded B. to give
him the new work as well, despite the fact that Smith’s terms were a little less gener-
ous than Macmillan’s—he offered B. £1,250 for the copyright over five rather than
four years.
As Meredith observes, B. was ‘impressed by Smith’s business acumen and effi-
ciency’ (‘Browning and the Prince of Publishers’ 9), and willing to trust his judg-
ment. Indeed he urged Smith ‘to be good enough always to take the initiative and
suggest what may be for the good of our common adventure,—my proper part will
be to write as good poetry as I can, to support what is done already’ (10 Dec. 1867).
As we have noted (p. 14), Smith may well have had a hand in deciding the title of
the poem, and in the use of B.’s honorary academic distinctions on the title page
(the latter decision is reflected in reviews of the poem: see p. 132). Over the winter
of 1867–8 B. was engaged in copying out the poem, and he was able to show bks.
i–vi to Smith in June 1868. It was in this period that the format in which the poem
would appear was agreed.
The change from two to four vols. caused a temporary rift with Fields, Osgood,
who maintained that B. had broken their agreement, and lowered their offer to him
from £200 to £50 (their letter is not extant; its contents may be inferred from B.’s
reply). B. represented the change of plan as coming from ‘the publisher’, who ‘on
reading the MS., thought so well of the thing as to believe it would bear, indeed be
advantaged by, printing in four volumes, one a month’ (2 Sept. 1868, LH 127). He
was angry enough to propose cancelling the agreement with Fields, Osgood and
finding another American publisher, but the dispute was settled and B. agreed,
somewhat grudgingly, that the book would be published in two vols. in America,
even though this meant that bks. iv–vi would appear in vol. I of the American edn.
on 5 Dec. before their publication as vol. II of the British edn. on 24 Dec. B. had
agreed to supply the American critic Moncure D. Conway with advance proofs, as
he had done in the case of DP, so that he would be able to publish a review almost
as soon as the poem appeared; but he stipulated that Conway should not make use
of his knowledge of the second volume before the first had appeared in England (30
Oct., NL 184–5). As it happens the stipulation was not necessary, since Conway’s
review of the whole poem appeared in March 1869, but the episode demonstrates
B.’s sensitivity to the question of who ‘owned’ the poem after he had sold it; as
he explained to Conway, ‘the property in the poem is no longer mine, on either
side of the Atlantic’ (p. 185). Smith, Elder’s ledger (held in the National Library of
Scotland) shows payment to B. of £625 for vols. I and II (£312 10s per volume) on
29 Dec. 1868, and the same amount for vols. III and IV on 23 Mar. 1869.
Once the decision to publish in four vols. had been taken, the printing of the
poem began. Smith, Elder’s ledger records that 3,000 copies of vol. I were paid for
on 17 Nov., and that 1,250 of these (not 1,500 as Oxford states) were bound in cloth.
Only 800 copies of vol. II were immediately bound on 17 Dec. 1868, and a further
1,311 by 1 Jan. 1869. Two thousand copies of vol. III were printed on 25 Jan., and
2,000 copies of vol. IV on 23 Feb. The price of each vol. was 7s 6d, so the whole
poem would cost £1 10s, or 30s, sixpence less than the standard price of a three-
volume novel in the period.
III The manuscript

