DISSERTATION Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements For

Home , Arachne, Canibus, Carmenta, Damo (philosopher), Epistolae familiares, Metrocles

EMBODYING DIOTIMA: CLASSICAL EXEMPLA AND THE LEARNED LADY

DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of The Ohio State University

Quinn Erin Griffin

Graduate Program in Greek and Latin

The Ohio State University

2016

Dissertation Committee:

Professor Frank Coulson, Advisor

Professor Richard Fletcher

Professor Jonathan Combs-Schilling

Quinn Erin Griffin

2016

ABSTRACT

My dissertation topic was inspired by an exam field completed in Italian

Humanism, a Renaissance movement characterized by a renewed attention to ancient literature. I found in my reading that female scholars were rarely included in the works dealing with the period as a whole. Rather, they are covered in separate volumes, usually catalogued under “women’s studies.” Femaleness, it seems, tends to “trump” other identifiers (humanist, scholar, philosopher, etc.) and to preclude belonging in larger movements. One manifestation of this trend is the catalogue of exemplary women, a genre often employed in the praise of learned women in the humanist period. Such catalogues rely primarily on ancient women as examples of conduct for the Reniassance woman, citing such characters as Lucretia, Hortensia, Sappho, Diotima, and Hipparchia.

While such works ostensibly praise the learned woman, they also isolate her from her male peers, creating separate spaces and standards for male and female intellectualism.

My dissertation demonstrates that both male and female authors of the period used such exempla to define the form and scope of female intellectualism, looking back to ancient learned women as a way of contextualizing the growing number of educated women. Cassandra Fedele (1465-1558) of Venice appears as a new entry into the traditional catalogue of exempla, her work obscured by the mythologization of her character; Laura Cereta (1469-1499) of Brescia, in contrast, reworks exempla to create a

ii lineage of learned women in dialogue with one another; Tarquinia Molza (1542-1617) of

Modena appears as a “New Diotima” in a work that relies on the audience’s understanding of the learned woman as exemplum to create false expectations for Molza’s character; and Clemenza Ninci (mid-17th century) of Prato chooses just one exemplum,

Hipparchia of Maroneia, to construct a philosophical system allowing for increased female agency in the setting of the cloister.

These findings suggest that the works presented here need not be restricted to the field of women’s studies. Each of these authors in fact represents a different approach to

Classics as a discipline: where Fedele, for example, uses Classical texts to preserve the past, Cereta uses them to construct a vision of the future. Texts by and about early modern women can therefore be a valuable intermediary for students of Classics, as they demonstrate various attempts to relate the Classical tradition to the creation of one’s own scholarly voice and vision, expanding our understanding of what it means to do Classics.

iii

Dedication This document is dedicated to Hayes Griffin.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My deepest thanks to Frank Coulson for his eternal good humor, sage advice and continual support of my development as a human being and a scholar; to Richard

Fletcher, for his creativity and spark, and the initial organization of this project; to

Jonathan Combs-Schilling, for providing a new and enthusiastic perspective on my topic.

Thank you to Julia Hawkins and Alison Beach for laying the groundwork for my interests in women’s studies; to Anne-Marie Lewis, Roger Fisher, and Jennifer and Terry

Tunberg, for their generous support out in the Neo-Latin world; to Garrett Jacobsen, for his much-needed wit and wisdom during my undergraduate days and beyond.

My sincerest appreciation goes out to Erica Kallis for her tireless work in support of the Classics Department; and to Kara and Wayne for their past work there.

Thank you to my family for their love, encouragement, and patience. I see in myself and remain extremely grateful for P. Radziszewski’s “radar” insight and attention to detail; R. Radziszewski’s drive and intelligence; and Sisi’s imagination and inspiration. Finally, all of my love and thanks to Hayes, for enduring the ups and downs of the graduate school years, providing an endless supply of optimism and support, and ensuring that I never “get above my raisin.” Ti amo, ragazzo!

VITA

2006...... Dublin Jerome High School

2010...... B.A. Classics, Denison University

2010 to present ...... Graduate Teaching Associate, Department

of Classics, The Ohio State University

PUBLICATIONS

Review. Reading Lucretius in the Renaissance, by A. Palmer. Bryn Mawr Classical

Review 6 May 2015. BMCR 2015.05.06.

FIELDS OF STUDY

Major Field: Greek and Latin

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Abstract ...... ii Dedication ...... iv Acknowledgments...... v Vita ...... vi List of Tables ...... ix

1. INTRODUCTION...... 1 Renaissance Woman: Theory and Practice ...... 7

Cassandra Fedele ...... 19

Laura Cereta ...... 24

Tarquinia Molza ...... 29

Clemenza Ninci ...... 34

2. NON HUMANA, SED DIVINA: CASSANDRA FEDELE OF VENICE ...... 39 The Letters: Catalogues of Women ...... 54

The Letters: Fedele on Philosophy ...... 78

3. LAURA NOVIOR ALTERIOR: LAURA CERETA OF BRESCIA ...... 85 Dialogue on the Funeral of a Donkey ...... 99

vii

The Letters ...... 121

4. NUOVA MUSA, NUOVA DIOTIMA: TARQUINIA MOLZA ...... 141 Francesco Patrizi's L'Amorosa Filosofia

Book I: Patrizi’s Encomium to Molza...... 142

Book II: The Varieties of Love ...... 155

Book III: The Categories of Love ...... 159

Book IV: A Sophistic Twist ...... 164

5. UN GRAN MIRACOL: CLEMENZA NINCI ...... 171 Texts and Contexts: Lo Sposalizio D’Iparchia Filosofa ...... 174

Pain and Pleasure ...... 179

Fortune and Free Will ...... 187

Men and Women ...... 198

6. CONCLUSIONS ...... 209

REFERENCES ...... 216

APPENDIX A: CLEMENZA NINCI’S LO SPOSALIZIO D’IPARCHIA FILOSOFA ...... 229

viii

LIST OF TABLES

Table 1: Cereta's Women ...... 90

Table 2: Associations of the Muses ...... 144

CHAPTER 1: INTRODUCTION

Assessments of the female humanist paint a rather bleak picture:

She received no degrees. She wrote no truly great works. She exerted no great influence on emerging trends in the history of ideas. She was probably unhappy. But she was perhaps the earliest figure of the type of the learned woman who is still with us.1

Granted, the “type of the learned woman” had in fact existed in some form since the

Classical period; her voice, however, was largely obscured, her works lost, her actions reported by male authors. The humanist period, in contrast, yields scores of learned women whose voices are more accessible to us, through their own letters, dialogues and poems; and yet even now their works are set aside in footnotes as “women’s studies,” and considered as a part of social, rather than intellectual, history. As such, it is the intent of this dissertation to consider such works in a new light, as a part of the Renaissance reception of Classical sources. The women included in this study were keenly aware of the Classical tradition of learned women, and in particular, female philosophers. Their understanding of these exempla shaped their participation in the humanist movement, as

1 Margaret L. King,“Book-Lined Cells: Women and Humanism in the Early Italian Renaissance,” in Beyond Their Sex: Learned Women of the European Past, ed. Patricia H. Labalme (New York: New York University Press, 1980), 80.

1 each woman struggled to position herself vis-à-vis the contradictory expectations she faced by virtue of living as both a woman and a scholar.2

The conflict between these two identities leaves the female humanists in a class of their own; they are not as competent as male humanists, but they are also “‘exceptions’ when compared to other women of their eras;”3 in other words they are a third category, defying both the conventions of the Renaissance (male) scholar and the female, leaving her to be evaluated in terms of both and found wanting in each case. Ross makes an excellent point regarding this trend:

No intellectual historian would apologetically introduce an edition of Pico della Mirandola’s writings, for instance, by reminding the reader that most men did not enjoy Pico’s latitude for literary contribution, because most men did not happen to be the count of Concordia or anywhere else. Rather the task would be to situate Pico’s writings in relation to the work of the other humanists. Yet women authors must, it seems, be compared to all other women...4

The most prominent manifestation of the trend Ross describes is the long tradition of the catalogue of women, in which an author purports to raise up the weaker sex by presenting her very best examples; Plutarch’s de mulierum virtutibus and Boccaccio’s 14th-century de mulieribus claris are the first that come to mind. The problem with this argument, that the catalogue raises the status of women, is that such lists are inherently based on the notion of exceptionality; the women who made the cut are better than the rest of their sex,

2 Michèle Le Doeuff describes this phenomenon most eloquently in Hipparchia’s Choice, stating, “In this way we are turned into a ‘we,’ separatists against our will.” See Michèle Doeuff, Hipparchia’s Choice, An Essay Concerning Women, Philosophy, etc, trans. Trista Selous (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007), 16.

3 Sarah Gwyneth Ross, The Birth of Feminism (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2009), 93.

4 Ibid., 93.

2 having overcome their feminine weaknesses or the social restrictions of their time to excel in whatever field. And yet catalogues of women appear again and again in

Renaissance writings intended, ostensibly, to praise women scholars. And since one of the most prominent features of the Renaissance was the revival of Classical literature and culture, these catalogues revolve for the most part around ancient exempla.

Such catalogues were popular throughout the Middle Ages and Renaissance and dealt with both ancient and contemporary women, presenting them as exempla for men and women alike. Perhaps the most famous contribution to this discipline is Boccaccio’s

De mulieribus claris, written in the 1360s and later published in the vernacular (Venice,

1506).5 In it, Boccaccio treats the lives of over one hundred women, creating what has been called an “architext”6 for later works on ancient and contemporary women. Figures from myth and history, Christian and pagan, are presented side by side, for the most part chronologically: Eve, Minerva, Medea, Medusa, Dido, the Epicurean Leontium,

Berenice, etc., all the way up to the 14th-century Queen Joanna I of Naples. Pamela

Benson has called Boccaccio’s text “profeminist,”7 and perhaps it is, in that it presents women with a variety of models for behavior and presumes an educated female readership capable of interpreting these exempla. However, the text explicitly states that these women are to be admired not for their deeds alone, but for their ability to overcome

5 See Giovanni Boccaccio and Virginia Brown, Famous Women (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2001).

6 Steven Kolsky, The Ghost of Boccaccio: Writings on Famous Women in Renaissance Italy (Belgium: Brepols, 2005), 4.

7 Pamela Benson, The Invention of the Renaissance Woman (Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1992), 9.

3 natural female weakness. Christian women are encouraged to emulate displays of modesty, spousal loyalty, and other conservative feminine traits, and to feel shame in the face of the pagan women who surpass them in virtue. Female authors of the Medieval and

Renaissance periods reworked the text in various ways. For example, by reinterpreting the exempla of Boccaccio, Christine de Pizan’s 1405 Book of the City of Ladies makes an extended argument against the theory of sex polarity and advocates for female self- knowledge and self-governance.

F. Rigolot has noted that the use and collection of such exempla in the

Renaissance was often “a matter of style,” a rhetorical tactic meant to increase interest while providing a model of conduct for the audience.8 For many humanists, however, catalogues of women provided exempla well-suited for the task of conceptualizing the learned lady by providing an acceptable context for her actions. Jardine has posited that the problem of female achievement necessitated the redefinition of the female humanist as “not-woman...an emblem of humanistic achievement which avoids confronting her sex as a problem,” arguing:

In a period which afforded no power to a woman in her own right, a woman's achievement in a sphere which supposedly stood in some active relation to power could not be allowed to stand as woman's achievement.9

For women to participate in the humanist movement, then, required some negotiation on their own part, and on the part of their families, teachers, and correspondents.

8 François Rigolot, “The Renaissance Crisis of Exemplarity,” (Journal of the History of Ideas 59: 558.)

9 Lisa Jardine, "‘O Decus Italiae Virgo’, or The Myth of the Learned Lady in the Renaissance," (The Historical Journal 28: 804.)

The education of women was not in itself necessarily problematic; rather, it was the application of that knowledge that proved dangerous. Grafton and Jardine describe this tension in their chapter, “Women Humanists: Education for What?”:

...while the bonae artes are an appropriate occupation for a noblewoman (the favorite analogy is that it keeps their fingers out of mischief, like spinning or needlework), public proficiency in advanced studies is indecorous.10

The evidence most often cited in support of this point is a letter from Leonardo Bruni to

Battista Malatesta, in which Bruni warns that women who exert themselves in public speech “appear mad and in need of restraint.”11 Due to the lack of acceptable forums for learned women to apply their skills, Grafton and Jardine argue further that the woman humanists’ education “is not viewed as training for anything;”12 unlike the male humanist, whose training could be applied in a variety of civic and religious contexts.

Female education was rather a status symbol, an end in itself:

As signs of cultivation all such accomplishments satisfactorily connoted a leisured life...and the ability to purchase the services of the best available teachers for such comparatively useless skills.13

Learned women, however, did not confine themselves to the realm of accomplishment; and when they began relationships with male humanists, gave public orations, or circulated their own works, their actions were often explained (in their own words, and in

10 Anthony Grafton and Lisa Jardine, From Humanism to the Humanities (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1986), 32.

11 vesena coercendaque videatur, cited in Grafton and Jardine, From Humanism to the Humanities, 33.

12 Ibid., 56.

13 Ibid., 57.

5 the words of others) as contributing to the tradition of the abstract “learned lady,” whether as a new Diotima, a Hortensia, or even a Lucretia.

Kolsky suggests that “the female exemplum could contain salient messages for female selfhood: it might confirm the life led by the female reader, or propose that it be released from its restrictions.”14 I will demonstrate here, however, that the exemplum can have a much broader impact, shaping not only the reader’s sense of self, but her understanding of the place that self holds in relation to other women, other scholars, and even to antiquity. Some of the women featured here were complicit in the

“mythologizing” that Jardine describes, while others reacted against it, using catalogues to combat the exceptionality that pervaded most praise of learned women. Each author’s approach to the exempla in turn shaped, and was shaped by, her engagement with

Classical learning, her incorporation of it into her own works of philosophy and rhetoric, and her sense of belonging to the philosophical schools she references.

There is an abundance of material ripe for analysis; the voices of these women have survived not only in literary and philosophical works, but also in personal letters, giving unusual insight into the intellectual and personal life of the individual. Their works of the four women I have chosen span several genres and languages, including invective, collected letters, dialogue, oratory, poetry and drama, written in Latin, Italian, and local dialects, often peppered with Ancient Greek. They demonstrate an awareness of Classical literature and of the church fathers, and a sense that these texts were not merely authorities to be quoted, but rather models to be imitated and adapted to new uses, one of

14 Kolsky, The Ghost of Boccaccio, 17. 6 the ways in which the male humanists are often said to have surpassed their medieval predecessors. Though their lives were often short and marked by tragedy, disappointment, and sacrifice, as King notes, the female humanists, like their male peers, were highly literate; they had command of several languages and genres, both secular and sacred; they participated in public intellectual exchanges with both men and women, whether through oratory or in published writings; and finally, perhaps most importantly, they argued eloquently for their right to do so.

Renaissance Woman: Theory and Practice

The works of these authors circulated relatively widely through their correspondence with friends, family and scholars, and they often received the attention of prominent humanists of the day. Contemporary critical responses to their work varied, but most are indicative of a climate ill-disposed to receive works written by women.

Praise is often couched in terms of exceptionality; Angelo Poliziano, for instance, responds to a letter from Cassandra Fedele with surprise that such a letter could have come from a woman, stating:

unicam te tamen existere puellam, quae pro lana librum, pro fuco calamum, stylum pro acu tractes, et quae non cutem cerussa, sed atramento papyrum linas. 15

You are the only girl in existence to handle a book instead of wool, a reed pen instead of rouge, a stylus instead of a hairpin, and who spreads ink on a page instead of white lead on her skin.

15 Cassandra Fedele and Giacomo Filippo Tomasini, ed, Clarissimae Feminae Cassandrae Fidelis Venetae Epistolae & Orationes Posthumae Nunquam Antehac Editae (Patauii: Sardi, 1636), 156. I reference page numbers as printed in the upper corners of the manuscript for consistency.

He goes on to compare the phenomenon of a talented female author to a flower blooming in the snow, an image which, despite Poliziano’s intent, actually communicates rather well the bleak environment in which the female humanists were able to blossom. Other critics of female humanists do not even allow for exceptionality among women, arguing that their work must be counterfeit: Cereta, for example, was accused of presenting her father’s work as her own.

These issues are rooted in a long tradition of literature on the querelle des femmes,

“the woman question.” European women themselves had been participating in the discussion for generations, in disciplines spanning medicine, literature, philosophy, and beyond, considering whether the sexes were polar opposites, complements, or simply human beings. Kelly traces the discussion of the question among female scholars through four centuries,16 citing Christine de Pizan of France as the original feminist thinker. Christine de Pizan contributed a huge body of literature to the subject, engaging with a wide variety of sources including Aristotle’s Metaphysics, Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy, Augustine’s City of God and the works of Thomas Aquinas.

There is an abundance of evidence on the Humanists’ attitudes on the education of women, their role in society, and their place in history. As W.H. Woodward concludes,

“the distinction seems to be, not so much in a difference of educational subject-matter, as in the altered stress which is laid upon certain elements in it.”17 Women were encouraged to study the Church Fathers, but also Cicero and Seneca, and master Latin composition;

16 Joan Kelly, Women, History and Theory (Chicago: University Press, 1984).

17 W.H. Woodward, Vittorino da Feltre and Other Humanist Educators (New York: Bureau of Publications Teachers College, Columbia University, 1897. second printing, 1970), 247.

History was also acceptable, though mathematics and astrology are less so.18 Ancient

Greek is rarely mentioned as part of the curriculum, though one of the women featured here (Tarquinia Molza) produced her own translations of several Platonic works, while the other three women are clearly familiar with Greek myth and history, perhaps through

Latin translations; Fedele, for example, uses Latin to quote and paraphrase Plato, and

Cereta thanks one of her correspondents for writing her a letter in two languages, presumably Latin and Greek. Other subjects were considered less suitable. Leonardo

Bruni’s letter to Battista Malatesta includes a warning against studying geometry, arithmetic and astronomy too avidly, and places rhetoric in the same masculine realm as war.19

There could also be concern over women taking too much pride in their studies.

Coluccio Salutati, for instance, advises the nun Caterina di messer Vieri regarding her decision to forsake the vows she had taken at age 11 and enter into a secular marriage.

Salutati is quite critical of Caterina for wishing to return to the secular world, and in particular to study secular authors:

You may be a bit superior to other women in having some notion of letters; you may have seen Seneca and other, lowly authors and cite them. But do not flatter yourself that you are adorned with eloquence or that you possess secular learning…Believe me, you are indeed far from both. You can boast of this among simple women and those not educated in these studies.20

18 See Woodward, Vittorino da Feltre, 248-249 for a full discussion.

19 See Grafton and Jardine, From Humanism to the Humanities, 32 n.9.

20 Coluccio Salutati, Letter to Caterina di messer Vieri, in The Earthly Republic: Italian Humanists on Government and Society (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1978), 116.

Salutati then reproaches Caterina for daring to complain to him: “You are not speaking to simple women who follow what you say with sighs, tears, acquiescence.”21 Salutati is quite dismissive of communication between women and the possibility of female education, encouraging Caterina to return to Christ, her bridegroom, using the language of love poetry.

A letter from Francesco Barbero to a newly married friend also expresses troubling expectations for women. He advocates the silence of women (ironically) using

Theano as an example, who wittily defended herself from the advances of a young man who was quite taken with her shapely arm. The story is drawn from Plutarch, as is

Barbaro’s comparison of the public speech of noble women to the exposure of their naked limbs.22 Some have lauded Barbaro’s work for expressing the importance of the mother to the education of her children; but his advice only extends to moral education and the conventions of proper speech. A mother’s duty is to teach children to avoid too much laughter, overly passionate language, obscenities, etc., with no reference to reading or writing.

The debate over the status of women and the querelle des femmes in the

Renaissance has continued in scholarship of the twentieth century; it has in fact been argued that there was no Renaissance for women. This claim, made most memorably by

Joan Kelly,23 stems from the application of feminist-Marxist theories regarding the rise of

21 Ibid., 116.

22 Plutarch, Coniugalia Praecepta 31 and Moralia 142D

23 Joan Kelly, “Did Women Have a Renaissance?” In Becoming Visible: Women in European History, edited by R. Bridenthal and C. Koonz, 137-164 (Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1977). 10 capitalism and the subsequent gendered division of (male) public and (female) private space, a debate that also engages with Locke’s critique of the patriarchy in his Two

Treatises of Government.24 Capitalism forces men into the public sphere of wage-earning, separating the home from the workplace. This division turns privacy into a commodity, and the wage earner uses his salary to purchase an escape from the public sphere.25 The financial ability to separate private from public then takes on an air of prestige, encouraging further separation of the two. The wife’s sequestration thus becomes a symbol of the home’s moral sanctity and seclusion and the husband’s status as a wage earner; his financial success makes it unnecessary for her to enter the workforce and expose herself to the public eye. Ultimately, this division creates separate standards for male and female behavior:

A “good” woman makes a “bad” citizen by definition. The woman who is a “good” citizen cannot, in the private sphere, be a “good” woman. She is judged in each instance by standards of so-called private morality.26

Second wave feminists recognized that patriarchal societies depend on this division of public and private;27 therefore the recognition that the private and public spheres are in

24 The public and private dichotomy is also based on Locke’s Two Treatises of Government. Mary B. Walsh summarizes the dominant feminist discourse regarding the text in her article, “Locke and Feminism on Private and Public Realms of Activities,” The Review of Politics 57 (1995): 251: “Patriarchy not only demands that older rule younger but also that male rule female. Locke's own argument against patriarchy addresses only the former (older rule of younger) while failing to challenge, and even buttressing, the latter (male rule of female). Locke manages to do this by distinguishing between a public sphere (politics) where men are regarded as adults and a private sphere (in particular, the family), where men rule as ‘the abler and the stronger’ (II. 82).”

25 Roberta Hamilton, The Liberation of Women: A Study of Patriarchy and Capitalism (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1978), 23-49.

26 Jean Bethke Elshtain, Public Man, Private Woman: Women in Social and Political Thought (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), 94. Elshtain is in particular describing the role of women in Machiavelli’s The Prince.

11 fact inextricably linked (“the personal is political”) is often cited as a key moment in the history of women’s liberation.

Joan Kelly and others have applied this theoretical framework to the transition from the feudal economy of the Middle Ages to the bourgeois-based capitalism of the

Renaissance. According to this model, the feudal economy and its “total confusion of public and private power”28 would have allowed women to participate in a wider range of activities. Men and women cooperated in the management of the household economy; the self-sufficient feudal estate, sacred or secular, was the center for agriculture, warfare, and business transactions, as well as childcare, cooking, and education. Wives, daughters and abbesses could be involved in all of these activities, the home being a space for both.

Kelly argues that this changed in the Italian Renaissance, in particular for the bourgeoisie. The consolidation of Italy into city-states and the expansion of mercantile industries took business outside of the home, leading to the separation of the public, political male sphere from the domain of the private, domestic and female.29 Thus, the

Renaissance was bad for women both economically and socially.

Kelly’s argument is largely based on literary sources. It is therefore important to recognize that these texts are very often prescriptive, rather than or in addition to being

27 Carole Pateman, “Feminist Critiques of the Public/Private Dichotomy,” in Public and Private Social Life, ed. S.I. Benn and G.F. Gauss (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1983), 295.

28 JoAnn McNamara and Suzanne F. Wemple, “Sanctity and Power: The Dual Pursuit of Medieval Women,” in Becoming Visible: Women in European History, ed. R. Bridenthal and C. Koonz (Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1977), 109.

29 The standard source for this argument is: Joan Kelly, “Did Women Have a Renaissance?” in Becoming Visible: Women in European History, ed. R. Bridenthal and C. Koonz (Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1977), 137-164.

12 descriptive. Prescriptive texts describe the ideal life of a woman from the viewpoint of a member of the dominant group, rather than the actual circumstances of women’s lives.

As such, they provide evidence for ideological impediments to women’s advancements, not definitive proof of a failure to advance. Ruth Kelso collects and analyzes such texts in her landmark 1956 volume Doctrine for the Lady of the Renaissance. She finds that women’s training in the Renaissance centered on the virtues she would need as a wife— chastity, humility, obedience, cookery, needlework, etc. As for education, the focus tended to be on religion and morality, though this left room for ancient philosophers such as Epicurus, Plato, Aristotle and Seneca, as Leonardo Bruni advises in his letter to

Battista Malatesta.30 Kelso ultimately concludes that “almost all writers on women saw them as wives and could not view them in other roles.”31 It is clear from records of

Renaissance women’s lives, however, that this failure to view women in other roles is not due to a lack of examples. Women of all classes in fact participated in a range of political, intellectual and economic activity, defying in some ways the doctrine described by Kelso.

Judith Brown, for instance, has qualified Kelly’s argument in a thorough study of women’s economic positions in Renaissance Tuscany,32 relying on the records of guilds, wills, bequests, and other legal and fiscal documents to expose women’s roles in the

30 For a full treatment of the ideal Renaissance lady and her training, see Ruth Kelso, Doctrine for the Lady of the Renaissance (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1956).

31 Kelso, Doctrine for the Lady, 273.

32 Judith C. Brown, “A Woman’s Place was in the Home: Women’s Work in Renaissance Tuscany,” in Rewriting the Renaissance: The Discourses of Sexual Difference in Early Modern Europe, ed. Margaret W. Ferguson et al. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1986), 206-224.

13 economy. Rather than revealing a strictly upward or downward trend, these sources suggest that the economic role of women fluctuated with various factors such as the influence of guilds, the presence of foreign male workers, and the demand for the luxury goods. Importantly, her work also sheds light on the condition of the often overlooked rural woman, whose economic status depended too on trends in farming and agriculture.

Women (on average, physically speaking) would have been well-suited to raising silkworms and mulberry trees, or for other tasks requiring smaller hands and fine movements, but were less efficient at heavy work in the fields, such as plowing, which is accomplished more quickly by a group of large men with great upper body strength.

Women were also active as doctors, apothecaries and midwives, despite legislation limiting their involvement, and the widows of shopkeepers and tradesmen argued for and often won the right to take ownership of the business.33 Thus, depending on the demand for various products, the circumstances of the family and the needs of customers, women might be more or less involved in daily production and management. All of these tasks, urban and rural, would have contributed to the economic success of the household or business, and some tasks would have taken women outside the house.

Women of the urban ruling classes and the bourgeoisie were also engaged in a variety of activities, and they tend to be more visible to historians than rural women. For instance, Caterina Sforza (born 1462), the illegitimate daughter of Galeazzo Maria Sforza of Milan, rode into Forli to deal with a coup the day before giving birth, her husband

33 Merry E. Weisner. 1986. “Women’s Defense of their Public Role,” in Women in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance: Literary and Historical Perspectives, ed. Mary Beth Rose (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1986), 8.

14 being too ill to participate. Later, with her husband assassinated and six children held hostage by the enemy, she conquered again at Forli and ruled as regent, in effect acting as sole ruler of the city in place of her young son.34 Bologna produced several female artists, including Properzia de’ Rossi (490-1530), a talented sculptor and engraver. Sofonisba

Anguissola (1540-1625) of Cremona corresponded with Michelangelo about her own work; Lavinia Fontana (1552-1614) took commissions as a painter in Rome.35

Other women in prominent Italian families (the Medici, the Este, etc.) were active as patronesses of the arts. As Marchioness of Mantua, Isabella d’Este (1474-1539) amassed a huge collection of antiquities, employing an agent to collect works from

Delphi, Kos and Naxos. She even attempted to acquire the entire Mausoleum of

Halicarnassus—unfortunately her agent was only able to send her two heads!36 There were also successful female writers, such as Vittoria Colonna (1490-1547). Upon the death of her husband in 1525, she attempted to join a convent, but was refused entry-- perhaps fortunately, as she came instead to be one of the most popular poets in Italy and a close friend of Michelangelo.

The problem with using these women as examples of the status of Renaissance women is that many of their stories are drawn from catalogues of exceptional women; in other words, they are singled out for being different from the average Renaissance

34 Kelly, Did Women Have a Renaissance?, 149

35 For these three artists see David Wilkins, “Woman as Artist and Patron in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance,” in The Roles and Images of Women in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, ed. Douglas Radcliff-Umstead (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Publications, 1975), 107-131.

36 See Wilkins, Woman as Artist, 118, for Isabella’s other activities.

15 woman. In general, the most highly educated women of the Italian Renaissance tended to come “from a limited set of environments specifically favorable to their education and advancement.”37 Robin notes that most female humanists belonged to the four leading families of Italy: the Gonzaga, the Este, the Sforza, and the Neapolitan ruling family.38

They were educated by their families and in convents, often singled out by chance from their younger sisters and then sheltered by fathers and tutors from the prospect of marriage as long as possible; if she were to take a husband, she would likely have to abandon her studies. This could occur as early as age twelve. Her husband would have been older, as men were generally thought to reach maturity at a slower rate than girls.

Due to the young age of the bride, in some cases it seems marriages were consummated before the bride reached menarche, though there are also records of marriages being dissolved due to failure to consummate with a prepubescent bride.39 The other option was to enter a convent, and sacrifice a secular life in favor of solitude, study and religious reflection.

Married women did not have access to their dowry while their husbands were alive. They regained control only if they were widowed, after which they could dispose

37 King, Book Lined Cells, 67.

38 Diana Robin, “Cassandra Fedele’s Epistolae (1488-1521): Biography as Ef-facement,” in The Rhetorics of Life-Writing in Early Modern Europe: Forms of Biography from Cassandra Fedele to Louis XIV, ed. Thomas F. Mayer and D.R. Woolf (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1995), 189.

39 Silvana Seidel Menchi, “The Girl and the Hourglass: Periodization of Women’s Lives in Western Preindustrial Societies,” in Time, Space and Women’s Lives, ed. A.J. Schutte et al. (Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2001), 66. Menchi notes that “social puberty” was often achieved before “physiological puberty.”

16 of them as they wished in their wills.40 Educated women had the advantage here; they could write their own wills without a notary, allowing them to maintain independence and secrecy through the process. They were also prepared to act as executors or direct beneficiaries in their husband’s wills. A study conducted by Chojnacki finds that 88% of fifteenth-century patrician husbands named their wives as executors.41 Based on these factors, Ambrosini has argued that education was in fact the most valuable dowry that a father could provide, perhaps even more valuable than material wealth.42

On the basis of these outstanding figures, some have argued that the Renaissance was extremely beneficial to women, and in fact dependent on women and femininity for inspiration and development. Burkhardt claimed in the late 19th century that “women stood on an equal footing of perfect equality with men.”43 Women were muses and patronesses, glorified in paintings and poetry, used as symbols for Justice, Truth,

Philosophy, the city, or even Italy herself. The printing press gave wider access to reading material, improving literacy, and women were able to develop individual voices in poetry and prose. Renaissance woman rose like the Venus of Botticelli, “naked and innocent, ready to awake to a world that so far had bypassed her.”44

40 Chojnacki, Women and Men in Renaissance Venice, 128.

41 Ibid., 159. Chojnacki studied the wills of 49 husbands, and found that 43 named their wives as executors. He foun that this almost never occurred in the Trecento.

42 Federica Ambrosini, “Toward a Social History of Women in Venice,” in Venice Reconsidered, ed. Martin and Romano (Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000), 422.

43 Jacob Burckhardt and S.G.C. Middlemore, trans, The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy (New York: Penguin Books, 1990), 250.

44 Gaia Servadio, Renaissance Woman (New York: IB Taurus, 2005), 2.

This argument, however, is markedly more problematic than Kelly’s. Even proponents of the theory acknowledge that Renaissance women were cast into types: the virago (perhaps a positive term in this context), the courtesan, the wife.45 Furthermore, the use of the female body in art does not constitute female participation in a movement.

It is an act of appropriation, not inclusion, and in fact is the closest thing to literal objectification of the female body as one may find. Patricia Simons analyzed the

Renaissance male gaze in her work on portraiture, “Women in Frames,” determining that the profile pose allowed the viewer to scrutinize the young female subject, while removing the subject’s gaze from play.46 Finally, this argument is also based in old- fashioned notions of the Middle Ages as “Dark,” especially for women, a notion that has come into question in the last 50 years of scholarship. Hildegard of Bingen, the author of the Trotula, Heloise, and others are proof that the women of the medieval period were not entirely forced into silence, dragged down into menial labor and childbirth or placed on the pedestal of courtly love.

In short, the effect of the Renaissance on women is far too complicated to be defined as negative or positive, progress or decline. A woman’s overall quality of life would have depended heavily on the specifics of locality, class, individual opportunity and other economic and social factors. The widows of elite men might find themselves with more freedom of movement, access to resources, and agency in their lives; as wives

45 Ibid., 8.

46 Patricia Simons, “Women in Frames: The Gaze, the Eye, the Profile in Renaissance Portraiture," History Workshop: A Journal of Socialist and Feminist Historians 25: 4-30. See also A.W.B. Randolph, “Renaissance Genderscapes,” in Structures and Subjectivities: Attending to Early Modern Women, ed. J.E. Hartman and A. Seeff (Newark: Delaware University Press, 2007), 21-49. 18 they might turn family fortunes towards a favorite pursuit, act as advisor or confidant to a powerful husband, or rise to the occasion during a disaster, earning praise for her manly actions; daughters might be active in the family business or in managing an ailing father’s affairs. These factors played out differently for each of the women covered here:

Cassandra Fedele of Venice (1465-1558); Laura Cereta of Brescia (1469-1499);

Tarquinia Molza, “L’Unica,” from Modena (1542-1617); and Clemenza Ninci, a nun in

Prato active in the mid-to-late seventeenth century.

Cassandra Fedele

Cassandra Fedele studied Latin and Greek with her father until the age of twelve.

It is not clear why she was singled out from her sisters at this point, none of whom are mentioned as particularly learned. Presumably she revealed more talent than her siblings; whatever the reason, between the ages of twelve to sixteen was supervised by the Servite monk Gasparino Borro,47 and continued her studies independently throughout her twenties—Cavazzana reports in particular that her classical studies peaked between the ages of twelve and twenty-two, during and after her studies with Borro.48 She also studied science and philosophy; she mentions in an undated letter to the poet Filomuso of

Pesaro49 that she stays up all night studying the works of the Peripatetics only to find that their meaning is still obscure to her.

47 Fedele mentions her teacher briefly in a letter to Bonifacio Bembo (Fedele, Cassandra, and Giacomo Filippo Tomasini, ed, Clarissimae Feminae Cassandrae Fidelis Venetae Epistolae & Orationes Posthumae Nunquam Antehac Editae (Padua: Franciscus Bolzetta, 1636), 127).

48 Cavazzana, Cassandra Fedele, 16.

49 Fedele, Epistolae, 9-10 (letter 7). 19

After completing her early education Fedele became associated with a group of scholars at the University of Padua, though no formal degree or faculty position was permitted to women. During that time she also gave two public orations: one in honor of her cousin’s graduation, the other on the invitation of Giorgio Valla. As discussed in the introduction to these chapters, oration was a field often closed to women, yet she excelled in it. Through these public appearances, Fedele swiftly gained renown throughout the humanist circles of Europe. She was a prolific letter writer, corresponding with Angelo

Poliziano, Pico della Mirandola, the Queen of Hungary and other prominent figures in humanism and politics, and was honored at times by visits and invitations from them.

Poliziano visited the Fedeli in Venice in 1491 and encouraged his patron, Lorenzo de’

Medici, to receive Fedele at his home in Florence.50 Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand invited Fedele to join their court in Spain, but her travel plans were upset by Italy’s war with Charles VIII of France.51

Fedele’s rise to fame is an extreme example of the Renaissance tradition of educated women. As Ross argues, learned women functioned as “perpetuations of their father’s and family’s intellectual honor.”52 To devote resources to the education of women implied that one was wealthy and connected enough to do so, and for these women to show competency in fields dominated by men was a tribute to their teachers—

50 Grafton and Jardine, From Humanism to the Humanities, 47 n. 52 and 55. Grafton and Jardine date the visit on the basis of a letter sent the next day from Poliziano to Lorenzo, found in I. Del Lungo, Prose volgari inedite e poesie latine e greche edite e inedite di Angelo Ambrogini Poliziano (Florence, 1867), 81.

51 King and Rabil, Her Immaculate Hand, 22.

52 Ross, The Birth of Feminism, 52.

20 and especially their fathers. As Ross remarks, “having a learned daughter—a Hortensia or a Tullia— made the father, by extension, Hortensius or Cicero.”53 The possibility for this kind of prestige in fact motivated many humanist fathers to lead “household academies,” as Ross describes in her study of Pietro Bembo and Sir Thomas More, who ensured that their sons and daughters received instruction in Latin, Greek, rhetoric, and other fields.54

It was often difficult for a woman to continue her education beyond this point.

Fedele’s scholarly activities largely ceased when she married the physician Gian Maria

Mappelli in 1497. There are no letters to or from her husband, and little to indicate what kind of man he was, but it is clear that marriage marked a transition for Fedele. There is a seventeen-year gap in Fedele’s correspondence, from 1497, the year of her marriage, to

1514, when she wrote to Girolamo Campagnola regarding a theological question. In his reply, Campagnola mentions a vague illness that keeps Fedele from her work, with no mention of her marriage as a potential cause.55

Rabil and King suggest that Fedele’s symptoms may have been psychosomatic, the result “of being forced to accept a conventional social role with which she was not entirely happy.”56 This explanation recalls Betty Freidan’s “Problem that has no name,” described in The Feminine Mystique; but Fedele was writing under the influence of fifteenth-century texts and ideas about women and illness. According to Aristotelian

53 Ibid., 52.

54 Ibid., 53-94.

55 For an edition of this letter see Cesira Cavazzana, Cassandra Fedele, 72. Cavazzana’s edition is based on Cod. Marc. Lat. Cl. XIV, n. 245, pp. 15r- 16r. See also King and Rabil’s introduction to their translation of the letter, King and Rabil, Her Immaculate Hand, 128-129.

56 King and Rabil, Her Immaculate Hand, 22.

21 theory, the female body is inherently cold and wet, and so more likely to feel depressed or passive.57 Furthermore, Ficino’s Three Books of Life (1482) argues that intellectual activity dries out the brain, leading to a drop in temperature, poor digestion, and sluggish circulation.58 This theory came to influence the academic’s view of his or her own symptoms:

[Ficino] advanced the idea that brilliance frequently accompanied melancholic states, thereby transforming an affliction into a positive virtue for men of letters and visual artists. To be melancholic operated as a sign of men’s exceptionality and ‘the inscription of genius within them.”59

The author of this statement argues that women (in this case, more specifically religious women) were denied membership in the club of “melancholic geniuses,”60 but this exclusion is most likely effected by male authors and doctors; there is no reason why a female author could not affect the symptoms of such an ailment herself. Many female humanists, including Fedele and Laura Cereta, described vague illnesses resembling melancholy, perhaps under the influence of Ficinian and Aristotelian theories.

Fedele continued to struggle after her husband’s death in 1520, having lost many of their possessions in a shipwreck on a voyage between Crete and Italy during the same

57 For more on the role of these theories in Medieval and Renaissance thought, see the introduction to “The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe” series by the University of Chicago, included in Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, viii-ix, under the heading, “Greek Philosophy and Female Nature.”

58 For a brief discussion of Ficino’s work, see Jennifer Radden, ed., The Nature of Melancholy from Aristotle to Kristeva (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 87-94.

59 Sharon T. Strocchia, "The Melancholic Nun in Late Renaissance Italy," in Diseases of the Imagination and Imaginary Disease in the Early Modern Period, ed.Yasmin Annabel Haskell (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), 143.

60 Ibid., 143.

22 year. She most likely lived with her sister’s family after being widowed,61 though she tried repeatedly to secure positions in Venice that would allow her to live independently.

In 1547 she succeeded in convincing Pope Paul III to grant her a position as the prioress of a Venetian orphanage at San Domenico di Castello. In 1556 Fedele gave her last public oration before the Venetian doge in honor of the Queen of Poland, Bona Sforza.

She died in 1558 at the age of ninety-three and was buried with great honor in Venice.

Little else is known about Fedele. There are no records of her marriage, or even her birth.62 Robin remarks on the paucity of archival sources, citing only a last will and testament, an account of her funeral, and a few parish records. Cavazzana is an excellent source for these;63 she includes among other documents in her “Appendice” the will of

Fedele’s husband, in which she is named as chief benefactor, and Fedele’s own will, which bequeaths most of her possessions to the family of Benedetto Baldigara, her lawyer, who was possibly also a distant relation.64

Fedele’s work spans several genres, though not all of her writing survives. Her only work on natural science, Ordo Scientiarum, is lost, along with her Latin poetry. The oratio for her cousin, Bertucio Lamberto, along with four of her letters, was published in

61 Diana Robin, “Cassandra Fedele’s Epistolae (1488-1521): Biography as Ef-facement,” in The Rhetorics of Life-Writing in Early Modern Europe: Forms of Biography from Cassandra Fedele to Louis XIV, ed. Thomas F. Mayer and D.R. Woolf (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1995), 189.

62 Ibid., 187-89.

63 Cavazzana, Cassandra Fedele, “Appendice,” (59-83). See also Ross, The Birth of Feminism, 47.

64 Fedele uses the word nepote to describe him, which, as Ross notes, could mean “descendant,” or designate “relationships that were genetically attenuated but emotionally important— similar to the term ‘cousin’ in early modern English” (Ross, The Birth of Feminism, 48).

Modena, Venice and Nuremberg in the late 1480s,65 and several vitae of Fedele appeared in histories, lists of illustrious Venetians, and catalogues of famous women throughout the last quarter of her life.66 Tomasini, who also published the letters of Laura Cereta, printed a selection of Fedele’s letters and orations in 1636 introduced by his own vita.67

This edition is the main source for the works of Fedele, and the only source for her letterbook. Cavazzana has compiled several other letters included in the manuscripts of other humanist letterbooks held by the Biblioteca Marciana and the state archives of

Venice.

Laura Cereta

Humanism was rather slower to take hold in the Northern Italian city of Brescia, the birthplace of Laura Cereta. The authoritative work on the history of the region, G.

Treccani degli Alfieri’s Storia di Brescia, notes that “the old scholastic tradition did not give way easily” to the new ideas of the humanist movement, citing continuous publication of the unfashionable Alexander of Villedieu’s Doctrinale up through the 16th

65 See Robin, Cassandra Fedele (1465-1558), 62 n.2., and Robin, Biography as Ef-Facement, 200 n.6. The manuscript is listed as Oratio per Bertuccio Lamberto (Nuremberg: Peter Wagner, 1487) in John M. McManamon, S.J., “An Incipitarium of Funeral Orations and a Smattering of Other Panegyrical Literature from the Italian Renaissance (ca. 1350-1550),” last modified February 2014, http://www.luc.edu/media/lucedu/history/pdfs/Incipit_Catalogue.pdf. McManamon identifies two other copies: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm 461, fols. 206-12v (impr. Venice, 1488), and Zwickau, Ratsschulbibliothek, cod. LXVI. The incipit for the speech is Si forti animo incipienti timere.

66 See Robin, Cassandra Fedele (1465-1558), 61 n.1.

67 Robin, Biography as Ef-facement, 188, reports that Tomasini’s sources were: loose leaves supplied by the Paduan Evangelista Zagalia and the Venetian Battista Fichetti, and a bound codex from Alessandro d’Este. Robin notes that, while these sources are no longer extant, Tomasini’s verifiably accurate compilation of Cereta’s letters from several sources suggests his edition of Fedele’s work is also reliable.

24 century.68 Cereta’s work, however, demonstrates that the humanist movement was alive and well in Brescia during her lifetime. An enthusiastic student of Latin, Greek, philosophy, mathematics, astrology, religion, and other topics, Cereta was “both a pious

Christian and a humanist,”69 often referencing the church fathers alongside Classical authors. In her longest work, the Dialogue on the Funeral of a Donkey, she mines

Apuleius for unusual vocabulary, draws heavily on the natural science of Pliny the Elder, and adapts Stoic techniques of consolation to a new setting, while relying on Augustine for knowledge of the ancient philosophical schools. As Robin suggests, her Latin is more indebted to Seneca and other Silver Age authors than to Cicero,70 though at times she is seen to use Ciceronian techniques. Cereta was also fluent in the authors and genres of the humanist movement, showing awareness of the works of Petrarch, Salutati, Valla and

Christine de Pizan. Cereta’s letters, personally selected and edited in 1488 (though not formally published until the 17th century), circulated among the humanists of Brescia,

Chiari, Verona and Pavia during her lifetime;71 she also began a correspondence with

Cassandra Fedele of Venice, though it was never reciprocated. The genres in which she writes (dialogue, funeral oration, etc.) demonstrate further her participation in the humanist movement.

68 Giovanni Alfieri, Storia Di Brescia, Vol. 2 (Brescia: Morcelliana, 1963), 544.

69 Albert Rabil, Laura Cereta,: Quatrocento Humanist (Binghamton, NY: Center for Medieval and Early Renaissance Studies, 1981), 7.

70 See Diana Robin,“Laura Cereta (1469-1499),” in Women Writing Latin, vol. 3, ed. L.J. Churchill et al. (New York: Routledge, 2002), 85.

71 Ibid., 83.

The collected letters, written in a candid yet elaborate style, make it possible to give a relatively detailed account of Cereta’s life and education.72 In her correspondence with friend Suora Nazaria Olympica, Cereta provides a humorous account of her childhood: bouts with intestinal worms, a possible case of impetigo, and the terrifying presence of a jaundiced nurse with a goiter. In the same letter, Cereta credits an unnamed female instructor for much of her education, though she also spent two years in a convent—time that was seemingly more concerned with embroidery and other handiwork than the liberal arts. Upon her return home, however, perhaps under the same unnamed praeceptrix, Cereta studied Latin enthusiastically, referring fondly to Cicero and the works of Seneca. She may also have studied Ancient Greek; her letters indicate that she received correspondence written in Greek as well as Latin,73 though no Greek writing of her own survives.

At the same time, Cereta was devoted to her duties as the eldest of six children in a noble family, continuing to study and attend lectures on mathematics and other topics even as she assumed responsibility for nearly all household chores. She fulfilled the ultimate duty at the age of fifteen when she married and left the household. Her husband,

Venetian merchant Pietro Serina, is the recipient of several letters written in Latin. He too was presumably learned, though perhaps not to the same degree as his wife. Cereta was widowed less than two years after her marriage to Serina. Though she was often

72 Robin, Biography as Ef-facement, 189, notes that Cereta’s letters, by virtue of their personal nature, defy the usual conventions of the humanist letterbook. She writes to friends and relatives rather than patrons, including successes and failures, details of home life and personal dilemmas. Compare Fedele’s collection, which contains no letters to close family members and few personal details.

73 Letter to Benadict Argasus, Papiensi, 1485, found only in the manuscripts at the Vatican and in Venice. Rabil publishes a transcription and summary (Rabil, Laura Cereta,, 135, III). 26 conflicted in her grief, and considered withdrawing to a solitary life of religious reflection, she did continue her studies. Rabil dates her Dialogue on the Funeral of a

Donkey to 1485 on the basis of letters in which Cereta complains of jealous critics, probably responding to her dialogue–some of whom claim that Cereta’s letters and other works were authored by her father. Critics often fixated on the female humanists’ gender, sex and sexuality, making it necessary for female authors to defend their sex from generic attacks, argue for their right to education, and identify the attitudes undermining their scholarly efforts.

Humanists were often criticized for engaging in secular or even pagan pursuits—

Pomponio Leto being the most obvious example— but criticism of female humanists took on a particular edge. Knowledge and public performance, or even correspondence, by virtue of contact with men outside the family, threatened a woman’s perceived chastity, and as such criticisms often stooped to absurd charges of sexual misconduct. In a particularly heinous example, Isotta Nogarola was accused of incest with her brother.

Notably, male humanists occasionally experienced similar charges: Leto was imprisoned for sodomy in 1466 and later charged with conspiring against the Pope. As today, then, charges involving “deviant” sexuality were an effective tool for silencing the voices of both men and women.

Beyond the extant written works, Cereta’s other scholarly activities are more difficult to establish. She may have lectured on philosophical theses at the age of 18 and taught publicly in Brescia between the ages of 20-27.74 Rabil suggests that she may have

74 Rossi, Ottavio. Elogi Istorici de’ Bresciani illlustri. (Brescia: Bartolomeo Fontana, 1620). 27 tried her hand at poetry before her efforts were cut short by her death at the age of thirty.75 In any case, her work, though not recognized fully during her lifetime, places her on par with other humanists of the era. Proficient in the popular humanist genres of invective, letter-writing, oratory, biography, and dialogue, she filled her works with allusions to Classical authors.

