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Reviewed by:
  • Village Justice: Community, Family, and Popular Culture in Early Modern Italy
  • Rudolph M. Bell
Village Justice: Community, Family, and Popular Culture in Early Modern Italy. By Tommaso Astarita (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1999. xxiv plus 305pp. $45.00 hardcover).

More than ten months after receiving initial reports of cold-blooded maritucide, the feudal court of the Università of Pentidattilo, situated at the southernmost tip of the Kingdom of Naples, today convicted one of three conspirators accused in the murder of Antonino Cuzzucli, sentencing Anna de Amico to fifteen years in the women’s prison at the Great Court palace of the Vicaria in Naples. No parole is possible, but if she survives the horrid conditions there, hardly likely, she is to be molested no further. Although only an accomplice, Anna is a notorious abortionist and an outsider to these parts, so she got what she deserved in the eyes of the village notables who gathered to witness the verdict and express their approbation. She provided the bedroom where the two other accused, Domenica Orlando and Pietro Crea, met to carry out their lovers’ trysts, and then she brought their evil plans to fruition by supplying the rat poison administered by Domenica not once, but twice, before it finally killed off her unwanted husband.

After a swift inquiry last March developed enough facts to make plain to everyone what had happened, all pointing to the truthfulness of Domenica’s confession implicating the other two as well, the court had been dragging its feet on the case. First, Anna and Pietro pleaded indigency, so a public defender had to be found for them. Second and more perplexing, since Anna and Pietro each denied any involvement in what amounts to a classic “he-said-she-said” case, only torture could bring out the truth, and officials may have doubted its efficacy in a domestic dispute like this one. Hanging for an hour is dreadfully painful, but the law requires that the accused not be reduced to the point of death, whereas an admission of guilt would have carried the risk of capital punishment or a potentially fatal jail sentence. Firm denials by the two accomplices left Domenica’s confession as the only evidence against them. And one person’s word, even if affirmed under torture, is not legally sufficient to convict. Yes, Anna was found guilty anyway, but only as a consequence of her unsavory reputation.

Then Domenica escaped from the local prison, probably quite recently, although it could have been over six months ago given how slowly news gets around, and now no one seems to be interested in finding her. She is guilty for sure, but at least she confessed voluntarily, and then under torture she adhered to her earlier incrimination of her two accomplices. What can you expect from [End Page 248] a married woman, however unhappily situated, who admits that she was smitten by a few sweet words said by her unexpected new visitor, so at the sight of him removing his clothes, she also undressed and they jumped into bed and knew each other? That was the first time. Over the following months, perhaps fearful that her husband’s kinsmen might catch her in the act (although there was no danger from him personally since he usually stayed with his relatives in a neighboring town and seldom bothered to come home at all) Domenica and Pietro did their sporting at Anna’s adjacent house, and there it was that he promised to marry her once Antonino was out of the way, or so she said. Villagers, all seven hundred of them, seem content to be rid of her, certainly the men who count, and possibly their wives as well for other obvious reasons. Justice has been served and she shall not be heard from again, except maybe by those who frequent brothels.

As to Pietro, well, job-related extenuating circumstances deserve consideration; he is Pentidattilo’s forest guardian, an experience that apparently turned him into a creature of instinct, dangerously removed from the civilizing routines and rituals which keep other locals from casually trying to possess their neighbors’ wives and daughters. Also to the point...

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