The manuscript of Ring (MS) consists of 745 loose-leaf pages, written in dark
brown ink; all the writing is on the recto, apart from a couple of pages on which
material is copied onto the verso. The whole of MS is in B.’s hand; ‘I shall have
no amanuensis’, he wrote ruefully to Isa Blagden, who had helped him transcribe
the poems of M & W in Florence (19 Nov. 1862, Dearest Isa 134). Each MS page
contains 27 ruled lines, with a blank margin equivalent to two lines at the top and
one at the bottom. B. regularly (though not uniformly) made use of the bottom
margin, but only occasionally the top; material written above the first line usu-
ally indicates an addition to the text. The pages are bound in two volumes: vol.
I contains bks. i–vi (383 pp.); vol. II contains bks. vii–xii (362 pp., including one
loose leaf numbered 124 but pasted to the verso of 123). MS was presented by B. to
Elizabeth Smith, the wife of his publisher George Smith, and is now in the British
Library (Add MS43485 and Add MS43486, George Smith Memorial vols. XII and
XIII). Four letters from B. to George Smith are pasted in the front of the first vol-
ume. The first, dated 30 July 1868, concerns the title of the poem (see preceding);
the second, dated 1 Jan. 1869, records the delivery of manuscript for bks. ix, x, and
xi; the third, dated 11 Feb. 1869, accompanied the gift of MS: ‘I have done with the
M. S. which you pleased to say Mrs Smith would honor me by accepting: here it is,
therefore, with every wish that it were more worthy such acceptance’. The fourth
letter, dated 8 Sept. 1875, relates to an unnamed poem identifiable as Inn Album,
publ. in that year.
MS is the printer’s copy, from which the text of 1868–9 was set. There are mark-
ings made throughout by the individual compositors who were setting the poem in
type (these individuals, and the portions of the poem for which they were responsi-
ble, are identified and listed in Oxford vii 344–5); in addition, the printers supplied
line-numbers for the poem—a source of error and confusion up to and including
the first edition. B. himself wrote occasional directions to the printers, e.g. to clarify
where interpolated lines were to go.
MS was itself copied from a previous draft or drafts (attested by characteristic
errors: see more on this later) but as is usual with B. none of this earlier material
survives. When, in March 1865, he originally undertook to give Julia Wedgwood
a sight of the poem before it was set in type (RB & JW 136), she probably assumed
that he would send it to her in draft, and that she would be in a position to com-
ment on it and suggest changes before publication. But on 17 May 1868 B. wrote to
her explaining that this would not be possible:
the poem will probably go to press in the autumn, and I will send you the proofs
as I get them: from the way I work, it is not in my power to send a proper tran-
script, such as should give the thousands of lines a fair chance of being run
through.
(RB & JW 140)
Wedgwood replied the same day: ‘I wish I might see the MS; you greatly underrate
my powers of deciphering obscurities if you suppose them exceeded by a mere
printer’s devil’ (ibid. 142), but B. did not respond; and when he eventually sent
her the first two volumes of the poem, it was not even in the form of proof, but an
advance copy of the printed edition (30 Oct. 1868, ibid. 144). B.’s inability ‘to send
a proper transcript’ may mean that he was not producing legible copies as he went
along, and had no time to make any; in turn this would suggest that MS was the
product of a single (though protracted) stage of composition, after all, or most, of
the poem had been drafted.
The commonly used phrase ‘fair copy’ does not really describe MS, which is
more varied than its deceptively uniform appearance might suggest. Many pages
have few or no additions or revs., but this does not mean that their readings are
found in the printed text; indeed, some of the ‘cleanest’ pages in MS are the most
altered in print. Bk. iv, which we discuss in more detail later, looks at first glance
like ‘fair copy’ but is in fact the portion of the poem which most resembles an early
draft and was correspondingly subject to most change in print, while the opening
of bk. ix, one of the most heavily re-worked pages in MS, appears in 1868–9 virtu-
ally without alteration. The level of revision is uneven, both as between the differ-
ent books of the poem, and within each book; this applies both to the amount of
‘internal’ revision—added or deleted lines, cancelled readings, changes in layout,
etc.—and of variants between manuscript and print. Furthermore the pattern of
revision is not fixed. We distinguish between ‘running revisions’, made in the act of
copying from the draft, and revisions made at a later date; but it is not always easy
to tell these apart. We have taken account of variations in ink colour, and of differ-
ences in B.’s handwriting, which varies from a neat, controlled, and upright style
to a larger, more sloping and hurried script, but such evidence is not always clear
and may be subject to differing interpretation. We think it likely that B. was tran-
scribing from drafts which were, themselves, at different stages of development,
with some more ‘finished’ than others, and it seems clear that some books of the
poem gave him more trouble than others, requiring more changes to be made; but
there is a caveat to all such speculation, because we do not know how many times a
passage was copied. It is possible, for example, that a ‘clean’ page with no variants
is the product of intensive re-writing, to the point where a fresh copy had to made
for the printers; on the other hand a page with many revs., but which is still legible
enough for the printers to work with, might represent the only changes made to
that particular passage since its first draft.
In estimating the amount of revision within MS, we have discounted copying
errors, for example at xi 750, where Guido says of those who profess themselves
to be Christian, but reveal their real lack of belief when trouble comes: ‘Why, they
laugh frankly in the face of faith!’; B. first wrote ‘faith of face’, then corrected his
mistake; later in the same book, at ll. 1816–18, Guido remarks:
Cardinal, if the Pope had pardoned me,
And I walked out of prison through the crowd,
It would not be your arm I should dare press!
In MS the word ‘not’ is interpolated; B. had omitted it by mistake, since the sense
clearly requires it. There are many such examples (strong evidence that B. was tran-
scribing from a draft) but there are also places where it is not easy to distinguish
between a copying error and a rev. At i 619–23, for example, B. is narrating Guido’s
trick to gain entry to the villa where Pompilia and the Comparini have taken refuge:
Then one whined—
That was the policy and master-stroke—
Deep in his throat whispered what seemed a name—
“Open to Caponsacchi!” Guido cried:
“Gabriel!” cried Lucifer at Eden-gate.
The fourth line is interpolated in MS; this may be a copying error, since the actual
naming of Caponsacchi by Guido seems necessary for the Gabriel/Lucifer meta-
phor that follows, but we cannot be sure; the syntax works without it, and the origi-
nal draft may have been deliberately oblique.
Given the length of the poem, and the protracted period during which B. was
engaged in producing the printers’ copy, it is not surprising that MS has some
inconsistencies of spelling and format, not all of which were regularised in the first
edition.
(i) Spelling
Spellings in MS are inconsistent in a number of ways. B. alternates between ‘—or’
and ‘—our’ forms in words such as ‘colour’, ‘favour’, and ‘honour’ (note ‘honor’
in his letter to Smith cited earlier). Almost all these spellings were regularised to
the ‘—our’ form in 1868–9, but some were missed; we have not emended these
remaining instances. Another inconsistency concerns words ending ‘—ize’/‘—ise’.
B.’s preponderant form is ‘—ize’ but he does use the ‘—ise’ form on occasion (e.g.
‘recognize/recognise’, ‘baptize/baptise’, criticize/criticise’, ‘realize/realise’, ‘stig-
matize/stigmatise’); neither he nor the printers of 1868–9 carried out a system-
atic standardisation. The printers of 1888 made more of an effort, but even here
some ‘—ise’ forms survive—one of them (iii 1272) the result of a rev. made by B. in
1872 ABL. Again, we have not emended these instances. Contractions such as ‘’tis’
and ‘’twas’ are mostly so-spelt in MS, but changed to ‘’t is’ and ‘’t was’ in 1868–9
(again, with exceptions); in conformity with LAEP house-style, all such contractions
appear in our text without spacing, and with the apostrophe which is occasionally
missing in MS and not corrected in proof. In places B. distinguishes between exclam-
atory ‘Oh’ and vocative ‘O’ (e.g. vi 2105, p. 728), but he does not do so consistently
and the British printers did not standardise his usage (the printers of 1st Am., by
contrast, altered virtually every ‘Oh’ and ‘oh’ to ‘O’). Capitalisation is equally vari-
able. In general many more words are capitalised in MS than in 1868–9; some of
these changes may have been determined by the printers following house-style, e.g.
in topographical nouns (MS reads ‘Bridge-foot’ at i 351, ‘the City’s’ at i 355). The
capitalisation of words such as ‘heaven’, or of the ‘divine pronoun’ (God referred to
as ‘he’ or ‘He’, ‘him’ or ‘Him’, etc.) may fall into this category, but the difficulty of
deciding whether a change is authorial, or meaningful, is illustrated by i 1019–24:
How, mingling each its multifarious wires,
Now heaven, now earth, now heaven and earth at once,
Had plucked at and perplexed their puppet here,
Played off the young frank personable priest;
Sworn fast and tonsured plain heaven’s celibate,
And yet earth’s clear-accepted servitor
—where, in MS, the terms ‘heaven’ and ‘earth’ are lower case in l. 1020, and upper
case in ll. 1023–4. By contrast, for certain words there does seem to be a ration-
ale which was at least partly followed in 1868–9. ‘Church’, for example, is often
upper case when it refers to the abstract or personified entity, as in i 268 (‘the Pope,
the Church’s head’) or viii 715 (‘The Church tears the divorce-bill Gospel grants’),
and lower case when it refers to a particular edifice, as in i 48 (‘’Twixt palace and
church’) or ii 18 (‘They laid both bodies in the church, this morn’). But even this
distinction is not consistently maintained, and the same is true of one of the key
terms in the poem, ‘law’. When used without the definite article, ‘Law’ is sometimes
upper case as a personified figure, e.g. iv 1208 (‘Religion and Law lean forward
from their chairs’) or viii 331 (‘the tools at Law’s disposal’), and lower case when
a particular concept of law is alluded to, e.g. iii 1532 (‘nature’s law’), or when the
reference is to the general practice of law in the period, as at ii 1521 (‘Call in law
when a neighbour breaks your fence’) or iii 1662 (‘why this violation of the law?’).
Yet ‘law’ is often lower case where we might expect it to be upper case, e.g. ii 1399
(‘law and gospel held their peace’), and B.’s revs., whether within MS itself or as
between MS and 1868–9, do not account for all these variations. One intriguing
feature of MS capitalisation is the tendency to capitalise words that denote a per-
son’s role or function, e.g. iii 1398, where ‘priest, wife, husband’ is written ‘Priest,
Wife, Husband’ in MS; the term ‘priest’ is especially subject to such treatment, and
in one instance was actually revised from lower case to upper case in 1872 (see
vi 1609n.). Most such instances were changed to lower case in 1868–9, but some
survived (e.g. ‘Monk’ in v 729, 737, 756). We have left these spellings as they are,
noting only those instances where a change of form between editions has substan-
tive importance.
Although B.’s handwriting is generally legible, some features caused the print-
ers trouble, notably the positioning of the possessive apostrophe, which sometimes
comes after the final ‘s’ of a word even where the sense is clearly singular rather
than plural: see e.g. v 146 (p. 527) where we have emended the text. Several vari-
ants in format were clearly due to the sheer difficulty of maintaining focus when
copying over a long span of text: for example, B. sometimes writes ‘some one’ or
‘any one’, and sometimes ‘someone’, ‘anyone’, and the printers did not standardise
on a single form; we find ‘for evermore’ (i 541), ‘forevermore’ (v 787), and ‘for ever
more’ (v 1315). However, either they, or B. himself in correcting proof, did make
sure that all the Latin words and phrases used by the lawyers in bks. viii and ix
appear in italics, even though B. had occasionally forgotten to underline them in
MS. Actual spelling mistakes, whether habitual or mistakes made in copying, are
few and far between, and even fewer survived into 1868–9; we have emended these.
(ii) Punctuation
The punctuation of MS follows the pattern of other extant manuscripts by B.
in being looser and more ‘rhetorical’ than the printed text. We know that B.
sought advice and help with punctuation in this period, principally from his
friend Joseph Milsand, and that he thought of the proof-stage of his work as the
place where the punctuation would be finally adjusted and ‘normalised’ accord-
ing to the grammatical conventions of the time. Common changes include the
introduction of many more commas, especially at line endings; the reduction of
the use of the dash as an all-purpose punctuation mark (replaced by the colon
or semi-colon, and sometimes by a full stop); and the creation of many more
hyphenated words, either by joining two separate words (e.g. iii 349, ‘woman’s-
heart’ from ‘woman’s heart’) or dividing a single word (iii 398, ‘corn-field, and
brick-heap’ from ‘cornfield, and brickheap’). An exception to the process of
normalisation was the two-point ellipsis (. .), an habitual feature of B.’s orthog-
raphy; this was retained in 1868–9 and 1872 but replaced by the conventional
three-point ellipsis in 1888, with only a few exceptions (e.g. vi 1553, vii 1319,
xii 355); these were probably oversights. (That B. himself did not systematically
impose the change is suggested by xi 952 [p. 1209], where he made a verbal rev.
in the line in 1872 ABL but left the two-point ellipsis untouched.) The cumula-
tive effect of these changes is to make 1868–9 more formal in its presentation
and more grammatically prescriptive, a process that continued with the revs. B.
made in 1872 and 1888–9.
Many of the changes in punctuation might be the result of a scrutiny of the text
by others (whether Milsand, or the publisher’s reader, or the compositors following
house-style) but there remain a large number which are clearly authorial. 1868–9
is more exclamatory than MS, for example, and the positioning of question marks
often alters the sense, in ways that are unlikely to have been initiated by anyone
other than B., and which constitute substantive revs. of tone or emphasis.
As with spelling, actual errors in punctuation (ones that make the syntax defec-
tive) are rare in MS; for an example see iii 664 (p. 366). Errors that survived into
1868–9 are even rarer, and are emended: see e.g. iii 1356 (p. 400).
(iii) Paragraphing
Paragraphing in MS is inconsistently indicated. Sometimes there is a line-space,
usually with ‘N.P.’ in the left margin; occasionally this instruction is missing, but
in either case it seems clear that the paragraph was intended from the start, and
was already present in the draft, or was decided on in the act of copying. There
are however numerous passages in which a new paragraph is indicated by a line
in ink running between two lines of verse across the page, again usually with ‘N.P.’
in l.m.; it is likely that many if not all of these instances belong to a second phase
of revision. An intermediate class (prevalent in bk. ix) has what looks like a more
deliberate marking, as in this example from ix 70–71:
And in some sort boast “I have served my lords.”
New Par ⸢But what? And hath he painted once this while?
The < ⸢ > is neatly written, as is ‘New Par’ in the left margin, and suggests that in
these instances B. was saving space on the page, and that the paragraph already
formed part of the text from which he was copying; but this cannot be estab-
lished with certainty. In setting the poem in type, the printers of 1868–9 usually
suppressed paragraph breaks where these coincided with a line ending the page
(on a very few occasions, e.g. i 1219^1220, they left a blank line at the end of
the page, but this was evidently not standard practice). In determining whether
there should be a paragraph break in our text, we have followed MS and, where
appropriate, 1st Am.
(iv) Speech-marks
1868–9 has speech-marks before each line of an extended quotation, a feature of
Smith, Elder’s house style and one that does not usually occur spontaneously in B.’s
manuscripts. B. was clearly aware of the practice, and made some efforts in MS to
conform to it; these efforts, however, were neither comprehensive nor consistent in
method. In the early books of MS (e.g. bk. ii) there are passages which have no speech-
marks at the start of each line (e.g. ii 831–40, 842–61). In others, speech-marks were
clearly added in a later phase of revision: for example, in the first extended quotation
in the poem, the translation of the title page of the ‘old yellow book’ at i 121–31, B.
originally placed speech-marks only at the beginning and end of the quotation; the
speech-marks at the start of each line are in a darker ink and are written to the left
of the margin, with a visible gap between speech-mark and word. In this instance
B. wrote the individual marks at the start of each line, but in other places he drew
a pencil line down the l.m., indicating to the printers that speech-marks were to be
inserted to the end of the designated passage; the first instance of this shortcut occurs
at ii 466–84, and it occurs at least once in all books except x and xi. 1st Am. is more
consistent: it has speech-marks only at the start and end of quotations.
In passages where he did not supply speech-marks at the start of each line, B.
often forgot that inset quotations needed to be in single rather than double quota-
tion marks; but in any case the presentation of such ‘nested’ quotations is hap-
hazard in MS, and was presumably standardised at the proof stage; some errors
inevitably remained in 1868–9.
In conformity with LAEP house style, we give speech-marks at the start and end
of a quotation; we also use opening speech marks at the beginning of verse para-
graphs to indicate the continuation of a quotation.
(v) Book iv
Bk. iv is an anomaly in MS whose significance has not hitherto been fully explored.
In appearance it resembles the other books of the poem; at first glance it appears
to be one of the most lightly revised. For page after page there are no added lines,
and hardly any changes in wording or punctuation, whether ‘running’ or ‘second-
phase’ revs. However, on closer inspection bk. iv reveals some unique character-
istics. These begin to show themselves around l. 600, a little over a third of a way
through its 1,640 lines. Up to this point, collation of MS with 1868–9 records a
high number of variants, but most of these are within the bounds of B.’s normal
practice. For example, the following revs. were made to lines before l. 350 (1868–9
reading first):
52. a word and a wink—] a word in your ear,
90. when crony smirked] when friends exclaimed
147. missal beneath arm] missal under arm
262. a vineyard—no man’s land—] a vineyard not your own
320. bustling face] happy face
Even where revision involves the whole line, it is not out of character:
270. A stranger with no natural sort of claim] But strangers with no natural
claim at all
341. And social class to choose among, these cits.] Too good for the proper class
to choose among.
The first real indication of something unusual comes at ll. 595–6:
And made a life in common impossible.
Show me the stipulation of our bond
These lines in 1868–9 replace three lines in MS:
By making the stipulated provisions null,
The projected life in common impossible:
It was scarce part of the original pact
The MS lines cannot really be called metrical; from this point onward such non-
metrical lines proliferate. By the time we reach the 700s, the text has a distinc-
tively ‘prosaic’ feel, as though B. is copying from a very rough draft, only partially
versified, and is more concerned with getting the material down on paper than
making it scan, or adjusting its phrasing and cadence; for example, the descrip-
tion of the death of ‘Patrizj’, the officer in charge of the pursuit of Guido and his
accomplices, does little more than give a prosaic translation of the account in
Secondary Source (see ll. 1405–11n., p. 504). Paradoxically, B.’s method accounts
for the ‘clean’ look of the MS, since it is evident that he did not go over this por-
tion of MS before it was sent to the printers; for whatever reason, he must have
decided to revise bk. iv in proof, and this in turn accounts for the extensive changes
that had to be made at that stage. Yet there is no indication in the chronology
of composition of the poem that bk. iv gave him particular trouble, and when he
delivered the manuscript of the first six books to Smith in June 1868 he made no
particular mention of bk. iv as unfinished or in a rougher state than the others. This
is despite the presence in MS of ‘lines’ such as ‘It is impudently pretended, he had
the power to warp’ (replaced by l. 926); ‘Trying it by your own instinct also, since
that is to be the mode?’ (replaced by ll. 1009–10); ‘In the Law Courts,—let’s go on
clearly from this point, at least:’ (replaced by l. 1214), ‘For the very forbearance and
rational calm of a man’ (replaced by l. 1169), and ‘The five in a body proceeded,
reached the villa, / (The other, Pietro’s, by Santa Paolina) the silent and p ropitious’
(part of what became ll. 1366–70). The last line quoted, at 18 syllables (19 if ‘Paolina’
is pronounced as three), is the longest line in the whole of MS.
It is noteworthy that, having been given (of necessity) such close attention at the
proof stage of 1868–9, bk. iv is one of the least revised in 1872 and 1888.
(vi) Internal revision in MS