Giacomo Filippo Tomasini of Padua published the contents of a now-lost manuscript containing the letters and the dialogue in 1640. This edition includes a vita by

Tomasini himself and Cereta’s letters, though not the funeral dialogue. Two other manuscripts exist; Rabil argues that all of these copies were made from an unknown archetype. One is currently held in Venice,76 written in a humanist hand and missing several pages— the index states that the dialogue of donkey begins on page 7, but the first folio is numbered 11. The manuscript is carefully executed, with wide margins and decorated capital letters at the beginning of each letter. The most complete manuscript resides in the Vatican.77 It is written in cursive, and includes all of the material in

Tomasini in addition to the Dialogue on the Funeral of a Donkey and seven more letters not included, with four letters and one poem written by Brother Thomas. However, Rabil notes that the Vatican manuscript contains more mistakes and is less carefully executed than the Venetian codex.78

75 Rabil, Laura Cereta, 22.

76 Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana. Marc. Cod. Lat., XI.28 [4186] mbr. XV, 154 fols.

77 Vat. Lat. 3176, 73 fols.

78At this time I have only consulted the Tomasini edition. 28

Tarquinia Molza

Tarquinia Molza was born in Modena in 1542. Little is known of her mother

Isabella; her father Camillo Columbi was the son of respected humanist Francesco Maria

Molza. Tarquinia was educated alongside her brothers by one Don Giovanni Politiano, who instructed her in Greek, Latin, Hebrew and philosophy; as noted by Riley, her younger sisters did not receive the same instruction.79 After the deaths of Politiano and

Camillo in approximately 1558, Molza gave up her studies temporarily. Jaffe attributes the break in her studies to Isabella, her mother, who had perhaps encouraged her from the beginning to study more “feminine” arts.80

Despite the possible objections of Molza’s mother, it would appear that the atmosphere was improving for female writers and scholars in the later sixteenth century.

As Cox argues:

…by premodern standards, sixteenth-century Italy may still be described as a remarkably favorable environment for women’s intellectual activity, comparable in many respects to the better-known example of seventeenth-century France. As in seventeenth-century France, an affirmative attitude to women was a touchstone of civility, and gallantry was a defining element in male elite identity. Praise of exceptional women was an established discourse of the period, and praise of women writers an established subdiscourse.81

While excessive praise often functioned as a way to exclude women from intellectual discourse, it would appear that some of the interest in female scholars produced real

79 Joanne Marie Riley,“The Influence of Women on Secular Vocal Music in Sixteenth Century Italy: The Life and Career of Tarquinia Molza (1542-1617)” (PhD Diss, Wesleyan University, 1980), 7.

80 Irma B. Jaffe and Gernando Colombardo, Shining Eyes, Cruel Fortune: The Lives and Loves of Italian Renaissance Women Poets (New York: Fordham University Press, 2002), 311. 81 Virginia Cox, Lyric Poetry by Women of the Italian Renaissance (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2013), 4.

29 results in the latter half of the sixteenth century. Cox cites several examples of women who were admitted to academies, including Laura Battiferri (1523-1589), associated with the Intronati of Siena, and Isabella Andreini (1562-1604), a touring actress and member of the Accademia degli Intenti in Pavia.82 Her volume Lyric Poetry of by Women of the

Italian Renaissance cites women who toured as actors, painters, and singers, suggesting a greater deal of mobility for women by this period. As was the case in the fifteenth century, most of these women belonged to the upper echelons of society, and the “profeminist theoretical discourses on sex and gender emerging as an alternative to the

Aristotelian model”83 were largely a product of the courts. However, Cox notes that by the late sixteenth century one could find many female lyricists among the cittadini, as well as the cortigiane oneste, a class of courtesans similar to Greek hetaerae that emerged (ironically) at the papal court of the late fifteenth century.84

It was in this environment that Molza eventually resumed her studies. She did not marry until the age of eighteen, allowing her younger sisters to marry first. As Jaffe notes, this is unusual given that the first sister to be married would usually receive the largest dowry.85 Riley speculates that Molza delayed marriage with the support of her father, but was pressured after his death by her mother and brothers (who would have to

82 Ibid., 4; see also individual entries in appendix, Notes on Authors, p. 391.

83 Ibid., 11-12.

84 Ibid., 13.

85 Jaffe, Shining Eyes, 311.

30 share their inheritance otherwise).86 Molza’s husband was Paolo Porrino, a man about whom little is known. He was seven years older than Molza, a small age difference for the period, as Riley notes.87 The marriage seems to have been happy. Riley deems him a

“non-obstructive bystander” to her career,88 as he allowed, or perhaps encouraged, her to return to her studies with a neighbor, Lazaro Labandino, after their marriage;89 With him she studied mathematics and presumably continued her study of Latin and Greek; she was comfortable enough with the languages to produce a translation of Plato’s Crito and

Charmides from Greek into Italian. She also studied with Francesco Patrizi, who had studied at the University of Padova and held a chair at the University of Ferrara.

According to Patrizi, Molza memorized all of Virgil and the Canzoniere of Petrarch and learned Greek from the grammar book of Lascaris and from Plato’s Phaedro.90

Tarquinia was widowed at the age of thirty-seven and was the sole heir to her husband’s possessions, which allowed her to live independently. By the 1570s she was well known as a singer and was invited in 1583 to the court of the d’Este, where she acted as a lady-in-waiting to Duchess Margherita. This position would have provided her with room and board, clothing, and a salary, as well as considerable prestige. In fact, she was very popular at court, and was the subject of several poems by Torquato Tasso.

86 Riley, The Influence of Women, 10.

87 Ibid.,10. Most husbands were 15-20 years older than their wives.

88 Ibid.,11.

89Jaffe, Shining Eyes, 311.

90 Francesco Patrizi and John Charles Nelson, L’Amorosa Filosofia (Florence: Felice Le Monnier, 1963), VIII.

Molza also went on to participate in the concerto delle donne, a group of talented female singers who performed at court , for several years as a performer, lyricist and teacher. She played viola and lute.

In 1589 Molza was banished from court for allegedly conducting an affair with the composer Giaches de Wert. The two were undeniably close, and several madrigals with lyrics by Molza and music by Wert have survived.91 Tarquinia maintained that their relationship never became physical, and that the fabricated affair was brought to Duke

Alfonso’s attention by a friend and fellow composer (Vittorio Orfino) who wished to defame her out of jealousy. Nevertheless, after Molza’s departure, the Duke instructed his men to ensure that the affair was over by intercepting any communication between the two. Jaffe suggests that the Duke himself was involved with Molza, as he appeared in a tournament wearing her colors in 1584, but this is largely unfounded.

Molza spent the rest of her life in Modena, and died in August of 1617. It appears that her life there was happy. She was further honored with Roman citizenship in

December of 1600; Jaffe notes that Molza was the first woman to be awarded this privilege.92 She also earned the title of Cittadinaza of Modena and was accepted as a member of the Accademia degli Innominati in Parma, a group for authors founded in

1574 which included as its members the poet Torquato Tasso, the dramatist Battista

Guarini. The group was also affiliated with several women, including one Claudia

Noceti, about whom little is known, and the poet Barbara Torelli Benedetti, author of the

91 See Jaffe, Shining Eyes, 327, for a sample of one such madrigal, contained in Wert’s The Tenth Book of Madrigals for Five Voices, held by the Civico Museo Bibliografico Musicale in Bologna.

92Jaffe, Shining Eyes, 311.

32 pastoral play, Partenia.93 Stevenson remarks further on the exceptional nature of these honors given that Molza was by this time an aging widow;94 many other female scholars, including Cassandra Fedele, found it difficult to maintain their careers after marriage and widowhood.

Molza is perhaps remembered best as a musician, but she is also noteworthy for appearing as an interlocutor in Francesco Patrizi’s L’Amorosa Filosofia,95 a dialogue about love based on Plato’s Symposium. Patrizi calls her a nuova Diotima in the work.

Several works by Molza herself have also survived: poems, some set to music at the d’Este court, written in Latin and Italian; the two translations of Greek work mentioned above; and a Platonic/Ficinian discourse on love written for Duke Alfonso d’Este.96

Stevenson has also identified a commonplace book including an Italian translation of the

Crito, her grandfather’s Latin poetry, and exercises in Hebrew.97 Several of her works are available in a 1750 print edition from Bergamo edited by Domenico Vandelli, including a vita by the editor; letters and poems of praise written to or about Molza in Latin, Greek and Italian; her translations of the Charmides and the Crito; and several of her Italian poems.

93 Lucia Denarosi, L'Accademia Degli Innominati Di Parma: Teorie Letterarie E Progetti Di Scrittura (1574-1608) (Firenze: Società Editrice Fiorentina, 2003), 54 n69.

94 Jane Stevenson, Women Latin Poets (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005), 290.

95 The autograph of this work is in Parma (Biblioteca Palatina, Cod. Pal. 418).

96 Modena, Biblioteca Estense, g.H. 7.2, “Discourse of Love made by Tarquinia Molza to the Grand Duke.”

97Modena, Archivo Storico Communale RAS V4.

Clemenza Ninci

Clemenza Ninci was a Beneventan nun at the convent of San Michele in Prato.

Her only known work is a five-act play entitled “Sposalizio d’Iparchia Filosofa,” “The

Marriage of Hipparchia, Lady Philosopher.” The performance manuscript of the play

(Riccardiana 2974) seems to have been produced in the mid-17th century. Though other biographical information is lacking, it is possible to establish the climate in which Ninci was writing through a general study of convent life in the early modern period.

For various reasons, including a lack of suitable matches due to changes in inheritance laws, as well as rising dowry costs, women increasingly sought out or were forced into a religious life in the late 16th and early 17th centuries. Nuns in fact comprised roughly fifteen percent of Florentine women in the year 1552, not including the population of nearby cities such as Prato which contained ten convents populated mainly by Florentine women.98 In part due to these rising numbers, nuns were also the largest group of women writers in sixteenth-century Italy. Many nuns were elite, highly educated women to begin with; when they took their vows, their dowries plus the other income of the convents combined to make educational materials relatively affordable to the group as a whole.99

Life within the convent itself was somewhat varied depending on location and the attitude of local officials, but several trends do emerge. F. Medioli has noted that the nuns

98 Elissa B. Weaver, “Spiritual Fun: A Study of Sixteenth-Century Tuscan Convent Theater,” in Women in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, ed. Mary Beth Rose (Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1986), 175.

99 Ibid., 173.

34 of seventeenth-century Italy were generally subject to “strict enclosure,” or clausura, as designated by the Council of Trent in 1563, largely in response to disciplinary and safety concerns regarding convent life. These measures were supported by certain architectural changes within the convents as well, including the barring or grating of windows, the installation of double locks and the use of curtains to separate the nuns from visitors— even their own relatives. 100 Medioli notes that such enclosure could form either a prison or a refuge for religious women, citing several examples of women who attempted to escape from the convent in order to marry or resume a secular life, and several others of women who escaped to the convent from abusive relatives or unwanted marriages.101

Which of these views might correspond to Ninci’s experience is unclear.

Escape attempts and other severe breaches of clausura were punished harshly, some even with imprisonment. As Medioli notes, however:

There is no doubt that breaches did take place regularly, and that they came in all shapes and degrees. Some were of little account, such as the practice of vocal and instrumental music, a very substantial element in the life of nunneries at the time, and the comedies performed in the presence of laypeople during Carnival.102

Weaver adds that such plays were also performed on Christmas and other holidays and feast days, and had been since the medieval period, as evidenced by the more famous plays by Hildegard of Bingen and Hrotswitha.103 Weaver also cites evidence that

100Francesca Medioli, “The Dimensions of the Cloister: Enclosure, Constraint and Protection in Seventeenth-Century Italy,” in Time, Space, and Women's Lives in Early Modern Europe, ed. A.J. Schutte et al. (Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2001), 165-6.

101 Ibid., 179.

102 Ibid., 169.

103 Elissa B. Weaver, “Spiritual Fun,” 175.

35 laypeople, usually women, continued to attend the plays despite the restrictions of clausura.104 As such, Ninci’s play may have provided a rare opportunity for contact with the outside world.

It is perhaps due to the increased restriction of such activities that the sixteenth century saw in addition the growth of a movement described by G. Zarri in her discussion of celibacy among laywomen: communities of women who took a vow of celibacy without taking the veil officially, creating what Zarri calls a “third status” of women:

The “third status” of virgins who wished to serve God outside convents, legitimated by the ecclesiastical hierarchy in the mid-sixteenth century with the approval of the Ursuline and Dimesse lifestyles, contributed to providing a social identity and protective structures for female celibates, whose numbers were on the rise in early modern Italy.105

Given the rising number of women in the convents, the enforcement of clausura, and the development of movements such as those described by Zarri, one would expect women’s writing of the period to engage with themes of women’s religious life and learning, personal freedom and agency. Zarri finds, however, that outside of a few rare examples,

“no literary tradition of reflection on women’s right to liberty in the choice of life status developed.”106

Ninci’s play constitutes an important exception to this argument. In adapting the story of Hipparchia, she creates, and more importantly, resolves a conflict between the

104 Elissa B. Weaver, Convent Theater in Early Modern Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), 66.

105 Gabriella Zarri, “The Third Status,” in Time, Space, and Women's Lives in Early Modern Europe, ed. A.J. Schutte et al. (Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2001), 196.

106 Ibid., 198.

36 duties of virginity, marriage, family and the pursuit of higher forms of knowledge.

Hipparchia, in finding her own “third way,” manages to choose for herself even as she acquiesces to the will of her family, rebelling and conforming at the same time.

Hipparchia thus becomes an important learning tool for the nuns themselves—who in some cases would have had little agency in the decision to join the convent, and even less freedom upon their arrival there— by focusing on Hipparchia’s decision to make the pursuit of knowledge the defining factor in her marriage.

I will argue that catalogues of women, and the individual exempla used to create them, serve a unique function for each of these four women—a function which in turn influences the way in which each woman engages with ancient learning. In Fedele’s letters to other learned women, ancient exempla are a conservative force used to place the female scholar on a pedestal while creating a matrix of expectations specifying when and how she may step down to use her talents, a tactic that Fedele’s male correspondents also used on her. Fedele’s other works engage with Classical texts only as a source of authority, with little innovation or variety in her readings of them. For Cereta, however, exempla are progressive; the catalogue of women she creates is a crucial part of her invective against a misogynistic critic. Her works, in contrast to Fedele, are characterized by a deep engagement with multiple schools of philosophy, most notably in her Dialogue on the Funeral of a Donkey. Finally, in a dialogue featuring Tarquinia Molza as one of the chief interlocutors, we find a male author using female exempla in a subversive way, tempting the reader to mythologize Molza’s character even as she defies the expectations that the catalogue sets for her. Molza’s character uses this knowledge to accomplish a

37 bait-and-switch, leading her teacher (and the author of the work) into a rhetorical game.

Finally, Ninci engages with the tradition of Hipparchia the Cynic to create a vision of female agency through a Christianized version of Cynicism, using a single exemplum to provide a model for self-determination.

CHAPTER 2: NON HUMANA, SED DIVINA

CASSANDRA FEDELE OF VENICE (1465-1558)

Cassandra Fedele was born in Venice in 1465, a place and time marked by several social and historical trends that would act both to hinder and support Fedele’s career. By this period Venice had reached a “phase of equilibrium,” having become one of the leading powers in Italy during the Trecento.107 Constantinople had fallen just twelve years before Fedele’s birth, prompting an influx of Byzantine refugees who brought with them knowledge of Ancient Greek and as many manuscripts as they could carry. Many of these refugees settled in Venice, establishing the largest community of Greek immigrants in all of Italy; Cardinal Bessarion even dubbed the city alterum Byzantium.108 Thus

Fedele had the advantage of working in one of the largest Greek cultural centers in the

West, and one of the most powerful city-states in Italy.

Venice was also known as a center for humanist learning. The city boasted two schools in addition to the University of Padua, the sister city of Venice. In 1408 Rialto was established as a school of philosophy, while in 1450 the school of St. Mark was founded for the study of the humanities and the preparation of young men for the

107 Alberto Tenenti, "The Sense of Space and Time in the Venetian World," in Renaissance Venice, ed. J.R. Hale (London: Faber and Faber, 1973), 17-21.

108 See Deno John Geanakoplos, Constantinople and the West (Madison: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1989), 23.

Chancery. Logan notes that Rialto tended towards Aristotelianism, while St. Mark’s was devoted to Platonism;109 it is perhaps for this reason that St. Mark’s attracted the attention of humanist scholars from abroad, as Aristotelianism was associated with the old- fashioned Scholastic movement. George of Trebizond was affiliated with the school; in

1468 Cardinal Bessarion donated his library there; and Angelo Poliziano would travel to

Venice in 1480 to consult it. The University of Padua flourished in this period as well;

1463 saw the appointment of Demetrius Chalcondyles as chair of Greek. These advancements were supported by the booming print industry— Aldo Manuzio arrived in

Venice around 1491, and by the end of the decade there were around 150 presses in the city. 110

Fedele was thus entering an already thriving intellectual community, albeit one comprised almost entirely of men. As a result, resources were amply available, but as will become clear, there was pressure to fit in to the existing movement. Fedele may also have benefitted from the growing social tension of fifteenth-century Venice. The ancient houses, or case vecchie, distinguished by their lineage and origins, were threatened by the nouveau riche, the noble but less illustrious families who had amassed fortunes through the prosperous Venetian mercantile economy. Chojnacki cites the makeup of the ducal thrones as evidence for the rise of this new class to political and social prominence:

Whereas all but one of the doges elected in the two centuries before 1382 belonged to the case vecchie, after that year they would not see one of their number on the ducal throne until 1612.111

109 See Logan, Culture and Society in Venice, 69.

110 See Branca, “Ermolao Barbaro,” 220-222, and Logan, Culture and Society in Venice, 74.

111 Stanley Chojnacki, Women and Men in Renaissance Venice (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins 40

While the resources of the case vecchie were drained, new families employed their profits to secure a place in the old order, often through marriage alliances secured by enormous dowries.

As such, the threat of the new families affected the lives of women like Fedele in particular. Dowries increased exponentially during the fifteenth century, leaving many of the case vecchie struggling to marry off their daughters. To prevent the ruin of these families, and to discourage the practice of cloistering daughters for whom families could not provide a dowry, the Venetian Senate placed a limit on dowry amounts. They waived, however, the ceiling for dowries for lower-class girls marrying into noble families, an act meant to restore resources to struggling families of the old guard.112 The measure encouraged intermarriage between old and new families, eased the strain felt by the case vecchie, and presumably stemmed the practice of forced monacation. As a result, daughters of new families might be educated in order to prepare them for life as the partner of a prominent political or intellectual figure. Fedele, for instance, married a fairly prominent doctor.

In some ways, then, Fedele was working in an environment with a good deal of upward mobility. At the same time, however, the Venetian senate was largely conservative in its attitudes towards morality, sex, and gender. In addition to the dowry laws, the Venetian Senate passed other restrictions intended to encourage the production of legitimate children and limit sex outside of marriage. Many of these measures were

University Press, 2000), 55.

112 Ibid., 60.

41 extreme in comparison to the practices of other Italian city-states. Florence, for instance, lessened penalties for sodomy throughout the fifteenth century. Venice, however, was still beheading and burning offenders by the middle of the century, and saw an increase in trials after the creation of the Sodomy Tribunal in 1418.113 Venetian women were also restricted in their activities and movement, with patricians, plebeians, and prostitutes encouraged to keep to separate neighborhoods. Patrician women were particularly restricted in their movement and behavior, as evidenced by the Venetian humanist

Francesco Barbaro’s 1415 treatise On Marriage, which presents the ideal wife as “an unprotesting servant to husband and child, sober, still, and silent,”114 fulfilling her role as upholder of patrician society.

Barbaro’s text is often held up as an example the conservatism of the Venetian humanist movement. While this text cannot be expected to speak for the entire movement, it is clear that the Venetian humanists were distinct from the circles of

Florence and Rome in several ways:

[The humanists of Venice] did not form, as in Medicean Florence, an academic circle; they did not resemble a curial-academic circle such as that in papal Rome or those in Visconti and Sforza Milan and Aragonese Naples, which represented a union between chancery officials and courtiers. They were influential patricians…who almost always put their literary activities second to public service and dedicated to the humanities the time left to them after serving state and home.115

113 Ibid., 35.

114 Margaret King, Venetian Humanism in an Age of Patrician Dominance (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), 97.

115 Vittore Branca, "Ermolao Barbaro and Late Quattrocento Venetian Humanism," in Renaissance Venice, edited by J.R. Hale (London: Faber and Faber, 1973), 218-219.

Ermolao Barbaro did establish an informal academic circle known as the Accademia

Filosofica in 1484, a group that studied primarily Latin works.116 However, the Venetian movement lacked the unifying force of a leading patron; rather the humanists were themselves wealthy patricians who could support their own work. Rabil finds as a consequence that the movement was conservative as a whole:

[The movement] was open to novelty but closed to change, it welcomed new texts but abhorred new meanings, it praised eloquence but stifled criticism…it reinforced in the intellectual realm the hegemony of a ruling class that did not wish to be disturbed by new ideas…117

Margaret L. King has argued the same, focusing on the importance of unanimitas within the movement, or the “convergence of a multitude of wants and aspirations into a single will.”118

The life of Cassandra Fedele defies this model of Venetian humanism in several ways. Fedele was not a patrician, nor did she marry one; and as a female scholar, she embodied the innovation that the Venetian humanists reportedly feared. The Fedeli, originally of Milan, were cittadini, middle-class professionals who were “working for patricians, rather than being themselves patrician.”119 Ross, for example, finds among the

Fedele’s ancestors a number of doctors, lawyers, bankers and bishops. Little is known of

Fedele’s father, Angelo, though Cavazzana has found a few sparse references to him in

116 Oliver Logan, Culture and Society in Venice, 1470-1790: The Renaissance and its Heritage (New York: Scribner, 1972), 71.

117 Albert Rabil, "Humanism in Venice." In Humanism, Venice, and Women: Essays on the Italian Renaissance, ed. Margaret L. King (Aldershot, Hampshire, Great Britain: Ashgate, 2005), 210.

118 Margaret King, Venetian Humanism in an Age of Patrician Dominance (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986), 92.

119 Ross, The Birth of Feminism, 41. See also Robin, Cassandra Fedele (1465-1558), 55.

Venetian archives and descriptions of well-known citizens.120 Whatever his profession, he was learned enough to manage Fedele’s early education in Greek and Latin. Even less is known of Fedele’s mother, Barbara, or of her siblings, one brother and three sisters, with whom she rarely corresponded.

The tone of Fedele’s letters is shaped by these factors; as an outsider to the movement by virtue of her class and gender, she sought to conform to the formal styles and traditions of the humanist movement. As Robin explains, “The book of autobiographical letters was the humanist’s curriculum vitae,” and Fedele’s differs little in form and content from the epistolae familiares of Bruni, Bracciolini, Poliziano and other male humanists.121 Her letterbook is mainly concerned with developing and displaying her relationship to prominent people. As such, there are few personal details, and little in-depth discussion of texts or ideas. The tone is formal, and the writing formulaic at times. It is almost as if Fedele is aware of Rabil’s earlier assertion, capitalizing on the novelty of a young female prodigy while avoiding any innovation within her works.

For instance, genealogy was ever-important in humanist circles as part of the effort to restore and emulate the past. Fedele therefore attempted to create a patrician background for herself through her contacts. She corresponded, for instance, with

Balthassare Fedele, the archbishop of Mutina and Modena, regarding their shared lineage,

120 Cesira Cavazzana, Cassandra Fedele, Erudita Veneziana del Rinascimento (Venice: Tip. Antonio Pellizzato, 1906), 8 n. 1-2.

121 Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 35; Robin, Biography as Ef-facement, 190.

44 prompting him to respond with a letter122 in which he explains how the family, formerly called the Magi, earned the title of “faithful ones,” fideles, through their appointment to special offices by the Visconti in Milan. It is not a typical humanist genealogy;

Balthassare does not trace the family back to the Classical era, and bases their identity in events contemporary with the early Crusades. He does, however, give Cassandra a prominent place in his history, proclaiming, “you alone are enough for an eternity of

Fideli,” sola sufficis aeternitati Fidelium.123

Balthassare then creates a second genealogy for Cassandra through his references to Sappho, Aspasia and Hortensia, Cassandra’s learned female predecessors. The reference to Aspasia is particularly striking; most encomia avoid referencing this figure, perhaps because she was a courtesan. After grounding Cassandra’s legacy in this ancient tradition of educated women, however, he proclaims her to be exceptional: she is rarer than a phoenix, rarior Phoenice.124 His other praise focuses on her virginity, and her unique status as an individual possessing both male and female traits: virginitas and morum integritas, but also the ars and facultas of rhetoric and science. 125 Balthassare’s praise is indicative of several themes in the encomia of educated women: motifs of exceptionality and chastity are prominent, as well as ancient exempla. Furthermore, women are praised specifically for taking on masculine attributes, as above. This trend

122 Fedele, Epistolae,168-72. Balthassare’s response is Letter 112; Cassandra’s request is Letter 41 in the same edition, pages 62-64.

123 Ibid.,171.

124 Ibid., 171.

125 Ibid., 172.

45 can be found throughout Fedele’s own work. Rather than distinguish herself as a leader among women, encouraging others to rise higher, she tends to obscure herself in the long tradition of learned women, using references to Classical sources as a way to include herself in a recognizable phenomenon. She lacks a patrician pedigree, so she invents a new one, in part through her lineage, but overwhelmingly through her references and connections to learned women of the past.

In this one very important way, then, Fedele’s letterbook differs from those of male humanists. As Robin notes:

In male humanist letters gender is not an issue since the “natural” superiority of the male over the female is a given.126

Robin groups the themes that differentiate Fedele’s letter-writing from that of other humanists into three groups:

(1) those privileging chastity, the purity of body, and the absence of sexual knowledge over learning and wisdom; (2) themes of lack, privation, deficiency, and diminution; and (3) the theme of transsexuality or hermaphroditism.127

The first and last of these themes also pervade the letters written in reply to Fedele.

The theme of chastity is strongly connected to the humanist trope of modesty; male authors often deride their own work in order to gain the sympathy of the audience.

Female modesty, however, is tied explicitly to the body, whereas male modesty revolves around the speaker’s abilities and education, and his own perception and presentation of these characteristics to an audience—as opposed to the public presence of his body, his open mouth, etc. The female speaker must defend her physical presence in a way that the

126 Robin, Cassandra Fedele (1465-1558), 58.

127 Robin, Biography as Ef-facement, 191.

46 male speaker does not, often by focusing on virginity, chastity and the inherent weakness of the female mind and body.

Chastity was also a concern for the men who corresponded with the female humanists; writing to a young unmarried woman might attract criticism and tarnish her reputation. To avoid striking the wrong tone, male correspondents often used the language of family and patronage. Ross notes that the Modenese humanist Sasso da Sassi addresses Fedele “within the framework of the father-patron/daughter-client relationship.”128 She argues further that “this rhetorical decision indicates his desire to avoid suspicion concerning his intentions, as well as his concern for her reputation.” 129

Sasso also refers to Fedele as a mother, maintaining the illusion of a familial connection for the same purpose. In addition to lending an air of propriety, the motif of the father- daughter relationship highlights the unequal status of the two correspondents. While the deference of the client towards the patron is a given in this type of relationship, the father-daughter motif goes further by implying obedience and even ownership. Fedele, too, uses this kind of rhetoric with other correspondents, addressing her patrons and friends as father-figures.

These concerns about chastity lead to another phenomenon in Fedele’s writing.

She often describes herself in terms of what she lacks: she is untouched, has little experience, is barely strong enough to speak. This kind of “negative” self-fashioning has in recent years reshaped our conception of what it means to write an autobiography. As

128 Ross, The Birth of Feminism, 45.

129 Ibid.

47 de Man and Robin have argued, the act of self-fashioning is not solely creative, but

“privative and disfiguring.”130 Fedele must obscure herself in certain ways to gain the favor of the audience, de-emphasizing qualities that might seem threatening or unattractive in a female speaker. Robin cites Fedele’s overuse of the diminutive as one example:

To the end that her power—verbal, intellectual, and dialectical—should not appear menacing or lacking in decorum, Fedele uses the privative force of diminutives to represent her own lack, her own insufficiency—of talent, mind, learning and work. She is merely an audacula, “a pushy little woman,” she constantly reassure her readers.131

This extends not just to words describing Fedele herself, but also her work; in addition to femella, homuncula, and servula, which make Fedele a little woman, a “manlet,” as

Robin translates, and a little servant, Robin also finds ingeniolum, litterulae and voculis, describing Fedele’s talent, letters and words. 132 Robin concludes that Fedele employs a

“rhetoric of shrinkage”133 to render her activities, and her very self, less threatening.

A fourth category of themes, identified by Jardine, appears in the letters written to and about female humanists: the isolation of the exceptional woman, accomplished through praise. The female humanist is often placed on a pedestal and glorified as a goddess, a figure from mythology, or even an absent, chaste lover. Jardine has explored

130 Robin, Biography as Ef-facement,187. See also Paul de Man, “Autobiography as De-facement,” MLN 94 (1979): passim.

131Ibid., 193.

132 Ibid., 193.

133 Ibid., 195.

48 this tendency in the letters of Poliziano (sometimes called Politian) to Alessandra Scala.

She writes:

Politian addresses a succession of Greek epigrams to ‘Alessandra poetess’ which transform the exchange from one between Greek virtuosi into a series of formalized lover’s addresses to an absent beloved, hoping for some substantial sign of favor…Scala is thus effectively excluded from the exchange altogether, in spite of Politian’s continuing protestations of admiration.134

This trend appears in Fedele’s correspondence as well. When Fedele scolds Poliziano for being inattentive to her, he responds:

tuque te diutius expectantem habitu quondam pulcro pulcherrima ipsa quasi Nympham de silvis obtulisses, mox ornatissimis copiosisque verbis atque… diuinum quiddam sonantibus compellasses, ita mihi animus repente…miraculo illo tanto, et rei novitate obstupuit.135

And when you finally presented your lovely self, awaiting me in a beautiful dress like a nymph from the forest, and then addressed me with many ornate words— sounds of a divine nature— then my mind suddenly was stupefied by this great miracle, and by the novelty of the thing.

Poliziano then compares himself to Aeneas, echoing, as Robin notes, Aeneid 3.48, in which the hero is transfixed by the ghost of Polydorus.136 This response dodges Fedele’s accusations using the same rhetorical strategies employed to distance her from the humanist movement. Fedele is super— or subhuman, with Poliziano responding to her as though she is a ghost, a goddess, or a sideshow curiosity, so shocking is her act of speech.

Poliziano’s praise of Fedele brings up an important issue: the power of praise as an enforcer of normative behavior. As a prominent female scholar, Fedele is a threatening

134 Grafton and Jardine, From Humanism to the Humanities, 57.

135 Poliziano in Fedele, Epistolae, 160-161.

136 Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 102 n. 123.

49 anomaly. As such, encomia of Fedele seek to place her on a pedestal, and so outside the realm of the humanists. As Grafton and Jardine put it, “only if mythologized can the woman humanist be celebrated without causing the male humanist professional embarrassment.”137 By raising Fedele to the level of a goddess or an Amazon, her correspondents effectively isolate her from the activities of the male humanists. Her learning is ornamental rather than practical; responses to her work thus lack what Cox calls “engaged criticism,”138 a crucial element in teacher-student exchanges. Her work already fulfills the appropriate function, and there is no need to develop it further. This may be why Poliziano failed to respond to Fedele after their initial correspondence;

Cassandra is interesting as an object of curiosity, not as a true scholar. Grafton and

Jardine suggest too that “the actual exchange of letters and views with the real girl ranked rather low on [Poliziano’s] list of intellectual priorities.”139

The authors furthermore argue that the work of female humanists “is celebrated by their male correspondents in terms of abstract intellectual ideal...or in terms of social ideal.”140 In other words, the skills of the female humanists have no practical value.

Jardine makes this important distinction in her discussion of accomplishment versus profession.141 Male humanists were expected to apply their skills to the benefit of the

137 Grafton and Jardine, From Humanism to the Humanities, 57.

138 Virginia Cox, Women’s Writing in Italy, 1400-1650 (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 119.

139 Grafton and Jardine, From Humanism to the Humanities, 51.

140 Grafton and Jardine, From Humanism to the Humanities, 55.

141 Jardine, O Decus Italiae Virgo, 815-16.

50 public, and were employed as scribes, teachers, and notaries. Humanism was for them a profession. Female humanists, on the other hand, were not expected to continue their studies after a certain point. Their learning was merely a form of “cultural capital,”142 with limited practical application.

It is for this reason, perhaps, that Fedele’s career stalled when she married. She had no further outlet for her work, and as she aged and married she lost many of the characteristics that had contributed to her fame. Robin explains:

…Poliziano and other influential writers dwelt on her physical appearance in their eulogies of her, reporting more on the elegance of her gowns, the grace of her gestures, and the loveliness of her face unspoiled by makeup than on the content of her writings and her thought. When Fedele reached her early thirties and was no longer looked upon as a child prodigy or a stunning young beauty, she found her career path seriously blocked. 143

In other words, the female humanist became a type, a “genus of representatives of female worth,”144 representing a positive exemplum for their sex as a whole, rather than being valued for her individual talents; and when Fedele no longer fit the model, she was cast aside.

It is not entirely clear what Fedele herself thought of the position of women in humanism. There are, however, a few hints. In a letter to Francesco Gonzago, she writes of abandoning feminine things (cultu foemineo relicto)145 in pursuit of renown, a

142 Ross, The Birth of Feminism, 52.

143 Robin, Cassandra Fedele (1465-1558), 57.

144 Grafton and Jardine, From Humanism to the Humanities, 53.

145 Fedele, Epistolae, 1.

51 common trope in the writings of female humanists and one also employed by Laura

Cereta. Fedele often implies the inferiority of the female sex and of traditionally female tasks and attributes when courting the favor of a patron or audience. While this might be a rhetorical strategy rather than a sincere view, other evidence suggests that Fedele felt that the demands of womanhood were at odds with the pursuit of education. For instance,

Alessandra Scala, daughter of Bartolomeo Scala, chancellor of Florence, sought Fedele’s opinion on marriage, asking whether she should continue her studies or take a husband.

Fedele’s reply assumes that the two choices are mutually exclusive, and advises ambiguously to choose the path for which Nature has suited her: (id tibi de hac re eligendum censeo, ad quod te magis proclivem natura constituit).146

Fedele may also have discussed the education of women in her oration to the

Venetian Senate, entitled de laudibus litterarum147 by Tomasini, but there are problems with Tomasini’s edition of the text. Fedele proclaims in this oration that there is an intrinsic value to education, which she herself has enjoyed, after which the last lines of the oration (as printed by Tomasini) read:

mecumque reputarim in eam ultro abiecta atque exsecrata colo et acu mulierculae armis procurri sententiam, etsi literarum [sic] studia nulla feminis proemia nullamque dignitatem pollicerentur atque praestarent, fuisse tamen cuique capessenda amplectandaque, ob eam solam voluptatem, ac delectationem quae inde eis Cetera desiderantur. 148

And when I consider the thought of setting forth with the needle and distaff—the abject and accursed weapons of the woman— even if the study of literature offers

146Ibid., 167.

147 Ibid., 201.

148 Ibid., 207. Emphasis mine.

no reward or honor for women— [I think] it must be taken up and embraced if only for the sake of pleasure and enjoyment. The rest is lacking.

Just as Fedele begins to discuss the education of women the text ends with a note from

Tomasini in italics. Robin hypothesizes that he simply left the ending out and placed this note to indicate something like “et cetera.”149 I suspect, however, that desiderantur implies the rest of the text was damaged or missing in Tomasini’s sources. The text that does remain constitutes a restrained defense of the education of women that does not live up to Fedele’s own educational goals and motivations, as seen in her letters; she states in several throughout the collection that she craves renown, implying that she seeks satisfaction beyond the joy of learning for its own sake.150

Though Fedele achieved her goal in some sense—she was certainly renowned in her earlier years, and enjoyed the attentions of many prominent scholars— the praise she received was in many ways detrimental to her life as a scholar. Praise rhetoric can serve to undermine the work of female scholars by excluding them from mainstream movements and precluding discussion of their work as anything other than a charming anomaly. This section will build on the work of Jardine in this area, focusing on how other writers, male and female, conceive of Fedele and her place in the history of learned women and the philosophical schools, vis-à-vis Renaissance categories of femininity, ancient female models, and the themes that Robin has identified.

149 Diana Robin and Cassandra Fedele, Letters and Orations (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2000), 166 n.26.

150 See for example her letter to Francesco Gonzaga: Fedele, Epistolae, 1-3.

The Letters: Catalogues of Women

The letters considered in this section are written to and by a range of patrons, male and female, of various political status and age. These include Queen Isabella of

Spain; Beatrice of Hungary, who was the sister of Eleonora of Aragon, the duchess of

Ferrara; and Angelo Poliziano, tutor to the Medici and Alessandra Scala. These works reveal the ways in which praise can in fact position, redefine, or prescribe female behavior, often through the use of ancient exempla drawn from Boccaccio and other catalogues of women. Queen Isabella’s praise of Fedele and invitation to join her court can be seen as an attempt to create a living catalogue of extraordinary women, and in so doing make exceptionality the norm. She translates her ancient exempla into a new context, asking Fedele to step forward as a leader of women, like an ancient Amazonian queen. Fedele’s letter to Queen Beatrice is somewhat more conservative. Her examples, largely drawn from Boccaccio, illustrate qualities that are vital for the young Queen’s rule— feminine castitas combined with masculine gravitas. This letter also demonstrates how Fedele positions herself within this tradition— she refers several times to herself and her work using feminine diminutives, minimizing her accomplishments in the face of these eminent exempla. Finally, Poliziano’s letter situates Fedele among dozens of ancient learned women active in the disciplines of philosophy, poetry and oratory— exempla that, in effect, define the appropriate moment and mode for female action within each area.

Patron to Client: Isabella, Queen of Sicily, to Cassandra Fedele, September 1488151

Born in 1451, Isabella would have been thirty-seven at the time of this letter, while Fedele would have been twenty-three. The queen herself was well known as a virago or mujer varonil, an unsexed woman, terms that could have a positive or negative connotation at the time.152 Her accomplishments and persona were extremely public, and she often outwitted and defeated male competitors in war and politics, as M. Lunenfeld has described:

Isabella the Catholic seems as forceful a mujer varonil or virago as one is likely to encounter. She outmaneuvered the kings of Castile, Aragon and Portugal, usurped a throne, won a difficult civil war and then tenaciously fought a decade-long struggle against the Moors.153

Her education was also formidable. Trained in the usual fields of reading and writing as a young girl, she turned to Latin later in life and saw to the education of her own daughters:

A proud woman herself, late to a scant knowledge of Latin painfully acquired during the Granada War years [roughly 1482-1492], Isabella made sure that her children would never be humiliated in the company of learned men. Beatriz de Galindo, called La Latina, instructed the girls and possibly Isabella herself in the nuances of grammar. Antonio Geraldini, a leading scholar, was engaged to expound upon the Christian poets, the Latin Fathers and the pagans, chiefly Seneca.154

151Fedele, Epistolae, 19.

152 M. Lunenfeld, "Isabella I of Castile and the Company of Women in Power," Historical Reflections 4, no. 2 (1977): 58.

153 Ibid., 58.

154 Ibid., 72.

Isabella’s efforts produced several generations of powerful and highly educated women.

Her daughter Catherine would go on to marry Henry VIII and prepare their daughter,

Mary, to rule as Queen of England. Isabella’s own interest in Latin, her attempts to add

Fedele to her court, and her extensive library further demonstrate the Queen’s dedication to learning.155

This letter, written roughly three years after the Queen probably began her study of Latin, suggests that the Queen was a quick study, with a grasp of periodic structure and the appropriate tone and vocabulary for a letter to a client. She addresses Fedele as a noble youngster, “ingenua adolescentula,” using a diminutive of adolescens to emphasize

Fedele’s great youth, and the age difference between the two women. Queen Isabella then invites Fedele to join her at court, flattering her with a comparison drawn from ancient exempla:

Alterum quod sexum et aetatem nostram non minus per te literariae laudis consecuturam confidimus, quam quondam militaris gloriae per Panthesileam Amazones fuerint consecutae.156

We trust on the one hand that through you, our sex and our era will earn just as much praise for literature as the Amazons achieved in war through Penthesilea.

The comparison to the war-like, unfeminine Amazons highlights the masculine nature of

Fedele’s intellect, and is underscored by Isabella’s own Amazonian qualities. It also recalls the humanist preoccupation with restoring the golden age, albeit a slightly different version of it; in Isabella’s Renaissance, a woman rules, and women as a sex are uplifted by the feats of their most prominent sisters.

155 Ibid., 72 n. 74: Lunenfeld notes that her library contained works of the Italian humanists, romances, “ribald” stories, philosophy, astrology and much more.

156 Fedele, Epistolae, 19. 56

The themes that appear in Isabella’s invitation are typical of the praise surrounding Fedele: she is exceptional, combining the qualities of male and female, a credit to her sex. In other instances, these claims only highlight the disparate expectations for male and female scholars, isolating Fedele from other women and other scholars and allowing her membership only in an abstract catalogue of women, living and dead, mortal and immortal. For Isabella, however, to make these claims is another matter entirely. Her court is a living catalogue of exceptional women, and by inviting figures like Fedele to court, Isabella makes exceptionality the norm. Furthermore, her support of women like

Fedele defies the dichotomy of profession vs. accomplishment, creating a third option for women who otherwise could not expect to make a career out of their studies.

Ultimately, Fedele was unable to accept the Queen’s invitation due to illness and war in Italy, factors she discusses in a letter written in 1495.157 Even in the absence of these impediments, Fedele’s departure would likely have been problematic. As Robin argues, it is likely that Fedele’s friends and patrons would have objected to her leaving, fearing that she might “somehow be used as political capital in the struggle between the two great powers, France and Spain, for hegemony in the Italian peninsula.”158 Fedele herself was also reluctant to leave her family and native city, as she describes in a letter from 1492, though she concludes that she would rather be a subject of the Queen.159 The

157 Ibid., 93-94.

158Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 18.

159Fedele, Epistolae, 87-89.

57 claim that the Venetian council formally forbade Fedele from leaving, however, lacks archival evidence, and stems largely from a claim by Tomasini in his vita.160

Had Fedele accepted the offer, it is likely that she would have taken a leading role in the education of the Queen and her children, perhaps writing or editing speeches or letters on their behalf, and speaking on important occasions.161 Her skills would have found daily use and provided opportunity for advancement in court, while allowing her to live independently from her family. It would also have allowed her access to Isabella’s library and connect her with other prominent politicians and scholars. Though the invitation was predicated on her exceptionality, once there, Fedele would have enjoyed a life among her peers, and attention to the content of her scholarship and intellect, rather than their mere existence.

Client to Patron: Cassandra Fedele to Beatrice of Aragon, January 1488162

Beatrice of Aragon (1457-1508) was the daughter of Ferdinand I (or Ferrante) of

Naples and Isabella of Clermont, and Fedele’s senior by about ten years. She was one of six children, and she was closest with her elder sister Eleonore, who also corresponded with Fedele after becoming Duchess of Ferrara. Information on her early life and education is scarce, but it can be assumed that, as a princess, she would have had training

160 See also Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 5. Tomasini claims that a decree was passed declaring Fedele an ornament of the state, but no supporting evidence has ever been found.

161 See also Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 18, for the typical duties of such appointments.

162 Fedele, Epistolae, 33-35.

58 in Latin and other fields; in fact, Beatrice reportedly gave a Latin oration in Venice during her marriage procession to Hungary.163

Beatrice was engaged to Matthias Corvinus, King of Hungary, in 1474, and married in 1476.164 Antonio Bonfini (1434-1503), an Italian humanist and court historian for Queen Beatrice and King Matthias during the last quarter of the 15th century, describes Beatrice’s influence on the Hungarian court in his Rerum Ungaricum Decades.

Upon her marriage, the young princess set out on a lavish procession to her new home in

Hungary, where she established a court that was both extremely formal and immensely decadent. Beatrice and her husband reportedly wished to establish Hungary as a “second

Italy,”165 summoning Italian scholars, artists, and even cheese-makers to their court.

Beatrice would continue to uphold Italian traditions until the death of her husband in

1490, which left her so powerless that she eventually fled to Naples, where she died in

1509.166

It is possible that Beatrice hoped Fedele would join her in Hungary and so add to her collection of Italian scholars and celebrities. The trajectory of Fedele’s letters does not, however, suggest that she was ever formally invited to court, nor does the

163 See Leslie Domonkos, “A Renaissance Wedding: The Nuptials of the Italian Princess Beatrice of Aragon and Matthias Corvinus, King of Hungary,” in Women in History, Literature and the Arts, ed. Lorrayne Y. Baird-Lange and Thomas A. Copeland (Youngstown: Youngstown State University, 1989) 46.

164 Ibid., 43-45.

165 Antonio Bonfini, “Ten Books on Hungarian Matters,” transl. Caryll Green, in The Renaissance in Europe: An Anthology, ed. Peter Elmer et. al (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000), 207. For a partial Latin edition of this text see Rózsa Feuer-Tóth, Art and Humanism in Hungary in the Age of Matthias Corvinus (Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1990), 125-129.

166 See Domonkos, “A Renaissance Wedding,” 53-54, on Beatrice’s failure to adapt to the Hungarian court and customs. 59 correspondence between the two women seem to have progressed beyond the formal exchanges typical of a potential patron and her client. In fact, very little remains of the pair’s ten-year correspondence. Unfortunately, Tomasini does not include any letters written by Beatrice, and just three letters from Fedele to the Queen: one from April of an unspecified year,167 one from January 1488, and one from October 1497, after the death of the Queen’s husband, when she was struggling to regain power in Hungary by remarrying a pretender to the throne.168 The first letter discusses a speech of praise given by Sigismondo, an orator at Beatrice’s court; the second is an encomium to the Queen, replete with references to ancient women as exempla; while the last, and shortest, letter expresses Fedele’s regret at not being able to write more due to her illness. The second of these letters is the most personal of the three, and the most revealing. In it, Fedele praises the Queen as a patron of the arts and an exemplary woman, and in doing so hints at her understanding of herself as an exceptional woman.

Fedele’s references to ancient women create a matrix of expectations defined almost entirely in relation to the masculine. These women are praiseworthy for their ability to combine masculine and feminine traits; or for not allowing their natural female weakness to prevent them from taking action. Furthermore, in the Fedele’s original source, most likely Boccaccio’s de claris mulieribus, their actions are evaluated almost exclusively in terms of their effect on men; only one, Hortensia, earns praise for speaking on behalf of other women. Thus Fedele’s catalogue, while ostensibly meant to flatter

167 Fedele, Epistolae, 108-109.

168 Ibid., 99-101.

Beatrice, simultaneously serves to delimit the appropriate times and places for female action and to imply that the masculine is naturally preferable to the feminine. Fedele’s women become exceptional by becoming men.

Fedele sets the tone by recognizing the Queen as a potential patron, and at the same time, places her own exceptionality at the forefront:

acceperim pronam in literatos esse, et praesertim in sexum nostrum.169

I have learned that you are favorable to scholars, and especially to our sex.

Fedele presents herself as a member of two groups that do not normally overlap– scholars and women— and uses her language to keep the two groups separate. Where Laura

Cereta and other female writers self-consciously use feminine nouns such as oratrix, or append feminine adjectives to typically masculine terms, as in “sola sapiens,” Fedele uses the masculine literatos, and then uses a separate phrase to emphasize her gender.

This is in keeping with Fedele’s use of the feminine, which is largely restricted to acts of self-effacement and often linked to her use of the diminutive, as when she calls herself a

Tyruncula, a little beginner, in this letter.170

Fedele’s juxtaposition of masculine and feminine terms is indicative of a larger theme in this letter. As Robin notes, the examples Fedele chooses display qualities not usually found together:

Fedele’s exemplary women synthesize two character traits that, according to male humanist discourse, could not be combined in women: chastity and rhetorical skill. The open mouth signified the open womb. 171

169 Ibid., 33.

170 Ibid., 34. See also Robin’s note on this term in Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 34 n44.

171 Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 26. 61

Fedele points specifically to six ancient women who embody these qualities, writing that the Queen is superior not only to them, but to all women, past and present:

Nam castitate Lucretiam, Sulpiciam,172 Sabinas antecellis, gravitate ac venustate Veturiam173 Romanam, Eloquentia ac copia dicendi Calpurniam, ac Hortensiam superas longeque anteis. 174

For you exceed Lucretia, Sulpicia and the Sabines in chastity, the Roman Veturia in authority and charm, Calpurnia in eloquence and speaking ability; you surpass and outstrip even Hortensia by far.

Fedele’s exempla as a group combine the traditionally female characteristics of castitas and venustas with masculine gravitas and eloquentia. This is in keeping with much of the rhetoric concerning exceptional women; they are recognized as outstanding, and sometimes dangerous, for their ability to combine masculine and feminine qualities.

