Artemisia, Part 12 of 12

A Daniel, Come to Judgment! Before I give my judgment in this case, my custom is to have the plaintiff read aloud, before the other party, face to face the statute law that’s pertinent. The screed, Miss Gentileschi, starts off half-way down the right-hand page. So, now. Big voice. Proceed. Miss Gentileschi? Why the worried frown? The only effort I require of you is reading from the law book. Half this town regards itself as able to outdo great Cicero in oratory. How quaint! You’ve taken on a most unhealthy hue, and look as if you’re just about to faint. Zitella, what’s your difficulty? Read! No sound? No humble squeak? Then let your plaint suffice at common law. Well, there’s no need, claims Mister Tassi, to defend his acts. For if you prick us girls, do we not bleed? Against this argument, I raise the facts. Young women, once seduced, are damaged goods. The selfishness of men gravely impacts on innocent lives. Our “woulds” and “shoulds” we readily apply to other folk. The poor are first to drown when Tiber floods. So, I’m not with you, sir. You tried to poke around the Molinists, with small success: you fried the white, but hardly touched the yolk of that philosophy. If we confess to all the sins there are, and more beside, does God regard us one iota less to blame, if culpability’s denied because there’s no free will? That cannot be. We all know right from wrong. Right here. Inside. There was an argument of yours I liked. You said, sometimes, these things just come about. It’s no-one’s fault. But that was spiked by Stiattesi. Reading your poem out, he showed how carefully you’d planned this thing, and orchestrated others. Not a doubt. We’ve all been young. We know about a fling, and how the blood can overrule the head. We understand how cosy coquetting can easily take on another form. That said, you forced this woman, over many weeks, (this, after you had robbed her maidenhead) to let you gratify your lust. It reeks of callous cowardice and cruelty. You are the seediest of sordid sneaks! In fairness to you (fair I try to be), you say this woman wrote a billet-doux containing every low obscenity, attempting to entice you. What to do? This Court is more than willing to concede that most young girls are sure to follow through on such an offer. That’s consent, indeed! But sir, you saw her stumble on my text. She never wrote that letter. She can’t read! What mercy did you show her, as you flexed your muscles over her? I’ve none for you. The sentence, ten years’ exile. Step down. Next!