B. probably made the printer’s copy (MS) directly from his original draft, though
some sections may have gone through successive drafts; we have no way of being
certain, since none of this material survives, but the sheer length of the poem makes
it likely that only a small proportion of the original version was copied more than
once. The evidence of bk. iv (see preceding) suggests that the original draft was only
partly versified—that is, B. worked from a version in which some material was in
‘lines’ that barely scanned, or did not scan at all (on this issue, see John Woolford
and Daniel Karlin, Robert Browning [1996], ch. i [‘Composition and Influence’],
esp. pp. 16–21). The survival in MS of so many lines of this kind in bk. iv, and bk.
iv alone, remains a puzzle. What it implies, however, is that the process of copying,
or writing out the poem, was not mechanical, but involved composition as well
as transcription. The physical appearance of MS sometimes suggests that B. was,
indeed, rapidly copying from a more or less finished draft, while in other places he
was more actively engaged in composing the poem.
Table 1 shows the number of lines added to MS in the process of transcription.
It will be seen that the majority of additions were of single lines (180 out of 231
occurrences); the largest number of lines added was sixteen (at the start of bk. ix),
but this is an exceptional case; in only thirteen other places were more than two
lines added. The majority of the additions (251 out of 317) come in bks. vii–x, with
Table 1
Book Single lines Occurrences of more than one Total lines

added line added added
i 9 1 [7] 16
ii 4 — 4
iii 7 — 7
iv 7 — 7
v 6 4 [2/2/2/2 = 8] 14
vi 6 3 [2/2/2 = 6] 12
vii 63 10 [3/2/2/2/2/2/2/7/2/4 = 28] 91
viii 27 9 [2/3/3/2/2/2/2/2/3 = 21] 48
ix 27 12 [16/3/2/2/2/2/2/2/2/4/3/2 = 42] 69
x 20 9 [2/2/3/3/3/4/2/2/2 = 23] 43
xi 4 2 [2/2 = 4] 8
xii — — —
Total 180 51 [139] 319
the books comprising the third volume of the poem (vii–ix) accounting for nearly
two-thirds of the total. Bk. xi, Guido’s second monologue, the longest book of the
poem, is a notably ‘clean’ copy; the lack of any additions to bk. xii reflects the fact
that it was finished so close to publication.
Very few of the added lines seem to have been corrections of copying errors; this
kind of mistake is much more evident with single words or short phrases. Added
lines were themselves subject to revision, but there is only one example in the whole
of MS of an added line being left incomplete (x 130, p. 1027).
There are only three deletions of whole lines in MS, at ii 234^235 (p. 248), iv
74^75 (p. 424), and viii 1680^1681 (p. 915). The last of these is the only instance of
a line being added in MS and then deleted.
(a) Running revisions