Fedele is most likely familiar with Lucretia, Sulpicia, Veturia and Hortensia through Boccaccio’s De mulieribus claris. All four women embody the feminine traits privileged by the author throughout his work. The other two references display similar characteristics, despite being drawn from other sources. The Sabine Women were perhaps known to Fedele through Livy, while Calpurnia’s ill-omened dream is mentioned

172 Fedele is probably referring to one of the Sulpicias included by Boccaccio, either the wife of Truscellio or the wife of Fulvius Flaccus. Robin, however, suggests that the reference is to Sulpicia, the poet associated with Tibullus. This is possible, but the widespread practice of drawing from Boccaccio’s catalogue suggests the former.

173 Tomasini reads Vetruria; I have corrected to Veturia, the name of the Roman matron described by Livy in book 2.40, and in Boccacio’s De mulieribus claris.

174 Fedele, Epistolae, 33-34.

62 by Plutarch in his Lives (Caes. 63), which were widely available in Latin translation in fifteenth-century Italy. 175

Each of these women embodies qualities highly relevant to Beatrice’s concerns as a young, foreign Queen. Many are remarkable for their use of persuasive speech, which is most often attributed to women in a negative sense, as in the classic example of Eve—too much persuasion can be dangerous to men, and to women’s chastity. These exemplary women, however, only use public, persuasive speech when absolutely necessary to protect the interests of their husbands, their country, or occasionally, other women. When at all possible, they act in the background, usually by influencing a male relative. Several of them alternatively act as intermediaries between men, advocating peace and compromise, with all of them placing chastity and spousal loyalty over their own lives and fortunes. These qualities make them especially appropriate examples for a king’s consort.

The first exemplum, Lucretia, wife of Collatinus, was a well-known model of female chastity, appearing in chapter XLVIII of De mulieribus claris.176 Boccaccio describes the rape of Lucretia by Sextus, her report of the event, given “cum lacrimis et ordine,” “with tears, yet in order.” She is represented as calm and decisive throughout the whole ordeal, even as she commits suicide. Boccaccio commends her for maintaining her

175 Salutati and Chrysoloras sparked renewed interest in the Lives during the late fourteenth century. The Lives continued to be popular throughout the fifteenth century, and were translated into Latin by Bruni, Francesco Barbaro, Francesco Filelfo and many others. See Marianne Pade, The Reception of Plutarch’s Lives in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, University of Copenhagen, 2007) 89-96.

176See Giovanni Bocaccio and Virginia Brown, Famous Women (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001), 194-198.

63 reputation for virtue; though her pudicitia was compromised through no fault of her own,

Lucretia declares that she will not live on as an impudica, an unchaste woman. Her death by the knife (cultrum) is particularly significant. Women in classical mythology tend not to resort to the sword, and those that do are “either in more unusual situations than is typical or are more resolute in their decisions to die.”177 They also tend to be married or sexually active, as Dido and Deianaira, or even Thisbe, who, though not sexually active, was meeting her lover with intention of becoming so.178

Both of the women named Sulpicia in Boccaccio’s catalogue are models of chastity and self-sacrifice. While it is not clear to which of these women Fedele refers, it is possible that the reference would bring to mind both, and so evoke the related themes of spousal loyalty and chastity. As depicted in chapter LXXXV, Sulpicia, wife of

Truscellio, follows her husband into exile and endures poverty and deprivation rather than seeking a divorce.179 In chapter LXVII, Sulpicia, wife of Fulvius Flaccus, is chosen to consecrate a statue dedicated to Venus Verticordia, an honor reserved for the most modest woman in Rome. The entry on this Sulpicia is followed by a rather extreme digression on female chastity; Boccaccio writes that a chaste woman must avoid speech, idleness, song, dance, drinking, makeup, extravagant dress, and even direct eye contact, instead keeping her mind on housework and other wifely duties.180

177 Elise P. Garrison, "Suicide in Classical Mythology: An Essay," Diotima (2000), accessed February 24, 2015, http://www.stoa.org/diotima/essays/garrison_essay.shtml.

178 See in general, Garrison, “Suicide.”

179Boccaccio and Brown, Famous Women, 350-353.

180 Ibid., 279-281. 64

Veturia, in contrast, presents a strange case. Boccaccio lauds her for scolding her son, Coriolanus, as he marched on Rome, saving the city. Yet, as a result of her actions, the Senate passed certain measures intended to honor women: they were permitted to wear certain ornaments and clothing, receive inheritances, and Veturia herself was honored with a temple. Men were also required to yield the path to women as they passed. Boccaccio is unsure whether these measures “ought to be more odious to men or more pleasing to women,”181 complaining that women drain the fortunes of their male relations, deprive them of inheritances, and demand praise for all women, even if they are not worthy. Veturia’s actions, though praiseworthy, “brought on many conveniences to women, and many inconveniences to men,”182 rendering the message of Boccaccio’s story somewhat ambiguous.

Hortensia, however, brought advantages to the women of Rome without any ill effect for men; Boccaccio reports in chapter LXXXIV183 that she spoke before the Senate in favor of repealing certain unreasonable taxes imposed on women. He emphasizes that no man could be found to defend the women’s case, and that Hortensia seemed to lose all female qualities during her speech. For Boccaccio, then, the act of speech is acceptable and natural to women only when necessity demands.

The Sabine women and Calpurnia are absent from Boccaccio’s catalogue. Fedele may be drawing from Livy’s report of the Sabine women’s role in the founding of Rome

181Ibid., 229.

182 Ibid., 229.

183 Ibid., 348-349.

(Ab urbe condita 1.9). Robin emphasizes that they “bravely fought their rapists to no avail,”184 an act which certainly figures into Fedele’s decision to reference them. Livy, however, emphasizes also that they played a prominent role in establishing peace between their own relatives and their new husbands:

tum Sabinae mulieres… crinibus passis scissaque veste victo malis muliebri pavore, ausae se inter tela volantia inferre, ex transverso impetu facto dirimere infestas acies, dirimere iras, hinc patres hinc viros orantes ne se sanguine nefando soceri generique respergerent…“si adfinitatis inter vos, si conubii piget, in nos vertite iras; nos causa belli, nos volnerum ac caedium viris ac parentibus sumus; melius peribimus quam sine alteris vestrum viduae aut orbae vivemus.”185

Then the Sabine women, with their hair flowing and garments torn, dared to go amongst the flying weapons, their womanly fear conquered by their troubles. They cut off the hostile battle lines from opposing attack, and dissolved their anger, entreating their parents and husbands lest they should defile themselves with the sacred blood of sons-in-law and fathers-in-law: “If you are ashamed to be related, and ashamed of this marriage-bond, then turn your wrath upon us; we are the cause of the war, and of death and injury to our parents and husbands. We would rather perish than live without either of you as widows or orphans.”

The Sabine women invade the masculine territory of the battle line and use public speech to disarm the warriors, invoking common blood to end the war. Their natural state is aversion to weapons; but like Lucretia, necessity pushes them to act. Their solution, self- sacrifice, echoes the suicide of Lucretia and the exile of Sulpicia— the well-being and reputation of the family outweigh the needs of the individual woman. This is a highly relevant theme considering Beatrice’s own situation—as a princess of Italy and Queen of

Hungary, she, too, is the foundation for cooperation between two peoples.

184Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 33 n.40.

185 Liv. 1.13

There are two possibilities for the identity of the Calpurnia that Fedele mentions.

Robin identifies her as the wife of Caesar, who tried to dissuade her husband from going to the forum on the Ides of March.186 The only other Calpurnia that comes to mind is

Pliny’s wife, whose miscarriage is the subject of letter 8.10. Though beloved by her husband, this seems an unlikely choice for Fedele’s list of exempla. Calpurnia, wife of

Caesar, is more in keeping with Fedele’s other references; she uses persuasive speech in an attempt to save her husband, a Roman leader, after dreaming of his demise.

Fedele’s sources thus reveal a trend in the exempla that she chooses: these women all become exemplary in extreme circumstances, in which the fabric of the society or the family has begun to tear. Lucretia’s suicide prompts the end of an already oppressive tyranny; Sulpicia’s husband was under threat of death, forced into exile; the kidnapping of the Sabine women is the source of a potential war. Veturia sees her son Coriolanus turn against his family and the state; Calpurnia foresees the murder of Caesar, which will bring decades of civil war; and finally Hortensia speaks to repeal a tax levied in order to support those very wars (42 BC), and only does so when no man can be found to do the job. Furthermore, Kolsky notes of several other works inspired by Boccaccio’s catalogue,

“the agency of the female biographical subject is subordinated to the restoration of masculine values.”187 This argument can be broadened to include Fedele’s exempla; only one of the women listed produces any lasting change in the status of women (Veturia).

186Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 33 n.40.

187 Kolsky, The Ghost of Boccaccio, 19.

The others step down from their new roles when the balance of the society is restored, shifting the power balance back in favor of men.

The miniature catalogue that Fedele creates in order to praise Beatrice is therefore complicit in the process of establishing exemplary women as the exception; and furthermore creates the sense that their exemplarity comes just as much from the circumstances surrounding them as from the qualities of the individual woman. In this way, then, Fedele’s exempla function as a conservative force—not in any political sense, but simply in terms of preserving a vision of the past, in which exemplary women only stepped forward under very particular circumstances.

Angelo Poliziano to Cassandra Fedele, 1491.188

The most famous, and most discussed, letter of all those included by Tomasini is addressed to Fedele from the Florentine humanist Angelo Poliziano (1454-1494), tutor to the Medici, author of works in Italian and Latin, and translator of Plato, Galen and

Hippocrates. Tomasini includes several letters to and from Poliziano, most of which are undated, though Fedele addressed one letter to him as late as April 1494, just six months from his death, which would occur in September of that same year. Apart from the encomium, the letters exchanged between the two tend to be brief and full of epistolary commonplaces: exhortations to write more often, excuses and apologies for not doing so, and requests to send greetings to others in Poliziano’s circles, such as Marcilio Ficino and

Bartolomeo Scala. Though brief, these letters add a great deal of weight to Fedele’s

188 Fedele, Epistolae, 155-158. King and Rabil date this letter to 1491, though no date is included in Tomasini’s edition (King and Rabil, Her Immaculate Hand, 126). 68 collection, proving her connection to the Florentine branch of humanists. The encomium, however, is the most impressive, constituting a direct endorsement from one of the most famous and brilliant humanists of Fedele’s time.

Poliziano begins his encomium by appealing to Fedele’s exceptionality. He writes that he is astonished that this letter could come from a woman (femina) let alone a young virgin (puella and virgo). The astonishment stems from two trends already discussed here: the supposed incompatibility of masculine and feminine traits, and in particular the inability of a woman who speaks publicly to maintain her chastity. Poliziano then launches into a catalogue of other famous women, all of whom Fedele surpasses.

Poliziano gives three lists of women:

Women of whom the earlier times can no longer boast: Muses, Sibyls, Pythian prophetesses, Pythagorean women philosophers, Socrates’ Diotima, Aspasia.

Women poets (poetriae) recorded by Greek monuments: Telesilla, Corinna, Sappho, Anyte, Erinna, Praxilla, Cleobulina.

Women of the highest eloquence (eloquentissimae) praised by the Romans: daughters of Laelius and Hortensius; and Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi.

These three groups are indicative of how Poliziano conceives of female scholars and their participation in the liberal arts. Each group corresponds roughly to one of three fields: philosophy, poetry, and oratory. The exempla included in each group, drawn from

Boccaccio, Pausanias, Athenaeus and the Souda, then reveal the terms under which women are able to participate and gain acclaim within each field.

The first group is composed of Greek women philosophers, goddesses and finally prophets, whom Robin argues were “equated with learned women” during the 69

Renaissance;189 Diotima is emblematic of this equation as a woman who bridges the gap between philosophy and prophecy, famous as both a priestess and a source for Socrates’ knowledge about love in the Symposium. Thus female knowledge of philosophy takes on a divine and prophetic aspect through this association. The second group is comprised of poets, whom Poliziano identifies as Greek, while the third group is Roman and composed of female orators. Greeks then are associated with art, while Romans are associated with oratory, which has a political as well as artistic dimension.

Strangely, only two of these examples, Hortensia and Sappho, are drawn from

Boccaccio’s catalogue. The rest are drawn from a variety of philosophical and historical writings. In the first group, Poliziano mentions two women associated with Plato:

Diotima, of the Symposium, and Aspasia, mentioned in the Menexenus, in which Plato claims that Aspasia instructed Pericles in the art of speaking. Both works were available in Ficino’s Latin translation of 1484, and Ficino’s commentary on the Symposium was published in 1467 or 1469.190 In the context of these works, both women act as a source of knowledge for prominent men, with Diotima instructing Socrates on the philosophy of love and Aspasia instructing both Socrates and Pericles on rhetoric. Neither appears as a character in the work, existing only in the descriptions provided by the interlocutors.

The example of Diotima is in keeping with Poliziano’s references to other divine or divinely inspired women; Aspasia, however, is a rare and somewhat surprising reference. As a foreigner and the mistress of Pericles, she could be seen as proof for the

189 Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 102 n.113.

190 James Hankins and Ada Palmer, The Recovery of Ancient Philosophy in the Renaissance: A Brief Guide (Florence: L.S. Olschki, 2008), 11.

70 claim that rhetorically skilled women are not chaste. It may be the case that Poliziano is only drawing from the Menexenus for this example, in which Aspasia is never explicitly identified as the mistress of Pericles, merely a woman skilled at rhetoric.191 Plutarch’s life of Pericles, however, makes it clear that she has a bad reputation, explaining that she was inspired in her conduct by a certain Thargalia who gained influence by sleeping with powerful men.192 Perhaps Poliziano only expected Fedele to be familiar with the Aspasia of the Menexenus, though he himself produced an edition of Plutarch’s Eroticus, and was presumably familiar with the Parallel Lives as well.

The Pythagorean women would have been known in the Renaissance through

Diogenes Laertius, who reports several sayings of Theano, wife of Pythagoras.193 He attributes to her the statement that “a woman should take off her modesty with her clothes” when she goes to her husband, and put both back on when she leaves him; when asked what clothes, she replies, “the ones that make you a woman.”194 According to

Diogenes she also wrote that a woman is immediately pure after intercourse with her husband, but never pure again after intercourse with another man. Plutarch also reports that when a man admired Theano’s arm at a dinner party, she replied that it was not

191 Plat. Menex. 235e.

192 Plut. Per. 24

193 For more on Renaissance sources for the Pythagoreans, see Hankins and Palmer, The Recovery of Ancient Philosophy, 49-51.

194 D. L. 8.1.42: ἀλλὰ καί φασιν αὐτὴν ἐρωτηθεῖσαν ποσταία γυνὴ ἀπ᾽ ἀνδρὸς καθαρεύει, φάναι, "ἀπὸ μὲν τοῦ ἰδίου παραχρῆμα, ἀπὸ δὲ τοῦ ἀλλοτρίου οὐδέποτε." τῇ δὲ πρὸς τὸν ἴδιον ἄνδρα μελλούσῃ πορεύεσθαι παρῄνει ἅμα τοῖς ἐνδύμασι καὶ τὴν αἰσχύνην ἀποτίθεσθαι, ἀνισταμένην τε πάλιν ἅμ᾽ αὐτοῖσιν. ἀναλαμβάνειν. ἐρωτηθεῖσα, "ποῖα;" ἔφη, "ταῦτα δι᾽ ἃ γυνὴ κέκλημαι." 71 public property;195 he also repeats the saying about women’s ritual purity. Diogenes also includes in the life Pythagoras’ daughter, Damo, whom he credits with the preservation of her father’s work.

A life of Pythagoras by Iamblichus (245-325 CE) was also available in the

Renaissance.196 Iamblichus lists 17 women among Pythagoras’ disciples. Of these,

Pomeroy notes that most are identified as wives or relatives of male Pythagoreans, with some entries containing no information beyond the woman’s name and that of her husband, brother or father— as is the case with Philtys, Occelo, Eccelo, Cheilonis.197

Other women are distinguished for their conduct in brief anecdotes. For instance, when the Crotonian women sought the advice of Theano (wife of Brotinus, another

Pythagorean) about their philandering husbands, she convinced Pythagoras to give an oration that convinced the Crotonian men not to stray from their wives.198 He also claims that this Theano, rather than Pythagoras’ wife, is the author of the statement regarding ritual purity. A certain Timycha was tortured while pregnant and reportedly bit off her own tongue rather than reveal the secrets of the Pythagoreans to the tyrant of Syracuse.199

195 Plut. Conjug. 31: ἡ Θεανὼ παρέφηνε τὴν χεῖρα περιβαλλομένη τὸ ἱμάτιον. εἰπόντος δέ τινος ‘καλὸς ὁ πῆχυς,’ ‘ἀλλ᾽ οὐ δημόσιος’ ἔφη.

196 Hankins and Palmer, The Recovery of Ancient Philosophy, 41.

197 Sarah B. Pomeroy, Pythagorean Women: A Social History (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2013), 1.

198 Thomas Taylor, ed, Iamblichus' Life of Pythagoras, Or, Pythagoric Life: Accompanied by Fragments of the Ethical Writings of Certain Pythagoreans in the Doric Dialect and a Collection of Pythagoric Sentences from Stobaeus and Others (London: J.M. Watkins, 1818), 71.

199 Ibid., 101-102. 72

The women in the first group are distinguished primarily for their services to men, whether as teachers (Diotima and Aspasia) or as guardians of male intellectual property

(Theano, wife of Pythagoras, and Timycha). Only Theano, wife of Brotinus, acts in service of women, and she does so by influencing her husband. Their participation in the philosophical schools is facilitated by male relatives or benefactors; their voices and knowledge are transmitted through male authors; and when their words are reported, they are very often placed in the mouths of men. Neither Diotima nor Aspasia actually speaks; instead, the interlocutors report their speech back to their male audience. Female action, especially speech, requires male mediation, and sometimes even several layers of it. Thus these women are insulated from the problem of the open mouth/ open womb association.

The Sibyls and prophetesses, on the other hand, display the opposite phenomenon. Their words are inspired by the gods, usually Apollo; in this case male speech finds a voice through a female conduit. These women, then, are also acting on behalf of men. It is perfectly acceptable for women to act in this capacity in other examples as well; Damo, daughter of Pythagoras, plays a similar role when she preserves the works of her father for posterity.

The first group of women is therefore united by the theme of transmission: whenever possible, female speech and action should be transmitted by a male mediator. If absolutely necessary, however, male speech and action can be carried out by a female mediator, who is shielded from criticism by necessity, and the fact that her speech and actions can be traced back to a male author.

The female poets of the second group are somewhat more obscure. Robin states simply that this list is “standard in the Renaissance.”200 Many of them are probably drawn from the Souda, which was translated into Latin as early as the thirteenth century and published in Greek by the Aldine press in 1514.201 There are entries for four of these poets in the Souda: Telesilla, c. 494 B.C.E., who defended Argos from the Spartans with a company of armed women; 202 Corinna, who defeated Pindar five times in competition;203 Sappho, who is credited here with discovering the plectrum;204 and

Erinna, the friend of Sappho who is named as the author of the poem The Distaff.205

Many of these women are also named in other sources available to Poliziano. Pausanias tells of a stele inscribed with an image of Telesilla casting aside her songs to put on the helmet of war, and comments on her renown among women.206 Pausanias also comments on Corinna, claiming that her victories were due to the easy dialect she used, as well as her beauty.207 Only Sappho, however, earns an entry in Boccaccio’s catalogue. Boccaccio claims that she played and recited verses difficult even for a man, and that she was inspired by an unrequited love to compose verses in a new meter named “Sapphic” after

200 Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 102 n 113.

201Hankins and Palmer, The Recovery of Renaissance Philosophy, 67.

202 Suda T260.

203 Suda K2087.

204 Suda Σ107.

205Suda H521.

206 Pausanias 2.20.8.

207Pausanias 9.22.3.

74 her.208 The women not named in the Souda were probably familiar from Pausanias and other compilers or historians. Pausanias identifies Anyte as a poetess who helps cure a man of blindness,209 and Athenaeus (2nd century) comments on a Praxilla of Sikyon, famous for writing drinking songs (scolia).210 Finally, Cleobulina, daughter of Cleobulus, is mentioned by Athenaeus as the author of riddles.211

These scraps of biography suggest that the women listed under the category of

“poetesses” are also notable for another quality: excelling in fields usually dominated by men, and in the absence of any male mediator. Unlike the philosophical and prophetic women, these poets are recognized for their own words and actions, and according to

Poliziano, individually memorialized on Greek monuments. Poetry, then, is a field in which women can excel in their own right, without remaining in the shadow of their husbands, teachers, and students, as confirmed by Corinna’s defeat of Pindar and

Telesilla’s praiseworthy defense of Argos.

The final group consists of women skilled in oratory: Hortensia, whose entry in

Boccaccio has already been described, Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi, and Laelia, the daughter of Gaius Laelius. All three of these women are mentioned by Quintilian in the same section of his Institutio Oratoria:

in parentibus vero quam plurimum esse eruditionis optaverim, nec de patribus tantum loquor. nam Gracchorum eloquentiae multum contulisse accepimus

208 Boccaccio and Brown, Famous Women, 193-195.

209 Pausanias 10.38.13.

210 Athen. Deip. 15.694. See also Jane McIntosh Snyder, The Woman and the Lyre Women Writers in Classical Greece and Rome (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1989), 55.

211 Athen. Deip. 10.448B. 75

Corneliam matrem, cuius doctissimus sermo in posteros quoque est epistolis traditus: et Laelia C. filia reddidisse in loquendo paternam elegantiam dicitur, et Hortensiae Q. filiae oratio apud Triumviros habita legitur non tantum in sexus honorem.212

In regards to parents, I would prefer that they have as much learning as possible, and I am not only referring to fathers. For we know that much of the eloquence of the Gracchi can be attributed to their mother Cornelia, whose most learned speech has been handed down to posterity through her letters, while Laelia, daughter of Gaius, is said to have carried on her father’s elegance in speaking. Finally the speech made by Hortensia, daughter of Quintus, before the triumvirs is read not merely out of respect for her sex.

The women in this group are therefore consistent with the humanist attitude towards the education of their wives and daughters: their erudition is a credit to their families, especially their fathers, and furthermore ensures that their children will live up to the acclaim of their parents. The three groups of women laid out by Poliziano thus prescribe the method of participation for women in each field. In philosophy, women remain in the background, speaking and acting through men; in poetry, women are famous in their own right; and in oratory, they act as agents for their fathers and examples for their children.

As for Cassandra’s place among these women, and the women of her time,

Poliziano finds her entirely exceptional. She surpasses not only the ancient women, but also the women of her own time; her conduct is so outstanding as to change his opinion on the nature of woman as a whole:

Scimus…nec cum sexum fuisse a natura tarditatis, aut hebetudinis damnatum.213

We know that your sex has not been damned by nature either to sloth or stupidity.

212 Quint. Inst. Orat. I.i.6.

213 Fedele, Epistolae, 155-156.

Much of Poliziano’s praise is grounded in this notion, despite his assertion that he knows it to be false. Poliziano compares women to slaves, who have also been praised in literature through the ages despite their inferior status; finds Fedele’s attempts to master literature miraculous compared to the usual activities of women; and comments that her letters are subtiles, acutas, elegantes…et quamquam puellari quadam gratia, virginali quadam simplicitate,214 “subtle, wise, and elegant, though written with a particular maidenly grace, a certain girlish simplicity.” Thus Fedele excels in spite of being a woman, as Poliziano himself lays out later in his letter:

Non sexus animo, non animus pudori, non ingenio pudor officiat.215

Your sex does not impede your spirit, nor your mind your chastity, nor your chastity your talent.

Poliziano’s statement neatly summarizes the contradictions inherent in Cassandra’s being: a woman who is able to remain feminine and chaste while mastering the liberal arts. For Poliziano, Cassandra is notable first for traversing the boundaries between these categories, and second for the actual content of her work. It is perhaps for this reason that

Poliziano, and most other correspondents, do not engage with Fedele on specific topics, focusing their attention on the miracle of her very existence as a female scholar.

The letters of Queen Isabella, Fedele, and Poliziano reveal the ambiguous nature of praise and the potentially damaging effects of cataloguing women. Isabella’s use of praise and exempla in her invitation is an attempt to create an active, living collection of learned women in her court, challenging the limitations usually placed on female scholars

214Fedele, Epistolae, 156.

215Ibid., 157. 77 after they reach the age of marriage; as one of the most elite women in Europe, she has the unique opportunity to allow women to choose scholarship as a profession. Fedele, however, in her letter to Queen Beatrice uses examples drawn from Boccaccio to enforce a normative view of female speech and action in which women, who become exceptional chiefly by taking on masculine pursuits and qualities. Poliziano’s exempla provide a more complicated view of women’s roles in philosophy, poetry and oratory, but ultimately isolate Fedele from the real scholarly community that she hopes to join. By portraying her as superhuman, he avoids acknowledging her as a peer, a fate that many female humanists experienced.

The Letters: Fedele on Philosophy

It is perhaps for this reason that Fedele does not often attempt to engage her correspondents in philosophical discussion. Rather, she peppers her letters and orations with paraphrased sayings attributed to ancient philosophers as a way of lending gravitas to her writing. The importance of philosophy to Fedele then lies not in any one school’s system of ideas, but in the authority of the masters. There are at least two letters of consolation and one oration in which Fedele specifically mentions certain philosophers and their doctrines; from these it is clear that Fedele was familiar with the basic traditions of Epicurus, Plato, and Artistotle, among others. She tends to draw, however, from a small selection of favorite paraphrases and ideas. She does not align herself with any one school or engage very deeply with any of the sayings, as a close reading of these three letters reveals.

The first letter considered here was written to King Ferdinand of Spain on the death of his son. This letter is dated by Tomasini to 1492; 216 however, there are problems with this date. Juan, the son of Ferdinand and the heir to his throne, did not die until October of 1497,217 and I know of no other possibility for the identity of the deceased son; Fedele writes in addition that Ferdinand’s son “died by an irrational animal,” “ab animali irrationali oppressus,” which further confuses the issue, as Juan died of illness. Either date is possible for Fedele’s timeline, as her marriage and subsequent hiatus from writing occurred in 1497 or 1499.

These issues aside, the letter is a formulaic consolation, opening with an apology for the audacity of writing to King Ferdinand and the consoling him with sayings of Plato and Epicurus, mingled with generic statements about the nature of life and death. Fedele comments first on Epicurus in this letter:

Unde merito Epicurum veritatem attigisse fateamur beatitudinem nullo pacto in hoc seculo reperiri posse asserentem. O praeclarissimam sententiam, natura enim est mortali corruptioni subiecta.218

Whence we confess that Epicurus worthily touched upon the truth when he asserted that happiness cannot be found in any way in this age. O what a brilliant thought, for nature is subject to mortal corruption.

The origin of the first saying is unclear; the kuriai doxai contain nothing similar, nor do the letters quoted by Diogenes Laertius.219 The second, however, regarding the mortality

216 Fedele, Epistolae, 70-75.

217 Cristina Griffiths, Legitimizing the Queen: Propaganda and Ideology in the Reign of Isabel I of Castile (Lewisburg: Bucknell University Press, 2011), 25.

218 Fedele, Epistolae, 71.

79 of nature, is perhaps a reference to atomism; Lucretius specifically describes in Book 2

(1116-1121) how nothing in nature lasts forever.220 Fedele uses the authority of these sayings to encourage her correspondent to reign in his grief, and then turns to a tactic reminiscent once more of Lucretius. Fedele argues that everyone is subject to death by pointing out the mortality of great figures (Xerxes, Pompey, Caesar), much as Lucretius does in Book III.1027.

Fedele then makes a reference to Plato, attributing to him the saying: aut pulchre vivere, aut pulchre mori debemus, “we should either live beautifully or die beautifully,”221 which she also cites as her personal motto in another letter.222 The quotation has no direct corollary in the works of Plato that I have found, but the Apology

(esp. 38e)223 and Phaedo (esp. 62a)224 echo the general idea of a good death as a better option than a bad life. Fedele would have had access to Latin translations of both— Bruni had completed a translation of the Phaedo by 1405, and released a collection of his

219 Both would have been available in a Latin translation by Traversari (1386-1439). See also Jill Kraye, “The Revival of Hellenistic Philosophies,” in The Cambridge Companion to Renaissance Philosophy, ed. James Hankins, 102-106 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007).

220 donique ad extremum crescendi perfica finem omnia perduxit rerum natura creatrix; ut fit ubi nihilo iam plus est quod datur intra vitalis venas quam quod fluit atque recedit. omnibus hic aetas debet consistere rebus, hic natura suis refrenat viribus auctum.

221Fedele, Epistolae, 74.

222 To Francesco Gonzaga, marquis of Mantua; in Fedele, Epistolae, 1-3.

223 ἀλλὰ πολὺ μᾶλλον αἱροῦμαι ὧδε ἀπολογησάμενος τεθνάναι ἢ ἐκείνως ζῆν (but I would very much rather die after making such a defense than live after making another one).

224 ἔστιν ὅτε καὶ οἷς βέλτιον ὂν τεθνάναι ἢ ζῆν, (There are some also for whom it is a better thing to die than to live).

80 translations, including the Apology, by 1427.225 The language that most directly parallels

Fedele’s Latin can be found in the letter of Epicurus to Menoeceus: …εἶναι μελέτην τοῦ

καλῶς ζῆν καὶ τοῦ καλῶς ἀποθνήσκειν, “it is of concern both to live beautifully and die beautifully,” but Epicurus does not attribute the saying to any one philosopher, and in fact ridicules the idea.226

This philosophical content is framed by Fedele’s use of the diminutive in her opening and closing. She is a femella, little woman, at the beginning of the letter, and a servula, little slave girl (as Robin notes), in her closing. She does not portray herself as a member or practitioner of any of these philosophical schools; rather she is a mouthpiece for their wisdom. Unlike Cereta, who makes it clear that she herself is trying to read and understand the philosophers, Fedele reports their words impersonally. She uses the royal

“we” to obscure herself when referencing Epicurus (fateamur); and reports the words of an anonymous poet using the third person: dixit quidam Poeta… “A certain poet said…”

Her introduction of Plato is even more telling: Teste enim Platone… “With Plato as a witness…” If Plato is the witness, Fedele is merely the court reporter, reading back his words for others to judge. She is merely a conduit for transmission, not a participant in the life of the text.

This trend continues through the other philosophical letters. In a second letter consolation, written to Peter of Aragon on the death of his son, she refers to the Phaedo:

Nonne Phaedo se mortem optare asserebat; cum in hac dissolutione perpetuitate perfrui poterat?227

225 See James Hankins, Plato in the Italian Renaissance (Leiden: Brill, 1990), 40 and 66.

226 Diog. Laert. X.126.

Did not Phaedo say that [Socrates] wished to die, since by this end he could enjoy immortality?

It is a very general reference; as Robin notes, this idea appears throughout the entire dialogue. Fedele uses it to argue that the son of the bereaved has also attained immortality by his death, and does not develop the themes of the Phaedo further. Robin also notes that

Fedele turns to several examples of “the Stoic facing of death,” including Anaxagoras,

Brutus and Cato.228 In this way she urges the bereaved to find comfort in philosophy.

Fedele’s oration for Bertuccio Lamberti229 also contains several philosophical references. She writes in the introduction to her praise of Bertuccio,

Desumpsi itaque mihi tripartitam laudandi materiam a Marco Tullio, Platone, ac Peripateticis traditam, quippe qui veram laudem a bonis animae, corporis, et iis quae philosophi quidam non ignobiles fortunae esse crediderunt, proficisci arbitrati sunt.230

Thus I have taken up for myself the tripartite makeup of praise, handed down by Cicero, Plato, and the Peripatetics, men who think that true praise comes from the goods of the mind, the body, and from those things which the philosophers, who are certainly not lowly, believe are in the possession of Fortune.

This is one of very few moments where Fedele portrays herself as an active participant in any of the philosophical schools. The three categories are certainly drawn from Plato, and can be found in Diogenes Laertius’ summary of Platonic doctrine.231 Fedele uses these

227Fedele, Epistolae, 55. See also Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 62n.36.

228 Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 62n.37.

229 Fedele, Epistolae, 193-201.

230 Ibid., 194-195.

231 Diog. Laert. III. 81: Τῶν ἀγαθῶν ἄρα τρία εἴδη ἐστί: τὰ μὲν ἐν ψυχῇ, τὰ δὲ ἐν σώματι, τὰ δὲ ἐκτός, “There are three kinds of good things: those of the mind, those of the body, and those that are external.”

82 categories to praise her cousin, giving the most weight to intellectual pursuits, in particular Philosophy, as it shows the way to a good life and keeps humans from error.232

This theme continues throughout the oration; Fedele also includes references to Plato’s

Republic, in which Plato argues that great cities should be ruled by philosophers, as

Fedele explains. Following her pattern of referencing a select few texts, she makes the same reference to the Republic in a later oration to the Venetian Senate.233

Fedele then explores the origins of philosophy, mentioning Atlas, Orpheus,

Vulcan, Zoroaster, and others as possible sources, and divides the study into its three branches: “rationalem, moralem, naturalemque,” rational, moral and natural philosophy,234 echoing the divisions laid out by Seneca in his letters: “Many and great authors say that the three parts of philosophy are: moral, natural and rational,”

(Philosophiae tres partes esse dixerunt et maximi et plurimi auctores: moralem, naturalem, rationalem).235

Overall, the references in these works suggest a basic familiarity with Plato’s

Republic and Phaedo, the sayings of Epicurus, and probably some works of Aristotle and

Cicero, though it is difficult to say which. The repetition of some references to Plato in the letters and orations suggests that Fedele had a limited selection of favorites in mind while writing. The formal nature of the letters and orations does not allow space for much

232Fedele, Epistolae, 198-199.

233 Ibid., 201-207. For the dating of this speech, see Robin and Fedele, Letters and Orations, 165 n.20.

234 Fedele, Epsitolae, 199.

235 Sen. Ep. 89.9; the same division is described in letter 88.24. Cicero also uses a similar division in de Orat. 1.68: philosophia in tris partis est tributa, in naturae obscuritatem, in disserendi subtilitatem, in vitam atque mores. 83 more depth, but one might expect a larger variety of references given Fedele’s excellent education in the Classics.

Her use of the diminutive to introduce herself, juxtaposed with the impersonal and unquestioning introduction of quotations from great Classical philosophers, preclude in most instances any sense of participation in the schools. In this way ancient philosophy is static in the works of Fedele. It is valuable as a gold mine of sententiae, which Fedele uses in the same context (presumably) in which they were written— here, to stave off the fear and sadness of death. As will be seen, other female humanists took ancient philosophy further, identifying themselves as practitioners or loose adherents to the various schools. Fedele rarely does this, limited by a desire to conform to the conservatism of the Venetian humanist movement.

CHAPTER 3: LAURA NOVIOR ALTERIOR

LAURA CERETA OF BRESCIA (1469-99)

The works of Laura Cereta of Brescia make for a stark contrast to those of her contemporary Cassandra Fedele. Though both women were highly educated, Cereta understood her Classical sources on a deeper level than Fedele, engaging with the ideas of the ancient philosophers in new contexts, rather than calling upon their words as a source of authority. Where Fedele is conservative, formal, and impersonal, Cereta is innovative, irreverent, and candid; where Fedele obscures herself behind the abstract type of the learned woman, Cereta uses the tradition of the catalogue as evidence that all women have the potential to be intellectual.

Cereta can be called feminist in this sense; though sometimes tinged with the dominant beliefs of the day, her works argue consistently for the intellectual equality of men and women. Cereta does refer occasionally to the weakness of her sex, often in connection with Eve’s original sin, but it seems that these moments are motivated more by rhetorical strategy (such as the use of modesty tropes to gain the sympathy of the audience) than by true belief. Robin in fact identifies five salient feminist themes in

Cereta’s writings, which may sound familiar to students of second- and even third-wave feminism. I summarize these points here:

1. Marriage relegates women to servitude and impedes personal development. 2. Emotions, in addition to reason and intellect, are a worthy subject for serious literature. 3. Gender constructions must be reconsidered. 4. Women can and should form their own intellectual communities apart from men. 5. Women can and should defy the public/private dichotomy in the pursuit of their own studies. 236

These themes, evident throughout Cereta’s letters, also underscore the content of her dialogue. This chapter will consider how these themes come into play in Cereta’s construction of literary, philosophical and epistolary voices, and how they influence her relationship to the philosophical schools and the literature they produced.

The most overt statements regarding women and exceptionality occur in Cereta’s letter to Bibolo Sempronio (perhaps a fictional character, perhaps a nickname for an unknown correspondent) of 1488. The letter takes the form of an invective against those who would demean the accomplishments of female scholars, and argues for the intellectual equality of men and women while creating a catalogue of women designed to combat the kind of exceptionality that surrounded her contemporary Cassandra Fedele, opening with this accusation:

Per compita et palam non mirari solum, sed dolere te asseris, quod inauditum illud prae me ferre dicar ingenium…quasi videare ex argumento concludere similem ad nostro usque dies foeminam fuisse raris gentibus visam.237

236 Robin, Laura Cereta (1469-1499), 85.

237 Laura Cereta and Giacomo Filippo Tomasini, ed, Laurae Ceretae Brixiensis Epistolae Jamprimum e MS. in Lucem Productae a Jacobo Philippo Tomasino, Qui Ejus Vitam et Notas Addidit (Patavii: Sardi, 1640), 187.

You say publicly and openly that you are not only amazed but pained that I am said to have this unheard of intellect…you seem to conclude from the evidence that a similar woman has rarely been seen through the ages among the peoples of the world.

This kind of rhetoric is often presented as praise, but Cereta is wise to his tactics, for philosophy has opened her eyes:

Videt, si nescis, animo sapiens, et in subeundam animadvertentiam fenestrat sibi ratione vias.238

In case you do not know, the wise person sees with her mind, and through reason opens for herself paths to the achievement of awareness.

Cereta conceives of herself as a sapiens, connecting to the ancient tradition of a word that is usually assumed to be masculine. Cereta emphasizes elsewhere in the letter, however, that the path to wisdom is open to everyone—not just to men, and not just to those who are especially talented. She states,

Donavit satis omnes Natura dotibus suis. Omnibus optionis suae portas aperuit.239

Nature has sufficiently bestowed her gifts upon everyone. She has opened the gates of choice to all.

For Cereta, both men and women were endowed with intellectual potential, with any visible discrepancy explained by individual choice. Some women do not pursue studies, and are even discouraged from doing so; therefore, they lack education by choice or happenstance, not by nature. Cereta expands on these ideas in another letter to one

Lucilia Vernacula, perhaps also fictional, a work constituting an invective against women who speak ill of other women. Cereta’s own educational opportunities were hard-won,

238 Cereta, Epistolae, 188.

239 Ibid., 192-193.

87 perhaps inspiring her to emphasize that virtue and learning are not to be taken for granted. She proclaims the value of studia, labores and vigilia, emphasizing that a woman’s place in the world is determined by her own efforts, not by her nature. 240 That is not to say that Cereta found men and women entirely the same by nature; elsewhere she writes that women are complicit in Eve’s sin, and physically weaker,241 but it seems that this did not preclude Cereta from arguing for women’s intellectual equality.

Cereta does so in her letter to Sempronio by proving that learned women are in fact not rare, using a catalogue of women drawn primarily from Boccaccio, though with some significant alterations. In doing so, she emphasizes that these women became extraordinary by taking advantage of their own ingenium— inborn talent; not by overcoming feminine weakness, and certainly not by chance or circumstance. By framing her exempla this way, Cereta circumvents one of the great paradoxes of the catalogue of women. While the act of compilation is often cited as a sign of equality in that it asserts women’s presence and participation,242 in some ways, the creation of that separate space and a separate standard for women reinforces women’s status as outsiders who need to be invited in. Cereta instead presumes that all women belong in this space from the beginning, explaining that women who pursue other interests— clothes, jewelry, little pet

240 Ibid., 122-125.

241 Ibid., 66-71. Letter to Agostino Emilio, February 1487.

242 The phenomenon can even be seen occurring today in Mitt Romney’s “binders full of women” gaffe, in which Romney claimed to rectify sexist hiring practices by demanding what were essentially catalogues of qualified women. The New Yorker explained why this approach is problematic: “One got the sense of Mitt Romney coming from a place where women were generally in the other room, waiting to be invited in.” Amy Davidson, "Mitt’s Binders and the Missing Women.” The New Yorker, October 17, 2012. Accessed December 4, 2014. < http://www.newyorker.com/news/daily-comment/mitts-binders-and-the-missing- women>.

88 dogs— leave that circle by choice. Furthermore, where Fedele and her correspondents use exempla in order to place contemporary learned women onto an even higher pedestal,

Cereta uses her catalogue to prove precisely the opposite point: I am not exceptional, just a continuation of a movement that has existed for centuries, an inheritor of a long- standing tradition.

Cereta references approximately twenty women for this purpose, from Sappho to

Cassandra Fedele (see Table 1). As a group, these exempla display several trends that contribute to Cereta’s undermining of the model of exceptionality. First, and most importantly, she provides her own descriptions for each of the women, rather than relying on the reader to fill in the blanks based on his or her knowledge of Boccaccio, Livy,

Plutarch, etc., allowing her to control the message she is sending by including each woman in her catalogue. Second, Cereta chooses women active in multiple spheres: language, literature, politics, rhetoric and oratory, rather than limiting her women to a few categories as Fedele, who uses chastity and rhetorical skill as the main criteria.

Finally, within each sphere, we find women who are remarkable not for their actions, but for their ingenium, their ability to produce new texts, invent new alphabets, etc.

Cereta’s women are presented roughly according to their area of expertise, the first group being skilled in language and prophecy, which seem to be linked for Cereta, perhaps because the Sibyls tend to speak in riddles or tongues; the second group is then comprised of women who are skilled in rhetoric. Rather than present Cereta’s entire catalogue of women, I will focus only on a few instances where Cereta deviates from her source material by adding or suppressing biographical details, or adding women who are

not present in Boccaccio’s catalogue: Sabba, Zenobia, Phyliasia and Lastheneia,

Leontium, and Semiamira, whose names are marked by an asterisk (*) in Table 1.

Sabba (Sheba/Nicaula)* Pyromantia Sempronia Amalthea (Almathea) Pallas Hortensia Eriphila (Herophile) Phyliasia and Lasthenia* Cornificia Nicostrata (Carmenta) Sappho Tulliola and Terentia Isis Leontium* Cornelia Zenobia* Proba Nicolosa and Isotta Manto Semiamira (Symiamira)* Cassandra Fedele Table 1: Cereta's Women

Sabba, AKA Nicaula or Sheba, the Queen of Ethiopia, appears in Boccaccio’s

catalogue, and in the Bible, as a Queen who presents riddles to test King Solomon; in

Cereta’s version, it is the other way around: Sabba is the one to solve Solomon’s riddles,

giving her the main focus in the story. Cereta identifies Zenobia as a learned Egyptian

woman— but she adds that she wrote histories of neighboring peoples, a detail perhaps

drawn from a source outside of Boccaccio: the Historia Augusta: “she was so well-versed

in the history of Alexandria and the East that she is said to have written an epitome”

(historiae Alexandrinae atque orientalis ita perita ut eam epitomasse dicatur).243 Phyliasia

and Lastheneia, however, are something of a mystery. Diogenes Laertius mentions a

243 Historia Augusta III.30.22.

90 student of Plato called Lastheneia in his life of Plato;244 but the identity of Phyliasia remains a mystery. Cereta states only that the pair “deceived the students of Plato, who tied themselves into knots over the tricky sophistries of their arguments,” (quae totiens captiosis argumentorum cavillationibus, nodosos Platonis delusere discipolos.)245

Cereta praises Leontium for speaking out against Theophrastus. This is another case in which Cereta deviates from Boccaccio, who tells us that Leontium would have been even more famous if she had preserved her honor (pudicitia, LX.1), rather than becoming a courtesan, and wonders at the fame of her invective, which he has not seen—

Though he ventures to say, while “we cannot say that the work was a trifle or showed lack of ability, it is most certainly proof of an envious mind” (LX.2), written “out of jealousy (invidia) or feminine rashness (temeritas).” As Cereta herself is writing an invective, it is no surprise that she portrays Leontium’s work in such a positive light.

We then move to the women skilled at speaking. The first is Semiamira, whom some have taken as a misspelling of Semiramis, Queen of the Assyrians; but something does not fit here. Boccaccio reports that Semiramis was indeed a great leader, but then credits her with, among other things, the invention of the chastity belt and the seduction of her own son (II.14). However, there is also a “Symiamira” in Boccaccio’s account who better fits the description Cereta gives: a Greek woman who spoke before the Roman law courts

(XCIX). Still, as with Leontium, Cereta suppresses the other details of Boccaccio’s biography, such as her nickname, “Varia,” earned for copulating with various men.

244 D. L. 3.46.

245 Cereta, Epistolae, 190.

Cereta completes her catalogue with a clever nod to Cicero, using a paralipsis to introduce Tulliola and Terentia, borrowing one of the author’s favorite rhetorical devices.

This extensive catalogue serves to prove Cereta’s initial points: first, that learned women are not the exception, and second, that they possess the same ingenium that

Cereta does, an inborn talent which is available to both sexes in equal measure. In this way, Cereta’s catalogue constitutes an intervention in the genre, a shift away from the use of the catalogue as a way of isolating the learned woman from her peers, and relegating her to the space of mythology. Furthermore, the range of talents—and the way in which those talents are employed— are a significant departure from the works of Boccaccio and

Fedele, who find the most praise for exceptional women acting in extreme circumstances.

Cereta’s women, in contrast, write their own histories, rule countries and argue openly with men.

Cereta’s list thus comes to resemble not Boccaccio’s catalogue, but rather another humanist genre, as Robin has argued:

This is Cereta’s own variation on the humanist commonplace respublica litterarum (republic of letters), a metaphor for the notion that there is an imaginary city of men who share a commitment to the study of literature…Thus there is not only a lineage (generositas) of learned women to be taken into account, but a women’s respublica.246

Cereta’s muliebris respublica, as she calls it in the letter’s epilogue, functions quite differently from Fedele’s cataloguing of women. Fedele hides behind the long tradition of learned women, presenting herself as a type within, rather than a practitioner of, ancient knowledge and philosophy. Cereta, in contrast, presents herself as a new branch of the

246 Robin, Laura Cereta, 74.

92 tradition, an active participant in her own life and learning; and furthermore demonstrates that she is not exceptional in this regard.

This identity was sometimes at odds with Renaissance expectations for women; this is perhaps why Cereta often draws on Renaissance conceptions of the female life- cycle in order to reframe her intellectual pursuits. S.S. Menchi’s study of artistic representations of the ages of woman and laws regarding marriage and dress finds that

Renaissance Italians largely conceived of a woman’s life in terms of three divisions centered around the advent of puberty, the period of marriage and motherhood, and finally old age or widowhood, with emphasis on the ages of roughly twelve, twenty-five and forty.247 Menchi suggests further that women “internalized the three-stage calendar…on the basis of which they constructed and evaluated their own lives.”248 In this system, then, emphasis is placed on the anticipation of transition, thus subordinating the content of a woman’s inner life to her progress through these external milestones.249

This is certainly evident in the way that Cereta describes the progress of her own life, both in terms of these traditional female milestones and in terms of her progress as a scholar. Her marriage was the first moment of transition, and it presented many challenges to Cereta’s life as a scholar. Her letter to Sigismondo de Bucci provides insight into Cereta’s life as a newly married woman balancing the pursuit of her personal studies with her duties as a wife and the care of her father’s affairs. Continuing in the

247 See S.S. Menchi, The Girl and the Hourglass, 58-74.

248 Ibid., 69.

249 Ibid., 71.

93 tradition of her early education, Cereta often sacrificed sleep to meet all her obligations.

Calling herself a “thief of time,” (furatrix horarum) Cereta describes using the night hours for her own writing, and the early dawn for embroidering. Cereta seems to have connected her own personal frustrations with larger societal expectations for women. In a letter to Pietro Zecchi,250 she finds fault with the demands that husbands make on women, comparing wives to pets seeking praise from an owner and describing a life of unquestioning selflessness and drudgery.

Cereta’s response to this was to re-contextualize her more mundane work within a world of myth and scholarship. To discuss women’s work in such elevated language implies that household tasks require refined knowledge, not merely physical skill; it also suggests that Cereta was able to integrate her studies into daily life, thinking intellectually and critically not only about texts and traditions but also about practical matters. For example, in her letter to Sigismondo de Bucci Cereta gives an extended ekphrasis reminiscent of Ovid’s description of Arachne and Minerva in Book 6 of the

Metamorphoses describing the result of her pre-dawn labors: a shawl of fantastic quality and detail, with purple and gold borders and several species of animals depicted within.

Then Cereta uses the Ciceronian technique of paralipsis within an extended tricolon crescendo to emphasize the difficulty of this task, made easy by her expertise in the textile arts.

250 February 3 1486, designated as letter XVII in Diana Robin and Laura Cereta, Laura Cereta: Collected Letters of a Renaissance Feminist (Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press, 1997), 65-72.

As a newly-married woman, Cereta could have expected to move on quickly to motherhood, the next stage of the female life cycle. Cereta never reached this point, however, nor did any of the women covered here— some perhaps by choice. Cereta’s marriage was cut short after scarcely a year by the death of her husband, accelerating her progress through the stages of life. She writes of this moment bitterly:

Sic unus, infandusque annus me Puellam vidit, Sponsam, Viduam, atque omnibus fortunae bonis orbatam.251

Thus one unspeakable year saw me a girl, wife and widow, and bereft of all good fortune.

With the usual feminine milestones interrupted, Cereta increasingly conceives of her life in terms of scholarly, rather than romantic or reproductive, milestones, focusing on the progress of her animus and the attainment of fame.

In a letter to her cousin Bernardino di Leno, she confesses, “my mind burns for fame, whence the noble hope of being an exemplum for eternity is nourished,” (ardens animus fama, unde ad perpetuitatis exemplum spes generosa nutritur).252 It is here that we see most explicitly Cereta’s desire to join the catalogue of illustrious women presented in her other letters; and it is from these letters that we can understand what Cereta means by the term exemplum. The catalogue of women she presents to Bibolo Sempronio emphasizes a lineage of female ingenium; Cereta’s other letters in turn describe her education and scholarship in terms of reproduction: fertility, birth, breastfeeding. Cereta thus emerges not as another static exemplum, a woman to be emulated, but rather as a

251 Cereta, Epistolae, 66. Letter to Agostino Emilio, 1487.

252 Ibid., 72. Letter to cousin Bernardino di Leno, 1486.

95 new kind of maternal figure, nourishing her future “offspring” with the legacy of her intellect.

Cereta uses several humanist techniques to attain that status. Robin notes that

Cereta often uses “the de rigeur of humanist topoi…the striving for honor and recognition among one’s peers despite one’s self-avowed intellectual shortcomings.”253

For instance, she writes in her letter/prologue to Cardinal Sforza,

Licet tamen pauperior semper essem…tamquam maiora ad se vocaret animus surgens.254

Although I was always rather ill-equipped, still my mind, rising up, called me on to greater things.

She then discusses her growing ingenium, a humanist word drawn from the works of

Cicero, used to describe a natural talent which was usually attributed to men.255

In a letter to her uncle, she traces her family back to Endymion or Atlas (a common genealogical trope of the humanists meant to aggrandize the author) and connects herself to Petrarch’s Laura, hoping to match her in fame as a [Laura] novior alterior. She concludes in the same letter:

Aeternitatis autem usque nunc iacta fundamenta sat arbitror ex illo miratu multorum, quo prima gloriae mihi repositio paratur, velutque omnium sollicito quodam miraculo puella adhuc, et rara forte mulier insurgam.256

253 Robin, Laura Cereta, 38 n. 49.

254 Cereta, Epistolae, 2.

255 See Cicero, De oratore 1.xxiii; and Robin, Laura Cereta, 37. Robin argues here that Cereta’s use of ingenium is subversive, “a means to refute male humanists’ claims of women’s ‘natural inferiority’ to men.”

256 Cereta, Epistolae, 20. Letter to Uncle Ludovico de Leno, 1485.

Now however I think there might be enough of a basis for my immortality in the acclaim of many, by which the first store of glory might be prepared for me, and so that I, up to now a girl, to the worry and wonder of many, might rise up as a truly exceptional woman.

In this passage, Cereta’s transition from puella to mulier is based on public acclaim, rather than private relationships with men. As a humanist scholar, then, Cereta defies the traditional public/private, male/female dichotomy, replacing private feminine milestones with public and masculine pursuits, while using the language of marriage and motherhood to highlight this inversion.

Through the construction of a new kind of female life trajectory, written in terms of traditional milestones, these two identities, woman and scholar, can coexist together.

This technique is further characterized in the same letter to her cousin, cited above, in which she compares herself to an Amazon:

Sed quorum iam extinctum sit nomen Amazonum…revocavi penitus totum animum a foemineis curis ad litterarum amorem, a quibus velut e lacteo quodam ubere adolevit eruditionis meae.257

Since the name of the Amazons is now extinct, I have called back my whole mind from feminine cares to the love of letters, by which, like milk from a teat, my erudition is nourished.

Even as Cereta defines her love of learning as unfeminine— her studies involve turning away from feminine pursuits— she represents the flow of knowledge in terms of breastfeeding, equating the transmission of knowledge with the act of motherhood. This is a common trope in her other letters, in which she speaks of the fertility of her pen258— a rather commonplace metaphor, but one that gains more significance given Cereta’s

257 Ibid., 73, letter to cousin Bernardino di Leno 1486.

258 Ibid., 2, Prologue to Cardinal Maria Sforza. Cereta refer to the foecunditas of her writing.

97 overall use of symbols of motherhood, marriage and fertility in discussions of her studies.

She even refers to her learning as an “impreciabilem dotem…lucrosissimam gemmam,”259 a precious dowry, a most valuable gem, which she has purchased for herself. In short, Cereta defines her love of learning and ambition for fame as unfeminine, while using metaphors involving marriage and childbearing to signal the replacement of these traditionally feminine elements by her studies.

But Cereta’s use of humanist methods and topoi is colored by her awareness of the difficulties inherent in writing and speaking as a woman. Her modesty tropes are often centered on images of girlhood and virginity. For instance, she describes the “blush of modesty,” (rubor honestatis),260 that colors her face while constructing an eloquent appeal to a patron. In her epilogue she again refers to “a blush filling her face with shame from deep in her heart,” (sed suffudit adeo ex alto corde rubor ora pudentia).261 Robin notes that these moments are part of an overall concern for the body not present in the work of male humanists; Cereta is concerned with the nervous trembling of her body, physical exhaustion and of course blushing.262 Cereta’s preoccupation with the physical suggests that female modesty is tied to the body, whereas male modesty centers on the ego. As such, she uses humanist topoi to represent her body as something subject to the

259 Ibid., 74, letter to cousin Bernardino di Leno 1486.

260 Ibid., 2.

261 Ibid., 227.

262 Robin, Laura Cereta, 37.

98 effects of shame and too much physical exertion, thus preventing critics from questioning her chastity.

By framing her work so carefully in terms of the ancient tradition of learned women and contemporary concerns regarding them, Cereta creates a space in which she is free to engage with both men and women on an intellectual level. At the same time, her insistence that all women have the potential to be scholars circumvents the pedestal that so isolated Cassandra Fedele and her work from serious consideration. As a result, unlike

Fedele, who incorporates the ancient schools of philosophy into her work only as a distant source of authority, Cereta is able to apply the ideas she finds in the doctrines of

Skepticism, Epicureanism and Stoicism to new contexts, and to represent herself as a practitioner within a new school of philosophy.

Dialogue on the Funeral of a Donkey

This philosophical engagement is most evident in Cereta’s only non-epistolary work, a Latin dialogue on the funeral of a donkey composed in 1485 or 1486. Cereta appears as the chief interlocutor, speaking before two men as they mourn the loss of their faithful pack animal. Cereta explores several branches of philosophy in her attempts to console her audience while characterizing herself as a modest yet savvy and highly competent speaker. The work is ingenious for its integration of several popular humanist genres; its engagement with Classical philosophy and the work of Apuleius; and above all for featuring a young woman as the chief source of consolation.

Cereta herself, however, apparently viewed the work with some embarrassment.

In 1488, she composed a prologue to her collection of letters in honor of Cardinal

Ascanio Maria Sforza, a potential patron for the young author. In it, she claims that her decision to write the dialogue was a mistake, and one that earned her the envy of her contemporaries. She writes:

et malui favori plebis placere, quam mihi. Sic incitata stimulis famae, sensim in prodigum errorem scripturae carpebar. 263

I preferred to please the goodwill of the plebs rather than myself. Incited in this way by the goad of fame I was gradually pulled into a grave error in my writing.

The error referenced here is hubris, as she describes subsequently in the letter:

Haec una atque humilis oratio multorum sibi conflavit invidiam. Qui livoris dentes tanquam gladios in me, velut trepidantem inter lupos Agnulam…pararunt.

This one dialogue, however humble, stirred up the envy of many, who turned the teeth of envy like swords against me, as I trembled like a lamb among wolves.264

Cereta does not specify what makes her dialogue hubristic, but one can imagine that its irreverence to the genre of the funeral dialogue, its openness to alternative explanations of the soul’s afterlife or lack thereof), and the presence of a female orator might have inspired shocked or indignant responses to the work. Ultimately, though Cereta states here that she does not wish to “have a sword fight” (digladiari) with such people, she often confronts her detractors in the collected letters, as noted above.

Whatever the impact of the work may have been, Cereta’s intent, as she describes in the prologue to her collection, was “to discuss the constancy of philosophy,” (de

263 Cereta, Epistolae, 3-4.

264 Ibid., 4.

100 constantia philosophiae tractare). 265 It is not surprising that Cereta describes her work in this way. Cereta herself was an expert in constantia, persevering through the difficulties of her early studies and the death of her husband, motivated by her love of learning and buoyed by the comfort she took in her readings and writing. Still, the form of Cereta’s discussion of constantia may appear rather bizarre to the casual reader. When viewed, however, within the context of certain literary movements of the Humanist era, it becomes clear that Cereta was engaging with, or perhaps even satirizing, the scholarly trends of her day.

The dialogue has three interlocutors: Cereta herself, Soldus, the bereaved owner of the unfortunate donkey, and Philonacus, the slave boy charged with driving the donkey; and of course Asellus, the donkey. He is not present, but Cereta mentions that they are standing on the site where his body was stripped of its hide, the grounds still showing evidence of his blood, and his possessions (packs, saddles) are hanging around them like spoils from the trees. It is a pathetic scene reminiscent of Aeneid XI, in which

Aeneas dresses an oak tree with the gear of Mezentius, setting an absurd tone for the dialogue by contrasting the humble donkey with a fallen war hero.

Cereta opens her dialogue by appealing to the rustic muses, musas agrestes (line

3), recalling Eclogue VI (agrestem tenui meditabor arundine Musam);266 in fact, this line comes after Tityrus states that he will not be singing about war, interesting given a setting so reminiscent of the display of war spoils. The genre of pastoral figures heavily in the

265 Ibid.

266 Virgil, Ecl. VI.8.

101 rest of the introduction; Cereta calls upon the deos nemorum “gods of the groves,” and invites her fellow interlocutors to enter into a call and response:

Incipe…dic…respondebimus alteri…cantabimus armentales heroas…tange… ex sarmento detrito citherulam.267

Begin, speak, we will respond in turn, we will sing of the rustic heroes. Strike the cithara of worn out brushwood…

The references to song are a bit strange given that Cereta is not writing poetry; she is, however, discussing the death of a pack animal with rustic characters, an unusual situation demanding a different setting than a more traditional dialogue.

The dialogue, of course, was a popular format in the humanist era: one has only to look to Petrarch’s Secretum, Bruni’s Dialogi, Valla’s De uero falsoque bono and the works of Pontano for other examples. These works are inspired in part by the dialogues and letters of Cicero and Seneca and the satires of Lucian.268 Often a debate was staged in which one participant played devil’s advocate; but the outcome was not always conclusive. As Marsh puts it,

Unlike the Ciceronian model, the humanist dialogue intentionally seeks to create ambiguities…which demonstrate both the range of rhetorical inquiry and the instability of traditional criteria.269

Cereta’s work fits in with this model, with Cereta offering words of consolation based on the traditions of several philosophical schools and drawing rhetorical strategies from several authors. Cereta’s dialogue ends when she declares the participants consoled,

267 Cereta 33-40.

268 David Marsh, The Quattrocento Dialogue: Classical Tradition and Humanist Innovation (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980).

269 Ibid., 14-15.

102 ostensibly leaving no loose ends; but Cereta’s many references to various philosophical schools, Apuleian allusions, and conflicting reports of the donkey’s death leave many questions unanswered.

The humanists were also fascinated with the genre of consolation, inspired by the works of Cicero, Seneca and Boethius, as well as the pseudo-Ovidian Consolatio ad

Liviam and the letters of Paul.270 Yet the humanist genre of consolation did not merely copy its sources. Instead, the humanists expanded on ancient and Christian traditions of consolation “to include an increasingly secular canon of ills that included not only the familiar tragedies of bereavement, fear of death, and illness, but also those more esoteric

[topics]”271 such as, perhaps, the death of a much loved pack animal. McClure notes also the influence of Platonism on humanist strategies of consolation, often accompanied by explicit attacks on Stoicism. Ficino in particular was influential in this regard, with his model of metaphysical ascendance aided by philosophy. 272

The humanists also tended to draw from a variety of philosophical schools and genres in order to console their intended audiences. Petrarch is emblematic of many of these trends. He portrays himself as a medicus animorum,273 blending “the remedies of the love poet, the consolations of the philosopher, the admonitions of the priest, and the

270 See George W. McClure, Sorrow and Consolation in Italian Humanism (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981).

271 Ibid., 155.

272 Ibid.,, 142.

273 Ibid., 18.

103 salves of the doctor”274 in his treatise De remediis utriusque fortunae (On Remedies for

Good and Ill Fortune). Similarly, McClure identifies in the Secretum “poetic, philosophical, ascetic and confessional models of healing,”275 drawn from Seneca,

Cicero, and Augustine. Petrarch was also active as a consoler in his letters to friends and family; so too was Cereta, who consoles, among other correspondents, her friend Martha

Marcella on the death of her husband.276

This letter, written on the occasion of Martha’s husband’s death, shows an awareness of the trends in Classical and humanist consolation, themes that can be traced through the rhetorical strategies in the dialogue. In this letter, Cereta journeys to the

Underworld to describe the horrors of Dis, noting that she crosses the Lethe without drinking, much like Plato’s figure Er. She relies for the rest of her journey on roughly the same Virgilian descriptions found in her letter to Cassandra Fedele, in which she uses a similar journey to describe the pain of her own husband’s death. The purpose here, however, is to unite with Martha in her grief while encouraging her to move on with her life. The strategies she uses for this purpose recall Seneca’s letters to Marcia and Helvia, and have much in common with the rhetoric used in her earlier work.

Cereta begins the letter by pointing out that she, too, has lost a husband. It is common to provide an exemplum in a letter of consolation, as Seneca does for Marcia by mentioning Cornelia, mother of the murdered Gracchi. In this case, Cereta herself, as a

274 Ibid., 18.

275 Ibid., 29.

276 Cereta, Epistolae, 137-144. Laura Cereta ad Martham Marcellam, de morte Mariti, Consolatoria. /Epist. LVIII. October 8th, 1486. Also found in Vat. 70 and Ven. 60.

104 fellow widow, is the model; but she represents herself, in appropriate Stoic fashion, as one slightly further along the path, not as someone whose journey is complete. She refers throughout the letter to the struggles that she holds in common with Martha, but also shows progress from her initial state of shock, with weeping and tearing of hair, to her current rational, though still mournful, state of mind.

She addresses Martha first with a common motif, asking:

Quid ita, Germana carior, internum dolorem defles amarius? Num moventur humano gemitu Reges inferni? 277

Why then, dear sister, do you mourn bitterly this internal pain? Do you think the kings of the underworld are moved by human tears?

She then discusses her journey to the Underworld, followed by a Stoic meditation on life and death:

Omne vitae spatium278 sit una mortis brevisque vigilia.279

The whole interval of life is one brief vigil of death.

This sentiment is often found in the works of Seneca; letter 24 argues at length that death does not occur in one moment, but rather presides over one’s whole life, as does letter 1, with its proclamation, se cotidie mori,280 “we are dying every day.” As is typical for her,

Cereta does not limit herself to Stoicism in her attempts to console Martha. She also references Epicurus in this letter, presenting virtue as the one source of happiness in order

277 Ibid., 137. This statement echoes that of Anna to Dido (Vergil, Aeneid 4.34): Id cinerem aut Manis credis curare sepultos?

278 Tomasini reads spatiem; I have corrected this to spatium. This phrase, brevis spatium vitae, is found in several Classical texts, including Ovid Met. 3.124.

279 Cereta, Epistolae, 142.

280 Sen. Ep. 1.2.

105 to help Martha find contentment within herself. The letter closes with a nautical metaphor in which Cereta exhorts her correspondent to face the storms of life.

These themes (the blending of various philosophical doctrines, similarities to the consolatory works of Seneca, the use of nautical metaphors) are also present in the dialogue, though the subject matter is drastically different. Cereta in fact faced a unique challenge when writing her own character as the consoler of a male audience and the chief interlocutor in a philosophical dialogue. It was not entirely unheard of for a female figure to offer wisdom or consolation; Boethius in his De consolatione philosophiae personifies philosophy as a woman, while Dante relies on Beatrice in his journey to the higher realms. But these figures are larger-than-life, semi-divine even, and furthermore are written by male authors. Cereta, in contrast, was representing herself, a real woman, as possessing the skills to entertain, console and challenge her all-male “audience,” that is, the other two interlocutors. Her writing style thus evokes humanist modesty tropes, while adapting them to fit her needs as a female speaker—displaying erudition without threatening and thus alienating her audience.

The other great challenge of this dialogue is the presence of the donkey. While the genre of consolation and the format of the funeral dialogue are in keeping with the traditions of humanism, as well as the rest of Cereta’s work, the donkey requires more explanation. J. Bough notes that donkeys in the ancient world “held a conflicting middle ground,”281 being associated with high and low forms of labor and endowed with various religious and ceremonial importance. This trend appears to continue in the Italian

281 Jill Bough, Donkey (London: Reaktion Books, 2011), 60.

106

Renaissance. In his work on Giordano Bruno, N. Ordine compiles a history of the donkey in Classical through 16th-century literature, identifying a similar theme of coincidentia oppositorum in representations of the animal. Such oppositions perhaps peaked in the work of Giordano Bruno, who in his “Eulogy of the Ass” constructs a “holy asinity,” or patient anticipation of a union with God, uninterested in the distractions of study or art.282

This work does postdate Cereta’s, but it perhaps suggests a trajectory for the donkey’s function in literature. In fact, the 16th century would see several works focused on the asinus, such as Cornelius Agrippa’s Ad encomium asini digressio, which again uses the donkey as a model for the “inspired ignorant.”283

Cereta’s work fits very well into this history of the donkey, as her “Asellus” embodies the same “coincidence of opposites,” seen in these later works. N. Ordine has outlined these “antithetical pairings” in his work on Giordano Bruno, the most relevant of which are summarized here with my own additions noted.284

Benefic/demonic: The donkey is associated with fertility, lust and the phallus through association with such figures as Dionysus, Silenus, Midas, Demeter, Priapus and

Cybele, among others. However, the animal also appears in connection with Hades, the

Egyptian god Set, symbol of evil. Demons such as the Empousai285 are often represented with donkey legs. I would add the story of Balaam’s ass, in which God speaks through a

282 Ordine, N. and H. Barański, trans. 1987. Giordano Bruno and the Philosophy of the Ass. New Haven: Yale University Press. 61-62.

283 M. Van der Poel, Cornelius Agrippa: The Humanist Theologian and his Declamations (Leiden: Brill, 1997), 109.

284 Ordine, Giordano Bruno, 9-17.

285 Aristoph. Ran. 294.

107 donkey,286 her owner being closed to the Word; and Donatello’s bronze, The Miracle of the Mule, in which a mule kneels before the sacraments.287

Powerful/humble: Kings and biblical leaders are often portrayed as riding donkeys. Homer compares Ajax to a strong donkey;288 Samson kills one thousand enemies with the jaw of a donkey.289 I would add that Mary is conveyed to Bethlehem on a mule. Yet donkeys are also beasts of burden subject to a master, often abusive, as in

Apuleius’ Metamorphoses. I would add here also Ovid’s Amores 2.7.15-16, where he compares himself to a donkey after being nagged by his mistress: “Look how the ill-fated little donkey with his big ears/ Goes slowly on, tamed by constant beating! (Adspice, ut auritus miserandae sortis asellus/Adsiduo domitus verbere lentus eat!).

Wise/Ignorant: The donkey’s large ears indicate an ability to hear over long distances, as described by Apuleius’ character Lucius. 290 The donkey’s stubbornness and hard work can sometimes be viewed as positive attributes. Cicero, however, uses asinus to address an ignoramus,291 a trend also seen in Aesop.292

286 Numbers 22: 21-35; see also Bough, Donkey, 70-71.

287 See L. Hobgood-Oster, Holy Dogs & Asses (Urbana: University of Chicago Press, 2008), 65-67.

288 Homer Iliad XI.558-65.

289 Judg. 15:14ff.

290 Apuleius Met. IX.15 See also Bough, Donkey, 36-37. The donkey possesses the largest ears of any equine species. Donkey ears can hear over long distances, signal threats and indicate emotions, and even produce a cooling effect.

291 Cic. Pis. 30., quid nunc te, asine, litteras doceam? non opus est verbis sed fustibus. “What now, you ass, shall I teach you your letters? There is no need for words, only beatings.”

108

Human/Bestial: The donkey may embody the wise man’s struggle against his animal nature. 293

Funny/Serious: I would add that the donkey may be a pitiable, laughable or bawdy figure, as in Apuleius, due to its association with physical lust and its potential for bodily humor. It is ungainly with large ears and often represented as having large genitalia. Semonides in his Race of Women identifies a “donkey woman” who is a slave to bodily appetite in addition to being lazy and stubborn.

The importance of the donkey lies not just in these oppositions, but in his potential to move between them. The donkey figure may fail to change, remaining stubborn and headstrong, or through its humble drudgery achieve a kind of transformation. Thus the donkey may be associated with the achievement of a “fluid knowledge” newly aware of the “infinite ignorance” of man; or, it may symbolize “static knowledge,” interested only in universal truths. 294 The figure of Lucius belongs to the former category, where the process of physical transformation leads to a new state of mind. After his trials, Lucius states of his ordeal,

nam et ipse gratas gratias asino meo memini, quod me suo celatum tegmine variisque fortunis exercitatum, etsi minus prudentem, multiscium reddidit.295

But now I recall my donkey-self with the greatest thanks, because being tossed about by wavering fortunes while hidden in that disguise gave me much knowledge, though I was less than prudent.

293Ordine, Nuccio. 1984. “Simbologia dell'asino. A proposito di due recenti edizioni.” Giornale storica di letteratura Italiana 141: 116-30. Ordine comments, “L’uomo saggio deve anche saper percorrere lo spazio della feritas; ed è proprio nell’asino che si incarnano le due nature: quella umana e bestiale.” 119.

294 Ordine, Simbologia, 120.

295Apuleius Met. 9.13-14.

109

It is this capacity for transformation that holds the key to the donkey’s presence in

Cereta’s dialogue; her many references to the history and science of the animal will serve as evidence to this claim.

Cereta shows knowledge of many of these themes within the dialogue. Her section on the usefulness of the donkey is largely indebted to Pliny, as noted by Robin,296 and one of her interlocutors comments on the ability of the donkey’s ears to predict bad weather. She further mentions the Roman statesman Maecenas’ expensive taste in donkeys; the donkey’s association with Priapus and Silenus; the use of a donkey to carry a Roman bride’s dowry; Mars’ drum made of donkey skin; and donkey constellations. On this point, Cereta mentions that the two stars called the “Little Asses,” symbolize in earlier religions the rise from earthly suffering to celestial vigilance of human affairs, evoking the donkey’s association with transformation. These references, drawn from the areas of history, natural science, astronomy and medicine, are a chance for Cereta to display her own erudition. At the same time, Cereta argues that this passage is meant to comfort her audience—the renown of the deceased is commonly cited by Cereta, Seneca and others as a source of consolation, and Cereta adapts this to fit her subject.

Of course, the more obvious inspiration for the donkey’s presence would be

Apuleius. Diana Robin shows that the donkey’s story parallels that of Lucius in the

Golden Ass at several moments. Asellus’ story unfolds as a sort of murder mystery: both participants tell stories of the donkey’s life and death, but their stories do not quite add up. Soldus claims that a third party informed him of the donkey’s accidental fall over a

296 Robin, Laura Cereta, 199, notes 41 to 50.

110 cliff and subsequent disembowelment by wolves; yet Cereta at the beginning of the dialogue says the donkey’s hide has been stripped, presumably to be stretched and tanned, not likely if he was actually ripped apart by wolves. Philonacus’ story then parallels that of the miller’s boy in Apuleius; he is brutal to Asellus as he drives him over a mountain, beating him cruelly, later tying him to a tree as bait for a bear. In Philonacus’ version, the donkey survives his abuse, but Cereta suggests that he is a liar and accuses him of asinicide, coining the term asinicida.

References to Apuleius abound; Lucius considers throwing himself off a mountain at one point (7.24), and a shepherd suggests the donkey’s murder could be covered up with a story about hungry wolves (7.22):

‘heus tu, puer,’ ait ‘Obtruncato protinus eo intestina quidem canibus nostris iacta, ceteram vero carnem omnem operariorum cenae reserva. … eiusque mortem de lupo facile mentiemur.’

“Hey you, boy,” he said, “Slaughter (the donkey) and throw his guts to our dogs, and save all the rest of the meat for the dinner of the workers. We will easily blame his death on a wolf.”

Cereta could expect that contemporary readers would pick up on these references, and perhaps grow suspicious based on the implications of the passages in Apuleius. Cereta herself even mentions the author: “Apuleius wished to surround himself in the clothes of this [animal],” (huius lineamentis Apuleius circumvestiri se voluit),297 a reference again to Lucius’ transformation.

The figure of the donkey, then, is vital to Cereta’s work of consolation in two ways. First, Asellus’ fictive death creates the opportunity for mourning— someone must

297 Cereta, In Asinarium, 548-550.

111 be bereaved, after all. The particular choice of the donkey, however, frees Cereta from the constraints that might be associated with writing a funeral dialogue about a human, real or imagined. There is ample opportunity for humor with no one to offend, in addition to an abundance of arcane knowledge on which to capitalize. In other words, Cereta’s work is not about the donkey or his death; the work is instead a narrative of her own erudition, a playful expedition into obscure subjects such as the immortality of animal souls, the donkey’s role in Roman religion, literature, and culture, and its usefulness in medicine and cosmetics. Second, the donkey embodies the very process that the mourners attain to: progression from an ignorant state characterized by animal grief, to a state of understanding and acceptance.

To this we can add a third, perhaps more tentative, role for the donkey. Cereta herself, as a woman who is also a scholar, an orator and both author and interlocutor of her own philosophical dialogue, embodies (in the context of her time) the coincidentia oppositorum seen so often in “asinine” literature. Furthermore, it will be seen that Cereta represents herself as a speaker who is simultaneously ignorant and inspired, playing again with the juxtaposition of opposites. That is not to say that the donkey represents Cereta; it simply brings to the foreground issues relevant to her authorship of the text. Cereta is self-conscious throughout this work that she is a woman stepping into a usually masculine role as author, interlocutor, consoler, and philosopher. She addresses these issues in several ways. As noted by Rabil,298 she often uses the feminine suffix –trix when referring to her own occupation, leading to neologisms and rare forms; for instance,

298 Rabil, Laura Cereta,, 113.

112 in this dialogue she is an oratrix,299 a word that may be used to refer to a female suppliant, related to the verb oro, but which may also be the feminine of the word orator.

In a sense, Cereta does present herself as both. She states the fear that she will be banned as an orator within the first twenty-five lines of the dialogue, not terribly strange given the tendency towards false modesty in the tradition of rhetoric, but perhaps more significant given the social restrictions placed on women’s activity, and especially speaking in public, noted above. Thus she is at the mercy of her audience even more than a male speaker would be.

She addresses this issue most directly towards the end of the dialogue in response to the speech of Philonacus, who gradually emerges as a foil for her character. After relating his memories of Asellus, this speaker praises Cereta, raising her speech to the level of Demosthenes and demanding more of the rhetorical balm that pours from her pure, sweet lips.300 Cereta’s character, however, believes that Philonacus is mocking her with his hyperbolic praise. Recalling many of the concerns she expressed in her letter to

Bibolo Sempronio, she accuses Philonacus of false flattery:

Ab mea dicendi jejunitate prosus abhorrens, quo agreste meum ingenium et stilum ipsum femineo sexu languentem atque gestus omnis incultos sub viscario laudis fraudatae tentavit. 301

Abhorring my lack of eloquence, he tests my ingenium, my pen, sluggish because of my female sex, and my uncivilized gestures, with the bait of false praise.

299 Cereta, In Asinarium, 504.

300 Cereta, In Asinarium, 475-496.

301 Ibid., 510-513.

113

Cereta thus builds an opportunity to defend herself from critics like Bibolo into the text itself, crafting a complicated periodic sentence around a description of her supposed weaknesses, putting a voice to her critics’ complaints even as she provides evidence to the contrary. As an interlocutor in her own dialogue, Cereta is able to control her audience absolutely, placing the speech of her critics in Philonacus’ mouth and giving herself the final word. Philonacus is then a foil for Cereta’s character; and he further tests her and the audience by creating a false narrative using elements of Apuleius’ Golden

Ass. Cereta recognizes the intertextuality immediately, however, and accuses him of asinicida and further surmises that his praise must be false, too.

Though the tension between the audience and Cereta’s character builds throughout the dialogue, the main focus is on the topic of consolation. Cereta herself explains her strategy midway through the dialogue:

Enitar ipsa nunc pro causae nervis ea complecti quae possint figuris suis et suasabili argumento vestros animos ad arbitrium a dolore subvehere.302

I myself now should strive for the sake of our chief cause to embrace what might be able to lift your minds from grief to reason— figurative speech and persuasive argument.

Both tactics come into play throughout the work. When using persuasive argument, she turns to philosophical questions such as the nature of the soul; when using figurative speech, she borrows metaphors from Seneca and other authors.

The strategy of persuasion emerges very early in the dialogue as Cereta raises questions about the nature of animals’ souls. Of particular interest is the possibility that

302 Ibid., 499-502.

114 these souls might change bodies after death. a topic on which she cites Porphyry and

Pythagoras as authorities:

Hodie si…certum haberet animus, quasnam sedes asinis fata posuerint, vel si doctam me fecisset celebris illa quaestio majorum, quam de animarum circuitione sub obitu iterato Pythagoras Porphyriusque monstrarunt, declamarem miserioris aerumnae contiones et guttatim humectarem vobiscum haec ora lacrimulis.303

Today, if my mind held certain as to what seats the fates designate for donkeys, or if that famous inquiry of our ancestors had instructed me on what Pythagoras and Porphyry reveal about the repeated revolution (i.e. transmigration) of souls in death, I would call together a meeting for this unhappy labor and wet this face with teardrop after teardrop together with you.

This is a typical humanist modesty trope—stating ignorance of a topic while revealing knowledge of it— and it is accompanied by another common device, a digression on the structure of the speech. in which Cereta expresses fear that her audience will become confused by her poor organization.

As for the sources cited here, Cereta was likely aware of Pythagoras and his doctrines through Book XV of Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Here Pythagoras describes how souls move from beast to human form and back again.304 She may also have drawn from

Book VII of Pliny the Elder’s Natural History, which describes the same concept, and is referenced in other areas of the text. Rabil suggests that Porphyry is familiar to Cereta from Augustine’s City of God 10.29, which does mention Porphyry’s views on the soul.

But if we go on to 10.30 there is something even more interesting:

Nam Platonem animas hominum post mortem reuolui usque ad corpora bestiarum scripsisse certissimum est. Hanc sententiam Porphyrii doctor tenuit et Plotinus; Porphyrio tamen iure displicuit. In hominum sane non sua quae dimiserant, sed

303 Ibid., 2-7.

304 Ovid Met. XV 143-175.

115

alia noua corpora redire humanas animas arbitratus est. Puduit scilicet illud credere, ne mater fortasse filium in mulam reuoluta uectaret.

It is absolutely certain that Plato wrote that the souls of humans are returned to the bodies of beasts after death. Plotinus too, Porphyry’s teacher, held this opinion; Porphyry, however, rightly rejected it. He thought reasonably that human souls return to human bodies, not the bodies they have left, but other new bodies. He was thus embarrassed by the idea that a woman reincarnated in the form of a mule might perhaps carry her son.

It is perhaps not a coincidence that Cereta cites as her authority on the transmigration of donkey souls an author known for an anecdote involving a mule, which is of course one half donkey. The anecdote may have been a source of inspiration for Cereta’s choice; or it may be an intentional reference meant to amuse the knowledgeable reader.

Cereta then asks whether donkeys might be able to hear after death, as Eurydice heard Orpheus’ song. She writes,

Verum in hanc spem haec ita sentiendi Plinius et Seneca me parum adducunt, qui substantias separatas, nedum evanescentes spiritus, in illa tranquilitate reponi voluere post mortem, in qua a sensu ante vitam interquiescebant otiosae. Haec indita est brutis omnibus una mortalitas morte mortalior.305

Pliny and Seneca give me too little hope of knowing about this matter, since they think that separate substances, not vanishing spirits, are put to rest after death in the same state of tranquility in which they rested, senseless, before life. This one mortality, more deadly than death, happens to all brute animals.

This argument is drawn in part from Book VII of Pliny the Elder’s Natural History, in which he writes: “Everything is the same on the final day as it was before the first; there is no more sensation either for the body or for the mind than there was before birth,”

(omnibus a supremo die eadem quae ante primum, nec magis a morte sensus ullus aut

305 Cereta, In Asinarium, 56-60. The alliteration and polyptoton emphasize Cereta’s point, while perhaps injecting the kind of hyperbolic humor found in other parts of the dialogue.

116 corpori aut animae quam ante natalem).306 Similarly, Seneca uses the metaphor of the lamp in letter 54 to draw an analogy between the time before birth and the time after death: “I ask, would you not say that it was stupid, if someone said a light was worse off after it had been extinguished, than it was before it was lit?” (Rogo, non stultissimum dicas, si quis existimet lucernae peius esse, cum extincta est, quam antequam accenditur?).307

Finally, Cereta cites Plato on the possibility of transmigration near the end of the dialogue:

His visus est Plato sensisse congruentius versari animas eorum, qui turpitudinis incentivo servientes voluptarie ex hac vita decesserunt.308

Plato can be seen to have thought more aptly that the souls of those who served base pleasure changed to an opposite form when they departed from this life.

Cereta’s source for this is most likely Plato’s myth of Er, in which Plato describes how the individual’s next life is determined in part by lot, in part by choice, and furthermore how most individuals experience a reversal in their fortune due to their choices, in part influenced by the nature of their previous life.309

Cereta’s asides on the nature of the soul are not enough to console her audience, both of whom remain hysterical with grief, giving Cereta the chance to exhort them to return to their senses through metaphors of the type commonly found in Seneca’s letters.

306 Pliny, Nat., VII.55.

307 Sen. Ep. 54.5.

308 Cereta, In Asinarium, 553-555.

309 Plat. Rep. 10.618.

117

As usual, Cereta does not directly quote Seneca, but the thematic similarities, combined with Cereta’s explicit references to Seneca310 suggest that she adapted some of his rhetoric to her own purposes.

Cereta presents her audience members as extremely distraught, emphasizing their hyperemotional responses. Soldus, the owner, is the more sincere of the two interlocutors, crying, “O dies, o dolor omni dolore vehementior!”311 “Oh the day, oh the grief stronger than any grief!” and proclaiming a desire to die so that he may see Asellus in the underworld:

Sic visam tenebrosa in Tartara et manes et umbras. Quis falsum habet, quin primis in faucibus Aselli forte ventum inveniam, qui me senium indol[esc]entem sponte suscipiat?312

Thus I will see the shades and the ghosts in shadowy Tartarus. Who thinks it is untrue that I will find the spirit of Asellus first at the gates, who will accept me willingly, a grieving old man.

Soldus’ image of the shade of Asellus implies further that Cereta’s earlier arguments on the fate of the donkey’s soul were not successful; Soldus still thinks of him as trapped in

Tartarus, recalling Cereta’s own descriptions of the underworld as found in her letters.

Cereta’s response to Soldus is reminiscent of Seneca’s De Consolatione ad

Marciam. She often speaks in sailing metaphors which, though unique, use many of the same concepts and vocabulary as Seneca’s. A few examples will suffice to demonstrate.

Both authors conceive of the helm as the source of moral direction:

310 Cereta also mentions reading tragedies in her letters, probably those of Seneca, as argued by Robin, Laura Cereta, page 27 n. 25.

311 Cereta, In Asinarium, 189-190.

312 Ibid., 198-200.

118

Turpis est navigii rector, cui gubernacula fluctus eripuit, qui fluvitantia vela deseruit, permisit tempestati ratem. 313

He is a shameful pilot, who lets a wave steal the helm of the ship, abandoning the billowing sails and giving the ship to the storm.

And in Cereta’s work:

Ubi ad rectum vivendi cursum gubernacula tui consilii?314

Where is the helm of your counsel, your path to the right way of living?

Both conceive of death as a safe harbor:

Scopulum esse illum putamus dementissimi; portus est, aliquando petendus. 315

We stupidly think [death] to be a dangerous reef; it is a port, and at some time it must be sought.

And in Cereta’s dialogue:

…non flet genitor, si quando sospes natus ad portum post naufragium enavit.316

A parent does not cry if a child sails safely into port after a shipwreck.

We also see in this example the metaphor of the shipwreck for a time of trouble; Seneca too uses this construction, emphasizing the importance of maintaining control of the helm even in a storm:

at ille vel in naufragio laudandus quem obruit mare clavum tenentem et obnixum.317

313 Sen. Cons. Marc. 6.6.3.

314 Cereta, In Asinarium, 265-6.

315 Sen. Ep. 70.3.

316 Cereta, In Asinarium, 275-76.

317 Sen. Cons. Marc. 6.6.3.

119

But he is to be praised who, though the sea takes him in a shipwreck, still clings stubbornly to the helm.

This imagery shifts the focus of the consolation away from the departed and towards the bereaved, asking both participants to consider not Asellus’ death itself, but their reaction to it— the only element of the situation that is under their control.

In the final sections of the dialogue, Cereta turns briefly to two other strategies of consolation. Her sections on the history of the donkey and its usefulness in medicine and cosmetics, already mentioned above, are meant to offer consolation in the fact that the donkey will be remembered; Cereta specifically exhorts Soldus to take heart in the many writings that will recall the deeds of Asellus. This is a common technique also used by

Seneca, who emphasizes the importance of memory in his letter to Marcia.318 Cereta signals the end of the work by appealing to reason, ratio, as the force that pulls humans out of unrestrained grief. Apparently this final plea completes Cereta’s mission; she proclaims, ecce, iam persuasi omnes, “look, everyone is persuaded!” and gives her audience no chance to object.

Cereta’s dialogue demonstrates her commitment to the principles she outlines in her letters on women and exceptionality. Her character actively defends her own ingenium while pointing out that praise can be used subversively to undermine women, tempting them to commit an act of hubris—as Cereta herself eventually felt that she did in writing this very work. Nonetheless, Cereta’s construction of herself as a voice of

318 Sen. Cons. Marc. I: Seneca commends Marcia for saving the works of her father and thus preserving his memory.

120 philosophical consolation and her use of Classical philosophy in this construction point to her ultimate goal: to become an exemplum in her own sense of the word, a woman who continues the lineage started by the individuals in her catalogue, passing on her knowledge and inspiration through her works to future generations of women.

The Letters

The dialogue would not be the end of Cereta’s philosophical experimentation.

Throughout her later correspondence we see persistent engagement with Academic,

Peripatetic, Epicurean and Stoic ideas. As will be shown, she draws from a variety of

Classical sources, preferring to integrate their ideas into her work rather than directly cite them. Also evident in the letters is the development of an authorial presence confident enough to engage both men and women on a variety of intellectual questions, some quite controversial.

To explore this phenomenon I will focus on three letters spanning a variety of topics and genres, including dreams, death, and fate; soliloquy, and execratio, all written in the year 1487, after Cereta had begun to recover from the death of her husband, and after she had composed the Dialogue on the Funeral of a Donkey.. Included among these is Cereta’s letter to Cassandra Fedele, interesting not only as an attempt to begin a correspondence with another female humanist, but also for its philosophical content.

I use the numbers assigned by Rabil, followed by my own descriptions:

55 to Cassandra Fedele: A journey to the underworld.319

319 Cereta, Epistolae, 75. Cassandrae Venetae, Laura Cereta s. / Epist. XXXV. April 14th 1487. Also found in Vt 42, Ve 37. 121

56 to Francesco Fontana: Curse of Fortune320

76 to her sister Deodata: Defense of Epicurus.321

Rabil (1981) gives a summary of each of these letters in Laura Cereta, transcribing only those letters not included in Tomasini’s 1640 edition. At this time I have only consulted the Tomasini edition, noting the location of other versions following Rabil’s format:

Vt= Vat. Lat. 3176.

Ve= Marc. Cod. Lat. XI.28 [4186]

Rabil gives a thorough discussion of the letters’ dating in the same volume.322 Suffice it to say that Cereta almost never gives the year, only the day and month, in her letters, but it is possible in most cases to determine the year based on the mention of securely dated events such as the death of her husband in July 1486 and the “German War” of 1487.

Some of the correspondents are known outside the context of these letters; others are unidentified, or appear to be fictitious, as with the probable pseudonym Europa Solitaria.

Cereta as Skeptic: Letter To Cassandra Fedele, April 13th, 1487

Cereta’s letter to Cassandra Fedele is for the most part a description of a dream in which Cereta descends to a Virgilian underworld, where she finds Allecto, the

Eumenides, Trojan heroes, Charon, and the Styx. The many references are probably meant to impress Fedele, who was slightly older and more renowned than Cereta, and to

320 Ibid., 47. Ad Regium Oratorem Franciscum Fontanam. Laurae Ceretae Execratio contra Fortunam. / Epist. XXIV. April 13th, 1487. Also found in Vt 31.

321 Ibid., 168. Ad sororem Deodatam Leonensem Monacham Laura Cereta Topographia, Epicurique Defensio. / Epist. LXIII. December 12th, 1487. Also found in Vt 75, Ve 65.

322 Rabil, Laura Cereta, 39-51. Especially helpful is Rabil’s table of extant materials beginning on page 43.

122 invite her into a regular correspondence. Indeed, Cereta refers to her letter as a munus primum, “first gift,” implying that the exchange will continue. Fedele, however, who was apparently familiar with and highly critical of Cereta’s work, never responded. Fedele’s apparent refusal of friendship angered and saddened Cereta, who, in a letter to Bonifacio

Bembo (Vat.) or perhaps Laurentio Capreolo of Bresica (Ve and Tomasini disagree),323 claims that Fedele believes her work to be plagiarized, probably from her father, and complains further that Fedele is conducting a trial unfairly, with the defendant in absentia. As is her tendency when writing invective, Cereta relies heavily on legal metaphors, proclaiming her right to respond “in court” to Fedele’s charges.

Though Cereta’s letter to Fedele is not successful in starting the muliebris respublica that she envisions in her other writings, it is useful for its insight into Cereta’s philosophical leanings. After Cereta considers the opinions of others on the Underworld, she concludes,

Ego enim communiore via nunc trimembris Peripateticae differentias, nunc vero incertas probabilitates Academiae profiteor: Nolo tantas quaestiones definire, sed quaerere.

I profess at some times, by the more common path, the distinctions of a threefold Peripatetic, while at others the uncertain probabilities of the Academy. I do not wish to settle such questions, but only to seek them out.

Here Cereta juxtaposes the schools associated with Aristotle and Plato, who both enjoyed considerable attention in the humanist movement, though Aristotle was associated with the unfashionable Scholastic movement. Several sources for the principles of these

323 The manuscripts identify two different correspondents. The letter (63 in Rabil, Laura Cereta) was written in August of 1487, a few months after Cereta wrote her letter to Fedele.

123 philosophical schools would have been available to Cereta. Though skepticism was largely forgotten in the Middle Ages, much of the doctrine was recovered in the humanist period through Cicero’s Academica, which Petrarch himself owned and read, and

Augustine’s response to Cicero, Contra Academicos. The skepticism of Pyrrho may also have been known through Diogenes Laertius’ Lives, translated by Traversari.324

Cicero’s Tusculan Disputations was also a major source of Renaissance knowledge about the ancient philosophical schools. It is perhaps this text that prompted

Cereta to link the Peripatetics with the Academy in this way; in Book II of Cicero’s work we find a reference to the tendency of both schools towards continual questioning:

Itaque mihi semper Peripateticorum Academiaeque consuetudo de omnibus rebus in contrarias partis disserendi…placuit.325

And I have always been pleased with that custom of the Peripatetics and the Academy, of examining all things from both sides.

This examination recalls Cereta’s dedication to asking, rather than answering, questions, a technique familiar to readers of Plato. Furthermore, Cereta also represents the Academy as having incertas probabilitates, “uncertain probabilities,” a description perhaps referencing another Academic method of reasoning described by Cicero in On the Nature of the Gods: Cicero writes, “the Academics prudently refrain from consensus in uncertain

324 Jill Kraye, “The Revival of Hellenistic Philosophies,” in The Cambridge Companion to Renaissance Philosophy, ed. James Hankins (Cambridge: University Press, 2007), 107-109. See also Tiziano Dorandi, “Diogène Laërce du Moyen Âge à la Renaissance,” in Exempla docent: Les exemples des philosophes de l’Antiquité à la Renaissance, ed. Thomas Ricklin (Paris: Librairie Philosophique J. Vrin, 2006), 44-48.

325 Cic. Tusc. 2.9

124 matters,” (prudenterque Academici a rebus incertis adsensionem cohibuisse).326 As this passage continues, Cicero explains that he, too, will follow this method in his own line of questioning and look only for “what is most similar to the truth, and what we would all conclude with nature as a guide,” (quod maxime veri simile est et quo omnes sese duce natura venimus).327 The “uncertain probabilities” of Cereta’s description thus resemble

Cicero’s emphasis on likelihood over certainty. Finally, Cereta describes the Peripatetics as trimembris, which could reference any number of Aristotelian ideas concerned with the number three: the three substances (Metaphysics), the three unities of drama

(Poetics), the three types of soul (On the Soul), the three types of friendship

(Nichomachean Ethics), the three methods of persuasion (On Rhetoric), etc. Most likely, however, it is a reference to the three parts of the soul presented in the Nichomachean

Ethics, (vegetative, rational, and appetitive) as trimembris describes the Peripatetic herself, not merely the doctrine.328

In conclusion, Cereta draws from several schools of thought, including the

Peripatetics, moderate forms of Skepticism, and the Academics, while communicating a sense of her own belonging and participation in these schools. Finally, she attempts to create a space for women to talk seriously about philosophical and intellectual issues as

326 Cic. N.D. 1.

327 Cic. N.D. 2.

328 See Luca Bianchi, “Continuity and Change in the Aristotelian Tradition,” in The Cambridge Companion to Renaissance Philosophy, ed. James Hankins, 49-71 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007). . The Nichomachean Ethics was widely read, translated and commented upon in humanist Florence, and the subject of public lectures there in 1457 by John Argyropoulos. This knowledge presumably spread to Brescia and beyond throughout Cereta’s lifetime.

125 they relate to their lives, though Fedele ultimately does not reciprocate. We will see these trends play out in her other letters, and finally in her dialogue.

Stoicism and Epicureanism I: Letter To Francesco Fontana, April 13th, 1487

Robin identifies this work as one of Cereta’s “epistolary essays,”329 along with six other long letters written around typical humanist topics: Fortune, greed, war, city life, consolation and bereavement. Robin hypothesizes that the six epistolary essays could have been part of a public lecture series mentioned by Tomasini and others.330 As Robin states, there is no evidence that these letters were used in public lectures, but many do lack the personal touches that mark Cereta’s regular correspondence with friends, perhaps suggesting that they were intended for a more formal setting. This letter in particular contains no direct address to the recipient, who is not known outside of this letter.

The work constitutes an attack on Fortuna, glorified by the ancients and still honored by those who have rejected God. Cereta reduces the goddess of fortune down to something absurdum and inane, presenting her as a morally neutral rerum eventum,

“occurrence of things,” not worthy of worship, freeing readers from fear of a vengeful and fickle goddess. Cereta then gives several examples drawn from Cicero, Livy and

Quintilian: Hannibal the Elder’s destruction, Regulus dying in chains, Alcibiades in exile, and the varying fortune of Cyrus. In other words, bad and good things happen to all

329 Robin, Laura Cereta, 152.

330 Cereta, Epistolae, 3-20 (Vita).

126 people; happenstance is outside our control, even outside the control of God, as Cereta puts it:

Satis ad argumentum videri debet, quod non est ea, quae nos vexat, Fortuna, sed accidens, quod super contingenti disposito vel Natura, vel Deus inclinat. Quod vero dicimus ipsi Fortunam, id ipsum omnino nihil est aliud, quam imaginatio vani terroris…331

It ought to be enough for my argument to show that it is not Fortune who troubles us, but rather chance, over which neither Nature nor God holds sway in the occurrence of events. But really what we call Fortune is none other than an image of vain terror.

Cereta’s attack on Fortune as an empty deity might seem to recall Lucretius’ attack on the fear caused by religio. In fact, Cereta discusses religio and fear explicitly in the same passage. She states that struggling under Fortune only leads to further oscillations of one’s fate,

quibus sub dolore, timor excitur, et ex timore Religio.332

By which fear is excited in times of grief, and religion in times of fear.