The distinction between a running rev., made in the act of copying, and a second-
phase rev., is not always clear in MS, and some of our judgments are necessarily
conjectural; but there are a fair number of cases in which a running rev. is vis-
ible on the page, for example at x 579–80 where the Pope reflects that Guido, the
major predator in the story, had himself been made the prey of the Comparini: ‘as
the gor-crow treats / The bramble-finch so treats the finch the moth’. In MS, he
Another random document with
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Nell’impluvium di questa bella casa, sovra base di marmo, si
rinvenne un gruppo in bronzo del più puro stile greco e di
rimarchevole bellezza, raffigurante Ercole che ha raggiunto alla
corsa la cervetta, dalla bocca della quale usciva un getto di acqua, e
che per la poca cura che s’ebbe dapprincipio degli scavi si lasciò che
se ne privasse il Museo di Napoli, che solo ne serba una copia in
gesso, l’originale trovandosi nel Museo di Palermo. In questa casa,
come in diverse altre, nel fondo della abitazione si osserva un
lararium, nicchia o piccolo tabernacolo, con frontispizio, a custodia
dei domestici numi o lari, spiriti guardiani della famiglia. Vi si trovò
diffatti un idoletto di metallo, un vasetto e una moneta d’oro, e dodici
altre di bronzo di Vespasiano.
Per ciò solo che comprenda tre abitazioni e senza alcun altro
apparente motivo, dove non fosse un altare pel fuoco sacro nella
terza corte che somiglia a un tempio, non lungi dalla casa del
Chirurgo, della quale a suo luogo ho già intrattenuto il lettore, fu
detta casa delle Vestali, quella che è in Via delle Terme, e la quale
ha sulla soglia il saluto: salve. Ha essa tre cortiletti con portico
all’ingiro a colonne. Al lettore tenni già parola della casa di Cicerone,
che è nel Pagus Augustus Felix, nè vi aggiungerò altro.
Di moltissime altre già scoperte dovrei fare menzione, come di quella
dell’Argenteria, per molti vasi di questo metallo rinvenuti; di Cajo
Memmio, di Cajo Vibio, di Caprasio Primo, di Fusco, di Polibio, di
Pomponio, di Popidio Prisco, di Popidio Secondo, di Gavio Rufo, dei
Diadumeni, di Spurio Meseor (mietitore), di Giulia Felice, per non
dire di quelle altre moltissime che ricevettero nome da pitture o
sculture, o da qualche particolare circostanza come le case di Zeffiro
e Flora, di Venere, e Marte, delle Nereidi, di Nettuno, delle Amazoni,
di Atteone, delle Danzatrici; dell’Arciduca di Toscana, dell’Imperator
di Russia, di Giuseppe II, del Re di Prussia, della Regina
d’Inghilterra; dei vasi di vetro, dei tre piani, del torchio di terra cotta,
della muraglia nera, dei bronzi, dei fiori e vie via di tante altre; ma
come dissi, suppergiù l’una all’altra somiglia: le sole decorazioni più
o meno ricche distinguendole; rese poi più o meno interessanti dalla
preziosità dagli oggetti che vi si ritrovarono.
D’una sola tuttavia m’incombe il debito di particolarmente descrivere,
per ciò appunto che nella sua distribuzione e nelle diverse sue
attinenze diversifichi dalle altre: essa è posta nel sobborgo, nella via
delle Tombe, e si designa piuttosto come una casa suburbana o di
campagna.
Posta rimpetto al sepolcreto di Marco Arrio Diomede, liberto di Arrio,
maestro del Pagus Augustus Felix, come leggeremo sull’iscrizione di
esso nell’ultimo capitolo di quest’opera, si credette che la casa fosse
a lui spettata; onde proseguiamo noi pure a ritenerla per sua. Essa è
l’ultima abitazione a sinistra della via delle Tombe, e presentando
due piani, riesce indubbiamente di particolare interesse. La
descrizione di essa e la descrizione delle sue ville che fa Plinio il
Giovane nelle sue Epistole ci forniscono l’idea completa d’una
romana villeggiatura.
Si entra nella casa di M. Arrio Diomede, discendendo alcuni gradini
di marmo aventi a ciascun dei lati una colonnetta di materia laterizia.
Subito si presenta, come osserva Vitruvio parlando delle case di
campagna, una corte aperta, atrium, recinta da quattordici colonne di
ordine dorico pur di mattoni rivestiti di stucco che dovevano formar
portico. Questo medesimo piano, avendo verso il giardino una loggia
scoperta, lo dominava. Nella detta corte c’era un impluvium e da
ciascun lato stavano due puteali per attingervi l’acqua. A destra
dell’atrio, le camere per gli schiavi e una scaletta per ascendere al
piano superiore destinato forse alle donne; a sinistra, l’appartamento
per il balineum, o bagno privato, che già il lettore trovò parte a parte
descritto nel capitolo delle Terme. Dall’un dei portici dell’atrium si va
alla dispensa, dove intorno ad una tavola di marmo si trovarono
stoviglie da cucina. Quindi seguono i cubicula, o camere da letto, già
ricche di pitture e musaici. Il triclinium era nel mezzo di forma
semicircolare e le pareti dipinte a pesci natanti nell’acqua. Tre larghe
finestre riguardavano alla campagna e lo rendevano più allegro.
Ancora dalla corte scoperta si accedeva ad altro appartamento,
costituito da un’exedra, o sala da conversazione, e da altri salotti, da
cui si entrava in una galleria, su di una sala maggiore, oecus, e da
ultimo sulla loggia scoperta, sul giardino e per isfondo il mare. A
livello del giardino, v’è un appartamento terreno, le cui camere erano
a volte decorate di pitture e i pavimenti a musaici che or sono al
Museo. Sotto il portico era una fontana, e dal giardino si discendeva
alla lunga cella vinaria, che corre tutta la lunghezza di tre portici,
dove ho già detto altrove quanti scheletri e preziosi oggetti siano
stati rinvenuti e che era rischiarata da spiragli. Da un lato del
giardino vedesi un recinto che già notai essere stato un
sphæristerium, e all’angolo sinistro s’aprivano due piccole camere,
dove pure fu trovato uno scheletro con un braccialetto di bronzo ed
un anello d’argento.
Veduta così come fosse la casa pompejana, ed osservato ad un
tempo in che differisca la casa romana, naturale è il passaggio a
ragionare della famiglia, e lo farò con quella maggiore brevità che
ponno comportare l’economia dell’opera e l’importanza del subbietto.
Anzi tratto, parmi doveroso accennare quale fosse il vero principio
che tenesse unita e compatta la famiglia romana, perocchè tutto
quanto la riguarda sembrerà allora subordinato ad esso.
Chi per avventura lo ebbe ad indagare più profondamente e
giustamente, è per mio sentimento il signor Fustel de Coulanges
nell’opera già superiormente citata La Cité Antique, che meritamente
venne coronata dall’Accademia Francese e dovrebbe ancor meglio
essere apprezzata. Io indicherò un tale principio colle parole e
dimostrazioni di quell’illustre e dotto scrittore.
Il principio della famiglia antica — scrive egli — non è unicamente la
generazione. Ciò che lo prova è che la sorella non è nella famiglia
quello che vi è il fratello; è che il figlio emancipato o la figlia maritata
cessano completamente di farne parte, e per ultimo lo provano
parecchie altre disposizioni delle leggi greche e romane.
Il principio della famiglia non è tampoco, come potrebbe
agevolmente reputarsi dal lettore, l’affezione naturale. Imperocchè il
diritto greco e il diritto romano non tengono conto alcuno di un tal
sentimento. Esso può esistere in fondo dei cuori, ma non si trova nel
diritto. Il padre può esser tenero della sua figliuola, ma non può
legarle l’aver suo. Le leggi di successione, vale a dire, tra le leggi
quelle che più fedelmente attestano delle idee che gli uomini si
facevano allora della famiglia, sono in flagrante contraddizione, sia
coll’ordine della nascita, sia coll’affezione naturale [78].
Gli storici del diritto romano, avendo assai giustamente osservato
che nè la nascita, nè l’affetto fossero il fondamento della famiglia
romana, hanno creduto che questo fondamento si dovesse trovare
nella potenza paterna o maritale. Ma di tale potenza essi fecero una
specie di istituzione primordiale; non ispiegando per altro com’essa
siasi formata, a meno che non sia che per la superiorità del marito
sulla moglie, del padre sui figli.
Ora è un grave errore il collocare così la forza all’origine del diritto.
L’autorità paterna o maritale, ben lungi dall’essere stata una causa
prima, fu essa stessa un effetto: essa è derivata dalla religione e fu
stabilita da questa. Essa adunque non è il principio che ha costituito
la famiglia.
Ciò che nei membri della famiglia antica, fu qualche cosa di più
possente della nascita, del sentimento, della forza fisica: fu la
religione del focolare e degli antenati. Essa operò che la famiglia
formasse un corpo in questa e nell’altra vita. La famiglia antica è una
associazione religiosa più ancora che una associazione di natura. La
donna infatti non vi era veramente contata se non in quanto la sacra
cerimonia del matrimonio l’avesse iniziata al culto: il figlio non vi
contava pure, se rinunziava al culto, o se era emancipato, e
l’adottato invece vi era un vero figlio, perchè se non aveva il vincolo
del sangue, aveva qualche cosa di più, la comunanza del culto; e il
legatario che rifiutava d’adottare il culto di questa famiglia, non
conseguiva la successione e finalmente la parentela e il diritto
all’eredità erano regolati, non dietro la nascita, ma dietro i diritti della
partecipazione al culto, come gli ha stabiliti la religione. Certo che
non è la religione che ha creato la famiglia, ma è dessa sicuramente
che le ha dato le sue regole, e di là conseguitò che la famiglia antica
ebbe una costituzione così diversa da quella ch’essa avrebbe avuto
se i sentimenti naturali fossero stati soli a fondarla.
L’antica lingua greca aveva una parola ben significativa per
designare una famiglia; dicevasi επίστιον, parola che significa
letteralmente ciò che è appresso ad un focolare. Una famiglia era un
gruppo di persone alle quali la religione permetteva d’invocare lo
stesso focolare e d’offrire il banchetto funebre ai medesimi avi [79]. Si
comprende così l’importanza delle espressioni: pro aris et focis.
Premesso così quanto concerneva il principio fondamentale della
famiglia, pel migliore intendimento, debbo far precedere la
spiegazione, secondo il concetto romano, delle tre parole potestas,
manus, mancipium, nelle quali si compendiano i diritti esistenti nella
famiglia, ed allora meglio ancora verrà compresa la costituzione
della stessa.
Per la parola potestas, intendevano i Romani la potestà del padrone
sullo schiavo e quella del padre sui figli: per la parola manus, la
podestà alla quale le donne erano in certi casi sottomesse: e per la
parola mancipium, un diritto d’una certa natura, che se non è sì
agevole il definire, verrà nondimeno chiarito dalle dimostrazioni che
ne farò.
Qual fosse il potere del padrone sugli schiavi, dirò più avanti
parlando di costoro; quasi egualmente esteso era quello del padre
sui figli. L’ingresso del figlio nella famiglia, dice il sullodato signor
Fustel de Coulanges, era segnalato da un atto religioso. Era mestieri
dapprima che fosse accettato dal padre. Questi, a titolo di padrone e
di custode vitalizio del focolare, di rappresentante degli antenati,
doveva pronunciare se il nuovo arrivato fosse, o non fosse della
famiglia. La nascita non formava che il legame fisico: la
dichiarazione del padre costituiva il legame morale e religioso.
Questa formalità era egualmente obbligatoria a Roma come in
Grecia.
Occorreva di più pel figlio una specie d’iniziazione. Essa aveva luogo
poco tempo dopo la nascita, il nono giorno a Roma, il decimo in
Grecia. Quel giorno il padre riuniva la famiglia, chiamava de’
testimonj e faceva un sagrificio al suo focolare. Il figlio veniva
presentato al dio domestico; una donna lo portava nelle sue braccia
e correndo gli faceva fare più volte il giro del fuoco sacro. Questa
cerimonia aveva un duplice scopo, di purificare il bambino, cioè di
togliergli la macchia che gli antichi supponevano avesse contratto
pel solo fatto della gestazione e di iniziarlo al culto domestico. Da tal
momento il figlio era ammesso in questa specie di santa società e di
piccola chiesa che si chiamava la famiglia. Ne aveva la religione, ne
praticava i riti, era atto a dir le preghiere e più tardi dovrà essere egli
stesso un onorato antenato.
Tali solennità non si richiedevano per la figlia, appunto perchè ella
non potesse esser chiamata a continuare il culto della famiglia,
potendo il matrimonio applicarla ad un altro culto, come si dirà tra
poco.
Al punto di vista del diritto pubblico, era il figlio libero e indipendente
e poteva però esser magistrato, tutore e votare nella tribù e nella
classe del padre suo; ma al punto di vista del diritto privato, in
qualunque età rimaneva sotto la podestà del padre.
La donna in manu era considerata come la figlia del proprio marito, e
se questo medesimo era figlio di famiglia, veniva essa considerata,
come la figlia del figlio: nelle relazioni del padre di famiglia, diventava
mater familias e abbandonava la famiglia d’origine. La conventio in
manum, importava per sè una minima capitis diminutio, cioè il
cambiamento di famiglia; da non confondersi colla capitis diminutio
media, che significava una certa diminuzione di libertà, cioè la
perdita della cittadinanza, come la capitis diminutio maxima era la
perdita completa della libertà, lo che traeva seco la piena incapacità
civile. — Cessavano così nella donna i diritti d’agnazione o di
parentela civile fra lei e la sua antica famiglia.
Tuttavia la manus non era una conseguenza necessaria del
matrimonio; ma s’acquistava colla confarreazione, coll’uso e colla
coemzione. La prima consisteva in un solenne sacrificio, al quale
assistevano il gran pontefice, il flamine diale e dieci testimoni
cittadini romani, ma era riservato a’ patrizii, e i matrimoni così
celebrati si avevano per sacri. Dirò per altro più sotto degli altri riti
che precedevano od accompagnavano questa prima sorta di
matrimonio. L’uso, era quando la donna aveva abitato col marito
durante un anno senza interruzione e la donna che evitar voleva la
conventio in manum, bastava che ogni anno ella passasse tre notti
fuori del domicilio coniugale, lo che dicevasi trinoctium usurpatio. In
questo modo ella poteva farsi rivendicare dal padre suo, o dal tutore
e così riacquistare la libertà. La coemzione era una specie di
vendita, nella quale la donna, autorizzata dal padre o dal tutore, si
vendeva al suo marito. Questa era la forma primitiva del matrimonio
ed era certo anche la più semplice: epperò durò più lungo tempo.
Il padre investito della potestas e il marito della manus, potevano
vendere il loro figlio o la loro moglie ad un terzo e questa vendita che
aveva luogo colla mancipazione, dava al compratore un diritto che si
chiamava mancipium, equivalente alla proprietà; sì che mentre la
patria potestas e la manus cessavano alla morte del padre o del
marito, il mancipium passava agli eredi del compratore. Ciò
malgrado, la persona in mancipio, se non poteva esercitare i diritti
politici, non perdeva la sua prima condizione d’ingenuità, o civile.
Questo diritto si venne poco a poco restringendo, ridotto quasi
esclusivamente al caso che il figlio avesse cagionato un danno, nel
quale il padre lo cedeva alla persona lesa in mancipium, a titolo di
indennità.
Il debitore insolubile e chi si vendeva gladiatore, auctoratus, e il
romano prigioniero di guerra riscattato da un altro romano, si
trovavano nella medesima condizione di chi era in mancipio.
Ciò premesso, la famiglia romana si componeva di tutti gli individui
discesi da maschi da un autore comune, od entrati nella famiglia per
mezzo dell’adozione o della manus, che creavano dei veri vincoli di
figliazione. I diversi membri della famiglia si chiamavano agnati, e di
questi coloro che succedevano in linea retta, i figli ed altri
discendenti, dicevansi sui hæredes, i fratelli e sorelle consanguinei.
L’agnazione era la parentela del diritto civile, e però non poteva
appartenere nè ai latini, nè ai peregrini, cioè ai forastieri.
I Romani, inoltre, conoscevano la parentela naturale che dicevano
cognazione, cognatio, e si estendeva fino al settimo grado, ed una
terza parentela, l’affinità, ossia le relazioni esistenti fra un coniuge e i
parenti dell’altro coniuge.
Se il matrimonio presso i Romani era un’istituzione del diritto delle
genti, non era meno un’istituzione di diritto civile, regolandone il
diritto romano le condizioni e gli effetti, assolti i quali, si chiamava
legitimum matrimonium, ed anche justæ nuptiæ. La capacità di
contrattar un simile matrimonio, appellavasi connubium, e per regola
generale non era questo concesso che fra cittadini romani: per esser
concesso a’ peregrini, abbisognava dell’autorizzazione del potere
legislativo.
Modestino definiva il matrimonio: consortium totius vitæ, divini atque
humani juris comunicatio e Giustiniano vi aggiungeva: individuam
vitæ consuetudinem continens, ossia la completa e indivisibile
unione dell’uomo e della donna: ma ciò malgrado, il divorzio era
ammesso e ne veniva anche spesso abusato. Va per altro detto
come pel corso di cinque secoli non uno se ne avesse a contare: e
rimase ricordato dalle storie il nome di Carvilio Ruga che fu il primo
che ricorse a codesta misura. Non si creda però che ad essa fosse
fomite pensiero di lussuria od altra condannevole causa: egli
teneramente amava la moglie e di nulla aveva a lagnarsene, se non
che di sua sterilità; ma siccome nella formula del maritaggio aveva
giurato menarla sposa per aver de’ figli, ella non avendogliene dati,
sacrificò l’amore alla religione del giuramento [80]. La religione diceva
che la famiglia non doveva estinguersi e che ogni affezione e diritto
naturale dovessero cedere davanti a questa regola assoluta. Nè era
altrimenti in Grecia, dove Senofonte [81] e Plutarco [82] narrano che
quando il matrimonio fosse stato sterile per fatto del marito, dovesse
il fratello od un parente del marito sostituirsi a lui e la donna
accondiscendervi, e il figliuolo che ne fosse nato si avesse a
considerare come figlio del vero marito.
Ma del divorzio, col progredire del tempo, venne come dissi,
abusato, nè fu la voce della sola religione che il reclamò; ma
bastarono i litigi colla nuora, od anche l’impudicizia; e Paolo Emilio
ne allegò unicamente a causa l’essere stato dalla moglie offeso;
Sulpizio Gallo, perchè uscita a capo scoperto; Antistio Vetere,
perchè parlottò in segreto con una liberta volgare; Publio Sempronio,
perchè ita a’ giuochi senza sua saputa. Cicerone ripudiò Terenzia
dopo trent’anni di convivenza, perchè gli abbisognava una nuova
dote onde spegnere i debiti; e Publio perchè parve rallegrarsi della
morte di Tulliola. Essa Terenzia fu di Sallustio, poi di Messala
Corvino, poi di Vibio Rufo; Tulliola passò per tre mariti, e l’ultimo,
Dolabella, la ripudiò incinta. Bruto, il virtuoso Bruto, rinviò Claudia
per isposare Porcia. Un famoso ghiotto fu sul punto di cacciar la sua,
perchè in momenti critici visitò la cella dei vini, ch’e’ temeva se ne
inacidissero. Cajo Titinnio minturnese menò a bella posta la
scapestrata Fannia, per espellerla poi come impudica e tenersene la
dote. Cesare ebbe tre mogli, Pompeo quattro, quattro Augusto,
cinque o sei ciascun membro della famiglia di esso, e v’erano donne
che, al dir di Seneca (De Benef. III, 26) contavano gli anni dai mariti,
non dai consoli [83].
Il matrimonio era di consueto preceduto dagli sponsali, o promessa,
consistente in una stipulazione tra il futuro marito e il padre della
futura sposa: chi vi avesse dipoi mancato, era passibile dapprincipio
dell’azione di indennizzo: più innanzi si limitò a colpire d’infamia colui
che avesse mancato alla data fede e contratto altri sponsali.
L’età pel matrimonio era di dodici anni nella donna, di quattordici
nell’uomo, e quando gli sposi fossero alieni juris, occorreva il
consenso delle persone nella cui podestà si trovavano; per le
fanciulle, comunque sui juris, era indispensabile il consenso de’ loro
parenti e tutori.
L’importanza del matrimonio presso i Romani, come presso i Greci,
non si è presto compresa se non si designano i caratteri essenziali di
esso. Già superiormente ho toccato della religione domestica o del
focolare, e del come da casa a casa potesse differenziare, poichè
ogni padre-famiglia, essendo pontefice di tal religione nella propria
casa, serbasse o adottasse que’ riti che meglio a lui fossero piaciuti.
Ora è evidente che la fanciulla che andava a nozze dovesse
rinunciare alla religione del proprio focolare, per abbracciar quella
del focolare del marito. Così doveva dimenticare quelle cerimonie,
quelle preghiere, quelle pratiche nelle quali era fin allora cresciuta,
per apprenderne altre, e per dirla con Stefano di Bisanzio: «a datar
dal matrimonio, la donna ha nulla più di comune colla religione
domestica de’ suoi padri; ella sacrifica al focolare del marito.» E
Fustel de Coulanges che cita codesto scrittore nell’opera sua La Cité
Antique [84], soggiunse: «Così quando si penetra nel pensiero di
questi uomini antichi, si capisce di qual importanza dovesse essere
per essi l’unione conjugale e quanto l’intervento della religione vi
fosse necessario. Non era forse mestieri che la fanciulla avesse ad
essere da qualche sacra cerimonia iniziata al culto che doveva
quind’innanzi seguire? Per divenire sacerdotessa di questo focolare,
al quale la nascita non l’aveva legata, non le occorreva forse una
specie di ordinazione o di adozione?»
Il matrimonio era dunque la cerimonia santa che doveva produrre
questi grandi effetti. Gli scrittori infatti, latini e greci, indicano il
matrimonio con parole esprimenti un atto religioso. Polluce, che
viveva al tempo degli Antonini, istruttissimo ne’ vecchi usi e nella
antica lingua, dice che ne’ primi tempi, in luogo di designare il
matrimonio col suo nome particolare (γάμος), lo si designava
semplicemente colla parola τέλος, che significa cerimonia sacra [85],
quasi il matrimonio fosse stato la cerimonia sacra per eccellenza.
E tal cerimonia non si compiva ne’ templi degli Dei, ma nella casa,
ed era il Dio domestico che vi presiedeva. Certo che in seguito,
quando la religione degli dei del cielo, divenne preponderante, si
adottò di adire preventivamente i templi e di offrire a questi Dei
sacrifici che si chiamavano preludii del matrimonio; ma la parte
principale ed essenziale della cerimonia dovevasi sempre compiere
davanti il focolare domestico.
Il matrimonio romano, quello almeno che si considerò per più legale
e fu il più usitato, perchè procedente dal mutuo consenso, mutuus
consensus, somigliava d’assai al matrimonio greco, e comprendeva
com’esso tre atti: traditio, deductio in domum, confarreatio.
La prima si compiva dal padre, che distaccando la figliuola dal
domestico focolare e dalla propria autorità, la consegnava al marito
che l’assumeva nella propria.
Quindi la sposa veniva condotta a casa dello sposo, velata, recinta il
capo d’una corona, mentre una face nuziale precedeva il corteggio,
e si cantava un inno col ritornello Io! Hymen, Hymenee, e coll’altro
Talassia, parola quest’ultima della quale i Romani del tempo di
Orazio non comprendevano tampoco il senso. Il corteggio giungeva
avanti la casa del marito, dove veniva alla sposa presentato il fuoco
e l’acqua; il primo, il lettore già lo sa, emblema della divinità
domestica: la seconda è l’acqua lustrale che serve alla famiglia per
tutti gli atti religiosi. Allora lo sposo, a simulare il ratto, sollevava la
sposa nelle sue braccia e la portava in casa, senza che i piedi di lei
toccassero la soglia.
Finalmente ella è condotta davanti il focolare, dove sono i Penati, gli
dei domestici e le immagini dei maggiori: gli sposi fanno un sacrificio,
versano la libazione, profferiscono preghiere e mangiano insieme il
panis farreus, o focaccia di fior di farina; onde il nome al matrimonio
di confarreatio.
Codesta grave e solenne cerimonia produceva così importanti effetti
giuridici e sociali, da non potersi ammettere la poligamia.
La bigamia pertanto era severamente proibita: principale
impedimento al matrimonio era la parentela e l’affinità: il divieto fra
cognati e cognate non fu introdotto che sotto Teodosio. Si proibiva
pure il matrimonio fra liberi e schiavi, e nell’antico diritto anche fra
liberi e liberti; ma la proibizione di sposare liberti fu ristretta dalla
legge Giulia ai senatori ed ai loro discendenti, nè fu soppressa che
sotto Giustiniano.
Altre proibizioni esistevano, come fra una patrona e il suo liberto,
una donna libera e il colono d’un terzo — e colono era un uomo
libero sì, ma vincolato al suolo, tal che il proprietario del fondo
avesse una sorta di potestà su di lui, un diritto di correzione, non
potesse da lui esser tratto in giudizio e lo potesse, fuggitivo, trattar
come schiavo fuggiasco. — Era pur conteso il matrimonio tra il tutore
e la sua pupilla, l’adultera ed il suo complice, il rapitore e la rapita,
Romani e barbari, il governatore e una donna della sua provincia; a
meno che non ne avesse ottenuto dispensa dal Senato, e più tardi
dall’imperatore.
Più sopra ho detto del divorzio, ora veggiamo come seguisse la
separazione de’ coniugi.
Quando il matrimonio era seguito per confarreazione, la separazione
si compiva con una cerimonia detta diffarreatio. Siccome la religione
aveva operata la confarreatio; così anche la diffarreatio doveva
essere compiuta dalla religione, perchè essa sola poteva slegare ciò
che aveva congiunto. I due sposi che volevano dividersi
comparivano per l’ultima volta davanti il focolare: presenti un
sacerdote e i testimonj. Si presentava ai conjugi, come al dì del loro
matrimonio, una focaccia di fior di farina ed essi in luogo di spezzarla
e mangiarla, la respingevano, quindi in luogo di preghiere
pronunciavano formule d’un carattere strano, severo, odioso e
spaventevole, come assicura Plutarco [86], una specie insomma di
maledizione per la quale la moglie rinunciava al culto ed agli dei del
marito. Da quel punto il legame religioso era rotto e cessando la
comunanza del culto, cessava pure di pieno diritto ogni altra
comunanza e il matrimonio era disciolto. Ma il divorzio vi succedette
di poi, talmente che bastò la volontà d’un solo conjuge a far cessare
il matrimonio dietro la semplice formula, Res tuas tibi habeto, cioè
pigliati le tue robe. Anche la donna sottomessa alla manus era libera
di divorziare, mandando al marito il libello del repudium e forzandolo
ad affrancarla dalla manus: se la donna divorziava senza motivo, il
marito riteneva il sesto della dote per ciascun figlio sino alla
concorrenza di tre sesti, il marito adultero perdeva il beneficio del
termine alla restituzione della dote.
Il marito investito della manus aveva sulla moglie il diritto più esteso
di correzione, poteva ucciderla persino quando colta in flagrante
adulterio: ne’ casi gravi dovea pigliar avviso da’ parenti. Il marito che
non aveva la manus, dovevasi limitare al repudium, perchè il diritto
di correzione spettasse soltanto al padre di lei od a’ parenti.
La moglie, andando a marito, poteva portare la dote, a minorazione
delle spese del matrimonio, anzi le leggi Giulia, Papia e Poppea ne
imposero l’obbligo al padre. Essa poteva eziandio costituirsi da un
terzo o dalla sposa medesima, quando fosse stata sui juris.
Costituivasi la dote in tre modi, colla dizione, colla stipulazione, o
colla dazione, ossia collo sborso reale della stessa. Doveva farsene
il pagamento, pei mobili entro dieci mesi, per denaro in uno, due, o
tre anni; e circa i lucri e la restituzione, potevasi convenire, come si
fa pur oggidì. Libera la donazione per causa di matrimonio, donatio
propter nuptias: era nulla e revocabile fino alla morte del donatore,
se fatta fra sposi.
La vedova, pena l’infamia, non poteva rimaritarsi che dopo dieci
mesi dalla morte del marito; gli imperatori portarono questo tempo
ad un anno.
Esisteva poi un altro modo di convivenza della donna coll’uomo
autorizzata dalla legge e in ispecie dalle suddette leggi Giulia, Papia
e Poppea, e dicevasi concubinato, ed aveva d’ordinario luogo fra
quelle persone che non potevano sposarsi fra loro. La concubina era
stata per consueto la donna di cattiva fama, la liberta o la schiava. Il
concubinato tra il patrono e la liberta era il più frequente e il più
protetto dalle leggi.
Or tocchiamo qualche cenno sulla patria podestà.
Il Padre era quello, dissero i romani giureconsulti, che è dimostrato
tale da giuste nozze: pater est quem justæ nuptiæ demonstrant: il
figlio legittimo era dunque colui che derivava da queste giuste nozze.
Fuori di queste, il figlio non poteva invocare che la figliazione
materna. Se vi era stato connubium, il figlio seguiva la condizione
del padre; se no, quella della madre: nel primo caso era sottomesso
alla potestà del padre; ma conveniva per ciò che padre e figlio
fossero e restassero cittadini romani, e allora essa podestà durava
tutta la vita dell’investito, ed estendevasi a tutti i discendenti in linea
diretta, senza distinzione di grado.
Aveva il padre diritto di vita e di morte sul figlio, poteva giudicarlo in
caso di crimine e condannarlo, escludendo i tribunali publici; e la
severità dei costumi stava mallevadrice che il colpevole non sarebbe
impunito. Più tardi fu imposto a’ padri il concorso de’ magistrati nei
casi gravi; ma così restò sempre il potere de’ padri, che giammai si
accordasse l’azione d’ingiuria ne’ figli contro di essi.
Potevan essi vendere i figli; ma cessava il potere paterno dopo la
terza vendita, per le figlie dopo la prima: i figli non perdevano però la
loro qualità di ingenui.
Tutto quanto i figli acquistassero era pel padre, ma esercitandone un
mestiere diverso, per consueto il padre loro abbandonava quel
peculio, che per altro non potevano senza il di lui consenso alienarlo
a titolo gratuito o per testamento. Augusto tuttavia concesse a’ figli
disporre liberamente per testamento ed anche tra’ vivi del peculium
castrense, ossia del peculio guadagnato all’armata.
Uno speciale diritto trovasi ricordato dagli storici concesso alle
famiglie che fossero numerose di figliuolanza, e veniva perciò
denominato jus trium, quatuor, vel quinque liberorum, o natorum,
diritto, cioè, dei tre, dei quattro o dei cinque figli.
Importa se ne dica qui alcuna cosa.
A Roma, fin dal tempo della repubblica, come altrove in questa mia
opera ho già scritto, le continue guerre avevano d’assai diminuito la
popolazione, e tale diminuzione di cittadini era venuta crescendo in
ragione diretta del lusso e della corruzione. Metello Numidico
censore tenne, appunto in vista di una tale straordinaria diminuzione
di popolazione, a’ suoi concittadini una allocuzione tendente ad
esortarli a pigliarsi moglie, e se le parole da lui dette e riferite da
Aulo Gellio furono veramente le sue, ebbe questo scrittore ragione di
soggiungere che fossero poco proprie a conseguirne l’intento,
perocchè enumerando esse le cure e gli inconvenienti del
matrimonio, non fosse il modo più conveniente per persuaderlo. Tito
Castrico invece, opinando che il linguaggio d’un censore dovesse
essere ben diverso da quello di un retore, trovò che Metello avesse
la sua concione debitamente conformata al soggetto. Giudichi ora il
lettore a qual dei due la ragione.
«Romani — avrebbe così parlato il Censore — se noi potessimo
vivere senza moglie, tutti noi eviteremmo tal noja; ma poichè la
natura abbia voluto che non ci fosse dato nè vivere tranquillamente
con una moglie, nè viverne senza, occupiamci allora della perpetuità
della nostra nazione anzi che della felicità d’una vita che è sì corta.
La potenza degli Dei è grande, ma la loro benevolenza a riguardo
nostro non deve andar più in là di quella de’ nostri parenti. Questi, se
noi perfidiamo nella via dell’errore, ci diseredano: che dovremmo
attenderci dagli Dei immortali, se noi non imponiamo un fine a’ nostri
traviamenti? L’uomo, per meritare i favori loro, non deve essere il
suo proprio nemico. Gli Dei debbono ricompensare la virtù ma non
darla» [87].
Ciò che le guerre esterne ed il lusso avevano incominciato, le guerre
civili compirono; de’ pochi cittadini rimasti, la più parte non erano
ammogliati; onde Cesare, pervenuto alla dittatura, sua prima cura
era stata di studiare il modo di por freno al male. Parvegli dapprima
potessero giovare le ricompense, epperò, come riferisce Svetonio,
distribuì le terre della Campania fra venti mila cittadini padri di tre o
più figli e vietò alle donne al disotto de’ quarantacinque anni e che
non avessero nè marito nè figli di portar giojelli e di valersi di lettiga.
Dopo di lui, Augusto nel 736 u. c. pubblicò la legge De Maritandis
Ordinibus, che ventisette anni poi si rifuse nella legge Papia Poppea,
così denominata dai suoi due proponenti Marco Papio Mutilo e
Quinto Poppeo Secondo, e nuovi oneri vennero imposti a quelli che
non fossero ammogliati e nuovi privilegi aggiunti per contrario a’
matrimoni fecondi. De’ due consoli, a cagion d’esempio, colui che
avesse avuto numero maggiore di figli prendeva pel primo i fasci; tra
più candidati veniva accordata la preferenza al padre di più
numerosa figliuolanza. Ma tra i più importanti capitoli di questa legge
e di cui l’applicazione era la più frequente, era quello che esentava
da ogni carico il padre che in Roma avesse avuto tre figli; in Italia, il
padre di quattro; nelle provincie, il padre di cinque.
Altri molti privilegi erano consentiti a questo jus trium, quatuor,
quinque natorum, ed appetiti assai eran quelli che apportavano a chi
ne fosse investito la triplice porzione di frumento nelle distribuzioni
che si facevano dagli imperatori e la facoltà di sedere in un posto
distinto negli spettacoli.
Pel contrario, eranvi pene per coloro che si fossero serbati celibi.
Così costoro non potevano raccogliere eredità, nullo era il legato a
lor favore disposto, che però devolvevasi al fisco; ed è a coteste
disposizioni della legge Pappia Poppea che l’acre Giovenale allude
in que’ versi:
Nullum ergo meritum est, ingrate ac perfide, nullum