Lucretius, too, has little patience for those propelled towards superstition by adversity:

inferias mittunt multoque in rebus acerbis acrius advertunt animos ad religionem.333

They bring offerings and turn their minds to religion Much more ardently in troubled times.

Cereta, however, proclaims this type of religio false, likening it to the vain and shameless worship of idols in ancient Rome, Egypt, Crete, India and elsewhere. Her use of the word

331 Cereta, Epistolae, 52.

332 Ibid., 52.

333 Lucr. DRN 3.53-54.

127 is then closer to the Lucretian interpretation of religio as “superstition,” which causes worship of false gods and strange, useless, or even dangerous practices, as in De Rerum

Natura, Book I, where Lucretius describes the sacrifice of Iphigenia in Book I and blames religio for the travesty. 334

Cereta may well have read Lucretius’ epic poem. A. Palmer lists in her catalogue of Lucretian manuscripts an edition published in Brescia by Tomasso Ferrando in 1471 or

1473.335 Palmer also posits that there was a 1496 edition that is now lost, indicating an interest in Lucretius in Brescia that extended throughout Cereta’s lifetime.

Though Cereta never mentions Lucretius by name, she was aware of Epicurus, and counted herself both a critic and supporter of Epicurean philosophy. In a letter to her sister, considered in full below, she defends Epicureanism from stereotypes of hedonism and debauchery; but here, she is more critical, stating,

Et quamquam confutati Epicuri…in errorem suum illa revolvatur enormitas, qua, Deo Mundi curam esse negantes, omnia fortuitu et contingenti quodam evenire firmarunt; reliqui tamen omnes in Fortunam conspuere philosophi. 336

Nevertheless the enormous fact of Epicurus being refuted can be attributed to his error, namely denying that God has concern for the world, and affirming that everything happens by chance or accident. All the other philosophers spit on Fortune.

Cereta then lists Aristotle, Plato and Socrates as examples of those who rejected Fortune

334 Lucr. DRN 1. 62-101

335 Ada Palmer, Reading Lucretius in the Renaissance (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2014) 258- 259. See also her Addenda, in Catalogus Translationum et Commentariorum. Mediaeval and Renaissance Latin Translations and Commentaries: Annotated Lists and Guides. Volume X, ed. G. Dinkova-Bruun (Turnhout: Brepols, 2015).

336 Cereta, Epistolae, 53.

128 from their philosophies, and claims that those who follow Fortuna in reality have no god at all, playing on the popular understanding of Epicurus as an atheist.

Cereta closes the letter with a reflection on the death of her own husband, in which she appeals mainly to elements of Stoic philosophy. She considers the instability of human fortune, and emphasizes her own ability to calm and console herself through meditation, concluding,

Mors communis est omnibus casus; sed unus innocentis foelix est obitus. Non ergo justos infoelicitat Fortuna vel beat: a vicio, atque virtute omnis in morte pendet eventus. 337

Death is a fate common to all; but a happy death belongs alone to a virtuous man. Fortune would then neither curse nor bless the just, and every occurrence in death depends on virtue or vice.

Cereta’s thoughts echo Seneca’s letters to Lucilius on death and dying. For Seneca,

“Dying not only represented a trial of a man's soul but also a final judgment of its strength. A variety of deceits or masks might well have borne false witness before, but death stripped them away and provided an opportunity for the soul to look into its very depths.”338 We can see this idea developed in the letters. In letter 66 Seneca reflects on the different times and methods of death, and ultimately concludes that death is the great equalizer:

Mors quidem omnium par est. Per quae desiliunt, diversa sunt; in quod desiliunt, unum est. Mors nulla maior aut minor est; habet enim eundem in omnibus modum, finisse vitam.339

337 Ibid., 54-55.

338 Russell Noyes Jr., “Seneca on Death,” Journal of Religion and Health 12 (1973): 233.

339 Sen. Ep. 66.43.

129

Dying is the same for everyone. As to the methods, it may differ; but in the occurrence, it is one and the same. No death is lesser or greater; its measure is the same for all, to have finished life.

The only distinguishing factor in the final moment is then revealed in letter 70:

Citius mori aut tardius ad rem non pertinet, bene mori aut male ad rem pertinet. Bene autem mori est effugere male vivendi periculum.340

It does not matter whether one dies early or late, but rather whether one dies well or badly. And dying well means escaping the danger of living badly.

For both Seneca and Cereta, then, a good death depends not on external factors, but only on virtue. Death itself is not a misfortune, since the virtuous person is always prepared for the ups and downs of fate.

Cereta turns often to Stoicism when writing in the genre of consolation, whether in epistolary or dialogue format. The philosophy was fairly popular in the Humanist period, with the (fictitious) correspondence between Seneca and Paul providing an argument for the compatibility of his philosophy with Christianity—Petrarch presented

Stoicism in this way in his 1366 Remedies for Good and Bad Fortune.341 Cereta mentions reading tragedies, probably those of Seneca, in her letters (as mentioned above), and it is not a stretch to imagine that she also read the letters and essays. In fact, the following letter, which constitutes a defense of Epicurus, will suggest that Cereta used Seneca’s letters as her source for more than Stoicism.

340 Sen. Ep. 70.6.

341 See Kraye, The Revival, 99-102.

130

Stoicism and Epicureanism II: Letter To Deodata di Leno, December 12th, 1487

Robin interprets this letter alongside Cereta’s correspondence with “Europa

Solitaria,” 342 reasoning that the two letters form a diptych in which Cereta argues both sides of a question, “as though they were the speeches of two different interlocutors in a dialogue— the humanist ideal of in utramque partem.”343 The other side of the “diptych” identified by Robin is a letter on a topic widely debated in humanist circles: the value of the active vs. contemplative lifestyle. The topic was a popular subject for several generations, and in general can be seen to shift from emphasis on the contemplative life during Petrarch’s era, to support of an active life in the works of Leonardo Bruni and

Coluccio Salutati;344 in fact, Robin notes that Cereta is influenced by Salutati’s letter to

Pellegrino Zambeccari, which argues against the contemplative life; and that the name

Europa evokes the danger of being seduced by nature and led astray into the wild. 345

Assuming that Europa is a “straw woman,” as Robin argues,346 we can see Cereta inventing a correspondence in which Europa describes her withdrawal into the countryside. Cereta strongly urges Europa to remain active, writing,

342 Cereta, Epistolae, 214-220. Laura Cereta ad Solitaria Europa falsa delectatione vitae privatae admonitio. February 29th, 1487/1488. Also found in Vt 82, Ve 72.

343 Robin, Laura Cereta, 115.

344 Petrarch scolds Cicero for his active political life, brought to light by his own discovery of Cicero’s letters, and advocates the contemplative life in his De vita solitaria. Salutati wrote countless political letters as chancellor of Florence and urged friend and correspondent Zambeccari not to withdraw into a monastery, while Bruni wrote his Panegyric and History of the city of Florence, exalting the life of the active citizen.

345 Robin, Laura Cereta, 122.

346 Ibid., 123.

131

Sola Sapiens juribus Fortunae non paret.347 Eam autem Sapientem existimo, non quae se pro solitudinis oblectamento a consortio Civitatis exemit; sed quae pro aeternae vitae mercede in medios malorum turbines victrici constantia luctatur.

She alone is a wise woman who does not yield to the laws of Fortune. However, I also consider her wise, who does not remove herself from the fellowship of the state in exchange for the enjoyment of solitude, but rather struggles with the constancy of a champion amidst the winds of trouble, in return for an eternal life.

Note, as usual, that Cereta uses feminine nouns and adjectives when describing her wise person, choosing the form sola to specify a female sapiens, as well as the feminine form of victor: victrix. Cereta’s command of the language allows her to create space for a discussion of female wisdom, subverting the usual convention of using the masculine gender when speaking in general terms. Rabil and Robin interpret this letter as a soliloquy, which further explains the use of the feminine gender, and perhaps also the variation in Cereta’s position on the active vs. contemplative life. Cereta herself struggled with this question after the death of her husband, though she ultimately continued her studies and remained in the public sphere for the rest of her life.

Cereta argues the other side of the question in a letter to Deodata, her sister, who may have been a nun, another possible explanation for the difference of opinion in the two letters. In this letter she advocates a calm life of reflection, using Epicurean and Stoic themes, to defend Epicurus against her sister’s criticisms. Robin notes that the first half of the letter is indebted to one of Petrarch’s letters, in which the author climbs a mountain while meditating on the divine, while the second half of the letter owes more to Lorenzo

347 Robin corrects this reading from parit, found in Tom. And Ven., to paret, found in Vat.

132

Valla’s On Pleasure, in which Valla redefines Epicurean voluptas to agree with Christian values, focusing not on sensual pleasure, but on the bliss of being close to God.348

Cereta begins the letter by addressing her sister, who apparently has criticized her for enjoying Epicurus. Cereta writes,

Tacite sub nostro illo gaudio Epicuri voluptatem impugnas. Hanc tamen ipsa tam facile vicio non dederim; quum Philosophus illam non in delectationum sensibus, sed in animi contenti satietate locaverit. 349

You silently impugn pleasure when you attack my enjoyment of Epicurus, but I would not attribute pleasure so easily to vice. The Philosopher finds pleasure not in the delight of the senses, but in the satisfaction of a contented mind.

Cereta’s task is then to redefine voluptas in new terms, much as Valla does in On

Pleasure, by focusing it around the mind instead of the body. To do this, Cereta leaves on a metaphorical journey. She describes an ascent up a mountain through a pastoral setting evocative of the Epicurean garden. The author and her companions take pleasure in the simple things of nature: grapes on the vine, milk, and the antics of various animals. The group bathes in a pond, sleeps by a stream, and then dines on simple foods, since the wise person is satisfied with a frugal meal.

At this point Cereta begins to discuss philosophy more explicitly. She exhorts her sister and herself to wake up, and recognize that the enjoyment, jucunditas, of her tranquil walk up the mountain is worth very little. Cereta evokes two iconic passages in

Latin literature to make her point. She asks,

348 Robin, Laura Cereta, 115-116.

349 Cereta, Epistolae, 169.

133

Quid facit nunc ob beatitudinem animi respirans illa videndi e promontoriis arva tranquillitas? Quid contulit quietior illa nobis consolati, cordis effusio, qua pervagatos montes sine strepitu ullave Sortis iniuria lustravim?350

What does the tranquility of resting, looking down on the fields from the mountains, do for the supreme happiness of the mind? What does the quiet ebullience of a content heart give us, by which we might look over the far flung mountains without any noise, or any injury of fate?

It has already been noted that Cereta may have been familiar with the De Rerum Natura; the imagery in this passage only strengthens that argument, given the extreme similarity to the opening of Book II:

suave etiam belli certamina magna tueri per campos instructa tua sine parte pericli; sed nihil dulcius est, bene quam munita tenere edita doctrina sapientum templa serena, despicere unde queas alios passimque videre…351

It is pleasing to watch the great battle lines of war Drawn out across the field, without any part in the danger; But nothing is sweeter than to hold the high plains, Serene and well-fortified by the learning of the wise, From where one may look down and see others, here and there…

Cereta seems to challenge this passage of Lucretius directly, though as usual she adapts the language to fit her own style. She continues her criticism by pointing out the absurdity of traveling here and there seeking such places of tranquility, and concludes that she has wandered (erravimus, which also evokes ideas of sin and error) enough.

Travel means nothing to those who recognize that the whole world is there home—and indeed even that is too small. Her travels have thus been misguided, “because against the precepts of Philosophy I thought that by traveling I was crossing a more secure threshold,

350 Ibid., 173. Tomasini’s edition reads ab beatitudinem; I have corrected to ob for sense.

351 Lucr. DRN 2.4-8.

134 and one of peace,” (quod contra Philosophiae praecepta crediderim isto discursu quietis securius limen intrare).352 This passage recalls a letter of Seneca, in which he discusses the pointless nature of travel:

erras et agens ac locum ex loco mutas, cum illud, quod quaeris, bene vivere, omni loco positum sit.353

You wander, and going on you change from place to place, when that which you seek—to live well— is located everywhere.

Robin notes that Cereta plays also with the general idea of Stoic cosmopolitanism.354 To point to a specific parallel, in the same letter Seneca exhorts the reader to consider the whole world his country (patria mea totus hic mundus est)355; the only path to true peace of mind is therefore virtus, just as Seneca writes in letter 27.356

After this Stoic moment, however, Cereta goes on to praise Epicurus as temperate, temperatus, and of great moderation, magna moderatione, explaining how he curbed his appetites and thus broke the cycle of always desiring more, and furthermore, how he believed that misguided attempts at finding comfort would be punished. The question remains then: why use Stoic ideas in a defense of Epicurus, the founder of a philosophical school generally recognized in the Renaissance as the very opposite of

Stoic restraint? The answer lies again with Seneca. Though critical of him at times—he

352 Cereta, Epistolae, 174.

353 Sen. Ep. 28.5.

354 Robin, Laura Cereta, 120, n. 12.

355 Sen. Ep. 28.4.

356 Sen. Ep. 27.3: Sola virtus praestat gaudium perpetuum, securum.

135 calls him a magister voluptatis in letter 18.9, and effeminate in letter 33— Seneca was on the whole an admirer of Epicurus. He often closes his correspondence with a quotation from him, acting as a “spy in enemy camp.”357 He even goes so far as to exhort his correspondent to “Do everything as if Epicurus is watching you,” (Sic fac…omnia, tamquam spectet Epicurus).358

In fact, Seneca references Epicurus by name almost fifty times in Volume I of the letters alone, and the quotations he attributes to him span a variety of topics. For example, in the very letter quoted above (28.9), Seneca writes: “Epicurus, it seems to me, said a noble thing: ‘The beginning of good health is the recognition of error,’” (‘Initium est salutis notitia peccati.’ Egregie mihi hoc dixisse videtur Epicurus,) a very general statement that could be applied to any number of philosophies, even Christianity. To cite a few other examples, Seneca quotes Epicurus on the importance of dedication to philosophy (letter 8); on the importance of friendship (letter 9); on the utility of exempla

(letter 11); on living in accordance with nature (letter 16); and on the troubles associated with wealth (letter 17), among other topics. These sententiae are drawn from a variety of sources; Schiesaro finds that Seneca is aware of at least five of Epicurus’ letters, and probably also drew from an unidentified collection of his sayings arranged by subject.359

357 Sen. Ep. 2.

358 Sen. Ep. 25.5.

359 Alessandro Schiesaro, “Seneca and Epicurus: The Allure of the Other,” in The Cambridge Companion to Seneca, ed. James Hankins (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015), 239.

136

Seneca in fact defends his use of Epicurus’ words in several of the letters. The general argument is that all wisdom is public property, and can be borrowed by anyone regardless of philosophical affiliation. Seneca writes in letter 8, for instance:

Potest fieri, ut me interroges, quare ab Epicuro tam multa bene dicta referam potius quam nostrorum. Quid est tamen, quare tu istas Epicuri voces putes esse, non publicas?360

It may happen that you should ask me why I refer to the many fine sayings of Epicurus rather than to those of our own school. Do you think then that there is any saying that belongs only to Epicurus, and not to the public?

Seneca applies this theory outside of references to Epicureanism as well, stating further in letter 12.11 that the best ideas belong to everyone (sciant, quae optima sunt, esse communia). As Schiesaro explains, “such positive evaluation makes it possible for

Seneca to endorse several aspects of Epicurean teachings about ethics.”361

And yet, Seneca’s use of Epicureanism is very cautious, in that he tends to use sententiae and vocabulary that have been isolated from their original context rather than engaging with larger themes. As Schiesaro argues, “reliance on sententiae disconnected from a larger argumentative framework limits from the outset the scope for doctrinal contamination.”362 In fact, the incorporation of Epicurean elements into the works of

Seneca was in some ways a defense mechanism, as argued by P. Gordon:

360 Sen. Ep. 8.8.

361 Schiesaro, “Seneca and Epicurus,” 241.

362 Ibid., 240.

137

A fundamental mode of response to this threat [of Epicureanism] involved a seizing of control of Epicurean language.363

In other words, by using the samevocabulary as Epicurus (in Latin, of course, with voluptas corresponding to the Greek ἡδονή),364 and by lifting individual sententiae without regard for their context, Seneca is able to recast elements of Epicureanism as compatible with Stoicism.

Cereta follows much the same strategy, and comes to some of the same conclusions as Seneca—perhaps through his very work. For instance, according to

Seneca’s letter 85, Epicurus believed that pleasure came from virtue, but did not consider virtue alone sufficient for a happy life. Seneca’s own reading of Epicurean doctrine, however, leads to the conclusion that virtue alone should be sufficient for a happy life.365

Cereta seemingly agrees with Seneca on this point, stating in her letter to Martha

Marcella that virtue alone is sufficient for Epicurean happiness:

vult enim Epicuri doctrina sapientem posse se ipso esse contentum: nam omni prorsus amico dulcior est virtus, quippe quod ex virtute, non ex marito, vel auro, ullave delectatio felicitas nostra procedit. Quid enim fructus habet implexa passioni, innodataque voluptas?366

Even the doctrines of Epicurus hope that the wise man is able to be content with himself alone: for virtue is sweeter than any friend, since our happiness proceeds

363 Pamela Gordon, The Invention and Gendering of Epicurus (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2012), 109.

364 Ibid., 110.

365 Sen. Ep. 85.13: Epicurus quoque iudicat eum qui virtutem habeat, beatum esse, sed ipsam virtutem non satis esse ad beatam vitam, quia beatum efficiat voluptas, quae ex virtute est, non ipsa virtus. Inepta distinctio. Idem enim negat umquam virtutem esse sine voluptate; ita si ei iuncta semper est atque inseparabilis, et sola satis est. Habet enim secum voluptatem, sine qua non est, etiam cum sola est.

366 Cereta, Epistolae, 142.

138

not from a spouse, or gold, or any other delight, but from virtue. What enjoyment can a pleasure that is tangled and knotted with passion hold?

Cereta’s many defenses of Epicurus thus recall the problematic relationship of voluptas and virtus— as seen in works on Epicurus by Cicero and Seneca, as described by P.

Gordon, manly virtus (and its close cousin, Romanitas) is often represented as fundamentally incompatible with effeminate voluptas.367

Any understanding of Epicurus or Epicureanism gained from the letters is then skewed by Seneca’s methodology in choosing his quotations. His selection does not appear to be random; rather, he chooses general maxims that are suited to the Stoic themes of his own letters. This method of reading and writing has much in common with the strategies of the Renaissance reader; Palmer has described the tendency to read

Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura, for instance, only for what was useful, and to downplay radical elements of the text in favor of useful moral and scientific material.368 Epicurus and Epicureanism are thus transmitted to Cereta through a Stoic filter. While Cereta would have been familiar with the general principles of Epicureanism through other sources, such as Valla’s On Pleasure and Lucretius’ De Rerum Natura, her own use of

Stoic ideas within a text defending Epicurus suggests that the two authors and schools were linked in her mind, perhaps by Seneca’s letters.

These works are strong evidence of Cereta’s familiarity with the philosophical schools, her concerns as an author and a Renaissance woman, and her determination to participate in the Humanist movement on her own terms—through a muliebris respublica

367 Gordon, Invention and Gendering,112; for general background, see 109-138.

368 See in general Palmer, Reading Lucretius. 139 in which women, inspired by their predecessors, are able to reach the same heights as their male counterparts. Though her vision fell short, in part due to her untimely death,

Cereta’s first steps represent an important contrast to the life of Fedele. Rather than allowing her own personality to be subsumed into the type of the “learned woman,” an abstraction belonging neither to the world of women nor to the world of men, Cereta emphasizes that the path to wisdom is open to all. By freeing herself from the constraints of exceptionality, she opens herself to real intellectual exchange—as well as criticism.

The framework of this respublica in turn affects the way in which Cereta uses

Classical sources. The intellectual movement she envisions transcends the boundaries between philosophical schools; though Cereta references most often the Stoics,

Peripatetics and Academics, while displaying Skeptic tendencies as well, she is not wholly devoted to one school, considering herself a part-time member of several.

Furthermore, we find the ideas of these schools fully digested, integrated into her work, and applied to new contexts. Ancient philosophy and exempla do not function as sources of absolute authority for Cereta. In the dialogues and the letters, they function rather as a point of departure— not a final proof. In this way Cereta defies the tradition of the exceptional woman as embodied by Cassandra Fedele and Boccaccio’s illustrious women to emerge as a distinct personality in the history of educated women.

140

CHAPTER 4: NUOVA MUSA, NUOVA DIOTIMA

TARQUINIA MOLZA (1542-1617)

It is perhaps ironic that a woman dubbed “l’Unica” should mark such a turning point in the history of the exceptional woman. Yet Tarquinia Molza’s life demonstrates a significant break from the experiences of the humanists Cereta and Fedele. Unlike her predecessors, Molza succeeded in making a career of her learning at the court of the d’Este and became widely known for her talents as a musician and poet. Though she was undoubtedly portrayed as unique among women in this regard, Molza’s exceptionality did not restrict her to the realm of the intangible decus Virgo.

The most detailed source for Molza’s life is her tutor Francesco Patrizi’s four-part dialogue L’Amorosa Filosofia, “The Philosophy of Love,” a work inspired by the

Symposium of Plato. The autograph copy of the work, written in 1577, is unfortunately incomplete, and described as “faded, full of corrections, erasures, insertions,” by J.C.

Nelson, whose Italian edition is the standard.369 What does remain is a testament to

Tarquinia’s status as a new kind of exceptional woman and the role that ancient exempla played in establishing her as such.

369Francesco Patrizi and John Charles Nelson, L’Amorosa Filosofia (Firenze: Felice le Monnier, 1963), v. The autograph copy resides in the Biblioteca Palatina di Parma: cod. Pal. 418.

141

Book I: Patrizi’s Encomium to Molza

The first book of this dialogue establishes the reader’s expectations for

Tarquinia’s character and the work as a whole through an encomium to Tarquinia given by several interlocutors. Two trends emerge in the speeches of the participants; common to each is the concept of novelty. Tarquinia is both nuova musa and nuova Diotima, a new Muse and a new Diotima. In addition to referencing these models, the interlocutors engage with several of the most common themes in encomia to learned women. They marvel at Molza’s combination of masculine and feminine virtues and her incredible divinity, which warrants the name of “θαυμασία,” “wonder.”370 The interlocutors also fixate on Molza’s body. This is common theme in works on learned women; yet where other works focus around a blush, a tremble or another virginal attribute (as works by and about Cereta and Fedele), Patrizi’s focus is on Tarquinia’s sex appeal—though he notes that she remains above the advances of her many suitors.

As for the specific exempla that Patrizi chooses, each has its own significance within Platonic philosophy. The title nuova musa informs the entire structure of the first book; and with good reason. The muses play a special role in aligning philosophy with the other disciplines in Plato’s works. Diogenes Laertius (Lives, IV.1) and Pausanias

(Description of Greece, I.30.2) both report that Plato established at the Academy a temenos to the Muses, a fact which J. Dillon takes as evidence of Plato’s efforts to reposition philosophy among the other disciplines:

370 Ibid., 6.

142

…this is part of a move by Plato to claim philosophy as the greatest gift of the Muses, as opposed to all the other arts, and in particular poetry and drama. 371

Dillon cites several relevant passages in support of this theory. Socrates, for instance, refers to philosophy herself as a Muse in the Republic (VI.499D); the Muses also give an oration on the decline of the state in Book VIII (545C). As such, Dillon finds that the

Muses are “patrons…of order and harmony,” in Plato’s works.372 Dillon finds furthermore that the Platonic Muses are “guardians and promoters of good order and moderation in all things,” and that with their help, “a rational and moderate form of any activity or pursuit, whether politics, poetry, rhetoric, drinking, or sex, could be worked out and practiced.”373

Each Muse is in fact associated with the care or moderation of one of these categories. According to Plutarch (9.14), the first three Muses preside over the knowledge of the gods; the last six curb our animal instincts, transforming, for instance, our lust for each other into noble friendship (Erato). Much of this material is drawn from

Plato’s Phaedrus, in which Socrates tells the myth of the cicadas and their relationship to the Muses:

Τερψιχόρᾳ μὲν οὖν τοὺς ἐν τοῖς χοροῖς τετιμηκότας αὐτὴν ἀπαγγέλλοντες ποιοῦσι προσφιλεστέρους, τῇ δὲ Ἐρατοῖ τοὺς ἐν τοῖς ἐρωτικοῖς, καὶ ταῖς ἄλλαις οὕτως, κατὰ τὸ εἶδος ἑκάστης τιμῆς: τῇ δὲ πρεσβυτάτῃ Καλλιόπῃ καὶ τῇ μετ᾽ αὐτὴν Οὐρανίᾳ τοὺς ἐν φιλοσοφίᾳ διάγοντάς τε καὶ τιμῶντας τὴν ἐκείνων μουσικὴν

371 John Dillon, “The Muses in the Platonic Academy,” in The Muses and their Afterlife in Post-Classical Europe, ed. Kathleen W. Christian et al. (London: The Warburg Institute, 2014), 2.

372 Ibid., 2.

373 Ibid., 11.

143

ἀγγέλλουσιν, αἳ δὴ μάλιστα τῶν Μουσῶν περί τε οὐρανὸν καὶ λόγους οὖσαι θείους τεκαὶ ἀνθρωπίνους ἱᾶσιν καλλίστην φωνήν.374

And so they report to Terpsichore those who have honored her with dances and make them dearer to her; to Erato they report those who honor her with erotic matters, and likewise report to the other Muses in accordance with the form that the worship of each takes; and they report those pursuing philosophy and honoring their art to the eldest, Calliope, and after her Urania, who are the most concerned of the Muses with heaven and divine and human thought, and who send forth the most beautiful song.

Patrizi draws on these traits for each of the speeches, choosing a topic appropriate to the realm of each muse and applying it to the praise of Tarquinia. Plutarch’s categories,

Patrizi’s explanation of them in the dialogue, and the resulting topic of each speech is outlined in Table 2:

Associations: Topic of Associations: Muse Plutarch’s Quaestiones Interlocutor’s Patrizi375 Convivales (9.14) Speech Thalia meat and drink; budding Reproduction, eating and Ancestry and of plants drinking childhood Calliope politics; kings Divine things and politics All virtues Clio nobility; praise; honor Elemental things and glory Peace Polyhymnia Knowledge Learning and memory Intelligence Urania Heavens Heavens Graces Euterpe Discourse; nature Natural phenomena Wit Terpsichore Pleasures of eye Pleasures of eye Virtue Melpomene Pleasures of ear Pleasures of ear Music Erato Marriage and Mating and friendship Beauty friendship; love, lust Table 2: Associations of the Muses

374 Plat. Phaedrus 259c-d.

375 See also John Crayton, “Introduction,” in The Philosophy of Love, ed. John Crayton and Daniela Pastina (Xlibris, 2003), 15, for a helpful chart of the Muses’ associations.

144

In addition to these Platonic categories, the muses carry other associations with them. K. Christian has found that the identity of the Muses has been somewhat fluid throughout their reception. As she argues, the Muses are “defined by their ability to inspire others,” and as such, “the identities of the Muses were inherently transferable.”376

In other words, because a Muse generally speaks only through others, acting as a conduit for the knowledge of the male poet, the poet is in control of the Muse’s image and function within the work. This is in spite of the poet’s claim that the Muse is the one in control of the poetic inspiration, the mania that inspires the poet to write or recite. This aspect of the muses’ character is embodied in the dialogue by the fact that Tarquinia never speaks for herself in the dialogue, her words being reported by Patrizi and others.

Tarquinia’s physical absence from the dialogue is significant in another way. As

C. E. L. Guest has argued,

For Patrizi, the Muses are former goddesses of poetry, whose divinity is now extinct, the first poetesses or ways of signaling the faculties of the soul or the sciences. Their role is not to transmit powers to the poet but to stand as objects of invocation who signal the special, fictive nature of poetic speech. 377

This theory is interesting in two ways for Patrizi’s dialogue. First, the reader might expect

Tarquinia to take a passive role in the dialogue by virtue of Patrizi’s theory of the muses.

Second, because the Muses are associated with false speech, especially in poetry, one might expect Tarquinia’s presence as a nuova musa to signal that the speech is in some

376 Kathleen W. Christian, “The Multiplicity of the Muses,” in The Muses and their Afterlife in Post- Classical Europe, ed. Kathleen W. Christian et al. (London” The Warburg Institute, 2014), 104-105.

377 Clare E. L. Guest, “The Growth of the Pygmy Muses,” in The Muses and their Afterlife in Post- Classical Europe, ed. Kathleen W. Christian et al. (London: The Warburg Institute, 2014), 203.

145 way a fiction. This might seem obvious, but the fact that Tarquinia’s speech is reported through several intermediaries, and the fact that her theory of love is represented as entirely original and new, also suggest that the issues of storytelling and invention are of central importance to the work. Indeed, Patrizi himself writes of the ability of the Muses to “refashion the world, and create new things from nothing by storytelling,”378 a skill that Tarquinia certainly masters in the dialogue.

All of these associations remain in the background as the dialogue begins with the encomium to Tarquinia. True to the Platonic nature of the text, Patrizi subdivides the encomium into speeches inspired by each individual Muse and her qualities. The first oration, given by Segonio, a historian, focuses on Tarquinia’s illustrious ancestry, and is inspired by the muse Clio. J.W. Crayton finds this to be an odd choice considering that

Clio is more usually associated with history, and Thalia with Comedy;379 but as Figure 1 illustrates, Thalia is also associated with reproduction in Plutarch’s Quaestiones, making her an appropriate figure for a speech on ancestry and parentage.

The speech is fairly typical in that is focuses on Molza’s exceptionality and her ability to embody both masculine and feminine traits. The speaker begins by insisting that no other woman like Molza exists, for the reason that no other woman has enjoyed the very particular combination of circumstances that led to her initial interest in her studies and ability to continue them— an interesting argument, as other discussions on learned

378 “…rifabricarsi il mondo, con crearsi di nulla cose nuove favoleggiando.” Francesco Patrizi, “Deca Ammirabile,” II. For an edition of this work see Aguzzi Barbagli, Della Poetica (Florence: Istituto Nazionale de Studi sul Rinascimento, 1969-1971), p. 239.

379Crayton, “Introduction,” 14-15.

146 women emphasize the weakness of the female sex as the main factor that excludes most from serious scholarship. He then describes her ancestry and her early education, focusing in particular on her grandfather, the eminent humanist Francesco Maria Molza, who died less than a year after Tarquinia was born. He also touches upon the subject of

Tarquinia’s beauty, commenting on the manly nature of her form and her unparalleled athleticism—apparently Tarquinia could play ball, jump, and even throw axes.380

The next speaker, the philosopher Grilenzone, chooses Euterpe as his Muse, along with Mercury, and explains the association of the god with wit: his winged feet make him as fast as thought. While Patrizi associates Euterpe with natural phenomena, Plutarch mentions that she is associated with discourse, which figures into the speaker’s praise; not only does Tarquinia learn very quickly, she is also able to incorporate new ideas into her discourses extempore. In addition, she is able to play the bass and sing soprano at the same time, manages to learn Greek in three months and quickly masters all of the major

Latin authors.

The next Muse to be invoked is Erato, along with Venus, in a discussion of

Tarquinia’s beauty. There is little concern for modesty here, as the speaker covers her entire body, so to speak, with his descriptions— from her virile leg to her pleasing bosom and smooth forehead. In short, her beauty is divine; yet Tarquinia remains distant from her suitors, providing a moderating influence much like Erato herself. Melpomene, who regulates the pleasures of the ear, inspires the next oration, which centers on Tarquinia’s

380 Patrizi and Nelson, L’Amorosa Filosofia, 14. 147 musicianship; she is able to sight-read even the most difficult music and memorize faster than any man.

The next speaker describes Tarquinia’s dedication to peace under the auspices of

Clio, who is usually associated with nobility and honor, and whom the speaker associates with Mars. This oration reveals that Tarquinia is not disturbed by the demands of fashion and makeup, and never feels hatred; Mars neglected to give her any of his qualities when she was born. In short, Tarquinia is so noble as to be above these things. Terpsichore, usually identified as the moderator of visual pleasure, inspires an oration on Tarquinia’s virtue. No matter how many suitors approach her, she remains chastely disinterested. She is moderate in eating and drinking, never greedy with money, and devoted to her religion.

Thus Terpsichore becomes associated with moderation of all kinds.

Patrizi himself gives the following oration, calling upon Polyhymnia and Saturn for his speech on Tarquinia’s intellect. He describes how the death of Tarquinia’s father left her without a mentor, her subsequent studies as a married woman, and the joy of becoming her teacher. She masters Plato quickly and reveals herself as a “nuova

Diotima,” formulating her own theory of love not simply drawn from ancient authors

(Plato, Plotinus, or Xenophon) but a new philosophy, true and perfect (nuova filosofia vera e perfetta).381 Patrizi describes how she divides love into categories, defines each, and leads each one to a natural conclusion, revealing in the process Patrizi’s own ignorance of a subject he once thought that he knew— it is this conversation that will make up the bulk of the dialogue.

381 Ibid., 65.

148

Urania then inspires an oration on the grace of Tarquinia, endowed by the Graces themselves, who are associated with Urania, and whom the speaker reports accompany her in the heavens: Thalia, Euphrosine, and Aglaia. Every part of Tarquinia’s body is reportedly endowed with their supernatural poise. Finally, Calliope, the eldest muse, inspires the last oration. Though she is usually associated with politics and kings, here

Calliope’s role as the foremost of the Muses is invoked as the speaker, a certain Bishop

Manzuolo, describes how Tarquinia is able to unite the qualities of all nine Muses. 382

Manzuolo first describes the nature of the Muses in general:

…Sortendo elle nome di muse dalla comtemplatione e dal cercamento di intendere la veritá e la essenza delle prime essenze, e dell’altre pendenti dalle prime.383

[They choose] the name of “Muse” from the contemplation and the search for understanding of the truth of the essence of the first essences, and the others which descend from the first.

Thus the Muses are involved in the search for the truth and the fundamental nature of things. Furthermore, he explains how Plato assigned each Muse to a sphere of the world, and reports the duties of each (outlined in Figure 1 above).384 The speaker then demonstrates the need for the involvement of the Muses in each area by referring to the nature of the soul:

…et se le muse sono seconde le due potenze dell’animo nostro derivate, come alcun savio degli antichi ci lasciò in memoria, le quali parti sono principalmente due: l’uno è il connate desiderio del piacere, et l’altra è l’acquistata opinione

382 Ibid., 73.

383 Ibid., L’Amorosa Filosofia, 72.

384 Ibid., L’Amorosa Filosofia, 71-74.

149

dell’ottimo, ciascuna delle quali, di una grande et quasi divina istruttione ha huopo.385

And if the muses are derived from the two powers of our soul, as a certain ancient wise men left us in memory, the two chief parts are these: one, the innate desire for pleasure, and the other, the acquired view of the greatest good. Each of these requires a great, and almost divine, instruction.

This echoes the allegory of the charioteer in Plato’s Phaedrus (246a-d), in which the charioteer struggles to govern his two horses, the one, noble and rational, the other, driven by desire and impulse. The speaker goes on to explain that Tarquinia has been awarded the duties of each Muse. Thus, as “nuova musa,” Tarquinia is set up as a

Platonic force of moderation in all things; thus she is not merely a “new Muse,” but a new kind of Muse more heavily involved in the human world than her ancient predecessors.

In addition to clarifying Molza’s role as a nuova musa, Manzuolo expands on another of her associations in the context of a discussion of her aptitude for Greek, Latin and philosophy:

Et insieme con la lingua havere compreso tutti i nobili sentimenti e dottrine delle Morali et le divine contemplationi del Fedro di Platone con altre cose di altissima filosofia insegnatele dal Patritio nostro qui… si è preso…ad apparare da lei la filosofia amorosa, non altrimenti che Socrate la si apparò dalla Diotima.386

And together with the language she understood all the noble sentiments and doctrines of the Ethics and the divine contemplations of Plato’s Phaedrus along with other things from advanced philosophy which she learned from our Patrizio, who began to learn from her the philosophy of love just as Socrates learned from Diotima.

385 Ibid., 73.

386 Ibid., 25.

150

The comparison has significance beyond Tarquinia’s characterization; as Nelson argues, the parallel invites the reader to compare not only Tarquinia with Diotima, but also

Patrizi with Socrates, the recipient of and mouthpiece for Diotima’s divine knowledge.

Nelson also notes the role reversal of teacher/student in each case, presented perhaps with a touch of irony as Tarquinia easily manages to outfox her former teacher, just as Diotima corrects the master Socrates.387

The comparison has other connotations as well. If Tarquinia is meant to be like

Diotima, we can expect that she has access to divine wisdom as a kind of priestess or

Sibyl; that her femininity is somehow key to her status as an expert on love; and that her words are reported to the group by a male intermediary. We might also expect, by virtue of the modifier “nuova,” that Tarquinia somehow differs from the original Diotima, just as she differs from the original Muses; she is not simply “another” Diotima, or even a

“greater,” Diotima, but a new one. Thus, to understand the role of Tarquinia as “nuova

Diotima” in Patrizi’s dialogue, we must first look back at the original Diotima— both in terms of her character and in terms of the content of her speech as reported by Socrates.

Any discussion of Diotima’s role must emphasize first that the philosophical gatherings in each dialogue are dominated by men. As D. Halperin notes,

Greek symposia, of course, were by definition men’s parties but, as Xenophon’s own Symposium…illustrates, there was plenty of occasion for women to be present at them, though in no very dignified capacity, to put it delicately.388

387 Ibid., x.

388 David Halperin, “Why is Diotima a Woman?” in One Hundred Years of Homosexuality, ed. D. Halperin (New York: Routledge, 1990), 128.

151

In other words, to place Diotima or Tarquinia in the symposium might place them on the level of a flute-girl (at best an entertainer, at worst an object for sexual enjoyment).

Socrates then becomes Diotima’s representative, while Tarquinia’s words are reported by

Patrizi to his friends, who then recount the story for others. The fact that Tarquinia’s voice is obscured by several male intermediaries, rather than just one, seems to have less to do with any concern over Tarquinia’s presence in the work and more to do with the creation of a confusing and complex work, in which characters hear arguments secondhand, respond to each other through endless rounds of telephone, and enter and reappear as their mood strikes.

The fact that Diotima and Tarquinia are women being brought in, however indirectly, to male spaces, has further significance. For D. Halperin, Diotima’s sex is vital to the philosophical content she presents. His work on Diotima argues that her femininity distinguishes her speech from that of the men and serves to illustrate a “doctrine of erotic procreation,”389 in which male lovers engage in correct pederasty culminating not in orgasm, but male pregnancy and birth.390 Tarquinia’s sex holds different significance for

Patrizi’s work. Diotima is arguably a literary creation; any character might have played her part. Tarquinia, however, is the dedicatee of the work, and her presence in the narrative perhaps predetermined. Thus the question becomes not “why is Tarquinia a woman?” but “why does it matter that Tarquinia is woman?” The answer has little to do with the philosophical content of the dialogue—the original Diotima’s procreative and

389 Ibid., 137.

390 Ibid., 140. 152 pederastic love is replaced by discussions of philautia, or self-love. Rather, Tarquinia’s femininity allows for the presentation of her character as a nuova musa and Diotima; thus her knowledge can be portrayed as divine, and more importantly, distinct from that of

Patrizi and the other men, much as Diotima’s is. It also adds a special edge to her triumph over Patrizi in the course of their question and answer session, as Patrizi is dominated by his younger female student.

As women, then, Tarquinia and Diotima are immediately marked as “others” in the context of the philosophical discussion. This is emphasized by the fact that neither woman appears “in the flesh” in the dialogue. Tarquinia and Diotima are not invited, but invoked by the participants. The words of L. Irigaray regarding Socrates’ treatment of

Diotima are thus applicable to both:

[Socrates] borrows [Diotima’s] wisdom and power, declares her his initiator, his pedagogue, on matters of love, but she is not invited to teach or eat.391

In this model, Diotima merely remains on the fringes of the dialogue. In contrast, A. Nye has argued rather sinisterly that Diotima, far from being uninvited, is actually the host of the symposium, in more than one sense of the word:

The root meaning of “host” is a physical body on whose flesh parasites feed. The host is the nourishment they steal and convert to prolong their own dependent existences. The host is a sacrificed animal body offered up to placate heaven. The host is the physical bread the faithful eat at communion to become one with an insubstantial god.392

391 Luce Irigaray, “Sorcerer Love: A Reading of Plato’s Symposium, Diotima’s Speech,” trans. Eleanor H. Kuykendall, in Feminist Interpretations of Plato, ed. Mary Tuana (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994), 181.

392Andrea Nye, “Irigaray and Diotima at Plato’s Symposium,” in Feminist Interpretations of Plato, ed. Mary Tuana (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1994), 197.

153

I would argue that both interpretations can and do coexist; this is the paradox of

Diotima’s existence as a force both vital to and peripheral to the text, both present and absent.

Tarquinia is involved in a similar kind of duality, though it is complicated by the historical truth of Tarquinia’s existence. There are two Tarquinias overseeing the world of the text: the Muse of the dialogue created by Patrizi and the flesh-and-blood Tarquinia to whom the work is dedicated. Patrizi obscures the latter by inserting himself as an intermediary between Tarquinia and the group— a necessary act if Tarquinia is to be invoked as the Muse or Diotima of the work. Her physical presence would tie her to the realm of ordinary people, and allow the multitude access to her physical body. Instead,

Patrizi inserts himself as an intermediary, a supplicant who seeks the advice of the priestess. He recounts his conversation to a friend; this friend in turn reports back to the group. Molza is thus protected (or obscured) by two layers of male intervention; Patrizi’s report of their conversation and Quarengo’s retelling. At the same time, Tarquinia is also more present in the dialogue than Diotima by virtue of her role as a reader of the text.

Diotima may or may not have been a historical figure, and if she was, may not have been the intended readership for the work. By contrast, Tarquinia is invited to interact with and presumably respond to the text. These differences give substance to the title “nuova

Diotima.” Tarquinia is simultaneously more and less mysterious, accessible, and human than her predecessor. She is, in other words, a walking contradiction, even more so than

Diotima is: she is the source and the recipient of the text, the interlocutor and the reader.

154

These trends are significant to our previous discussions regarding the exceptionality of female scholars and the related phenomenon of cataloguing. Though heavily mythologized, she is not obscured by her ancient predecessors in the same way as

Fedele. Fedele is frequently compared to ancient women, but she never earns the title of

“nuova;” Fedele is like Hortensia and Camilla, another figure to be included in the catalogue. In contrast, Tarquinia is presented as a new variety of learned woman and invited to play a new role in the intellectual world of the participants. Though she is a distant figure in the dialogue and somewhat obscured by the other interlocutors, it is her knowledge that informs the interlocutors, allowing her character to surpass the function of a charming novelty. As will be seen, Patrizi questions and challenges his Muse and

Diotima, using praise not as a mechanism of exclusion but inclusion, revealing a new kind of goddess: one who occasionally descends from her pedestal to argue with men.

Book II: The Varieties of Love

Our new Muse first appears in Book II during Quarengo’s report of Patrizi’s conversation. The participants are eager to benefit from Tarquinia’s knowledge; Fuligno reports excitedly that she has discovered an entirely new philosophy of love that will aid those who suffer from excessive passion.393 Quarengo then begins to report the conversation as it was reported to him by Patrizi on an earlier occasion, moving into the context of another frame narrative. Patrizi reports that the conversation took place over several days and was inspired initially by Tarquinia’s beauty; as he contemplates it he becomes distracted from their lesson, moving Tarquinia to ask what he is thinking about.

393 Patrizi and Nelson, L’Amorosa Filosofia, 78. 155

It is here that the dialogue between the two begins. Patrizi explains that he is moved by her beauty to feelings of love, a trait which is common to his sect, the Platonists. This prompts Tarquinia to ask, in feigned confusion—what kind of love? Patrizi is baffled, and answers that he is moved by the only kind of love that exists: the one that Platonists feel throughout their lives. Tarquinia is intrigued, and asks Patrizi to explain love to her.

As the conversation continues, it becomes clear that Tarquinia’s request is not sincere. As Patrizi explains his views, Tarquinia questions him in a Socratic manner, leading him through a series of seemingly simple propositions into a state of confusion and doubt. In this way Tarquinia is similar to Plato’s Diotima, who leads Socrates to the conclusion that Love must be an intermediary between gods and mortals through a series of questions. Tarquinia and Patrizi are also concerned with the nature of love, but ask instead whether it is an essential or accidental quality.

Through Tarquinia’s questioning, they determine that it is accidental. From this, they conclude also that it is not worth very much, a fact which irritates Patrizi, who from the beginning defined love of beauty as an essential part of his Platonism. This prompts the pair to diverge from their argument for a moment:

Patrizi: Ora sì, o signora, che mi ci havete colto; nè vorrei io mai essere hoggi entrato in questo ragionamento, poscia che egli a tanto mio danno è riuscito.

Now, my lady, it seems I am caught. I wish I had not entered into this argument today, seeing as how it has brought such injury to me.394

394 Ibid., 85.

156

Tarquinia claims to wish the same, stating that she regrets revealing her teacher to be a fraud; in reality, this seems to be her goal—elsewhere in the dialogue she delights in the confusion she has brought about:

Tarquinia:

voi mi fate ridere. Mirate, prode platonico fa poi l’arguto. Si vide mai il più grossiere?395

You make me laugh. Behold, the brave Platonist tries to be witty. Have you ever seen anyone more coarse?

Thus the dialogue reveals itself in part to be a game of sophistry. Tarquinia’s methods are taken directly from dialectic (ἔλεγχος), described most humorously in Plato’s Apology

(30e), in which Socrates likens himself to a gadfly (μύωψ) urging the city out of sleep. As in Socrates’ example, Patrizi resents the sting of Tarquinia’s line of questioning even as it urges him to a new understanding of the topic.

This is all very much in keeping with the character of Diotima, who, as Socrates reports, uses the same methods to educate him on love:

δοκεῖ οὖν μοι ῥᾷστον εἶναι οὕτω διελθεῖν, ὥς ποτέ με ἡ ξένη ἀνακρίνουσα διῄει.396

It seems best and easiest to me to proceed just as that strange woman did when she went about questioning me.

Just as Patrizi begins with his own definition of love, so too does Socrates: love is a good and beautiful god (ἀγαθὸς and καλὸς). Diotima disagrees, and leads him into a discussion of opposites, establishing that there is always middle ground between them and finally

395 Ibid., 87.

396 Plato Sym. 201e

157 placing love in this space. Just as Tarquinia does, Diotima then leads Socrates further into confusion, concluding by his answers that Love is not a god at all— despite the fact that

Socrates still believes this to be true, even as his answers indicate that his true belief lies elsewhere. Tarquinia and Patrizi will become involved in similar games by the end of the dialogue.

The second half of the second dialogue, however, becomes less confrontational as the participants move on to more specific questions about love. Tarquinia and Patrizi explore different examples of love between humans and even animals and eventually conclude that love in its most basic form is a state of “well-wishing” (un voler bene),397 dividing it further into three categories: well-wishing towards the self, towards others, and towards both. Tarquinia briefly mentions the possibility of dividing love into four smaller categories drawn from Plutarch: natural, familiar, friendly, and erotic (φυσικόν,

συγγενικόν, ἑταιρικόν, ἐρωτικόν)398 but declares that she is tired, leaving it to Patrizi to reduce the types of love they have discussed into the four categories as a kind of homework assignment. In this moment it is clear that the student has become the teacher; it is Tarquinia who chooses when to end the lesson and how to proceed the next day. As for Patrizi, the interlocutor Quarengo states that he remains lost in a state of confusion

397 Patrizi and Nelson, L’Amorosa Filosofia, 97.

398 Ibid., 97. Patrizi seems to draw the four types from Plutarch’s Amatorius 16:

εἰ τέσσαρα γένη τῆς φιλίας ἐχούσης, ὥσπερ οἱ παλαιοὶ διώρισαν, τὸ φυσικὸν πρῶτον εἶτα τὸ συγγενικὸν ἐπὶ τούτῳ καὶ τρίτον τὸ ἑταιρικὸν καὶ τελευταῖον τὸ ἐρωτικόν.

(…Since there are four types of affection, just as the ancients divide it: first, the natural, then the familiar, then add to this a third, the friendly, and finally the erotic.)

158 over Tarquinia’s arguments for the rest of the day, wondering how Tarquinia could have exposed him to so much material never before seen in any of his books.

Book III: The Categories of Love

The third dialogue begins with an evaluation of Tarquinia’s methods as seen in the second dialogue. Though the participants do not specifically mention the methods of

Plato or Socrates, they identify certain Platonic or Socratic elements in her methodology, as demonstrated here by Quarengo:

Et vedrete come da lo universalissimo dello amor cominciando, si è venuta sempre a’ suoi minori generi ristringendo e tutte le sue spetie ritrovando et i suoi luoghi per ordine diponendo.399

And as you can see she begins with the most universal aspects of love, constantly narrowing it down into smaller categories, finding and ordering all its types and locations.

This method, proceeding from universal to general and dividing concepts into smaller and smaller categories has been described as a “geometrical iteration” of Platonic dialectic by M. Lamarre, who refers us to Plato’s Republic (6.509d) in which Plato uses the image of a divided line to describe the hierarchies of perception.400

This method is seemingly new to Patrizi, however, who spends the better part of the night struggling with his homework assignment. The next morning, Patrizi studies the

Phaedrus before joining Tarquinia for a walk. Note that Patrizi does not read the

Symposium, the work upon which his dialogues are presumably based (given the

399 Patrizi and Nelson, L’Amorosa Filosofia, 99.

400 Mark Lamarre, "Plato's Method of Dialectic According to Plato," Academia.edu, 2015. Accessed August 20, 2015.

159 reference to Diotima), but the Phaedrus, which, though it is partially concerned with love, broaches many other topics, including rhetoric. The significance of this choice will become clear in the next dialogue.

We return then to a conversation between Tarquinia and Patrizi that begins with a discussion of the four categories defined previously by Tarquinia. Patrizi gives examples of each (pp. 100-101), describing natural love as the instinct which leads animals to mate, or crops to want the rain; familial love as the bond between sisters and brothers, etc.; friendly love as well-wishing towards others, including benevolence and charity; and finally erotic love, upon which Patrizi does not comment, stating that this category is obvious. There is one love, however, that defies the four categories: self-love, or philautia. To Patrizi’s dismay, Tarquinia insists that all types of love in fact can be traced back to this love of the self.

In her first example, she asks Patrizi to consider the nature of charity, which we feel towards God and our neighbors. Through this discussion the pair determines that we love only what is good; and by the same logic, that whatever holds the most good is also the most lovable. To support her arguments, Tarquinia quotes a passage of Plato (in

Latin) which Patrizi recognizes as the Timaeus:

Rerum author…bonus erat. Bonus autem nulla unquam aliqua de re invidia tangitur. Ergo cum livor ab eo alienissimus esset, omnia sibi quantum fieri poterant, simillima fieri voluit. Si quis hanc gignendi mundi causam precipuam a prudentibus viris acceperit, rectissime profecto accipiet.401

401 Patrizi and Nelson, L’Amorosa Filosofia, 107. Nelson identifies this passage as Ficino’s translation of Timaeus 29e (107 n1):

ἀγαθὸς ἦν, ἀγαθῷ δὲ οὐδεὶς περὶ οὐδενὸς οὐδέποτε ἐγγίγνεται φθόνος: τούτου δ᾽ ἐκτὸς ὢν πάντα ὅτι μάλιστα ἐβουλήθη γενέσθαι παραπλήσια ἑαυτῷ. ταύτην δὴ γενέσεως καὶ κόσμου μάλιστ᾽ ἄν τις ἀρχὴν κυριωτάτην. 160

The creator of things was good. And since good is never influenced in any regard by envy, envy was therefore most foreign to him; and he wished to make everything as similar to himself as possible. If anyone learns from sensible men that this is the first cause of creation and the world, he will learn very rightly.

Tarquinia develops upon this idea of God’s goodness as related to the act of creation, arguing that goodness must give of itself in order to remain good; to refuse to create anything would be an act of selfishness. Therefore our love of God’s goodness is also a love for his creations, which allow us to be alive. This love can thus be called self-love, in that we benefit from God’s goodness.

God, too, is subject to this kind of self-love, as Tarquinia explains with another reference to Plato:

Et se noi dessimmo orecchie a’ poeti, i dei fecero gli huomini perchè fusse in terra chi loro sacrificasse, chi lor drizasse altari, accendesse incense, chi lor porgesse prieghi, et in fine chi gli adorasse et honorasse. Et da questo non è lontano il vostro Platone nella oration mystica di Aristofane e nella favola dello androgino.402

And if we were to give our ears to the poets, the gods made humans so that there would be someone on earth to sacrifice to them, adorn their altars, burn incense, send up prayers, and finally adore and honor them. And your Plato is not far from this in the mysterious oration of Aristophanes and his fable of the Androgyne.

Tarquinia refers to the myth presented in Plato’s Symposium 189c, in which the first humanoids, joined in pairs of male-male, male-female, or female-female, are forcibly separated by the gods for their hubris. The reason for this punishment is as Tarquinia

Note that the English edition of this work by Pastina and Crayton includes an erroneous translation seemingly based on the next section of the Timaeus.

402 Patrizi and Nelson, L’Amorosa Filosofia, 111.

161 says; if the gods were to destroy them entirely, “αἱ τιμαὶ γὰρ αὐτοῖς καὶ ἱερὰ τὰ παρὰ τῶν

ἀνθρώπων ἠφανίζετο,”403 “the honors and sacrifices of the humans would be lost to them.”

This is a somewhat cynical view of God’s love; but Tarquinia’s view of humanity’s love for God is equally so. As she argues, our desire to be and do good is motivated primarily by our wish to unite with God after death. This too is governed by a

Platonic principle: che toccare il puro non lece con lo impuro,404 “that it is not permitted for the pure to touch the impure.” Tarquinia may be thinking of Plato’s Parmenides, which develops on the idea that the pure Forms cannot have contradictory properties; impure things having multiple properties belong to the sensible world (1283-130c; 137c-

138b).

The pair then trace several other types of love back to philautia: friendship, the bonds between parents and children, and the intellectual attraction between wise people.

They define in these types of love also another kind of self-preservation; by cultivating these relationships, we help those who are like us succeed, and this gives us pleasure.

Characteristically, Tarquinia defines this vicarious self-preservation by dividing it into four levels drawn, as Nelson finds, from the philosophy of Nicolas of Cusa, as well as some principles of Plato. The four levels rely on the similarity or difference of the parties involved. The first level is identity, in which we love and wish to preserve ourselves; then comes similarity, in which we preserve and love those who are similar to us, such as

403 Plat. Sym. 190c

404Patrizi and Nelson, L’Amorosa Filosofia, 115.

162 friends and relatives. Next comes diversity or dissimilarity, the level at which Tarquinia finds “il fine della conservation et il fine parimente dello amore, et principio della corrottione e dell’odio,”405 “the end of conservation and equally of love, and the beginning of corruption and hate.” Here Tarquinia references a principle once more drawn seemingly from the Parmenides, and which Patrizi recognizes as either Platonic or

Pythagorean:

…serbando il dissimile in alcuna parte tanto di debole simiglianza et in altra un debole principio di diversità. Et è quasi misto egualmente de identità et alterità, et confuso dello stesso e dell’altro.406

…Dissimilitude maintains in some part a very weak similarity and in another part a weak principle of diversity. And so it is an equal mix of identity and otherness; a confusion of the same and the different.

Beyond this rather paradoxical level lies what is comprised of things completely foreign to oneself, and as such is the furthest from love and preservation— the fourth and final level.

Tarquinia applies these categories in her discussion of familial love, explaining that we love our siblings and children because they resemble us and because we desire their aid. Included in the discussion is a brief aside on the status of women in such relationships. As Tarquinia explains,

E perciò che la speranza dello aiuto minore è nelle femmine, o figliuole o sorelle che sieno, et perchè passano co’ maritaggi ad alter famiglie et ad immortalare altrui nome, lo amore verso loro è molto minore che verso i maschi.407

405 Ibid., 122.

406 Ibid., 122.

407 Ibid., 128. 163

Inasmuch as there is much less hope of help from women, whether daughter or sister, and because they pass with marriage to another family and memorialize another’s name, our love towards them is much less than towards men.

Tarquinia goes on to state that spousal love is based on the hope for gain, and that this is why men desire certain women as wives as opposed to others. It is a cynical view of marital love, and an ironic one considering that Tarquinia’s own husband appears as a player in their discussion on love— though he never responds to this particular claim.

The dialogue ends soon after, with Tarquinia reaffirming philautia as the source of all love and then declaring that she is tired.

Book IV: A Sophistic Twist

The fourth dialogue diverges from the frame narrative that surrounds the other books. This time, Quarengo reports that Patrizi and Tarquinia were distracted from their earlier discussion by music and spent the next day singing and playing together. A few days later, Patrizi returns to study the Phaedrus with her; but this time, it is Patrizi who takes control of the conversation afterward by reporting a conversation that he had with

Tarquinia’s husband Paolo. Paolo scoffs when Patrizi tells him of his wife’s arguments and insists that there are many kinds of love that cannot be attributed to self-love. This leaves Patrizi in a state of confusion which Tarquinia promises to clear up.

At her request Patrizi recounts the counter-arguments of Paolo. I summarize these here:

1. Wives sometimes commit suicide after their husbands’ deaths.

2. Servants often sacrifice their lives or harm themselves for a beloved master.

3. Friends lose their fortunes trying to help each other.

164

4. Patrizi himself endured poverty in order to help his nephews, only for his

nephews to return and rob him.

5. Countless other friends and lovers have died and suffered in the service of

their loved one without any expectation of reward.

Patrizi accepts Paolo’s arguments as the new truth; yet Tarquinia laughs openly at him for changing his mind so easily.

At this point a third interlocutor enters, Giulio Guarini, who is amused at the scene before him:

Strana divisa veggo io ne’vostro visi, o signora, poi che io veggo ridere voi, et il Patritio starsi anzi confuso che no, e smarrito.408

I see a strange look on your face, lady, for I see you laugh, whereas Patrizio is very confused and lost indeed.

It is clear in this moment that Tarquinia and her husband have been toying with Patrizi.

He is caught in between two Sophists who are so skilled as to change his stance twice on an issue about which he once felt most confident; and at that, it all began with

Tarquinia’s plea for help on the matter!

The game does not end there, however. Aware that she is about to be caught, she turns the tables on Patrizi once more:

Voi per certo, O Patritio, col vostro tanto peregrinare per lo mondo vi siete assottigliato lo intelletto de maniera che vi pare di potere beffare sicuramente tutti.409

It appears that you have made your intellect so subtle as to make a complete mockery of everyone with your great wanderings through the world, Patrizio.

408 Ibid., 140.

409 Ibid., 141.

165

Here Tarquinia reframes Patrizi as the mastermind; but he remains completely confused.

It is the final straw for him, and he begs Tarquinia to admit that he is being played the fool, not she. Yet she continues to tie him in knots. She accuses him of flip-flopping in order to make fun of both her and her husband, feigning belief in both of their arguments in order to confuse or undermine them.

This is a move taken straight from the playbook of the Sophists as described by

Aristophanes. As father Strepsiades greets his son he excitedly imagines what he has learned from Socrates, with one lesson in particular standing out for our purposes. He states that he has learned

… δοκεῖν ἀδικοῦντ᾽ ἀδικεῖσθαι καὶ κακουργοῦντ᾽ οἶδ᾽ ὅτι.410

…to make it seem that you are being wronged When it is you who are harming and doing injustice, as I well know.

If we can presume from these examples that Tarquinia and her husband are acting like sophists in the negative sense of the word, Aristophanes’ work can yield a few other clues about their intent. The character Ἄδικος Λόγος, “Unjust Speech,”—as good a model as any for Tarquinia and Paolo’s rhetorical torture— explains a point of pride among the sophists:

καὶ τοῦτο πλεῖν ἢ μυρίων ἔστ᾽ ἄξιον στατήρων, αἱρούμενον τοὺς ἥττονας λόγους ἔπειτα νικᾶν.411

And it is worth more than ten thousand staters

410 Arist. Cl. 1174-5.

411Arist. Cl. 1041-1042. 166

To be victorious while speaking the weaker argument.

Tarquinia and her husband thus seem to be complicit in some kind of contest involving

Patrizi, perhaps competing to see who can succeed in convincing him of their views

(whether sincere or not) on love. If their games are indeed inspired by the sophists, to convince him of an unsatisfying argument would mean a sweeter victory.

The sophistic games of Tarquinia and her husband mark a turning point in the dialogue. The discussion of the nature of love gives way to a new round of Socratic questioning, this time geared towards getting Patrizi to admit to making fun of Tarquinia and her husband. Patrizi is smart enough now at least to avoid answering her questions, however, and accuses her continually of making a fool out of him. His reluctance causes

Tarquinia to change her tactics. She coaxes him, asks him not to be upset, and begins a new line of questioning seemingly unrelated to the previous debate on Patrizi’s intent.

She asks instead whether words or money are dearer to men; Patrizi answers, “money.”

She then asks whether money or life is dearer to a wise man; Patrizi replies “life.” This opens up a new debate on the reasons that soldiers are willing to go to war for very little pay; but the dialogue ends abruptly in the middle of this question. It is unclear where

Tarquinia is leading her prey, but surely it must be into more confusion.

A dialogue on love, then, has diverged into a sophistic contest between three parties. This is not entirely unexpected given the text that Patrizi and Tarquinia are reading at the beginning of the fourth dialogue, the moment in which the debate changes course. It is not the Symposium, but the Phaedrus, which has special significance according to Crayton:

167

Plato’s Phaedrus, which begins as discussion of love, turns abruptly into a dialogue on rhetoric… 412

Similarly, Patrizi’s dialogue begins ostensibly as a discussion of love based on the

Symposium, yet by the end Patrizi has become a “hapless victim of Sophistic logic,”413 as

Crayton calls him. Thus the reader is in the same position as Patrizi’s character as the victim of a bait and switch that never allows for a resolution (as the unfinished text stands) to the initial question. We, too, are lead to believe that the discussion of love is sincere and that the format will follow a different work of Plato, in part by the characterization of Tarquinia accomplished in the first book of the dialogue.

Tarquinia’s role as a nuova musa and nuova Diotima thus becomes quite confused by the end of the work. She is shown to act not as a force of regulation, as a Platonic

Muse should, but a force of confusion, destabilizing Patrizi’s understanding of the issue at hand and perhaps even his understanding of knowledge as a whole— he is so easily moved by their arguments that, as Crayton implies, rhetoric becomes more important than objective knowledge in their debate. Her line of questioning, though similar to

Diotima’s, thus takes on a mischievous quality. Diotima undermines Socrates’ understanding of the issue using Socratic questioning only to rebuild it with a story about the origins of love. Tarquinia begins the process of rebuilding only to be upset by her husband’s efforts, at which point she returns to the process of upsetting Patrizi’s understanding. Her motives are more in keeping, then, with the negative portrayals of

412 Crayton, “Introduction,” 23.

413 Ibid. 168

Sophists found in Aristophanes’ Clouds than with the form of elenchus found in the

Symposium.

What does this mean for the real Tarquinia, the dedicatee of the work? She begins the dialogue as an exceptional goddess and ends it as a master Sophist. She is portrayed as a force of regulation and a source of divine knowledge only to be revealed as a trickster. Why feature the recipient of the work in such a fall from grace? I argue that the humor involved in such a transition is in fact a mark of Tarquinia’s inclusion in Patrizi’s world. No other learned woman featured in this work has so far been involved in a joke; the sensibilities of the decus Virgo have thus far been deemed too sensitive for such treatment. This is perhaps why Cereta’s own dialogue had such a mixed reception; there was no space for a female-driven work to be so irreverent and humorous. Ironically, though her audience could not laugh with her, they could not, it seems, take her seriously, either. Laughter, then, can be a mechanism for exclusion and inclusion, depending on who is doing the laughing and who is inspiring it, who is laughing together and who is left out. Tarquinia is the one laughing in the end, and at her teacher, no less, making this the ultimate sign of initiation into an equal relationship with Patrizi.

Thus Tarquinia emerges not as a nuova musa or nuova Diotima, but a nuova donna, a new type of woman. She is witty and quick on her feet; well versed in the texts and tactics of the sophists; and ready to deploy her skills on unwitting victims. This type of courtly repartee is perhaps not uncommon among elite women; but Tarquinia’s specifically Socratic methods, and the framing of the work as a new Symposium (however misleading that initial designation may be) suggest that Tarquinia is being invited into

169 what was once a male space. Once there, she manages to dupe her own teacher, perhaps in a contest with her own husband.

Thus we see a new response to the tradition of exempla and the practice of cataloguing women. Though she stands alone as “l’Unica”, the only woman of her kind,

Tarquinia’s character is presented as an equal among her peers, nothing more nor less than a scholar who deserves an honest intellectual response to her arguments. The traditions of the exempla are thus used not to delimit her sphere of influence or her level of involvement in the dialogue, but to create false expectations for such limits, as if the audience is being invited to stereotype, and then rethink, her character. Within this framework, she is undeniably identified as unique among women, but instead of being left in a no-man’s-land between the two sexes, she is initiated into the world of male arguments and contests of rhetoric through a humorous dedicatory text.

170

CHAPTER 5: UN GRAN MIRACOL

SUOR CLEMENZA NINCI (17TH CENTURY)

Suor Clemenza Ninci’s five-act play, Lo Sposalizio d’Iparchia Filosofa, “The

Marriage of Hipparchia, Lady Philosopher,” offers a new perspective on the role of

Classical exempla in the lives of early modern women. Thus far the women in this study have been engaged in secular works; Ninci’s play, in contrast, was performed and viewed in a context which demanded a different approach to the pagan exemplum. Separated from the outside world, often by necessity or even by force, the sisters at Ninci’s convent of San Michele in Prato used theatrical productions such as this as an opportunity for contact with the surrounding community and as a way of exploring models for their own way of life, usually through representations of sacred stories.

The form and subject matter of these convent dramas drew from a variety of sacred and secular sources to create a new genre in theater: the commedia sacra, sacred comedy, influenced by the works of Seneca, Plautus and Terence. As Weaver explains:

A distinguishing feature of the new theatrical genre…is its interweaving of sacred and profane elements with nearly equal stress and in the forms and modes of classical theater. The commedia sacra’s typical double plot, generally comic in secular scenes and serious in religious ones, portrays a morally edifying story,

171

whose characters are saintly, noble and heroic, which it combines with a humorous, or at least so-intended, secondary plot, of jokes and pranks, by and among the servants. The subplot is sometimes of such length and emphasis that it vies with the main story for central importance.414

This is a particularly important point for any reading of Ninci’s play, given that neither of the plotlines featured is explicitly sacred. The marriage of Hipparchia, though edifying in a moral and philosophical sense, is after all a pagan and largely secular story; when religion is mentioned, it is usually in reference to multiple gods. This story is juxtaposed with a more typical comedy, a tale of two lovers, a prince and princess, separated by their warring parents and reunited through a series of clever twists worthy of Plautus or

Terence. As is typical for the genre, the stories are only loosely related, both reflecting on the nature and difficulties of courtship, separation and marriage, though it is possible that the now-missing prologue and epilogue labeled, respectively, “Infidelity” and “Fidelity,” might have provided a more explicit connection.

This play is at first glance unusual in its use of a pagan story to fill the space usually reserved for a sacred story; yet Hipparchia’s marriage to a pagan philosopher will be shown to hold special significance for Ninci’s audience. In Ninci’s retelling,

Hipparchia’s character struggles with problems highly relevant to an audience of primarily cloistered women. Orphaned as a young girl and now pressured to marry by her brother, she chooses as her husband the philosopher Crates, a man devoted to an unconventional life of self-denial; after taking her vows, she follows his lifestyle, sacrificing her family and effacing her femininity in order to practice his philosophy.

414 Weaver, “Spiritual Fun,” 183.

172

The contours of this story are remarkably similar to the process of taking the veil, which was an increasingly common fate for unmarriageable young women in the 16th and

17th centuries. It is perhaps for this very reason that nuns were encouraged to view Christ as their husband, as if taking the veil replaced the usual milestone of marriage; and more generally, love between humans and God has often been conveyed through erotic imagery, as Weaver notes of the Song of Songs and Love of Virtue.415 Hipparchia’s marriage to the persecuted, ascetic, and in some ways Christ-like Crates, then, could be viewed as such a symbolic marriage, being based on continence, love of learning and the pursuit of virtue.

Hipparchia thus emerges for the purposes of this work as a new type of exemplum: a pagan woman extracted from the catalogue as a model for a religious life.

Rather than relying solely on the existing traditions of Hipparchia, Ninci creates a new version of the woman tailored to the needs of her audience, primarily by placing her in the context of a Christianized form of her school of philosophy, Cynicism. Ninci rebuilds this philosophy by appealing only to certain useful elements, all but erasing the tradition of Crates’ shamelessness (in particular his use of the body to generate disgust) and emphasizing instead the Cynic’s asceticism, his ability to find pleasure and pain and vice versa, and most importantly, his resulting exemption from the rise and fall of fortune.

These factors, and the personality with which Ninci endows her Hipparchia, implicitly argue for the ability of women to determine their own fates; and by extension, to re- determine the meaning of the exempla upon which they rely.

415 Ibid., 188.

173

Texts and Contexts: Lo Sposalizio D’Iparchia Filosofa

Cesare Guasti, the first to publish any part of the text, dates the play to the second half of the 17th century and labels it a comedy, noting the presence of several stock characters: the servants, the nurse, etc. He notes that it was not uncommon to find such

“libri mondani” within the convents of Prato at the time, citing several other examples of secular literature, some even inspired by Classical authors.416 The manuscript of the play includes a cast list which places the author herself in the role of Orlando, a learned but slightly mad astronomer. This perhaps suggests that Ninci was the novice mistress of the convent; Weaver notes that many of the comedies in her study were written by the maestra for performance by the novices and their mistress for the rest of the sisters.417 As for other details of staging and performance, the manuscript contains only a few general stage directions (the speaker walks in circles or paces, for instance). Other convent performances seem to have involved painted scenery, curtains and costumes, sometimes made in-house or borrowed from the outside; two plays of the later 16th century in fact feature debates over the appropriateness of nuns donning male clothing, weapons and such extravagancies as fringes and tight breeches in their performances.418

Ninci’s work relies on Medieval and Renaissance traditions of Cynicism. In general, this philosophy continued to be studied in the medieval period through Latin authors such as Cicero, Seneca, Macrobius, Jerome and Augustus, and through

416 Guasti, Calendario Pratese del 1850: Anno V (Prato: 1849), 59-60.

417 See Elissa B. Weaver, Convent Theater, 66.

418 Weaver, “Spiritual Fun,” 179-182.

174 translations of an Arabic source containing several sayings of Diogenes.419 In the humanist period Latin translations of Diogenes Laertius’ Lives (by Traversari) and

Plutarch’s Moralia (in an Aldine edition) became available. In addition, collections of letters falsely attributed to both Diogenes and Crates were printed throughout the late

15th-early 16th centuries.420

As M. Billerbeck has argued, Christian humanists generally overlooked the immodesty and indecency of the Cynics as represented in many of these sources, emphasizing instead their poverty, asceticism and devotion to philosophy. Cynic philosophers, in fact, were often compared to monks in this regard, as S. Matton notes, from Julian’s association of the philosophers with the anchorites to Piero Valeriano’s positive take on the dog-like nature of Diogenes, which he likens to early teachers of

Christianity.421 Billerbeck argues that Julian “ascribes to Cynicism a sublime character and surrounds it with an almost religious aura,”422 noting that the shamelessness of the

Cynics was often suppressed in favor of their more positive traits, in particular their austerity, freedom of speech and contempt for the human body. Often these traits were exaggerated to the point that Cynics were viewed as abstaining entirely from good food or sexual intercourse, despite the prominence of the latter element in Cynic lore— most

419 See S. Matton, “Cynicism and Christianity from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance,” in The Cynics, ed. R. Bracht Branham and Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1996), 240.

420See James Hankins and Ada Palmer, The Recovery of Ancient Philosophy in the Renaissance: A Brief Guide (Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 2008), 8-9.

421Matton, “Cynicism and Christianity,” 254.

422M. Billerbeck, “The Ideal Cynic: From Epictetus to Julian,” in The Cynics, ed. R. Bracht Branham and Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1996), 205.

175 relevantly in Hipparchia’s public consummation of her marriage to Crates as reported by

Apuleius.423

This trend continues with Ninci. Though she had many details of Crates’ life available to her, she tends to focus on knowledge, poverty and lack of self-care in her portrayal of him, avoiding lurid details like the story above. The details of his and

Hipparchia’s lives were mostly likely drawn from an Italian adaptation of Diogenes

Laertius’ Lives of Eminent Philosophers. Hillman has demonstrated convincingly that many of the variations on the lives of Crates and Hipparchia present in Ninci’s version can be traced to Alfonsi’s Delle Vite de’Filosofi di Diogene Laerzio, published in Venice in 1606 and 1611,424 which paraphrases and expands upon the stories presented in the original source. Ninci draws several details from this source, such as the suggestion that

Crates’ own daughter received her dowry from a public fund due to her father’s poverty, sometimes using phrases almost identical to Astolfi’s.425 Ninci’s story, however, deviates from Astolfi in several significant ways. An examination of these moments of difference will reveal that, in adapting the text specifically for the stage, Ninci introduces new elements of irony, suspense and pathos to appeal to her audience while omitting scenes inappropriate for the setting of the convent.

Astolfi, for instance, follows Diogenes Laertius in relating that Hipparchia’s parents urged Crates to dissuade her from marrying him. Famously, he attempts to do so

423 Apuleius Florida XIV.6

424 Hillman, “Lo Sposalizio d’Iparchia Filosofa,” 157.

425 Ibid., 157-158.

176 by exposing his naked, aging body and proclaiming, “questa è la dote,” “this is your dowry,” as Astolfi retells it.426 Ninci avoids this scene entirely by introducing several changes into the narrative which also serve to heighten the drama and simplify the story’s casting and staging. For instance, the first act of the play reveals that Ninci’s Hipparchia is an orphan; consequently, Metrocles, her brother, takes the lead in Hipparchia’s marriage negotiations. This leads to several scenes in which Metrocles and Hipparchia, or

Metrocles and Crates, digress into philosophical discussions. As in Astolfi’s version,

Hipparchia is reluctant to marry; however, it is not clear to Metrocles that she has resolved to take Crates as a spouse. As Metrocles insists that he can find someone worthy of her, she answers, “Un sol in questo mondo/ricetto è di virtù e sapienza,”427 “There is only one in the world who has received such virtue and wisdom.” Metrocles dismisses her, not knowing who she means, and in fact asks Crates himself in the next scene to persuade Hipparchia to choose a husband. Such changes introduce an element of dramatic irony to Crates’ interactions with Hipparchia and a potential source of misunderstanding between Metrocles and Crates, whose plans backfire extraordinarily.

Hillman and Guasti identify one other potential source, Pierre Petit’s 1676

Cynogamia, sive de Cratetis et Hypparches Amoribus.428 This version, written in Latin verse, seems to have a closer relationship with the original Greek text of Diogenes

426 Felice Astolfi, Delle Vite de’Filosofi di Diogene Laerzio (Venice: G. Perchacino, 1606 and 1611) 100. I cite the page numbers of the online edition due to inconsistencies in the foliation of the original. https://books.google.com/books?id=ekw75bOEoRsC&pg=PP5&lpg=PP5&dq=astolfi+vite&source=bl&ots =2p03FBLa__&sig=OdxUTMDafSrOOcjYcMyfNGNOfCg&hl=en&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiVgcKwo6zK AhVGWD4KHTV9A40Q6AEIKzAD#v=onepage&q=astolfi%20vite&f=false

427 Clemenza Ninci, Sposalizio d’Iparchia Filosofa, I.1, 52-53.

428Pierre Petit, Cynogamia, sive de Cratetis et Hypparchiae Amoribus (Paris: Andreas Cramoisy, 1676). 177

Laertius. The author in fact quotes several lines of the Greek original and translates them into Latin in his introduction,429 and includes brief references to Arrian and Clement of

Alexandria.

There are several oppositions that reoccur throughout Ninci’s play, most of which center around the conflict between the need to gratify the body and the desire to uplift the mind or the soul. This conflict is expressed through the alternatives presented to

Hipparchia: marriage or a life of learning; the physical pleasure of love or the intellectual pleasure of books; the gratification of the self in the moment, or the triumph of the will over the body, and in turn, over Fortune herself. Ninci’s Cycnism, though never explicitly named as such, revolves around these two related concepts: the perception of pain and pleasure and the conflict between fortune and free will. By training themselves in the ability to feel pleasure in pain, Ninci’s Cynics escape the pitfalls of fortune and are able to proceed on a path towards “eternal joy,” in the presence of Jove himself, a clear parallel for the Christian concepts of salvation and the afterlife.

This is especially significant for Hipparchia’s character. By applying these concepts to her own life she prepares herself to become the spouse of Crates, creating a third option for herself in between the usual alternatives of conventional marriage or celibacy. Yet her transformation into the ideal Cynical spouse is not complete until she sheds her feminine dress in order to follow Crates’ lifestyle, and furthermore cuts ties with her brother, the only remaining link to her former family— and the only remaining

429Petit, Cynogamia, 6-7. I cite the page numbers of the online edition due to the lack of consistent foliation in the original. The passage quoted is taken from Diogenes Laertius, Hipparchia, 96, in which the author describes Hipparchia’s love for Crates’ doctrines. 178 obstacle to her departure with Crates. This transition that there is something fundamentally incompatible in the pairing of femininity with philosophy. Hipparchia’s marriage is then an incomplete victory, for it is only through her alliance with Crates that she is able to attain a modicum of freedom in the face of the expectation that she marry.

Even when Hipparchia marries and becomes Crates’ equal in appearance and training, she is still said to follow in his footsteps, an outcome that sets the limit for the increased agency that Ninci builds into her vision of Cynicism.

Pain and Pleasure

Ninci’s understanding of Cynicism revolves largely around the dichotomy of pain/pleasure. What sets the Cynic apart from others is her ability to experience pain as pleasure, and pleasure as pain. Only Crates and Hipparchia display this tendency throughout the play, although they mention others who practice a perverted form of it— finding pleasure in others’ pain, and vice versa. The Cynic, by contrast, can feel pain at others’ suffering even as he enjoys his own. Through this system, the Cynic is able to escape the fluctuations of fortune, essentially training for adversity by living a simple and ascetic life, and thereby reducing the potential for fortune to do any real damage to one’s conditions.

Hipparchia’s character alludes to this trend in the first scene of the play as she explains her reluctance to marry, saying:

Solo i libri apportano al mio sen diletto e gioia, n’involano la noia, e finalmente, son di tal virtude che per mezzo di quei ottengo di me stessa ogni vittoria. 179

Non ambisco d el mondo altri piaceri. Non amo, e poco prezzo esser amata, ritrovando da savi essere scritto amore è di virtù fiero inimico.430

Only books bring my mind delight and joy and relieve my boredom, and finally, they are of such virtue that through them I obtain every victory over myself. I desire none of the other pleasures of this world; I do not love, and consider being loved of little worth, finding that wise men have written that love is a fierce enemy of virtue.

The Cynic aversion to pleasure becomes clear in Hipparchia’s lack of desire for anything beyond her books, and in her use of them to obtain “victory over herself,” a phrase adapted from Astolfi, who says of Hipparchia, “ella superò ogni difficoltà, vinse ogni tedio, e hebbe vittoria de’sensi suoi,” “she conquered every difficulty, overcame all boredom, and obtained victory over her senses.”431 This victory sets up another dichotomy related to the opposing forces of pleasure and pain: the struggle between the mind and the body for supremacy, between bodily appetites and virtue.

This opposition in turn influences the way in which Hipparchia views marriage.

For Hipparchia, even marital love is opposed to the life of the mind because it is connected with the body, as she explains here:

E come potrò mai gli amati studi l’assar per introdur novelli spassi dentro il mio cor, cui sempre sì tranquillo

430 Ninci, Sposalizio, I.1, 24-32. My transcription of this text is included in Appendix I. All translations are mine.

431 Astolfi, Delle Vite de’Filosofi, 99.

180

è vissuto fin hor; adunque devo la strada aprir ad inimiche squadre d’appetiti noiosi di pensieri tediosi, emuli alla mia quiete, alla mia pace?432

And how could I ever set aside my beloved studies to introduce new amusements to my heart, which has always been tranquil up until now? Should I then open the way to enemy squadrons of dull appetites and tedious thoughts, the rivals of my quiet, and my peace?

The passage is laden with sexual imagery and suggestion in the form of the novelli spassi,

“new amusements,” and the appetiti, “appetites” which would distract the young girl; and in particular in the sexually charged metaphor of the “open way,” which would allow the entrance of unwanted thoughts and desires. Hipparchia’s desire to remain closed off from these influences thus corresponds with her wish to remain an unmarried virgin.

The themes introduced in this scene are expanded in the discussion of Metrocles and Crates in Act I.5. Metrocles asks Crates to persuade Hipparchia to marry, an odd choice considering the Cynic disinclination towards such entanglements. Crates replies with an explanation of the philosophy behind Hipparchia’s actions, elaborating on the conflict between marriage and the intellectual life through his discussion of pleasure and pain:

Non dei maravigliarti, amico caro, e molto men turbarti, se Iparchia gentil’, di te Sorella, disprezza e tien per vili e mondani Diletti.

432 Ninci, Sposalizio, I.1.37-44. 181

Schiva d’Amor li spassi e maritali amplessi poichè ne saggi studi e tanto immersa che li porge fastidio e gran tormento quel ch’ad altri daria somno contento.433

You shouldn’t wonder, my dear friend, or be very disturbed, if your sister, the noble Hipparchia, scorns earthly delights and considers them vile. She avoids the enjoyments of love and marital embraces because she is so immersed in her wise studies that what gives to others the greatest contentment to her brings trouble and great torment.

Interestingly, Astolfi does not include such a statement in his adaptation of the Lives of either Crates or Diogenes, perhaps suggesting that Ninci had access to other versions of the work, such as Traversari’s Latin translation or the Aldine edition. The statement in fact reads very closely to a remark from Diogenes the Cynic as reported by Diogenes

Laertius:

καὶ γὰρ αὐτὴ τῆς ἡδονῆς ἡ καταφρόνησις ἡδυτάτη προμελετηθεῖσα, καὶ ὥσπερ οἱ συνεθισθέντες ἡδέως ζῆν, ἀηδῶς ἐπὶ τοὐναντίον μετίασιν, οὕτως οἱ τοὐναντίον ἀσκηθέντες ἥδιον αὐτῶν τῶν ἡδονῶν καταφρονοῦσι.434

For even contempt of pleasure is most pleasurable in itself when practiced beforehand; and just as those who are accustomed to live pleasurably feel displeasure when they experience the opposite, so those who practice the opposite find it more pleasing than pleasure itself.

This more general statement provides further insight into Hipparchia’s character, expanding her own explanation of the pain of love to cover all forms of pleasure, including such things as luxury and wealth, which are also connected to the body through

433 Ibid., I.5, 1-10.

434 DL VI.2.71.

182 their ability to provide comfort, fine food, etc. These qualities are therefore not desirable to Hipparchia either, as Metrocles explains:

Non aspira a grandezza, non ambisce ricchezza, mia sorella; solo la virtù tua, la tua dottrina l’appaga e la contenta, e volentieri anch’ io consentirei.435

My sister does not aspire to grandeur, nor does she desire riches; it is only your virtue, your doctrines, that appeal to her and bring her happiness, and I would gladly consent.

Hipparchia consistently derives pleasure only from her books and the teachings of Crates, and redirects her brother’s wish for her to marry in order to find fulfillment in both areas without compromising herself.

Though Metrocles consents to the marriage, Ninci introduces another obstacle to the wedding: the imprisonment of Crates on false pretenses. This invented detail provides an opportunity for Ninci’s Crates to demonstrate the value of the Cynic pain/pleasure reversal. The incarcerated Crates in fact uses this opposition to reassure a distraught

Hipparchia, saying:

In questa mortal vita A me tanto è gradita La dura prigionia Quanto la libertade, e signoria.436

In this mortal life This harsh prison Is just as pleasing to me

435 Ninci, Sposalizio, II.3.31-36.

436 Ibid., IV. 1.22-25.

183

As liberty or lordship.

The practice of denying himself pleasure in freedom or social status thus allows Crates to enjoy living as a prisoner just as much (or rather, perhaps, as little) as he enjoys life as a free man.

Yet the pleasure/pain dichotomy can be perverted. Metrocles’ investigation into the charges against Crates reveals that their true source is the invidia of the accusers, rather than any wrongdoing on Crates part. As the two discuss the nature of envy and envious people, they reveal a third possible relationship between pleasure and pain. In addition to those who find pleasure or pain, respectively, in pleasurable things, there are those who enjoy others’ suffering, feeling both schadenfreude and what has been playfully dubbed freudenschade, pain at others’ successes. These people occupy a curious middle ground between the former two categories. Though they are in touch with the Cynic’s pain/pleasure reversal, their attention is directed outwardly rather than inwardly, leading to the reliance on external circumstances which Ninci’s Cynics find so distasteful. Crates explains that there are so many people in this middle ground that:

...quandi li rimiro afflitti e mesti, non so se pensar devo s’a quelli sia successo grave danno, o vero ad altri bene!437

...when I see someone troubled or afflicted, I don’t know whether to think that some terrible injury has happened to them, or that something good has happened to someone else!

437 Ibid., IV. 8. 15-18.

184

The discussion of this type leads implicitly to a comparison between the wise and the foolish person. Metrocles further characterizes invidia as a monster that lives in most people’s hearts, but Crates replies that the wise man does not subject himself to such feelings:

...Huom saggio non consente albergar dentro se l’orribil bestia.438

The wise man does not allow This horrible beast to live inside him.

He adds that he is protected from others’ invidia by his philosophy, linking the concept to his earlier discussion of pleasure and pain:

Solo il voler divin ne può privare; di me altro non hanno che invidiare. Ricchezze non posseggo, e dignità non godo.439

Only the will of the gods can deprive me of [virtue]; There is nothing else about me for them to envy. I do not possess riches, and I enjoy no dignity.

Crates’ statement in fact alludes to the problematic nature of the Cynic marriage; though he says he has nothing to envy besides virtue, in reality, he is now engaged to Hipparchia, who is identified consistently as an attractive woman who has refused many suitors. This one possession puts Crates’ theory to the test, proving that the possession of good things does not necessarily guarantee one’s pleasure. Rather, it is Crates’ attitude towards the circumstances that saves him from feeling pain. Crates’ imprisonment, meant to harm

438 Ibid., IV.8. 25-26. 439 Ibid., IV.8. 40-43.

185 him, thus has no effect; he is protected by his general asceticism and his more general aversion to common pleasures.

This is in contrast to the envious parties described by Crates, who are constantly driven into further action, finding satisfaction only through their ability to outrage others:

È questa la mercè degl’invidiosi: cercon di far’oltraggio in mille modi, con cento astuzie et arti a questo e quello, spinti e spronati solo dalla loro invidiosa passione.440

This is the gift of the envious: They seek to do outrage in a million ways, with a hundred tricks and artifices to this and that end, compelled and driven only by their envious passion.

The word “mercè,” which may be translated variously as gift, wage, reward, or product, and the resulting representation of the envious person’s actions as a kind of economic exchange is reminiscent of the Cynic command to “restamp the currency” (τὸ νόμισμα

παραχαράξας),441 in which the Cynic overthrows the restrictive force of shame. Similarly, in protecting himself against the power of invidia and the actions of the invidiosi, Crates effectively devalues the envious person’s currency: the ability to do outrage.

By focusing on the pain/pleasure dichotomy as the location for this “restamping,”

Ninci avoids the problems associated with portraying the Cynics’ famous shamelessness, which is usually taken as the main mechanism for this action— most famously in the couple’s attempt at public copulation, as reported by Apuleius.442 By redirecting the

440 Ibid., IV.8. 48-52. 441 Suda, Crates (K2341); Julian, Oration 7.211.

442 Apuleius Florida XIV.6 186

“restamping” towards the mental experience of pleasure and pain, and retaining the idea of the Cynic as an ascetic figure, Ninci is able to create a version of the philosophy that is more palatable for her audience (and less difficult to stage!). She then uses this version of

Cynicism to reflect on the larger conflict between free will and fortune, finding that the ability to reverse this pleasure/pain dichotomy frees the individual in turn from reversals of fortune.

Fortune and Free Will

The theme of fortune emerges very early in the play during a discussion between

Hipparchia and Metrocles on the virtue of prudence. Metrocles argues that it is the most important virtue, citing Cicero as his source: “Cicerone la chiama vera scienza, di beni e di mali, e della vita human, arte e maestra, abbellisce e t’adorna ogni opra virtuosa,”443

“Cicero calls it the one true science of good and evil, the teacher and art of human life, adorning and beautifying every virtuous act.” This content is perhaps drawn in part from

Cicero’s De Inventione, in which he writes:

[virtus] habet igitur partes quattuor: prudentiam,iustitiam, fortitudinem, temperantiam. Prudentia est rerum bonarum et malarum neutrarumque scientia.444

Virtue has then four parts: prudence, justice, strength and temperance. Prudence is the knowledge of good and evil things, and those that are neither.

443Ninci, Sposalizio, I.1, 87-91.

444 Cic. Inv. 2.160. 187

Metrocles explains further that prudence is linked to memory, learning and experience, and emphasizes that it can protect individuals from the vagaries of fortune. This conncetion, too, may have its origins in Cicero’s work:

partes eius: memoria, intellegentia, providentia. memoria est per quam animus repetit illa quae fuerunt; intellegentia, per quam ea perspicit quae sunt; providentia, per quam futurum aliquid videtur ante quam factum est.445

The elements [of prudence] are: memory, intelligence and foresight. Memory is that through which the mind remembers what has been. Intelligence is that through which one perceives the things of the present; foresight is that through which the future can be foreseen before it happens.

It is perhaps ironic that Metrocles is the one to lecture on this topic, for it is actually

Hipparchia who is the true master of prudence. She sees that she is happy in her present circumstances through her intelligence and memory; and she uses her foresight to predict that a conventional marriage would interrupt this happiness. Her prudence thus allows her to identify such a marriage as a negative thing, and redirect her fate accordingly. In contrast, Metrocles lacks the ability to understand Hipparchia’s present intent to marry

Crates or foresee that she will change her lifestyle and leave her home in order to maintain that marriage.

Prudence, then, is the first necessary element in the fight for agency in human life, allowing the individual to plan ahead against possible misfortune. Not all outcomes, however, are foreseeable, and this is where Crates’ earlier discussion of pain and pleasure becomes relevant. Though Metrocles’ consent is easily obtained, Ninci introduces a new obstacle to the marriage; Crates is imprisoned without cause or explanation, possibly by

445 Cic. Inv. 2.160. 188 the uncle of Metrocles. This turn of events not only creates a dramatic obstacle for the lovers, but creates another opportunity for Crates to demonstrate his philosophy. Valerio reports on Crates’ behavior in prison:

Non lamenti o querele; solo disse a suoi cari, “Vedete e rimirate Come pien d’amarezza è questo mondo, d’ogni gioia in fecondo; E sono i frutti suoi tormenti e pene. … Eccovi qui l’esempio: io, senza errare, Hor mi fa incarcerare.”446 He does not cry or complain; He only says to his friends, “Look and be amazed at how full this world is Of bitterness, and of every joy in abundance; And the fruits of this are torments and pain. …Look at my example: I, without erring, Now find myself in prison.”

This assessment could have come straight from the mouth of the Crates described by

Diogenes Laertius, who emphasizes the futility of human efforts against the forces of fortune, which may strike at any time and under any guise—as Crates explains to

Alexander the Great:

Πρὸς Ἀλέξανδρον πυθόμενον εἰ βούλεται αὐτοῦ τὴν πατρίδα ἀνορθωθῆναι, ἔφη, "καὶ τί δεῖ; πάλιν γὰρ ἴσως Ἀλέξανδρος ἄλλος αὐτὴν κατασκάψει." ἔχειν δὲ πατρίδα ἀδοξίαν καὶ πενίαν ἀνάλωτα τῇ τύχῃ καὶ Διογένους εἶναι πολίτης ἀνεπιβουλεύτου φθόνῳ.447

When Alexander inquired whether he wished his native city to be rebuilt, [Crates] said, “Why should it be? For perhaps another Alexander will destroy it.” He said he considered his homeland to be ill repute and poverty, which could never be

446 Ninci, Sposalizio, II.6.32-37, 43-44.

447 DL VI. 5. 93.

189

taken by Fortune; and that he was a comrade of Diogenes, who could never be subject to plots of envy.

Diogenes Laertius’ anecdote identifies the very enemies that Ninci sets forward in her play: fortune and envy, here rendered by the Greek τύχῃ and φθόνος.

These themes help to contextualize one of the problems of this play: the character of the mad astrologer, whose ravings fill several scenes. While his allusions to various constellations and mythological figures suggest that Ninci was extremely learned, the astrologer’s words also recall Crates’ mistrust of fortune. Ninci may even have drawn directly from the ancient Cynic’s suspicions regarding the study of the stars for her interpretation; the Lives reports that Diogenes the Cynic“[believed] that music, geometry, astrology and the like should be neglected as they are useless and unnecessary,”

“μουσικῆς τε καὶ γεωμετρικῆς καὶ ἀστρολογίας καὶ τῶν τοιούτων ἀμελεῖν, ὡς ἀχρήστων

καὶ οὐκ ἀναγκαίων.”448 Astolfi reports this in his life of Diogenes as well.449

The astrologer as a character embodies the danger and distraction of such study: he is completely out of touch with reality, unable even to recognize the people around him, though he can remember and list countless constellations and obscure figures from ancient myth. At times he even loses touch with his surroundings; in Act III, the astrologer imagines that he is going on a journey in the sky, addressing the stars as he prepares to depart:

Dimmi per ch’ a quest’hora, Cinosura Garbata, Splendi si bella in Ciel; forse a[i]utarmi

448 DL VI. 2.73.

449 Astolfi, Delle Vite de’Filosofi, 92.

190

Intendi mentre ch’io Sto navigando in questo Vasto Mare— Sarai tu dunque di me scorta e guida?450

Tell me why at this hour, Kind Ursa Minor, You shine so beautifully in the sky. Perhaps you intend to help me As I navigate through this vast sea— Will you be my escort and guide?

Orlando’s faith in the stars as his guides is ill-placed, for he soon finds the constellation to be treacherous (a traditora infame),451 taking him on an imagined journey through high mountains away from his proposed destination. He asks,

Soccorrer non volete il vostro Amico Cui tante notte a vagheggiar vi stette? Stelle troppo scortesi, e disleali. 452

Do you not wish to help your friend, Who for so many nights has remained here to contemplate you? The stars are too rude, and disloyal.

In addition to providing a humorous aside, this statement echoes the words of Crates as reported by Valerio in Act II.453 The stars, by their association with the reading of fortunes or auspices, are closely linked with the idea of fortune. The astrologer therefore finds himself at the mercy of fate when he entrusts his life to the constellation, providing a stark contrast to Crates’ attempts to remain outside the influence of fortune. Metrocles in fact references the stars and their link to fortune in his aside on prudence:

450 Ninci, Sposalizio, III.1.1-6.

451 Ibid., III.1.18.

452 Ibid., III.1.28.

453 Ibid., II.6.32-37, 43-44.

191

Iparco et altri affermativamente dicon ch’invola le forze alle stelle e scampa l’huom da tutti l’infortune 80 sotto a cui fusse nato.454

Hipparchus and others say that [prudence] certainly Negates the powers of the stars And protects humans from all the misfortunes Under which they are born.

The astrologer thus provides negative proof of this claim, in a way acting as a foil for the rational and self-reliant Crates.

Crates’ understanding of his own fortune, however, is also influenced by his understanding of the divine. He explains his lack of anger at his fate in Act IV:

Con chi sdegno haver deggio Mentre questo è volere Degl’altissimi Dei? E per esseguir quello? Questo piccol tugurio me più grato D’un palazzo real d'un regio stato.455

Whom should I scorn When this is the will Of the highest gods— And to what end? This little cell is more pleasing to me Than a royal palace in a regal state.

Crates’ faith in the will of the gods brings up an important point. Though this story appears in the place usually reserved for a sacred representation, religion has thus far been almost entirely absent from the story, even in discussions of fate; and when it finally does appear, it is clearly pagan, as indicated by Crates’ use of the plural Dei. However, as

454 Ibid., I.1.78-81.

455 Ibid., IV. 1. 31-36.

192

Crates’ speech continues, Ninci adds elements to his religion that would appear familiar to a Christian audience: faith in the will of the divine and the reward of an afterlife. As

Crates explains to Hipparchia,

…e dubitare L’huomo non dee mai, quando gli occorre Alcun sinistro evento Ch’ ordinato non sia Dalla somma e celeste Providenza, Cui provede a ciascuno i veri modi Per salvar l’ alma e gir con lunghi passi Al sommo Giove, nell’ empireo santo. Ho rinunziato le ricchezze tutte Per arrivare a quel; acciò non sieno Quelle d’ impedimento al mio viaggio.456

And man ought never to doubt but that, When some unfortunate event occurs, It was arranged by lofty and heavenly Providence Who provides to all the true paths towards saving the soul, And for going in strides to highest Jove in his holy empire. I have renounced all riches In order to arrive at this end, Lest they should be something of an impediment to my journey.