Quod tibi filiolus vel filia nascitur ex me?
Tollis enim et libris actorum spargere gaudes
Argumenta viri. — Foribus suspende coronas,
Iam pater es: dedimus quod famæ opponere possis:
Iura parentis habes; propter me scriberis hæres,
Legatum omne capis, nec non et dulce caducum
Commoda præterea jungentur multa caducis;
Si numerum, si tres implevero [88].
Ma siccome non v’abbia cosa, per savia che possa essere, della
quale non venga abusato; così ben presto le eccezioni a questa
provvida legge divennero numerose più che non fossero le
applicazioni e il jus trium natorum con tutti gli inerenti privilegi
vennero concessi anche a persone che non contassero tre figli e
vivamente sollecitati.
Sappiam dagli epigrammi di Marziale come egli avesse ottenuto
questo diritto dei tre figli da Tito e da Domiziano, esso
annunziandolo alla moglie siccome ottenuto in mercede de’ suoi
poetici studi [89]; e dalle Epistole di Cajo Plinio Cecilio Secondo,
denominato il Giovane, com’egli lo avesse sollecitato da Trajano ed
anche conseguito a favore di Svetonio Tranquillo, lo storico dei
Dodici Cesari.
Quanta importanza si aggiungesse a cotale diritto è agevole
comprendere, oltre che dal valore dei surriferiti privilegi che vi erano
annessi, dalla risposta altresì che l’Imperatore faceva a quella
domanda del suo diletto Plinio e che mette conto di riferire nella
fedele e buona versione del Paravia.
«Trajano a Plinio.
«Quanto sia parco nel conceder sì fatte grazie, tu lo sai certo, o mio
carissimo Secondo, protestando io di continuo anche in Senato di
non averne mai trapassato quel numero, che io dissi bastarmi
dinanzi a quell’illustre consesso; ciò nondimeno io satisfeci al tuo
desiderio, ordinato avendo che si noti ne’ miei registri, aver io
conceduto a Svetonio Tranquillo il privilegio de’ tre figliuoli con le
solite condizioni» [90].
Forse di questi scrupoli di Trajano, non ebbero gli altri imperatori.
La patria podestà poteva risultare anche dall’adozione, e dalla
legittimazione. Quest’ultima aveva luogo quando il padre pigliava la
concubina per legittima sposa, quando faceva inscrivere il figlio sulla
lista de’ curiali, e quando, come poi fu disposto da Giustiniano,
l’imperatore l’accordava con suo rescritto.
Quanto all’adozione, essa era altro necessario effetto di quel
principio che ho già ricordato, o piuttosto dovere che vi era di
perpetuare il culto domestico. Adottare, disse Cicerone nell’orazione
Pro Domo sua, è chiedere alla religione ed alla legge ciò che non si
è potuto ottenere dalla natura; e tanto era ciò vero, che si compiva
mediante una sacra cerimonia, che sembra essere stata eguale a
quella che facevasi al nascere di un figlio. Così, divenendo al figlio
adottato comuni col padre adottivo numi, oggetti sacri, riti e
preghiere, dicevasi di lui in sacra transiit, come l’Oratore potè dire
nella succitata arringa amissis sacris paternis, per rinunziare
coll’adozione al domestico culto paterno. L’adottato addiveniva poi
così affatto straniero alla sua antica famiglia, che morendo, il padre
naturale di lui non aveva il diritto d’incaricarsi de’ suoi funerali o di
condurre il mortoro, precisamente perchè adoptio naturam imitatur,
come si esprimono i romani giureconsulti, e dei diritti, come degli
obblighi paterni, diveniva l’adottante assuntore.
L’emancipazione era poi l’atto che sottraeva il figlio alla patria
podestà, affinchè potesse accettar l’adozione. Precipuo effetto di
essa era la rinunzia al culto della famiglia, nella quale s’era sortito i
natali, e l’abdicazione a tutti gli inerenti doveri. Consuetudo, scrisse
Servio, apud antiquos fuit ut qui in familia transiret et prius se
abdicaret ab ea in qua natus fuerat [91]. Si chiamava però
l’emancipazione da’ Romani, secondo Cicerone e come abbiam
veduto, amissio sacrorum [92], e secondo Aulo Gellio, sacrorum
detestatio [93].
Le persone sui juris, che per l’età si fossero trovate incapaci
d’esercitare i loro diritti, ricevevano un tutore. D’ordinario veniva
designato dal padre; la madre lo poteva del pari eleggere nel
testamento, ma conveniva intervenisse l’approvazione del
magistrato. In difetto di tutore testamentario, la tutela passava agli
agnati. La tutela de’ liberti spettava al patrono ed a’ suoi discendenti.
In difetto anche di essi, devolvevasi ai gentiles, cioè, come dice
Cicerone citando l’autorità di Scevola, a quelli che hanno lo stesso
nome e discesero da’ maggiori che mai non furono schiavi [94], e
questi puro mancando, su domanda delle parti interessate, si
conferiva da’ magistrati competenti. Le donne, eccettuata la madre, i
pupilli, e dopo Giustiniano, i minori de’ venticinque anni, erano
incapaci ad assumere la tutela. Se lo schiavo venisse per
testamento nominato tutore, per ciò solo significava ch’esso veniva
fatto libero, non potendo come schiavo esercitar l’ufficio di tutore.
Il tutore amministrava i beni del pupillo e completava col proprio
intervento ciò che a quest’ultimo mancasse per compiere
validamente i diversi atti della vita civile. Circa l’educazione del
pupillo, questa non era cosa che spettasse al tutore. La tutela finiva
per gli uomini a quattordici anni; la legge Pletoria accordò
nondimeno l’azione penale e infamante contro chi avesse abusato
della inesperienza de’ minori di 25 anni.
La tutela delle femmine era d’una durata indeterminata: le Vestali
però e la madre prolifica erano prosciolte dalla medesima.
Eravi anche la curatela. Il pazzo e il prodigo tenevansi incapaci di far
alcun atto della vita civile; epperò o tra gli agnati o tra i gentili
eleggevasi il curatore e in loro mancanza eleggevalo il pretore.
Ma nella casa romana, o pompeiana che si voglia dire, non erano
soltanto codesti gli individui che vi abitavano; anzi, fin dal primo
ingresso, non era nei padroni, nelle persone, cioè, che finora abbiam
considerato, che si scontrava; ma nell’ostiarius, nello janitor, nel
nomenclator, nell’atriensis, ecc., in esseri infelici insomma, che la
civiltà, ajutata dal Vangelo, tolse di mezzo, negli schiavi intendo dire,
servi, i quali reclamano adesso da me particolari cenni.
Tutti i popoli dell’antichità avendo avuto schiavi, i giureconsulti
collocarono la schiavitù fra le istituzioni del diritto delle genti.
Diventando lo schiavo un membro della famiglia, e dovendo però
parteciparne al culto, la sua prima introduzione in casa era
accompagnata da cerimonia religiosa. Comuni ai due popoli greci e
latini molti riti e consuetudini, lo schiavo entrava in famiglia
mettendolo in presenza della divinità domestica: quindi gli si versava
sulla testa dell’acqua lustrale e divideva colla famiglia la focaccia e le
frutta. Prendeva poscia parte alle preghiere ed alle feste della casa,
come Cicerone ricordò in quelle espressioni Ferias in famulis
habento [95], e così il focolare proteggeva pur esso, e la religione dei
Lari apparteneva tanto a lui che al padrone: quum dominis, tum
famulis religio Larum [96], di qui il diritto dello schiavo ad essere
sepolto nel sepolcreto della famiglia.
Lo schiavo apparteneva come cosa al padrone, il quale però poteva
venderlo, punirlo e uccidere perfino. Ecco il conto che ne faceva
Giovenale e che riassume la generale estimazione che si aveva di
essi:
Pone crucem servo. Meruit quo crimine servus