Though explained with a pagan vocabulary, the journey Crates describes undeniably mirrors the Christian process of salvation and ascension to heaven. Thus Ninci combines elements of Crates’ Cynicism with Christian ideas that would be familiar and acceptable to her audience.

This technique was popular among humanist writers as well, and is most evident in the tradition of painting Seneca as a closet Christian who was in contact with the

456 Ibid.,, IV.1.44-54.

193

Apostle Paul. This is a somewhat more difficult task to accomplish with Crates, however, as the Cynics were notorious for their critiques of organized religion and superstition.457

Though Diogenes Laertius does not comment specifically on Crates’ religious views, he relates several anecdotes in which Diogenes the Cynic challenges practices such as ritual bathing, feasting and prayer,458 while Tertullian suggests that his views were agnostic:

Diogenes consultus, quid in caelis agatur, "numquam", inquit, "ascendi". Item, an dei essent, "nescio", inquit, "nisi, ut sint, expedire."459

When Diogenes was asked what happened in heaven, he answered, “I’ve never been up there.” Furthermore, when asked whether there were gods, he answered, “I do not know, but it is expedient that there should be.”

This is not to say, however, that the Cynics rejected all sense of the divine. Rather, they were critical of the hypocrisy and greed they observed among worshippers and temple officials. Recall Diogenes Laertius VI.2. 44, in which Crates encourages others to avoid the distractions and desires that lead away from the life created specifically for men by the gods:

ἐβόα πολλάκις λέγων τὸν τῶν ἀνθρώπων βίον ῥᾴδιον ὑπὸ τῶν θεῶν δεδόσθαι, ἀποκεκρύφθαι δ᾽ αὐτῶν ζητούντων μελίπηκτα καὶ μύρα καὶ τὰ παραπλήσια.460

He would often shout that the gods had given men an easy life, but it had been lost because we seek after honey-cakes and perfume and the like.

457 See M.-O. Goulet-Cazè, “Religion and the Early Cynics,” in The Cynics, edited by R. Bracht Branham and M.-O. Goulet-Cazè (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1996), 47-80.

458 D.L. VI.2. 41-45.

459 Tertullian Ad Nat. II.2.10.

460 D.L. VI.2. 44.

194

It is not clear what kind of gods Crates means; Goulet-Cazè has argued that “the gods in question here have become one with nature,”461 a statement that leaves no room for the personality of the Christian God. Other readers, well before Ninci’s time, managed to find a kind of Christian Cynicism in the figures of Crates and Diogenes. In the fourth century, for instance, the emperor Julian was portraying Crates as a pious man, even attributing several lines of a prayer to him, while Diogenes appears in his work as a “kind of saint invested with a divine mission.”462 Julian’s portrayal is certainly more in keeping with Ninci’s reading of Crates as a proto-Christian, an interpretation that only becomes clearer throughout this scene. Crates explains further to Hipparchia,

la speranza dell’ eterna gioia Cangerà in dolcezza Ogni amarezza e noia.463

The hope of eternal joy Changes all bitterness and trouble Into pleasure.

Crates’ “eternal joy” is suggestive of a Christian afterlife; and it is highly significant that this is Crates’ main source of pleasure. Recall that Hipparchia’s highest pleasure stems from reading;464 here Crates implicitly corrects his student, suggesting that the story of their marriage will also be one of conversion. He in fact places the whole outcome of their relationship on his faith in god, leaving Hipparchia with the words,

461 Goulet-Cazè, “Religion and the Early Cynics,” 73.

462 Julian, Against Heraclius the Cynic, 7.9.213b. See also Goulet-Cazè, “Religion and the Early Cynics,” 74-75.

463 Ibid., IV.1.93-95.

464 Ibid., I.1. 24-32. 195

Tempo forse verrà, piacendo a Giove Che parlar ci potremo Senza ver’un timore.465

Perhaps a time will come, if it is pleasing to Jove, When we can speak with one another without fear.

Hipparchia in turn appears to accept this faith. When it becomes clear that the couple will be able to wed, she delivers an extended statement of gratitude to the gods: “Qual grazie, mia Nutrice / Render devo a gli Dei…”466 “What thanks I ought to give to the gods, my nurse!” recalling Crates’ earlier trust in the divine.

The importance of fortune, the pain/pleasure dichotomy and the divine does not diminish with the resolution of the conflict. The now-married couple gives one final nod to the themes through a metaphorical discussion of the four elements: air, fire, water, and earth. Hipparchia asks which element is the most important of all; Crates chooses Air, explaining the value of its transparency:

...tutte le bellezze belle sono per la sua risplendente trasparenza. Amicissimo è questo de’viventi, anzi è detto spiracol della vita.467

All beautiful things are beautiful in their brilliant transparency. [Air] is the greatest friend of the living, and is even called the breath of life.

465 Ibid., IV.1.26-28.

466 Ibid., IV.6.1-2.

467 Ibid., V.9. 42-45. Note that Hillman reads “vista” rather than “vita,” which produces a discussion on the nature of sight, rather than life; see Hillman 169.

196

Hipparchia notes that air, however, can be an enemy to humans when it becomes foggy, hot, or cold; Crates replies that these changes are due to the interference of other elements:

Mercè degli furiosi inquinamenti, de gl’altri perfidissimi elementi, essendo certo chiaro ch’ei vorria perpetuar la nostra mortal vita, se da contrari e nimici accidenti non fussi intorbidito il suo pensiero.468

This is the product of the furious pollutions of the other treacherous elements, for it is certainly clear that [Air] would like to perpetuate our mortal existence, if its thoughts were not disturbed by these contrary and unfriendly occurrences.

Note that mercè appears in Crates’ earlier discussion of invidia in the same type of construction;469 and in fact Crates describes the interference of the envious people in the lives of others in much the same way. Crates’ statement on the nature of Air and the elements, however, further suggests that the natural state of things is tranquility; Air, the breath of life, is transparent and beneficial, but the other elements rush in to change it, obscuring its beneficial qualities. This attitude recalls Diogenes Laertius VI.2.44, cited above; the gods give men an easy life, but they complicate it through their desires for external sources of happiness. It is only through these externals that fortune can harm the individual, for only the gods, as Crates himself says, can interfere with the internal qualities that take away fortune’s power: namely, the training that allows the Cynic to

468 Ibid., V.9.52-57.

469 Ibid., IV.8. 48-52. 197 find pleasure in pain, and to avoid possession of anything that might inspire envy in others. Beyond these qualities, it is left to the divine to determine the fate of the individual, a fact in which Crates finds solace even when imprisoned.

Men and Women

Hipparchia’s training in the above areas prepares her to build for herself a third option. Pressured by Metrocles to marry, she exercises prudence in choosing a spouse whose philosophy will allow her to maintain a greater degree of control over her own fate, if only through her ability to tolerate or enjoy any misfortune that might befall either of them. The choice also allows her in some ways to evade her brother’s will; she rejects the suitors he has proposed, and chooses instead his older friend, in fact the very man whom Metrocles enjoins to persuade Hipparchia to choose a husband.

Crates is an unconventional choice for several reasons. In addition to the fact that the two are opposites in terms of their superficial qualities—Hipparchia is young and desirable, while Crates is old and decrepit— the very idea of a Cynic man taking a wife is problematic. L. Navia, for instance, points to Epictetus’ views on the subject: true Cynics must “be free from distraction, wholly devoted to the service of God, free to go about among people, not tied down by the private duties of men, nor involved in relationships which he cannot violate;”470 even Ninci’s more moderate Crates alludes to many of the issues raised by Epictetus. The main objection for both is that human entanglements such

470 Epictetus, Discourses III, xxii, 69; See also Luis E. Navia, Classical Cynicism (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1996), 135-36.

198 as marriage would interfere with the pursuit of philosophy; unless, of course, one’s partner is a fellow practitioner. In this case, marriage can benefit both parties equally; or as Navia puts it, “In marrying Hipparchia, Crates married another Crates, just as in marrying Crates, she married another Hipparchia.”471 This equivalency is in spite of the rather obvious fact that Hipparchia is a woman, and Crates a man. Several concerns regarding this gender difference arise in the play, most prominently, the issues of female speech and chastity. These are resolved, however, by Hipparchia’s full conversion to

Crates’ lifestyle.

The recurring themes of female speech and chastity appear in a new light in

Ninci’s play. The servant Giunetta, intrigued by a secret discussion between the Nurse and Metrocles, complains that the group excludes her based on her sex:

…Dicon che le donne sono cicale; Ma la Nutrice è donna come mene. S’io non sono in errore E si havessi a dire il vero, vero Mi par che gl’huomin ciarlin tanto e tanto Ch’un solo basterebbe Per superare tutte quante noi.472

They say that women are like cicadas; But the Nurse is a woman just as I am. If I am not mistaken And if I were to speak the truth, truly It seems to me that men talk so much That just one of them would suffice To outdo all of us.

471 Navia, Classical Cynicism, 136.

472 Ninci. Sposalizio, I.7.9-15.

199

Giunetta’s generalization in fact holds true throughout the play she inhibits. Women are consistently portrayed as more knowledgeable and less talkative than men, even the relatively uninformed Giunetta, who, despite her lack of knowledge on the particulars of the situation, is able to draw larger conclusions about the reasons for her exclusion. The men in the play, by contrast, are constantly pulled into moments of humor and dramatic irony by their lack of awareness, as when Crates unknowingly congratulates himself on marrying Hipparchia: “O cento e mille volte ben felice / Quello sarà a cui la giovin saggia

/Se stessa donerà!”473 “O, one hundred thousand times blessed is he to whom that noble youth gives herself!” he says, unknowingly referring to himself while signaling that his attempts to persuade Hipparchia to marry will be a little too well-received. Similarly,

Metrocles fails to notice that Hipparchia has made up her mind to marry Crates, despite her hint in the first scene of the play. Finally, the astrologer featured at the end of Act I epitomizes Giunetta’s generalizations; his delusional speech fills nearly two entire scenes, as he mistakes Giunetta first for one of his students, lecturing and demanding responses from her, and then for the goddess Juno descended from heaven (perhaps in a play on words: Giunone/Giunetta).

The misperceptions of the male characters reach a peak as Hipparchia’s choice of spouse becomes public knowledge. The servant Valerio gives a monologue on the subject, expressing the fear that some harm will come to the innocent Crates due to the rumors that have reached the uncle of Metrocles and Hipparchia:

Et ho sentito dir che un suo zio È molto irato per haver udito

473 Ibid., I.5.25-27. 200

solo che in casa molte volte viene Per disputar di diverse scienzie E molti hanno sospetto Ch’a lui non ne succeda qualche danno.474

And I have heard that an uncle of his Is enraged at having heard That [Crates] has come into the house alone many times To argue over various sciences; And many suspect That some harm will come to him.

The anger of this uncle will prove central to Ninci’s reinterpretation of the story, and serves to foreground the issue of chastity. Valerio’s report implies that the uncle fears

Crates has taken advantage of Hipparchia, indicating a misunderstanding of both of their characters. In fact, both Valerio and the uncle fail to understand the source of attraction between the two. Valerio states that if he were a woman, he would rather remain alone than marry Crates,475 while the uncle suggests that some impropriety has led the girl to wish to marry the older man. Crates himself addresses this fear in a scene with Metrocles:

…se creduto havessi che’l desir di voler mi per consorte si trovassi annidato nel saggio petto della bella Iparchia, non havrei consentito far ingresso nella di te Magion...

If I could have believed that I would find hidden In the wise heart of Hipparchia A desire to marry me, I would never have agreed to enter your home.

474 Ibid., II.2.14-19.

475 Ibid., II.2.4-7.

201

The theme of the home as a protector of chastity, and potential place for it to be compromised, continues here, as Crates focuses not on his speech or interactions with

Hipparchia, but the initial act of crossing the threshold, evoking the sexual imagery of the lover awaiting entry to the beloved’s door. As he continues, he chooses another suggestive phrase to describe his lack of foresight regarding her true feelings: he is unable to penetrate (penetrare) her thoughts in any way, again referencing obliquely the concerns he imagines Metrocles to be feeling.

The decision to resolve the issue of familial consent immediately, however, only opens the way for Ninci to insert other obstacles later, the first of which is Crates himself, who remarks upon a number of philosophical and practical concerns:

Credimi, pur ch’ io bramo Viver libero e sciolto In mio povero stato, E se non fussi rozza villania Usar atti scortesi Contro eccesso di nobil cortesia Negherei d’accettarla per mia sposa.476

Believe me, since I wish to live free and unencumbered In my poor state: Even if I were not a crude boor Using rude acts Against the excesses of noble courtesy, I would refuse to accept her as my wife.

This passage indicates strongly that Ninci was familiar with the traditions of Cynicism outside of the story of Hipparchia’s marriage as reported by Astolfi. His biography of

Crates does not emphasize his goal of undermining concepts such as shame and courtesy,

476 Ibid., II.3.37-43.

202 but rather his ridiculous appearance and hatred of money. It is not clear where Ninci gained familiarity with other details of his conduct, though the Souda and the Emperor

Julian are potential sources, respectively, for Crates’ shamelessness and the Cynics’ overall attempts to “restamp the currency” (τὸ νόμισμα παραχαράξας).477

. The nurse, pessimistic as always, points out that no one will be able to attend their controversial and secret marriage, a point which does not bother Hipparchia. She responds:

Se vi sarà presente Quell’oracol divino (Che dir così lo voglio) Nido d’ogni virtù d’ogni scienza, Che bramar più poss’io Di quel solo? M’appago, E son contenta e soddisfatta a pieno.478

If that divine oracle will be present— Or what I want to say, That seat of every virtue and every science, What more could I want Than that alone? I am appeased, Content and fully satisfied.

Hipparchia’s statement once more emphasizes that this is a marriage of minds; Crates’ body is merely a location (nido) for the virtue and knowledge that Hipparchia desires, and that one desire transcends even the need for other human company.

The final scenes of the play cement the vision of a Cynical marriage between

Crates and Hipparchia while emphasizing her transfer from the home of her brother to the

477 Suda, Crates (K2341); Julian, Oration 7.211.

478 Ninci, Sposalizio, IV. 6. 13-19.

203 lifestyle of her new husband. Giovannino and Giunetta take on the role of the messenger in scene 7, reporting that the wedding of Crates and Hipparchia was interrupted by a summons from the emperor of Rome; it seems that Crates is needed to resolve a debate among eminent wise men, and prepares to leave immediately after the wedding.

Hipparchia resolves to accompany him, dressed in men’s clothing, a choice which she presents as a practical one:

Seguir sempre te voglio in ogni loco; solo per questo fin, come tu vedi, tronche mi son chiome, e anco ho preso spoglie viril piuttosto che donnesche con quai potrò con lesto e lungo passo calcar il suol da te premuto pria.479

I wish always to follow you everywhere; It is for this reason alone that, as you see, I have cut my hair and taken up a style of dress more masculine than feminine with which I will be able to follow with nimble and long steps In the footsteps made by you before.

There are additional implications to Hipparchia’s choice, however, beyond the ease of movement she describes here. The life of Diogenes the Cynic reveals at least one anecdote suggesting a natural preference for the masculine over the feminine in the Cynic school of thought. suggesting that Hipparchia’s choice was a philsophical, not merely practical choice:

Ἰδών ποτε νεανίσκον θηλυνόμενον, "οὐκ αἰσχύνῃ," ἔφη, "χείρονα τῆς φύσεως περὶ σεαυτοῦ βουλευόμενος; ἡ μὲν γάρ σε ἄνδρα ἐποίησε, σὺ δὲ σεαυτὸν βιάζῃ γυναῖκα εἶναι." 480

479 Ibid., V.9.3-8.

480DL VI.2.65.

204

Seeing a young man acting like a woman, he said, “Are you not ashamed, that you desire for yourself something worse than what nature intends? For nature made you a man, but you force yourself to be a woman.”

Hipparchia’s actions tap into this dichotomy, implicitly placing the masculine over the feminine through her own description of the advantages of male dress, which enables her not just to move freely in a practical sense, but to accompany her husband unencumbered by feminine weaknesses, even those related to her former identity as the sister of

Metrocles. When Valerio reveals that Metrocles will not leave his room to see his sister off because it is too painful, Crates encourages her to spare her brother the pain of separation; but Hipparchia replies, “E, s’a Metrocle spiace mia partita | s’acquieterà. Poco m’importa; Andiamo!”481 “And if my departure displeases Metrocles, he will get over it.

It matters to me little—let’s go!”

Hipparchia’s transformation into the ideal mate for Crates thus involves more than philosophical training. Ultimately, she abandons her home and family, even her old way of dressing, to embark with Crates on an itinerant life of teaching. This is symbolized in Diogenes Laertius’ entry on Hipparchia by her abandonment of the loom, and the criticism she received for it. When a critic asks, “αὕτη 'στὶν ἡ τὰς παρ᾽ ἱστοῖς

ἐκλιποῦσα κερκίδας;” “Is this the woman who left her carding-combs by the loom?”

Hipparchia replies:

ἐγώ εἰμί... ἀλλὰ μὴ κακῶς σοι δοκῶ βεβουλεῦσθαι περὶ αὑτῆς, εἰ, τὸν χρόνον ὃν ἔμελλον ἱστοῖς προσαναλώσειν, τοῦτον εἰς παιδείαν κατεχρησάμην; 482

481 Ninci, Sposalizio, V.9. 73-74.

482 D.L. VI. 96-98.

205

“It is I... And do you think I have made a bad choice for myself, if instead of squandering my time at the loom I have used it for my education?”

This comment is not included in Astolfi’s version or Ninci’s; but the attitude underlying it is relevant for Ninci’s interpretation. Michèle Le Doeuff interprets the episode as a larger commentary on the identities lost and gained by Hipparchia’s choice to marry

Crates:

On one side the loom, on the other the getting of knowledge: Hipparchia abandons the first in favor of the second. In so doing she finds a better way of life, but she wins exile and, if I may be permitted a neologism, she unfinds herself. ...This flight from an overly determined identity is amply justified. The interest manifested by some women for philosophical study may well proceed, not from a desire to find themselves, but from one of losing themselves.483

Though the loom itself is absent from Ninci’s retelling, it is clear that by following Crates she is rejecting certain aspects of her identity as a woman, as symbolized by her masculine attire. Her uncle’s concerns for her chastity, the protection of her familial home, Giunetta’s observations on the perception of female speech, all become irrelevant when Hipparchia takes on the identity of a Cynic wife.

In this way, Hipparchia’s philosophy reveals itself again and again as a transformative force, allowing her to move between the masculine and the feminine, the philosophical life and the mundane. This reversal evokes once more one of the larger themes in the work: the tendency of Ninci’s Cynic to unite opposites, such as the masculine and the feminine; for Hipparchia follows this explanation of her change of attire with a remark on another set of opposites: pleasure and pain, one of the consistent

483 Michèle LeDoeuff, Hipparchia’s Choice, trans. Trista Selous (New York: Columbia University Press, 2007): 206.

206 themes in the work. Hipparchia answers her husband’s concern about the hardships of the trip by appealing to this dichotomy: “Quando a noi ne succeda | sinistro e reo cammino | teco mi sarà dolce ogni penare,”484 “When an unfortunate or rough road appears to us, together with you every trial will be sweet.”

By representing Hipparchia in this way, Ninci effectively removes her from the genre of the catalogue. Though Hipparchia is exceptional, she is also self-determining, choosing to efface the characteristics that set her apart as a woman philosopher, using the very power structures from which she wishes to escape as her vehicle. Her prudence, and her training in the concepts of pain and pleasure, allow her to use marriage as a way of reframing her intellectual pursuits; she pursues philosophy, and when this is challenged, she chooses instead a philosophical man and a marriage of minds. Yet Hipparchia’s self- determination, as Le Doeuff argues, also involves a loss of self; a fact to which

Hipparchia alludes in the first scene of the play. Books allow her to obtain “victory over herself,”485 a phrase whose significance does not become clear until the end of the play. It is not only that Hipparchia defeats her the appetites and desires of her body; she also overcomes her body’s femininity, escaping a traditional marriage by rejecting all aspects of her womanhood. In this way, Hipparchia both defeats and contributes to the power structures she opposes by her rejection of conventional marriage, shaping a philosophical union around the same subjugation of the feminine to the masculine.

484 Ninci, Sposalizio, V.9. 11-13.

485 Ibid., I.1, 24-32. 207

Hipparchia’s Cynicism therefore teaches an important lesson. Ninci’s audience sees a woman who, in the absence of true freedom to choose, creates a space in which she can determine her own outcome, and ultimately implements a philosophy that prevents external factors from interfering with her life further. As religious women with little freedom of movement and often little say in their initial cloistering, Ninci’s audience may have found in Hipparchia’s attitude a way of reframing their situations. Her philosophy, her dedication to knowledge and self-training, and the Cynical insistence on finding a way to avoid the traps of fortune could present new ways of assigning meaning to life in the convent without conforming to the type of the learned woman.

208

CHAPTER 6: CONCLUSIONS

The authors presented in this work are too often cited as evidence of the thwarted ambitions of early modern women. King, for instance, addresses this phenomenon in her work Book Lined Cells, writing:

…their achievement is flawed. Its deficiency is seen not in what learned women did in fact achieve, but in what they failed to achieve. Their accomplishments, on the whole, do not match their early promise…Their success was disturbed by too many defeats. 486

Thus far this work has avoided any such value judgments; however, in making a final assessment of the arguments presented here, we must confront the so-called “failures” of the female humanist. All too frequently, the female humanist is judged not on her own merits, but on her ability to overcome the disadvantages of her sex, whether these are characterized as innate feminine weaknesses or as social inequalities; she is both too feminine and not feminist enough. Often these criticisms are disguised by praise of an individual author. Burckhardt, for instance, praises the works of Vittoria Colonna for their “manly tone,” concluding:

Even the love-sonnets and religious poems are so precise and definite in their character, so far removed from the tender twilight of sentiment, and from all the dilettantism which we commonly find in the poetry of women, that we should not

486 King, Book Lined Cells, 70.

209

hesitate to ascribe them to male authors, if we had not clear external evidence to prove the contrary.487

Burckhardt’s analysis is emblematic of the problem of evaluating the female humanist; her highest accomplishment is not to be found in her work, but in her ability to efface her own feminity, to appear as good, or nearly as good, as a man. The irony of this trend is that the female humanist’s success in achieving masculinity is accomplished by comparing her not only to men, but to other women.

The women presented here have primarily compared themselves, and been compared to, female exempla drawn from a variety of sources, from Diogenes Laertius’

Lives, to Livy’s histories, and finally to Boccaccio’s On Famous Women. Yet the application of these exempla suggests a progression away from the trend exemplified by

Burkhardt. Though it is dangerous to generalize the progression found in these works to the period as a whole, the trajectory of exempla’s role from the work of Cassandra Fedele to that of Clemenza Ninci two centuries later suggests that men and women were intervening in the genre of the catalogue and identifying new relationships between the example of the learned lady and the woman herself.

Cassandra Fedele’s letters provide a baseline reading for the use of the catalogue in the humanist period. Following Boccaccio, she and her correpsondents use female exempla to emphasize the exceptionality of the individual learned woman, placing her on

487 Jacob Burckhardt and S.G.C. Middlemore, trans, The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy (New York: Penguin Books, 1990), 251.

210 a pedestal that is both above the rest of her sex and separated from the realm of the male humanist. Angelo Poliziano’s encomium to Fedele and Fedele’s own letter to Queen

Beatrice have in common a conservative approach to the exempla, demonstrating that contemporary women were merely repeating the actions of the ancient, leaving little room for innovation or cooperation among female scholars. This is reflected in Fedele’s other works; her engagement with ancient philosophy remains superficial, reliant on a small selection of favorite authors and quotations as authorities. Fedele thus reads not so much as a pracitioner of ancient knowledge, but a type therein.

Laura Cereta, in contrast, uses a catalogue of women to take the learned lady beyond the status of exempla. Whereas Fedele’s catalogues focus on the ability of the contemporary woman to emulate and then surpass the example, Cereta envisions a lineage of female scholars connected by their ingenium, describing the process of learning in reproductive terms: her learning is her dowry, her knowledge acquired like mother’s milk. She is furthermore the only woman here to explicitly state that she wishes to become an exemplum herself, in her own sense of the word. For Cereta, the example is not merely to be emulated; she is an active member of the community of learned women, passing on knowledge to others through her works. Cereta’s letters, and her Dialogue on the Funeral of a Donkey, bear this out. It is clear that Cereta identifies herself as a subject, rather than an object, of study; her authority comes not from the citation of a particular author, but from her ability to interpret and integrate the ideas of those authors into her own innovative works.

211

Tarquinia Molza’s role as a nuova Diotima in Francesco Patrizi’s L’Amorosa

Filosofia introduces a new possibility for the tradition of the catalogue and the exemplum.

Where Fedele and Cereta use the genre explicitly to maintain or to break the status quo,

Patrizi uses the associations of the type of the learned lady to create false expectations in his reader. Rather than appearing as a static type, a silent Muse, Molza is a devilish trickster, a rhetorical genius who turns the tables on her former teacher. Molza’s characterization as a Diotima or a Muse thus has little to do with the woman herself, and more to do with the audience’s expectations for her, as set by their understanding of the ancient exempla presented in Patrizio’s encomium. The failure of Molza’s character to emulate the models presented for her in fact is not represented as a shortcoming, but rather a source of comedy and triumph for her character.

Finally, Clemenza Ninci’s use of Hipparchia as an example for cloistered women in the 17th century affords us the opportunity to consider the creation of new exempla out of the old tradition. Hipparchia’s character, though markedly similar to the woman presented in Diogenes Laertius’ Lives, is tailored to reflect Ninci’s audience. Her and

Crates’ Cynicism—sanitized, Christianized, and refocused towards the importance of human agency in the face of misfortune—is constructed to free the individual (man or woman) from the whims of fortune through prudence and training, providing not just a model for conduct, but a system of living that can be applied in any scenario. Hipparchia and Ninci thus emerge together as practitioners of ancient knowledge, rather than being reduced to a type. Yet Hipparchia’s pursuit of this philosophy involves in some ways a sacrifice of her own identity, especially her femininity, a moment that recalls the very

212 concerns raised in this final chapter. Once again, a learned woman becomes exemplary not only for her use of philosophy, but for her ability to toe the line between the feminine and the masculine.

These works together demonstrate that the genre of the catalogue may actually function in ways outside the traditional view of it as a source of disguised misogyny based in notions of exceptionality. Though the list-like format of the catalogue, and the familiar and repetitive nature of exempla, might encourage the reader to skim through, the choices that each author makes, to exclude, include, revise, or suppress— can be highly telling as to which function he or she is utilizing.

Furthermore, recent research in the fields of teaching and women’s studies suggets that works like these can provide a valuable point of access for students and scholars, whatever their level of involvement or understanding. Because as much as we enjoy seeing a little of ourselves in the works we study, it is perhaps even more important to see ourselves among those who would read and interpret those stories; so that we can step into the shoes not just of the characters, the Diotimas, Hipparchias, Lucretias, but also step into the shoes of those who would become interpreters of the texts they inhabit; to see that you don’t need to be a 19th-century male German philologist in order to do

Classics and get something out of it.

Thus the value is not just in reading and studying these texts, but in teaching them. To expose students to a variety not only of interpretations, but interpretors of the

Classics, is to provide them with an increased sense of their own potential place in the field. Whether or not any of the works presented here is truly “great,” or should be added

213 to the canon or Classical or humanist literature, is beside the point. Rather, as Susanne

Woods argues in her work “But Is It Any Good? The Value of Teaching Early Modern

Writers,”:

When we talk of value, we must always keep in mind not only what we mean by the term itself but also for whom this story, poem, music, or work of art has value and to what purpose.488

The value of these texts then need not lie in their Latinity, or their engagement with canonical Classical texts, or their contributions to the social history of the early modern era. Rather, they can be valuable to students and scholars in the process of locating themselves within the field of Classics. B. McManus has emphasized what she calls the

“role-model effect” in her chapter, “Whose Voice Is It Anyway?”:

There is, as bell hooks points out, a “passion of experience,” that marginalized voices can bring to literature, a contribution of tremendous value for those who share that experience and also for those who do not.489

It is exactly this passion which informs the works of writers like Cereta, who look back at the ancient tradition of the learned lady and take away a sense of shared lineage; and the relationship between those exempla and the ways in which Cereta and others conceived of their own scholarship suggests further that the way we look back at the models for our own education is of the utmost importance not only for our understanding of the past, but for the creation of our voices as scholars.

488 Susanne Woods, “But Is It Any Good? The Value of Teaching Early Modern Writers,” in Structures and Subjectivities: Attending to Early Modern Women, edited by A. Seef and J. Hartman (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 2007), 325.

489 Barbara F. McManus, “Whose Voice Is It Anyway?: Teaching Early Modern Women Writers,” in Crossing Boundaries: Attending to Early Modern Women, ed. Jane Donawerth and Adele Seef (Newark: University of Delaware Press, 2000), 235. See also bell hooks, Teaching to Transgress, 90. 214

Nussbaum argues that the chief contribution of women’s studies to academia lies not in the introduction of new content, but rather new methods of inquiry.490 I advocate for a combination of both. By introducing works of reception produced by marginalized voices, instructors can provide students with a concrete example of their own potential in the Classics, and, for those who already see themselves represented in the field, a new sense of what the discipline can do. In this way, as Cereta herself wished, the authors presented here can become exempla in a new sense, providing both a precedent and a model for the increased diversity and interdisciplinarity of our field.

490 Martha Nussbaum, Cultivating Humanity: A Classical Defense of Reform in Liberal Education (Carmbrudge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997), 195. 215

REFERENCES

Alfieri, Giovanni. Storia Di Brescia, Vol. 2. Brescia: Morcelliana, 1963.

Ambrosini, Federica. “Toward a Social History of Women in Venice.” In Venice

Reconsidered, edited by John Jeffries Martin and Dennis Romano, 420-453.

Baltimore, Johns Hopkins University Press, 2000.

Astolfi, Felice. Delle Vite de’Filosofi di Diogene Laerzio. Venice: G. Perchacino, 1606

and 1611.

Baron, Hans, ed. Leonardo Bruni Aretino Humanistisch-Philosophische Schriften mit

einer Chronologie seiner Werke und Briefe. Leipzig: Teubner, 1928.

Benson, Pamela. The Invention of the Renaissance Woman. Pennsylvania: The

Pennsylvania State University Press, 1992.

Billerbeck, M. “The Ideal Cynic: From Epictetus to Julian.” In The Cynics, edited by R.

Bracht Branham and Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé, 205- 221. Berkeley and Los Angeles:

University of California Press, 1996.

Boccaccio, Giovanni, and Virginia Brown, ed. Famous Women. Cambridge:

Harvard University Press, 2001.

Bonfini, Antonio. “Ten Books on Hungarian Matters,” translated by Caryll Green. In The

Renaissance in Europe: An Anthology, edited by Peter Elmer, Nick Webb, and

Roberta Wood, 207-212. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2000.

216

Bough, Jill. Donkey. London: Reaktion Books, 2011.

Branca, Vittore. "Ermolao Barbaro and Late Quattrocento Venetian Humanism." In

Renaissance Venice, edited by J.R. Hale, 218-243. London: Faber and Faber, 1973.

Brown, Judith C. “A Woman’s Place was in the Home: Women’s Work in Renaissance

Tuscany.” In Rewriting the Renaissance: The Discourses of Sexual Difference in

Early Modern Europe, edited by Margaret W. Ferguson et al., 206-224. Chicago:

University of Chicago Press, 1986.

Burckhardt, Jacob, and S.G.C. Middlemore, trans. The Civilization of the Renaissance in

Italy. New York: Penguin Books, 1990.

Cavazzana, Cesira. Cassandra Fedele, Erudita Veneziana Del Rinascimento. Venice:

Tip. A. Pellizzato, 1906.

Cereta, Laura, and Giacomo Filippo Tomasini, ed. Laurae Ceretae Brixiensis Epistolae

Jamprimum e MS. in Lucem Productae a Jacobo Philippo Tomasino, Qui Ejus Vitam

et Notas Addidit. Padua: Sardi, 1640.

Christian, Kathleen W. “The Multiplicity of the Muses.” In The Muses and their Afterlife

in Post-Classical Europe, edited Kathleen W. Christian et al, 103-153. London: The

Warburg Institute, 2014.

Chojnacki, Stanley. Women and Men in Renaissance Venice. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins

University Press, 2000.

Cox Virginia. Lyric Poetry by Women of the Italian Renaissance. Baltimore: Johns

Hopkins University Press, 2013.

Cox, Virginia. Women’s Writing in Italy, 1400-1650. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins

217

University Press, 2008.

Crayton, John. "Introduction." In The Philosophy of Love, edited and translated by John

Crayton and Daniela Pastina, 9-29. Xlibris, 2004.

Davidson, Amy. "Mitt’s Binders and the Missing Women.” The New Yorker. October

17, 2012. Accessed December 4, 2014. de Man, Paul. “Autobiography as De-facement.” MLN 94 (1979): 919-930.

Del Lungo, I. Prose volgari inedite e poesie latine e greche edite e inedite di Angelo

Ambrogini Poliziano. Florence, 1867.

Denarosi, Lucia. L'Accademia Degli Innominati Di Parma: Teorie Letterarie E Progetti

Di Scrittura (1574-1608). Firenze: Società Editrice Fiorentina, 2003.

Dillon, John. “The Muses in the Platonic Academy.” In The Muses and their Afterlife in

Post-Classical Europe, edited by Kathleen W. Christian et al., 1-11. London: The

Warburg Institute, 2014.

Domonkos, Leslie. “A Renaissance Wedding: The Nuptials of the Italian Princess

Beatrice of Aragon and Matthias Corvinus, King of Hungary.” In Women in

History, Literature and the Arts, edited by Lorrayne Y. Baird-Lange and Thomas A.

Copeland, 43-61. Youngstown: Youngstown State University, 1989.

Dorandi, Tiziano. “Diogène Laërce du Moyen Âge à la Renaissance.” In Exempla

docent: Les exemples des philosophes de l’Antiquité à la Renaissance, edited by

Thomas Ricklin, 35-48. Paris: Librairie Philosophique J. Vrin, 2006.

Elshtain, Jean Bethke. Public Man, Private Woman: Women in Social and Political

Thought. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981.

218

Fedele, Cassandra, and Giacomo Filippo Tomasini, ed. Clarissimae Feminae Cassandrae

Fidelis Venetae Epistolae & Orationes Posthumae Nunquam Antehac Editae. Padua:

Franciscus Bolzetta, 1636.

Feuer-Tóth, Rózsa. Art and Humanism in Hungary in the Age of Matthias Corvinus

Budapest: Akadémiai Kiadó, 1990.

Florio's 1611 Italian/English Dictionary: Queen Anna's New World of Words (Florio's

1611 Italian/English Dictionary). .

Garrison, Elise P. "Suicide in Classical Mythology: An Essay." Diotima (2000).

Accessed February 24, 2015.

http://www.stoa.org/diotima/essays/garrison_essay.shtml.

Geanakoplos, Deno John. Constantinople and the West. Madison: The University of

Wisconsin Press, 1989.

Goulet-Cazé, M.O. “Religion and the Early Cynics.” In The Cynics, edited by R.

Bracht Branham and Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé, 47-80. Berkeley and Los Angeles:

University of California Press, 1996.

Grafton, Anthony and Lisa Jardine. From Humanism to the Humanities. Cambridge:

Harvard University Press, 1986.

Graglia, G. The New Pocket Dictionary of the Italian and English Languages. Paris: B.

Cormon, 1836.

Griffiths, Cristina. Legitimizing the Queen: Propaganda and Ideology in the Reign of

Isabel I of Castile. Lewisburg: Bucknell University Press, 2011.

Guasti, Cesare. Calendario Pratese del 1850. Prato: 1849.

219

Guest, Clare E. L. “The Growth of the Pygmy Muses.” In The Muses and their Afterlife

in Post-Classical Europe, edited by Kathleen W. Christian et al., 191-210.

London: The Warburg Institute, 2014.

Halperin, David. “Why is Diotima a Woman?” In One Hundred Years of Homosexuality,

edited by David Halperin, 113-152. New York: Routledge, 1990.

Hamilton, Roberta. 1978. The Liberation of Women: A Study of Patriarchy and

Capitalism. London: George Allen & Unwin. See especially chapter 2, “The

Transition from Feudalism to Capitalism,” 23-49.

Hankins, James, and Ada Palmer. The Recovery of Ancient Philosophy in the

Renaissance: A Brief Guide. Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 2008.

Hankins, James, ed. The Cambridge Companion to Renaissance Philosophy. Cambridge:

Cambridge University Press, 2007.

Harrison, Peter. “Philosophy and the Crisis of Religion.” In The Cambridge Companion

to Renaissance Philosophy, edited by James Hankins, 234-249. Cambridge:

University Press, 2007.

Hillman, Cynthia. “’Lo Sposalizio d’Iparchia Filosofa,’ by Suor Clemenza Ninci.” In

Scenes from Italian Convent Life, edited by Elissa B. Weaver, 153-170. Ravenna:

Longo Editore, 2009.

Hobgood-Oster, L. Holy Dogs & Asses. Urbana: University of Chicago Press, 2008.

Jaffe, Irma B., and Gernando Colombardo. Shining Eyes, Cruel Fortune: The Lives and

Loves of Italian Renaissance Women Poets. New York: Fordham University Press,

2002.

220

Jardine, Lisa. "‘O Decus Italiae Virgo’, or The Myth of the Learned Lady in the

Renaissance." The Historical Journal: 799.

Kelly, Joan. “Did Women Have a Renaissance?” In Becoming Visible: Women in

European History, edited by R. Bridenthal and C. Koonz, 137-164. Boston:

Houghton-Mifflin, 1977.

Kelly, Joan. Women, History and Theory. Chicago: University Press, 1984.

Kelso, Ruth. Doctrine for the Lady of the Renaissance (Urbana: University of Illinois

Press, 1956).

King, Margaret L. “Book-Lined Cells: Women and Humanism in the Early Italian

Renaissance.” In Beyond Their Sex: Learned Women of the European Past, edited by

Patricia H. Labalme, 66-90. New York: New York University Press, 1980.

King, Margaret. Venetian Humanism in an Age of Patrician Dominance. Princeton:

Princeton University Press, 1986.

King, Margaret L., and A. Rabil. Her Immaculate Hand: Selected Works By and About

the Women Humanists of Quattrocento Italy. Binghamtom, New York: Center for

Medieval and Early Renaissance Studies, 1983.

Kohl, B.G., R.G. Witt and E.B. Welles, eds. The Earthly Republic: Italian Humanists on

Government and Society. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1978.

Kolsky, Steven. The Ghost of Boccaccio: Writings on Famous Women in Renaissance

Italy. Belgium: Brepols, 2005.

Kraye, Jill. “The Revival of Hellenistic Philosophies.” In The Cambridge Companion to

Renaissance Philosophy, edited by James Hankins, 97-112. Cambridge:

221

University Press, 2007.

Labalme, Patricia H. Beyond Their Sex: Learned Women of the European Past. New

York: New York University Press, 1980.

Lamarre, Mark. "Plato's Method of Dialectic According to Plato." Academia.edu, 2015.

Accessed August 20, 2015.

http://www.academia.edu/1277680/Platos_Dialectical_Method.

Lamb, W. R. M. Plato’s Lysis ; Symposium ; Gorgias. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard

University Press, 1983.

Le Doeuff, Michèle. Hipparchia's Choice: An Essay Concerning Women, Philosophy,

etc. Translated by Trista Selous. New York: Columbia University Press, 2007.

Logan, Oliver. Culture and Society in Venice, 1470-1790: The Renaissance and its

Heritage. New York: Scribner, 1972.

Lunenfeld, M. "Isabella I of Castile and the Company of Women in Power." Historical

Reflections 4, no. 2 (1977): 57-79.

Marsh, David. The Quattrocento Dialogue: Classical Tradition and Humanist

Innovation. Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1980.

Matton, S. “Cynicism and Christianity from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance.” In The

Cynics, edited by R. Bracht Branham and Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé, 240-264.

Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1996.

McClure, George W. Sorrow and Consolation in Italian Humanism. Princeton: Princeton

University Press, 1991.

McManamon, John M., S.J. “An Incipitarium of Funeral Orations and a Smattering of

222

Other Panegyrical Literature from the Italian Renaissance (ca. 1350-1550).” Last

modified February 2014.

http://www.luc.edu/media/lucedu/history/pdfs/Incipit_Catalogue.pdf.

McManus, Barbara F. “Whose Voice Is It Anyway?: Teaching Early Modern Women

Writers.” In Crossing Boundaries: Attending to Early Modern Women, edited by Jane

Donawerth and Adele Seef, 227-240. Newark: University of Delaware Press, 2000.

McNamara, JoAnn and Suzanne F. Wemple. “Sanctity and Power: The Dual Pursuit of

Medieval Women.” In Becoming Visible: Women in European History, edited by R.

Bridenthal and C. Koonz, 90-118. (Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1977).

Medioli, Francesca. “The Dimensions of the Cloister: Enclosure, Constraint and

Protection in Seventeenth-Century Italy.” In Time, Space, and Women's Lives in

Early Modern Europe, edited by A.J. Schutte, S.S. Menchi, and T. Kuehn, 165-180.

Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2001.

Menchi, S.S. “The Girl and the Hourglass: Periodization of Women's Lives in Western

Preindustrial Societies.” In Time, Space, and Women's Lives in Early Modern Europe,

edited by A.J. Schutte, S.S. Menchi, and T. Kuehn, 41-76. Kirksville, MO: Truman

State University Press, 2001.

Navia, Luis E. Classical Cynicism. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1996.

Nussbaum, Martha. Cultivating Humanity: A Classical Defense of Reform in Liberal

Education. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997.

Ordine, Nuccio. 1984. “Simbologia dell'asino. A proposito di due recenti edizioni.”

Giornale storica di letteratura Italiana 141: 116-30.

223

Ordine, Nuccio, and H. Barański, trans. 1987. Giordano Bruno and the Philosophy of the

Ass. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987.

Pade, Marianne. The Reception of Plutarch’s Lives in Fifteenth-Century Italy.

Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, University of Copenhagen, 2007.

Palmer, Ada. Reading Lucretius in the Renaissance. Cambridge: Harvard University

Press, 2014

Pateman, Carole. “Feminist Critiques of the Public/Private Dichotomy.” In Public and

Private Social Life, edited by S.I. Benn and G.F. Gauss, 281-306. New York: St.

Martin’s Press, 1983.

Patrizi, Francesco, J. W. Crayton, and D. Pastina. The Philosophy of Love. Xlibris

Corporation: 2003

Patrizi, Francesco, and John Charles Nelson. L’Amorosa Filosofia. Firenze: Felice le

Monnier, 1963.

Pesenti, G.B. “Lettere inedite del Poliziano.” Athenaeum 3 (1915): 284-304, 299-300.

Petit, Pierre. Cynogamia, sive de Cratetis et Hypparchiae Amoribus. Paris: Andreas

Cramoisy, 1676.

Pomeroy, Sarah B. Pythagorean Women: A Social History. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins

University Press, 2013.

Rabil, Albert. "Humanism in Venice." In Humanism, Venice, and Women: Essays on the

Italian Renaissance, edited by Margaret L. King, 209-234. Aldershot, Hampshire,

Great Britain: Ashgate, 2005.

Rabil, Albert, ed. Laura Cereta, Quattrocento Humanist. Binghamton, N.Y.: Center for

224

Medieval & Early Renaissance Studies, 1981.

Radden, Jennifer, ed. The Nature of Melancholy from Aristotle to Kristeva. Oxford:

Oxford University Press, 2000.

Randolph, A.W.B. “Renaissance Genderscapes.” In Structures and Subjectivities:

Attending to Early Modern Women, edited by J.E. Hartman and A. Seeff, 21-49.

Newark: Delaware University Press, 2007.

Rigolot, François. “The Renaissance Crisis of Exemplarity.” Journal of the History of

Ideas 59 (1998): 557-563.

Riley, Joanne Marie. “The Influence of Women on Secular Vocal Music in Sixteenth

Century Italy: The Life and Career of Tarquinia Molza (1542-1617).” PhD Diss,

Wesleyan University, 1980.

Robin, Diana. “Cassandra Fedele (1465-1558).” In Women Writing Latin, vol. 3, edited

by L.J. Churchill, P.R. Brown and J.E. Jeffrey, 55-63. New York: Routledge, 2002.

Robin, Diana. “Cassandra Fedele’s Epistolae (1488-1521): Biography as Ef-facement.”

In The Rhetorics of Life-Writing in Early Modern Europe: Forms of Biography from

Cassandra Fedele to Louis XIV, edited by Thomas F. Mayer and D.R. Woolf, 187-

203. Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 1995.

Robin, Diana. "Woman, Space and Renaissance Discourse." In Sex and Gender in

Medieval and Renaissance Texts, edited by Barbara K. Gold et al., 165-87. State

University of New York Press: New York, 1997.

Robin, Diana and Cassandra Fedele. Letters and Orations. Chicago: The University

of Chicago Press, 2000.

225

Robin, Diana and Laura Cereta. Collected Letters of a Renaissance Feminist.

Chicago, Ill.: University of Chicago Press, 1997.

Robin, Diana. “Laura Cereta (1469-1499).” In Women Writing Latin, vol. 3, edited by

L.J. Churchill, P.R. Brown and J.E. Jeffrey, 83-108. New York: Routledge, 2002.

Ross, Sarah Gwyneth. The Birth of Feminism. Cambridge: Harvard University

Press, 2009.

Rossi, Ottavio. Elogi Istorici de’ Bresciani illlustri. Brescia: Bartolomeo Fontana, 1620.

Sachs, Hannelore. The Renaissance Woman. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1971.

Segarizzi, A. “Nicollo Barbo patrizio veneziano del sec. XV e le accuse contro Isotta

Nogarola.” Giornale storico della letteratura italiana 43 (1904): 39-54.

Servadio, Gaia. Renaissance Woman. New York: IB Taurus, 2005.

Simons, Patricia. “Women in Frames: The Gaze, the Eye, the Profile in Renaissance

Portraiture." History Workshop: A Journal of Socialist and Feminist Historians

25: 4-30.

Snyder, Jane McIntosh. The Woman and the Lyre Women Writers in Classical Greece

and Rome. Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1989.

Strocchia, Sharon T. "The Melancholic Nun in Late Renaissance Italy." In Diseases of

the Imagination and Imaginary Disease in the Early Modern Period, edited by

Yasmin Annabel Haskell, 139-158. Turnhout: Brepols, 2011.

Stevenson, Jane. Women Latin Poets. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005.

Taylor, Thomas, ed. Iamblichus' Life of Pythagoras, Or, Pythagoric Life: Accompanied

226

by Fragments of the Ethical Writings of Certain Pythagoreans in the Doric Dialect

and a Collection of Pythagoric Sentences from Stobaeus and Others. London: J.M.

Watkins, 1818.

Tenenti, Alberto. "The Sense of Space and Time in the Venetian World." In Renaissance

Venice, edited by J.R. Hale, 17-46. London: Faber and Faber, 1973.

Van der Poel, M. 1997. Cornelius Agrippa: The Humanist Theologian and his

Declamations. Leiden: Brill. 109.

Vandelli, Domenico, ed. Opusculi Inediti di Tarquinia Molza. Bergamo: 1750. di Villanuova, Francesco Alberti. Dizionario Universale Critico Enciclopedico, Volume

6. Milan: Luigi Cairo, 1825.

Walsh, Mary B. “Locke and Feminism on Private and Public Realms of Activities.” The

Review of Politics 57 (1995): 251-278.

Weaver, Elissa B. Convent Theater in Early Modern Italy. Cambridge: Cambridge

University Press, 2002.

Weaver, Elissa B. “Spiritual Fun: A Study of Sixteenth-Century Tuscan Convent

Theater.” In Women in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, edited by Mary Beth

Rose, 173-207. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1986.

Weisner, Merry E. “Women’s Defense of their Public Role.” In Women in the Middle

Ages and the Renaissance: Literary and Historical Perspectives, edited by Mary Beth

Rose, 1-28. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press, 1986.

Wilkins, David. “Woman as Artist and Patron in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance.”

227

In The Roles and Images of Women in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, edited by

Douglas Radcliff-Umstead, 107-131. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh

Publications, 1975.

Woods, Susanne. “But Is It Any Good? The Value of Teaching Early Modern Writers.”

In Structures and Subjectivities: Attending to Early Modern Women, edited by J.E.

Hartman and A. Seeff, 324-340. Newark: Delaware University Press, 2007.

Woodward, W.H. Vittorino da Feltre and Other Humanist Educators. New York: Bureau

of Publications Teachers College, Columbia University, 1897. Second printing, 1970.

Zarri, Gabriella. “The Third Status.” In Time, Space, and Women's Lives in Early Modern

Europe. Edited by A.J. Schutte, S.S. Menchi, and T. Kuehn, 181-199. Kirksville,

MO: Truman State University Press, 2001.