Supplicium? quis testis adest? quis detulit? audi:
Nulla satis de vita hominis cunctatio longa est.
O demens! ita servus homo est? Nihil fecerit: esto
Sic volo, sic jubeo; stet pro ratione voluntas [97].
Non poteva lo schiavo scendere in giudizio, non contrar matrimonio;

e l’unione sua era come semplice relazione di atto e dicevasi
contubernium, nome che, secondo Columella, significava anche il
domicilio di una coppia di schiavi, maschio e femmina [98].
Tuttavia ho già in addietro reso conto della legge Petronia, forse del
tempo d’Augusto, perocchè non mi consti che gli scrittori ne
accertassero l’epoca di sua promulgazione, e la quale comminava
severe pene a chi vendesse schiavi per farli combattere contro le
belve nel circo e vietava punirli di morte, senza permesso di
magistrati, classificandolo anzi come crimen publicum: qui era
l’opportunità di ricordarla di nuovo.
E fu il principio d’un miglior trattamento, finchè Ulpiano ebbe a
consegnare nelle sue opere questa ancor più umana sentenza: ipsi
servo facta injuria inulta a prætore reliqui non debuit [99].
Nondimeno, malgrado però che la giurisprudenza riconoscesse in
progresso di tempo che lo schiavo fosse un uomo, in pratica non
poteva togliersi di dosso mai la qualità di schiavo, nè considerarsi
eguale all’uomo libero.
Eranvi molti modi di diventare schiavo. Lo si era per nascita, quando
la madre al momento del parto fosse schiava; lo divenivano i
prigionieri di guerra, come già dissi altrove; i cittadini che non si
prestavano al censimento od alla leva; la persona libera che si
lasciava vendere per frode onde rivendicare in seguito la libertà e
finalmente, pel senato-consulto Claudiano, la donna libera che
viveva in concubinato collo schiavo d’un terzo e rifiutava
separarsene malgrado gli avvertimenti del padrone. I condannati a
morte, alle miniere, alle bestie, al circo, diventavano schiavi della
pena, servi pœnæ.

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The Poems of Browning. Volume Five.

The Ring and the Book, Books 1-6 1st

John Woolford is Emeritus Professor of Nineteenth-Century Literature

Daniel Karlin is Emeritus Professor of English Literature at the University

Joseph Phelan is Professor of Nineteenth-Century Literature at De

The Poems of Alexander Pope, Volume Three

The Complete Poems of John Donne

Robert Browning: Selected Poems

The Complete Poems of Shakespeare

The Poems of Alexander Pope, Volume One

The Poems of W. B. Yeats: Volume One: 1882–1889

The Poems of W. B. Yeats: Volume Two: 1890–1898

The Poems of Ben Jonson

The Poems of Robert Browning: Volume V

The Poems of Robert Browning Volume VI

For more information about the series, please visit: www.routledge.com/Longman-

First published 2022

Note by the General Editors viii

THE RING AND THE BOOK1

For permission to consult, and quote from, manuscripts of poems, letters,

The published volumes of The Brownings’ Correspondence, edited by

Frontispiece. Title page of the ‘old yellow book’, the source

I. Editions of The Ring and the Book

(a) Editions publ. in B.’s lifetime

(b) Editions publ. after B.’s death

Thomas Y. Crowell, 1898); Ring occupies vols. vi–vii.

B&P Bells and Pomegranates [series title: see Appendix B,

(a) Longer works after 1871 (all publ. by Smith, Elder)

(b) Volumes of shorter poems after

III. Letters (incl. those of Elizabeth Barrett Browning)

1890, ed. G. R. Hudson (1965)

Robert Browning: A Bibliography 1830–1950 (Ithaca,

Browning’s The Ring and the Book, in complete photo-

(v) Italy in B.’s life and work 58

(vi) The lawyers 124

I Text and publication

II Composition and date

(May/June) Shows bks. i–vi to publisher, George Smith.

(i) The date of B.’s acquisition of the ‘old yellow book’

(ii) B.’s decision to write a poem based on OYB

The ‘M.S account’ is Morte dell’Uxoricida Guido Franceschini Decapitato [The

(iii) Phases of composition

He mentioned it again, in similar terms, in a letter to Mrs [Emelyn] Story of 22 Aug.

(iv) Final phase of composition

(v) The title

(vi) Selling the poem: Ring as a commercial venture

B. must have expressed his long-held dislike of publishing in magazines; on 15 July

III The manuscript

(vi) Internal revision in MS

Book Single lines Occurrences of more than one Total lines

(a) Running revisions

Nullum ergo meritum est, ingrate ac perfide, nullum

Pone crucem servo. Meruit quo crimine servus

Non poteva lo schiavo scendere in giudizio, non contrar matrimonio;

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Note by the General Editors viii

THE RING AND THE BOOK1