228

APPENDIX A: CLEMENZA NINCI’S LO SPOSALIZIO D’IPARCHIA FILOSOFA

This transcription is based on the only manuscript of the text now extant

(Riccardiana 2974).491 The manuscript is written in an early modern cursive with evidence of more than one hand. Abbreviations and punctuation are infrequent, except for the abbreviation of “per” (p with a line through the descender) and the use of the comma and question mark. There are several orthographical quirks. The Latinate “h” is often retained in words such as “havere,” while the spelling of words with single/double consonants is inconsistent. I have retained the original orthography of the text, correcting spelling only where the meaning is rendered unclear, with altered letters indicated by square brackets. I include only those scenes related to Hipparchia’s storyline (leaving out the second storyline, an unrelated romance); as such, all line numbers restart at the beginning of each scene.

491 C. Hillman transcribes and translates only the first and last scenes of Ninci’s play, while C. Guasti published an introduction to the play along with several other excerpts in his Calendario Pratese del 1850.

229

Act 1, Scene 1 Metrocle e Iparchia 3r-4v

Metrocle: Iparchia, mia diletta, è tempo hor mai che di prender marito ti risolva. La nobiltà del nostro illustre sangue si prende ad onta; e repute affronto che il più bel fior di tutti gl’anni tuoi 5 voglia sfiorir nell paterna casa senza porger a quell virtù efficace per poter poscia corre i dolci frutti. Iparchia: Metrocle, fratel caro, io come sai compito non havevo il primo lustro 10 al’hora che la nostra genitrice (dalla morte tradita togliendogli la vita a mezzo il corso) involonne da noi; per cui restammo miseri e soli; per esser stato 15 tre anni prima ancor l’amato padre dalla suddetta traditrice ucciso. Ond’io come te noto priva di genitori e d’ogni bene; teco a studier mi diedi 20 molte e varie scienzie; o questi studi di tutti e miei desir termine sono. Qui mi fermo e mi poso; e solo i libri apportano al mio sen diletto e gioia, n’involano la noia, 25 e finalmente, son di tal virtude

230

che per mezzo di quei ottengo di me stessa ogni vittoria. Non ambisco d el mondo altri piaceri. Non amo, e poco prezzo esser amata, 30 ritrovando da savi essere scritto amore è di virtù fiero inimico. Metrocle: Giusto e onesto amor virtù s’appella; questo seguir potresti e maritarti, come chiede e domanda 35 la propria nobilitate e le richezze. Iparchia: E come potrò mai gli amati studi l’assar per introdur novelli spassi dentro il mio cor, cui sempre sì tranquillo è vissuto fin hor? Adunque devo 40 la strada aprir ad inimiche squadre d’appetiti noiosi di pensieri tediosi, emuli alla mia quiete, alla mia pace? Non sarà già mai ver, cangia pensiero. 45 Metrocle: Io ti prometto e voglio donarti per consorte, quando che non s’opponga avversa sorte, ad un saggio e prudente, accorto, costumato, onde tu possa 50 con la di lui dottrina avvalorarti. Iparchia: Un sol in questo mondo ricetto è di virtù e sapienza. Metrocle: Intendo che vuoi dir. A te non lice sposarti ad un plebeo. 55

231

Iparchia: Deh, cangiamo discorso e ragioniamo d’altro. Ascolta: saper bramo cosa da te da me più volte cerca in più libri e fin hor non lo trovata: 60 se son le due virtude sapienza e prudenza eguali in dignitade et eccellenza, o ver dell’una è l’altra più sublime. Metrocle: È comune parer di tutto e saggi 65 che la prudenza nel suo seno annidi tutte l’altre virtudi; e quindi avviene poter questa chiamare superiore a tutte. Solo lei degl’uomin l’attion regge e conserva, 70 le cose alte discorre, seco se ne consiglia, prevede il mal future e tal’hor impedisce e spezza e rompe all’iniqua fortuna i rei disegni, 75 onde fu da’ poeti appellata di lei vera padrona. Iparco et altri affermativamente dicon ch’invola le forze alle stelle e scampa l’huom da tutti l’infortune 80 sotto a cui fusse nato e rendelo felice, anzi beato, libero dagli affani anco lo rende, intrepido e costante,

232

adorno di vigor e coraggioso 85 contra il furor degli sinistri eventi. Cicerone la chiama vera scienza, di beni e di mali e della vita human, arte e maestra abbellisce e t’adorna 90 ogni opra virtuosa. E se questa va lungi, e dalla nostra mente invola e fugge quanto a di bello e buon presto finisce. Ma che sto più a dir? Ti basti solo 95 saper che questa dea cotanto insigne è dalla testa del gran Giove uscita. Iparchia: Può crescer questa o vero sminuirsi? Metrocle: Per la memoria cresce e affinisce per la dottrina e diventa perfetta 100 per lunga esperienza delle cose. Hor qui non vo dir altro. Torna in casa, mentr’io da te partendo; vado per visitar un mio amico.

Act 1, Scene 5 Metrocle e Crate 10v-12r

Crate: Non dei maravigliarti, amico caro, e molto men turbarti, se Iparchia gentil’, di te sorella, disprezza e tien per vili e mondani diletti. 5

233

Schiva d’amor li spassi E maritali amplessi poichè ne saggi studi e tanto immersa che li porge fastidio e gran tormento quel ch’ad altri daria somno contento. 10 Metrocle: E pur convien che si risolva hormai prender un per consorte al’ quarto lustro un sol’anno li manca. indugiar più non lice a maritarla e tutto il giorno molestato sono. 15 da più sublimi di questa cittade spero e confido ne tuoi saggi detti ch’abbino haver virtù tanto efficace da renderla soggetta al voler mio. Solo per questo fine ti preghai 20 di pervenir fin qua da casa mia con fretta tanto grande. Crate: Li proporrò ragioni giuste e vere e chercherò d’oprar quanto tu brami. O cento e mille volte ben felice 25 quello sarà a cui la giovin saggia se stessa donerà! Io, come sai, seco ho discorso di varie scienzie; e confesso et affermo femmina ritrovare 30 anzi doctrina in saviezza, in costumi honorati, beltà, grazia, e prudenza; e se chiede e dimanda

234

la nobiltà del sangue 35 ilustrissimo sposo, l’altezza del suo ingegno non merta men che governare un regno. Metrocle: Con le parole tue, carissimo Crate, 40 l’amata mia sorella troppo honori. Crate: Anzi niente ho detto di quanto dir potrei; e mentre più le sue virtù rimiro più stupisco et ammiro. 45 Gran miracol mi sembra che lei tenga nel più bel fior degl’anni tanto soggetto. Il senso alla ragione ch’addormentata appare et i di cui piacere 50 sfugge con savio sdegno, aplicandosi solo a gusti veri. Metrocle: Usa, ti prego, ogn’arte o strattagemma acciò si pieghi a contentare e suoi. fa molto stima lei di tue parole. 55 Crate: In un petto, si forte e corraggioso, in un cor, si prudente, non so qual modo e via possa tenere per poter quel piegare. Ha diletti del mondo 60 poichè già son da lei conosciuti per vani e di pena e tormento seminari.

235

Metrocle: Tre anni son che io per la persuado a voler consentir di maritarsi, 65 e la grazia ottener non ho potuto. La cara sua nutrice anco m’ha detto persudergli questo giorno e notte et immobil si rende più che pietra. Hor s’a te non si piega, 70 e con le tue dottissime ragioni non la superi e vinci, il caso e disperato. Crate: Signore, vorrei col mio proprio sangue poter renderti lieto; ma confesso 75 esser difficil, l’opra che m’imponi. Pur perchè mi comandi, et io bramo servirti, non manchero d’oprarmi quanto possibil sia per soddisfarti. 80 Metrocle: Per amor o per forza voglio, al fin, che si pieghi. Questo negozio terminar intendo. Crate: Priva del genitore d’altri non può stimar ira e furore. 85 Metrocle: Andiamo, andiamo dentro. Crate: Come tu vuoi, si faccia.

236

Act 1, Scene 6 Orlando (Astrologo) 12r-13r

Orlando: Come in un cerchio sol? Sei bene stolto? In cinque, in cinque, dico, e non in uno si rimovon del cielo le parti sue divise; aspetta, vo contargli. 5 Volgi mi il volto, dico. L’Artico, e l’Antarctico son due; l’equinoziale il terzo; non mi voltar il tergo screanzato; il quarto, se non erro, 10 el circolo del Cancro; el quinto, senza dubbio, è quell’ del Capricorno. Basta fin qui. Non posso più parlare. Se fusti ricevuto tra le stelle, 15 Ariete galante, rendi grazie al gran Bacco ch’ottenne tal favor dal sommo Giove. E tu, Toro sfacciato, che per rubar donzelle, 20 hor siedi tra le stelle. Non ti voglia ascoltar madonna Helene ciarla pur con Castore e con Polluce, et a tuoi fatti attendi. Nel Monte Peleneo 25 nell’isola di Chio

237 pervoler di Didiana nacque quello Scorpione, per dar la Morte al pover’Orione, o propositi sciocchi et Ignoranti. 30 Nacque il secondo Bacco di Merone e di Flora, e non di chi dicei Mona saputa. il terzo di Cabiro, cui gia regnò nell’Aria, 35 il quarto, di Saturno e di Semele. Lassami dir che, tu ti rompa il collo! D’Hesiona e di Niso il quinto nacque; non involar da me hormai che ho’visto. Vergin, bella Erigone, 40 tien giusta la bilancia. Se Giustizia che appelli ti riverisco. Vanne a tuoi diporti. Giunone stolta e pazza, per qual fine collocarti nel Cielo 45 l’arrogante leone? Forse Ercole uccidè, come bramavi? Non mi rispondi; a sdegno ti prendi il mio parlare. Ti voglio anco burlar; goffa credesti 50 più virtù ritrovarsi in un leone che in Ercole invitto. E quindi avvenne che rimase estinto il mandato da te per traditore; arrabbia quanto sai dir te lo voglio. 55

238

Act 1, Scene 7 Orlando (Astrologo) e Giunetta 13r-14v

Giunetta: Come far mai potrei, ha saper quel che ciarlano i padroni? È una cosa di molta importanza; hanno chiamato solo la nutrice e si son messi a cicalare insieme, 5 non so per qual cagione; non voglion ch’ io udisca un poco, anch’ io, e loro sparlamenti, e dicon che le donne son cicale; ma la Nutrice è donna come mene! 10 S’ io non sono in errore e si havessi a dire il vero vero mi par che gl’huomin ciarlin tanto e tanto ch’un solo basterebbe per superare tutte quante noi. 15 Orlando: Tanto dissi, ch’al fin dal ciel scendesti bellissima Giunone, mi sapresti dar nuova del Sagittario, figlio di Crotopo, quel saggio giusto e pio; 20 intendi quello dico, ch’ insegnò medicina ad Esculapio. Giunetta: Non so darti risposta; dinne, sei quell’ astrologio tanto addottrinato ch’ alla padrona mia 25

239

insegnarti la bella astrologhia? Orlando: Non sono il Pesce io, Venere spaventata nella guerra de’ Giganti; converse se in pesce e si tuffò nel gran fiume Eufrate. 30 Giunetta: Oh che cose traverse dice mai e gli a beuto troppo; o veramente il cervello e fuggito del suo capo l’havevo un pocolin sentuto dire; ma si chiacchiera tante e tante cose 35 alla giornata, ch’ io non lo credevo. Orlando: Come creder non vuoi, poltro assasino? Attendi dico alle parole mie si dice esser l’ Acquario Ganimede— guardami in faccia mentre parlo— ho, s’ io 40 non havessi riguardo chi tu sei farei contro di te le mia vendette. Giunetta: Io tremo tutta quanta di paura. Lasciami fuggir via! Orlando: Ferma, troia vezzosa! 45 Vo dirti un’ altra cosa. Giunetta: Lasciami andar, ti prego! Orlando: Taci, ch'io vo’ parlare; a te non lice come stolido e bue; ancor che rege la bocca aprir a volta 50 quel Deucalione di Tessaglia cui sol rimase con Pirra sua moglie nel diluvio che fu universale di lui messi pietade i sommi dei

240

il collocorne su tra l’ altre stelle 55 e questo è il vero Acquario; e non è quello cui hor dicevi tu gran re Cecrope hor dimmi in cortesia quant’ anni son ch’edìfasti Atene. Dammi risposta, dico, 60 Se ben da mezzo in giù serpente sei hai volto d’huomo e bocca da parlare. Giunetta: Son quasi morta di spasimatione! Orlando: Erra tua maesta poiché risiede Gemini, e non Libra, 65 ver del Vento Aguilone; l’Ariete ver dell’Affrico, il Toro verso il Circio, la Vergin verso Argeste; e tu prend’hora queste; 70 ho ben io conosciuto che tu sei quella stella Orione che per la sua grandezza occupa mezzo il ciel; ond’io non ventro. Giunetta: Oh poverett’ a me non m’ammazzare! 75 Non son ne sol ne stele; son Giunetta, quella serva d’Iparchia! Orlando: Torna, torna, se puoi la su nel Cielo! Giunetta: Oh vedi, come corre ti si rompa la bocca per la via; 80 Non mi posso rizzar tanto son pesta Potevo, pur potevo non uscir fuor di casa

241

Lasciami hor presto entrar che non tornarsi Hoi me, hoi me tutta mi dolgo! 85

Act 2, Scene 2 Valerio 16r-16v

Valerio: Oh che gran meraviglia, oh che stupore! Ha negato fin’ hor, la mia padrona, prender consorte; e poi ha per suo sposo e letto un barbassone che, s’io fussi donna, 5 mi farebbe uscir voglia di marito il rimirarlo solo! Resto ammirato quando mi sovviene quanti giovani illustri ha discacciato con dir di non volersi maritare; 10 e faccia hor tanta istanza d’haver Crate! Ma non credo che gl’abbia a riuscire; il mio padon e molto mal contento et ho sentito dir che un suo zio è molto irato per haver udito 15 solo che in casa molte volte viene per disputar di diverse scienzie e molti hanno sospetto ch’a lui non ne succeda qualche danno. E veramente certo non vorrei, 20 non havendo quest’huom in cosa alcuna errato mai; è giusto, buono e puro,

242

e se non è invitato, non ardisce entrar nella magion de padron miei difendirlo li dei, di cui è tanto 25 zelante adorator; torto veruno in verità non merta; ben confesso spiacermi per sposo d’Iparchia mia signora, e pur lei vuol così, io non so come, 30 alla di lui presenza (per quanto m’ha referto la nutrice) l’abbia detto; si pronta e risoluta. Voglio tacer mi par; se par non erro, veder il mio signor venir qua fuori 35 anzi fia meglio far di qui partita acciò ch’ei non mi veda.

Act 2, Scene 3 Crate e Metrocle 16v-17v

Crate: T’assicuro, Metrocle, che se creduto havessi che’l desir di voler mi per consorte si trovassi annidato nel saggio petto della bella Iparchia, 5 non havrei consentito far ingresso nella di te magion; ma non ho mai

243

in tanto tempo ch’ambi ho practicato potuto penetrar il suo pensiero per segno alcun; ne anco a te signore 10 suelato haveva questo suo secreto? Metrocle: Se apertamente m’havessi parlato, superfluo saria stato, anzi un’errore, menarti ad’esortarla, e sua natura risolversi in un punto; e mi conviene 15 ceder a voler suoi. Crate: Stupisco, certo, e indubitamente credi mi burli; ben che sembri in vero parlar con senno; non so come possa invaghirsi di me; io, come vedi, 20 sono abietto e vile e dato ho bando a tutte le richezze in modo tale ch’ad una figlia mia li fu data dal publico la dote per maritarsi; parlo di me stesso 25 come se d’altri dovessi trattare essendo una stoltizia; anzia pazzia che l’huom per ordinario cerca sempre occultar le sue viltadi l’altrui palesi e doni a se gran lodi. 30 Metroc. Non aspira a grandezza, non ambisce ricchezza, mia sorella; solo la virtù tua, la tua dottrina l’appaga e la contenta. E volentieri anch’ io consentirei 35 quando piacessi a’ miei.

244

Crate: Credimi, pur ch’ io bramo viver libero e sciolto in mio povero stato, e se non fussi rozza villania 40 usar atti scortesi contro eccesso di nobil cortesia negherei d’accettarla per mia sposa. Da me stesso conosco essergli inferiore; et i suoi meriti 45 chieder altro soggetto. Ma non lice sfuggire e non volere il presentato bene; però risolvo tutto rimettermi al voler de sacri Nomi. 50 E qui ti lasso: addio. Metrocle: Va pur lieto e felice ch’ancor io sormontar voglio in casa.

Act 2, Scene 6 Valerio e Nutrice 22r-23v

Valerio: Qual’ ira non v’accende o sacrosanti Numi? So pur, so pur che voi rimirate dal cielo per punir o premiare 5 l’attion de mortali. Voi, voi dunque vedete

245

l’ingiustitia loggi fatta ad’ un huom’ tanto giusto e tanto pio; quel crate cosi saggio 10 imprigionato sia chi senza gran stupor lo crederria? Nutrice: Ohi me, Valerio caro, qual danno te successo che tanto ti lamenti? 15 Valerio: A me non è successo; alcun strano accidente sono stato presente a un caso strano; ne posso altro parlar che lamentarmi. Nutrice: Hor dinne senza indugio: che vedesti? Valerio: Il filosofo Crato e stato preso da otto sbirri e menato Prigione 20 senza sapersi di cio’la cagione. Nutrice: E non si può saper d’onde derivi una tanta impietade? Valerio: Molti dicon che’l zio de Padron nostri era; più mesi son sdegnato seco. 25 Non so per qual cagion è si sospetta che per ordine suo pigliato sia. Nutrice: Qual’accenti profferse il Poveretto all’hor che li fu fatto tanto oltraggio? Valerio: Non lamenti o querele; 30 solo disse a suoi cari, “Vedete e rimirate Come pien d’amarezza è questo mondo, d’ogni gioia in fecondo;

246

e sono i frutti suoi tormenti e pene; 35 e ben cieco chi crede coglier i frutti saporite e dolci nell’infeconde arene. non abbiate in sui speme che vi più tor, ma non donar il bene. 40 Eccovi qui l’esempio: io, senza errare, hor mi fa incarcerare.” Questo disse con chiaro ciglio e con serena fronte. Poi volto a Manasdier su presto andiamo li disse lor a che far più dimora? 45 Basta resi mi rieno e miei due libri quai meco havevo, e poi chiudetemi nel centro della terra; a me più caro ch’un pomposo albergo Questi fur[o]no e suoi detti. 50 Nutrice: Oh come ben si scorge in casi avversi la gran virtù de coraggiosi petti! O mia povera figlia, son sicura che in udir novella tanto ria e suoi splendenti lumi 55 saran da lei conversi in vastissimi fiumi. Valerio: Vo gir’ al mio Padone et a lui raccontar puntualmente com’è passato il fatto; potria forse, 60 se per ordine fusse del suo zio, per trovar rimedio a tanto grave danno. Nutrice: Vanne felice; o voi celeste Dei,

247

cui scorgete l’Amor pudico e casto ch’annida e si concentra 65 nel petto constantissimo d’Iparchia: deh, concedete in grazie ch’ogni cor ceda al suo giusto volere; ma fia meglio non far più qui dimora. Voglio entrar dentro anch’io 70 per consolar la mia cara signora.

Act 3, Scene 1 Orlando 26r-27r

Orlando: Dimmi per ch’ a quest’hora, cinosura garbata, splendi si bella in ciel; forse a[i]utarmi intendi mentre ch’io sto navigando in questo vasto mare— 5 sarai tu dunque di me scorta e guida? A noi passiamo havanti; ma vedi, io ti comando e fo’precetto ch’arrivar non mi faccia nel Gaditano stretto. 10 Colà, dico, fra quei due alti Monti, Abinna e Calpe, non al mar Balcarico, Gallico, e Ligustico, non al Sicolo e Cretico 15

248 e geo e l‘Inio, non al Mirtoo e Icario! ah traditora infame, è come così; dimandarmi se voglio esser condotto a quell Mar delle Sirti; 20 per hor non vo dir altro; poiché vedo cader sopra di me quel’ monte altissimo sopra cui cade safa sol per il suo Carissimo. Tienlo, tienlo Boote, e voi Pleiadi— 25 soccorrer non volete il vostro Amico cui tante notte a vagheggiar vi stette? Stelle troppo scortesi, e disleali. Lassami navigar senza dimora. Oh come l’onde propizie mi sono; 30 conducetemi voi su da coloro che m’hanno fatto tanto e tanto male. Andiamo allegramente! Ecco, ritorno in Mare. Oh, vedi, dove sono 35 l’immagini d’Acchille e di Patroclo? Dev’esser dunque questo il fiume Xanto. Non posso più soffrir di rimirare nel gran tempio di quell’Ercole invitto, Star in gabbia di ferro la Sibilla. 40 O Giove grazioso, dinne perchè ti mostri si lieto, e si giocoso su nella casa tua in mezzo al cielo;

249

e Vener con Mercurio 45 e capo di Dragone in diametro della chiara Luna. Certo mi piaci a te venir hor voglio.

Act 3, Scene 2 Nutrice e Valerio 27r-28r

Nutrice: Valerio, in cortesia, dinne sel sai: per quanto tempo è fatto prigion Crate? Valerio: Cosa in ver mi dimandi Dificil’ a sapersi; io per me credo Non starà molto; poiché il Padrone 5 Solo per prenderla di lui difesa Andonne al zio; al quale erono state Presentate di Crate Molte brutte querele, E però s’era inviperato seco. 10 Nutrice: Poteva mandarte, e non andare e gli in persona a questo strano tempo. Valerio: Più stima disse lui il zio farà d’una parola mia che non faria di cento e mille d’altri. 15 Però vo gir per liberar più presto il povera innocente, più presto che potro farò ritorno. Nutrice: Conferir hor’ ti vogglio un gran secreto come a servo fedel; devi sapere 20

250

ch’Iparchia, figlia mia, ed ambi anco signora parlare in questa sera al suo caro, e diletto incarcerato. Valerio: M’assale un gran timore; 25 s’io consento tal cosa di non far dispiacere al mio signore cui altro non impose al suo partire che la cura di lei. Nutrice: Chi vuoi ch’a lui lo dica? 30 Valerio: Un sol basta che’l sappia; non sarà poi ma giunto che li daria contezza di questo per l’appunto. Nutrice: S’io conoscessi commetter’ errore 35 ch’oscurassi niente il di lei chiara honore scornerei certo per quanto potessi il suo giusto pensiero. Valerio: È folle chi prevede il suo periglio 40 e per dar gusto ad’altri in quello cade. Nutrice: Ogni ciel di timor dal sen discaccia e disporti d’oprar quanto t’impongo. Solo in te la padrona riporta ha la sua speme 45 e ti da questa borsa di danari acciò con questi ottenga dal principal guardian della prigione la grazie cui da lei tanto è bramata.

251

Valerio: E grand’impresa questa; non vorrei 50 per non discibbidire alla signora incorrer poi nell’ira del padrone. Nutrice: Lassa il pensiero a me; quando si sappia sia tutta mia la colpa mi content. Vanne e cerca sapere 55 dal sublime Ministro l’hora el punto in cui volger deviam ver la le piante. Valerio: Andrò, ma timoroso! Nutrice: Vanne pur corraggioso; e voglio dirti ch’anco per te gran mancia è preparata. 60 Valerio: Ecco, ch’io muovo il passo. Nutrice: Pur di qui fe[ce] partita. lassmi andar per riferir il tutto alla mia cara Iparchia.

Act 3, Scene 7 Valerio 33v-34r

Valerio: Infatti col danaro facil diviene ogni dificil’opra. Quando chiesi al guardian delle pregioni grazie e favor che la signora mia parlar potessi a crate 5 ridir non caperrei con mille lingue com’ei contro di me s’inviperassi storcea la bocca et’arricciana il naso arcava il ciglio e versava per gli occhi

252

sdegno e furore in modo 10 ch’un diavolo sembrava. Ma quando vidde metter mano in borsa e farcenno di dargli buona mancia, oh come allegro divenne nel volto! A parlar cominciò piacevolmente 15 dicendo, “s’ io potessi, vorrei pur consolar la tua padrona.” Finalmente risolvo soddisfarla. Vanne lieto, Valerio, e significa a lei 20 come io cortesemente li concedo quanto a me per te chiede, e sopra il tutto non indugi a venir perchè a quest’hore la gentre si ritira al proprio albergo e non sarà veduta. 25 O vedi come ha virtù di cangiar in un momento il voler de mortal, l’argento e l’oro. Non vo far più dimora; mi vo partir per avvisare il tutto. 30

Act 3, Scene 8 Giunetta 34r-34v

Giunetta: Non so ch’abbia in capriccio la Signora; la se vestita in modo d’andar fuora, e ver dell’altra porta della casa

253 ha mosso il pie per andar non so dove! La Nutrice li dice, 5 “Ferma, ti prego, il passo, Et aspetta Valerio che ritorni,” e lei vuol gire havanti. Ho visto hora che gl’è entrato dentro— forse gl’havrà apportar qualche Novella. 10 Se ci fossi il padrone, farebbon certo meno chiacchierate; non direi nulla s’io sapessi anch’ io qual trama abbino ordita tra di loro. Par propio che tu sia lecca lucerne 15 la signora vuol’esser la rovina di qualc’un’ altro mi parrebbe pure s’ havessi a contentar, essendo stata vera cagion della prigion di crate. Se bene a dir il vero 20 è per star meglio della sconscienza. Le sono state le cattive lingue ch’hanno detto al suo zio il falso e la bugia, ma il padron vuol aggiustar il tutto, 25 et al ritorno suo si crede ch’uscirà sicuramente; e gl’è tanto il buon huomo che me ne crepa il core et ho contento grande 30 che la signora stia ferma e costante in volerlo per sposo.

254

Io prima non volevo, et hor lo caro per la sua gran bontade si trova hora nel mondo 35 certi giovani tristi e cattivelli, che meglio maritarsi ad un di tempo. Vo dentro ritornar e por[re] ben mente; ha tutto quel che fanno.

Act 4, Scene 1 Hipparchia, Nutrice, Valerio, Crate 37r-39r

Iparchia: Li dei tra le miserie, prudentissimo Crate, rendino il tuo cor lieto. Crate: Che novità de è questa, o savissima Iparchia, 5 involar a questo hora dalla magion paterna? Qual’arte o strattagemma usasti per venir in questo luogo? Iparchia: Ho pagato il guardian delle prigione 10 et’ei cortese e pio a consentito al retto voler mio; e son sicura ch’ei non parlerebbe di quel cui tornerebbe a proprio danno suo; però non devi 15 haver timor’alcun’ che si risappia. Nuova allegrezza sento dentro al petto

255

in rimirarti con sereno volto io mi credea vederti sconsolato et’afflitto in tanti affanni; 20 et in quelli gioisci. Crate: In questa mortal vita a me tanto è gradita la dura prigionia quanto la libertade, e signoria. 25 se poco dura l’una, manco l’ altra. Iparchia: Sai purchè ingiustamente qui carcerato stai? Adunque, o dio, non hai con chi ti fe prigione? 30 Crate: Con chi sdegno haver deggio mentre questo è volere degl’altissimi Dei? E per esseguir quello? Questo piccol tugurio me più grato 35 d’un palazzo real d'un regio stato. Iparchia: Saper non puoi se da malizia umana è partorito quest’ oltraggio ch’hai a torto ricevuto; o veramente presentati ti son questi disgusti 40 dalla divina mano. Crate: Mi muovi a riso, mia gentil signora, chiamando tu disgusti e dispiaceri e miei sommi piaceri; e dubitare l’huomo non dee mai, quando gli occorre 45 alcun sinistro evento

256

ch’ ordinato non sia dalla somma e celeste providenza, cui provede a ciascuno i veri modi per salvar l’ alma e gir con lunghi passi 50 al sommo Giove, nell’ empireo santo. Ho rinunziato le ricchezze tutte per arrivare a quel; acciò non sieno quelle d’ impedimento al mio viaggio. Iparchia: Dichiara, in cortesia; il viver ricco 55 in questa bassa terra impedisce l’entrar su nel bel cielo? Crate: Può ciascun possederle senza gustar d’haverle. Ma chi fia sì coraggioso e forte 60 che in esse vivendo Non cerchi conservarle, non brami aumentarle e quindi avviene che l’huom si scorda della patria sua. È nulla cura o prezza 65 la verace ricchezza. Ond’io solo anhelando a quell’immenso ben che fin non have. Grate mi son le pene et i martiri; vadin pur da me lungi 70 fasti mondani; e pompe cui con lusinghe en panni cercono d’imprunar il dritto calle preso dall’huom tal hor per arrivare al celeste cammino. 75

257

Iparchia: O quanto dici il ver! O come cari mi son gl’accenti tuoi, per quei conosco apertamente e chiaro che la virtù dell animo è bastante per se stessa a far l’huom costante e forte, 80 e tutti li spaventi e fier tormenti reston preda d’un cor nobile e invitto. Nutrice: Figlia, ho timor che’l padrone ritorni alla paterna casa et involata ti trovi da quella! 85 Crate: È stolida pazzia voler viver felice in questo mondo, non come vi’andante e pellegrino, ma come fusse eterna questa luce cui ne presenta a noi Febo gentile. 90 Venghin sopra di me mille travagli; piovin sopra di me affanni e pene chè la speranza dell’ eterna gioia cangerà in dolcezza ogni amarezza e noia. 95 Nutrice: È tanto intenta che non m’ha udito! Iparchia: Son più che mai costante ho humo benigno e saggio in volerti per sposo; e non si vanti alcun di persuadermi ch’ad altri 100 volga il pensier; te solo elessi e voglio. Crate: Ad’un vil e sgrattiato poverello e meschin’ come sono io sposarti a cui risolvi; e ti fia grato?

258

Figlia, ti pentirai 105 all’hor che rimediar più non potrai. Iparchia: Havevo risoluto in me di non voler prender marito; hor s’io devo pigliarlo per contentar i miei; 110 lo voglio a gusto mio. Nutrice: Signora, l’hora e tarda! Iparchia: Adesso, adesso andremo! Crate: Sta in tua libertade non oscrei pregarti 115 ne men voglio scacciarti cosi com’è follia ambir quel ben cui ottener non puoi. Anco chiamar si puote un estrema pazia 120 non accettare un prezioso dono derivato da nobil cortesia. Non far più qui dimora, giovinetta vezzosa, vanne, vanne gioiosa! 125 Tempo forse verrà, piacendo a Giove che parlar ci potremo senza ver’un timore. Iparchia: Per obbedirti fo’di qui partita, e spero quanto prima 130 libero rimirarti e sprigionato. moviamo il pie’ veloce fidi miei. Crate: Andate tutti lieti.

259

Act 4, Scene 5 Giovannino e Giunetta 43r-44r

Giunetta: Io mi son morta della spassione in questo tempo che sei stato fuora, Giovannino mio bello! Giovannino: Ho creduto ben’io per correr tanto forte 5 lassar le gambe in pezzi per la strada, e ritornar senz’ esse. Giunetta: Un poverino! La tu rotte punto? Mostra, le vo tastar: questi padroni prendon quei cavalloni 10 quando vanno lontano e fan correre i servi come cani. Non mi par a sentir con le mie mani ch’ abbia rotto alcun osso, o vero torto. Sei ben tutto sudato, poveretto. potevi andar sul letto a riposarti. 15 Giovannino: Convien pensare ad altro: in breve tempo deve sposarsi la nostra signora col filosofo Crate; et il padrone a dato ordine, pria di scavalcare, che sprigionato sia 20 e fatto pubblicare come prigione è stato ingiustamente. Giunetta: O datti maraviglia che il padrone cicali tanto su con la signora e con la strega della sua nutrice! 25

260

Io son come di più in questa casa; non so perchè non debba saper le cose anch’ io, e mi tocca a scoppiar della fatica; e poi son ributtata per cicala. 30 Ah s’ io volessi dire non mi manca; potrei far balzar via quella messera cui sempre è consapevole del tutto. Te lo vo dir: ma ve,’non voglio mai Che tu lo dica a nimo: 35 la nutrice e Valerio hanno menato fuori la padrona in su la mezza notte, era tre ore; non ho gia mai potuto saper dove. Guarda se potrei far scandoli belli 40 a quella soppottiera492 e boccastretta. Giovannino: Giove mi guardi ch’ io lo dica mai guardati tu di non lo dir ad altri anzi tronchiam questo ragionamento ch’ ancora a noi potria far grave danno; 45 e parliamo di nozze, ch'ora è tempo. Giunetta: Pensa quanti saranno a manucare! Se tutto e lor parenti inviteranno. Giovannino: Ha dato ordine il zio che non s’ inviti alcuno 50 della prosapia sua, mentre vuole maritarsi ad un huom vile e plebeo,

492 Soppottiera: A rare word for which I have found only one reference: “Si dice di donna petulante, saccente, salamistra, e che pretende metter la bocca in tutte le cose.” Dizionario Universale Critico Enciclopedico, Volume 6, edited by Francesco Alberti Di Villanuova (Milan: Luigi Cairo, 1825), 338. 261

e ributtar della città nazia e più sublimi già di lei amanti. Giunetta: Dice l’ avverbio: è bello quel che piace, 55 e brutto che non piace; tu m’ intendi! Lei si contenta, e basta. Andiamo per veder che sa da fare. Giovannino: Io voglio prima un pocolin mangiare. Giunetta: Farai quanto vorrai: entriamo dentro. 60

Act 4, Scene 6 Iparchia e Nutrice 44r-44v

Iparchia: Qual grazie, mia Nutrice, 1 render devo a gli dei di favor si preclaro, e si sublime; cortesissimi numi, voi, voi che co bei lumi 5 la pura mente mia già rimirasti; indi a pietà (pietosi) vi movesti e gl’indurati cori molli e dolci renderti. Vi benedico dunque adoro e colo! 10 Nutrice: Mi duol ch’alle tue Nozze non s’abbia a ritrovar alcun de tuoi! Iparchia: Se vi sarà presente quell’oracol divino (che dir così lo voglio) 15 nido d’ogni virtù d’ogni scienza, 262

che bramar più poss’io di quell solo? M’appago, e son contenta e soddisfatta a pieno. O Crate, mio diletto 20 chi mai creduto havvia all’hor che piccolina occultamente e sola dalla paterna casa m’involavo per udir la dite saggia dottrino, 25 dovessi poi, per mia buona fortuna, divenirti consorte? Nutrice: Penso pur ch’a quest’hora li sia stata donata libertade. Iparchia: Metrocle ha mosso frettoloso il passo 30 per gir dall’altra porta; ha visitarlo et introdurlo in casa. Nutrice: Ha lui non spiace questo parentado, ma in tutte l’occorenze seconda il tuo volere 35 volendo il tuo piacere. Iparchia: Come saggio e prudente; più pregia la virtù nella sua mente d’ogni altera grandezza e nobilitade. Entrian per hora dentro. 40 Perder non si può tempo. Nutrice: Eccomi al voler tuo.

263

Act 4, Scene 7 Giovannino e Orlando 45r-46v

Giovannino: Sta pur lieto e contento, corpo mio, che se bene saranno poche genti si prepara gran nozze; un cantuccino non voglio che rimanga di te voto. Orlando: Ben venuto, Volturno, o ver Sirocco; 5 tu soffì troppo forte; sta lontan! Non mi negar: tu vien dall’ oriente. Non haver tanto ardir e tanta forza— mi fai doler la testa. Sapresti dar novella 10 di Zeffiro e Favonio cui sta nell’occidente? Giovannino: Conosco pur che sei quell’astrologo detto ch’insegnasti l’astrologia alla Signora mia. 15 Hor non intend punto e parlar tuoi e ciò che dir mi vuoi. Orlando: Furno493 quattro e Mercurii. Fu del cielo e del giorno il primo figlio; il secondo di Giove e di Proserpina. 20 Figlio di Crono è il terzo, e della Maia, quel dico ch’inventor fu della lira. Il Canchero—ti mangi, screanzuto! Com’hai ardir di romper mio discorso con tue cicalerie? Ascolta e taci! 25

493 furno = furono 264

Di Quilleno fu figlio il quarto; e questo insegnò l’arimetica a gl’Egitti— com’osi di dormer in mia presenza? Tu non conosci ch’io sono il Re nino, el Capitan Zantippo? 30 O vero, se non erro, il Rege Belo; son figlio di Giove. Giovannino: Qual’accidente strano t’ha reso stolto e matto? Orlando: Bufolo buasson; non dici il vero 35 fu la quinta Minerva, di Titanie figlia, e di Pallante; del sol la quarta, inventrice de carri, la prima di Vulcano; del Nilo la seconda; 40 e di me fu la terza, cui sono il sommo Giove inginocchiati presto al mio gran Trono. Giovannino: Lassami andar, ti prego! Non posso perder tempo. 45 Orlando: Il primo Marte nacque d’Enogeste; di Leocarpi l’altro; brami tu saper più? Rispondi, dico! Giovannino: Io vorrei pur uscirti delle mani! Orlando: Ser messer, no! Non aspettar buon tempo; 50 tramonta il Sole adorno di nuvolette oscure— non le vedi? Hor guarda, che rinasce con nuvolette rosse; 55

265

alza le luci, dico! Giovannino: Oh che fortuna è stata questa mia! Orlando: Superbo, e come osasti rubar il vestimento et anco il corsaletto 60 di quel famoso Ulisse del tempio dedicato al grand’ Apollo in Sicion d’ Acaia? dammelo dico, lo vo riportare. Giovannino: Non mi spogliar, per grazia, 65 in tal paese non son stato mai! Orlando: Rubar il tempio poltroncione, iniquo, voglio anco il corsaletto; ti credevi poter questo tesoro goder senza sapersi? 70 Io sol lo conosciuto. Dammi quel corsaletto a chi dich'io! Giovannino: Altro non posso darti ch’ una calza, povero disgraziato. O non fussi io, già mai qui capitato! 75 Orlando: Hora lo voglio: impara a non rubar le case degli Dei. Giovannino: Almeno, dammi tempo che io possa cavarlo. Orlando: Non tentecchiar494 mill’hore; 80 riguarda chi t’ aspetta. Cavami hor di berretta—

494 Guasti suggests tentennare, “to hesitate,” as a better reading for tentechiarre, a word unknown to me (Guasti, Calendario, 93, n.1).

266

Rizzati in piedi, dico! Hor dammi il corsaletto. Giovannino: Eccolo hor sei contento? 85 Cerca pur nelle tasche quanto vuoi e prendi che tu trovi; pur che mi lasci in vita. Orlando: Ah furfante, furfante! Ecco il vaso di marmo, 90 cui Laide Meretrice posò nel tempio di Venere dea fabbricato in Corinto. Lo vo’ restituire al luogo suo. Giovannino: Oh che stoltizia estrema! 95 Un pochetto di pan li sembra un vaso. Orlando: Oh che vedo; che miro? Et è pur vero, esser tu d’Icar quella statua bella , cui romfa495 sempre come se dormisse. in Effeso era questa; 100 Non so per qual cagion sia qui venuta. Forse sarà per rovinarmi addosso; non ti riuscirà per questa volta. Giovannino: Vanne in mal hora, ma tutto spogliato e pesto e fracassato. 105 Io dubitavo non mi strangolassi! Però non gl’ho mai dato del cattivo. Misero Giovannino, Hor si ch’hai gran bisongio di ristoro. Mi par sempre vederlo; 110

495Perhaps a variation of ronfare, “to snore.” 267

entrar vo dentro senza più dimora.

Act 4, Scene 8 Metrocle e Crate 47r-48r

Metrocle: Andai dal caro zio, Crate diletto, sol per difender l’innocentia tua. Crate: Di qual error m’ avevano imputato appresso e tuoi Metrocle? Metrocle: Perdonami, non voglio 5 signiﬁcarti il falso dalle perﬁde lingue a te apposto. Questo ti basti, ch’ io ho dimostrato apertamente e chiaro il mal detto di te sol derivare 10 da sdegno partorito da invidia. Crate: Sono alcuni nel mondo cotanto dominati da questa enorme peste che quandi li rimiro afflitti e mesti, 15 non so se pensar devo s’a quelli sia successo grave danno, o vero ad altri bene! O miseria infelice, o rabbia cui sempre laceri il cor dentro del petto 20 de tuoi stolti seguaci! Metrocle: Io ritrova che sempre

268

nel sen dell’imprudente questo mostro infernal s’ annida e posa. Crate: Huom saggio non consente 25 albergar dentro se l’orribil bestia benchè tal’hor lo tenti et ogni forza usi per far dentro di lui ingresso; ma ei, costante e forte, la scaccia e li fa guerra 30 l’abbatte e manda a terra. Un huom poi righettoso, povero di virtù, d’animo vile più stolido che savvio, non sol la fugge e sprezza, 35 che l’invita, l’abbraccia et accarezza. O cecita sublime! Può forse un, con astiar496 l’altrui virtude, involarlo da quello? Solo il voler divin ne può privare; 40 di me altro non hanno che invidiare. Ricchezze non posseggo, e dignità non godo. Metrocle: Più splendente e più illustre t’ha reso al mondo, quell’infame lingua 45 cui disse mal di te; che grave danno abbia fatto alla tua reputazione! Crate: È questa la mercè degl’invidiosi: cercon di far’oltraggio in mille modi, con cento astuzie et arti a questo e quello 50

496 Perhaps related to astio, noun, “envy;” cf. also aschiare, “to envy.” 269

spinti e spronati solo dalla loro invidiosa passione; e quanto più ambiscono abbassargli, il ciel ver di quei largo, per far’onta alli Rei cerca in alzargli. 55 Ecco chiaro et aperto che ti dico— sono stato avvilito, vilipeso e schernito; et hora i sommi dei mi hanno eletto per sposo ver d’una illustre donzella 60 le cui altere lodi s’odon per tutto il mondo, sorvolano alle stelle; e non si trova giovine al par di lei si saggie e belle. Posso haver maggior dono 65 dalla divina mano? Metrocle: Cosi lei si contenta e cosi vuole; non haveva compito il primo lustro che potendo involar dal patrio nido per udirti veniva ovunque andavi, 70 et uno antico e ben fondato affetto non può suanir e dare ad’un novel’ ricetto. Ma fia meglio entra dentro. Mi sovviene haver mandato per i sacerdoti 75 per dar l’ultimo fine al parentado— saranno forse giunti; non tardiamo. Crate: Eccomi a tuoi comandi, a tuoi piacere.

270

Act 5, Scene 4 Orlando (Astrologo) 52r-53r

Orlando: Con quest’abito adorno, con la corona in testa, con l’aurato scetro nella destra, oggi mi fo’vedere al mondo tutto solo per avvisar gl’ignorante 5 com’io son Semiramide, quel rege cui già diede principio alle superbe et alte Babiloniche mura; et il mio figlio poi li dette fine. 10 Devon hor dunque tutti adorarmi per dio; e chi fia mai si pazzo, che rimirando me cotanto adorne di ricche gioie i di reali ammanti 15 non dica veramente, a lui solo si deve incenso e voti; o che gran cosa annegherà del certo. Ritienla un poco, tu, Madonna Luna; certo di te m’incresce, 20 bellissima donzella. Io ti conosco; sei Cilicia497 vaga, quella cui per ostaggio data furti a Porsena,

497 Though called Cilicia here, this woman’s story idenitifies her as Cloelia (see Livy, Ab urbe condita, 2.13). 271

Et hora ad’onta tua 25 nel Tevere ti getti; vorrei porgerti aiuto. Stolta mi! dai, rifiuto; va’pur, vanne in malanno; non sono il Re Tarquinio, 30 ch’uccider si lascio per Man di Bruto. Come dici tu questo, o maccherone? Cen sessanta e sei volte è maggior della Terra il vago sole; io lo so tanto bene 35 che Venere fu figlia. La prima dico, intendi, d’Haddeli e del giorno; della spuma dell’aera la seconda, e di lei Genitor fu l’Oceano. 40 La terza, cui sposo ebbe Vulcano, fu figlia di Cupido. La quarta di Adone innamorata unica figlia fu di Cipro e Siria. Eccone, detto senza fallir punto 45 l’alta prosapia mia; fatemi riverenzia Villanacci all’abito all’andar’ et a’ costume. Non vi sembro quel ciel’ove annidate stanno queste messere? 50 Lassami presto andar in Macedonia; indi salir sopra del Monte Olimpo et uccider le stelle, quante sono,

272

con questa spada mia.

Act 5, Scene 7 Giovannino e Giunetta 55r-56r

Giovannino: All’hor che si credea viver lieti e contenti, in mezzo delle nozze l’imperator Roman turbato al tutto. Guinetta: Ho ben udito mentr’ero in cucina 5 uno scompiglio e bisbiglio grande ma non sapevo che fusse successo! Giovannino: Da quella porta che si fa’ingresso nell’ameno giardin; e giunto un messo del grande imperator a Crate sposo 10 per cui lo prega, anzi comanda e vuole ch’udita l’imbasciata senza indugio; ha Roma vadia, volendo che egli disputi con alcuni dotti e saggi per convincer un certo lor parere 15 ch’a lui molto dispiace. Giunetta: Ho pensa la signora, che dicella? Giovannino: Vuol seguir il marito ovunque il pie rivolge; ambi si son levati dalla mensa 20 per prender altre vesti da Campagna. La signora padrona, se non erro, vuol ammantarsi d’abito virile.

273

Giunetta: Chi deve andar con lei? Giovannino: La nutrice e Valerio 25 e noi con il Padrone deviam restare. Giunetta: Sarem dunque felici e fortunate; io certo dubitavo. non ti portassin via— ci daremo bel tempo ancora noi! 30 Giovannino: Ci resta tante core da mangiare; polli, starne, capponi, ortolani, piccioni, confetti marzapani, e cento e mille sorte d’altre cose; 35 lassa pur empier bene a me le mane. Giunetta: Sarà meglio entrar dentro per vedere d’onde fanno partita. Giovannino: Andiamo; se ben credo partiranno di qui per questa porta. 40

Act 5, Scene 9 Iparchia, Crate, Valerio e Messo dell’Imperatore 57r-58v

Iparchia: In van preghi ch’io resti, dilettissimo sposo. Seguir sempre te voglio in ogni loco; solo per questo fin, come tu vedi, tronche mi son chiome, e anco ho preso 5 spoglie viril piuttosto che donnesche con quai potrò con lesto e lungo passo

274

calcar il suol da te premuto pria. Crate: Duolmi ch’abbi a soffrir quei fier disastri ch’apportar seco suol lungo viaggio. 10 Iparchia: Quando a noi ne succeda sinistro e reo cammino, teco mi sarà dolce ogni penare. Spero ben che felice haver l’abbiam vedendo 15 concederci li dei un temperato clima, un ciel vago e sereno cui gioia ne promette per la strada e lieto arrive alla città Romana. 20 Crate: In ver benigno e pio hor ci si rende l’aereo elemento. Iparchia: Dimmi pri di partir, amato Crate, qual tra li quattro tiene il più sublime grado? 25 Crate: L’aria senz’alcun dubbio il primo tiene. Iparchia: Per qual ragion, se lice, un tale tanto honor li si perviene? Crate: Son tante l’eccellenze e le grandezze di questo nobilissimo elemento, 30 che per molto che io di lui dir ti sapessi, niente poi saria a quanto merta quella sua rarità, e d’esser lieve cui d’una attività sono argomento 35 com’è participante del celeste.

275

Quindi avvien ch’è degnato del gran nome di cielo e di divo e di giove, la cui faccia n’appare 40 così bella e lucente che tutte le bellezze belle sono per la sua risplendente trasparenza. Amicissimo è questo de’viventi, anzi è detto spiracol della vita. 45 Iparchia: Tal hor anco mi sembra degl’huomini inimico rendendosi alle volte estuante e noioso hor focoso, hor gelato, 50 caliginoso e grave. Crate: Mercè degli furiosi inquinamenti, de gl’altri perfidissimi elementi, essendo certo chiaro ch’ei vorria perpetuar la mostra mortal vita, 55 se da contrari e nimici accidenti non fussi intorbidito il suo pensiero. Messo: Signori, l’ora è tarda; non vorrei comettessimo error per tardar troppo. È importante il caso 60 cui disputer si deve; e‘l mio signore con gran desir t’attende. Crate: Muoviam presto il passo. Iparchia: Valerio, ove è rimasto il fratel mio? Valerio: In camera si posa, e non ti segue 65

276

per non poter soffrir di rimirare lungi andar tu dalla paterna casa. Crate: Iparchia, se volessi qui restare, in breve tornerò. Deh, non volere sconsolato lassar Metrocle caro. 70 Iparchia: Teco voglio venir a disputare il tempo tutto della vita mia. E, s’a Metrocle spiace mia partita, s’acquieterà. Poco m’importa; Andiamo! Crate: Dove sono e destrieri accomodati? 75 Valerio: Là vicino al cancello del giardino. Crate: Ci donino li dei lietissimo viaggio!

277